#꒰ lovers. ꒱ — iwaizumi

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ mornings don't feel the same without you | iwaizumi hajime

wc: 3.0k

summary: ​​hajime thinks that it's been a long time coming for him to wake up with this realization.

contains: implied f!reader, lingerie, use of slut (teasingly/jokingly, not to reader), lots of suggestive stuff (touching, implied sex), so much love!!, hajime is also a wee bit sentimental here, established relationship

a/n: not a lot of plot, just a lot of love! haven’t written hajime in a while, but he’s on my mind all the time. these are the songs that inspired me: lights down low, never had you, it’s you, and forever right now. 

part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas) + the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Hajime thinks he’s built a pretty solid life for himself—good health, good job, good relationships; all on equal footing, in no particular order. The routine he’s built is deliberate and filled with purpose, a system diligently followed to keep himself running. 

He firmly believes that if you want to live the life you want, you have to start with yourself. A simple choice, the first step. 

And Hajime’s chosen the mornings, an old conscious effort to wake up at 6:00 on the dot now transformed into a natural rise to the softness of daylight. 

You call him a creature of habit, one that leaves no day to rest, even on Valentine’s Day. 

Sunlight trickles between his curtains, ripples of translucent white highlighting the tip of your nose. He sees you through a sleep haze, olive eyes blinking awake like the leaves on your bedside, ready to tickle your cheek and wave when you turn the other way. 

It suits you, he thinks, to be touched by light when you don’t know it. 

You’re warm under the palm of his hand, bare flesh a soft place to rest between him and your hip bone. If he focuses hard enough, he can feel the faint thump of your heartbeat, almost in tandem with the small puffs of air hitting his chin. 

He sighs, the corners of his mouth curling in contentment. 

A good life. 

Evidence of last night is strewn across the room—the red tulips on your bedside and his slacks hanging off the bed. The shirt he’d worn lies atop the dress he slipped off you, half of your black two-piece set caught in it.

The memory replays vividly—bites to his neck down to his collarbone, a pull of his hair and his lower lip caught between yours. You handle Hajime roughly because you know he can take it, know that it gets him going the more you want him. 

But with you, he takes his time—runs his fingers over every area he’s grown fond of (which is everywhere, really). He strips you down slowly, unwrapping you like a gift labeled: handle with care, open gently. 

Then, he savors it—you.

The wrapper lies next to his head, half-tucked underneath his pillow, a piece of elegant black lace you know drives him crazy. 

A perk of celebrating Valentine’s Day two ways is that one half belongs to him and the other to you—a team effort to make the day as special as it can be. 

He shifts, hand sliding up to rest on your waist. The movement causes you to stir, digging your cheek deeper into your pillow as you scrunch your brows—a sign of you coming to wake. 

Hajime immediately shuts his eyes, feigning sleep. Last night was all his—flowers, a nice dinner, and the dessert that came after it. This morning is yours, with only one instruction for him: sleep in. 

How upset would you be if he ruined your surprise? 

The bed dips on your side, no doubt you reaching for the bedside to check the time. Even with his eyes shut, he has your mornings memorized. A whispered ‘shit’ almost makes him break into a smile, but he reigns it in, expression neutral and breathing steady. 

You move again, his hand still on your waist as you turn once more, to what he can only assume is to face him. There’s a momentary pause that makes him worry you’ve found him out, but he feels your fingertips run over the crease between his brows, smoothening it out the way you always do. 

(He has a terrible habit of frowning in his sleep, he’s learned.)

It makes him nervous the longer you linger, the tips of your fingers sliding down the bridge of his nose to rest on his lips, running over it once, twice. Then you sigh, inching closer before gently nudging his nose with yours.

The small peck you land on his lips almost makes him break, but he holds it in, letting you sneak away (albeit badly) for whatever it is you’re planning for today. 

(The bed dips too deeply, comforter rustling as you untangle yourself from it. You stub your toe on the edge of your bedside table and attempt to muffle an ‘ouch’, even though he can hear you—pretty clearly actually. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from chuckling.)

If it were up to him, Hajime would just keep you here, no sneaking around or stubbed toes, no surprise or anything—just you, wrapped in his arms, under his sheets. 

.

Just as he’d promised though, he did sleep in (if an extra 20 minutes of forcing his eyes shut counts as that). 

The flowers on your bedside are gone, and so is his shirt—the sheets beside him crinkled in the shape of your haste to get up from it. He yawns, running a hand through his hair to fix up the mess you made of it last night. 

As part of his routine, Hajime stretches, first with his neck—side-to-side, up-and-down—then with his back, twisting left and right. Next, he changes, puts on a pair of gray sweatpants that you claim must be a staple in his wardrobe (you say he looks like he could fuck you up, its hem hanging dangerously low to reveal the grooves of that deep v-line leading to his pelvis).

After pushing aside the curtains for sunlight to stream through, he cleans the room, picking up the mess of clothes on the floor and making the bed; you usually do this, because you’re particular with the pillow placements, but he’ll take over for now. 

This should buy you enough time, right? An extra 10 minutes for your planned surprise.

He takes a breath, doing one last scan of the room before stepping out. 

As soon as he gets into the hallway, he smells chocolate. 

Each step he takes is consciously softened as he carries his weight, carefully making his way to the sight of you, back towards him in nothing but his t-shirt hanging temptingly high to barely conceal black lace. You seem focused, entirely preoccupied with the kitchen stove.

A familiar feeling settles into his stomach, warm and soothing, one he’s been having more and more around you lately. The corner of his lips curl up. 

For Hajime, the best way to start the day is with the morning light and you.

He sneaks up behind your back, peeking over your shoulder at the chocolate pancakes you seem to be slowly ladling into the pan. And just when you’ve formed a figure he can only assume is a heart, he takes a step closer, hands resting on your hips as he scrunches up the fabric between his fingers.

“Morning,” he whispers, chin resting on your shoulder as his lips brush the side of your neck, soft and ticklish; you shiver, just a little bit. 

The greeting comes out rough, husky, and you lean into him, your hand coming to rest over his, hiking up your (his) shirt to reveal a slight peek at the black lace hugging the curves of your buttcheek. 

“Morning.” you chuckle when you hear his breath hitch. The pancake in front of you gets flipped to the other side. 

“How’s your head?” he moves to peck your temple. Hajime knows you get the worst hangovers no matter how little you have to drink, and last night was by no means little.

You groan, turning off the stove, letting the residual heat cook the pancake through. 

“Terr–” 

As you turn to him within his arms, you pause, blinking uncontrollably at the presence of Hajime’s bare skin in front of you. Your eyes go wide, zeroing in on the full chest beneath your palms, the cuts of his shoulders, and his arms. Oh—

“Slut.” your brows furrow, lips pouting as you stifle a smile. 

Hajime laughs, olive eyes crinkling as he holds you closer, hands coming to clasp at your lower back. 

“Put on a shirt, you know I can’t focus like this.” 

He knows, because you say this almost every morning, every time. 

“I would,” remnants of his amusement linger on his lips, hand reaching to squeeze your butt as he narrows his gaze mischievously, “but someone stole it.” 

You giggle, arms coming up to wind around his neck, fingers playing with the shorter strands of his hair. Then, you tiptoe, white fuzzy slippers slotting itself between his matching green ones as you tilt your head up for a kiss. 

As it is, Hajime’s liking how this surprise is going. 

He leans in, eyes falling shut as he presses against you. His hand cradles your jaw, callused skin tickling you ever so slightly as he guides your head to turn the other way. Hajime can hardly stop whenever you get him started like this, your lower lip already caught between his teeth. 

But you nip it, right as his other hand crawls underneath your shirt, pulling away as he tries to chase for more. The frown on his face is hard to miss. 

“Gonna get dressed,” you smile amusedly, feigning innocence.

“Isn’t this already too dressed?” he raises an eyebrow, tugging at your (his) shirt. His fingers trail lower, hooking themselves into the lace of your underwear. 

“Don’t be a flirt,” you scrunch your nose, “I feel gross.” 

He squeezes your hip, “I’m gross too.” 

You give him a look. 

He gives you one back. 

If Hajime had the words, he’d tell you you’re the furthest thing from gross, making him breakfast in his clothes and that pretty black number you know drives him up-the-wall crazy.

This is the stuff of his dreams. 

But then you give him those eyes, and you know just as well he’s weak to that too. So he sighs, loosening his grip so you can slip away. 

“I’ll make you eggs!” he calls out as you disappear into the bedroom. 

Your breakfast spread for him is set up on the counter, the chocolate heart pancake on the pan the last needed addition to complete everything. It’s sweet, how you prepared a full-on chocolate feast for him: hot chocolate with chocolate heart pancakes, and butter also in the shape of a heart. The tulips he’d gotten you rest prettily inside the vase he remembers from your first anniversary pottery date.

He feels especially sentimental today taking everything in, noticing how the mug that holds your half-finished coffee matches the one that holds his hot chocolate. 

In the little over two years that you’ve been together, you’ve assimilated yourself into his space so naturally that it feels like you’ve always just been here—that it feels right how all your chips fill up the entire bottom shelf of his pantry because you love snacking on them whenever, wherever.

He cracks in two eggs. 

The throw on his couch matches the pillows all because of you, and bottles of your daily vitamins sit perfectly beside all his supplements in the spice-rack turned morning-essentials-rack (one of your so-called organization hacks). 

The pan sizzles, edges of the eggs turning crisp—just how you like it (lately, it’s how he’s been liking it too). 

When you step out of the bedroom, Hajime’s begun plating your food, pouring in another batch of coffee and preparing a bowl of fruits. 

(Today, it’s strawberries—one of your favorites. He made sure to stock up on that for today.) 

Hajime thinks he’s built a pretty solid life for himself—

He prides himself on his routine and the stability of his day-to-day: the mornings, with you raiding his closet and stealing his clothes; the late afternoons, when he picks you up from work and you crash his place because it’s begun to feel so much more like home. 

The evenings cap the day off perfectly, with you tucked under his chin and your leg slung over his hip. It’s too warm, but you get cold easily and he doesn’t mind the warmth when you’re pressed up skin-to-skin. 

And when he sees you in his sweatshirt—the one paired with the sweatpants he’s wearing right now, he smirks knowingly, setting down the utensils with a dopey smile on his face. 

This is good. 

—his life that you now also fit into. 

“Sorry you had to prep the rest,” you pad towards the counter, taking a seat on the stool as he waves it off and sits beside you, “thank you.” 

Without even a word, there’s a painkiller sitting on the palm of his hand, open and waiting for you already. 

You stare at him, puppy-dog eyes and everything, pouting as your fingertips graze his, “I love you.” 

He laughs, rolling his eyes jokingly as he hands you a glass of water, his cheeks already dusted peach.

Shyness still hits him when you’re so vocal like this, but Hajime has known he’s loved you since that day at some outdoor concert you dragged him into. The forecast was gloomy but you’d insisted it was an experience he shouldn’t miss, so he agreed—packed an umbrella and wore a jacket with a hood even, just in case. 

But there you were, in the middle of the downpour, dancing under the rain, and when you’d beckoned him closer, you had that same look on your face. 

“Love you too,” he whispers against your forehead, pressing his lips against it, “happy Valentine’s Day, babe.” 

Breakfasts with the two of you are usually rushed, but work for him today isn’t until noon and you have an entire day off to pack for a two-week business trip you’re set to leave for tomorrow.

So, this is nice. You both have time.  

You’re talking about all sorts of things—some work gossip, that nice old lady who lives a few units down from him; there’s the whole itinerary for your business trip too—meeting here, meeting there. An extra hour to kill to maybe sightsee. Evenings are usually free, and so on. 

But as he’s chewing on half of the chocolate heart pancake, he just can’t, for the life of him, stop thinking. 

The more he hears about your schedule for the upcoming weeks, the more he’s realizing that this is the longest time you’ll be apart.

And he wonders, what’s that gonna be like? 

Most of your clothes will be gone from his dresser, his bathroom counter half-empty without all your skincare. No overheating at night without your arm wrapped firmly around his spine. Just one mug during breakfast, not two, and only a single pair of green fuzzy slippers pacing around the rooms. 

It’ll be a little like how it was before you.

And he hates how that’s even a possibility.  

He takes a sip from his mug.

“So, Oikawa’s taking me out on a date. Is that okay with you?” you lean against your palm, elbow supported on the counter. 

He nods, humming as he sets down the hot chocolate. 

“Hajime.” you hide your smile. 

He snaps out of it, “Hm?” 

“So you’re okay with me going on a date with Oikawa?” 

His knee-jerk scowl is much more like it. 

“That fucker asked you out?” 

You laugh, shaking your head while taking his hand to interlace your fingers with his, “Just seeing if you were listening.” 

A pause, then a squeeze. 

“Wanna tell me what you’re thinking?” 

He tilts his head slightly; one look at you and you draw it all out of him. There’s something about this—breakfasts in his kitchen, with you wearing his clothes and the morning light streaming in. You share a joke or two (or five), a few teasing touches here and there, the mood relaxed and just overwhelmingly nice. 

Hajime is so authentically himself when he’s with you that he doesn’t want anyone else knowing the parts of him that you do—

Everyone would be surprised to find that his typically uptight self is surprisingly funny when he’s let loose; he’s made you laugh a good number of times to prove it, too. 

The boys would never let him live it down if they saw him peach-faced at the tiniest bit of your affection; and they’ll tease him for eternity if they find out that the reason he taps out so early during ‘boys’ nights’ is because he still gets so excited to cuddle in bed with you. 

This is the kind of day-to-day he wants, and he knows you’re the key to all of it. 

—so, Hajime chooses you, much like he’s chosen the mornings. 

“Move in with me,” he tells you simply, two fields of olive green sincerity. 

The words flow out of him with an intensity uninhibited, something you don’t get from him very often. Your expression shifts, breath on hold and—

“When you get back.” he follows up quickly, giving you space to consider it first, “What do you think?” 

All logic is telling him he should be nervous, that this is the defining moment of another goal he’s been working his ass off to reach, but somehow, with his hand in yours, this feels easy. Comfortable in all the good ways because loving you has always been just that. 

“Sex last night was that good, huh?” 

And this—there’s never been a problem with this too. 

He snorts, cheeks turning a deep peach. 

“Just realizing that mornings don’t feel the same without you,” he admits, pulling you closer. You hop off the stool and inch closer, standing between his legs as he rests his hands on your lower back.  

“Flirt.” you scrunch your nose, squeezing his waist. 

You say that, but he sees how your smile reaches your eyes; how it glosses over when you catch his gaze. 

“Okay, muscle boy,” your hands settle on his shoulders, fingers splayed out over every dip and curve, “better do all the moving then. Want all my stuff here by the time I get back.” 

.

And he does—

When you get back, he’s contacted his landlord to get you on the lease. Your clothes are all in his (or now your?) apartment, some still in boxes but the essentials already organized in the closet now split to house both of your things. 

There’re pieces of you everywhere now, not just touches like a person half-there. A lot of the big furniture is still at your place, but that’s really just because he wants to leave that part up to you. 

—after all, it’s your home now too.

thank you notes: @augustinewrites for loving hajime as much as i do 🥹 lights down low used to be a normal soft song for me before, now it belongs to him bc of u + @soumies @mysugu bc this is kinda really so self-shippy and every time i think of seiwa i think of you both 🥺 + @ktsumu for requesting this! i know it only slightly follows the prompt but i hope you enjoy my spin on it anyway 🥺

a/n: i don't think any amount of fic can express how much i love him 🥹 but i hope this comes close 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[euphoricimagination]

Nostalgia

A sentimental longing or wistful affection for a period in the past. Or, when the boy you fell in love with finally comes back, bringing a beautiful chaos with him.

Genre: Exes to lovers; fluff

Oikawa Tooru, famous setter for the Argentinian National Team, a Japanese man who became a citizen in another country just so he can make his dream come true. But to you that didn't mean much.

He was your first love. He was the person you love the most. He made your high school years amazing. He also was the one who broke your heart.

.

You met Oikawa in your first year of high school; as classmates, you were used to having a bunch of girls fawning for him, constant love confessions and soft rejections happening right outside your classroom. He was undeniably handsome, but also very smart and passionate for volleyball; it'd be a lie to say you didn't have a crush on him, but you were never one to want to confess. You became friends after partnering up for a project, he found it pleasant that you weren't constantly flattering him, in fact, he found your little remarks fun; you were nice but slightly sassy.

Soon enough you became close friends, and you end up spending more and more time in the gym to watch him practice. You weren't the manager, but you often helped them while doing other stuff, so you got close to them quite quickly; Iwaizumi particularly liked how easy going you were with his best friend.

You also were one of the only ones who managed to stop him from overtraining, always making up excuses so he could come with you without actually making him stop. He was perceptive, he knew you didn't actually need him to go home, but he liked your company and was more than happy to spend time with you.

It was thanks to his intelligence that he remembered everything about you, from your favorite foods and snacks to the ones that you couldn't eat; every time you and the team went to eat ramen he would always took the veggies that you dislike from your bowl almost unconsciously, putting them in his bowl as he gives you some of his in return. You had a bad night? He noticed as soon as you walked in the classroom, going to buy your favorite snack and drink before taking you away from the prying eyes, talking about everything and nothing hoping you would forget whatever was troubling you, or even better, telling him what happened.

So it was no surprise that you two ended up dating by the end of your first year.

Dating him was surprisingly easy, despite the constant love confessions, he never made you feel less loved; always making sure you knew that for him they were just his fans and no more. He always makes sure to hold you close, to spend time with you after practice, to take you out on simple dates, to make sure you know that he loves you and only you.

Your family adores him, and his family adores you too; staying in each other's house was never an issue, your parents knowing that you both know how to take care of yourselves. You two connect on a closer level a week into your third year, one weekend that you spend with him when his family wasn't home. It was clumsy, slightly painful, but full of love and care. You wouldn't have it any other way.

It was during the first interhigh, when Seijoh lost against Shiratorizawa, when he brought the topic up with you. He was talking with an Argentinian coach, one that he had admired since childhood, seeing if it was possible to join them after he finishes high school. The chances were high, really high, so he started learning Spanish to make sure he was ready. At the time you didn't think about it much, you were happy that he was having such a big chance with his love for the sport, you even started learning the language with him so you could help him out. So when he came to you after losing to Karasuno from a place in the spring interhigh telling you that it was confirmed, that he was accepted in the Argentinian team, it hurted.

It was a mixed of feelings; you were happy, happy that all of his efforts in the sport were finally being recognized, happy that he was going to be with his idol, happy that his dream was starting to become a reality; but you were also sad, not knowing what will happen to your relationship. You were selfish, you didn't want him to go, part of you wanted him to be rejected so he could stay; but you weren't that selfish to tell him, you knew that when it comes to volleyball nothing will stop him to make his dream come true, knowing him too well to know that he will put his pride and love for volleyball over everything else, including you. You didn't want to start a fight over this, rather spending that time with him than without. After all you fell in love with that determination of his.

You went to say goodbye to him at the airport, both of you had decided to break up, not because you wanted to, but it'd have been almost impossible to keep a relationship with such a time difference. With one last kiss you say goodbye to him, your heart breaking as he walks away.

.

Years passed, almost 10 years since you last saw him. You studied kinesiology since you ended up liking volleyball and helping the players; you had a boyfriend, a relationship that lasted a while before you broke up. You and Oikawa didn't kept in contact, but you both do follow each other in social media, so you knew the basics of what the other was doing; plus, Iwaizumi was always giving you small little updates.

However, sitting in the bench of the MSBY Black Jackals where the Japanese National Team was practicing, was the last place you expected to see him again. He was walking beside Iwaizumi with a smile, a smile that seems to become brighter once his eyes find yours. His eyes went a bit wider as you feel your heart beating fast, were you happy? Confused? Scared? You don't know, but it definitely was something. Memories found their way to your head, feelings that you thought were more than forgotten seem to start surfacing again.

“hey” he says sitting next to you after a while “wasn't expecting to see you here”

“I can say the same to you” you answer back “what brings you back?”

“My team was invited to practice here in Japan, i had the day off today, so Iwa-chan invited me over” he explains, making you nod

“I'm their kinesiologist, and since i worked with some of them before, it was easier to get the job here”

“Nice, maybe you can help me? My wrist is being weird lately” he says with a small smirk and a clearly fake pain expression

“Does your team not have someone or what?” You look at him with a raised eyebrow

“We do, but i rather have a pretty girl look at it” he flirts with a wink. It makes you chuckle how shameless he still was with his flirting “I'm kidding, I'm totally fine…but maybe we can have dinner together?”

At that moment someone from the team calls you for some help in his stretches, so you look at Oikawa with a smile before standing up to help them.

Once they finished their stretches you began to put your things away, you noticed that Oikawa was talking to Iwaizumi, so you quickly went out of the gym before he saw you.

“Yn-chan! Want to grab dinner with us?” Bokuto asks, walking outside the gym and passing his arm around you alongside Atsumu and Hinata. As the door is closing, your eyes find Oikawa’s, a small frown in his face as he looks at Iwaizumi again.

“Sure, let's go”

.

“Did Shittykawa ask you something when he came?” Iwaizumi asks you, it has been three days since Oikawa came to the gym

“Eh…yeah, he wanted to have dinner together”

“And?” he asks

“I…well, I was overwhelmed. I didn't expect him to be here, so I didn't know how to react”

“Understandable…well, I kinda expected it. He hasn't stop bothering me to give him your number, I haven't done it though, you two have a lot to sort out”

“Thanks” he wants your number? Why, all of the sudden?

“He's coming again today, so you might wanna talk to him” he pats your head lovingly “but also, he's driving me nuts, so please do”

You chuckle, knowing how Oikawa can get and how much he can annoy Iwaizumi. You made a note in your head to talk to him.

A few hours later he's in the gym, interacting with the coach, Iwaizumi, even some of the players right before he comes next to you once again.

“You left mee! So mean, Yn-chan” he pouts sitting beside you

“Sorry, i..i had to do something” you say to him. You had forgotten how much you had miss him and his whiny self

“It’s okay, you were with your…boyfriend?” he looks at you, an emotion that you couldn't describe

“Boyfriend? Bokuto-san? No no, we're not dating, Bokuto it's just…Bokuto” you look at the owl boy, who's now excitedly jumping “what about you? No girlfriend missing you?”

“Nah, the only ones calling me from Argentina are, at most, the workers that are expanding my house” he says, a small smile on his face. You did know him, and while so many years have passed, his eyes are still as expressive as ever: outside of his teammates, he was alone there.

“I know a good ramen place nearby, we can grab dinner there if you want” his eyes get brighter

“Sure”

+

“Haven't had tsukemen in a while, these aren't in many places in Argentina” he says as the server puts your food in front of you

“I imagine it'll be hard to find true japanese food outside of japan” you say looking at your bowl “so, trying to reconnect with your girlfriends, Oikawa-san? I'm sure Iwai told you i was going to be there”

“Oikawa-san? Ouch, Yn-chan, ouch” he says, taking his chopsticks. He instinctively takes the fish cakes out of your bowl, just like he used to do when you were together “you still don't like them, right?”

“Thanks Tooru” the name still rolls out of your tongue easily, as if you were again the same 17 year old kids

“And yeah, I know, i… I wanted to see you again” a rare blush spreads in his face “and for the record, you are the only ex I'm reconnecting with”

You chuckle and take some of his food, he smiles and whines, but he still puts some more into your bowl.

.

“That jacket looks awfully similar to Seijoh’s” you comment to the man who was waiting outside the gym, white with light blue accents; and it suddenly feels like high school all over again, him waiting outside the gym while you locked it up, looking at the sky before smiling at you. It's eerily how similar it felt, the only difference being his physique and the fact that his back had an ARGENTINA written on it

“Take a photo, it lasts longer” he ruins the moment, noticing how your eyes are still glued to his body, a smirk appearing on his face; smirk that disappears when you hit him “What was that for?!”

“Shut up Shittykawa”

“Not you too!” He whines, but you can only see playfulness in his eyes as he extends his hand “mind joining me on a walk?”

You look at his hand, you want to hold it, see how it feels to hold it again, but you're still hesitant; so instead, you pass him your backpack and start walking. He chuckles, but follows right behind you.

+

You end up walking towards a familiar place, a park that was near Aoba Johsai, a park where you and Oikawa used to go constantly after school. It was involuntary, both of you were just walking without a destination set, a comfortable silence between you two.

“Remember when we made a study group in our second year?” He asks pointing at a tree

“The one where you refused to study and laid on my lap? Or the one where you “accidentally” pushed Iwa into the lake?” you chuckle

“It WAS an accident!” he says offended

You sit on a bench near said lake, your legs almost touching from how close you were. You notice him shiver, the night was getting colder and he only had the flimsy jacket on that clearly wasn't made for this temperature. You take your bag and took out a scarf you had, getting closer to him to wrap it around his neck.

“We can't have the most talented setter get sick, can we?” You say smiling at him, as you try to move away he held your hands

“I think my hands are slightly more important from keeping them from freezing” he says, looking directly into your eyes

“You just want me to hold them” you raise an eyebrow, but still give in, taking his hands and trying to wrap yours in a way so it can bring some warmth. He chuckles, moving them to properly hold them

“I missed you” he sighs after some silence “I thought I was over you, that I'd be able to move on and find someone else, but I couldn't. I tried, I had some girlfriends, but it never felt…right, and I didn't know why. Until I saw you in the gym again. I actually hoped that you would have move on, so at least i didn't have a single chance, but here we are”

“We are”

These past days, you also thought you were over him, that your feelings for him were nothing more than nostalgia, but this week you were so happy, so happy to have him again.

But the truth is, you didn't have him back. He wasn't yours again.

“But I'm not dating you again. After your training camp here is over, you're going back to Argentina, and I don't want to leave Japan; long distance relationships aren't safe either. I love you too much to hold you back now that you finally achieve the dream that you work so hard for, I'm not that selfish”

You barely can finish your sentence before you feel his lips on yours. You're surprised, but your body instinctively reacts to it, kissing him back. His lips were just as soft as they were years ago, and the kiss made you feel the same butterflies as if you were 16 years old.

“I have a week more, give me some time” he whispers, his hands cupping your face as if you were the most delicate thing he has ever hold “but for now, let me have this again”

That night you both end up in your house, making up for all the years you both lost.

.

A week later and Oikawa proves to be the same amazing boyfriend that he was before. He still manages to make you blush, manages to prove just how much he missed you.

Now you're in your apartment, he was talking on the phone, an important call that led him to your room -after giving you an apologetic kiss- while you were sitting on the couch. 30 minutes pass when he comes out again, a smile on his face.

“Hey princess” he calls you, pulling you closer as he sits “remember that I'm leaving tomorrow night?”

“Yeah…why?” you were trying to avoid thinking about it, knowing that tomorrow night your heart will be broken again

“Well, I know you said that long distance relationships are impossible for us, but…” he press your forehead closer “will you be able to wait for me every few months?”

“Eh? Stop going around the bush and say it” you hit him slightly, anxious to know what he has planned

“So impatient” he chuckles, kissing you again “tomorrow I'm signing an exclusive contract with the Panasonic Panthers. I'm playing for Argentina for the important leagues, meaning VNL, the Olympics and such; but for smaller leagues happening within the country, I'll play here, meaning I can stay here for a few months and come back to Argentina for the rest”

You were ecstatic, shocked with the sudden news about it, you kiss him.

“But…but didn't you go to San Juan because of the coach? Don't you want to stay there?” you ask worried

“Yeah, and it was amazing to be trained by him…but coming here I realized that you are my home, that I want to be with you, and some sacrifices need to be made” he pulls you into his lap, holding you close as he looks at you into your eyes “i already sacrificed you for the sake of my dream, now that my dream became reality, I'm not sacrificing you again”

[thisisxli]

Hajime x tooru's twin sister!reader who is bold president of a science club in school headcanons?

OOOOH this is a MUST

Miss the old haikyuu 2020 days fr. And man is this my best work yet trust🙏

Hajime Iwaizumi x Fem!Reader(Tooru's twin)

Rs: Hajime Iwaizumi x Fem!Reader (Tooru's twin sister)

Warnings: ANGST, a little bit of bullying, awkward talks of teenage sex, sexual depictions, suggested themes, nsfw(lasts for a sentence or two), disorder mentioned, implied death

Tags: sad.. Bittersweet, fluff, hajime is so cute, hajime acts soft around reader, childhood friends to lovers, high school sweethearts, old age, marriage, a little smut

Recommended song: (play by the end)

wc: 1.5k

a/n: this made me feel nostalgic and pretty sad to write imo.

How you met/first impressions:

You met each other through your brother, Tooru. Tooru was snarky and keen on keeping his best friend to himself but you were even more petty. When Tooru was distracted on trying to set a ball, you would quickly grab Hajime by the wrist and drag him to your hiding place. Occasionally, it would change because your brother would somehow find it.. always.

To Hajime, you had to be one of the prettiest girls he's ever seen in all of his six years of living. You.. also became his first heartbreak. He proposed to you with a ring pop and you refused. "Pee-yew! I don't wanna marry you, Iwa!" He was left super dejected and sulked until Tooru was forced to distract him to get his mind off things. Ever since then, he was always teasing you and making smart ass remarks at you.

He was a odd boy. What made you like and wanna hang around him like Tooru does was that Hajime was adventurous. He seemed strong too. And you wanted two boys to look up to anyways to treat you like queen so you tried your best to boss both Tooru and Hajime around. You entirely started to acknowledge Hajime when he comforted you after Tooru hit you in the head with a volleyball.

How you start to like each other:

Hajime has always liked you since you were little kids. Obviously. But he made sure it wasn't obvious to you or that you were merely someone he stole answers from for science class. Someone who was just his best friend's twin sister. It wasn't like he was gonna stay like this forever... He just didn't know how to approach you. And he has his doubts. He's basically like Paxton Hall Yoshida only that he didn't sleep around and he wasn't that dumb... He just sucked at science. So he goes to you but he makes fun of you for it.

You realize when some random jock drops all the books in your hands on purpose, laughing and high-fiving with his friends. "stupid- STUPID SHITFACE!" Your shout literally reaches everyone's ears. Including Hajime's.

For some reason, the jock gets offended and goes up to you, chest to chest. Except his chest was much larger and higher than yours. "The fuck d'you say?" You nearly recoil when you feel his hot breath hit your face. "I said-" "betta' keep that mouth shut, sweetheart," he cuts you off immediately, wincing when he shoves you against the lockers. People are already crowding and pulling out their phones. Great. But before anything else happens, the jock is roughly jerked back and lands on his butt. And there stands your prince Charming, Hajime Iwaizumi. You notice that his ears are red. Steams were also practically steaming out of his ears. He stomps his way over to the jock that stood up with a small stutter. "Better keep that mouth shut, hm?" Hajime stares the jock down. Clearly, the boy wasn't going to back down so he scoffs, rolling his sleeves up. The jock's eyes quickly widen and murmur a 'my bad ' and takes his leave along with his friends, a few applauses and cat calls being earned from the crowd.

"You okay?" Hajime barely grasps your fingertips in his, looking at you with concern. Your heart was quite literally about to explode over what just occurred.

How you confess:

The tension was awfully SO obvious.. Matsukawa was frantically complaining about the faint flirting and playful teases. But neither you or Hajime did or said nothing. Matsukawa basically face plants at that but he sorts out a plan with Hanamaki and Tooru. Tooru was almost against it but he did have to admit, he literally knew everything about how the two of you felt. And it was painful to watch you and Hajime, it cringed him out LIKE JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY!!

Tooru had sent you a text that he was already home. So it was just you and Hajime. You both left the school in silence. Started walking in silence. Entering your neighborhood in silence. Before you thought another moment was gonna be filled in silence, he tugs you by the wrist. He confesses and pours out everything he knows and feels about you. How long, when, where, etc. You confess too, a smile adorning your face when he looks away all flustered. You kissed him on the cheek before you went in your house, leaving him alone with a hand on his cheek and a slack jaw.

How you get together:

He was waiting for you outside the door after your club meeting ended. He seemed nervous but you knew what he was trying to get at. So you simply do the job for him. "Wanna be my boyfriend?" He gives you that signature head scratching smile, giving you a nod. You both walk home together that late afternoon, holding hands the whole way.

How you kiss:

They're very sweet and slow. Hajime respects you enough to not over step your boundaries unless you ask of him. He gets very wary when you do. "Are you sure? Are you reaallly sure? I don't know.. Suure? Okay, okay- fine, c'mere."

Sometimes things get heated. The way his tongue glides over yours seems like they almost suggest something. You would smirk against his lips and push yourself on top of him to get him flustered on purpose. Or you would... at least try to pin him against a wall. "(Y-Y/N).. We- we can't yet.. not yet.." This would get you very pouty but he kisses you through it and holds you so you don't catch a fit.

What he loves about you (Adults) :

He loves that you stayed through all this time. He's known you about twenty one years and you both have dated each other for nine years. Obviously when it becomes your tenth anniversary, he's gonna propose.. He just doesn't know how... And he seriously did not mean to wait that long..

He loves to kiss your pulses and your eyelids. He thinks those are really intimate to do and he just really loves that you're alive and breathing.

He loves when wrinkles start to spawn whenever you concentrate. It makes him think he'll grow old with you.

When you're married: he loves it when you cling onto him for life on your honeymoon, screaming his name when you're bouncing on his shaft. 'Give me your babies' you chant. It makes him giggle at the thought.

Awkward discussion with your kids:

One of your kids get a unusual.. and awfully weird offer. Luckily, they came to you both about it for advice and for curiosity. "Why do people have sex?"

Honestly, it was like you were ready for this question but you were unprepared. You knew how high school could be very.. Ratchet. Especially with all the drama, sex, hormones... You were sure things were worse for their generation. But you thoroughly explain and answer with all you can to your child's questions, trying not to cringe halfway.

Your husband was NOT prepared at all. He wasn't ready. He wasn't even really expecting this conversation until LATER. man, he thinks. 'Their generation would really bring us all down.' He stays and tries to answer though.. It's mainly just you talking and you seem completely fine and cool with it which he doesn't understand at all.

After an argument:

Usually, a child sulks and becomes completely depressed when their parents fight but oh no, not your child. Your child absolutely loves to step in between you and Hajime's arguments. Your child was basically the anchor, almost. Keeping you two steady.

Hajime would realize his mistakes and so would you. So you both make up to each other and show each other your love, hugging each other and never letting go, falling asleep in each other's arms once you do.

Who gets Dementia?

You, you do.

It's a sad thing, really. Old age was really hitting you both, you especially. It saddened you both but you both knew it would be okay all as long he was next to you and you were next to him.

It would hurt Hajime whenever you would forget his name and slowly how he looks like. But he never gave up, nor did he ever pressure you into trying to figure out who he was. That's also how you knew that man was someone you loved. Every time you would remember though, everything suddenly became waterworks. You would cry about being young again and experiencing so many things with each other without a problem in the world.

Last moments?

"Hajime?" You murmur, reaching out for his wrinkled hand. He turns to look at you, eyes glossy and sullen looking because of his droopy skin. He rubs his thumb across your hand, kissing your knuckles. "You're beautiful."

You smile warmly, closing your eyes just as you tell him so, "take me to the moon."

Fun Fact:

As young adults, Hajime was suffering without you in California. He immediately made sure you never left his sight when he went back to Japan.

At the ages of 6, Hajime had nursed your scraped knee. When he gave you a Disney Princess band-aid, you kissed his cheek politely and he happily accepted it.

[zumicho]

she’s the first female driver in formula one history to win the monaco grand prix. instead of a celebration, they replace her with a longtime rival. it sends her down a spiral no one can save her from. except maybe race engineer iwaizumi hajime.

PAIRING iwaizumi x reader, not so slight oikawa x reader

TAGS, CWS social media racer au, childhood friends, love triangle, fem!reader, written parts with summaries (indicated by 🏁), language, details on injuries, suggestive, mentions of sex (no smut), maybe ooc, kys/kms jokes, drug tests, alcohol consumption, angst, flawed and imperfect characters, images for visual purposes

THINK lewis replacing carlos + challengers + gran turisimo

QUICK TO DEAD THE BULL LIKE A MATADOR . . . !

MOODBOARDS & PLAYLISTS: Y/N’S, HAJI’S, TOORU’S

introductions : city girls NOT up , dreem teem , the grid (extras)

DISCONTINUED. READ MORE HERE

inspired by @plagalkey — thank you again for letting me use some of your art ♥︎ ur an absolute godsend (more credits will be added!)

a/n you don’t have to know about motorsports and racing to read, definitions will be added for certain chapters! if updates take long, imagine me pacing around my room taking deep breaths after typing out each sentence .. this fic is my magnum opus it means the world

masterlist growing sideways

[guppybibi]

Ditzy Princess

𖦹 pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 2019

𖦹 content: mild cursing, childhood friends to lovers (eventually..) , denial, she fell first but he fell harder, reader is oikawa’s little sister, reader’s brain is a lil empty, but she's a strong woman nonetheless!!

𖦹notes: i have so many wips..but hajime my Filipino king AUGHH (im gaslighting myself shh)

✧. ┊    Part 1

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Being Oikawa Tooru’s little sister meant that you were equally as insufferable as him, debatably even more than him according to Iwaizumi. Iwa wouldn't go as far to say he disliked you, despite you being 2 years younger than Oikawa, the three of you still grew up together and developed a pretty strong bond. Oikawa had his moments, being the seemingly arrogant and egotistical person he is. Iwa was aware Tooru had some issues with his self esteem and was helping him in his own way. But in your case, nothing was backing you up. You really were just a crybaby diva, wailing as her big brother comes to save her. It really didn't start off so bad, after all you were a child who needed guidance and protection. He expected you to just grow out of it, news flash—you didn't.

Now that you're in your first year in Seijoh, he couldn't avoid you at all no matter how hard he tried. Being a headache must be in the genes, I guess. But you weren't worth putting up with, so he just started distancing himself away from you. Sure, sometimes you would barge into the gym, interrupting their practice to go to your doting brother. Which pissed him off, obviously. Though it was hard to tell since he always had a scowl on his face no matter the situation. Oh and by sometimes, he means every single day–unless you were absent or something.

Unfortunately for him, Oikawa wasn’t present today due to getting a nasty cold. Normally he’d make fun of Oikawa, along with the rest of the Seijoh four but he remembers that you’re present and that he would be your temporary savior while your brother is gone. It didn’t help that today in particular was a pretty stressful one, and as if the Gods above cursed him, a bunch of assholes picked on you for being the ‘uglier’ sibling. A bunch of envious little liars.

Naturally, it was your first instinct to go to annoy him. Your muffled cries could already be heard before you've even entered the gym, which made Hajime groan in annoyance as he muttered a random curse under his breath. And as if on cue, the metal door of the gym slides open; unveiling a very much messed up you.

Your mascara all smudged across your pretty face, fat tears staining it. Your subtly pink lips all wobbly as you make your way to Iwaizumi, knowing your brother wasn't here. At this point, this was basically a daily routine for the team, they didn't complain though. You coming in here and taking their captain and or ace meant they had an opportunity to take a break.

“ ‘Zumi! T-they were being so mean to me again, I didn't do anything wrong!” You cry out as you approach the ace with a pout on your face. ‘Pathetic..’ He thinks to himself, you were more than capable enough to defend yourself. (Verbally, at least. Physically is a different story.) “It's not my fault I don't look exactly like Oikawa! And I can't do anything about it, why pick on me for it?!” You continue, wiping away a tear from your glossy eyes.

Hajime couldn't even say anything in response, this wasn't the first time you came to him after someone bullied you for whatever reason. It was a sad thing to happen to you, but did you really have to go to him or your big brother every single time? What if they're not there for you? What will you do then? Still his good conscience couldn't just leave you sobbing like that, your doting brother wouldn't be happy about it.

Placing a rough calloused hand on your trembling shoulder, as an attempt to comfort you he starts speaking. “And what did you say to them after?” He asks, it was a completely normal question, you knew that. But you were used to just..constant coddling, no other questions asked–just instantly tending to you. “I..Nothing? I mean, maybe what they're saying is true..it still hurts though..” You reply, earning a nod from your older brother's friend. You had a point there, but you should still stick up for yourself! You had to learn, plus he didn't want to keep playing as your knight in shining armor when the two of you are pushing your thirties.

“Did you want to say something back to them?” He questions, raising a brow. You could be doing this for shits and giggles for all he knows, maybe this was a plan you and Oikawa had or something. “Well um, kind of?..” Even that answer somehow made sense, coming from a ditz like you–he didn't really expect much. “So can you or can you not defend yourself?” He asked yet again with a gruff voice, watching intently as he saw you shake your head. Okay, cool. You aren't doing this just to piss him off, that's a start.

“I could teach you, if you want to.” You blink once, twice. “Teach me how to..fight for myself?” You never considered it, you were just used to your big brother being there for you. No matter how serious or stupid it was, he’d be there in a flash. He nodded, crossing his arms as you thought about it. Your brother wouldn't always be here, today was proof of it. The same goes for Hajime, who knows where he's going after high school?

“I..think that’ll be nice actually.” And those were the words that started your tutoring sessions. You were incredibly nervous the first few times, like the personification of an earthquake. You did soon manage to get the hang of it, being able to defend yourself against your bullies unless it was really necessary for your brother and or him to step in.

To be honest, Oikawa was pretty opposed to the idea at first. Saying to his best friend that teaching her all of this ‘nonsense’ wasn't needed since he’ll always be there for her anyway. (What Oikawa didn't know is that Iwa was doing future him a favor, I mean–he didn't know he was going to Argentina!)

And so ‘Operation: Teach Y/N How to Defend Herself’ was successful. It had been like years ago at this point, barely remembered by you two like some distant memory. You didn't piss him off that much anymore, though he did have little to no contact with you; only getting updates through Oikawa.

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When he went to Irvine, California for personal matters he was aware of you being there as well since you went to visit and stayed at your grandparents. The chances of you two meeting were slim but fate had to play its part too! Now the both of you were sitting side by side, having a cup of ice cream as you catched up on your lives.

He told you about the meeting he just had with Takashi, some stuff about sports science and his personal life and whatnot. While you told him about life here in the States, being taken care of by your overbearing grandparents and stuff. You were a lot more mature than what Hajime had remembered, still a scatterbrain though. Though something comes up, leaving Hajime at some random bench while he taps away on his phone after you exchanged him your number. Saving it and putting in ‘Puny Princess’, it was stupid–he knew it was as he chuckled to himself.

No matter how fully grown you are, you’ll always be that spoiled little brat who seeks her dear knight in shining armor's protection.

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He was flying back to Japan soon, and he wanted nothing more but to cancel his flight and stay here–with you. Highschooler Iwaizumi would be laughing his ass off right now, any chance to get away from you was a blessing. He’d get on that plane like he's being chased by the police. He thought about it a lot, was it because you were less of a pain in the ass? Nope, that couldn't be the case because you still were. Sure, you didn't exactly need Prince Charming anymore which made you considerably much more bearable but it felt like there was something more to it. Why won’t life just tell him instead of forcing him to dig through a bunch of dirt in his mind?

Maybe he simply got used to being around you, to be fair–he’s been with you through thick and thin after all. Yup, that's what it was. No need to manually crank the gears in his brain anymore, this was totally it. Would he admit he had a teensy weensy little crush on you when you two were kids? God no, and that doesn't matter! I mean, that was like a decade ago–he doubts that mattered right now in any shape or form.

Well the first stage of grief was denial, he’ll work his way up. You, on the other hand, have fully accepted this stupid happy crush you got on Iwaizumi. Even your big brother knew about it, well you were pretty much an open book. Hey, your brother’s words–not mine. The way your cherubic cheeks would heat up when Hajime helped you up when you got yourself stuck in the mud, it was painstakingly obvious that you had liked him ever since.

You and your big brother had a heart to heart talk about back in middle school actually, it sits there playing constantly at the back of your mind.

It was midnight and Oikawa had come home late, you noticed he had been practicing overtime these days which worried you quite a bit but you knew Hajime was there to keep him grounded. So that's how the two of you ended up at 1AM, your brother silently eating his late cold dinner while you accompanied him.

“Did ‘Zumi practice late with you..?” You questioned, breaking the growing silence in the room. In response, he nodded and let out a dry chuckle. “Mhm, you haven't spoken a word since I got home and when you decide to speak it's about Iwa-chan? Do you not care about your dear big brother anymore?” He asks, dramatically feigning hurt as he places a hand on his chest.

He didn't miss how your lips went and formed a thin line, trying your best not to crack a smile. “Cmon, don't lie to your big brother–you like Iwa, don't you?” He teases, trying to get it out of you like he's sipping the very last drop out of the milk carton. “Maybe just a little..” You mumble, finding it just a little bit embarrassing that out of all the fish in the never ending sea, you manage to have feelings for your brother's best friend. “Hm..well I guess if you were to pick someone to marry I’d honestly prefer Iwa y’know?” You almost choke on your own spit upon hearing his words, blushing furiously. “E-eh?! Marry?! It's too early for that!” You exclaim, while your brother starts laughing like a hyena.

His words were very much true though, he trusted Iwa–so much so that if he had the chance to pick the person you’ll marry, he'd choose Hajime with no hesitation.

You roll around in your soft bed, unable to sleep as Iwaizumi’s face keeps flashing in your mind like a broken record. Wanting nothing more than to scream into your pillow, but your grandparents sleeping soundly in the other room prevented you from doing so. You wondered if you would ever go back to Japan, it seemed like your brother wouldn't after hearing him recently renounce his citizenship but it's not like you were going to follow in his footsteps. You've never felt this homesick before, stupid Iwaizumi–it's his fault for coming here unannounced. You thought your delicate heart moved on from this childish crush of yours after not seeing him in a couple of years, looks like it bounced back after meeting up with him again though..

Well, at least you had some form of communication with him after you gave him your number. That was temporarily enough for you.

[salsakiyoomi]

"i want to get married."

iwaizumi's head snaps up at your statement his attention diverted from his phone to you and his brows furrow in confusion "what?"

"i want to get married." you repeat yourself again, leaning back against the couch cushions and throwing your legs over the armrest.

iwaizumi scoffs, a confused smile on his face "this is the last joke, right?" he questions, frowning down at you as you're looking up at him — it's a bit late into the afternoon, but too early for you to start saying nonsense since you've always been so adamant about not getting married.

you roll your eyes at him, "no." and iwaizumi's frown deepens, "are you okay?" he asks.

you scowl at him "the hell's that supposed to mean?"

he shrugs, his gaze turning back to his screen "just...you're being weird again."

"you're so rude and for what." you huff, rolling your eyes again, you cross your arms, now staring at the ceiling above, "i want to get married, haji."

"can't help you with that." he's still scrolling through his phone, not paying much mind to you.

"i want to have like, a las vegas wedding." you say, and iwaizumi turns off his phone — now you've captured his attention since he stares at you as if you've grown two head, you grin at his expression and iwaizumi assumes the worst — is it that you're suggesting you want to go to las vegas? it is only a four hour drive from california after all.

"a las vegas wedding?" iwaizumi questions as if making sure he heard you correctly.

"yeah like, you know, the ones in those casinos?" you gesture around with your hands as if to emphasize your point, "like i wanna throw on a white dress — but like, not the puffy ones, like a party dress, sequins and glitter one — or you know what, actually, a puffy dress would be awesome." you ramble on, iwaizumi's looking down at you, amused, "anyway, what i'm saying is that i wanna get absolutely hammered, throw on a white dress and get married in vegas."

iwaizumi snorts, "who you gonna get married to?"

"i don't know." you shrug, you reposition yourself now so that your head is laying in his lap and you look up at him, grinning mischievously, "you."

iwaizumi's eyes slightly widen, the tips of his ears turning pink and he groans, pushing you off of him, "you're so weird." he may have pushed you a little too hard that you fell off the couch with a dull thud.

he tries to ignore his skipped heartbeat as your laughter echoes through the living and iwaizumi's hand is curled at his mouth to hide his smile, "come on." you chide, "you know — say, we do get married in vegas, technically then, you'll only be married in vegas."

iwaizumi frowns, "that's not true, who told you that?" you're looking up at him with an entertained smile on your face, "you know, it's way too easy get married in vegas, right? why do you think so many people get married accidentally when they're drunk?"

iwaizumi scoffs, and leans back on the couch, arms crossed — it was a calm afternoon on his day off until you started on with your marriage shit, but unfortunately ( fortunately ) for him, you were his best friend, and roommate, so he had to put up with it, even if he has to pretend to be annoyed sometimes.

he says, "i really hope one day you'll finally mature enough that you stop saying weird shit all of the time."

you laugh, "you're just jealous you can't be as creative as me." iwaizumi rolls his eyes, watching as you get up from the ground and walk closer to him, too close actually that your face is right up his, "but it's fine, i'll get that vegas wedding one day."

you laugh, drawing back away from him and iwaizumi looks away, a slight blush tinting his cheeks, "yeah, dream on."

you hum in response, and with the way your gaze seems to be a bit too distant, iwaizumi assumes you've gone off on to your own little world now, you're no longer looking at him, instead staring at the tv that has a spanish show playing that neither of you understand, but he knows you're not listening when he mumbles a soft, "maybe even a real wedding." under his breath.

[classyinnie]

He hates you.

He hates the way you wear your emotions on your sleeves. It’s excruciatingly endearing to find your gentleness in a world that does nothing but provide you with worries. He hates how, despite your doubts and trepidations, you still look at it with such wonder one couldn’t even fathom or place.

He'd always wondered how such a pure soul—beaten and calloused—can look at the endless possibilities before them and believe they’re worth it.

He considered he might be a coward then, for don’t we all have fears that stop us from stepping beyond the line that confines our capabilities?

He hates your gentleness. How you look at people like they hold the world in their hands. How you listen intently to everything they have to say. How you would offer a hand even if your arms are already full.

He hates the way you wear kindness. How it’s perfectly knitted to your skin, it’s almost second nature. He hates how you would go out of your way to put others before yourself.

"Selfless", he would call you.

"Pushover", he would label you.

But insults were a mere façade to the raging questions in his head as to how. How do you have so much to give?

But most of all, he hates himself for not hating you. Not even a fraction.

You are like a printed polaroid; he wants to vigorously shake to reveal the entire picture.

A pipe dream, that’s what you are. But that doesn't erase the fact that he once stooped so low to even—in his unabashed desperation—consider asking himself if he is worthy enough to experience what it's like to be cared for by you.

—Tsukishima, Iwaizumi, KYOTANI, Osamu, KAGEYAMA, Kenma, Sakusa, Suna

[liillyliilly]

All Night Long

iwaizumi hajime x reader words; 1162 synopsis; the whole pen pal thing had been his mom's idea. now? he was glad that he had someone like her to tell everything to.

(So, if you just give me a chance, I can still show you romance)

Iwaizumi doesn’t quite remember when he started sending letters to Y/n. All he remembers is that his mom wanted him to diversify his communication skills, since he had only really ever talked to the boys on his volleyball team.

So, sending letters back and forth with a girl from Tokyo seemed like a rational solution to Mrs. Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi would send one letter one week and then she would send a letter the next one. And that’s how it had been for four years.

At first the letters were strictly professional. Asking about goals, academics, and life plans. Gradually, the shells of both Iwaizumi and Y/N were chipped away at. Divulging details of a bad kiss, or something hilarious a friend did. When she started to cut out classic memes, putting cardstock editions of volleyball player trading cards and writing out various links to Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up", Iwaizumi thought he met his almost heavenly match.

While she didn't play volleyball, she treated it like something special, and respected Iwaizumi's love for the sport. He felt proud when she acknowledged how much of a hard-worker he must have been to be ranked so highly in his prefecture with his team.

She also always knew what to write to him to help motivate him. Quotes from famous people never made an appearance, she just had the old soul wisdom to articulate exactly what needed to be said to him.

Iwaizumi does remember when he started to wait right next to the mailbox just so he could read her letter as soon as possible. And he does remember when it starts to take him longer than five hours to write a response. And he definitely remembers when Oikawa starts to tease him about his hobby.

“You actually write to her every week?” Oikawa holds up the basket that Iwaizumi keeps all of her letters in. Carefully they are sectioned off by year and then by month. He has written the date they arrived in the corner of the envelope so he can keep all of them organized. When Oikawa starts to pull out letters, Iwaizumi rips the basket out of his hands and holds it close to his chest.

“No, Shittykawa. It’s every other week.” Iwaizumi sides the basket under his bed before slumping back down into his beanbag.

Oikawa grins before sitting down on a chair opposite to Iwaizumi. “Have you ever thought about asking her for her number?”

“Why would I?”

“Because then you guys can talk, without having to wait two weeks before the other responds.” Oikawa shrugs pulling out his phone to mess around on it, eyes peeking out over his glasses to look at Iwaizumi. “Unless, of course, you're afraid.”

“I am not afraid.” Iwaizumi grabs his clipboard to start writing his response letter, her most recent letter sitting on his side table so he can reference it.

Except, this time, instead of a nice long handwritten letter, it’s a simple series of numbers. And a small phrase. “Text me?” Iwaizumi considers drawing a smiley face, or even just a small shrugging stick figure drawing. But he thinks that what he wrote is enough. He hopes it’s enough for her to contact him.

The walk to drop off the letter in his mailbox is agonizing. He retreats twice before his mom yells at him and tells him he needs to send it today or else the letter schedule will be all messed up. The thought of Y/N having to wait longer than seven days to get his letter suddenly becomes more of a worry than his potential rejection of swapping numbers.

On day one, the day after the mailperson picked up the letter, Iwaizumi's hands were perpetually sweaty.

On day two, Iwaizumi felt a little better, he could forget all about his pen pal and then it would be perfectly fine. Except he could never forget her.

Days three to six were a blur. His phone felt heavier each day, and he even decided to leave it home from school on day six because he kept looking at it for too long. Checking again and again for any new messages.

(I wanna get real close to you)

Iwaizumi almost faints when an unrecognized number sends the phrase, “I know who you are Hajime.” He grips at his heart before easing up when the next message is sent. “Because it's me! Y/n L/n.”

She sends him a lot of Godzilla memes. She talks about her day. She asks him about volleyball. She rants about the people she goes to school with. She is perfect to him.

His palms are sweaty as he wipes them onto his joggers as he stares at Y/n’s contact. The phone icon mocking him for his nervousness. He takes a deep breath. She had told him that she’s used to having her friends call her an obnoxious number of times, but that she likes talking on the phone because she likes hearing people’s voices. Iwaizumi leans back on his desk chair and runs his hands through his hair.

He had drank his mother's throat soothing honey lemon tea for at least a week leading up to his decision to call her. But the nerves about what his voice sounded like still irked him. He had been told that he had a rough voice by his friends. A dorky voice from Oikawa. A lovely voice by his mom. What would she think though? Her opinion was the only one that really mattered anyway.

He stands up and shakes his legs and hands in an effort to get rid of his anxiety. He jumps around in his room for a bit as he tries to get his energy out. Iwaizumi puts his hands on his face and reminds himself, calling people is normal. Totally and completely normal. But his reminder does nothing to ease how his right hand is shaking while it hovers over the call button.

He presses the button and hold his phone to his ear, biting down on his lip.

“Hello?” Y/n’s voice asks. And Iwaizumi’s heart races as it tries to find a way to ingrain her voice upon itself.

“Y/n! Hi, it's me Hajime!” He cringes when he realizes how alike he sounds to Oikawa. Enthusiasm didn’t fit the way he acted, but the way Y/n interacted with him made him want to be as keen as possible.

“Hajime! What’s up?” A large smile overwhelms his face as he rubs the back of his head.

Neither really knows how long they spent on the phone talking. But by the time it was around two in the morning, Y/n was snoring softly over the phone and Iwaizumi was breathing at an even pace with his phone sitting on his pillow close to his ear.

(All night long)

[kingofech0park]

six ways to say you're my everything

iwaoi (wc: 6,442)

The new kid moves into the house across the street when Iwaizumi is four. Fourteen years later, he's moving to Argentina. Hajime has never been good with words, so how can he find a way to tell his best friend he loves him before it's too late?

Alternatively, a million times Iwaizumi tries to say I love you, and one time the two manage to get it right.

______

The new kid moves into the house across the street when Iwaizumi is four.

Hajime watches the big moving van pull up in front of the house with great curiosity. He likes trucks. This one comes with a big dining room table, a couch, a little-kid bed frame that’s just the same size as his– and a whiny brat with huge eyes like milk chocolate and brown hair that’s so shiny that Hajime wants to reach out and touch it, and find out if it’s real. The kid seems perpetually anxious, always hiding behind his mother when he makes accidental eye contact with Hajime through the windowpane but still peering out from behind her legs to catch another glance. 

Hajime thinks he’s weird. He tells his mother this, to which she unceremoniously kicks him outside to go make a friend.

So he’s standing outside, scuffed velcro sneakers kicking a rock through the grass when it happens– New Kid is laying down in the grass across the road, looking through the green blades, and then he screams and sprints across the road without even bothering to look both ways. He’s weird. He also runs straight towards Hajime, screaming continuously and uninterrupted, and not even a full body slam into the other boy can get him to shut up.

“HEY!” Hajime shouts at New Kid, who is now fully on top of him and screeching still to heaven and earth and anyone else who could hear him (which is most everyone in Miyagi, Hajime is sure) and the New Kid pauses to take a breath, trembling and eyes huge and glassy with tears as he stares at Hajime momentarily. 

“I saw a bee .” New Kid whispers before the tears spill over and he begins wailing. Jeez. He’s so weird, Hajime thinks, but wraps him up in a hug anyway and pats his back with one tiny hand. The kid buries his snotty crying face into Hajime’s Godzilla t-shirt and as much as he wants to shove him off, the boy’s hair is just as soft as it looks and all up under Hajime’s chin.

“Did it even sting you?” Hajime questions, half annoyed, half jokingly.

“It DIDN’T.” New Kid looks up with indignation, already wiping away the tears. “But it’s a BEE and I don’t LIKE IT.”

“Were you scared? Lotsa people are scared of bees.” Hajime reassures him, patting his back again. The other boy swipes his hand aside.

“I’m not scared. I don’t get scared because I’m super brave!” It’s not a very convincing show, considering the flush on the boy’s cheeks from all the crying and the string of snot dripping from his tiny nose, but he seems dead set on this fact, so Hajime doesn’t push it.

“Well I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.” He says. “I live in the blue house.”

“Iwai… Iway-soomy?”

“IWAIZUMI.” He corrects firmly. New Kid looks like he’s about to burst into tears again as he tries to pronounce it, tongue stumbling over the Z, and Hajime relents. “You can just call me Iwa, I guess.”

“Iwa… that sounds DUMB.” New Kid sticks out his tongue. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.” Hajime is just getting ready to light into him for calling his name dumb when Oikawa says cheerily, “I’ll just call you Iwa-chan!”

“NO!”

“Iwa-chan!!” The new kid hits Hajime with this thousand watt grin, one that feels like sunshine and butterflies and rainbows and makes his heartbeat speed up, or maybe skip a few beats. He brushes off the feeling as best as he can and hides the sudden weirdness underneath a facade of annoyance.

“You’re just mad you can’t pronounce my name, Dumbykawa.”

“HEY! That is very mean.” Oikawa says, stomping one foot. “Iwa-chan is a meanie.”

“It’s IWAIZUMI!”

And so begins the greatest adventure that never truly ends.

______

Within a few weeks of the Oikawas moving in, Hajime has become Tooru’s brave knight in shining armor, and Tooru his delicate prince.

As much as the brunette claims to be big and strong and valiant, he screams when he sees ladybugs and the Iwaizumis’ dog and cries when Hajime reminds him that he’s shorter. “I’ll grow taller than you one day.” Tooru proclaims, cheeks pink and embarrassed, and shrieks at his Iwa-chan to stop laughing after.

Hajime has never had anyone to share everything with before. They eat melonpan and milkbread together in the green grass of spring and share watermelon popsicles when the sticky heat of summer comes around. Oikawa screams when grasshoppers appear before them as they sit on the curb and leaps into his knight’s arms, screaming “SAVE ME, IWA-CHAN.” as he hides behind tiny fingers. June passes fast and July faster, a blink of an eye in 31 long afternoons spent wading in the creek and catching dragonflies. Birthdays pass by full of excitement and cake and new toys to play with, but their new five-year-old status means something new: by August, the pair have a far greater foe than large bugs and thunder to reckon with. They are going to kindergarten. 

Oikawa doesn’t want to, vocally complaining every chance he gets, and Hajime doesn’t either– but he still holds his prince’s hand and tells him important things, like that it’ll be just fine and don’t you want to get super smart and big like your mom and dad? Tooru nods, face screwed up tearfully like it always is when anything remotely bad happens, and the two prepare for the first day of school of their lives.

The last sleepover of summer hurts in all the best ways. Oikawa is up in Iwaizumi’s godzilla themed bedroom with his alien patterned pillow under one arm and the two play trucks late into the night, the last sunset of freedom streaking gold and orange across the evening sky. They watch movies until too late, eat far too many sugary snacks, and as night falls, Oikawa snuggles into bed next to Hajime despite the existence of a perfectly good futon and whispers into his neck, “Iwa-chan, I’m scared.”

“Me too.” Hajime mumbles. He knows he’s the brave knight. He knows he’s supposed to protect Tooru, his sweet prince, but he’s scared. And they’re only five. And kindergarten feels like the biggest monster he’s ever had to fight, or maybe the end of the world.

“But I’ll be with you!” Oikawa looks utterly shocked, surprise written all over his five-year-old features, rosy cheeks so endearing, eyes so big and brown and warm. “Iwa-chan will protect me and I’ll protect Iwa-chan.”

“Yep! That’s a good idea.” Hajime feels the smile spreading over his face as the brunette snuggles closer. 

“We’ll be together forever, right, Iwa-chan?” Tooru asks. His face is all pink and sweet and worried, and Hajime doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t have the words yet to say, of course. I want you with me always and forever and no matter what. Doesn’t know how to say I love you. So he just kisses his best friend on the cheek, short and swift, and hides under the covers.

“Yeah. Go to sleep, Dumbykawa.” He mutters, face flushed.

Iwaizumi is sure of the undeniable truth at that moment– as long as they are together, everything will be okay.

______

Elementary school comes and goes in a whirlwind of time after the two discover volleyball in second grade. 

At first, Iwaizumi is sure it’s another one of Oikawa’s phases that come and go– brief obsessions with constellations, with aliens, with dinosaurs, with drawing, with baking (the shortest, forcefully put to an end by his mother after he almost set fire to the kitchen) but the sport sticks in his life, a new and permanent fixture that changes their friendship in a thousand perfect ways. Time spent wandering through the creeks, Tooru complaining about bug bites, is now spent sweaty and starry-eyed as they both pull off their first decent receives, first basic serves, first sets and spikes that they cheer at, fist bumping as they raucously yell in excitement. Everything about volleyball is new to them both and yet utterly addictive, terrific, fitting into their lives flawlessly like the last piece of the puzzle. Childhoods always pass people by quickly, and theirs is a thing to behold; a thing to dream about in thirty years, a quintessential youth spent finding ways to fly.

But by the end of fifth grade, Hajime is already feeling it– the omnipresent weight of the growth to come, the transition to junior high marking an abandonment of childish freedoms. They have both changed so much since they have met, but volleyball remains, a remnant of a picturesque boyhood to carry onward. Oikawa has latched onto it like a lifeline, and Hajime has to stop him from practicing before he collapses on some worrying nights.

They still have sleepovers often. They practice volleyball constantly, but they still watch space movies at Oikawa’s behest, still share dorayaki and still buy ramune on hot days. But there are other, subtle changes now that they are older; his best friend has begun to sleep on the futon without complaint most nights, and their midnight chatter has become sprinkled with a new topic of conversation: girls.

“Do you have a crush, Iwa-chan? Don’t you think Ishida-chan from our class is cute? She looks at you all the time, you know, I bet she likes you.”

“Knock it off.” Hajime always says, pushing the topic of conversation off before Oikawa can probe too much. The problem with this whole situation is that he doesn’t have a crush. Girls don’t interest him. Boys don’t, either (and it would be sacrilege to admit it if he did). He really doesn’t know what it means to have a crush, anyway. Oikawa has explained it to him before, and he still doesn’t get it.

“It’s like, your heart gets all fluttery and you get excited and you just wanna talk to them! And get to know them. And you think they’re soooo pretty and like to look at them and stuff.”

“The only person I really get excited to talk to is you.” Iwaizumi mutters, voice gruff. “I don’t think I get this whole crush stuff.”

Oikawa looks at him, big brown eyes wide and so, so warm. “Does Iwa-chan have a crush on me?” It’s teasing, but there’s something underneath that Hajime can’t quite place.

“No, Stupidkawa. I don’t have a crush on anyone. You’re my best friend, is why,” He huffs, turning over on his bed. Oikawa sleeps on the futon again and doesn’t whine about being cold, not even once.

______

Tooru gets even more serious about volleyball somehow, once they’re in junior high.

Hajime has to personally drag him home from practice now that they go to Kitagawa Daiichi and are competing. The setter is always grinding himself to dust, trying to be better than anyone else, trying to bring out the best in every player, and trying to beat the Miyagi prefecture’s powerhouse junior high– Shiratorizawa. Oikawa is far from the little kid Hajime met– he doesn’t cry anymore, biting back every feeling instead; refusing to say if he’s hurting, refusing to admit he’s tired or hungry or has any kind of human need, like it would expose a weakness. Every time they have a sleepover now, talk of girls and crushes is a blip on the horizon of Oikawa’s infinite hunger to practice volleyball, get better at volleyball, be the greatest at volleyball, hit a perfect serve, throw a perfect set, c’mon, Iwa-chan please hit it for me just one more time, I want to make sure it’s perfect. It makes so much sense for him and yet is so puzzling to Hajime; the boy who cried in his arms because he saw a bee, not even getting stung, won’t admit when he’s overstretched the ligaments in his knees again, won’t admit when his fingers bleed as he wipes them surreptitiously on the inside of his dark blue uniform. There’s one incident, though, that really cements this new facet of Oikawa’s personality in Iwaizumi’s mind. It’s during a game.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are second years, and Kitagawa Daiichi is playing Shiratorizawa. Tooru is spinning the ball between his fingers, preparing to serve, and his eyes are locked on the enemy– Ushijima Wakatoshi, the left handed freak spiker decked out in purple uniform, eyes narrowed as Tooru goes in for his jump serve. He’s become great at those serves. What once was a cheer-worthy hit as long as it made it over the net is now insufficient unless he scores a service ace, and he’s been practicing for hours and hours, training to perfection, training to the point of injury.

Iwaizumi can feel it from his position on the court. Tooru’s knees are just the slightest bit wobbly as he makes his approach, leaping into the air for the jump serve and his hand hits the ball with a deafening crack, its trajectory poorly aimed but its speed and power immense for a middle school team. But Oikawa’s descent from the jump is wrong. It’s like Hajime can see it in slow motion: his best friend landing on both feet, and then his right knee giving out under his body weight, collapsing to the ground.

There’s some shouting and general commotion but the setter pulls himself to his feet, face screwed up in pain, and continues to move– preparing to set the ball, to score a point, to win the game. Determined to the point of detriment like always. But the color drains from his face when he puts weight on the hurt leg, and he is mid-hobble to a setting position when the time-out is called.

“I’m not hurt, please don’t take me out of play.” He’s begging, pleading, when Hajime walks up to him and grabs him by the arm.

“What were you thinking? Getting back up to play? Stupidkawa!” He’s trying not to shout at his best friend, who’s already in so much pain, but Oikawa just launches himself into Hajime’s chest, finally letting the tears loose. It’s a whispered admission, for him and him alone, into his shoulder that Iwaizumi receives: “Iwa-chan, it really hurts.”

“I know. I can’t believe you tried to keep playing.” Hajime admonishes, pulling his best friend up by an arm around his shoulder, helping him hobble out to the nurses’. Tooru is trembling, trying not to cry some more, but holds onto Iwaizumi like a lifeline. “I want to keep playing.”

“I know.” the spiker replies as he sits him down in the nurse’s office. “But you can’t keep playing if you’re hurt, okay?”

“Shit.” Oikawa mumbles weakly into Iwaizumi’s arm, and the spiker doesn’t know how to tell him: I care about you so much. Please don’t get hurt. I love you too much to see you hurt. I want you to be happy all the time.

So he just says, “Stupidkawa. Take better care of yourself.”

“I know.” Tooru mutters, voice distant. “I know, Iwa-chan.”

______

Hajime doesn’t really get all this crush stuff until he’s a first year at Aoba Johsai.

Oikawa definitely gets it. He’s always gotten it, literally. Confessions left, front, and center, Valentine’s day candy piled up on his desk. He loves sweets, and attention, so he doesn’t seem to mind the overload of girls following him around like lost puppies everywhere he goes. But he never dates any of them, citing he’s too busy with volleyball or some other reason that’s never quite sufficient for his suitors.

There are lots of changes now that they’re in highschool. Like the myriad of girls with one eye always on Oikawa (and by proxy Iwaizumi, because they walk together so much). Like their new teammates and fellow first-years on the team, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who are rapidly becoming their close friends. Like Oikawa growing taller than Hajime, for god's sake. But the weirdest change has definitely been this crush business.

Why does Iwaizumi get a sudden hole in the bottom of his stomach every time Oikawa is getting a confession? Is he worried that he might say yes?

He just doesn’t want to lose his best friend. That has to be it, right?

But the feeling continues. It happens when Oikawa gets excited about a heart-shaped lollipop someone gives him. It happens when Oikawa doesn’t throw away his confession letters and keeps them in a stack on his desk (“It’s not nice to throw them away, Iwa-chan! Just because you’re bad with the ladies doesn’t mean you shouldn’t respect their feelings). It happens when Oikawa goes on a cautious first date or two, never committing to a relationship but always dipping his toes in, toeing the line, something, never everything, and never nothing. And it definitely happens when Oikawa has his first real kiss and Iwaizumi feels a horrific twinge deep down in his gut that sounds exactly like, I’d feel gross kissing anyone unless it was Oikawa.

It hits him right then and there. And he doesn’t tell anyone his secret, but he’s always been a terrible liar, and the guilt feels so heavy, like an iron ball sitting in his esophagus whenever he swallows back his feelings: I have a crush on my best friend.

It isn’t a revelation in the sense that the feeling is new. It’s more of an epiphany, finally understanding something lost in translation for the last eleven years since they met, and it makes him a little sick to his stomach to finally know. Surely he had fallen for him, really, at a certain time, hour, day, minute. But the feeling seems to him to just be a natural way of being, an undeniable fact. It hurts around the edges, uncomfortable lodged in his heart now that he’s aware it’s there, but the world doesn’t end as much as Iwaizumi is sure it will, and he could never tell his best friend he loves him, so life goes on unchanged. 

Oikawa keeps saving confessions on his desk, until the pile has to be shoved into a drawer. He keeps rereading them sometimes late at night, when he’s sure he’s unlovable, and Iwaizumi keeps working to make sure his best friend knows that can’t be true. How can you be unloveable if I’ve loved you since the moment I met you? It’s what he wants to say. But he doesn’t have the words, and he doesn’t look for them. It wouldn’t change a thing. Iwaizumi would rather have him, incompletely, his best friend and everything and anything, then lose him to a stupid crush.

So he does his best to forget it.

______

It’s after the last game of an illustrious highschool career. A game against Karasuno. A game that means that Aoba Johsai’s team, and by proxy Oikawa and Iwaizumi, will never go to nationals.

They’ve all cried already. Iwaizumi has already cried into his best friend’s shoulder, wiped Tooru’s tears, compartmentalized all of this as what it is– a childhood dream gone unfulfilled, a good memory to keep nonetheless, and the last volleyball game of his highschool career with his favorite team he’s ever had the joy of playing on. And the last real game with his best friend. But they’re walking home and Hajime knows his best friend’s eyes are too hard to reflect acceptance; he grieves hard and slow and leaves a mark for himself to remember being hurt. 

“You know, you probably won’t be truly happy until you’re really old.” Iwaizumi says, trying to break the silence.

“Iwa-chan! What kind of curse is that!” His best friend’s voice is playful, but it’s off. The loss is still aching. Hajime knows him.

“No matter how many tournaments you win, you’ll still be that annoying guy who chases volleyball forever.” Iwaizumi is trying. He wants to tell him, you’ll be doing this forever. He wants to tell him, you’ll get another chance to win. And another and another and I know you won’t stop until you win everything. And I believe in you– but the words are failing him just like always.

“You always have to throw in an insult.” Tooru rolls his eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say–” Hajime’s brow furrows in frustration, the irritation getting to him. “Keep going without a second thought, anyway.”

Oikawa comes to a pause in the middle of the sidewalk. Does his best friend know how beautiful he looks in the moonlight? The flush in his face, the redness near his eyes from crying, lashes long and still wet, his soft hair swaying slightly as he walks. Hajime wants to tell him all of the most important things. He’s going to lose him soon. They will go their separate ways for the first time in fourteen years. I love you, he wants to say. You’re the love of my life. You’re going to be incredible anywhere. You always are. You’re every star in my sky. Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words. But he tries, just like always.

“I couldn’t be prouder to have you as a partner.” He says. “And you’re the absolute best setter.”

Iwaizumi Hajime does not know how to say it yet, how to say I love you , but he can see in his best friend’s eyes that it reaches him anyway.

______

Everything is changing all over again. Iwaizumi is moving to California for university. Oikawa is leaving, too, but even farther somehow– twelve hours of time difference away from the street with their two houses in Miyagi, to Buenos Aires, Argentina. The setter will train and train, train with José Blanco and train on the beach and grow huge wings that will fly him to the moon and stars. Hajime’s prince is becoming a king, and he won’t need a knight in shining armor by his side any longer.

It’s all happened too soon, and the unspoken confession weighs too heavy, too noticeable in his throat, bleeding all through the spiker’s lungs and skin as the date creeps closer and closer like a scheduled execution– the day his best friend, and possibly the love of his life, boards a plane and disappears to a far-off land to chase stars all by himself.

Iwaizumi has been taking care of Oikawa his whole life. Defending him from ladybugs and holding his milkbread and bandaging his scraped knees and helping him to the nurses’ office. Humming him to sleep on rough nights, spiking every set he throws at him, helping fill out a thousand forms for volleyball team applications. He’s never been good with words, but his love has been spoken through a million actions, a million moments caring, protecting his best friend from bees. Even the ones that didn’t sting. Hajime hopes, prays, pleads, that it’ll be enough. The date of departure creeps closer and closer, and the confession aches as it grows, always too close to the surface to swallow, never close enough to say.

The night before the light of his life vanishes into a memory, though, Oikawa Tooru knocks on his window and ushers him into the muggy midnight of a last Miyagi summer.

Iwaizumi gets out of bed slowly, groggily, rubbing his eyes. They come into focus to show pale, perfect setter fingers pressed up against the glass, cheeks flushed, the prettiest brown eyes on earth staring back at him. He cracks open the window. “What are you doing?”

“Iwa-chan!” His best friend smiles that thousand watt grin that got him so whipped fourteen years ago. It still fills Hajime with that big feeling, a swelling thing that makes him feel invincible, like his soul itself was buoyant, unencumbered by any evil of the world. Light. Free. But Tooru is taller now; there is a smugness in his eyes, muscles rippling along his arms, a full set of grown-up teeth between those pink lips Hajime wants to kiss so badly. His prince has grown beyond where he can reach.

That’s okay. He’s proud of him.

Iwaizumi shoves on scuffed white sneakers and swings one leg, then the other, out of the window and lands in the grass. They’ve snuck out like this hundreds of times before; at six, looking to hunt for fireflies in the stickiness of post-bedtime July; at nine, gazing up at the same constellations they always saw while Oikawa pointed out the Little Dipper, Cassiopeia, Orion’s Belt, Ursa Major. Asking if Iwaizumi thought aliens would come and kidnap them if they stayed out too late. Constantly at thirteen, Oikawa throwing set after set tirelessly or practicing his serves until his muscles ached and his knees were scraped on the pavement, Iwaizumi chastising him for his stupidity and holding his hand while they crept home; drinking at seventeen, sharing a secret sip of stolen beer under the light of a half moon, dew catching on the grass, always sharing Iwaizumi’s big green scarf that kept them both warm even if Oikawa had to lean on his best friend’s shoulder to fit. And now, at eighteen; Hajime feels his heart catch and tear on the jagged ribs that cage it. Maybe because it’ll be the last time this will ever happen, and he is not ready to let go.

“It’s my last night, Iwa-chan! Don’t you want to go out with a bang?” Tooru whispers. His voice is hushed and yet so electric; an undercurrent of excitement and passion and the slightest hint of his petulance. So, so easy to love.

“It’s the middle of your last night.” Hajime mutters dubiously. “Doesn’t your flight leave at 10am? Have you even packed?” 

The silence is loud. Iwaizumi looks at his best friend incredulously. “You really are a dumbass.”

“Shut it!” Oikawa retorts, ever so slightly whining, and God, Hajime loves him. “I wanted to go get snacks first! And you can help me pack, Iwa-chan.”

“I am not helping you pack.” Hajime snorts.

“Yes you are. You adore me.”

They walk to the convenience store with those words ringing in his head. They have far too much weight, and they’re so casual, but so true. How do you say I love you to your best friend after fourteen years of knowing it? How can you even start to explain the way you feel? Hajime could tell him lots of things. He could tell Oikawa his stupid hair is so soft and perfect even when he’s slept on it and that it doesn’t matter how much he fiddles with it, his anxiety is pointless. He could tell him that his eyes are warm like milk chocolate and fringed with lashes and that’s what makes all the girls orbit around him like he’s Jupiter, ninety-five moons always circling and never quite touching the planet’s surface. He could tell him that he hates the way he works himself so hard, hates the way he treats himself. Iwaizumi could say that he hates the way that he has to lose him, hates the way that he will let him go, every time, because Oikawa deserves to chase and pin down every dream he could possibly conjure; win everything, all of it, have the world and all the stars in the sky that Hajime dreams of hanging in those big eyes.

Tooru rushes him in the store, proclaiming various things like time waits for no man! and, it’s the last night of my childhood! as they pick out milkbread and pocky and lychee ramune and all the other things Oikawa won’t have in Argentina. They’re still poking around six minutes before closing, and the cashier gives them a withering glare that sends the setter into a fit of quiet giggles. Oikawa’s laughing is pretty, and Hajime resigns it to memory, keeping careful note of it for later– even though he’d really prefer to keep it, to have and to hold forever. They crack the cold ramune open outside and it fizzes sticky all over the setter’s slender fingers. Iwaizumi calls him an idiot like always and everything in the world is right. 

They wash their hands in the Oikawa house upstairs, quietly so as to avoid detection. The setter’s room is a mess– luggage only half packed, Aoba Johsai jersey slung across a chair, glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling from when he was scared of the dark peeling, everything unkempt. Socks aren’t in matching pairs in his suitcase, his Best Setter Award from junior high hanging tilted on the wall, blankets askew. It really only hits when he sees Oikawa’s volleyball shoes tucked neatly into the suitcase: he’s leaving. Possibly forever.

Fuck. Hajime loves him and he’s never gonna know.

Tooru decides after half an hour that packing is boring and also sad and it feels like a sear, red-hot and electric when he grabs Hajime’s hand to pull him outside. Too close. Not close enough. He hops onto his bike, Aoba-Johsai teal, and tells the spiker to get on, right behind him.

“We’ve tried this before. You always get too tired.”

“Iwa-chan, I’m big and strong now and I can totally cycle you to wherever I want to go.” Oikawa protests. He’s right, and Hajime isn’t sure he wants him to be.

“Besides,” The setter continues, “It’s a surprise.”

Despite his insistence, Hajime is the one pedaling uphill with Tooru’s arms wrapped around him within five minutes. His calves ache, burning under tan skin, a sheen of sweat along bare arms. The workout still isn’t enough to distract him from the secret buried inside his voicebox, though, and his best friend’s arms glow pale in the moonlight, fingers pressed into Hajime’s torso. They burn holes right through to his skin, cool through his shirt which is altogether too thick and far too thin. Oikawa’s chin rests on Iwaizumi’s bare shoulder, scorching and distracting, and the setter murmurs a myriad of facts Hajime won’t remember in the morning, pointing out constellations and telling him about the Mars rovers; Iwaizumi is too busy noticing the starlight that catches in Oikawa’s eyes, soft on his skin, reflecting off his hair, to care about anything in the sky. The pair emerges at the top of the hill and Hajime curses as he throws the bike aside, muscles aching, Tooru scrambling off him and the burn of his touch ebbing. Oikawa grabs his face. “Look, Iwa-chan,” he whispers, and tilts Hajime’s chin towards the sky.

He is sure the earth must be a tiny dot. The darkness stretches from end to end and the milky way is sprinkled across it like salt or snow, a trillion celestial suns dotting the cosmos. The moon hangs heavy and cold and Iwaizumi is reminded of the Chinese fairytale of Chang’e, the memory flitting by from a mythology elective. She steals a pill of immortality and is banished to the moon for all eternity. Her husband Hou Yi watches her from earth anyway. Hajime wonders if the trajectory of their lives is the same as his own, Oikawa always chasing things that cannot be held, trapped on the moon for eternity. Hajime will watch him from earth anyway. Hajime will watch him in Argentina from the TV, watch him lose and lose again until eventually he wins, watch Tooru win everything and anything forever and ever and love him all the same from his view on the ground. But just for a little longer, the moon is far, and they can look at it together.

The cicadas are chirping and the two lay in the grass, sipping the last of their ramune, passing the box of pocky back and forth as they stare at the stars. Hajime stares at the empty bottle like it has answers.

“I wanted to take you to the planetarium, before you left.” He admits, voice gruff. “They have all the shit you like, the constellations and stuff. I wanted you to see them.” He does not say, I wanted to see them together. He does not say, I wanted to capture all of those stars and hang them in your eyes. He does not say, I wanted those eyes full of stars to close for a moment so I could kiss you, find a way to say I love you, hold you, never let you go. But all the love he feels is laced into every word, hoarse with adoration, and he wonders if Oikawa catches it. He doesn’t look over in time to see the setter’s face screw up in tears, flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Fuck.” Tooru mumbles, finding his way into Hajime’s arms just like he always does. “I’m so happy I have you, Iwa-chan. I don’t know how to tell you, I just–” He wipes his eyes, cheek burning against Iwaizumi’s bare collarbones. “Thank you for being the greatest best friend in the whole wide world.”

Hajime feels his stomach twist, but his heart still beats warm and steady and certain that he is home.

“And,” Oikawa murmurs, head nestled against his best friend’s shoulder, “We have all the stars anyone could want right here.”

The silence is almost comfortable, almost perfect, with the boy he loves tucked safely up against his collarbone, brown hair tickling his jaw, the warm summer night brushing up against their skin and soaking through. But Iwaizumi’s skin is being burned everywhere Oikawa touches, where his cheekbone sears against his neck, where his chin surely scorches his bare shoulder through his tank top, where his arm wraps around his back and clings to his side, where their legs tangle oh-so-slightly in the grass. The smolder coalesces into a glassy marble, hot on Iwaizumi’s tongue: I love you. It aches. Everything aches, yearning, hungry for just a little more than he can have, insatiable by nature, stinging around the edges. I love you seems serrated now, thorny and caught in the flesh of his tongue, unable to escape and begging to be released. The silence is almost comfortable. But it hurts, too, clawing its way into his flesh with the longing for just a little more.

Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words. Oikawa tries, just like always.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa breaks the spiker from his anguished reverie. “Iwa-chan, this isn’t enough.”

Hajime turns his head to examine his face, swallowing the panic that threatens to explode. “Huh? What does that mean?” He says flatly, emotionless, bracing himself for the sting.

“Fuck. That came out wrong, fuck, it’s just, Iwa–” And for the first time, Iwaizumi really sees him. The boy he loves, shaking. Face flushed. Eyes shining. The tremble of his lower lip, moreso on the left side. The goosebumps on his pale forearm even on such a warm night. Oikawa bites his lip, hard, fingers trembling against his best friend’s skin.

“Iwa-chan, you’re the greatest best friend in the entire world, and it’s not enough.”

“I know.” Iwaizumi mumbles after a moment. “Obviously. You have dreams, and there’s Argentina, obviously–”

“No– fuck– I mean–”

Hajime stares at the ground. Hard. “It’s fine, Shittykawa, I get it–” 

He is cut off by a kiss.

Oikawa Tooru crushes his lips into Iwaizumi like he is dying. His fingers find purchase, clinging onto the black tank top, tangling in his hair, finding lines along his jaw, begging, pleading, stay . Let this be okay. His lips are soft against his best friend’s chapped ones and he squeezes his eyes tighter closed than they need to be, too afraid to see. It’s I love you in a thousand ways that neither of them are quite sure how to say. Hajime tangles his fingers in the other boy’s hair, pulling him close, holding all of him, and Tooru is the one to pull away. The one to confess a secret held and kept for as long as he can remember. “Iwa-chan. You are the greatest best friend in the whole wide world, and I don’t want you to be my best friend.” The setter is shaking. Tears threaten.

“I’m in love with you, Iwa-chan.” He whispers. 

Dead silence.

“Tell me it’s stupid.” Oikawa laughs brokenly. “I know it’s stupid, Stupidkawa being stupid, I know, I know– ”

Hajime kisses his best friend again, every cell in his body screaming to pull that boy closer, hold him tighter, cling to him until he never thinks he’s stupid ever again. It’s rough and hungry and confused and scared, and Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words but he’s sure he’ll die if he doesn’t say it, sure he’ll explode.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” Hajime tells him, holding him so close, staring at those big brown eyes. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Oikawa, I love you more than anything.” 

Tooru’s face is pink and sweet and wet with tears and he whispers, “I love you more than anything, too.”

“Can I kiss you again?” Hajime’s voice is rough. He isn’t good with words. He doesn’t know how to say everything he feels and knows to be true. Doesn’t know how to tell Tooru he’s the center of the universe. But he can see in his best friend’s eyes and all the sparkle in them that he already knows.

“Yeah.” Oikawa whispers, and for a moment, everything in the world is right.

So continues the greatest adventure that never truly ends.

______

The new kid moves away from the house across the street when Iwaizumi is eighteen.

There’s no moving van this time. Tooru hugs Hajime tight in front of the blue Iwaizumi house and they hold hands the whole car ride in the backseat. They both do their best not to cry. Change is a part of life, one they’re both well aware of by now. 

Hajime gives the love of his life one last secret kiss in the airport. Their fingers untangle as Oikawa says goodbye, vanishing into a dream. But he’s never really gone. He’ll be scared of stupid things just like always, work himself to the bone just like always, get stupid confessions just like always. Hajime’s prince is becoming a king, and he couldn’t be prouder. And when Tooru has caught every shooting star he’s ever wished on, won everything and flown to the moon a million times, he’ll come running home. Gold medals will hang from his hands and clank together with the sound of victorious return, that thousand-watt smile on his face even after all this time, his hair still soft and shiny as always, milk chocolate eyes still the prettiest sight in the whole world.

Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words, but he says I love you at the airport anyway.

And, goodbye.

And, I can’t wait to see you again.

______

I hope u guys liked it! I got so obsessed with telling their story over time and it ended up being thirteen pages long on google docs, font size eleven in the span of about 24 hours lmao.

Also, I'm not 100% sure it's technically six of anything. six ways to say you're my everything just sounded like a cool title. roll with it pls

Thanks for reading !!!

[hubookunaluwawa]

the horrifying realization that someone genuinely knows you

it wasn’t supposed to go this way. it was supposed to be easy. casual. fun. but now, you feel like puking. because the second those forbidden words left his lips while he was buried deep inside of you, after a night of the both of you pretending not to know how the other felt, all hell broke loose in your heart. you were able to keep your composure through the end, but once he cleaned you up and fell asleep, you quickly grabbed your stuff and got the hell out of dodge.

your throat tightens up, and your eyes start to sting as you head for the bus stop. one minute passes. then five, and then ten. and then, as if this night hadn’t been bad enough, droplets of rain began to drizzle from the sky. this bus couldn’t be coming any fucking slower, you think, and you nervously tap the side of your leg, hoping with all your might that he didn’t realize you left, because if he did–

“y/n?”

fuck.

“hey!” you feign innocence as you quickly glance at him, “what’re you doing up?”

“i could ask you the exact same thing,” he returns, his smile masking something foreign… something vulnerable.

“oh, well, yeah, i mean, i have an 8 am class, so i have to head back to my place.” you feel your easygoing facade beginning to crumble as you continue to stare straight ahead at the road. you felt gross, lying to someone you always felt so comfortable around. you just hope he doesn’t realize it before the bus gets here.

“really?”

“yep!”

“i mean, i thought you said you don’t like doing… this…” he motions between the two of you, “the morning before an early class. said it fucks up your internal clock and stuff,” he remarks in a tone that makes it crystal clear he’s not buying a word you say.

you turn to look at him once again, and he’s staring at you with a hooded unwavering gaze that you’d mistake for apathy if you didn’t know him any better. unfortunately, you do know him better: enough to notice that the unfamiliar look in his eyes is blatant fear, as if he thinks you could disappear at any moment. and then, how much he knows you hits you all at once, and you’re left a scared little kid with no idea what to do.

“yeah, i guess i just forgot.” you’d have to be in complete denial to think he couldn’t hear the distinct crack in your voice, fake smile be damned. the two of you stare at each other for what feels like hours until the tears threatening to spill from your eyes make you look away.

“y/n.” but his eyes are still on you.

“mhm?” don’t.

“y/n, please.” only on you.

i can’t.

“i need you to tell me if i just fucked everything up back there.” the desperation in his voice is unmistakable, making you catch your breath. your face falls, and your heart hurts more than you ever thought possible.

“why’d you say it,” you whisper, “why’d you have to go and say it?” and his heart shatters at the brokenness of your voice because it was him who did this shit to you.

“when we started this, we promised it wouldn’t turn into anything. and it was fine when it was just me feeling something, but it won’t work with the both of us–”

“why?” something’s changed. he’s angry. “why won’t it work? why can’t we let it work?”

“because shit like this never does!” you scream, and you can feel everything you’ve been bottling up inside for the past few months escaping your body in one go.

“it never does,” you say with a quiet laugh. “we’d get together, and then you’d get bored with me–”

“i could never get bored with you–”

“–or i’d get bored with you,” you continue while noticing the fleeting look of hurt in his eyes that’s quickly overshadowed by anger, “and then we’d only be with each other out of obligation. we’d be ruining a really good thing just for the chance of something different, so just forget it, because whatever… it is that you feel won’t last,” you say as if it’s the funniest thing in the world while gesturing towards him.

“oh, fuck you.” he laughs, tugging his hair in frustration.

“fuck you!” you retort, delirious from the fact that this conversation is even happening at all.

“no, fuck you for trying to tell me that what i feel isn’t real.”

“okay,” you scoff as you begin to walk away. you don’t know where you headed, but as long as he’s not there, you know it’s where you need to be.

“and fuck you for making me love you! in more ways than just one!”

you freeze for probably the 50th time tonight, and you finally look at him again to see the shine in his eyes as he speaks.

“please don’t disappear when i tell you this,” he practically whispers to you with a once-again fearful look.

and you don’t. you’ve heard your fair share of “i love yous” in your life, and they all meant the same, substanceless, conditional thing. and so, the more you heard it, the less you believed it. you’ve seen relationships–both yours and those of the people you care about–fall apart because people will romantically love those that they don’t even like platonically. so you believed, and continue to believe, that romantic love without a platonic basis is an incredibly common recipe for disaster. you know this, and yet, you don’t think you could run from him right now even if you tried.

“i’ve never felt what i’ve felt for you with anybody else. i think about you all the time. like, you’re the first thing i think about in the morning and the last thing on my mind every night. and whenever i see you, it feels like what everybody talks about in the movies and the songs, and it’s like the heavens open up and everything makes sense and my world’s brighter because you’re in it. i’m completely and utterly head-over-heels in love with you.”

he just thinks he is, you try to remind yourself, but this shit isn’t real. it’s just infatuation, a burst of attraction, a trick of the mind. it’ll go away eventually–

“but it’s not just infatuation like you always say.” you mentally curse him for being able to read your mind and peel back your layers so easily, but he takes a step closer to you as he speaks.

“because you’re also the one person i feel most comfortable around. i could be having the worst day of my life and seeing you for a few minutes would make it the best, because everything about you makes me happy! everything! i mean your smile and your eyes and the way you giggle at the corniest jokes and the little crinkle you get on your forehead when i say something dumb and… how you make me feel safe enough to talk to you and know you won’t think i’m crazy, and how passionate you get about the things and people you care about: all of it has me completely obsessed with you, and all i know is that i wanna keep making you breakfast in the mornings and holding you close at night and going on late night drives with you and hearing you laugh because your laugh makes me feel like i’m dreaming whenever i hear it and i can’t help but laugh too because i just can’t believe that, out of everybody on this planet, you keep choosing to be here with me and i just… i love you, y/n. and even if this doesn’t last, i wanna be with you for as long as i’m able, because it doesn’t feel like my love for you is ever gonna go away.” 

and he breathes out the final declaration with a confidence that leaves you stunned because holy shit you’re actually starting to believe him. you can’t tell whether the wetness on your face is from the pouring rain or your own tears. maybe it’s both. but all you know is that, now, he’s holding your heart in his hands. and the scariest part is that he’s holding it with as much care as he’d treat his own heart. no, as much care as you want to treat his. and then, he starts to ramble, which you’re sure you’ve never seen him do (in fact, you’re pretty sure this is the most you’ve ever heard him speak).

you can’t stop yourself from looking at his lips, and the space between you grows smaller and smaller until it ceases to exist.

“i mean, it’s like you’re branded on my heart. you have this insane amount of control over me and i’m constantly wanting to be around you and hold you and make you happy because you feel like home to me but in the best way possible and i just want to be that for you too, and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s completely cool, and we could just forget this conversation ever happened, because you’re also my best friend and i don’t wanna lose you, and i–”

your lips taste sweet against his, and your hands cup his cheeks with a delicateness that makes him feel like crying, and he feels happier than he thinks he’s ever felt because he knows what this kiss means.

you take a moment to break apart, the tip of your nose brushing against his as he chases after your lips, and you desperately proclaim, “i’d never get bored of you either. i love you. i love you. you’re all i want.”

the bus you were waiting on passes you both by, and he meets your lips again, sighing into the kiss with relief. and you both make a silent promise, right then and there, to never let each other go again.

[seiwas]

ෆ a small valentines collab by augustinewrites & seiwas ෆ

can i ask for a piece of your heart? you have mine already —snippets in time holding the different ways to say 'i love you'

MASTERLIST

augustinewrites

ෆ "i want you (i think you know)." — miya atsumu ༝༚༝༚ realizing you’ve fallen for someone you shouldn’t have is hard. even harder when that person is miya atsumu.

ෆ "made with love." — miya osamu ༝༚༝༚ onigiri miya will be closed on valentine’s day (the owner plans on getting engaged).

ෆ "hey stupid, i love you." — gojo satoru (keeping up with the fushigojos) ༝༚༝༚ how to almost ask your not so secret crush to be your valentine.

seiwas

ෆ "i left my keys on your bedroom floor." — miya atsumu ༝༚༝༚ atsumu is the clumsiest guy you've ever met; nothing ever goes to plan, especially when it comes to love.

ෆ "mornings don't feel the same without you." — iwaizumi hajime ༝༚༝༚ hajime thinks that it's been a long time coming for him to wake up with this realization.

ෆ "don't let go, okay?" — gojo satoru (conversations on love) ༝༚༝༚ it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentines day.

*masterlist will be updated as we release each fic. boosts are appreciated!

ෆ in the spirit of this season, a gift full of love from us to you ෆ — @augustinewrites & @seiwas

[satorusluvrgirl]

WELCOME TO SATORUSLUVRGIRL’S KINKTOBER

Authors Note! hello! welcome to my first kinktober 2024! i’m so excited to show you all my ideas! however I will only be doing TWO blogs each week as I have a busy schedule! this is what I have for these next coming weeks! I will not tolerate no hate at all. blogs & repost are very appreciated! enjoy reading <3

Warnings! afem!reader, MalexFem. some characters may be dominant or submissive. she/her pronouns used only. pet nicknames are used. in every blog there will be warnings! please be cautious.

WEEK 1: oct 1 & oct 4

october 1; KAGEYAMA TOBIO|| slapping

october 4; NANAMI KENTO|| daddy

WEEK 2: oct 7 & oct 11

october 7; TOJI FUSHIGURO|| degrading

october 11; SUNA RINTAROU|| blindfold

WEEK 3: oct 14 & oct 18

october 14; KAMO CHOSO|| titty fucking (collab with @leahrintarou)

october 18; IWAIZUMI HAJIME|| spanking

WEEK 4: oct 21 & oct 25

october 21; SUKUNA RYOMEN|| cuffing

october 25; KUROO TETSURO|| choking

WEEK 5 oct 28 & oct 31

october 28; GETO & GOJO|| fingering

october 31; BOKUTO KOUTARO|| roleplay

all works are done by @satorusluvrgirl ™️

comment to be tagged in every post! <3

[thisisxli]

hihi can i request a fic of iwaizumi x reader some type of angst to fluff like reader is a foreigner and she overhears iwaizumi making fun of her or her accent just to hide that he likes her?

REQUEST - 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐇. 𝐱 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Rs: Iwaizumi Hajime x foreign Fem!Reader

Warning: angst, betrayal, a BUNCH of shit-talking, racism, bullying(kind of), mentions of insecurities, ghosting

Tags: fluff, shy iwaizumi, bright reader, oikawa tooru is a little shit, reader is a independent baddie, small slow burn, friends to lovers, iwaizumi is shitty with feelings

Summary: Iwaizumi whom hasn't had any experience with anyone develops a crush for the new foreign girl. He comes down to the decision to save his reputation or to be with you.

wc: 3.1k

recommended song(s) :

"(L/N) (Y/N), thank you for having me," you smile and bow at waist-level, sitting back in your seat. You don't think much of it when you hear the whispers of other students around you.

"She has such a thick accent.. I swear I'm not trying to judge buttt-" Matsukawa quickly cuts Oikawa off, crossing his arms over his chest, "isn't that a little racist, Oikawa?" He smirks at the pouting boy. Their group continues to ramble on about you until you enter the hallway. Some even stop to look at you.

Iwaizumi literally freezes in his spot, stealing his entire attention. He watches you walk past his group with a worried expression and here he thinks that you're super cute. Sure, you weren't Japanese but hey.. That doesn't mean that can stop him from liking you, surely. "Oh, oops! Sorry, can I uh- can I get through?" The volleyball group turn to look at you, shock ridden all over their faces. Without a word, they oblige and let you through. And of course, your locker was right next to Iwaizumi's. He was screaming inside his brain but no one knew that.

You were starting to get scared because of how this boy was staring at you right now. Your hands start to become hesitant when you pick out a notebook from your locker, eyes awkwardly darting back to him and your locker from the side, "um, can I help you?" Iwaizumi blinks at you, looking up to his teammates who held confused and amused expressions. He quickly shakes his head and looks back to you, "y-yeah, sorry. Uh.." Well. How awkward, you both think.

"(L/N)," you speak for him before quickly going on alert, "actually you don't have to call me by my-" you think to yourself for a few seconds, "surname. Just call me by my first, (Y/N)!" You awkwardly laugh, shutting your locker door. The group of boys raise a brow at you and start to snicker, some even starting to whisper in each other's ears. Iwaizumi slightly frowns when he sees this. You notice it all, shoulders slightly slumping. "Yeah.. (Y/N). I'm Iwaizumi Hajime, you can jus' call me.. Iwa, I guess," he mutters, straightening out his volleyball jacket. You quickly nod, bidding each other farewell till you walked off.

Iwaizumi avoids the stare of his teammates, turning around to open his locker. "What was THAT?!" Oikawa practically jumps on him, leaning his arms against the bulky boy's shoulder. He shrugs him off, "nothing. What's your problem?" Oikawa snorts in disbelief, waving off the few nagging girls surrounding his teammates. "My problem is that you seen like you like her! And even maybe," Oikawa points an accusing finger extending out and inwards at Iwaizumi, "maybe you'll even plot on getting with-" he quickly gets cut off with a hard slap to the head, Iwaizumi shuts his locker and walks off to his next class with pink ears. "Yeah, as if."

Turns out.. you both had the same class. And you both sat next to each other.. Just his luck, huh? Was it god doing this to him? What fate had brought you two constantly together after your first interaction?

"Iwa?" He just didn't get it. Why was your locker besides his? Stupid foreign girl couldn't ignore his stupid staring. "Iwa?" Now he has to hear shit from Oikawa. Maybe even Matsukawa and Hanamaki.. It pisses him off at the thought. "Iwa?" He turns his head to the voice calling out his name, glaring hard. You blink at him, faltering under his stare. His face quickly turns back to normal, shoulders relaxing, "yeah? Sorry." You chuckle, tucking a few hair strands behind your ear. Woah, he thinks. "It's okay, it seemed like you were pretty distracted so... But I wanted to ask you if you maybe wanted to be.." He raises a brow when you scrunch your face as if you were afraid of his answer, "partners for our project?" You squeak out. He tilts his head at you. What did you say? "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

You fiddle with your bracelet, "do you want to be partners?" You say a little too formally. He makes an 'oh' shape with his mouth before nodding, rubbing the back of his head. After that, you both continued with the rest of class and headed to your next one. But just before you did- you got his number, of course. Iwaizumi was almost flustered. It was unexpected and weird, usually girls went to Oikawa for this kind of stuff- except, you did this for your shared project.

Iwaizumi wipes his damp cheeks with his towel, taking a sip from his water bottle when he takes a quick scroll through the phone, nearly choking on water when he sees your contact name. Oikawa's head turns to Iwaizumi in curiousity.

(Y/N) :)

Hey! (Y/N) here. I wanted to ask how you wanted to start out the project.

5:26 PM

Iwaizumi quickly looks around before turning his full attention on his phone, trembling thick thumbs dashing across his keyboard.

Iwa H.

Oh, it's no prob. Maybe we could make a slideshow about it, idrk. Your choice?

5:27 PM

(Y/N) :)

Oh yeah! I completely agree. Just let me know when we can start working on it. If you can, you can come over to my place or I come over to yours? Or if not, a library of course.

Boy do you type a lot. He makes a face and cocks a brow but he says nothing of it, going back to typing.

Iwa H.

I could ask. Just see if your parents are okay with it. I'll tell you the time and everything if I'm able to go.

5:28 PM

(Y/N) :)

Okay!

READ 5:28 PM

Iwaizumi sighs heavily, sliding the sweat drenched towel off his neck as he hears a ding come from his phone. He looks back at his phone and sees you text.. some kind of an emoji? What was that? He makes a confused face.

(Y/N) :)

Okay!

(≧∇≦)/

READ 5:29 PM

He purses his lips together and reacts to your 'emoji' with a thumbs up. "So we exchanging numbers with the foreign exchanged student now?" Oikawa's voice calls out by his ear. Iwaizumi jerks back and quickly swings a punch toward the brunette but he quickly ducks back, a huge pout on his lips. "Iwa-Chan! You could've hit me!" Iwaizumi walks over to the locker rooms where the rest of the boys were, Oikawa following not too short from behind.

"Tell me, tell me? When d'ya exchange phone numbers?" Oikawa perks up behind Iwaizumi's shoulder before getting his nose elbowed by him. "Oh? Iwaizumi's gettin' bitches now?" Hanamaki walks over, sliding on his shirt. "I bet'chya it's that new foreign student," Matsukawa laughs, catching the attention of his other volleyball teammates. "The one with the weird accent?" Kindaichi suggests. "The new bug-eyed girl?" "The ugly person?" "There's a foreign student?-" "she sounds weird-" "cute for a foreign girl-"

"Alright! Shut up!" Iwaizumi turns to glare back at his teammates who were silenced. He slips off his shirt, folding it and putting in his bag before attempting to find his other spare. "She's jus' nobody alright?! Me and her are partners for this project, don't get your dicks so pent up in a twist," Iwaizumi grunts at his teammates, slipping his spare shirt on. "So chill the fuck out," he huffs while Oikawa comes up from behind, patting his back. "Hey, we're just joking, Iwa-Chan. It's all good," Oikawa smirks at him and he just sighs.

Joking his ass.

Iwaizumi started to be around you more and talking to you more. The more you were around, the more stares he got. Even his teammates would say some slick shit, no matter how many times he would console them. He seriously didn't want this. He didn't want to deal with it. Fuck, he had to do something.

You were rambling off, standing next to him in front of your lockers as he listened. Or at least he tried listening. He couldn't listen when all these people were staring and whispering behind your back. This seriously gave him a bad look. The school bell rings and you chirp, "looks like class is starting! see-ya, Iwa!" You start to walk away and wave back energetically to the boy who weakly waved back. Well shit.

The school day was over and Iwaizumi was acting really strange lately. You didn't think much of it. That is until you heard familiar voices from the volleyball team in the hallway you were about to turn to. You hear your name come out from one of their mouths, quickly hiding by the wall and tucking your hair behind your ear to hear better.

"You sure you don't have a crush on her?" One scoffs.

"For someone you don't talk so highly about, Iwaizumi, you sure love to hang around her."

You perk up. What were they talking about? Did Iwaizumi say something bad? Something in your gut is telling to run away.

"Fuck no," you hear a gruff voice say. You know that voice. Run.

"I rather fuck a dude than to be around her ass again." Run.

"She seriously gets on my nerves. There's not one time where I don't understand her at all." Fucking run.

"She sounds super weird sometimes. Her accent gives me the fuckin' ick." RUN.

"What about those sweet little texts, Iwa-Chan?" You hear a familiar one say; you think it's the Oikawa dude.

"Oh, that shit?" He scoffs, "please. She texts me non-stop. I'm being real fuckin' generous by even replying to one of them. Plus," you could almost see the smirk plastered on his face in your brain. "I only got her number to get the bomb ass grades that she's got. But if anything, she needs to go back to where she came from." Deep laughter erupts from the group of boys' throats.

You bring up a trembling hand to your mouth and start to dash the way you came from. Fuck, you think. You were never gonna talk to him, ever again.

A few days had passed and you weren't here. Where were you?

"Hey 'Kawa, you seen (Y/N)?" Iwaizumi gently pushes at the brunette's shoulder, rolling his eyes when Oikawa gives him a smirk. "Worried about her, I see?" He smiles triumphantly before that facade quickly gets smacked away by Iwaizumi's hand, a small whine coming from the tall boy. "Answer my question," Iwaizumi taps his foot impatiently. "I don't know! I haven't seen her at all, so I don't know," Oikawa huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Noted.

Iwaizumi quickly turns around to leave, calls of his name slowly fading away when he walks further down the hallway. And now... He finds himself standing in front of your house. He fiddles with his phone, looking back at your messages.

Haji ♡.

Hey, where r u??

???

Are you sick?

We had notes to take down tdy, want me to send them to you??

Hello?

Are you okay? Did anything happen?

(Y/N)????

Please talk to me.

Come back, please.

(Y/N)?

???

READ 7:02 PM

Well fuck. Either something was wrong at home or he's screwed up. He's screwed up real bad.

He steps onto your porch, his hesitant fist a few centimeters away from your front door. He purses his lips behind his teeth, giving your door a few knocks. Shit, he already regrets this, he thinks. Before he could turn around, the door opens and revealed you. "You," he breathes, shoulders slightly relaxing. You fidget in your spot, eyes looking everywhere but him. His heart twinges at the sight. "Did you... see my messages?" He speaks out. He suddenly feels so small. You nod your head, looking down to your mismatched socks. You both awkwardly stand there in silence just before he speaks up again, "hey so-.. I just wanted to talk.. Is everything.. okay? Like you haven't gone to school or anything and-" "no." Iwaizumi looks up at your face, blinking in surprise, "no?" "No," you say sternly, fists clenching in anger. Uh oh. Yeah, he totally fucked up.

"You... I thought-" you stop speaking when you hear your voice tremble, exhaling heavily through your nose with closed eyes. "I thought.. you liked me," you embarrassingly say, turning away with flushed cheeks. "I thought.. we were friends. I thought we actually got along! I ignored everyone who was talking about me because I had you!" You start to raise your voice which he winces at. You knew about everyone? Yet you never said anything, let alone react. Huh. "I went out to hang out with you! I lied for you- just so you didn't get in trouble! I distanced myself from time to time so no one would talk about YOU! I shared my secrets with you- I-" you look up to Iwaizumi with glossy eyes, tears overwhelmingly pooling at the corners. Iwaizumi looks back at you with a hurt and distraught face. "I trusted you. And to think-" your voice breaks, "to think I even liked you!" You accidentally let out a sob, your hand quick to hover over your mouth.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What has he done? He was worrying about what his friends thought of him- what everyone would think of him- but what he didn't think about was how you would feel. How you felt. Never has he once asked you about your situation. He just stares at your crying figure. God, were you beautiful. "(Y/N), I-" you cut him off with a teary-eyed glare. "I just... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I was being selfish, I.. I just wasn't-" he throws his head back when he feels his tears slowly start to come in.

"I like you, (Y/N). Please, forgive me. You don't have to right now, but please. Please do," he shakingly breathes, a tear or two slipping from his eyes. His eyes shoot wide open when he feels your warm hands cup his cheeks, meeting your sad-scrunched up face.

"I am so, so sorry. I like you, I genuinely do. I like you so much," he confesses, looking back at you and stepping closer, analyzing your shocked face. "I like you so much.. But I was so, so, so fucking blind. Whatever you heard me say wasn't true. I was just a scared boy who wanted people to like him. But all this time, I had you," his voice cracks, weakly throwing his hands up towards you. Your face was full of confusion and hurt. "I like you, so so much. I like your accent, y-your Japanese! I like your hair- your skin- your eyes, everything about you, (Y/N). And I'm sorry I made you think otherwise. And I'm sorry I let other people influence me and get in the way of how I feel about you," he shuts his eyes tightly, hanging his head low in shame.

You take a loud sniffle, careful to let out a exhale through your mouth, "I forgive you, Hajime. But it'll take time to gain my trust back again. But," you nearly let out a sob, thumb caressing his cheek bone, "I might move."

His eyes widen. And suddenly, he's pulling you to his embrace, clutching you tightly and caging you with his arms. "Please, no don't- don't go," he whimpers into your ear pathetically. You snake your arms around his neck. "I'll try."

For the rest of week of school, you didn't show up. He was getting really anxious. But other than that, he would literally glare towards people's way whenever he heard your name come out of their mouth. Whether it be a stranger or a friend, a conversation he wasn't involved in, he straight up glares at them.

"Iwaizumi, I thought you didn't like her?" Yahaba suggests, cocking a brow at the spiky haired boy. "Yeah, you were all like 'oh she's so weird! She's so-' OuGh!" Iwaizumi elbows Oikawa right in the stomach, hard. Oikawa hunches over, clutching his stomach, "hey- that really hurt- what's your problem?-"

"My problem? My problem was that I became a fuckin' follower to everybody who was so fixated on talking shit about (Y/N). My problem is that I let it happen! That I said all those awful things about her!" Iwaizumi yells, accidentally... slipping a thing or two out than what was needed. Oikawa looks up at him with a surprised face. Matsukawa and Hanamaki drops a volleyball, letting it roll away as they walk up to him, Matsukawa starts, "yo, are you good?" More teammates look their way. Great, he thinks. What a way to draw attention-

"Hajime?"

His eyes nearly shoot out their sockets and boy he has never turned around so fucking hard in his life. There you were, standing by the doors of the gym, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. You were dressed in casual clothing, cute but casual. You ignore the stares of everyone in the room, staring at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi alone. "(Y/N).." He croaks out, quickly wiping off his sweat with a towel and runs up to you, encasing you in his sweaty arms and torso.

You squeal, slapping him on the head but you recoil when you feel his sweat.

"Oop," Yahaba narrows his eyes at the sight, his fingertips hovering over his lips. Iwaizumi chuckles and lets go of you, his eyes scanning all over your body. Your cheeks become hot at that. "So it turns out.. I talked to my parents and so.."

"Sooo?" Iwaizumi drags out the 'o', his teammates scooting closer to hear the conversation better. "I'm staying at the school-" "YES!!" He sweeps you up in his arms again, stealing all the hair in your lungs when he bear-hugs you. You let out a light hearted laugh, hugging him back. You didn't care about his sweat at this point.

Oikawa's eyes softened. This was.. really sweet, he thought. Maybe you weren't so bad after all. He guesses it really was wrong to talk about you like that and all. It seems that you make Iwaizumi happy. He smiles and gestures to his other teammates who were thinking the same thing. "Yayyy!" Oikawa skips over to you and Iwaizumi, the other boys following not too far behind.

But, you weren't really fond of everyone there so while they were cheering, you just awkwardly smiled at them.

You and Iwaizumi wall through the school doors, hand in hand.

A girl scrolls through her phone, blowing the gum in her mouth while her self-obsessed friend rants about the 'Oikawa Tooru.' She looks up, gum popping in her face when she catches you and Iwaizumi walking together. She quickly nudges her friend, catching her attention. She darts her gaze towards her friend and you- wait- you?!

You let out a quiet laugh, leaning into Iwaizumi's arm. What the fuck?! Heads turn your way and whispers start but you pay no mind, not when Iwaizumi's there. Not when he's staring at you with such gentleness. Jaws of even more people drops when you and Iwaizumi share a quick but longing kiss, parting ways to go to your classes. Well damn.

While other students whisper behind his back all Iwaizumi can think is how he got so lucky with you.

a/n: I felt really good writing abt this one. I like it :) thank you for the request <3

if you want to read more like this, check out my Masterlist.

[zumicho]

MOUSETRAP! ← IWAIZUMI / AKAASHI SMAU EP8: DON’T DATE THE DROPOUT ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

cw: excessive swearing, innuendo, teasing

— FACTLIST!

• this one is a lil confusing w the setup but i hope its understandable even if it takes awhile for u to get there

• akaashi’s chat from last ep flipped i dont know what happened but please ignore it

author’s note: team akaashi hang in there i got u in the next one ☝️

TAGLIST — REPLY/ASK!

@needtoloveoutloud @rory-cakes @minaluvu @tenjikusstuff4 @cherrypieyourface @strawberrygloom1 @bows4life @dreamsofnaughtiness @suitstars @vivianne666 @this-is-me-lolol @kettlepop @giocriedpower @literaleftist @yuminako @kagtobis @wolffmaiden @gsyche @fllavviiaa @guitarstringed-scars

bolded didn’t work

sycamore girl is my fav love song of all time

out of appreciation for all the love mousetrap has received im no longer gatekeeping it - if that was even possible in the first place

[siriusly-writes]

“I love you”

“No”

“I love you”

“You can’t”

“Why, I love you”

“We ca- I can’t, please”

[capta1ncr3ampi3]

Clementines

Memories flash through my eyes as I recall the days when you bestowed upon me flowers—delicately holding my hand before placing a small bouquet of hand-picked orange Clementines no matter what day or occasion, awakening butterflies in my stomach as they flutter.

“Clementines…my favorite” you softly utter, fingers barely grazing through the vibrant petals as you silently admire them. Their beauty never escaped your notice, evoking warmth and adoration each time they graced your hands. 

“Thank you..” A wide smile adorns your lips, cheeks painted by the color of crimson reds. You take a step closer, arms finding their way between his neck, looking up to meet his gaze before leaning in to plant a small peck on his lips.

He pulls back slightly, holding out his hand, as you gently place yours. He wraps his fingers around your own pulling you towards him. You both danced the night away beneath the silvery glow of the stars, your shoes wearing aching blisters on your heels.

I didn't really know what to do with this one...I had a dream abt this n decided to try n write it. I'm thinking of making this a sequel ig??? Im kinda imagining a forbidden love trope here... it can be whoever you want it to be 🤷‍♀️