#hajisa

[myelocin]

hujan di mimpi | iwaizumi h.

synopsis: like saying “we did good,” and meaning it everytime. 

genre: fluff, parent au | wc: 600+

characters: iwaizumi hajime, lisa’s imaginary family, and lisa

a/n: hujan di mimpi means rain in a dream.

-

like rain in a dream, hajime feels like he’s forever soaring.

feet above the ground, head in the clouds, and the drip, drip, drip of the rain touching the puddles reflected on green eyes that hold all the colors of the earth. 

there’s a house with big windows, and three sets of little slippers next to his and yours by the door. yellow raincoats and froggy umbrellas. two boys that scream with the world then whisper in the dark when their baby sister slumbers on his chest. 

a finger that signals a hush, then your steady, calm presence that reminds them of the meaning of patience. 

hajime’s eldest son who look at him as if he’s what number one means, the second the same, just a little quieter, and his daughter who holds the same color of earth in her two little orbs. hands that close and open towards the window, towards the rain, and he smiles at the memory of you trying to catch raindrops in your youth. 

(there’s so much love in his heart, he feels like he could just burst.)

but it’s the thunder crackling, her stirring, and your chuckle that breaks the bubble of the moment of silence that settled. 

a quiet exchange of love, wordless. your eyes meeting his across the room. both of your sons on either side of you on the couch, fast asleep, while your 10 month old daughter lies against his chest fast asleep despite the clap of thunder. 

rain in a dream, and he’s remember what it feels like to fall in love all over again. the soft lull of raindrops against a windowpane, the green of the plants he knows you water well by the kitchen, and an i love you exchanged with your eyes smiling at his. the soft beat of his heart like a gentle rhythm for a sleeping infant nestled warm against his chest, while your hands rubbing soothing circles on your son’s backs is what security feels like to them. 

“we did good,” more as a feeling than just words spoken with every little victory, because it’s the something that lingered long after he built a home with you. 

there’s trophies of his eldest son’s first trophy from winning his first volleyball game with takahiro’s son, and a photo of the two boys smiling into the camera, toothless. a peace sign and a thumbs up, but they’re happy. 

his middle child in a framed photo holding his youngest, a gentle look in his face because he was always the softer one between his boys. 

but he still says we did good every night. to you, when you face him and cradle his face for a kiss before bed, and to himself when he holds you, because he know he did more than good. 

he has a home with photographs and a father’s day gift he proudly has framed in his office signed with two names and a baby’s hand print. 

rain in a dream, and this is love.

[myelocin]

iwaizumi & in love pls 🥺

iwaizumi hajime falls in love first with the rain, then with you. the rain, for one, because it reminds him that despite the downpour and chaos the storm brings, it also is the very thing that cleanses him. like that night, after the loss, he cried in the rain and let his frustrations be known to the world who at that point, he doubts is even listening. but then comes you, an umbrella in hand and an are you okay written in your eyes. the rain came and soaked him to the bone, then cleansed him of his armor that had been shown to the world through the words “i’m fine,” over and over again. 

are you okay? your eyes asks, and hajime answers by standing up then huddling under the cover with you, his shaky grip answering that he isn’t, and that his body aches. 

it’s a couple years later and a few rainstorms more where hajime stands under the rain again, umbrella in one hand while the other is between the two of you, pinkies just barely grazing against the other. when he hears you say his name, something inside him stirs: like the ripples on the puddle he steps in. 

he thinks of the rain cleansing him, then inhales once, before twice just for good measure. he hears you laughing as you step on a puddle, and when he looks at you, his green eyes looking like the drenched leaves after the rain, he smiles.

(his heart thrums once more, and he knows he’s in love.)

[myelocin]

hi nic i hope we r all oke,,,, uhuk comfort song (kinda) start//end by eden, biggest hurt is never being enough, and iwa please and thank u ;w; take care of urself bubu

eden...tears..rmb when they were still called the eden project.... (no words we r soul sisters now)

-

when iwaizumi hajime first told you that you are even more than everything for him, you nodded your head a total of two times while you pat your hands dry on the towels by the sink four times (and another just to be sure). you could hear his voice from beside you, a bit muffled with the toothbrush in his mouth, but his eyes met yours on the mirror you stared at, so despite the hum in your heart that used to tell you to run, you stood your ground and offered him a smile instead.

at the start, you didn’t have it in you to believe him just yet. just see where it goes first, you told yourself then. give him a couple months--if it even gets to that, a mantra you’ve said again and again, your hands on the steering wheel, practiced smile hurting your cheeks, and the sight of hajime waving at you from the exit up ahead. just see how this goes, and then you can afford to start believing.

and if there was anything iwaizumi hajime was always good at, it was the silent way he understood you. you, as in you as a whole; the hurts, the smiles, the laughter, and the tears that either meant your heart was overflowed or overwhelmed. 

it didn’t take peeking into your journal, asking your friends for the reasons why your playlist had been changing its tone lately, or reading through the tweets of the spam account he didn’t tell you he found a couple months back. he thinks he understood you a little bit more in the mornings.

quiet cups of coffee shared with a hello and a sleepy good morning, the sound of your fork clanging on the plate everytime you picked up a slice of fruit, and if whether your eyes were puffy looking at the dewdrops or sparkling as the two of you allowed for silence to be your company. 

tonight, as he watches you with your back turned towards him, he remembers eden on your phone and the loop pressed instead of the shuffle on your better days. hajime listens a bit more to the sound of the water on the sink running, and watches as you move from plate to mugs as you run them over the water a little longer than he knows you usually do. 

the sound of raindrops tapping on the kitchen window has you looking up in seconds, and hajime smiles softly as he stands up. 

puffy eyes.

you hear his slippers clap on the wooden floor only a few times before you feel him knock his shoulders against yours as a hello. 

the rain outside falls steady, and the kitchen remains in silence.

it’s a little past sunset, and your heart sort of hurts when you notice that the red of the sunset and the light from the setting sun isn’t enough to cast light in the sky anymore. 

(you want to cry, but hajime is still right next to you, so you turn the switch and allow the water from the faucet to fall harder.)

“that’s a lot of water for just washing spoons,” hajime beside you says. 

he’s drying the plates you set on the rack, his movements as steady as the tone of his voice.

(the urge to cry persists.)

“i just want it to be enough,” you answer him.

“it’s still water, lisa,” hajime tells you, and even if it isn’t enough to push the tears out of your eyes, the something in your heart cracks and you can feel your resolve slowly shift.

“it’ll still be enough to clean it. a little drop at a time, but it’s enough,” he says again, and this time you notice through the reflection of his face on the darkened raindrop filled window in front of you that he’s smiling at you.

“take it easy,” he adds, and you feel his lips press against your temple seconds after his words. he takes the utensils from your hands as he lessens the pressure from the faucet, and the raindrops in front of you, you notice, still look beautiful in the dark as it did during the day.

“it’s enough?” you ask him, just to be sure.

“more than,” hajime answers, and this time, you think that it’s safe to start believing him.

[myelocin]

a love that treads lightly | tbow snippet | iwaizumi h.

synopsis: he’s a knight, you’re a princess. you’re the sun, and he’s icarus.

a/n: this is just a snippet of chapter 4 in tbow :)

though the ways of the world may not always be kind, in a sense it still knows mercy. 

mercy, as momentary peace and not always something that can be considered as salvation. neither a promise nor a vow, but rather a break in a world that feels like chaos, the inbetween it offers--sometimes just silence. 

for iwaizumi hajime, mercy is this.

barefoot along the grass, a stillness despite the breeze, and you. along the bundles of flowers in the middle of winter, you stand barefoot on frost covered earth, like spring.

he watches, from a distance, like always. arms still against his sides, hands rough and calloused beneath the mesh of his armor. fingers twitching, where he knows comes from the desire to thread through yours. 

in the winter, he finds shelter. 

shelter, as warmth, as this, as you. 

then against the stark white of the winter world, two pools of emerald blink towards you, puffs of air coming after every exhale as hajime chooses stillness and silence to mask his presence. along the frozen roses and thorns, you smile. face turned towards the sky, catching snow on the tips of your noses, hands stretched out as if you were welcoming the first flow of rain after a long summer’s drought.

hajime’s breath is still, heart set in overdrive, but his stance remains calm. 

he smiles with a familiar kind of fondness because he knows you’ve always loved the rain. snow comes close, and by the looks of it this seems to be enough for you. 

and like always, he’s enchanted. 

the stories of old rang true, he discovers. about the moth drawn to the brightest flame, of icarus who loved the sun more than freedom. of this love, he thinks again. 

of a knight with hands calloused from the touches of war, and how he loves a princess who dances barefoot in the grass looking like spring in the middle of winter.

you smile again. hajime holds his breath, fingers beside him twitching.

when you turn to his direction just as the sun breaks through, a halo behind you. illuminating, enchanting, your beauty yours and everlasting--he wills his heart to beat steady.

“hajime,” he hears you call, and at the sound of your voice, his head bows in front of majesty because he remembers his place. but still, he realizes, it’s undeniable that he still thinks of how the palms of your hand would feel pressed against the scars in his. 

-

the ballad of war | taglist

[myelocin]

iwaizumi hajime coming home from work surprisingly early. 3pm instead of 6, him still smelling a little like his aftershave and what he had for lunch.

the sound of the front door opening, then clicking softly as it closes. a soft thud on the floor bc you know he’s probably seated on the little stool so he could take his shoes off. the swish of his slippers on wood because you realize that he still has a little habit of dragging his feet across the floor instead of picking it up and walking properly.

you, some tangerines in hand and seated at the kitchen table with the after rain sun filtering through the sheer curtains of the window to your right. you hear the sound of the fridge opening and some bottles jostling around before you hear him walk towards you (you still smile at the sound his slippers make when he lazily drags them) and kisses your cheek.

tangerines in hand and a rooted feeling that thrives in your chest as hajime takes the seat in front of you, stretches a bit, before eventually leaning forward with his head in his hands as he stares at you.

“hey,” but it’s said with a really soft laugh.

“i’m home,” you think he wants to say, but he skips over it and tells you a little thing he noticed on the drive home today instead.

he talks about the little puddles and the left over raindrops on his windshield.

“welcome home,” you say anyway; a peeled tangerine in hand and held out towards him.

hajime smiles.

(neither of you say i love you; it’s already felt.)

[myelocin]

thinking about how tsuna, xakusa, daiana, kurana, hajisa, and nikki all look easy on the eyes and roll very nicely out the tongue. yes. yes. yes.