#post timeskip oikawa

[touchlikethesun]

oikawa tooru at 30… putting everyone to shame… he might look cool here but he’s shit talking for sure there’s no question about it

[queer-obsession]

Haikyuu boys reaction to the "he's gone. come over" prank. yes this is super old. does it look like i give a fuck? Anyway, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Kenma, and Suna for this one 😙

Hajime Iwaizumi:

Toru Oikawa:

Rintarou Suna:

Kenma Kozume:

[hajioiks]

I'VE NEVER SEEN OIKAWA THAT SERIOUS ABOUT A FIGHT 😭😭😭😭 HELP-

HAPPY TO KNOW ATSUMU HAS A DOLL FACE IG-

poor iwa he now has 2 specimens to look after

[fandom-circus]

Thinking about how post time-skip IwaOi made their relationship public and in the next interview Japan National Team got asked if they aren't worried that Iwaizumi could be telling Oikawa all about their tactics and they all just collectively lose their shit laughing because Iwaizumi would rather die than let Oikawa win

[nartml]

live footage of me, remembering that iwaizumi and oikawa are on opposite sides of the world and oikawa has gotten his argentinian citizenship, so he plans to stay there for a good, long time:

[vidianelucivious]

How it started & Where they are at - MatsuHana

These two were definitely oblivious that they were being gay.

They really just thought it was bro things to do.

Oikawa was convinced that they were a thing. (So was the majority of the team)

They laughed when they were told.

But then they both went Wait a damn minute and boom now they are aware that they might have feeling. But do they do something about them: absolutely, they flirt even more now.

They tried to test the waters by continuously flirting with each other, seeing if the other had any reactions (they took in all the details)

They don't even know when or how they started officially dating so they just say "Eh it just kinda happened" and not elaborate.

Their hangouts just randomly started being referred to as dates in their heads and they rolled with it.

They were a fast-burn friends-to-lovers with a one-night stand vibe

Officially the residential cupids/gossip queens of Seijoh

Probably have a spreadsheet of every team member's dating history and a list of potential matches.

Have an entire agenda dedicated to making Iwaoi a thing by the end of the year.

Went on "double-dates" with Iwaoi (they didn't know what they were, they thought it was just hangouts)

They even have a backup plan in case they don't make it.

They probably tipped Watari and Kunimi in on the drama and decided to have them continue their legacy of "matchmaking volleyball players".

They probably have them collect intel in exchange of some tips and plans for the job (they take it very seriously).

After graduation, they probably lived in a one-person flat for Uni to save money.

The Matchmaking gc was still in action after the third years left (mainly filled with Watari's complaints of Kyouhaba).

Present day: Makki leaves half of his stuff at Matsukawa's house because "he can't bother with always bringing a bag when he wants to visit", but somehow always manages to haul bags upon bags of random items back to Miyagi everytime.

The Iwaoi plan did not work but they ended up telling Iwaizumi about it in hopes of something happening.

They got the call after the Argentina vs Japan Olympics match.

A celebration with Watari and Kunimi was overdue, and they had a blast (aka shit talked about people and meddled with other's love lives until 4am)

Definitely teased Kyoutani for using them as "reliable sources" for the interview (light novel 13)

Made a lot of Iwaoi references in the interview and hopes to embarrassing them. Watari was giggling the entire way with no shame, then proceeded to quote some of the "company mottos" of the matchmaking gc. The sempais were very proud.

[softeninglooks]

iwaoi week 2024 | day 5: there was only one bed, argentina/california

tooru’s travel backpack slumbered against the foot of the spare bed placed in hajime’s room, emptied of the numerous items they had faithfully carried all the way from san juan to irvine, california. it had been a long journey, and an even longer time since they had last hugged this tightly. when tooru’s tall frame had walked through the automatic gates of the airport, the hours that had separated him from hajime had dissolved into a short-lived memory. the time they had spent separate from one another had shrank to nothingness, the distance had been crossed in a few strides - there they were again, back at the airport, but no longer saying goodbye.

tooru had pulled hajime close and grinned into his shoulder, while hajime had patted him hard on the back.

“long time no see, iwa-chan,” tooru had taken a step back to look his friend up and down. “look how much you’ve grown,” he’d mused to humor hajime. “but you haven’t grown as tall as me yet.”

“and you’re still as annoying as ever,” hajime had feigned anger, his eyes smiling back at tooru.

hajime had driven them back to campus with the car he rented in the u.s., with tooru pointing out every single little change that he noticed about him. he could drive, he had tanned, his english accent had a subtle american melody to it. he was still as scary-looking, though, which had hajime laugh and threaten tooru that he would abandon him along the road.

they were back together as if nothing had changed (nothing had, really), and the same old warmth between them had rekindled, naturally, like the gentle flames of a fire growing greedier from the wind’s touch.

they were twenty, both a world away from everything that they had known before - but the way back to one another was one that could never be lost, for tooru and hajime. it was a certainty without question, a truth.

hajime had shown tooru his bedroom, in which a spare bed had been placed for the newcomer. hajime had spent his free afternoon cooking so that tooru - who must have been tired from the trip no matter how much he protested, hajime knew him too well - could have a quiet evening before they travelled around the state.

the inviting smell of cooked rice had welcomed tooru into the lightly-furnished bedroom, where a godzilla poster overhanging hajime’s bed had had tooru crack a smile. hajime’s numerous physical therapy books were lined upon a bookcase, his notebooks placed on a tidy desk, and a volley ball rested in the corner of the room. like tooru, hajime had grown in more ways than one, but tooru would’ve guessed that the room was his even if he hadn’t known it.

after going on a tour of the campus, they ate heartily in hajime’s bedroom, tooru praising the salmon onigiri and miso soup that his friend had prepared. they teased and laughed, bickered and declared war on each other.

“when we fight, i’ll defeat you,” hajime warned, pointing his chopsticks at tooru. “i’m not giving up on that.”

“you’re on, iwa-chan. my team has been doing really well this season though, so beware. i’ll be the one to beat you,” tooru’s eyes narrowed playfully, but the sharp determination in his voice reminded hajime of all the times that tooru had impressed him, all the faith he had put into him.

“and i’m doing all i can to get stronger here.” hajime showed tooru that he hadn’t forgotten their promise either.

“we’ll fight on the world stage then, iwa-chan.” tooru smiled at hajime, fierce as ever.

underneath their lifelong rivalry, beat the pulse of care and trust, blind belief in one another. hajime and tooru had grown together, raised each other up through thick and thin. this was the only way they knew how to push forward, be it on a japanese high school court, or in different corners of the world. some feelings had been left unsaid, but with tooru and hajime reunited again, they erupted through passing touches, playful smiles, a home-made meal.

and a shared bed.

because the spare bed the campus had provided for hajime’s visitor didn’t last for long.

hajime and tooru found themselves with a broken bed, tooru almost crashing through the underlying slats as they couldn’t handle his athlete’s weight.

tooru had shrieked out of surprise and gripped the rims of the bed, holding on for dear life while the helpless piece of furniture had crumbled underneath him.

after the initial shock, however, laughter bubbled up in their throats. of course something had to go terribly wrong.

“iwa-chan!”

“what?”

“what did you do?!” tooru complained, part laughing, part whining.

“i didn’t do anything. YOU broke the bed!” hajime pointed an accusing finger at tooru, but the smile that he was struggling against gave him away. “what am i going to tell the college?”

“just tell them to get better beds! their beds threaten the safety AND lives of visitors!” tooru tried to sound intimidating, but there was laughter in his eyes. “what are we going to do now?”

“there’s nothing to do. sleep on the floor.”

“iwa-chan! i’m your guest.”

“fine, i’ll lend you some bedsheets to spread on the floor,” hajime deadpanned.

“no!”

“then…” hajime looked around to assess the state of his bedroom. the idea had crossed both their minds - a timid desire that they both felt coiling deep within their chests. as much time as they tried to save time, they really did want it. hajime’s hand flew to the back of his neck, then down between his shoulder blades, nails digging nervously into the fabric of his black t-shirt. “whatever. let’s share my bed. there should be enough room if you don’t move around in your sleep, shittykawa.”

“i didn’t even get a chance to, and you’re already insulting me, iwa-chan!”

“shut up and get your ass into bed,” hajime grumbled, pretending to busy himself with the broken bed to hide the flush that had risen to his cheeks.

a quick glance behind his shoulder told hajime that tooru had obliged. he sat on his friend’s bed, wearing the grey doraemon t-shirt that he slept in and his hair still wet from the shower he had taken. it reminded him of their childhood sleepovers, when they would peek out of the window to stargaze and tooru would tell stories about aliens and undiscovered galaxies.

hajime joined him, taking a seat on the other side of the bed with an awkward edge to his movements.

there had been sleepy bus rides on the way home from competitions before, staying up late at each other’s house and high-fiving or patting each other’s shoulder after winning points. but this was new, as much as both tooru and hajime pretended that it wasn’t.

“so,” tooru began, slipping onto the bed after hajime had turned off the lights and occupied his side. “here i finally am. in irvine.”

“there you are. late as usual, i visited you in argentina last year,” hajime’s reproachful tone joked from the other side of the bed.

“no fair, i have a busy schedule, iwa-chan.”

they were all too aware of each other’s presence. the sound of breaths coming out as amused exhales, their bodies shifting to adjust to the mattress and leave each other enough room. little by little, the wall of timidity between them was taken apart brick by brick, until they could fit back into their own bodies, and the brushing of arms and legs became lucky accidents.

“but i’m glad i made it here. who would’ve known we’d both be so crazy as to move overseas.”

“issei and takahiro weren’t that surprised.”

“no, they weren’t.”

tooru laughed and hajime rolled onto his back, feeling tooru’s arm next to his, sending ripples of warmth down his own skin.

“it’s all going to work out, somehow,” hajime added, his voice laced with a soft tiredness - exhaustion at the end of a busy day.

“it better. i can retire only after i beat you.”

“already thinking about retiring, old man?” hajime nudged tooru’s side, but was trapped before he could pull away. tooru caught hajime’s forearm, holding it down tightly against his abdomen.

“i got you, iwa-chan!” he triumphed through a chuckle, resisting against hajime’s attempts to wriggle his arm loose.

“careful, i’ll kick you off the bed, shittykawa.”

“how mean,” tooru let go. he turned toward hajime, his face relaxed and earnest, smile fading into peacefulness. “but it’s good to be here.”

“yeah,” hajime nodded slightly, and the fire spread to his cheeks this time. he was thankful that tooru could not see it in the dark - his barriers breaking down, as tooru’s hand brushed against his shoulder.

“thanks for the dinner, i loved the onigiri. you’ve grown into a proper adult, hajime.”

“it’s nothing.”

hajime reached back, hesitantly.

as they fell asleep, stomachs filled with a dinner made with love and freed from the constraint of time zones, their arms were pressed against one another, without either of them willing to pull away from the touch.

[hyunjiol2]

homecoming

[rynkyus]

thinking of elementary teacher sugawara koushi calling in his boyfriend oikawa tooru, who just happened to be visiting from argentina, to do a volleyball presentation for his students. but his students keep asking “wait so you’re NOT on the japan national team?” “why won’t you play japan?” “you could have got a gold medal for japan!”

[flyingwargle]

watch party for japan vs. argentina men’s volleyball match tonight @ 8 pm!

osamu doodles jerseys in the corner – his brother’s #11 and his boyfriend’s #20. he stands to admire the sandwich board, startling at the voice behind him. “not #18 fer aran? that’s disrespectful of ya.”

“kita-san!” he whirls around to greet him, bowing slightly. “i know, but i have a feelin’ if i don’t put ‘tsumu’s number, he’s gonna blame me fer givin’ him bad luck.”

kita’s smile is slight, amused. “an’ suna?”

“that’s my boyfriend that yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

“yes, yes, as if i’d forget. i’m comin’ by later, so save me a seat, please. let’s talk more then.”

he watches him continue along, likely to visit the other shops on the block, and then ducks back inside his restaurant. it’ll get busy, if the tokyo olympics set any precedent, especially with how vital this match will be. after losing to germany, they’ll need to win, and then perform well against usa. only then will they qualify for the quarterfinals.

inside, the decorations have changed. the jerseys on the wall, once msby and ejp, are now their olympic counterparts. although the photos still show onigiri miya’s humble beginnings, he added a few taken with the team, including one where they’re all holding his onigiri. it pained him being unable to watch any of their games live, but he wouldn’t change it for the business it gave him.

for the rest of the day, he and his staff work to serve their customers, fulfill takeout orders, and prepare for the watch party. about half an hour until eight o’clock, he tunes into the sports channel, where subtitles of analysts discussing japan’s performance and future odds appear on screen.

there are two tvs – one on a shelf over the bar and the other in the corner of the seating area. he has a tablet set up behind the counter to watch whenever there are orders, but the livestream is still on standby. he turns the screen off as the door opens. “welcome back, kita-san. ya want the usual?”

“yes, please.” he takes the empty seat directly across from him, the same where any of their friends would sit whenever they visit. “are ya expectin’ a full house?”

“yeah, it’s usually busy. i imagine it’ll get busier once japan qualifies.” osamu takes a handful of rice and begins molding it. “they’re under a lotta pressure. ‘tsumu was almost in tears when he called.” it hurt that he couldn’t physically be there, relegated to phone calls and video calls, but if listening helped air out frustrations, he’d gladly sacrifice his sleep.

“the world is expectin’ a lot from them after they placed second in the vnl,” kita agrees. “hopefully, they’ll be able ta get it together tonight.” the two of them watched their friends and family compete mere months ago, bringing their nation to the podium, and consequently, to the top of the world. it’s natural to assume it’ll happen again, but so far, it isn’t easy as it sounds.

the clock strikes eight, and the broadcast starts with official warm-ups. atsumu and kageyama are setting to their players at the net, jumping to spike. it changes to serves, the players taking turns to warm up. osamu watches suna, who spins his ball as part of his pre-serve routine, and then tosses it for a jump floater. it isn’t as fast as atsumu’s, nor as deadly as kageyama's, but it’s earned them aces in the past. he hopes it’ll happen again.

the teams line up to sing their countries’ national anthems. a solemn silence falls over the restaurant as everyone follows along, osamu included. the camera zooms in on their faces, strict with determination and focus. suna looks into the camera when he’s in frame, and osamu whispers a voiceless prayer to him.

atsumu is the starting setter, along with ushijima, sakusa, aran, suna, and hakuba. yaku is their libero. the others stand on the sidelines. “must be goin’ fer heavy hitters to blow past argentina’s blocks,” kita comments. osamu nods in agreement.

oikawa tooru is argentina’s starting setter. the whistle blows, and the match begins.

c’mon, guys. i know ya’ll can do it.

the first set doesn’t start off well. japan falls behind in the first half, falling short to argentina’s clean sets and spikes. hakuba is rotated to the back, and suna steps on, hands in front of him. he gets a hand on the spike, and sakusa receives it. atsumu sends it down the middle, suna jumping and rotating his torso to get around the block. japan gets the point.

his customers cheer. osamu hides a small fist pump under the counter. he shares a smile with kita. the commentators are just as excited as he is. “what an unbelievable spike from middle blocker suna rintarou! he’s known for his flexibility and game sense. will this give japan the push they need to get ahead?”

and he does. japan matches and overtakes argentina. kita claps at atsumu’s clean set to ushijima, who slams it down in the opposite court. the team huddles for a cheer and then take their positions. suna is back at the net, hands in front. his eyes widen at the camera pointed at him, and he rotates his fingers to form a heart, mouthing a message. he turns away at the whistle, but that’s enough for the world to see and wonder exactly what he said.

only osamu knows those words by heart.

japan takes the first and second set, but argentina comes back for the third. however, japan takes the fourth, after switching in hinata, and they cheer in celebration. argentina looks devastated, oikawa most of all, and osamu doesn’t miss how japan’s athletic trainer, iwaizumi, pats his arm off-court. he’s sure there’ll be more gestures once the cameras are turned away.

the customers begin to call for their bills and shuffle out. osamu gathers their dishes, kita helping despite osamu's protests, and it isn’t long before they’re the wiping tables clean. they listen to the post-game interview with the players, starting with aran, the captain, and then atsumu. finally, they talk to suna.

“you did an interesting gesture in the middle of the first set. would you like to explain what it means?”

osamu turns to watch. suna has a towel around his neck, hair unruly after the match. his voice doesn’t waver when he replies, “there’s a certain someone that i know is watching, and i wanted to let him know that i appreciate his support and love him.”

“is that related to what you said to the camera? fans are dying to know what you said, by the way.”

“yes, but that’s between me and him.” suna winks, turning slightly to face the camera again. “and if he’s watching – i know he is, by the way – i want him to know that i couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

the broadcast ends. osamu smiles to himself, adding his rag with the others. he’ll lock up, head home, and text the team his congratulations. atsumu will probably call him in the middle of the night, again, to put him on video as they celebrate. osamu will lose sleep, again, but it’s worth it, seeing his brother happy, seeing his best friend glowing, and of course, his boyfriend living his best dream.

watch me, 'samu.

osamu will never take his eyes off him.

---

inspired by this fanart of suna's gesture and osamu's reaction! <3

[mariisaaaaa]

He’s not much of an artist, but Tooru thinks he likes attaching meaning to colors.

Gold, at the end of the day is what he strives for the most, but that’s not to say that it’s the only color he’s felt strongly about. Silver or bronze sounds nice here and there sometimes. They’ll be proof of all his toiling and his hardwork, that he’s grown and his best is not the limit, that the gold at the end was hard-won. 

Red is a striking color as well. It is the color of his country, of his side of the court. One day someday, Tooru will be out of Sendai, and he’ll be standing on the world stage. No matter if he has to set to Ushiwaka of all people. His sets will be seen in the brightest spotlight. Eventually, when that gold is hung against his neck, Tooru thinks, it’ll be against the red on my back. 

(He doesn’t know yet how red would be the farthest thing from his reach. He doesn’t know yet.)

And of course, all the blues stained over everything he holds close to his heart. The shades of ocean blue of the Miyagi shoreline that would wash over their feet like teasing tickles. Their early morning walks for volleyball practice, when the clouds splotch white over the blue canvas of the sky, clear and bright greeting them a great day. The navy blues of Tooru’s favourite sweater, the one that actually belongs to Iwa-chan, soft and warm and calms down his mind, warms his fingers, soothes his bones. The mixtures of green and blue of the Aoba Johsai uniforms, calming and grounding Tooru to what he knows is home. And when he sees the same greenish-blues painted over his team’s back, the very same team that has raised him into what he is today, the same people that Tooru raised in return, Tooru thinks this is my pride. 

(Blue would eventually be the backdrop to all his glory. Tooru doesn’t know this yet, but when he knows, he won’t be surprised. His blood, after all, has been stained blue for all his life.) 

[touchlikethesun]

ik we never know the outcome of the 2020 olympic game (bc themes or whatever) but it is really important to me that argentina (oikawa) beat japan (everyone else). like for me to be able to sleep at night i need that to be the case. idrc who wins typically, but i need oikawa to finally win okay i just do.

[chiikinwing]

when your boyfriend's an overgrown puppy

[gothsuguru]

rereading haikyuu!! i forgot how much i wanted to marry kuroo + iwaizumi + ushijima + akaashi + coach ukai

[haikyuu-brain-rot]

The way I INHALED this fic in a single fucking read is fucking gold.

It's pure gold, all round chef kisses. God the way my iwaoi and sakuatsu heart just sang is fucking poetic.

[iwaoiness]

Sweet silence

Oikawa Tooru (actually, Iwaizumi Tooru for the past eight years) likes to share the silence with Hajime, never feeling the awkward need to bring up a topic of conversation with him to fill the void.

Sometimes, those silences are accompanied by the sizzle of vegetables in the pan and the tap tap of the knife against the chopping board when Iwa-chan cooks and Oikawa helps.

Sometimes, by the soft murmur of the water from the sprinkler as Oikawa waters the dozens of plants in his garden and the purring of Tina-chan, his spoiled siamese cat, from Iwaizumi's stomach where she likes to lie when he is reclining in the bamboo garden chair.

Sometimes, by Iwaizumi's typing on the keys of his laptop, planning warm-up sessions for his players while Oikawa is beside him totally engrossed in the new issue of the Shonen Jump.

Sometimes, by the soft music playing through the small speaker while Iwaizumi deep cleans the kitchen and Oikawa is in charge of the bathroom.

Sometimes, by the thump of the volleyball against their forearms as they simply throwing passes to each other in the garden.

Sometimes, by Oikawa's humming, nestled between Iwaizumi's legs in the bathtub, melting against Iwaizumi's broad chest as he slowly slides his fingertips down his arms and leaves a trail of soft kisses down the length of his neck.

And sometimes it is like now, when the silence is accompanied by the whisper of the TV playing Brazil vs Poland in the VNL quarter-finals while Oikawa is stretched out on the chaise longue, with Hajime lying on his back next to him, his head on Tooru's lap.

Is the second set, the score stands at 18-22 with Brazil in the lead. Tooru wears a nearly proud smile when cameras capture Hinata's flawless reception, but it quickly transforms into a grimace as Ushijima appears overcoming a triple block with overwhelming force. Despite their good relationship (well, cordial relationship), Tooru still grumbles a bit, as he's the first to retire, and the stubborn Ushijima, at his forty-three years old too, shows no sign of retiring.

However, his discomfort is short-lived when he feels a gentle movement in his lap and immediately looks down; his lips curving into a tender smile when sees Hajime's face deep in slumber, his head now slightly cocked to one side.

He arrived just over an hour ago from the five-day training camp with his sub-19 boys, hugged Tooru for fifteen minutes straight, showered his face with kisses, delighted in his laughter and his Hajime, it tickles!, showered and then collapsed on the sofa, using his husband's firm legs as a pillow. It took him barely five minutes to fall completely asleep.

And Hajime is fucking cute even when he sleeps. His slightly damp, dishevelled hair falling over his completely smooth forehead (though he retains the shadows of faint wrinkles), his thick eyebrows relaxed, his still eyelids with the marks of age at the corners, his thick lips slightly open. It's so peaceful, so calm, so affable.

Tooru's hand gently caresses one of his cheeks, feeling it warm against his fingers, and his smile sweetens more. Forty-three years with their lives intertwined in a bulletproof friendship, twenty-two years of a courtship that spanned oceans and continents, eight years in a marriage where their love is still solid, rooted deep in their souls to stay forever.

On the television, the commentators chatter again in the prelude to the third set as the players return to the playing area. Tooru, however, does not look up, now fiddling with Hajime's hair.

Tooru likes to share the silence with Iwa-chan because with him the silences are nice, they are comfortable, they are quiet.

They are all he needs.