#pining iwa

[chaoticallyfragmentary]

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

This is a bit of childhood friends to lovers, lots of pining and just Kuroo being a dork and Kenma, a sneaky little shit. Includes some fluff and initial hurt to comfort. 

You freeze, teetering between steps when Tetsu—Kuroo accosts you at your door. You are tired, a bone deep exhaustion clinging to your bones, a little aching and caught off guard by his presence. He sniffles, nose pink from the biting cold or from his tears, the quiet ones that he’s crying.

You withhold a sigh, a scream for help because it is Kuroo, the boy who put band aids on your knees and held your hand through the first day of school, because snow clings to his hair, a snowstorm incoming and he is here, at your doorstep with tear tracks on his cheeks and fury in his eyes, earbuds dangling uselessly from the ipod, where you are sure, he was listening to the playlist you made for him, holding up a letter in your writing, long since opened. 

Shit, you thought you’d be gone by then.

You poured so much of yourself onto those pages, long muffled secrets and wistful sighs, long harbored feelings, a final concession before trying to forget, leaving for good.

“Hi love,” he says and you are ten again, a bit broken and battered, moving halfway across the world with your grandparents, an outstretched hand of a boy your age, both of you crying as he chased your bullies away, lips wobbling as he tries so hard to be brave.

“Kuroo?” you clear your throat, suppressing an urge to flee, mouth twisting to a sad shape.

 “Does this mean what I think it means?” he asks, pleads really.

You are seventeen again, listening to Kuroo laugh, a wonky little thing, a bit like a dying goat but you would bottle it up if you could, but then your eyes land on the girl on Kuroo’s arm and something in your chest aches.

“What do you think it means?” you ask instead, a watery laugh bubbling from your throat. 

He smiles, a tiny little thing, reminded of nights like these, when neither of you could sleep, questions were answered with more questions, sneaking into each other’s bedrooms, the pebbles thrown at windows, the chemistry study sessions, the lazy cuddle nights with Kenma, the midnight train rides and the warmth of terrible decisions.

He is fifteen again, realizing that his best friend had gotten pretty. Sixteen, realizing that he wanted to kiss the said best friend, wanting to throw himself off the tallest building he could find. It was as if he’d never had a crush before, Kenma snickering under his breath about how he was so very fucked.

“It’s not my job to say it chibi,” he says and he is twenty two again, eyes looking for you at the party.

“Kuroo!” your yell pierces the air, hands perched on your hips in the most accusatory kind of way as you stare Kuroo down.

“I’ve just been busy chibi, organizer of the party and all that”

“You haven’t looked at me, Kuroo”

Oh, but he has, and you look so beautiful, black gown that hugged all your curves and revealed unknown stretches of skin and he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into it. You looked like his, but on Iwaizumi’s arm and fuck it all if he didn’t feel like his heart was a desiccated, dying thing performing the actions of something living.

(Met abroad, studied at the same university, blah blah, bleh. Anyone who tells you he’s been giving Iwaizumi the stink eye throughout the party is nothing but a filthy liar) 

“Do you want to dance chibi?” he asks, one tiny want seeping out from the aching places inside his chest.

Your head tilts a fraction, eyes teetering between cautious hope and blinding joy. You let yourself take his hand and learn, for the span of a single evening, what holding Kuroo Tetsurou in your arms felt like.

You wilt, what option did you have but honesty?

 “I-I-I,” new tears spring from your eyes at your inability to articulate even the barest of words but you plough through. “I love you— I-I d-don’t know since when, o-or for h-how l-l-long. I’ve done a piss poor job of n-not falling for my best friend b-but it’s always been you, me and you, you and me. W-We have always been an ‘us.’ S-Sorry” the confession slips out of your mouth before you can yank it back and shove it down your throat.

“I am so fucking furious, chibi”

He’s breathing heavily, emotion pouring out from him and your throat feels like it might swell shut.

“I’m so sorry but please don’t cry.” You hear the strain in your voice, self control rapidly dwindling as you barely resist the incessant throb behind your ribs, to just reach out and hold him close, wrap him in a blanket burrito, get him some hot chocolate and beat up anyone who dared to make him cry.

“I’d stop if I could,” he snaps, wiping another stray tear, furious at himself for crying.

“You mean to tell me,” he takes in a measured breath, like a man on the verge of starvation, fighting every impulse to reach for a feast in front of him.

“You mean to tell me that all this time the two of us wasted on pining away after each another, we could’ve been making out?” he shouts.

You bluescreen, a blink and a breath.

Once your brain processes the words, you release the deluge, laughter spilling over as your resistance buckles, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth after so many years of fantasizing the same.

When Kenma takes all the money from the bet your friends seem to have made, Kuroo calling him scheming filthy liar, you laugh coasting over Kuroo’s outraged noises about how could Kenma bet against him, how he’d known you would confess first… Kenma winking at you, mouthing fucking finally, as happiness tints your vision golden.

[tetzoro]

TRICK OR TREAT !

IWAIZUMI VS MEGUMI !

who is winning your affection tonight, @the-tenth-shadow ?

[seiwas]

IRIS I AM LITERALLYABSJXNID XOMF 😭😭😭😭 i love him . thank u . i love him . i loooooooooove him . i ran out of tags iris but him asking for ur socials if numbery is uncomfy? the cherry on top he is literally the dream . the respectful boy to ever . and i need him . want him . NEOOOOOOOOOOOWWW

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

summary: a creep walks up to the shake stand window. your favorite customer scares him off. (college au!iwaizumi x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: college!au iwaizumi, creepy dude but he gets scared off don't worry, buff iwa gets nervous around you

note: so there's a protein shake stand like right outside my school's gym and that's where the inspiration for this little brain fart came from. also this is wholeheartedly dedicated to @shotorus my favorite iwa simp. i really hope you like this, it's my first time writing for your man but it most definitely will not be the last :D

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <3

You didn’t anticipate finding a gym crush outside of the student rec center. Yet, there he was, every day at 5:00 passing the stand and every day at 6:30 ordering his usual, strawberries and bananas with chocolate protein powder. It’s a wonder how strictly he stuck to his schedule and you made it a point to have his order queued up in the system by the time he got to the window. To your detriment, it seemed that your infatuation had become obvious enough to your usually-oblivious coworkers. 

“At this point, I think you took this job just to ogle him,” one of your friends points out as she runs a colander of fruit under the faucet. You give her a lighthearted glare and she flicks a few water droplets at you. “I’d guess you like seeing him more than the tips that other guys put in the jar. You really do so much for this company,” she says patronizingly and you roll your eyes. She had a point; you tended not to notice the phone numbers written on dirty napkins or social media handles hastily drawn on dollar bills. None of them interested you. None of them, except for the dude with a body like a Greek hero that made you want to get kidnapped by some mythological being. 

“I just think he has a nice physique; is that such a bad thing?” She shoots you a skeptical look and you turn away sheepishly to check the clock. Thirty seconds to 6:30. “He should be here in a little bit,” you say quietly to yourself, hoping she doesn’t hear. It’s a nice sentiment, but ultimately futile. 

“You’re counting down the seconds? Man, you’re worse than I thought.” She pats your shoulder sympathetically as she passes behind you and you lean your hands on the register counter. 

“As if you’ve never had a gym crush before,” you fire back. 

“You’re supposed to actually be inside the gym to have a gym crush,” she reminds you and you groan. “Why don’t you just switch your shift so you can see him while you workout?”

“I tutor before this, remember? Plus, I need to be able to charm the evening regulars so I can keep paying rent,” you admit. She nods in understanding and a glance at the clock shows ten seconds until 6:30. Your other usuals had come and gone for the day: the guy in the blue tank top that only seemed to work his forearms and biceps, the girl with the silly socks that had the most muscular calves you’d ever seen, the two frat bros with their backwards caps and arrogant voices. It hits 6:30, however, and your favorite regular isn’t behind the glass. He isn’t anywhere around, you realize. You can’t help the frown that draws the corner of your mouth down and, when you look to your coworker for support, she merely shrugs before grabbing a tub of powder from the top shelf. “It’s odd that he isn’t here yet.”

“Only you would think that,” she teases and you refocus on pulling up his usual order on the payment screen. “Maybe he got sick. There’s that frat flu going around right now.”

“Why would he be in a frat, though? And also, he’s definitely the type to wipe the hell out of every machine he uses.”

“If he uses machines; personally, he strikes me as a free weights-only kind of guy.” Before you can reply, a knock on the glass startles you back into customer-service mode. The man in front of you looked relatively normal, but the way his eyes looked you up and down several times made your stomach queasy. It wasn’t the first time creeps had checked you out through the window, but maybe you were feeling a little extra vulnerable waiting around for a regular who didn’t even know your name. Avoiding the man’s intrusive gaze, you shakily pull up his order, swipe his card for payment, and let him know that his shake would be ready soon. 

“I have a question,” he says slowly before you can run and hide in the back. “What time are you out of here?”

“I’m not done for a while,” you state vaguely, praying that he wouldn’t ask about the remaining two and a half hours of your shift. “I work until closing.”

“I can come back and get you when you close.” His voice makes your skin crawl and his eyes feel like knives on your body.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me take you out to dinner. A nice looking person like you shouldn’t be alone at night.” Your heart drops into your stomach and your feet remain rooted to the floor, terrified in place. Was he gonna try to do something after you were off?

“Look, I’m not interested in any–”

“Hey, man. Are you done ordering yet? You’re holding up the line,” intrudes a voice that feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders. Somewhere between his usual order time and the creep asking you out, your favorite little crush came to stand in line to pay. His shoulders seemed extra broad today and the muscle of his biceps flexed under his compression shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest, staring daggers down at the guy who was freaking you out. He’d never looked so handsome, all sharp jawline and flexed muscles and piercing eyes. The creep recoils and scurries away, allowing you to take a deep breath that helps relieve some of the tension in your forehead. By pure muscle memory and running on adrenaline, your fingers swipe over the tablet and pull up his usual order before he can even say hello. 

“Strawberry and banana with chocolate protein powder, right?”

“Yeah, that…that’s mine,” he says, slightly taken aback by the lingering expression of panic on your face. While he eyes you warily, you swipe his card and hand him his receipt, suddenly desperate to just disappear into the back for the rest of your shift. “Hey, are you okay?”

“What? No, yeah. I’m fine, totally fine,” you lie and give him a weak smile. His eyebrows furrow slightly and you can feel him try to analyze you, but not in the dehumanizing way as your previous customer. His eyes searched your expression worriedly and you caught him biting skin from his lip in concern. “It’s just that the guy before you was being a little weird.” Calling him “weird” was an understatement, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him more than you already have. “I’m fine, really.” He watches you for a moment more and then nods, murmuring a thank you under his breath and finding a spot to wait for his shake. 

“This fell on the floor by the trash can,” he says plainly when he walks up to the pickup window after you call out his drink. The creepy guy hadn’t left the area yet, so your fight or flight instincts were still going haywire. Your gym crush, however, momentarily takes your attention by subtly sliding a dirty piece of paper across the counter to you as he picks up his cup with the other hand. “Thanks; I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before you can blink, he’s gone, leaving you with a cryptic folded message that makes your head spin. You sputter out an awkward farewell and hastily unfold the piece of paper. 

I’ll be studying in the computer lab until the stand closes. If he’s still bothering you, come find me and I’ll walk you to your car or your dorm or wherever. -Iwaizumi Hajime 

A sturdy rectangle of plastic falls from the paper and you stare at it in disbelief. It was an ID card for the university’s after-hours patrol division with his picture, full name, and student number printed on it. Iwaizumi, you echo mentally, you’re too good to be true. And, true to his promise, he’s a respectful distance away and stands with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants at 9:00 when you lock up the shake stand. You’d lost sight of the creep an hour after Iwaizumi picked up his drink, but the paranoia didn’t leave your body and you’re only able to relax when he approaches you. 

“This is yours,” you say, handing him his ID card with a small smile. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you had to deal with him,” he replies regretfully, uncomfortably adjusting his water bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. “None of the guys at the gym like him. He’s always hitting on girls and giving them weird looks.” 

“Looks like he was forced to look outside the gym, then,” you laugh lightly, feeling the tension release from your shoulders as you walk next to Iwaizumi in the direction of the parking lot. “Did your drink still taste okay? Or did my nervousness make it taste funny?” When he chuckles, it sounds like sunshine. 

“It was just as tasty as it always is, thank you. You’ve really figured out how to make me the perfect drink every time.”

“Anything for my favorite customer,” you say without hesitation and your face feels like it’s been lit on fire. To your surprise, however, it seemed that Iwaizumi was just as flustered by your words. His eyes widen and his pretty mouth gapes a little bit, blinking rapidly to fix the short circuit in his brain. “I just hope he doesn’t come around here again. He makes my stomach churn.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he forces out and he’s silent for a while until your car is in sight. “Hey, sorry if this is super off-base, but do you wanna workout with me sometime? I can change the time I go but, if it means you don’t feel scared by that guy anymore, I’ll gladly rearrange my schedule.” 

“You want me to workout with you?”

“I’d like to meet you for lunch sometime, too, but I figured I’d start with baby steps,” he admits, running a hand nervously through his hair while you fish your keys from your bag. “If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine–”

“No, no, I’d love to,” you reassure him and he looks visibly relieved. “I’ll change up my shift so you can still go around the same time you usually do, and I can just meet you outside. I’ve been needing a new spotter since mine picked up extra shifts in the library.” 

“Great, yeah, awesome,” he says, a little dumbfounded by how eagerly you would give him a chance. If he was being honest, he’d wanted to ask you your name for months since you memorized his order, but he didn’t want to come off as pushy and ruin his chance with you. “Do you, uh, mind if I give you my number? Or I can give you a social media handle too if you’re not comfortable sharing your number.” God, he’s so good. He is so, so good. “Can you let me know you get home safe?”

“I will,” you promise. “Thank you for everything, Iwaizumi.”

“You can call me Hajime, if you want,” he offers softly and the fondness in his voice makes your heart flip. “Iwaizumi is fine too. Anything is fine.” 

“Right,” you smile. “Well, goodnight, Hajime. Get home safe.”

“You too. Talk soon, okay?”

“I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[cottonlemonade]

large lime lemonade with a slice of starfruit for issei. reciprocated pining. getaway trip of team. just sexual tension😁🙏🏼 i thought so hard about this HSJDHWHDHWHH

Heatwave

word count: 1324 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: Issei x chubby manager!Reader

genre: smut

warnings: mdni, nsfw

request: spicy heatwave with pining Issei, as manager, getaway trip with the team, sexual tension

Issei huffed in annoyance as he, not too gently, pulled the door close behind him.

At least out here in the living room it was pretty quiet. He hugged his pillow tighter to his chest and moved slowly through the dark room, eventually flopping down on the lumpy couch - what Kunimi lacked in conversational skills he surely made up for in snoring.

Issei groaned as he tried to get comfortable. It was so hot that even the air seemed too lazy to move. The large windows in the airbnb were all open, trying to entice a non-existing breeze to wander right in. Most of the boys had collectively decided to only sleep in boxers in this heat and he was no exception. If he were at home he would have slept naked in the bathtub but in a harrowing game of rock paper scissors he had lost that privilege to Iwa.

How their coach thought it was a smart idea to drive further into the countryside instead of heading for the sea was a mystery to him. Cicadas buzzed distantly in the night and since he wouldn‘t be able to sleep anyway until it cooled down, he decided to simply stare at the ceiling but that got boring fairly quickly. His eyes wandered through the dark and fell onto the door next to the kitchen. He wondered if you were asleep. On the long drive he had gotten extremely lucky when he was assigned the seat next to you - the coach thought that was safer than putting him next to Makki and they might get up to something. You as the manager could at least keep an eye on him, according to the coach. But in the end it was Issei who only stared at you. He sat by the window and somewhere along the halfway mark he had felt your head on his shoulder as you fell asleep. Not wanting to be obvious he focused on your reflection in the window and ignored the unbearable heat from the close contact. Your plush thighs spilled on the seat and pressed against his and he was certain this was what heaven felt like. He made sure not to shift too much and when the sun started to throw harsh glares on your face he tried to find an inconspicuous way to raise his arm to shield your eyes. Every so often he became braver and turned to look at you directly, his much taller statue allowing him to look down at you and (un)fortunately also your shirt. Were all your bras this pretty or did you wear this for a special occasion? He swallowed hard as he watched a drop of sweat trickle down from your temple, over your neck and disappear between your breasts. Unconsciously he licked his lips and swallowed again. His breathing became a little shallower and upon feeling a very familiar pull in his lower abdomen he averted his eyes with much determination and went back to gazing at your (more innocent) reflection.

Lying on the couch in the pitch darkness, Issei covered his eyes with his arm, thinking back to the feeling of your skin, hot and sweaty against his.

You didn‘t do well with heat. Your blanket lay crumpled at the foot of the bed, having been kicked off a long time ago. The other manager had already fallen asleep and was mumbling something. Tapping on your phone you checked the time. It was 1 in the morning. You sighed. Before checking into the housing you all had gone grocery shopping and stocked up on snacks, ice creams, meat and fruit for the long weekend ahead. Technically, they were all carefully calculated and rationed, but it wouldn‘t hurt if you had your designated popsicle tonight instead of tomorrow, right? And if all else failed you would just head to the convenience store to grab another one. You felt your tank top cling to your skin when you got out of bed and shuffled into the slippers. You sighed when the cool air of the freezer gave you a short burst of relief and picked out your favorite. Munching happily, you savored the cold on your tongue and wanted to head back to your room when you heard a noise. It sounded like… breathing. Panting. But the guys had only joked when they said the house was haunted, didn‘t they?

You were definitely not a “final girl“, you thought. Why would go towards the weird sound!? Then you spotted Issei.

“Y/n.”

At first you thought he had heard you approach and was happy to see you, but the quiet panting and smallest whimpers didn’t fit.

You stood in the doorway between the hall and living room for a second or two. He was laying on the couch, as expected, his head leaned back into the pillow and his hand-

A shockwave went through your body. You couldn’t move.

“Just like that, sweet girl…”, he whispered, followed by some Japanese cursing you had never heard before.

You couldn’t stop staring. You should announce yourself or turn to leave him alone but…

The popsicle in your mouth felt different now, even though the size didn’t nearly match. So all that overheard locker room talk was true, you thought stupidly as you watched Issei run his hand up and down on his huge cock. He moaned your name again and you stared in awe when you saw him twitch in the faint moonlight.

The popsicle in your mouth threatened to drip onto your fingers so you slurped without thinking. Issei shot up at the noise and even in the near perfect darkness you could see his eyes widen.

“I’m so sorry!”, he spoke softly but urgently.

He fumbled with the waistband of his boxers but it was quite difficult to contain all of him.

“You can… I mean, could you… continue?”, you heard yourself say, the popsicle still pressed to your lips, your eyes never left his bulge.

Issei‘s breath hitched.

After a moment's thought he asked quietly, “Can you step a bit closer? Into the light?“. His hand already moved back to where it should be.

You shuffled forward a little into the patch of moonbeam and looked at him.

“Is it alright, if you stay there? Where I can see you.“

You nodded and then watched as he pushed his boxers down again, freeing his cock a second time. You were curious if you could fit your pudgy fingers even around his length at all.

“You were thinking about me?“, you asked softly when he began to stroke himself again.

He nodded.

“You think I’m pretty?“, you mumbled into your popsicle.

“Nngh, gorgeous.“, he panted.

“What were you thinking about me?“, you asked almost too innocently to sound genuinely curious.

“What it would feel like to touch you.“, he pressed out between labored breaths, “What it would taste like if I kissed you.“

His hand twisted around his glistening head and he had to suppress a loud moan when you slurped up new dribblings from your popsicle.

“Is that all?“, you continued, meeting his eyes again.

“What you would look like underneath me…“, he admitted quietly, “Or bent over in the showers.“

You rubbed your thick thighs together. Of course he noticed. His movements became faster.

“What you would sound like if … I were inside you.“

“What would you do if you were inside me?“, you said, your voice almost too quiet for him to hear over the sound of his hand.

“I‘d fill you up, if you‘d let me.“, he breathed.

“Then cum for me.“, you whispered and thick spurts of white painted his toned chest and stomach.

“Who is talking out here?“ One of the bedroom doors opened and Oikawa poked his head out, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He only caught a glimpse of the girls‘ door closing and pretended to believe his friend‘s fake snores.

a/n: since I know spicy heatwave with Issei was on your mind for weeeeeeks, I just had to get to it first. I hope this was sort of what you hoped for 🌟

for requests see here

[sticky-sugar]

ask you something. (iwaizumi hajime x reader) chapter two

>> you try to distance yourself from him for the sake of your friendship, leaving him extremely confused <<

tags/cw: idk if this counts as miscommunication???, IDIOTS in love, mutual pining gone wrong

chapter one || masterlist || chapter three

it takes all of twelve seconds in america to realize you still have feelings for iwaizumi hajime. 

you’d realized it before, in the year that he was gone. you’d realized it in the spaces that used to be his, now empty beside you. in the way you’d scramble for your phone in the middle of the night, hearing him call on his way to class. in the way seijoh hadn’t felt the same, hollow without him and oikawa. 

mattsun and makki had still been around for that year, slacking off at the convenience store down the road in between makki’s shifts and mattsun’s clinic hours. chatting your ear off whenever you’d come to say hi and looking at you knowingly when you’d mention iwa, because the man had kept up with all his friends since leaving, but mostly you. 

you’d realized that you’d fallen for your best friend, and you’d done your damn best in the months leading to your own departure to get over it. you’d done your best to get past him, because two kisses and a handful of moments couldn’t possibly be enough to risk a friendship. 

you should have realized it when you’d asked him to kiss you the first time, because, even that night, you could feel that you were asking for a different reason. it hadn’t been out of curiosity, although mattsun’s flirty remark had certainly triggered it. you weren’t just curious about kissing — you were curious about kissing him. 

iwaizumi hajime. 

he’d been sweet and careful and everything you love about him — everything that had ever made you trust him enough to ask all the things you knew you shouldn’t. because iwa would never let you down, never judge you or make you feel smaller than him for not knowing something. 

you fell for him because those things weren’t guaranteed of other boys, but they were guaranteed of him. iwa was guaranteed. 

but you had been able to recognize, on your own and over many long phone calls with oikawa, that it would be risky having feelings for iwa. that confessing to him may or may not work (oikawa was frustratingly elusive about this point), but that losing him would never be worth the confession at all. 

so you’d pushed it down. you’d pushed the feelings away, forcing yourself to think about him less. to care a little less when he wasn’t able to call because of exams, to get a little less excited when he could. to date other boys and ignore when their kisses never felt right. 

you thought you’d gotten it right. when you told iwa about your college acceptances and heard the overjoyed ‘fuck yes!’ he’d let out when you revealed you’d be joining him after all, you thought you’d gotten over him properly. because your heart hadn’t fluttered and your breath hadn’t gotten caught the way it used to. you’d just been happy, happy to have a friend like iwaizumi hajime. 

you realize now, heart in your throat and breath sucked out of your lungs as you stare out the window of airport terminal at him, that you’d been lying to yourself. 

he hasn’t seen you yet, typing away at his phone while he leans on the passenger’s side door of his car. he scowls at something, and your heart skips, because even that’s attractive. you stand just inside the automatic doors that lead out to the road, the hot california air smacking you in the face every time someone walks out to the street. 

he looks up whenever the door opens, and your heart lurches when his eyes come close to where you’re hiding. but he always misses, just dropping his gaze back to his phone when he realizes it’s not you. you watch his brows crease deeper and deeper with every minute that passes without your appearance, and he eventually swipes out of whatever he’s doing and jabs aggressively into a different app on his screen. 

you realize he’s calling when he lifts the phone to his ear. your phone vibrates angrily in your hand, and you have to steel yourself to answer it, your eyes on him when you pick up the call. 

“hello?” 

“hey.” his voice is rough and deep, and your body erupts in goosebumps, evidence that he’s still under your skin. “did you make it out okay?” 

“yeah,” you breathe. “sorry. i’m here.” 

his eyes lift, scanning the sidewalk quickly. “where?” 

“just… here,” you say, feeling safe in the corner where you can see him, but he can’t see you. “you look different, haji.” 

he straightens now, searching more earnestly. his mouth spreads in a bemused grin, and he humors you. “yeah? different how?” 

a shiver runs down your spine when he talks to you like that — teasing, but not mocking. 

“older.”

“i am older.”

“taller.”

“pretty sure i’m the same height.” 

“californian.”

he laughs, sharp and short and just long enough to show you that playful crinkle in his eyes. your heart betrays you again. 

“i doubt that, y/n.” 

his gaze passes over you now, and then he realizes it’s you, his double-take visible from here. he stares at you through the glass, eyes scanning all of you and then finding yours. you’re both silent for a moment, long enough for someone to pass you on the way out. the glass doors slide open — there’s nothing to protect you from him now. 

“you look different, too.” 

you swallow hard, watching him lean back against the car again, one ankle crossing over the other while he examines you. 

“different how?” 

“older.” 

“i am older.” 

“‘s not what i meant.” 

you wonder if he can see the sharp inhale you take in response. 

not so innocent, is what he’d meant. 

if he sees it, he doesn’t say anything about it. “parking’s by the hour, just so you know.” 

you straighten. “right. sorry.” 

he just smiles, more to himself than to you. “don’t be so scared,” he says, hearing everything that your ‘sorry’ had been about. “it’s just me.” 

that doesn’t help, so you don’t respond. you just end the call and stuff your phone away, hauling your suitcases out of the airport and across the street to the parking lot. 

when he hugs you, it’s not one of the friendly ones you’d prepared yourself for. 

he wraps both arms around your waist and bends to your height, dragging your chest flush to his. you’re left with your arms hanging in shock around his neck. 

“hi,” he says quietly in your ear, pressing one of his large hands against your spine to keep you close. his voice does more to your nerves in person than it did on the phone. 

“hi,” you whisper back. you don’t trust your own voice not to crack. 

you hadn’t gotten over iwaizumi hajime at all. 

—

hajime thinks you might be avoiding him. 

he’d noticed it the day you’d arrived — that you wouldn’t meet his eyes. you’d stared out the window while he’d driven you to your dorm, and you’d kept your eyes on your suitcases while he’d helped you unpack. and when he’d invited you to his apartment for dinner, you’d just mumbled that you wanted to wait – to meet your new roommate. 

he’d left you to it, trying not to show how disappointed he’d been. 

he’d missed you. he’d known that already, but seeing you standing there at the airport — the lost look in your face, your hoodie pulled all the way up over your head despite the summer weather — had kickstarted his heart. he’d missed you a lot. 

he’d spent the year before trying not to think about you. to call you a normal amount and text you a normal amount and not think about the boys you could be seeing or the things you might be doing. those things were none of his business. 

but he’d thought about them regardless, and he’d realized over the year that maybe he thought about you too much and in ways he shouldn’t. 

he’d reacted to the revelation poorly. he’d slept around, throwing all his firsts to the wind without care because they didn’t matter if they weren’t with you. it had been unhealthy, the amount of partying he’d done, the number of girls he’d hooked up with. 

he’d excused it as needing to get you out of his head, out of his system. he’d slept with girls that had looked nothing like you, girls who taught him things he’d never thought to learn. but there had always been a little piece of him that would think of you even then, your face flashing in his mind even when he was with another girl. 

there had been a larger piece, appearing frequently and leaving him feeling terrible without fail, that had known he was learning these things with the hope that you’d ask him to teach them to you. 

and he’s unable now to avoid acknowledging that it had all been in vain — all the unhealthy attempts to get over you. because the moment you’d appeared in his life again, all the partying and the sleeping around had stopped. 

in the three weeks that follow your arrival to california, hajime’s urge to drink and go out and bring girls home reduces to nothing. he just follows you around, the same way you used to follow him. 

he picks you up from your dorm every morning that first week, walking you to class and then showing you a new place on campus that he likes to frequent. this coffee shop has good espresso, but that shop is cheaper and still good for a quick stop. this library is closest to your dorm, but that one is quieter and open later. always go to this convenience store and never that one — they won’t have the snacks you like.

you absorb the information gratefully, smiling bright and giggling at his shitty jokes. you call him ‘haji’ with that child-like lilt you’d always had, and you give him your schedule for the next day when he asks for it every night. he feels that familiar tug of pleasure when he realizes he’s helping you, just like he always has. that he’s taken up his old post again as the boy you come to when you need help. it’s his favorite place to be. he’d missed it. 

but still, those moments only last a few hours each day. you still find awkward ways to decline his invitations for dinner or coffee. you mention your new dorm friends when you thank him for showing you things, saying you can’t wait to show them, too. you mention events that those friends want to go to — parties, bars, places he knows all too well — but there’s an underlying implication that he’s not invited. 

so, yes. hajime thinks you’re avoiding him. but he lets you, because he has no idea what else to do. you’ve never done this before, actively chosen the company of other people over his. 

at the end of the second week, he tries something dangerous. 

“i heard that you dated — last year.” 

he says it in the awkward lull he’s starting to realize comes toward the end of a meetup with you, when you’re trying to figure out how to make your escape. the two of you are at a coffee shop — you seem to be getting a lot done, but hajime’s just spent two hours scrolling through already read emails and typing away at a blank word document. 

you look up at him now, eyes wide and fingers wrapped around your empty coffee cup. “what?” 

he almost loses his nerve. “last year,” he says roughly, and then he reels it in, unsure if he’s still too mean. you don’t seem to think so, still just looking at him in slight alarm. he doesn’t like that so much has changed. “oikawa told me. that you dated some guys.” 

“yeah,” you say, looking over your shoulder toward the door. an animal trapped, locating all the exits. “i did. three guys.” 

he has no interest in pretending to shame you for dating while he was gone. he can tell your guarded look is about that, but he has absolutely no room to judge. “was it okay?” he just asks, shifting in his seat. you’re tapping one nail on your cup nervously. the sound makes him feel like he’s on a ticking clock, close to exploding. “were they okay?”

“yeah, haji,” you say, glancing at the door again and then dropping your eyes to your laptop. “they were okay. always respectful, never kissed me on the first date.” 

hajime’s face burns with humiliation, the memory of kissing you on your doorstep tearing a guilty hole in his chest. “okay,” he manages. “good.” he runs his fingers through his hair, searching for anything to say that’ll keep you here with him. “and they didn’t-they never-” the tapping stops, but your eyes are wary, and he doesn’t know which is worse. “-tried anything? that you wanna talk about, maybe?” 

the world stops, the space between you screeching to a terrifying, silent halt. hajime watches you search his face, eyes wide and shocked, because you know exactly what he’s asking. he knows exactly what he’s asking — he just has no fucking clue why he’d asked. 

he doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. years later, he still doesn’t like feeling dumb around you. 

he wants you to need him, but he’s doing it all wrong. he wants you to ask him something, but he’s never been the one to bring it up first, to prompt you into it. he wants you to stay here, to cling to him like you used to. but he’s getting incredibly good at pushing you away. 

“no,” you whisper. “there’s nothing. they didn’t do anything.” and then you close your laptop. it sounds like a gunshot in his ears. “but, uhm, listen, i should go.” hajime turns his eyes away from you, disappointment seeping into his bones. “i told my friends i’d go to a party with them tonight…” 

he nods, staring out the window. he’d normally scramble to walk you to your dorm, but he doesn’t have it in him today. he wants to rot in a corner and not be seen by you. he feels stupid. 

“okay,” he says plainly. “have fun.” 

he doesn’t look away from the window until you’re gone.

—

you only manage three weeks into the school year without falling back into him. 

you’d done your very best to get past him, to get past these feelings that have started to break down every ounce of resolve you have. you start each day with a firm assertion in the bathroom mirror that you’ll resist him — that you’ll be strong enough to treat him like a friend, because that’s all he is. 

and then it goes out the window upon seeing him, every single time. 

every touch of his hand to your elbow, guiding you in a new direction. every press of his side against yours, the quad crowded with people. every brush of his mouth to the shell of your ear, explaining what he does and doesn’t like about the place he’s brought you to. 

you crave every single one, and then you bully yourself, angry with guilt and the feeling that you shouldn’t be so eager for the next sliver of attention from him.

when he asks in that coffee shop if there’s anything you want to talk about — if there’s anything you want to ask him, you realize — you know that you’ve lost this game. that you’re lost, hopeless against him. 

you give him some half-baked excuse about a party and run for your life, texting your roommate and begging her to find a frat party — any frat party — to take you to. you have one last weapon under your belt, one last-ditch effort to get olive green eyes and a rough voice out of your head. 

—

this guy looks nothing like iwaizumi hajime. he’s got blond hair and a lip ring, blue eyes and a baby-faced smile. he’s using it to disarm you, you can tell — he’s flashing that smile to make you think he’s innocent, but you can see how his eyes have roamed your body all night. he’s lying through his teeth, quite literally, using his sweet face to trick you into thinking he’s a nice boy. he’s nothing like iwa. 

he should be perfect. 

but when he backs you into a corner and pushes his lips against yours, it feels wrong. he’s wrong. when he attaches his mouth to your throat and starts marking you like he means it, it doesn’t feel good. it hurts a little, because he’s using his teeth, and you don’t like how it feels. 

iwa wouldn’t do it like that.

and when the blond starts getting a little pushy with his kisses, his lips messy and sloppy against yours, you feel that this isn’t how you want your night to go. 

you want to let this blond take you home, you really do. he’s pretty and bad for you. he doesn’t have olive green eyes or a rough voice. he grabs you like you mean nothing to him.

but god, you don’t want to be here anymore. not with the way he’s sliding his tongue against your bottom lip, expectant in a way you don’t want to fulfill. 

groaning, you push at his shoulders, putting distance between you. he furrows a brow at you, and you think you hear him say ‘you good?’ over the deep pulse of the frat house music. you give him a smile that you hope is apologetic, but it probably comes out as more of a grimace. 

“sorry,” you say. “i think i’m gonna head home.” 

when he lifts his brows and scoffs a little in annoyance, you really wish you would have been okay with him taking you home. he’s nothing like iwaizumi hajime. 

instead, you find yourself stumbling down the street at two in the morning, in the opposite direction from your dorm. you text your roommate, letting her know where you’re going. she just sends you kissy faces and asks you to stay there tonight, because there’s a guy she has her eyes on. 

you’re not sure he’ll be okay with you spending the night. not after the way you’ve been treating him. not with the hickey on your throat, warm and throbbing with the pain of bite marks.

but you show up at his door anyway, knocking quietly. there’s a part of you that hopes he’s asleep and won’t hear you. 

the door opens a minute later. 

iwa stares down at you, hair ruffled from sleep and a frown set deep in his face. he’s shirtless, sweats low on his hips and one finger scratching at the side of his neck. 

when he realizes it’s you, his eyes open properly. “y/n?” his voice is groggy, and your veins set themselves on fire.

“hi,” you say quietly. “can i come in?” 

he’s not looking you in the eye anymore. he’s got his gaze locked tight on the part of your neck that aches dully. when he looks at you again, it’s with an emotion you can’t place.

irritation, relief. hope and disappointment. back and forth, both swimming in his eyes and oscillating, the same way you’ve been feeling since you landed in america. 

he opens the door without another word, and you step into his studio apartment. 

“thank you,” you whisper, the outside world muted to nothing once he shuts you inside with him. just you and him, alone again for the first time in over a year. the last moment alone shared on the other side of your own front door, his mouth warm on yours. 

“are you drunk?” is all he says in response. 

“just tipsy,” you respond, the alcohol warming you but not doing much more than that anymore. he nods to the couch behind you and then moves to the little kitchen by the door. 

“sit. i’ll make you coffee.” 

you do as he says, comfortable in the reality where iwa tells you what to do and you follow it eagerly. because he’s always known best. 

“what happened?” he asks, head bent as he spoons coffee grounds into the machine. you stare at his back, eyes tracing the lines of his muscles as you try not to think about his bed only five feet away. the blankets are rustled there, and the space radiates heat, because he’s always run a little hot at night. 

“nothing. just didn’t have much fun.” 

you hear the beep of the machine being turned on, but he doesn’t turn to face you. 

“did he hurt you?” 

he doesn’t ask who it was or how far you’d gone, and you wonder if he’s not facing you because he doesn’t want you to know that he cares about those details, too. 

“no. i just didn’t have much fun.” and then you press your fists into your lap nervously, offering information that shouldn’t be shared between friends like you and him. “we just kissed. i didn’t let him do anything else.” 

you wonder if his shoulders actually relax at that, or if you’re imagining it in the dark of his kitchen. in the dark of his apartment, with just one dim lamp sitting on his nightstand. 

“so? what changed your mind?” 

there’s an edge in his voice, you can hear that much. he’s going to be rough with you, but it won’t feel that way. it hasn’t felt that way since you were kids, when the slightest hint of frustration would make you cry. now, the jagged edges of his voice feel like a sweet drag of his lips across your skin, because you know that’s as far as his irritation will ever go. 

he’s never been rough with you, not really. and you wonder, not for the first time, if you would mind that so much. being roughed up by the one man who’d never hurt you. 

you swallow, deciding on brutal honesty. honesty, like the way things used to be. “he tried to put his tongue in my mouth.” 

iwa snorts, shaking his head as he grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “well, yeah, y/n. it was a party — he was looking to make out or hook up. that’s what happens.” 

you wonder how he knows that. how many parties he’s been to. how many times ‘that’s what happens’ has been true of him. “have you ever done that?” 

he pours the coffee. you can see that he’s tense again, and the sharp blade of his voice confirms what you want to know. “which one? make out or hook up?” 

“either.”

“yeah.” 

“which one?”

“both.” 

you breathe out through your nose, trying not to make it audible. it doesn’t upset you that he’s had his firsts — all of them, you’re assuming now — in his year away from you. it doesn’t bother you that he knows things, that he’d learned things from other girls. you’d dated, too. even if it hadn’t been nearly the same as what he’s saying to you, you’d still dated. 

because you and iwaizumi hajime are just friends. 

“oh. okay.” 

your voice is bitter. you can hear it, and you know he can, too. 

he doesn’t address it. 

“you didn’t like that he tried to put his tongue in your mouth?”

you shake your head, watching him bring the two cups over to the table by the couch. you take one, thanking him softly. “he was too rough about it.” 

iwa flicks his gaze to your throat again. “yeah, i can see that.” he lifts his mug to his lips and looks away. 

“no one’s ever done that before,” you say. you’d resolved yourself not to tell him the specifics of your dating history, because you’d been trying to separate your friendship with him from the feelings that burn guilt into every cell in your body. 

but you tell him this, anyway. you can’t remember your resolve anymore, not after coming to his apartment in the middle of the night. you can’t fight this anymore, even though you should. 

he stares at you with wary eyes. “none of your boyfriends…?” 

you laugh to yourself. “i told you — they never did anything.” 

he grimaces. “i thought you were just trying to spare me the details.” 

“i don’t hide things from you, haji.”

yes, you do. 

he nods, staring down at his lap. “me, neither.” 

you get the feeling, without evidence or proof, that he’s lying to you, too. 

you can’t bring yourself to be upset about that. you just hope, pathetic and hopeless, that he’s lying about the same things you are. 

“haji?” you say, setting your coffee cup down on the table. his eyes lock on that decision, trapped on the mug as you set your now-free hands in your lap. 

“yeah?” he mutters, shifting his gaze to your hands. never meeting your eyes. your heart pounds in your chest, and you hope the dark of his apartment hides that from him somehow. 

“can i ask you something?” 

you’d missed that olive green in ways you shouldn’t. 

[chrollogy]

SIGNED: LOVESICK FOOL #02

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

next | masterlist

synopsis: The sudden popularity over your first confession gives you the confidence to share more about your feelings for a certain someone. Meanwhile, Iwaizumi seems to be in deep thought, especially after reading the second confession—thanks to Oikawa.

chapter content warning: college au, fluff, mutual pining, iwaizumi is more lovesick than he lets on, oikawa is a lil shit, iwa has dimples!, not beta read.

word count: 2k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. ch 3 may be a bit late since i’m still in the process of writing it :> but enjoy !!!

The confessions page never piqued Iwaizumi’s interest, not that it wasn’t interesting per se but he just didn’t have the time to read about other people’s lives unlike you, and Oikawa. Sure, he’d spare a minute or two whenever it’d appear on his timeline but he never sought them out.

If Iwaizumi were to think back on the last confession he had read, it’d be about a student TMI-ing, and confessing how they did the deed with a random stranger in a park near the campus. As expected, the post blew up, and was the talk of the campus for a few weeks straight due to its bizarreness.

Of course, just like every other student, you, and Oikawa gossiped about it during study sessions—safe to say it absolutely drove Iwaizumi nuts because of how much he’s heard that same story over, and over again.

Whenever he came across a confession on his timeline, he’d scroll right past it but oddly enough, the recent post Oikawa read aloud earlier might or might not have piqued his interest.

For starters, Iwaizumi knew he was in the same predicament as the anonymous sender. As he mentioned earlier, it was not easy to have feelings for your best friend, especially if one’s day to day life included said person. He could only act nonchalant for so long before he’d finally break—though, with the long period of time he’s harboured feelings for you, it might be sooner than expected.

Iwaizumi has always wondered how he’s even holding up in the first place every time he remembers how long he had kept his feelings for you. 

It’s just that every single time you’re around him, it does nothing but test his sanity. Everything about you was just so loveable that it wasn’t a surprise when Iwaizumi found himself loving you more than a friend—the lingering glances, his crimson-painted cheeks, the softness of his voice, the warmth of his palms, all those were reserved for you.

And Iwaizumi wished that at least somewhere down the line, you reciprocated his feelings too, even if his love for you outweighed your love for him. At least then, he would experience the feeling of your beating heart against his palms. Oh, Iwaizumi would do nothing but treat it with the utmost care, as though it was a fragile flower—not too much water to drown it but also not too little to starve it.

“Iwaizumi?”

Pulled out of his trance, Iwaizumi blinked up at you, confusion growing on his face with each passing second. Fuck, he was deep in thought, wasn’t he? One minute the two of you were exchanging a conversation, and the next his mind wandered over to uncharted waters—a place he’s been dying to dip a finger into for the longest time.

“Now, you’re the one who seems stressed. Still thinking about your big assignment?”

“Yeah.” He lied.

In all honesty, Iwaizumi wanted nothing but to wrap his arms around you—be as close to you as possible, as though any moment away from your warmth would instantly end him. But Iwaizumi’s arms remained by his side, fingers drumming on the wooden bench beneath, a way to distract the annoying itch of wanting to be near your skin.

The late afternoon breeze blew past, a gentle caress of cold wind against his crimson-painted cheeks, as if mother nature herself cupped his face, and reminded him that everything was going to be alright. The trees danced as the wind intertwined with its leaves, forming a melodic sound to calm the mind.

Both of you were currently passing time before retiring to your rooms, as usual, Iwaizumi had waited after your late afternoon lecture but this time, it felt different. You found him leaning on the side of a vending machine, phone in hand while the other shoved in his pocket, an indifferent expression was plastered on his face—it’s a sight you’ve seen a thousand times, a sight you’re more than familiar with but why did it make your heart flutter so much now

It didn’t help how the subtle smile Iwaizumi sent your way had your knees buckling, and fingers curling tighter around the strap of your bag.

“Can I—” Iwaizumi started.

You noticed the way his fingers drew random shapes on the fabric of his pants, a nervous habit he’s picked up, one that you’ve learned from observing him. Though, you remained silent despite the slight worry in your chest, urging him on to finish his sentence; somehow, what was to come next may or may not have had your heart pounding. The hint of softness in his voice was enough to send your heart into overdrive.

“Is it okay if I lean on you a bit?”

Oh.

Iwaizumi had shifted closer, you knew because you were shielded from the cool late afternoon breeze, instead, the warmth of his body greeted you like a calm embrace. From the corners of your eyes, Iwaizumi looked at you, his dark emerald gaze was intense enough to burn holes through the side of your face—a searing gaze you didn’t know how to return. Yet.

So, you simply nodded. A subtle dip of your chin, eyes fixated on the distant tree line of the park as though it piqued your interest, funny how it's dark green hues reminded you of his eyes.

That was all Iwaizumi needed before closing the distance between your bodies, and leaning his head on your shoulder. You sucked in a breath, closeness was never foreign in the friendship but the feeling of his body flush against your own was enough to torture your poor, poor heart.

Speaking of your heart, you at least hoped that Iwaizumi couldn’t hear it violently pounding against the walls of your chest—how it aggressively wanted to jump out of its confines, and onto his palm.

Unfortunately for you, Iwaizumi heard just fine—he swore your heart stuttered.

Were you nervous? He wanted to be delusional, and think that he was the one making your heart race like this, even though he clearly saw the empty can of energy drink you threw in the bin earlier. Though, on the back of Iwaizumi’s mind, despite the low possibility of his reciprocated feelings, he was oddly confident that it’d never be zero. 

Maybe he was just purely delusional.

“Sorry for inconveniencing you like this, I’m just a bit stressed.” Another lie.

Oh, Iwaizumi wasn’t stressed at all. In fact, he was actually kicking the assignment’s ass that he’s almost a whole week early in submitting it before the scheduled deadline. If anything, it was all child’s play to him. The real reason he was doing this was to simply have you closer to him, nothing else.

He felt kind of bad for lying to you like this since it was a purely selfish reason but could you really blame his heart?

The two of you stayed in complete silence for a moment, basking in the afternoon glow of the sun. The park was now deserted, students, and other park goers opting to head home before the sun fully retired behind the horizon; it was peaceful, as though you, and Iwaizumi were in your own world—something you could both get used to.

Back in his dorm, Iwaizumi unceremoniously plopped onto his swivel chair, he hooked an arm over his eyes, recounting memories of earlier, he could still feel the warmth of your shoulder on his cheek, and the calming tune of your heartbeat.

“What’s got you all in a mess like that?” Oikawa spoke from his bed which caused Iwaizumi to jump from his friend’s sudden voice. “What the fuck, Oikawa?! Don’t do that.” The latter turned his chair to face the brunette, an all-too-familiar scowl written all over his handsome face. Oikawa could only shrug in response, amusement painted on his face at the state of his friend.

“You’re probably not gonna tell me about it so I’ll take it upon myself to talk about something else,”

Before Iwaizumi could even mentally pray that it’s not some stupid gossip, Oikawa was already sitting up on his bed, and clearing his throat to speak.

“Do you remember that confession I read out loud a few days ago? They posted another one, look.” The brunette hastily peeled himself from under the ivory covers, and within a second, he was in front of Iwaizumi, phone shoved abnormally close to the latter’s face, causing him to jerk back a bit.

Clearly, he had all the time in the world with how updated he was with this goddamn confessions page. Iwaizumi wasn’t going to lie, he remembered details about that particular confession from a few days ago far more than the contents of his lectures. Not on purpose, though, moreso out of his own will.

Every hallway he walked, every lecture room he entered, every café he studied at, and every bathroom he used, at least two students were talking about it. Iwaizumi couldn’t care to listen in on their conversations nor did he want to, it wasn’t like talking about it more would somewhat reveal the person behind these confessions.

Iwaizumi couldn’t even escape it even in his own room. Though, this was normal, as if the whole campus ran solely on juicy gossip.

Of course it was about that damn confessions page, Oikawa was practically it’s number one fan at this point, Iwaizumi bets the former probably has a ‘Top Fan’ badge with how much he interacts with each, and every confession they post. He wouldn’t be surprised if the brunette openly admitted to sending in submissions to the page.

He grabbed the phone off Oikawa’s hand, and read it. Iwaizumi figured entertaining his friend’s antics would be much better than resisting it since he could get extremely annoying at times—all the time, even.

‘Today, I asked him if he was stressed and he agreed without hesitation. It pains my heart to see him beneath grey clouds; I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and hold him until all the stress drains from his body, until he’s smiling again and a subtle dimple forms on his cheeks, until he lets out a hearty, melodic laugh that I’ve grown to love but don’t be mistaken, I’ll love him whatever version of himself he presents. Wholeheartedly. Maybe—if only—he’ll let me be his safe space, not just a best friend but something more.’

Huh, how weird. Why did his heart flutter? This wasn’t even for him.

Iwaizumi’s eyes shifted back, and forth, back, and forth over each sentence until they reached the end. He did this for a total of four times, and each time—without fail—his mind wandered back to fifteen minutes ago where he was sitting on a wooden park bench with you, his head on your shoulder. It was like the confession described exactly what happened earlier.

He recounted your words, and how you were talking about how stressed he was. From this perspective, everything fit in perfectly like a puzzle piece but was Iwaizumi reaching too hard? Was his mind playing tricks on him just to convince himself that these two confessions came from you? As far as he knows, you’ve never even sent in a submission yourself but that didn’t mean you couldn’t.

Okay, maybe Iwaizumi was being delusional. All those years pining after you had finally gotten to his brain, and turned him into nothing but a yearning, pathetic man.

Though, the confession easily could have been from anyone. Not to mention how it's been such a tough semester so far, it made sense for the anonymous submitter to write about their best friend being stressed about something. Right? Right. Iwaizumi was getting way ahead of himself for assuming such things, he blamed it on his mind stubbornly shaping reality into things that benefited his situation.

He was looking too deeply into this.

See, this was the consequence of letting one Oikawa Tooru get inside one’s head, clearly, it’s the brunette’s fault for even showing something that didn’t concern Iwaizumi at all. And it could only get worse from here.

Oikawa impatiently pulled his phone away from Iwaizumi’s hold, reeling the latter back into reality. The brunette read the paragraph once more before letting out an amused hum, catching his friend’s attention.

He puckered his lips, brown eyes narrowed, and brows subtly knitted together as he stared at his phone. Oh. Iwaizumi didn’t like that expression at all, and he sure wasn’t going to like the words coming out of Oikawa’s mouth next. He knew that face all too well, it screamed nothing but mischief, and a thirst for chaos.

“Say, Iwa-chan, you have dimples when you smile just like the post mentioned. Haha—won’t it be interesting if these confessions were for you?”

What the fuck?

—

tags: @stunie @akumakitsune21 @boosyboo9206 @khfviq @avis-writeshq @elliesndg @1929sleepdeprived @wakashudou @lillycore @viscoolreal @lialia3945 @softpia @anqelkoz @tar0sw0rld @nwhaerin @kiyuwumi @seroh @eggyrocks @jellysupremacy @songofgratitude @gsyche @haikyuusunsalad @smellysluna @amoosarte (lmk if you wanna be tagged and don’t forget to turn your mentions on :3)

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @the-all-stars-network !

© chrollogy 2024 | don't plagiarise, repost or steal my header.

[captain-hawks]

* — contains smut

familiar* friends to lovers, feels, sex in a bathroom at a wedding!

someday was always just right here* friends to lovers, pining, protective iwa.

misc. iwaizumi drabbles

dizzy* disco pang pang + dry humping.

messy* a threesome with makki (in a parking garage!)

imagine being loved by me* filming a porno with mattsun, brat!taming.

is it casual now?* werewolf!mattsun, dry humping, scenting.

misc. mattsun drabbles

messy* a threesome with mattsun (in a parking garage!)

friendly competition* a threesome with atsumu.

telling secrets there on the mattress* …there's a mirror on the ceiling.

[noosayog]

[exactly where you wanted me] in which Oikawa asks you to be his fake girlfriend and isn't expecting to be swept off his feet

wc: 2.3k

warnings/content: she/her!reader, minimal angst, mostly fluff, love triangle-ish (as I had forewarned), pining

It’s a Friday morning, when Iwaizumi, accompanied by a very excited looking Oikawa, pulls you aside before homeroom starts. 

Suspicious, you think. But if Iwa-chan is on board, it can’t be too bad. 

After lots of flowery words and floundering from Oikawa, Iwaizumi explains that Oikawa wants you to pretend to date him to deter his fangirls from crowding practice afterschool in less than two sentences. He uses an additional sentence to say it’s stupid but probably effective. 

You’ve been friends with Iwa-chan since your first years in high school and you generally think Oikawa is amusing, so you agree.

--

There’s not much to fake dating that’s different from real dating. You spend time together and there’s no way Oikawa’s heart stood a chance against getting this much alone time with you. He’s enjoyed being able to hang out with both you and Iwa-chan together before, but now, as your fake boyfriend, he’s allowed to indulge in all of your attention. He likes that. 

So in the spirit of playing the role of a good fake boyfriend mixed with some selfish intentions, he asks - begs - you to come to cheer him on at a friendly practice match between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa, because that’s what people who are dating do. You agree. 

On the day of the match, there you are, dressed in his spare turquoise blue jersey. He doesn’t realize he’s grinning like a maniac until Iwa-chan smacks him upside the head to tell him to start warming up. 

He’s still having trouble focusing when he notices you making your way down to the court. Instead of going straight to him, though, he watches you make your way to the Shiratorizawa side of the court. He’s about to stop you, out of concern that straight-arrow Ushiwaka would reprimand you for interrupting warm-ups, but to his surprise (horror), Ushijima meets you in the middle and starts chatting with you. 

Okay, what’s going on here? Is Ushiwaka… trying to flirt with you? 

Rationally, he knows it’s unlikely. Chronically, Oikawa is an overreactor and overthinker. 

So he storms up to you and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you away from the enemy captain. He hides your entire frame behind his and puffs his chest up, arms crossed defensively. 

“Ushijima,” he greets with false bravado. “Do you need something with my girlfriend?” 

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says in his calm voice, and nothing else. 

Nothing else? Okay, he was used to carrying the conversation with this brick wall of a man anyway. “Ready to lose today?”

Ushijima’s head cocks to the side, “Who, me?” 

Oikawa’s eyes twitch. “Do you see anyone else here? There’s no way I’d lose with my girlfriend cheering me on.” 

Ushijima’s eyebrows raise. “Girlfriend?” he questions, looking at you. 

“Yes,” Oikawa asserts. He doesn’t like the look Ushijima is giving you. Like he knows something, knows you. 

“Wakatoshi,” you start. 

First name basis? 

Oikawa’s uncomprehending but there’s no time for explanations because Coach Washijo is calling Ushijima and Iwaizumi is calling him. You give both him and Ushijima a little wave and say nothing else as you return to the stands. 

Seijoh wins with Ushiwaka sitting out for 2 of the 3 sets played. You had cheered for him as promised. After the match, his teammates give him a hard smack in the back, Iwa-chan adding a glare and warning to stay focused regardless of official or practice match next time.

As you’ve been doing every evening since you started fake dating, you wait for Oikawa outside of the gym to walk home together. However, unlike any other day, Oikawa does not wound his arm around your shoulder nor does he clasp his hands in yours. He puts a respectable 2-feet distance between the two of you. Adrenaline from the game subsiding, thoughts of you and Ushijima surface again. 

“Oikawa?” you peer at him. “What’s wrong?” 

“What is your relationship with Ushiwaka?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. “You call him by his first name.” So much for that. 

“Wakatoshi is a friend I grew up with. My parents are friends with his.” You’re casual, as if there is nothing more to the story. 

“And he always lets you interrupt his warm ups to talk to him?” his voice heavy with implication. 

Your quick replies come to a halt. The pause is heavy and awkward, but this time, when you respond, you meet his eyes evenly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Oikawa shrinks at your narrowed eyes. “Nothing,” he mumbles. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer anyway. “Thanks for coming today,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you on Monday then.” 

You allow him to lean in and give you your usual peck that comes with any goodbye with Oikawa, today on the cheek. “Bye, Oikawa.” 

--

On Monday, he updates Iwaizumi with all the details. Predictably, Iwa-chan slaps the back of his head. 

“Oww! Why did you do that?” 

“Why does who she’s friends with matter to you?” Iwaizumi starts walking away but pauses to crane his head back to level Oikawa with a stare. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question. Figure it out yourself, idiot.” 

Oikawa’s left rubbing the back of his head.

--

Mattsun and Makki are next. 

“Well, just think about it,” Makki says. 

“Why does it bother you so much that Ushiwaka is involved with her?” Mattsun finishes. 

“Well, she’s my-”

“Fake girlfriend.” Mattsun interrupts. 

“Fake.” Makki echoes. 

“Fake.” Mattsun nods. 

--

Oikawa reminisces about the first time you called him Toru. It had been the first time the two of you had walked home together after you had started fake dating and Oikawa had thought that you would start calling him Toru all the time.

You didn’t. Even though you call Ushijima by his first name. 

Contrary to Iwa-chan’s constant labeling, Oikawa isn’t an idiot. He knows that this jealousy and greed for more of you – your time, your attention, your affection – all point to one thing. He is self-diagnosing lovesickness. He has a crush on you. 

Logical next steps would be for Oikawa to take full advantage of all the alone time he gets to spend with you as your fake boyfriend, sweep you off your feet, seduce you, the works. Not that he hasn’t already been doing that. 

Luckily, as your fake boyfriend, a big perk is that it’s literally in Oikawa’s job description to scare potential suitors away. Not that it was hard with how popular and good-looking he is, if he does say so himself. 

However, tricking your childhood friend proved more difficult than he had hoped. In fact, it seemed the two of you didn’t have to, because the next time he sees you and Ushijima, somehow your childhood friend seems to already know. 

It’s later that night when Oikawa decides he wants to go on a late night convenience store run for some ice cream with you. You had responded, jokingly, “Fake boyfriends don’t ask me out on dates.” 

“Who said it was a date?” 

You laughed and agreed. 

So he meets you at your front door, dreaming of skipping to the store, swinging hands with you, and looking forward to an ice-cream induced sugar rush. Those dreams are quickly dashed when your front door swings open with a guilty looking you. 

“I’m sorry, Oikawa,” you start but before you can elaborate, your front door opens again to reveal Ushijima. You turn your head back and nod lightly in Ushijima’s direction, as if that explains the situation. 

“Oikawa,” Ushijima greets, his usual stoic mask unchanging. 

Oikawa turns his cheek at him and ignores the greeting. He leans in conspiratorially with a hand over his palm and whispers obnoxiously, “what’s he doing here?” 

You slap his hand away and turn to Ushijima. “Wakatoshi, I don’t need a chaperone. You can just go home.” 

“Your parents asked me to accompany you to the store if you wanted to go.” 

“Oikawa can take me.” 

“Your parents asked me,” he says simply.

You apologize to Oikawa for Ushijima’s bullheadedness, and he knows you intend to assuage him, but all he can think about is why on earth are you apologizing for Ushijima? But all he does is nod and make towards the convenience store. When you fall into step with him, he does not skip with you and swing your hands. He also doesn't think he's going to be feeling any sort of sugar rush anymore, mood soured. 

Oikawa can’t help but drop a comment as the three of you are walking home. “Kind of insensitive of you to be third-wheeling a date, don’t you think?” 

Ushijima’s eyes flip over to you. “I didn’t realize you needed to be on the job during the weekends too.” 

Oikawa’s smile drops. On the job? He turns around to face you, watching your face carefully as you flash Ushijima a sheepish smile, eyes flickering between the two captains. 

“Don’t call it a job, Wakatoshi.” 

Oikawa’s stomach twists when he hears you call him by his first name again. 

Ushijima ignores your comment and turns to Oikawa. “I’ll walk her home. You can go home.” 

You shake your head at him. “No, Wakatoshi. Oikawa will walk me home. I’ll see you later.” 

Surprisingly, Ushijima concedes and listens to you. “Bye, Wakatoshi,” you say. 

The two of you watch Ushijima’s back recede further and further and don’t say anything even when he’s long gone. You start walking in the direction of your home, but Oikawa takes hold of your wrist. 

“You told him?” 

“Who? Told what?” 

Oikawa levels you with a hard look that you’re not used to. 

“No!” you deny. You’re avoiding eye contact.

“Then how does he know?” He can’t help the accusatory tone slipping into his voice. He’s scared that if he isn’t on the offensive, he’ll let the hurt slip out. 

“Well, I… You know I’m a bad liar! He just… found out!” 

You wait, maybe for Oikawa to laugh it off and tell you it’s okay as he normally would, but he doesn’t. 

“It’ll be okay,” you explain. “Wakatoshi doesn’t go to our school and even if he does, he would never talk about other people's problems.” 

There’s a lot Oikawa wants to ask. Like why you’re vouching for him, why you call him Wakatoshi, when he’s just “Oikawa.” But instead, he just nods robotically and you seem relieved that he doesn’t seem mad. When you arrive at your front door, Oikawa stuffs his hands in his pockets and waits for you to go. You don’t, but he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he’s the only one feeling this thick tension and awkwardness in the silence. He opts for a quick goodbye but before he can walk off, you grab his arm and yank him back. 

“Oikawa,” you say. 

“What? You might as well have pulled my whole arm off! I need my arms, you know,” he jokes.

“Toru.” Your eyes are steady looking at him. “What’s wrong?” 

Oikawa’s smile drops and he breaks eye contact first. He can only look at the floor while he thinks about what he can say. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable, but I’m your friend right? We may not be really dating, but I still want to be there for you if you’re having a hard time.” 

Silence. 

“Is it Wakatoshi? I know you don’t like him but-” 

“Do you?”

You blink. “Do I what?” 

“Do you like him?” 

“No!” you exclaim, taken aback. “Where did that come from?” 

“You call him by his first name.” 

“Well, yes. We’ve known each other since we were children, though! There’s no special meaning.” 

Deep breath. 

“So when you call me by my first name, is there special meaning? We’re not childhood friends.” 

Your eyes widen like saucers and you’re the first to break eye contact, face to the floor. 

There’s a long pause and he feels stupid for even asking, for hoping. Oikawa sighs and takes a gaping step back, away from you. “Forget I said anything.” 

“What if it did,” you whisper. So quietly, Oikawa almost missed it. And he would’ve, if he isn’t in a constant state of hanging onto every word you say, every sign you give. 

You meet his eyes, and repeat, “what if it does?” 

Oikawa isn’t processing this information quick enough, but he can already feel his hopes welling up to fill his chest. He’s so scared that he might be misreading the situation, fitting meaning into your words. “When I say special meaning, it means special.” He says dumbly. He emphasizes the word special, in hopes that you would understand the entire slew of suppressed feelings in that one word. 

“I do understand,” you say simply. 

It was a feeling akin to when it was simultaneously his service point and match point. The simplicity in which you delivered your meaning left no choice but to flood his chest with hope. He doesn’t even realize that he has a massive smile plastered on until you’re mirroring his expression. He waits no longer in stepping into your space, fingers intertwining with yours. He gives you your usual parting kiss, on the forehead, and lingers a few moments longer. 

“Good night, then, girlfriend.” Even if you can’t see his face because of how close he is to you, he makes sure you can feel the curve of his grin and every word whispered against your temple. 

He’s feeling good, satisfied, as he turns around to make his own way home (to squeal and roll around in glee in private), when you grab his arm once again. 

Shameless, he gloats, “still haven’t had enough? I’m happy to-” 

In true fashion, you humble him by pressing your lips against his, effectively shutting him up and wiping the smirk off his face. When you pull away, he chases your lips, eyes still closed. You giggle, give him one more gentle peck, and skip inside, leaving him there, red as a tomato.

[kings-highway]

KingsHighway Iwaoi Fics Be Like: *Iwa is Pining* *Oikawa is Pretty* *Mental Health Issues* *Iwa is Pining²* *Drama* *Iwa Is Pining³*

KingsHighway Ushiten Fics Be Like: *Autism* *Autism* *Self-Worth Issues* *Anxiety* *Tendou is Healing* *Ushijima is Weird* *Social Cue Missed* *Autism*

KingsHighway Daisuga Fics Be Like: *KILL DAICHI* *KILL DAICHI* *KILL DAICHI* *KILL DAICHI* *KILL DAICHI* *KILL DAICHI* *KILL DAICHI*

[iheartduckie]

oikawa tōru’s route

from this post!

reader x oikawa tōru (best friends to lovers)

headcanons | 600+ words | gender neutral

warnings: this is unedited!!!

————————

- of all people, you didn’t think that you’d fall for your childhood friend, oikawa tōru

- it all started when he came by your house, asking if you wanted to play with him and his friend iwaizumi

- his mom and sister love you, and always joked that you were tōru’s little s/o (causing little oikawa to blush and grab your hand as a flustered habit)

- from that day on, the three (3) of you stayed as friends, attracted to the hip until high school

- when you realized that you liked tōru in your first year of high school, all of the once friendly habits left you butterflies

- from how he likes ruffling your hair, putting his arm over your shoulder, meeting your glance in the classroom- it all left you hoping for more from him

- not really minding if your other bestie knew, you first told iwaizumi about your crush, and if he were honest he knew the whole time

- despite the hints of your interest in him, oikawa was oblivious..

- we all know how he thrives in the attention of his fans, and you’d be lying if you were to tell iwa that you didn’t care- and although it did hurt him to see you this dejected, he respected your wishes and never told oikawa

- by your third year, you were a strong and independent individual. you were still best friends with both oikawa and iwaizumi, but your feelings for oikawa never faltered.. even tho you were trying to deny these ‘unwanted’ feelings

- and oikawa being himself, he didn’t exclude you from his flirty shenanigans, leaving the whole team and bestie iwa to witness your mutual pining, EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU DROPPED BY THEIR PRACTICES OR HUNG OUT WITH THEM (!)

- it was when you saw how oikawa sizzled down his flirting with the fans when iwa told you how oikawa returned your feelings

- now, kinda silly of you, you thought that iwa was kidding and continued doing you

- although oikawa still continued to pin after you, so after telling iwaizumi his whole elaborate plan on how he’d confess to you, he decided to go in for the kill, execute his plan on the day you both met, way back when

- poor iwaizumi hajime, he deserves a lot for having to deal with you both

- on said day, oikawa seemed to be nervous- a little out of character for him, but you didn’t look into it,, and asked you if he could walk you home after practice

- when you went to met him, you were also sure to greet iwa and when you asked if anything was wrong with oikawa. he simply gave you a knowing smile and ruffled your hair, sending you on your way.

- the whole walk was unintentionally awkward, with the unaddressed tension in the air,, so you both didn’t talk until you asked him about it, in front of your house

- as the moon shone above, he let you know how he felt about you,, so sincerely with words from the heart.

“listen, recently, i’m not sure why i barely realized this now, but i feel like i’ve actually felt like this forever. throughout our whole friendship, yn, i’ve been in love with you. all of the simple things you do, the sound of your laugh, the way your so caring towards others and i- it’s just,” he gave a small laugh before meeting your eyes before taking a deep breath, “you just take my breath away.. would you go out with me?”

- he was overwhelmed when you accepted his confession, immediately hugging you and kissing your cheek

- all was well, until your mom called for you from the porch and playfully scolding oikawa for seeing someone this late

- the two of you parted with a high five quick kiss, leaving oikawa to stare lovingly at your figure as you let yourself in..

- you were ultimately in love with your best friend

————————

reposts/feedback are appreciated!

masterlist

[miyamoratsumuu]

JAMAIS VU

✒ pronounced as ja-mais vu,

meaning the experience of feeling unfamiliar with something that is very familiar to you.

✒ an h.iwaizumi smau + written series

✒ decades have passed and in another life, they've found their way back to each other's arms. could they finally get the happy ending they missed out on years ago? now that he got his second chance, hajime would do anything it takes to spend forever with you.

✒ reincarnated lovers/romance, friends to lovers, red string of fate (just a small reference of it), pining

✒ swearing, characters may be ooc, modern and "of age"/vintage/1950s au (alternates in chapters), extreme lovesickness especially when iwa's writing letters, oikawa mattsun and makki being wingmen

✒ taglist: open (send in an ask or reply to be added<3)

✒ status: ongoing

(✎) for written chapters

00. the heading (prologue) ✎ letter: unsent HIS SALUTATION 01. then 02. and now THE BODY 03. then 04. and now

navigation ✉ haikyuu masterlist

a/n: a (hopefully) short iwa smau so I could indulge in iwa some more 🙋🏻‍♀️

[causenessus]

binary stars

part 0.05. intros. OIKAWA'S EMOTIONAL SUPPORT GROUP

NOW FEATURING...

THE STAR AND HIS PLANETS ‧₊˚✩彡

oikawa tooru .°˖✧

seijoh’s volleyball captain and distant uncle of the team (most certainly not a co-parent). did not realize that what he felt for y/n was romantic until their first year in secondary school when she tried to distance herself and now he feels stupid. whenever he needs to be put in his place (e.g. after leading on another girl too much) he can always count on iwa to talk him down and remind him about how badly he’s messed up </3 currently pining after y/n without making it obvious because he’s scared of ruining what they have in case y/n doesn’t like him the same way back - follows y/n's private on his main and private in case she ever decides to give him a second chance </3 - known for unfollowing people when he wants to say something without someone in specific knowing (e.g. ranting about the one sided mental war he's fighting with kenma inside his head without kuroo knowing). once he feels that his point has been made, he'll delete the post and follow the person again so that they can see his private (y/n uses this and the picture he leaked as reason for why she's never letting him back onto her private when in reality they're just excuses to be able to indirectly post about him without him ever knowing)

FEATURING...

iwaizumi hajime & bokuto koutaro .°˖✧

iwa-chan

co-parenting seijoh with y/n. also their ace and vice captain. will have an aneurysm if neither tooru nor y/n make a move on each other. he loves y/n but he will only be able to handle oikawa for so much longer. maybe he’d be able to last if he got to go to y/n’s girls nights more but that’s kuroo’s role while he has to attend tooru’s boys nights as his best man. he’s feeling a little bit like atlas rn but he knows it’ll be worth it in the end (if they ever get to the end).

bokuto

FUKURODANI’S ACE !!! found his way into the solar system after a practice match between fukoridani and seijoh. he could tell immediately that something was up between their manager and captain. he had fun getting to know oikawa and felt like he had seen their manager before. bo talked it over with akaashi, asking him if he felt like there was something going on between seijoh’s manager and captain. akaashi nodded and then was shocked when he fully processed how socially aware bo was being. he then answered bo that yes, he had seen their manager before because she was good friends with kuroo. after that, he knew who to talk to in order to get the details ❤️ his entrance into the gc went as follows: oikawa: why was bokuto just added to the gc kuroo: he would like to speak for himself your honor bokuto: I KNOW YOUR SECRET

FEATURING...

matsukawa issei & hanamaki takahiro .°˖✧

mattsun

seijoh’s middle blocker and one of five third years. him and makki are just there for a good time, and watching essentially four people and a few more distant people try and manage the mutual pining of two idiots who might as well be blind qualifies as entertaining. he’s taken it upon himself to maintain the mental stability of the team whenever oikawa’s messes up and sends y/n through the five stages of grief--starting with setting up the net for the team

makki

seijoh’s outside hitter and one of five third years. is thinking that perhaps him and mattsun should get onto the trend of co-parenting and adopting someone. they’ve assumed the role of the grandparents that seijoh’s team has to put up with whenever y/n or iwa are out of commission LMAO both him and mattsun usually get oikawa’s side of the story but sometimes they work together to try and fit the vague, out-of-context tweets on y/n’s private into the puzzle of oikawa’s stories

not featured:

kuroo tetsuro </3

currently undercover for y/n but he can’t complain. is still good friends with oikawa and as a result hears about a lot of his feelings in their groupchat but when it comes down to it he’s on y/n’s side. neither oikawa nor y/n realize how much information both iwa and kuroo have because they’re good at what they do. kuroo’s trying his best to alleviate iwa’s stress as he continues to watch the disaster of miscommunication occur between his two childhood friends that's been happening since they were kids

full picture of what oikawa posted to his private bc unfortunately it's not an upside down dick </3

prev. | m.list | next

[iwahajii]

breaking the boundaries

dares and unrequited love should never be mixed with alcohol.

tags: fluff, kind of sexy, unrequited, pining, mutual feelings, a tiny bit of angst

It was the stupid, stupid dare. Iwaizumi thinks as he watches you make your way towards the dance floor, right in the middle of the crowd. The flashing lights make it hard to see clearly, but he tried his best to focus his eyes on you.

You don’t have to do it, he tried telling you a while ago but you weren’t listening, already stubborn and tipsy to be your usual rational self.

They were only teasing, the same as they always did with the two of you. He wondered what reason Makki had to push your buttons tonight, more so than he ever did in the past. The culprits, Oikawa and Hanamaki, already scurried away, following right after you in the dance floor. Mattsun who didn’t join in the teasing stayed in the booth with him, drinking and smoking, but Iwaizumi knew that despite his silence, he was just as invested in this dare as the other two. His smirk behind his glass was the only hint Iwaizumi needed to confirm his suspicion.

He was an hour late to your get-together and by the time he arrived, Hanamaki was already drunk, Oikawa not too far behind and you trailing off the other two. Iwaizumi could only sigh as he slid on your booth, taking the empty seat beside you.

“Remember when you confessed to Iwa-chan in high school?” Oikawa blurts out of nowhere and Iwaizumi knew he needed a drink fast.

“Oikawa,” he warns.

You groaned, but Iwaizumi could see you laugh slightly. “Oh god. Please, don’t remind me.”

Oikawa cackles and high-fived Makki.

“That was horrible, wasn’t it?” You asked, turning to Iwaizumi for the first time that night but before he could reply, you continued. “I shouldn’t have done that. Now these idiots won’t let me live it down.”

I shouldn’t have done that.

Iwaizumi felt a twinge in his heart upon hearing those words, but he numbed it down by drinking his glass of rum.

“They’re idiots,” he consoles.

The memory of that time flashed in his mind. It’s scary how vivid he can remember it, how you looked back then, how you said the words he wanted to scream at the world, and how he had to break both of your hearts because he was going to UCLA.

“At least we’re still friends,” you declared. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

You turned to him again, a soft grin on your lips as you bumped your shoulder to his. The brief touch sent a wave of electricity down to his toes, but he couldn’t dwell on it because Makki started running his mouth again.

“Well, if all’s well that ends well, I think you’d be up for a dare,” he mused.

“And what do I get if I win?” You challenge, already caught with his bait.

“Let’s see,” Oikawa hums. “It has to be what you really, really want. How about if… we never talk about your confession to Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi watches you pause, clearly surprised at the reward. The memory of that time was like a bane to your existence, used by the trio to tease and blackmail you at times.

“What’s the dare?”

“Nope. You have to say yes first before we tell you what it is,” Makki says.

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Deal.”

He turned to look at you, taken aback by your decision. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

“If it means we can all move forward from my dark history, I’d take it,” you answer. Looking at Oikawa, you asked, “What do I do?”

“I dare you to hook up with someone tonight.”

There was silence for a while and Oikawa spent the whole time looking at you with challenge in his eyes but you weren’t backing down.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he heard you right.

“Don’t be stupid,” he tells you but you were already shrugging off your cardigan, revealing the dress you were wearing.

“Here,” Makki says as he slides a shot of vodka in front of you. “So you don’t get scared.” He teased, chuckling as you shot it back.

“I’m no coward,” you haughtily say before standing up and Iwaizumi’s breath gets caught in his throat as he sees your clothes completely for the first time that night.

The only problem with the dress was that it was an inch shy of being indecent and it hugged all the right places and you looked good-hot, gorgeous, amazing, but Iwaizumi had to snap out of it because you were friends.

He was the one who said those words six years ago.

When you asked him to stand so you can get out of the booth, everything in him wanted to protest, wanted to hide you away from everyone so no one can see you in that dress, but he willed himself to stand and make way for you.

He knew then he was fucked.

Iwaizumi feels himself panic when he loses sight of you from the crowd. His panic turns to something… bitter and green as he watches a stranger whisper close to your ear and you laughed.

Fuck.

Forcing his eyes away, he refilled his glass and downed the whole thing before closing his eyes. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine now, could feel the dull, heavy pounding in his head, probably because he’s still adjusting from the difference in time zones.

“If it means anything to you, she rejected me,” he hears Matsukawa say.

Slowly, Iwaizumi opened his eyes to look at his friend. His heart pounded in his chest, a thousand questions flooding his brain but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Why? Why are you telling me this? You liked her? How could you?

His last thought made him laugh. Iwaizumi reached for his empty glass, shaking his head as he laughed at himself and how much of a hypocrite he is. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I ran away.”

Matsukawa sighed and leaned back in his seat. “We all know she would’ve waited.”

“I couldn’t do that,” he counters. “I would never make it to UCLA if I accepted her confession back then and she would never forgive me if I stayed.”

It was a confession Iwaizumi never told anyone. He wanted to bring it with him to his grave, his biggest what if and his greatest regret, but it was freeing to say it out loud. He could feel the weight off of his chest lessen now that his secret is shared with one trusted soul.

He thought about how he lived off of your encouragement and support during his stay abroad, finding comfort in your messages despite how seldom they came with how busy you both were. He was worried at first but it didn’t become awkward between the two of you given what happened, probably because of the physical distance.

He wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for you.

“She’s still in love with you,” Mattsun says.

Iwaizumi watches as Matsukawa raises his middle finger, mocking whoever he was looking at and Iwaizumi follows his line of sight, landing on you and the stranger from before.

Upon seeing Matsukawa flip you off, you threw your head back and laughed.

Iwaizumi watched as your head meets the stranger’s chest and you laughed again at whatever he whispered in your ear. He could see your bodies sway together, moving in unison as the man slides a hand to your waist.

It honestly felt like his heart is being smashed to pieces inside his chest.

Your eyes turn to Iwaizumi, and you held his gaze for a second too long before turning away fast.

Leaning back in his seat, he thought about the what ifs and could haves between the two of you. He loved you. Loves you. Always. What if he accepted your confession, would you survive the long distance? What if he didn’t go to UCLA and went to Tokyo University with you instead, will the two of you be happy? Time was never on his side then, but will it be now? If he risks it all now, will you accept him?

“Shit!”

The loud curse from Matsukawa interrupted his pity party. Raising his head, he turned to see what Matsukawa was looking at and his eyes landed on you arguing with the man you were just dancing with, more like grinding with, he bitterly added, seconds ago.

Iwaizumi bolted out of his seat and walked right into the pool of sweaty bodies faster than you could blink, his eyes never leaving you as you continue to argue with the stranger.

“I told you a million fucking times not to touch me,” he heard you shout just as he reached the circle you were now making in the middle of the dance floor.

The man shook his head, laughing in disbelief. “You were practically begging for me to touch you. You kept on sticking your ass whe-“

Screams erupted at the same time Iwaizumi feels a sharp pain shoot up his arm. He was breathing hard, his body taut as a wire because of the sudden anger raging inside him. Whatever the man was supposed to say, no one will ever know because Iwaizumi broke his nose before he could utter another word. He watched as the man clutched his bleeding nose while groaning pitifully on the floor.

“Fucking idiot!” He heard you say before he felt you pull him, dragging him away before he could contemplate inflicting further physical harm.

As the two of you passed the exit of the club, you were on his face yelling at him. “What the hell were you thinking?! Someone could’ve recognized you!”

He could hear you speak, rambling on and on about how much of an idiot he was but all he could think about was that man’s hands on you and before he could stop himself, pulled you to him and placed his hands on your waist.

At this distance, you’re wrapped up on his cologne and combined with the alcohol, the only thing on your mind is to take it all in, to breathe in his scent and to bask in his touch. His hands were larger, firmer and warmer than the stranger’s hands. And they felt perfect there, on your waist, meant to never touch anyone else’s.

But reality hits you like a truck and you pushed Iwaizumi away.

It was like a punch to his stomach and it left him breathless, reeling from the tangle of emotions he was feeling. He knows he’s scared shitless right now. Scared of letting himself be this vulnerable, scared of the fact that maybe he’s too late but what he doesn’t want to even think about was the possibility of losing you in the aftermath of whatever is going on between you two.

“We need to talk,” he tells you.

He tentatively reached for your arm, afraid that you’d run away again.

When you turned to look at him with red, glassy eyes, Iwaizumi could only take a shaky breath before running a hand through his hair.

Words were flooding his brain in that moment, each word fighting over the other to be said first, but he was like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth, unable to get the words out so he let instinct take over and crashed his lips to yours.

The first touch was light, tentative and scared, with his hand cradling your cheek as seconds passed, the two of you stuck in a limbo of unsaid words and restrained emotions. He could feel the knot in his stomach disappear when you didn’t push him away, and feeling a dose of courage fill his veins, pulls you closer with his hand on your back as he angled your face to deepen the kiss.

It was exhilarating and he felt braver, bolder because you were kissing him back with the same energy, the same hunger he felt, your lips matching his every move. He gasped when he felt you tug on his hair, and you used this as an opportunity to slide your tongue in his mouth.

Sweet fucking Jesus, Iwaizumi thought. He could feel the goosebumps in his skin as he trembled at the sensation of your mouth. You are the sweetest thing he ever tasted and the tinge of bitterness he could taste from the alcohol was just as addicting.

Iwaizumi knew this kiss was far from romantic, not at all what he imagined he’d do if he would ever be given the chance to kiss you but it was perfect. It was passionate and desperate, exactly how he feels in that moment, exactly how he feels about you. He never wanted to stop, he wanted time to stop, freezing the two of you in that moment but you jumped away from him when a car horn blasted beside you.

“You getting in or not?” the cab driver yelled from inside the car.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You were breathing heavily, hair disheveled from the way Iwaizumi was weaving his hand through it during the kiss and you were looking at him with the same heat, the same hunger pooling in his own stomach.

Before you could protest, Iwaizumi pulls you to get inside the car with him following closely. He rattles off his address to the driver as the taxi drives away from the curb.

He watches you fidget in your seat, your hand raised as you bit your nails but he took your hand and entwined your fingers with his to stop you.

There was only silence between the two of you during the car ride but he knew you were as restless as he was, heat prickling under the skin and eager to touch once again.

The two of you dashed inside the building and the elevator doors just closed when Iwaizumi pins you to the wall, his lips crashing into yours once again in another intoxicating kiss. Both of your hands are now buried in his hair, pushing and tugging as you kissed him back. His hands are everywhere, touching and pulling you closer and closer to eradicate any space between you.

Thank heavens there was no one else in the elevator.

As the box slowed to a stop, Iwaizumi practically carried you out as he led the two of you towards his door. It took him four tries to open the door because he was so distracted with you kissing his jaw.

When he got it to open, he drags you inside and kicked it close. Iwaizumi expertly maneuvers the two of you around his house all while keeping you close to him the whole time.

You feel the air whoosh out of your lungs when he throws you on his bed, him quickly chasing your lips once again as he joins you in bed.

There were no thoughts in your head at that point, all your senses zeroed in on him as you bask in the feel of his weight on you, a guttural moan escaping your lips when his hips met yours.

And that’s when Iwaizumi shuddered as alarm bells rang in his head.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.

It’s not as though he had it all planned out with roses and candles nor was he particular with details, but this is wrong. You’re drunk and he’ll be damned if he took advantage of that.

“We should stop.”

“What? Why?” You asked, hands still roaming on his back and he shivered when you kissed his jaw. “It feels good.”

He definitely did not have to hear that. It took all of his willpower to control himself and not kiss you again when your lips are busy leaving trails on his neck. He pushed himself up to look at you, definitely also a mistake because seeing you on his bed, your hair disheveled, cheeks red and lips swollen, something inside him snapped and he mentally debated whether he was a masochist for doing this to himself.

What broke him out of his trance was you suddenly sobbing, face scrunched up as tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Shit. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” He frantically asked.

“You’re an idiot!” you wailed as you sat up, hands furiously rubbing on your cheeks. “I did everything to make you like me and now you don’t even want to touch me because-because I don’t know why! I hate you, you insensitive gorilla!”

Iwaizumi was dumbfounded at your words. He knew you liked him back in high school but he didn’t think you’d keep your feelings for him even after he rejected you. He knew how stupid it was to let the love of his life go but he didn’t want to put the two of you in jeopardy because of his plans.

You were trying to punch him now, your fists clenched but all they were doing was thumped on his chest and even though you were already snotty and tear-stained, his heart still thrashed in his chest, screaming that you are the most beautiful person in the world.

He would’ve kissed you then, except you cut his train of thought with “I think I’m going to be sick” before proceeding to puke all over yourself and into the duvet.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The next morning, you get woken up by the loud ringing of your phone and you swiped at it, knowing that the familiar tone is dedicated to Oikawa and he probably has some gossip or whatever to be calling you this early in the morning.

Cheers and laughters erupted from the speaker and you squint at the bright screen, finding the trio with shit-eating grins plastered on their faces.

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi groggily mumbles behind you, before pressing the red button and throwing your phone down to the floor.

Deciding to continue sleeping, you closed your eyes and pulled the soft covers up to your chin. The arm on your waist felt warm as it pulled you closer to a solid chest behind you-

Wait.

Behind you?

Arm on your waist?

Iwaizumi?

The scream that left your lungs can probably go down in the history of screams as you scrambled out of bed. You could feel your heart hammering on your chest and when your eyes landed on Iwaizumi’s tan skinned chest, the scream you were about to let out got stuck on your throat. When you met his eyes, he looked bored, grumpy and sleepy all at the same time.

“Hajime?!”

[mixelation]

starting a new thread for reborn au from this one

the beginning of the exam :)

Deidara woke up in a surprisingly good mood. The start of the exam meant he’d have an opportunity to do something with all his pent up energy. Set some fires, blow up some things. It could be fun, even if Iwa was annoying them. 

His mood was immediately ruined by one of the Taki genin hogging their bathroom, and then by the front desk still denying them weapons. 

“You don’t need them for the first stage,” the Iwa-nin insisted. “If you pass, you’ll be given weapons at the beginning of the next stage.”

Kushina’s fist clenched, and a few strands of hair twitched. Deidara would pay money to see her go full Red Hot Habanero on this guy. 

“We were promised them at the start of the exam,” she insisted. “We were invited here as a show of good will. Why are you discriminating against my team?”

The Iwa-nin just held her gaze. “I’m just doing as I’m told, ma’am.”

Typical Iwa-nin. Not a creative or unique thought in his head. Deidara didn’t remember this guy, but he hated him. 

Unfortunately, Tori stepped in before Kushina could lose her temper. “When’s the next stage?”

“When the first stage ends,” the Iwa-nin replied. 

“But where do we go? Will someone find us?” Tori pressed. 

Deidara zoned out as she needled him. One of the benefits of having nerds like Tori and Itachi on his team was that they could worry about all the boring details. 

Breakfast was a lot of fruit, which at least looked decent, along with some salted meat and very hard bread. They also had pine needle tea out, which Deidara poured himself an extra large cup of. 

Kushina was already wandering over to the Kiri duo before Tori had finished pouring her own tea, and Tori made an annoyed little hum at the back of her throat. 

“I thought you wanted to be friends?” Deidara teased. 

“I think he’s… too friendly,” Tori bemoaned. “Oh well.”

“Okay,” Deidara announced conspiratorially as he set his tray down next to Mangetsu’s. “First stage they told us we don’t need weapons, so it’s probably combat-free. But second stage… I say we get rid of the idiots hogging our bathroom, yeah.”

Mangetsu laughed. “Deal,” he said, showing off his horrid pointed teeth. 

A group of Iwa-nin took them back up to the same building where they’d done their security check. They were then left in a waiting area as Iwa genin slowly filtered in in pairs and trios. Both Kushina and Kisame disappeared at some point, but Deidara barely noticed because he was fixated on one genin in particular. 

Kurotsuchi, granddaughter of Oonoki and next in line to inherit his title, was in this exam. She sat perched on the back of one of the few chairs scattered around the room, chatting with two other Iwa-nin that Deidara assumed was her team. He didn’t recognize either of them; they were both in their mid-teens, and Deidara assumed they were assigned specifically to fill in Kurotsuchi’s team. 

Deidara had liked Kurotsuchi, before. She was a chill person who thought his art was cool even if she never really got it, and she was willing to get him out of trouble when he “disobeyed orders” and “broke important rules.”

She was also an incredibly spoiled little thing. She hadn’t gone to the Academy with the plebians; she’d been trained from birth by private tutors. She’d always had everything handed to her, never having to do her own chores or take shitty D-ranks. Deidara hadn’t even been on her radar until he’d made Jounin and had his own reputation in the village, so he hadn’t met her until they were both teenagers. 

Kurotsuchi had once confessed to him that she used to look down on other shinobi, who didn’t grow up with all the special training she did. She hadn’t realized it didn’t make her special or better until she was a chunin and was running missions with shinobi that were just as good if not more skilled than her. He didn’t know what she’d be like as an eleven-year-old; he suspected he wouldn’t like her. 

He didn’t think she’d be much to worry about, in terms of the exam. Kurotsuchi was talented and well-trained, which would make her a standout among a more normal group of shinobi, but she wasn’t the screaming genius he or Itachi were. Tori might have to be careful, but… 

“What?” Itachi asked, following his gaze. “Ah.”

Deidara thought about hitting him. No way he recognized her; he had to just be pretending to preserve how smart he was. 

“Oh!” Tori exclaimed, like she also recognized her. 

“Who is that?” Mangetsu asked, dropping his voice. Like they would just tell him–

“She’s the Tsuchikage’s granddaughter,” Tori supplied. Mangetsu blinked at her in surprise.

Goddammit, Tori, Deidara thought. 

Tori turned to Deidara curiously. “Do you think she’ll be a problem?”

“I’m not an Iwa expert,” Deidara snapped in a bid to maintain his cover, but Itachi just raised his eyebrows at him like he was stupid. Which he wasn’t– he just had a cover story to stick to, why did Itachi have to– ugh! “Look, Iwa’s not like Konoha or Kiri. Tsuchikage is a hereditary title. They all expect her to be the next one; they’ll have given her all sorts of special training, regardless of how talented she is or isn’t, yeah.”

“Oooh,” Mangetsu said, turning to give her another one-over. He then much more subtly watched Tori out of the corner of his eye for a reaction. 

Tori did not seem to notice, scanning the room and taking in the other entrants. Deidara was easily the youngest person here. Most people were in the range of fourteen to sixteen, which reflected the average age of promotion at fifteen. There weren’t any adults; if you got into your late teens and wanted a chunin promotion, you basically had to do it within your village’s internal mechanisms. The exams were for showing off new, young people. 

Mangetsu pouted. 

Eventually they were funneled into a line, at the end of which a bored looking Iwa chunin handed each one of them a form. 

“It’s a liability waiver,” he said. “All exams have them. Don’t worry, it’s basic stuff.”

Tori, ex-secretary extraordinaire, became the first person in line to attempt to read the three page document of tiny text. 

“Could you hurry up?” the chunin asked. “You’re holding up the line.”

“You cannot honestly expect me to sign something I haven’t read,” Tori replied. 

Next to her, Itachi’s eyes flickered red as he flipped through the pages. 

“It’s fine,” he concluded. “Tori, you can sign it.”

“Well,” Tori said, sounding annoyed, “can I get a copy for my records?”

“No,” the Iwa-nin replied flatly as Mangetsu snorted with laughter. “Sign it now or forfeit your exam.”

Tori signed it, although she looked incredibly unhappy about it. 

“If a ninja tells you not to worry, you should worry,” Tori grumbled as another chunin directed them down a hallway. 

“I read it, it’s fine,” Itachi told her. “If you’re that upset, I can recite it to you.”

He only got through one line before they were being ushered into a small briefings room. Mangetsu, who’d been trailing behind them, was directed to a different one. Each of them were handed a thin, short scroll, the kind you could tie to an animal or swallow in an emergency. Each was capped with a different color. 

“Spread out,” one of the three chunin in their room commanded. They complied. Well, Deidra stayed where he was; Itachi took several steps back from him, and Tori retreated all the way to a corner. “Open your scroll and memorize it. Do not say anything or communicate with your teammates.”

Deidara’s was a string of coordinates. Easy. 

“You will each follow one of us,” the chunin commanded after a few minutes. 

They separated them. 

Interesting, Deidara thought as he was led into an empty room. He was instructed to sit, and then the chunin tied his hands to the chair. Very interesting. 

“The first stage of this exam is traditionally an information gathering exercise,” the chunin told him, dead serious. “This year, we have elected to test your ability to keep the information you’ve gathered confidential. The waiver you signed authorized the use of torture.”

“It’s fine,” Deidara mocked Itachi in his mind. Asshole. 

“Okay,” Deidara said, grinning cheekily up at the proctor. “Bring it on, then.”

They didn’t actually torture him. Or, rather, they just left him alone for an hour and turned the AC up really high. He heard several muffled screams from both neighboring rooms, which would maybe freak some genin out. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone back for a second cup of tea… 

Eventually the guy came back and started asking Deidara questions. Deidara didn’t think this was a very good interrogation, and he gave a lot of smartass answers. The guy had a lightning jutsu he used for a few mild shocks, but it wasn’t really what Deidara would classify as torture. 

The proctor went away again. Deidara’s bladder situation was getting kind of dire… should he just escape, or would they count that as a fail? Decisions, decisions. 

Eventually, the proctor came back with a napkin in his hand. As he shut the door behind him, the screams next door got louder.

“Your teammate is on the brink of talking,” he said. “But I’ll give you a deal. If you talk, you’ll pass. No questions asked.”

Deidara cocked his head to the side. “Not really the point of this test, is it?” he asked. 

“Alright, I’ll explain,” the proctor said. “If none of you had talked, you would have passed. But…” 

He opened the napkin in his hand. It contained a bloody tooth. 

“The girl on your team got a more enthusiastic interrogator. She’s going to talk at any second, so you’re basically screwed,” He shoved the gross tooth under Deidara’s nose. “But I have a bet with her interrogator that I’d get you to talk first. Help me out, and I can convince my superior to let you into the next stage of the exam.”

Deidara leaned back in his seat so he could make eye contact with the chunin. 

“Is that all?” he asked. 

“Yes, that’s all you have to do to pass,” the interrogator confirmed. The screams next door kept going. 

“No,” Deidara said, letting a grin spread over his face. “Is that all you did to Tori? Because if it is, that’s not even close to enough to break her, yeah.”

He was pretty sure the streaming was on a loop, anyway. Kiddy shit, honestly. 

xXx

“The waiver you signed authorized the use of torture,” the proctor informed Itachi. 

“No, it didn’t,” Itachi replied. 

The waiver had been the standard rigamarole that Konoha couldn’t start a war over him being killed or maimed as part of regular exam activities, with the understanding that Iwa had a responsibility to his safety, health, and wellbeing outside of explicit exam activities, as well as a clause about Iwa not assigning unusually cruel or difficult tasks. It honestly was only a page’s worth of text; they’d shrunk the font and repeated it five times over for the illusion of length to deter examinees from reading it. 

Maybe he should have let Tori read it… oh well, she’d be fine. 

The proctor seemed unsure what to do with this statement, as he then just left. Rude. 

They started recordings of a lot of screams in neighboring rooms. Itachi’s nose itched. He slipped  a hand free of his restraints and scratched it, then replaced his hand. Sometime later his proctor returned. 

With a twitch of his fingers, the proctor was in his genjutsu and explaining the parameters of… whatever this was. 

“So an escape counts as a pass?” Itachi verified. 

“Yes.”

Itachi walked out of the room. 

xXx

“Oooh, the prisoner’s dilemma,” Tori said. “How fun. So we all pass if none of us say anything, but you’re going to tell me I’ll pass if I talk and my teammate’s don’t?”

The proctor looked vaguely taken aback. Just a little; Iwa-nin were pretty good at hiding their emotions. 

“How does this work for solo entrants?” Tori asked, wondering what they were making Mangetsu do right now. 

The proctor walked right out and left her for a very long time. The room got significantly colder, and the muffled screams got louder. Tori stretched out her legs in front of her and eyed her toe nails. She should have let Kushina paint them green… 

This was pretty uncomfortable. And boring. And twice the fake proctor came in and shocked her with a device in his hand, promising it would only get worse. Would other genin think this was torture? 

The proctor came back with a bloody tooth and said it was Deidara’s.  

Tori raised her eyebrows. “From which mouth?”

The proctor was struggling more and more to control his face. What a horrible fake interrogator.  “The one in his head.”

This obviously wasn’t Deidara’s tooth for several reasons, one of which being that the building was still standing, and the main one being that Tori was pretty sure that it wasn't even a real tooth. 

So how did she pass? She obviously wasn’t supposed to do what the interrogator wanted her to do and hand over the list of names she had, even as the interrogator promised she'd pass if she just talked before Deidara or Itachi as a favor to the proctor. Did she just have to hang out for a certain period of time, or give a speech about how she would never yield? The desk-nin said they’d get an hour break for lunch, and that someone would find them then and they’d have their weapons by the time the second stage started at noon, so they had to be done by eleven… 

“....no,” she said when the interrogator was done with his lie about winning a bet. Then much more firmly she repeated, “No.”

“Your teammate is going to break anyway,” he said, hilariously dire. 

“No, he’s not,” Tori replied. “And neither is Itachi, and neither am I. You’re wasting everyone’s time. Doesn’t the next stage start at noon?”

The Iwa-nin paused. He frowned.

“Who told you that?”

“I’m not supposed to talk,” Tori said, smiling benignly. 

A very pained look flashed across the proctor's face, and then he left. Around fifteen minutes later, a woman showed up to untie her and tell her passed. 

Tori was led into a cafeteria for their promised meal break, where Itachi found her immediately.

“You could have just escaped,” he told her. “I had to talk to Mangetsu for an hour without you.”

“Sorry?” Tori replied. 

“Tori!” Mangetsu yelled from a seat at one of the long tables in the room. He waved enthusiastically at her. 

“Sorry,” Tori repeated. 

Deidara showed up a few minutes later. Probably only about two-thirds the entrants had passed, and they were able to spread out over the tables. 

“What’s a normal pass rate?” Tori asked. “Is this high? It seems like that was too easy. Also, Mangetsu, what did they make you do?”

Mangetsu had no idea. They’d given him three scrolls and the spiel about having authorized torture, and then he’d just left. 

“Is the best way to avoid revealing info to just leave?” he said when Tori expressed surprise at how quickly he’d made this decision. 

“Gods,” Deidara said, craning his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I should have just left, yeah. I almost pissed myself.” 

“Why didn’t you leave?” Itachi asked. “Surely you could escape a test meant for a genin. Or did you not think of it?”

Tori sighed and moved down one seat away from them as Deidara threw a punch at Itachi. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t currently have clay on him. 

[iwaoiness]

— omegaverse

The K-drama continues playing on the television until Iwaizumi picks up the remote from the table to turn it off. Now, only the soft hum of the ceiling fan can be heard as Hajime gazes at Tooru, fast asleep on the couch. His lips curve into a tender smile before he sets the remote back in place and crouches down beside the sofa. Lovingly, he watches his husband's peaceful face.

Tooru is lying on his back, head tilted slightly on the pillow. His bangs are pulled back by a headband, and his glasses sit slightly askew. Iwaizumi carefully removes them, folding the arms of the glasses before placing them on the table. His cheeks are gently flushed, and when Hajime softly brushes them with his knuckles, he feels the warmth. His lips are parted, his breathing calm, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. The room still carries the familiar blend of their scents: Tooru’s vanilla and peach intertwined with Hajime’s traces of sandalwood and pine.

But he knows that soon there will be a hint of baby powder in that mix.

Hajime’s gaze drops to Tooru’s stomach, peeking shamelessly from beneath his faded NASA shirt. One of Tooru’s hands rests there, over the five-month bump cradling new life—their little puppy.

With care, Hajime places his own hand over the rounded belly, his fingers brushing against Tooru’s. Gently, he rubs his thumb across the skin, feeling warmth coil tightly in his chest at the simple truth that they really, really, are going to be parents.

“Our little princess,” Hajime’s sweet smile widens as he leans down to press a soft kiss near Tooru’s navel. “Grow strong and healthy, okay? Thanks for letting papá sleep so much—maybe this will finally help him get a decent sleep schedule.” He whispers against the skin. “But don’t give him too much trouble, alright? It’s enough that he can’t wear his favorite shoes anymore because his feet swell too much.”

Then, just beneath his palm, Hajime feels a kick, as if their daughter is responding to him. He blinks in surprise before letting out a soft chuckle, planting another kiss right where the kick had been.

But, a moment later, Tooru’s hand twitches, and a soft whimper pulls Hajime’s eyes upward just in time to see his husband stir lazily, slowly blinking open his eyes with a delicate frown. Fucking endearing. Tooru’s sleepy gaze meets his, and his expression softens.

“Why is it that she always has to kick so hard when you talk to her?” He murmurs, his voice husky as he rubs his free hand over his eyes to wake up.

Hajime’s smile grows wider as he gently rests his cheek against Tooru’s pregnant belly.

“Because I’m her favorite dad.”

“You wish, Iwa-chan,” Tooru lets out a laugh, clear and beautiful, and Iwaizumi thinks (not for the first time) that if there is a limit to how much love one can hold for a person, he has long surpassed it with Tooru.

...

im not a big fan of the tradicional omegaverse cuz i strongly prefer alphaxalpha pairs but im so weak for o!oikawa and a!iwaizumi being girl dads tbh

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[feelyxstuff]

Fan Fiction Recommendation #3

Hey everyone! 🌟

I’m back with my third recommendation, and this one is all about the amazing IwaOi pairing! ♥ Before Sakusa and Atsumu came along, I was totally head over heels for IwaOi, and they’re still one of my top favorites!

I really hope you enjoy this pick, and have a fantastic day! 😊

(P.S. I’m going through a pretty significant change right now, and I spent the past few days diving into stories and getting lost in reading. Haha!)

Name: Conquering the Great King

Author: SuggestiveScribe

Fandom: Haikyuu!

Summary: Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

Rating: Explicit

Warning: No Arquive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Relationship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru; Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi; Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou; Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu

Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime; Oikawa Tooru; Kageyama Tobio; Sawamura Daichi; Sugawara Koushi; Kuroo Tetsurou; Kozume Kenma; Kindaichi Yuutarou; Azumane Asahi; Nishinoya Yuu; Kunimi Akira; Irihata Nobuteru

Additional Tags: #Alternate Universe #Alcohol #Smoking #Rimming #Orgasm Delay/Denial #Anal Fingering #Riding #Semi-Public Sex #Masturbation #Pining #Fluff and Angst #Friendship #Exes #Porn With Plot #Public Display of Affection #Hand & Finger Kink #Scent Kink #Blow Jobs #Mild Face-Fucking #Sexting #Nudes #Phone Sex #Dirty Talk #Light Bondage #Voyeurism #Begging #Power Bottom #69 (Sex Position) #Improper Use of Outerwear

Language: English

Stats: Completed 2015-05-30

Link for the fan fiction: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301085/chapters/7209029

Link for the picture: https://ca.pinterest.com/pin/572449802653344782/

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My thoughts: Iwaizumi and Oikawa have become one of my top ships, right after the classics like DaiSuga, KageHina, TsukkiYama, and AsaNoya. Their dynamic is just so captivating! I fell for them after the initial excitement of the first years, and their chemistry really stuck with me. 💕

I recently came across this fanfiction that is an absolute gem. The author writes IwaOi so perfectly, capturing their personalities and interactions flawlessly. The story is set with them as businessmen— Iwa is a dedicated editor, and Oikawa is in finance (from what I remember). They meet for what they think is a ‘one-time thing,’ but the chemistry between them is off the charts! The plot is so well-crafted and teasing that you’ll be hooked from start to finish.

There are also side relationships like DaiSuga and KurooKen (which I adore and totally recommend their side fics too!), along with a bit of AsaNoya and KageHina. It’s exciting to follow these characters through adult life challenges and savor the satisfying ending. Dive in and enjoy the ride! 🌟📚

My tags: iwaoi; haikyuu