#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 :)

[takes1]

Hi theree!! If you dont mind, can you write iwa, kuroo, akaashi having a major crush on cool reader who is very good in hiding her feeling

kuroo x hard to get!reader p. 1

hey!! thanks for the request! this was originally meant to be all one part, but had to split it because of word count/pacing. nsfw to follow, reply to be tagged in next part pls!

warnings. lite!nsfw, minors DNI

details. kuroo crushing on reader / player!kuroo / hard to get!reader / kinda fuckboy!kuroo / kuroo pining / cool!reader / karasuno manager!reader / flirty!kuroo / future smut / a dash of whiny kuroo / vague feelings / noncommunicative!reader / failed?courtship / 2.2k words - reply to be tagged in next part

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. part two here. part three here. requests OPEN.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a training camp?"

That was yet another version of a weak line you heard often. Emphasis on weak. The Nekoma captain lost your attention before he could even begin; made plain as day in a quiet sigh and the way you squeezed your clipboard closer to you.

All Kuroo noticed was how it pressed your chest up, real pretty in that tank top. It was the first time in days he felt an ounce of gratitude for the still heat of this summer, the lack of circulation in the gymnasium.

"What's the matter?" He chuckled, puffing his collar to get some air on his warm skin, "You shy?"

Guys that drooled over you, obsessive but ultimately bitter, made it so hard for themselves. There was nothing more attractive to you than a guy who just told you straight up what he wanted, what he liked about you, how it made him feel. But they always found it necessary to add extra steps.

You didn't have the time.

He followed your eyeline for a second, towards your team warming up, and threw a glance at his own. When he first saw you, he thought this would be quicker. The game would start soon and he needed your number, fast.

"That's alright if you are," Kuroo kept at this line of reasoning -surely the only reason you wouldn't look or speak to him- and leaned closer, "I'm into that."

The assumption was a little ridiculous.

You turned your chin away from him as if he wasn't there, then took a step forward, closer to the court, with a resigned hum.

A surprised, breathy laugh at the action. His brow furrowed a moment, not at all used to navigating around this kind of reaction, and finally understood that something was off. Yet, it still didn't occur to him that it was disinterest that motivated your avoidance.

A squeakity-squeak of shoes approaching, quick but heavy, didn't help at thawing your icy demeanor. He did notice that you at least looked at the captain of Karasuno.

Kuroo straightened up to his full height, shoulders squared at his mirrored rival.

"Kuroo."

"Sawamura."

"Is there a problem over here?" The subtle squint in his eyes let Kuroo know that he was suspicious of this bullshit right away.

They were a step away from whipping the measuring tape out. You rolled your eyes but it went vastly ignored.

"Don't know- you should go ask your team." Kuroo tilted his head, eyes low- threatening.

He didn't have the patience here to keep up appearances. Rival school was enough. Now he was cockblocking? There was simply no time to waste when he could already tell you wouldn't be so easy to crack. He liked your challenge, not Daichi's.

"Oh, okay-," Daichi's fake smile fell away to reveal a chilling scowl, "It's like that?"

Kuroo didn't miss a beat.

"Yeah, it's like that."

You cleared your throat, a successful interruption and deterrent: "He was trying to ask for my number."

His jaw almost hit the floor. He couldn't believe how blunt you were.

Daichi, delighted, laughed at Kuroo's shitty, rushed cover-up to hide how surprised he was.

He couldn't stay to keep throwing digs; there was a game to get to and he only had a minute to spare in the first place.

After you waved him goodbye, you turned around and walked towards the side wall for Karasuno's gear, all strewn about and disorganized. You began tidying up before the game.

Kuroo remained.

He stood still, dumbfounded that you walked away from him, at how easily you could speak, and shook his head full of growing doubts. He couldn't believe you didn't want him just yet.

Eyes locked on your pretty figure from behind, bent over while you gathered Karasuno's half-full bottles into the hefty carrier, he ran his fingers through his hair and prepared himself.

He was next to you, squatted down to help you collect every bottle.

For a minute he said nothing. He simply helped you clean up. You appreciated it only to an extent, because you knew it came with conditions.

One of the last bottles sported a message, scribbled in capital letters across some tape, 'DO NOT TOUCH' signed, 'TSUKIshima.'

The corners of your mouth tugged up at how quick he found the means to designate his own bottle. He really did hate it when the other guys drank from 'his' bottle. You sympathized with him, backing him up when he got uppity about the germs.

While they were supposed to share, part of that understanding was that they also shouldn't touch the mouth of the bottle with their lips (and most of them did, anyway).

As you placed it into the upper left corner of the carrier, where he often liked to put it, you smirked again at how the name scrunched up where he couldn't fit all the letters onto the tape.

"So you can smile."

You frowned. He was nothing if not persistent.

Sure, that alone was a turn-on, but it was obvious that he was ill-intentioned and misguided in his thought processes.

You didn't want him to feel like he won you over. You wanted a guy like him to beg a little. Step off the high-horse, get his hands dirty, work for something.

He clearly wasn't used to having to use his brain when it came to women. Guys like him pride themselves on how easy it is; they walk with a certain confidence, a coolness because there's no pressure to make accommodations in their behavior for girls they like. They can spend all their time playing shirtless sand volleyball and wait for girls to get in line.

When you stood, you slid the box of extra rags towards the water case with marked effort. He didn't help you with something so difficult- he was still reeling in the fact that you ignored him again, after he helped you.

If he chose not to chase after you, you could at least be the first time he got turned down so harshly. Both outcomes served in your favor.

He came to his senses a bit late. You both stood, and you had to dodge his unnecessary grab for your team's equipment.

"Let me help you with that, babe--,"

A scoff made him freeze again.

You shouldered the box of rags and balanced the heavy water case on your hip without so much as a word. You made your way outside to go fill the water case and dry out the rags in the sun.

His chest felt... tight.

Why did that hurt so bad? Fuck, what was he doing? Frustrated, he shook his head and walked back towards his team, at the end of their warm-up. He never had to work this hard for some chick's number, or even a laugh. In fact, since he never got turned down, he felt a sense of entitlement to -at the very least- your attention.

The fact that you wouldn't look at him was a unfamiliar mixture of sexy and cruel.

"Having some trouble?" Yaku's suggestive tone grated his nerves like nails on glass.

"Fuck off," Was a defeated sigh rolling off his tongue.

He sounded so gloomy that Yaku found the explicit discourtesy funny.

In your absence, he was able to focus on getting himself and his team ready-- he needed to worry about winning this game. He got the impression you didn't settle for losers.

They were all in position at the start. He took a breath to center himself.

"Let's go!" You shouted. Innocent, encouraging, with two thumbs up towards your team.

It was hardly audible over the constant noise level of the other games going on, but a sharp look still shot over to you.

He was able to dial back that momentary weakness by forcing himself to watch Suga instead, up to serve- literally anything, anyone else, but discovered his own unfortunate reality was that he could not tear his eyes off of you.

It made for a tough time. He had to balance his mind's bias (checking out just how soaked your little white tank top got from filling up the bottles outside) and the objectively greater value of keeping his head in the game.

Yet, his failure to stay focused didn't hinder his team's performance. He was able to translate his desire to an easier task; giving you a good performance.

You didn't have any distraction from it, the way he did.

So, the distance that the game called for made your heart grow fonder of him.

He couldn't keep digging his grave from so far away by opening his mouth, to put it simply. And more importantly, you could recognize how gorgeous he actually was.

Tall, tan, handsome- yeah sure, whatever. That tall, straight nose bridge? His high cheekbones? That dark, messy hair that just kept getting fucked up because he ran his hands through it when he was nervous? The way his jaw flexed, more defined, when the ball went back over the net? How the veins in his forearms grew plumper the longer the time ran? Anytime he touched the ball, really, and the sounds that left his mouth with each impact?

It got hot, pretty fast.

As you scribbled notes for your team's plays, the observations about how an opponent like Nekoma operated became increasingly more impressive. Kuroo wasn't the peacock-superstar you had assumed him to be.

He made room for his little blond friend, and facilitated his team with a kind of responsibility and restraint that you found yourself getting absorbed in. Your clipboard was the only presence grounding you for the last round, usually pulled towards your chest or covering half of your face.

Pearls of hot, dripping sweat made little wet spots on his shirt as he waited for the ball to come to him, completely immersed in the game. God, was he good.

It wasn't the most groundbreaking realization of all time, but it helped your opinion of him shift favorably. Your vendetta against his sly confidence began to chip and crack with every save, every slam, every hasty wipe of perspiration from his face.

The ball once seemed to find its way to you close to the end of the match, in a sneaky curve around the antennae.

You stutter-stepped back as three Nekoma players chased after it. Kuroo dove for it, slamming onto his side-- right where you were standing seconds ago.

He hit the ground with a loud and labored groan.

You watched the ball as it soared through the air, still in play thanks to his sacrifice. He scampered back up and joined the court again all too fast- it made you wish the ball had hit you so he would've stayed for longer.

The final score wasn't even close. Karasuno lost the second round 15 to 25. They were too scattered, trying out too many new things at once.

It didn't even feel like a real win to Kuroo, until he spared his thousandth passing glance to the sidelines.

And there you were. Finally looking at him.

A big grin overtook his face and he had to displace his excitement by running both of his hands through his sweaty hair. It's not like you were obvious, shit you still looked at him like he was the dirt beneath your shoe, but at least you noticed him.

It was brief, but it was enough.

You understood your slip-up just as much and broke away, growing warm at how one tiny moment could be so telling. You moved towards your team.

It took your knowledge of where Karasuno came from to understand that it wasn't a genuine loss, it was only an investment; getting the chance to work out these kinks with real competitors would serve them in the future. That's why you weren't upset with any of your guys when they jogged off-court. You held out their bottles and spoke only to the seniors when they looked like they wanted your commentary.

"You're all getting better. Hang in there," You patted Asahi on the back, who needed the extra reassurance, and nodded to Suga, who barely needed it at all.

Daichi clapped and rounded up the rest of the guys with a motivational shout, the third-years leading the way for their drills, but he made a brief stop to skim your notes.

"Keep your head up," You muttered, focused on the trouble you found in his expression.

He quickly grinned and thanked you- as he faced the exit, the concern was back almost right away. It didn't help having to move past Nekoma's huddle on the way out.

"Oooh, shocker!" Kuroo snickered, still giddy with pride, as Daichi walked by.

He wiggled his fingers at him with a jovial smile. They were almost nose-to-nose for a moment.

Your keen eyes caught Kuroo mouth a sweet and saccharine 'Bye-bye.'

Evil, silly sounding giggles under a bitten lip amused you, but you didn't make it known.

He was funny, quick-witted, and so pretty. You wanted to see how long you could drag this out. Ideally you'd string a guy like him along for the whole camp, if possible. Or break him. Whatever came first- all you knew at the moment was that you were down to entertain this.

☆VIP☆

@integers @yuchacco

please send: requests!

*i'm bout to crash out if i don't get something new in my inbox (aka; pack up and move to my ao3)

*reply to be added for next part

my masterlist

[captain-hawks]

SOMEDAY WAS ALWAYS JUST RIGHT HERE.

hajime iwaizumi x f!reader

wc: 3.4k tags: 18+ only, friends to lovers, pining, feels, smut, grinding, fingering, unprotected p in v, praise kink, protective iwa -> requested

“I hate this place,” Iwaizumi grumbles when your group slows to a stop on the sidewalk, the neon purple sign above the entrance of the club washing his face in a vivid hue that only serves to further highlight his displeasure.

“Well, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa elbows him in the ribs, “when it’s your birthday, we’ll all stand in a room looking annoyed with our arms crossed watching paint dry or something.” 

He pats him on the shoulder before striding ahead, following Makki and Mattsun inside. 

It’s been almost six months since the five of you have all gotten together, thanks to the demands of full-time jobs in different cities. 

You missed this. 

You missed them. 

Iwaizumi turns to you, like you’ll be his saving grace with some off-the-cuff excuse to get the hell out of Dodge before the other three notice you’re gone. 

(But you missed him the most, this you know for certain.)

“Oh no,” you tell him. “I spent too much time getting ready to bail now.”

(Though the idea of fucking off with Iwa to some dimly-lit diner with sticky, decades-old menus and watered down soda like you used to when you were teenagers is wholly tempting—)

He sighs but follows you in all the same, albeit the slightly begrudging drag of his feet as he mutters, “I feel like I should have started drinking before we got here.”

Truth be told, if it wasn’t Makki’s birthday, you also wouldn’t really want to spend your only night in town here of all places. But without much of a choice in the matter, and with Oikawa’s none-too-subtle encouragement regarding a certain something last week, you’ve decided to make the most of it—although you’re still not going to get your hopes up. 

—

Oikawa: sooo Oikawa: you said you were going shopping today for something to wear this weekend Oikawa: did you find anything

>>>: [image sent] >>>: Pick a color. I’ve been to ten stores. I’m over it.

Oikawa: well i’m partial to blue  Oikawa: but iwa-chan will loooove the black dress ;)

>>>: TOORU

Oikawa: :)

>>>: You swore yourself to secrecy >>>: Please don’t say anything

Oikawa: i’m just saying Oikawa: maybe show him what he’s been missing out on~ Oikawa: absence makes the dick grow harder!

>>>: I’m blocking your number

—

You’ve been friends with the boys since your days at Aoba Johsai, and you’ve maintained an impressively solid track record at keeping your feelings for Iwaizumi buried under lock and key for just as long. 

That is—until you made the horrid mistake of drunkenly bemoaning your unrequited pining to Oikawa last time you saw them all for a reunion party at Mattsun’s place. A party which happened to include Iwaizumi’s on-again off-again girlfriend. 

(They’re now very much off, permanently. As of the last two months, intel courtesy of the nosey brunette who has now decided to make your mockery of a love life his latest charity case.)

Now, Oikawa falls into step beside you, Iwaizumi shooting him a suspicious glance before he shoos him off toward where Makki and Mattsun are already leaning over the bartop to order drinks. 

“I told you black was the way to go,” Oikawa murmurs under his breath in a singsong voice, appraising your outfit with a satisfied smirk. 

“And I still don’t think dressing nice is suddenly going to make him decide he’s in love with me,” you whisper back in annoyance.

“First of all, he’s been in love with you since high school. Second, he hasn’t stopped looking at you since we picked you up.”

You blink at him several times, chest swelling with warmth and dumbfounded confusion, but any chance of a retort dies on your lips when Iwaizumi returns to your side. 

“You said you didn’t wanna drink tonight, right?” he asks, holding up a glass of what appears to be soda. 

He’s always had a habit of listening to you. 

Oikawa looks infuriatingly smug when he throws a glance back at you from behind him, wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis. 

“Thanks,” you smile, fingertips incidentally brushing against his when he hands you the cup.

He nods, something soft flickering across his face for a brief moment, though it disappears when Oikawa starts shouting your names from afar like a scorned lover. 

You try not to overthink the way his hand gently hovers against your lower back when the two of you make your way through the throng of people to find the table your friends have claimed, or the way his thigh briefly presses up against yours when you slide into the booth.

–

“This feels counterproductive,” you yell over the music to Oikawa as he drags you out onto the dance floor twenty minutes later, a few paces behind a very loud and equally inebriated Makki. Mattsun’s off getting more drinks. “Iwa will die before he comes over here.”

Oikawa’s hands hover over your hips, though there’s nothing suggestive about the touch as he casually urges you to follow the rhythm he’s already moving to. “You really have no idea, do you?”

You huff in annoyance, letting your limbs loosen up as you sway. “He’s not into me, Tooru. I don’t know what you think you’ve been seeing, but you’re wrong.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but Makki sidles up beside you with a flushed face and a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses on his head that he definitely didn’t walk in with, hands grabbing both of your arms as he pulls you deeper into the crowd. 

A tall man eventually edges his way between where you’re dancing beside Oikawa, an uninvited hand falling against your hip as he leans into your space and says loud enough for you to hear over the music, “That dress looks gorgeous on you, but it would look even better on the floor.”

You blink at him, body cringing with discomfort at the sleazy look on his face and the way his hand has begun to slip lower toward your backside. While you’re not opposed to dancing with strangers to get your mind off of the man who’s probably still sullenly scrolling through his phone at the table, something about this guy’s presumptuous touch sends you reeling with discomfort. 

Intending to catch Oikawa or Makki’s attention, you quickly turn, only to bump right into Iwaizumi.

His jaw is firmly set, eyes brimming with something dark as he pulls you against him, and the knot of anxiety in your chest immediately loosens at the feeling of his body heat sinking into yours.

“You good?” he asks quietly.

You nod, unconsciously pressing even closer to him, and he tightens the arm that’s wrapped around you a fraction. 

“What the hell, man?” The guy glares at Iwaizumi, like he’s ruined his chances with you. 

“You wanna dance with this guy?” The question is a warm huff of air against the shell of your ear. 

“Absolutely not,” you tell him, eyeing the creep warily.

“She’s not interested, man,” Iwaizumi replies. 

“What, you her boyfriend or something?” The guy sneers, clearly attempting to save face now. “Wouldn’t have known any better with all the guys she’s over here dancing with.”

Iwaizumi shifts forward, fist clenched. “What the fu—“

“Oooookay, time to fuck off now!” Oikawa interrupts, smoothly stepping in between the two men. 

The man looks like he wants to argue more, but Matsukawa moves to stand next to Oikawa, arms crossed, and it quickly becomes a moot point as he sulks off in defeat. 

Iwaizumi lets you go, though his shoulder remains pressed against yours. 

“Iwa-chan, how nice of you to join us,” Oikawa coos, ruffling his hair for good measure. 

Iwaizumi slaps his hand away, glaring. “Well since none of you know how to spot creeps before they become a problem.”

Oikawa offers him a patronizing smile, “We’re not all equipped to be the definition of scary dog privilege like you are.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Iwaizumi grumbles something under his breath before putting his arm around your shoulder and steering you away from the other three. 

“Thanks, Hajime, but I do still want to dan—“

“I know,” he replies, coming to a stop and turning you to face him. 

“So what are you—”

Your words die a spectacular death at the shallow bridge between your tongue and your teeth as Iwaizumi lifts your arms and places them around his neck, moving his own hands to your waist. 

And this time, when the vivid overhead lights wash over him, his expression is soft. 

“We’re dancing,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Like his fingers aren’t a burning hot brand against the curve of your hips. 

“You hate dancing,” you reply dumbly. 

The corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth tilts upward a little. “Yeah, I do.”

The crowd around you moves with vigor, laughing and grinding and shouting over the thrumming, pulsing music. But Iwaizumi’s hand just gently slides to your wrist, and he slowly guides you outward into a full-body spin, his eyes sweeping down your form. 

When you find yourself back in your original position, albeit a bit closer than before, he adds, “But I can be convinced.”

Your heart swells. 

You’ve always been attracted to Iwaizumi, endlessly fond of his dark, messy brown hair and perpetual scowl. But the years have been more than kind to him, his boyish teenage features of days long past now cut into something solid and achingly handsome in a way that leaves your gut churning with heat every time you look at him. He’s taller, and broader—though you try not to let yourself dwell on the second point much for the sake of your own sanity. 

And now he’s looking at you expectantly with his stupidly attractive face, a challenge flashing in his eyes as he waits for you to move. 

So you do. 

For a partner that claims to hate this, Iwaizumi doesn’t miss a beat when you start to move, falling into sync with the rhythm of your body. And all you can think is how the way he holds you, the steady pressure of his hands on your waist—it’s nothing like how it was with Oikawa. 

It’s borderline possessive.

Almost.

It’s a battle in and of itself to resist the urge to let your hand slide to the nape of his neck, to card your fingers through the soft, shorter hair at the back of his head. 

Your insides feel raw, flammable. 

Doused in years worth of longing and desire that have soaked you to the bone, left you shivering with want, pliant and porous with need.

And the audible hitch in Iwaizumi’s breath as you spin and place your back to his front is the match. 

The space between your bodies closes as you lean back into him, as he pulls you in. The aftershocks of his touch spiderweb across your nervous system without mercy. 

You press back into him, harder. The beat of the music overheard is lost to you, drowned out by the blood that rushes in your ears as his grip on you tightens.

“You gonna move?” he teases, voice a little rough. “‘Cause I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Your legs bend at the knee as you drop your body down just enough, ass brushing his thighs, before rolling back up against him. His fingers flex, and he curses hoarsely under his breath.

So you do it again.

Iwaizumi’s mouth is hot when it lands just behind your earlobe, less of a kiss and more of a labored exhale. You shudder at the sensation all the same, and he turns just enough to drag his nose down the side of your neck.

“Hajime,” you gasp.

He lets out a sound that sounds like a broken off laugh, low and abrupt and a little incredulous.

Turning your head, your lips nearly meet, the layer of saliva coating yours prickling against the warmth of his breath that breaches the gap. 

Iwaizumi, as it turns out, is a quick study.

He drags your hips in a rolling motion, rocking forward into you, mouth finding purchase where your neck and shoulder meet. And he does kiss you this time, a hot, slick brand against your skin, your neck, one that sinks in deeper as you breathe out his name again with need punctuating each syllable. 

You’re dizzy on your feet.

And he’s ridiculously hard against you.

Giving in to an urge that spans years beyond this moment, you reach back, dragging your fingers through his hair from the front. You can feel the way he shudders against you. 

“I think I’m done dancing,” you breathe out. 

He doesn’t misunderstand your meaning.

You text Oikawa to let him know you’re heading out, both to save time and to avoid being on the receiving end of what you can only assume will be his most smug look yet.

The taxi ride back to Iwaizumi’s apartment is quiet, but his pinky rests against yours in the middle of the leather backseat. 

He helps you out of your heels as you step through the doorway, his fingers lingering against your ankles as he slips open the buckles.

And you’re sixteen again, biting the inside of your cheek as Iwaizumi kneels in front of you at the run-down local roller rink and tightens the laces on your skates.

He gets you a cold glass of water.

You’re nineteen again, hiccuping and sobbing at two o’clock in the morning on the ugly orange couch at Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s place as the latter mumbles choice words about your ex-boyfriend under his breath. He grabs your wrist to steady the cup of water you’ve nearly spilled twice.

He leads you into his bedroom.

You’re twenty four and you’re hundreds of miles away in a one-bedroom apartment that still doesn’t feel like home. And Iwaizumi’s rolling his eyes fondly on the other side of the phone screen as he takes you for a tour of his new place, making a dramatic grand gesture to show you exactly where he put the omamori you’d sent him via post—on his nightstand beside the bed. 

It’s still there now, nestled beside a pair of reading glasses and tube of chapstick.

And when he settles down on the edge of the bed and looks at you with his palms flat on either side of him and face tilted with a smile—

—your face feels hot, and you choke out a sob that feels equal parts pathetic and cathartic as you stand there before him.

Iwaizumi pulls you into his arms, and his voice is strained as he says, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”

It suddenly makes sense now, the subtle, distant change in him after you received your scholarship letter what feels like a lifetime ago.

“And if I said I want to stay this time?”

You hate your job. 

Your lease is nearly up.

He cups your face in both of his hands, his low, rough tone betraying his steady gaze. “Do you?”

You smile, and his thumb strokes away the next tear that trails down your cheek.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

The shape of his lips mirrors your own. “I miss you all the time.”

And when his mouth finally finds yours, when he cups the back of your head and parts the seam of your lips with his tongue while you straddle his lap, as you both go tumbling backward against the mattress—this feels like home. 

–

“Is it too late for me to tell you how good you looked in this tonight?” Iwaizumi says from where he’s lying beneath you as you tug off your dress, his hands finding a home against your bare sides.

You shiver at the sensation, tossing the black material to join his shirt and pants on the floor. 

He watches it fall. “...I guess it does look better there tho—”

“Don’t you dare.”

He grins, surging up to kiss you, hands deftly flicking open the hinge of your bra as his mouth slots against yours. You nip at his bottom lip, taking it between your teeth, and he groans, drawing an equally needy whine out of you as he cups your bare breast and drags his thumb over your pebbled nipple. 

A little embarrassed by the desperation in your tone, you inhale sharply, and he presses an open mouthed kiss to the corner of your lips as he rasps, “No, I wanna hear you.”

He dips his head down, mouth closing over one of your nipples, and your body arches into his as pleasure dances down your spine. You moan.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth from your sternum to your collarbone before hotly kissing his way up the side of your neck.

You’re helpless to stop the whimper that leaves you at his whispered praise, and he knows it—you feel him smile against the curve of your jaw. 

When he slides off your underwear, and as you hook a finger in his boxers in turn, you nearly expect him to crawl forward, to lay you flat on your back. But he pulls you back into his lap instead, groaning softly over how wet you are as he slides two fingers through your slick, dripping folds. 

It’s so intimate—rocking back down onto the length of his fingers as he stretches you open, as his chest rises and falls while he watches you tremble. He kisses you hard, the sounds of your moans echoing in the back of his throat as his tongue scrapes against your teeth, fingers slipping and plunging against your plush inner walls. 

And for all that he’s rendered you hopelessly drunk on his touch, he’s equally as affected, his forehead dropping against your shoulder when you finally wrap your hands around his shaft. Iwaizumi lets out a shuddering breath, taking your skin between his teeth.  There’s a breathless conversation that passes between the two of you, his eyes briefly darting toward his nightstand in question, but the matter is settled on other terms.

Iwaizumi’s eyes burn into yours as he grasps your hips and eases you down onto his thick cock, fingers digging in when you keen at the stretch. Your cunt spasms, slick walls eagerly taking each inch until he’s bottomed out inside of you, his mouth pressed to yours as he rasps again, even softer this time, “Good girl.”

You find yourself worried for a moment that in this position, your trembling legs won’t find purchase in this molten sea of pleasure, but the firm pressure of Iwaizumi’s hands on your hips is a stark reminder of how very observant he is. He guides your body upward, enough that the head of his cock rubs against your aching entrance, and then rolls his hips as he drags you back down. 

“Hajime,” you whimper, rocking your throbbing clit against him once he’s buried to the hilt.

“Keep saying my name like that, and I’m not gonna last,” he groans, voice like gravel, cock now thrusting in and out of you repeatedly. 

Reaching up, you card your fingers through his hair and pull, bringing your mouth to his as you exhale against his lips, “Hajime.”

He cups the back of your head, licking his way into your mouth and deepening the kiss before reaching down to drag his thumb over your swollen clit. The coil in your abdomen trembles with the need for release as you feel yourself start to go up in flames faster than you ever could have anticipated.

“Let me hear you come,” he breathes out, eyes locked on yours.

The pleasure cresting inside of you explodes.

You cry out, every muscle in your body going taut as your climax stretches you open wide. And Iwaizumi kisses you hard, fucking you through it until you’re whimpering from overstimulation. He pulls out of you, the base of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit and soaking wet folds as he rapidly strokes himself, gasping when you replace his hand with your own. Hot ropes of cum splatter between your bodies as his hips jerk upward into your touch, his mouth halfway slotted against yours as he breathes hard and fast. 

You don’t bother going back to your hotel that night.

(You’ll take the afternoon train back.)

–

Months later, home is tangled up in these sheets that smell like his body wash and your shampoo.

It’s quiet mornings on the couch and laughter in the kitchen.

It’s slow dancing in the living room and kissing under the string lights on the tiny balcony. 

Home is here, with Hajime, the reassuring warmth of his fingers threaded into yours.

[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.

[flyingwargle]

fics that changed my life in 2024

the movie sucked me back into the hq fandom and with that, fanfic. i read an obscene amount this year (as evidenced by my monthly recs, haha) and some of them have permanently changed my brain chemistry. here's my shoutout to these fics.

note: some fics are rated e!

general

With a little water (and a little bit of sunlight) t. 25.5k. 19/19. onigiri miya catches on fire and atsumu helps osamu in the aftermath. i revisit this from time to time for the brotherly bond, friendships, prose, and imagery. this fic proves that nothing is stronger than family.

sakuatsu

particularities t. 5.7k. everything about this fic is hilarious - the prose, premise, realization, confession - everything. the interaction with osamu lives rent-free in my head.

Watching You for Love t. 6.6k. the prose brings me to my knees. the imagery is vivid and incredibly connected to sakusa, and his pining for atsumu is so subtly displayed and beautiful.

Hall Pass t. 6.8k. i still don't know what a hall pass but i do know this fic is funny and one of my comfort fics. everyone needs to read saeko kissing atsumu. you're doing yourself a favor.

point of view t. 27.9k. 3/3. one of my first fics i read with insecure atsumu and sakusa wanting nothing more than to love him. i hold onto any fic that portrays mental health tightly because of the different ways it's portrayed, and this fic showed atsumu's insecure side vividly.

frankenstein's monster t. 83.6k. 10/10. one of skts' treasures that focuses on ocd. i love fics like these because of how writers are able to use their experiences to write deeply personal stories by knocking characters to their lowest and persevering through it.

easy to love t. 145.5k. 40/40. i love everything about this, from the prose, character development, slowburn romance, and side relationships. this fic made me like suna and sunaosa (they were portrayed so well) and pushed me deeper into skts. the confession scene is my favorite, of course.

terminal curiosity e. is there anything i need to say about this series that others haven't said already? it honestly changed my brain chemistry, like many others, and it's my comfort read, like many others (my poison is laid bare). honestly one of skts' best treasures.

sunaosa

a type of hunger m. 9.1k. this fic influenced how i view suna's character, with his desire and envy, self-doubt and struggle with identifying his relationship with osamu. it resonates deeply with how i want to write folded promises, which is why it sticks with me.

somewhere to lay the flowers t. 25.6k. trans suna is an icon we don't deserve. i love the mystery, the characters, the plot and conflict, and the web of interconnectedness between everyone involved.

iwaoi

Lost in Translation t. 9.6k. this fic is untagged but the summary gives you everything that you need to know. loved this for the humor and amazing ocs. it's one of my favorites for being a fun read.

we'll walk the mile and change it (if we can) t. 49.2k. 7/7. a devastating fic where oikawa undergoes a procedure to forget about ushijima and kageyama but forgets about iwa in the process. amazing prose, climax, and resolution.

bokuaka

in the same room, at the same time t. 22.1k. i read this in one sitting and did not regret any second of it. first: bokuaka proposal. second: it's just so tender and fluffy?? loved the setup and aftermath. it continues to live rent free in my mind.

truth is such a violent force t. 41k. 8/8. such delicate yet impactful writing on painful themes. i love how supportive fukurodani is to akaashi and the eventual getting together.

other pairings

Common side effects m. 89.9k. 16/16. kuroken. this captures the monotony and depression of adulthood so well, and delves into different kinds of relationships in a poignant way. beautiful character development and eventual getting together.

[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?!”

[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

[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 🍉

[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.

overrated* fingering, mattsun's goddamn hands

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.