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kiyokostan · 4 months ago

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in my head this is how yn's moment of realization of her feelings for iwa feels like for her

THE MANEATER CHAPTER NINE: diet pepsi

masterlist

divider credits to roseraris

"Man, I swear she's the one who asked me."

Iwaizumi believes him. That’s the worst part. Actually, the worst part is this odd pang he gets in his chest. He doesn’t have the right to feel betrayed, and yet, here he is, feeling betrayed and jealous and pushing some random man out the door just because she batted her eyelashes at him.

He’s fucked. Iwaizumi’s totally fucked.

“Don’t care. Club’s closed, go home,” Iwaizumi instructs, tone cold and detached. And before pretty boy can respond, he’s closing the doors in his face and locking them, more than ready for this fucking night to be over with.

She’s in their spot, sitting on a milk crate, cigarette hanging lazily from her lips, in one of her ridiculous outfits. Iwaizumi sighs at the sight of her; her drunkenness is evident in the way her limbs hang from her, sloppily, like they’re hardly connected to her at all. He doesn’t try to convince himself he’s not worried. Iwaizumi’s past that point.

She offers no reaction as he pulls up his milk crate to sit beside her, she just pulls the cigarettes away and breaths out a line of smoke. “Rough night?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Fuck off,” she mumbles, but there’s none of her usual bite to it. “Thanks for getting that guy off me. I changed my mind about thirty seconds in.”

Iwaizumi squirms. “Yeah, I could tell.”

They sit in silence for a moment. Iwaizumi doesn’t move. He’s never quite seen her like this before. Quiet and solemn. Even with a drink thrown in her face she was blubbering and expressive and loud. Now her expression is straight and unwavering, her words a pitch lower than they usually are. He doesn’t know how to deal with her like this.

“I got into an argument with Kiyoko,” she offers suddenly, and Iwaizumi tilts his head to look directly at her. “Was my fault, for sure. But she wants to quit, get her own place. She said she’s tired of this lifestyle.”

Iwaizumi watches her face for any give or any sort of tell. But she doesn’t flinch or twitch and there’s no watering in her eyes and this feels suddenly more severe than any other conversation they’ve had. He shifts and pulls out a cigarette of his own. “And, to you,” Iwaizumi starts, flicking at the end of his lighter, “this lifestyle is sorta synonymous with you, right?”

She turns her head to glare at him. She looks tired, that coating of makeup on her face doing little to conceal the dark bruises under her eyes. “Don’t be a dick about it.”

“I’m not being a dick about it,” he contests gently, exhaling smoke. “I’d be upset too.”

“You would?”

He nods. “Yeah. It fucking sucks when it feels like people are moving on from you.”

Her head drops, and her eyes find the ground. “She’s my best friend. I was mean to her.”

Iwaizumi does something unexpected then. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it until he’s already done it, but he raises his arm and throws it over her shoulder, pulling her and her milk crate closer to him as he does so. His heart hammers in his throat when she lets her head fall against his shoulder. “She’ll forgive you.”

There are goosebumps on the skin of her arm. Iwaizumi can feel them, and he lets himself believe they’re not from the chilled, late summer night. “I wanted to go home with someone so I wouldn’t have to go home to see her. Is that pathetic?”

Iwaizumi swallows a lump in his throat. “You can come back to my place, if you want.”

✧˖*°࿐

She’s standing in Iwaizumi’s bedroom. She cleaned her face off with Oikawa’s micellar water and used his expensive face wash and moisturizer. She pulled off her fake eyelashes and left them on Iwaizumi’s nightstand, next to the glass of water and Advil he left her, and now she’s standing in the middle of his bedroom, wearing a t-shirt he pulled from the bottom of his drawer and a pair of sweatpants she had to roll up not to trip over.

His room is exactly what she would expect. Plain walls and grey sheets. Methodically neat and organized. Black wooden furniture and dumbbells stuffed in the corner. It feels oddly familiar, being in a room that is so him.

There’s a knock on the other side of the door. Polite of him to knock on his own bedroom door. Standing feels awkward, so she sits at the edge of his bed. “Come in,” she says, quieter than she needs to, like she’s afraid of getting caught.

Iwaizumi opens the door, and then hovers there for a moment. He looks like he has something caught in his throat. “Do you need anything else?” he asks.

“Nah. Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the couch though?” she asks, knotting her hands together on her lap.

“Take the bed,” he insists. He has an expression on that she can’t read. That might be on purpose. “You look different.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Different?”

“Without all the makeup. Less intimidating, I guess.”

“Sorry,” she says with a slight eyeroll. “I’ll put a full face of makeup back on, so you don’t get uncomfortable by what I actually look like.”

“Not uncomfortable,” Iwaizumi is quick to correct, and then he takes a step back, hand reaching for the light. “Goodnight.”

He leaves her in the darkness, and she settles into his sheets. They smell like him. And she’s not sure if she’s still just too drunk, but she sort of hopes the smell lingers on her skin by morning. It’s the last thought she has before she falls asleep.

✧˖*°࿐

She is awoken before she’s ready. The blinds of his bedroom are ripped open, and the morning sunlight invades her rest. She groans, and grabs the closest corner of blanket she can find to pull it over her face. “Go away,” she grumbles.

Iwaizumi chuckles. “Gotta get up, brat. I got you breakfast.”

She groans. “Don’t want breakfast. Wanna sleep.”

She doesn’t know what time it is and it’s hardly even registered where exactly she is. All she can think about is hiding in possibly the warmest and softest place she’s ever been in her life, and sleeping for eight more hours or so.

And then, the blanket is ripped from her, and once exposed to the cold, outside air, she shoots upright. Iwaizumi grins. She glares. “Breakfast, c’mon. Before my roommates wake up.”

That motivates her. With less reluctance now, she rises, and follows Iwaizumi to his kitchen, quietly complaining the entire time, continuing to do so as she devours as a bagel. Whatever last night was, it was just theirs. No roommates need to know.

When she leaves, she leaves in his clothes, her own ones bundled up into tight balls of fabric and shoved to the bottom of her purse. She wears her platform boots under his sweatpants and at least they allow her a few extra inches of height so she’s not dragging them along the pavement as Iwaizumi walks her home.

By the time he leaves her at her front door, they’ve returned to normal, trading insults back and forth like it’s the only language they know how to speak. But when she closes her own bedroom door behind her and falls onto her bed, she’s still wearing his clothes, and it all feels different.

✧˖*°࿐

Iwaizumi was going to wash his sheets. But he lies down on top of his bed, and notices they smell like her perfume. He looks to his nightstand, and sees her fake eyelashes, lying there with bits of glue stuck to them. And he decides to leave the traces of her there, for now.

extras!

yn rode home from the club with iwaizumi on the back of his skateboard

he went slower than usual because he was afraid of her getting hurt

yn and kiyoko has fought before but they always make up in the end ; yn takes it harder when she fights with kiyoko because she hates the feeling of disappointing her

iwaizumi had her ass up and out of bed at 7:30 in the goddamn morning

she was pissed

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @guitarstringed-scars @nbcvs @garfieldissocool @iheartpinky @mollyrolls @yogurtkags @yuminako @michivrse @19calicos @sunnyskiezzzz @bailey-reeds @staileykout @kitskasoboring @loverlunaire @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @alpha-mommy69 @acowboykisser @karasyuu @aquariarose @torkorpse @wave2mia @southernfrogprincesd @mfcherry @adorerinn @soulfullystarry @jaynawayna

#i absolutely love this chapter #yn is sort of jo march coded for this....#in a 'you will be bored of him in two years and we will be interesting forever' kind of way #just saying a bunch of angry shit to people she loves not exactly because she's angry just because she's scared #much to think about #BUT ALSO AYEEEE IWAYN MOMENT #iwa keeping the lashes & sheets (w/ glitter probably in them) because they smell like her and yn mentioning how his sheets smell like him #they're so “My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may kiss it again is stuck in my brain”#AND LIKE I KNOW THEY HAVEN'T KISSED BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN #RIGHT??#right...#also #they're very no. 1 party anthem by the arctic monkeys #okay ill shut up now #prepare to be sick of me #evil laughter

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anothereggy · 2 months ago

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me with this fic

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟕: 𝟐𝐀𝐌 𝐥𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐣𝐮

♫ The Beths - Little Death

And you say my name My legs support a little less My tongue becomes a little mess My lips are longing to confess, uh My lungs they catch on every breath My heart beats harder at the cage inside my chest

✰ 𝐜𝐰: mention of child neglect in the written part (starts around 2/3 in, at "I guess conbini food is the closest..." to "He doesn't know how..." if you'd rather skip that part)

⭅ back to m.list

It’s supposed to be a short ten minute walk to his place.

But suddenly it’s 2AM and they’re sitting by the river bank, so close that they’re shoulders are almost touching, a bottle of lychee soju passed back and forth between them, and Osamu is fighting demons; demons that tell him to cradle her face with all the gentleness of the world and kiss her.

He’s pretty sure he’s under some kind of spell. Why else had he felt like he’d been struck by lightning when their eyes met again a few hours ago? It was nothing, he told himself, just nerves from lack of sleep and stress from the shop, and certainly his twin brother’s nagging about her didn’t help either. Yer totally crushing on ‘er, Samu. Bullshit.

It was nothing when they made a detour to Onigiri Miya which was already closed by that time. He had mumbled something about feeding the cat and she had followed him closely, looking around in silence after he unlocked the backdoor and let them into the dimly lit kitchen. For a split second her gaze was bittersweet, almost sad. Osamu had wondered what was going through her head at this moment, but before he could open his mouth they’d been interrupted by a friendly meow from outside.

“His name is Onigiri,” he told her, watching the stray devour the food bowl they set out for him. “Because of his black and white fur. And because he’s a regular here.”

“That’s a shitty name,” she huffed but there wasn’t any bite to it, her fingers dancing across the back of the cat before they settled for some chin scratches. Lucky bastard, Osamu thought to himself before dismissing the thought quickly. “Why don’t you take him in?”

“Can’t.” He shrugged, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. He had thought about it, of course. “I live alone and spend too much time here in the kitchen. He'd be too lonely.”

“Lonely, huh?”, she echoed before she rose to her feet, the cat disappearing in the dark again, fed and happy. There it was again, that flicker of sadness across her features. Osamu briefly wonders if she’d slap his hand away if he dared to reach out to her, trying to wipe that expression away. He didn’t like it; it felt as if it ran deeper than anything he could ever imagine. Not that he cared. Surely not.

It was nothing when they didn’t go to his place from there either but to a conbini, not the one next door but one a few blocks from there; a lame excuse to keep on walking side by side, their hands brushing against each other due the narrow pavement. He had his arm around her shoulder for a brief second, only to shove her to his other side, the one farther away from the street. Whatever protective instincts were kicking in there, he certainly didn’t fight them. She teased him about it, something about him admitting that his company was so insufferable that she had a high risk of walking into open traffic to escape him, but she smiled while doing so. He did, too.

Gods and goddesses, her smile. Osamu felt his knees buckle. Must be the effects from Atsumu’s drink, nothing more. Issa love potion! Stupid Tsumu and stupid twin telepathy. He took a mental note to punch his brother in the face later tonight.

It was nothing when he grabbed a basket and she casually started filling it with her favorite snacks, telling him a story to each while he followed her around the aisles. It felt domestic in a way that made his heart churn, as if they had done this hundreds of times in the past already. Under the neon lights he could almost see her halo. When she pulled out her phone and started filming (“it’s conbini ASMR, people love it, you wouldn’t get it”), he reached around and grabbed her wrist, angling the camera towards them and she’d laugh and shove him away–but for a second they looked really good together on screen. He’d never know that she’d replay the video of this moment over and over again.

“You refused to try anything I made for the party and would rather eat all this store bought stuff? Man, ‘m hurt. Thought ya had better taste,” Osamu huffed when they stood in line for checkout, feigning offense in his voice. He wasn’t actually hurt over it. Well, maybe a little. She kinda made up for it by basically sticking to his side throughout the whole night ever since she and her roommates had arrived.

“Oh, shut up. Someone else is probably licking those plates clean by now. And I like the food here, it’s nostalgic."

Osamu didn’t miss how her eyes darkened a little, easy to miss if you blink.

It was nothing when they strolled aimlessly around the streets of Osaka, sharing every goodie from the plastic bag and rating it out loud, their laughter echoing from every corner. They lost track of time by now but it didn’t matter. She still had his jacket around her shoulders and her pinky almost wrapped around his when she insisted on carrying the conbini bag. Osamu wasn’t sure if this was heaven or hell. Maybe both.

When they sat down in the grass by the riverbank, she hugged her knees to her chest and glanced over at him. There was this lightning in his chest again, his heart painfully clenching. They wordlessly pass the bottle of soju back and forth between them and he’s trying–really, he’s trying–not to stare at her lips or her tongue swiping across them after she takes a sip, but he’s failing terribly at it.

“I guess conbini food is the closest I can get to the whole childhood meal nostalgia,” she sighs and looks everywhere but at him, as if it was something she was ashamed to admit. The box of sushi sits half-eaten between them, next to the last bites of some melon pan and a ripped open pack of grape gummies that she had grabbed on their way out. “And it’s really been onigiri for you the whole time?”

“Mhm. Our ma was workin’ lots of night shifts when we were younger, so she often prepared them for us till I was old enough to make them myself for Tsumu and me,” Osamu replies and washes down a bite of the store bought rice balls with some soju. They just don’t hit home like the ones he makes.

“At least your mom was around. Mine fucked off when I was still in kindergarten. Left me alone with my dad. He didn’t know how to cook shit.” She plucks some blades of grass out, her brows knitting together in anger and resentment. It’s easy to tell this was a touchy topic, one she probably barely talks about.

“So really all ya do is self-taught, huh?”, he asks, passing her the bottle, their hands brushing and lingering for a second too long for it to be accidental. She takes a big swig of it.

“Kinda?” Her fingers are fidgeting with the bottle cap, her voice getting a little quieter. Osamu leans in closer, as if he’s afraid of missing a word falling from her lips. “Mama Hanamaki taught me a few basics once I got into middle school. I hung around their house often. Still do whenever I’m back in Miyagi. I owe them so much… Sometimes I feel like I can never make it up to them for all the things they did for me growing up, you know? Birthday parties, clothes handed down from Makki’s older sister, letting me stay over the night when my dad was just blackout drunk. That kind of stuff.”

Fucking hell.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. Instead he simply takes her hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze and letting his thumb brush over her knuckles. She doesn’t pull away, and Osamu doesn’t miss the gentle tremble of her fingers, but he doesn’t comment on it. At 2AM you let the night swallow everything that’s unsaid.

It was nothing.

Actually, that’s a lie. It’s something when they eventually make it to his place. Why were they here again? His mind is buzzing, unable to catch a clear thought in her proximity. When the door closes behind them, they simply stand here in the genkan in utter darkness and silence, their fingers still weaved together. Osamu wishes he could freeze time, but instead he drops the plastic bag to the ground and turns on the light, watching her blink slowly, as if she just woke up from a sweet dream. She lets out a small gasp.

“My cap!”

Letting go of his hand, she reaches for her embroidered cap on the coat rack and presses it triumphantly to her chest. Osamu can’t help but bark out a loud laugh. The reunion between a girl and her emotional support item is enough to make up for the loss of her hand in his–for now.

“I guess my blackmailing career ended as fast as it started,” he scoffs while he kicks off his shoes.

“Whatcha talkin’ about? The condition was an apology, right?” To his surprise she hangs the cap back to where it was. “I’m not here to apologize. I’m only here to try the pickles you clearly must have messed up, dumbass.”

The ends of Osamu’s lips curl into a stupid, wide smile. Part of him had worried that she wouldn’t have a reason to come around here anymore once she got her cap back, and maybe that’s still true, but the fact that she’d leave it here for a little longer must mean something, right?

Both of their phones chime at the same time.

✽ 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞…

Akaashi Keiji the man that you are

he really shoved Cupid out of the way and took his arrow like "move bitch i'll do it myself"

it's not like Yukie and Makki aren't invested but they saw that Osamu is a good man and knew y/n would probably be ok on her own for a while (aside from her usual not so bright moments)

that, and they've already scheduled a gossip session in her bed for when they're back home

once again big shoutout to the Hanamaki family in general

in true birthday boy fashion Bokuto fell asleep first with a big smile on his face

Atsumu's drinks backfired a little on him but he still had half of his mind to give his bed up for Yukie once she returns, that's how he ended up in the bathtub

Sakusa didn't want anyone crashing in his bed so he's probably gonna lock himself up in his room once he finishes his everything shower and skin care routine

Sunarin, Yukie and Makki got banned from a total of 11 clubs that night

Osamu and y/n had a "yeah? how much money do you make?" talk at the checkout and were both a little impressed (they ended up splitting the bill)

now they're home alone and there's (probably) only one bed, surely they'll be really cool about this

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@brithedemonspawn @gigiiiiislife @yuminako @notverymarley @krissiekris

@wyrcan @kentocalls @simp-simp-no-mi @uncovered-mad-man @honey-deku

@yukichan67 @dailyakira @nu-suave @zq13 @morgan-lowell

@ellouisa17 @toges-cough-syrup @lovingjeankirstein @itsdragonius

@bakingcuriosity @nekomasmngr

send me an ask or dm to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

#in my heart i like to imagine the bouncer who’s bicep they would’ve snorted protein powder off of is maneater iwa #akaashi is such a real one #then sneaking off for hours on their own oh my god yall make me SICK (/pos)#smau recs

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