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rxskomi · 1 year

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“Hajime, are you bored?”

The raven haired man peers up from his phone, instantly locking the device and pocketing it when he sees the concern etched across your face.

Shaking his head, Iwaizumi gives you a gentle smile. It only takes him a few steps to reach you. “No, just checking my emails.”

Unconvinced, you rest a palm across his chest. It wasn’t like you had forced the to come man out with you. Ever the attentive boyfriend, Iwaizumi had made it his mission to spend some time with you after a hectic few weeks of work - even if that meant spending the day following you into countless stores.

“Are you sure? I know this isn’t really your thing.” you mumble, gesturing lamely at the store.

“Baby, no.” he plants a soft kiss on your temple. “I love spending time with you. Even if it means becoming your personal bag holder.” Iwaizumi lifts an arm, biceps curling as he lifts a plethora of shopping bags with ease, 90% of the contents belonging to you.

He watches the way your eyes draw towards his muscle and with the tiniest lift of his lips, he whispers. “I’m starting to think you only bring me along so you can have me carry your bags and ogle me.”

Rolling your eyes, you lightly slap his chest. “You’re the one who always insists on coming with me and carrying all my bags.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow as if to ask are you sure?

Scoffing, you offer no solid denial, only a light push that does nothing to move the brute standing before you. Iwaizumi smiles down at you, endeared by the attempt.

“Seriously though, Hajime, I can go around by myself. Why don’t you go home and rest?”

Now he’s confused. It’s the second time you’ve tried to send him home and he’s racking his brain to see if he may have upset you somehow but he keeps coming up blank. Finally giving up, he decides to ask you.

“Why?” he squints his eyes playfully, “You got another man around to carry your stuff for you?” When you don’t respond to his joke, the raven furrows his brows. Calloused palms come to rest on your cheek. “I’m fine, love.”

And sure he looked fine, Iwaizumi was as tough as nails. But not even he could handle the crazy hours he had been working the last couple of weeks and you could tell he was close to running on fumes.

“Ha ha, very funny.” taking a hold of his wrist, you peer up at the man. “Let’s just go home. I think i’ve bought enough-“

“No.” He’s curt and the unexpected sharpness in his tone cuts you a lot deeper than he would have ever intended. You blink at his words, guilt, concern and a flash of hurt painting across your features. Sighing, Iwaizumi rests his forehead on your shoulder, groaning in what you guess is regret.

Your first instinct is to comfort him, so you do. Weaving your fingers through his dark tresses, you let him soak in your warmth.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I know, Haji.”

With a final sigh, he slumps back a step. “Shit, maybe I do need to get my ass home.” he chuckles half heartedly.

Humming, you take a step forward to reach him, mischief brimming in your tone. “Well if you’d just listened to me the first time I wouldn’t be here trying to calm down Mr Grumpy Pants himself.”

“Watch it.” he snipes, no real bite behind his words.

And in all your childish glory, you stick your tongue out at him.

Iwaizumi looks wholly amused. When was the last time someone stuck their tongue out at him? Then, he remembers who his best friend is and any trace of amusement is gone. “That Oikawa is a shitty influence on you.” he grumbles.

“Come on, let’s go.” you giggle, reaching for his free hand to lead him towards the exit.

“Hey,” he calls, softly tugging at your hands to halt your steps, “I love you.”

Despite the gruff texture of his voice, you would never tire of how softly those words would fall from his lips.

“I love you too.” lifting your entwined fingers up, you seal your words with a quick kiss to the back of his hand. “Now, can we finally go home?”

Iwaizumi smiles, fond. “Let's go home.”

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rxskomi · 1 year

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I too want a flower from the Suna Rintaro

[ suna rintarou ]

contrary to popular belief, sitting next to suna rintarou was nice.

you had no personal problem with suna. he was quiet, didn’t bother you much,

(that is, of course, if you exclude how you have to send him your notes almost daily because he believes your joined desk is more comfortable than his own bed. he occasionally got you a coffee as thanks, though, so you couldn’t complain.)

and most of all, he did his parts in your assigned partners’ assignments, which was the most important part to you, something you cared about after many sleepless nights of doing other people’s works and after losing multiple marks due other people’s carelessness.

however, on the fourteenth of february, you found the biggest flaw of being the suna rintarou’s desk mate.

it was barely eight in the morning when you strolled into your classroom, halting in your steps and pausing abruptly at the sight of your joined desk, sleepy eyes widening in slight disbelief.

suna caught your eyes and immediately flushed, eyes widening slightly as his cheeks reddened. it was unbelievably uncharacteristic of him to lose his nonchalant cool-guy persona as he grimaced behind the piles of expensive bouquets covering your joined desk from top to bottom, set on the seats and building till it was all the same level.

“i’m so sorry,” he muttered, sounding distressed. “fuck, i hate valentines. i’ll solve this issue as soon as i can, i promise.”

you only blinked again, then raised an eyebrow, an amused smile pulling on your lips. “i’m not sure i want to add my own now. oh, and here i thought i might be special.”

“yeah, i promise i will get this out and—“ he paused, eyes widening as he finally seemed to register your words before he turned a few shades even darker. you wondered how much the twins would pay for an image of him in that state as he leaned slightly closer to your amused figure, spluttering. “wait— wait, what?”

you let out a light laugh. “i’m kidding, suna. how are you planning to solve this ‘issue’?”

he groaned in what you assumed was a mixture of embarrassment and then frustration at the reminder of the issue before he set his hands on his hips, a familiar dead look in his eyes. “i don’t know, i fucking hate valentines. can’t we just sit on the floor for the day?”

you were sure suna was joking, but you simply shrugged as you slumped on the cold tiles with a yawn. suna didn’t have to think twice before he was beside you, yawning due to your yawn before he gave you a lazy smile. “thanks, i definitely owe you a coffee for this. god, i hate valentines.”

“mhm.” you hummed in agreement as you unlocked your phons, the mention of coffee making you feel so much sleepier. you regretted your decision to ignore the early alarms set with the intention of waking you up in time to grab a coffee for the simple favor of a few minutes of sleep and—

“[y/n]?”

you blinked at the call of your name before tilting your head slightly, meeting suna’s eyes. despite how he was back to his nonchalant monotonous self, you could tell something was up as you hummed again. “yeah?”

he crossed his legs, his elbow digging in his thigh as rested his cheek on his palm and rested his gaze on you. “did you wonder why i don’t care for any of these bouquets?”

you couldn’t help the semi-amused smile that pulled on your lips. “because there are at least twenty and you aren’t planting a garden?”

“no,” he sighed softly, gaze softening. “because none of them are actually from you.”

you pushed back your surprise at your feelings actually being reciprocated (you now owe your best friend money) and the sound of your frantically beating heart in favor of giving him a lazy grin, copying his pose. “i knew you didn’t read cards, the twins owe me so much money.”

you have never seen suna move quicker than he did to find the bouquet with your name, wide eyes softening quickly as he stared at it before he turned to you with an excited grin.

“have i ever told you i love valentines day?”

—

happy valentine guys! i’m sure i’ll regret this when i wake up because unedited 1 am pieces are never great but enjoy this b4 i (maybe) take it down! <3

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rxskomi · 1 year

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rxskomi · 1 year

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hey 🐌🦪

tumblr app updated today and replaced the account tab at the bottom right of the screen with the merch store

account is now only accessible on the dashboard tab and u cannot save your place scrolling on your own blog while scrolling the dashboard, a change that has made this app nigh unusable for me. i’m posting here because this blog has thousands of followers, please –get publicly furious about this! send emails complaining to staff! write bad app store reviews! this change is literally so evil and signals worse things to come, i really cherish the space and community this site provides and i’d hate to see it become half buggy and unnavigable tiktok/instagram knockoff #52 and half ugly merch store. thank u for reading.

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rxskomi · 1 year

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Kaiser VS Isagi

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rxskomi · 1 year

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Omi beach boi 🍍🩳

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rxskomi · 1 year

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wouldn't it be nice? - suna rintarou/f!reader (haikyuu!): fluff but suggestive at times, established relationship, talk of babies/families/pregnancy, committing to the bit is all fun and games until the bit commits to you, tw: light miscommunication since some of u guys hate that, let the record show this was NOT written for his birthday, i didn't even KNOW it was today ok, i will not be taking questions at this time (or ever)

You know exactly what started it.

The problem.

It was some sappy commercial you saw on TV one lazy Sunday afternoon.

You rarely even watch television—not proper cable television anyway—preferring the simplicity of streaming services in this modern day and age. It's a complete fluke that you happen across it at all while you and Rintarou rest sprawled across his couch in the afternoon sun, your feet tucked underneath his thigh. You wouldn't even go on to remember what the commercial was for; all you remember is the perfect, cherubic little baby at the centre of it, and the way that it made your heart melt.

You let out a long, wistful sigh once the advertisement transitions into the next. "I want to hold a baby."

It piques his interest. That stupid, completely unremarkable comment that you'd come soon to regret.

Rintarou pulls himself a little more upright at his end of the sofa, shooting you a mischievous look. His expression might seem placid to most people, impassive even, but you know it, and him, and all his minute eccentricities too well to be fooled.

"I'll give you a baby," he muses, angling his body over yours on the sofa with his arms caging your waist. You draw your legs back instinctively—hips perpendicular to your thighs and heels to the bottom of your bum—at the first sign of trouble.

Your lip curls, and you lift your sock-clad feet so they press flat against his chest, pushing him back with all the strength you can. He hardly budges, but you expect as much.

"Ew, Rin," you snort, head lolling to the side to idly watch the next useless commercial on TV as it unfolds, “gross."

Suna pauses, a hand loosely circling your ankle, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. There's a look that you don't recognize that flitters across his face. His grip tightens a little, his thumb sweeping down over the round protrusion of your joint and back again.

"Gross?" he asks softly.

"Yeah, gross," you say, pulling your foot out of his hold. It takes a bit of effort, because he doesn’t seem to want to move, but you roll over onto your side and wiggle out from under him to rise up off the sofa. You shuffle into the kitchen for a snack, and you feel his eyes on you as you go.

But that was just the start.

You’re not sure if you just never noticed, or if the universe has a deeply perverse sense of cosmic humour, but after that Sunday afternoon, it seems like there are babies everywhere you go.

And if not actual living, breathing babies, then it's all matter of things that are decidedly baby-adjacent. Itty bitty onesies on display at the store you two are shopping at. Sweet souvenir plushies at the Aquarium that are meant for little ones to hold. Diapers, formula, and various other baby necessities are advertised in the posters mounted on bus stops, on train stations platforms, and on flashing digital billboards.

And every single time, without fail, you see them when you’re with Suna.

And every single time, without fail, he looks at you and waits for you to meet his gaze.

You’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding it, honestly. But then he’ll always make some comment. Point it out. Make it obvious.

“Look at that baby’s tiny hand. I bet our baby will have my hands.”

“Can you believe that babies are really this little? Do you think ours will be this small?”

“If you were buying these for our baby would you get the yellow or the—“

“Trick question,” you cut Suna off, snagging the yellow pair of training chopsticks (complete with a little ducky on top) out from his hands and shoving them back onto the display he’d just plucked them off of. You don’t allow yourself to linger for too long on how cute they really are. “Babies don’t use chopsticks, and also we’re not having a baby.”

You continue down the aisle of the market, a familiar pain throbbing just behind your eyes that Rintarou seems so uniquely skilled at eliciting. Your face is hot too, but that’s probably just from the frustration. After a moment you hear his feet shuffling along after you, and the two of you finish your grocery shopping in relative silence.

You’re used to putting up with all of your boyfriend’s other annoyances and oddities, so this is just another one to add to the ever-growing list. But this time, something feels a bit… different.

The two of you stop at a vending machine for coffee on your walk home since it’s cold out. Suna has the largest of your two reusable grocery bags looped over one of his arms, and somehow while you’re digging for change in your wallet he manages to weasel the other one off of your arm and onto his own, too.

“There’s a coffee shop right around the corner, why are you stopping here?” he asks, watching as you carefully make your selection from the humming machine in front of you. You press the button of your choice, and a can of cafe au lait clunks down into the waiting chute below.

“The metal can keeps my hands warmer,” you explain, sticking a few more yen into the machine and choosing Rintarou’s favourite, too. His choice makes the same descent yours had, and you crouch down to retrieve it for him, holding it out to him in offering as you stand.

He blinks at you.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, shaking his head a little. “Hands are full, anyway.”

You balk at him soundlessly for a moment. “Give the other bag back, then!”

“Nope,” he replies, making a point to enunciate it clearly in a way that you know he knows drives you crazy. He takes a step in the direction of your apartment, and you have no choice but to stick the can of coffee he’d declined into your coat pocket and chase after him.

It does a great job of keeping your hand—tucked into your pocket and wrapped around it—warm as you walk, though.

Nearly back at your apartment, your can of coffee drained and properly disposed of, a little ball of fluff waddles past you on the sidewalk, heading towards the entrance of a nearby park. You and Rintarou both pause, equally confused by what you’ve just spotted.

Behind the amorphous little thing is a couple, maybe a few years older than you two are, trailing not even a metre away. You watch as they coo and fawn over it as is wobbles unsteadily towards the open stretch of grass ahead. They call it pet-names, and try to convince it to turn around for mom and dad so they can take a picture.

Oh.

A baby.

Probably a little older than a baby given the whole… walking thing. But it’s still so tiny, even in its big, puffy coat, so they can’t be very old. The hood is pulled up over the child’s head, and you realize upon closer inspection that it has—

“Teddy-bear ears,” Rintarou says, cupping his fingers over his mouth and blowing warm air into his hands. “That’s so cute.”

“Yeah,” you say with a soft smile, watching as the child toddles along in their fluffy little teddy jacket.

Suna must have put the grocery bags down at his feet at some point when the two of you stopped walking, and when he pulls his hands back from his face, you see how the tip of his nose has gone pink from the cold. He dips down in front of you, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you up-close.

“What?” you ask him nervously, a hand fluttering self consciously to your face.

His breath leaves his mouth in wispy clouds as he tilts his head to the side. He’s so close that the warmth brushes against your lips like an airy, indirect kiss. You wonder if he can taste the coffee that clings to yours.

“What?” you repeat yourself again, a little more insistently this time. You reach up and pinch either of his cheeks between your thumbs and forefingers—stretching the pliable flesh outwards in an attempt to get him to back off a bit. His rosy cheeks are cool under your warm touch.

“Do you think we’d make a cute baby?” Rintarou asks, though the question is a little garbled thanks to your grip, and your stomach clenches involuntarily. His hands, and his frigid fingertips, reach up and rest over your own where you’re still pinching his cheeks—though your vice has eased slightly.

“You can barely even make an omelet,” you huff out as heat rises in your cheeks, pulling your hands out from under his and looking away. “Like I’d ever trust you to make a baby.”

“People make them all the time by accident, you know,” he remarks, rubbing at his stinging cheeks where you’d been pinching him. “I’m sure I could do it on purpose if I really set my mind to it.”

You dip down and grab the grocery bag he’d taken off your hands earlier, hiking it up onto your shoulder.

“Why are you so obsessed with this stupid baby joke?” you ask him exasperatedly, following it with a long, aggrieved sigh that you can see as you breathe it out.

He looks at you for a moment, his brow pinching in the middle. His nose is still so pink, and it makes the green in his eyes stand out more.

You watch how Suna’s lips part, like he’s going to say something, but then they press together in a thin line again without uttering a word. He picks up his grocery bag with one hand and sets off in the direction of home, and this time you feel a little sheepish as you follow after him.

The apartment is quiet when you return home, and it stays that way as the two of you unpack the groceries in your kitchen side by side. You bought more than you usually would on a weekly grocery trip, all because Suna’s been staying over more than he usually does. But there’s a sudden frostiness that seems to have creeped in from outside, as if clinging to your coattails, and the chill has now settled between the two of you.

It makes a strange sort of anxiety prickle under the surface of your skin, tender like a bruise. It makes you wonder if half of these groceries are going to go to waste.

“I’ll shower first,” Rintarou mutters without turning towards you after he puts the last pantry item away and closes the cabinet.

Stress sits heavy in the pit of your stomach when he doesn’t look at you. It’s intentional, you know it is. Suna’s favourite hobby is staring at you—he’s told you that himself many, many times. But he doesn’t even spare you a glance before he shuffles off towards your bedroom.

You stand in silence in the kitchen, as though that weight in your gut keeps you anchored in place. You can hear the rustle of Rintarou’s clothes hitting the hamper. You hear the bathroom door close. You hear the spray of the shower turn on.

You hear your heartbeat. Loud and wet in your ears.

You’re being ridiculous. You know that. You’re all worked up over nothing.

This was all just some stupid joke that he was being annoying about in the first place. That he found every possible opportunity to bring up.

You aren’t even sure what’s upset him so much; uncertain as to why you being annoyed about one of his blatant attempts to annoy you seems to have caused him offence.

You curl up on your sofa as Rintarou showers, picking at the fraying cuff of your hoodie as you similarly pull apart every second of your memory from the walk home from the market in an attempt to identify what could possibly have gone wrong. You’re thinking about the can of coffee—left sitting, unopened and room-temperature now, on your kitchen counter—when you hear the shower turn off.

The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly as you wait for your sullen boyfriend to emerge, but when he does he still seems resolved to avoid you. You wait on the sofa, your fingers stilled in the motion of fiddling with your sleeve, anticipating that he’ll come ask you to blow-dry his hair, just like he always does.

He doesn’t.

The hairdryer clicks on in the other room, and the sound makes you feel sick.

“Rin!” your voice leaves you involuntarily, without an ounce of conscious effort. You sound panicked.

The hairdryer clicks off immediately, and Rintarou appears in the doorway to your bedroom—half-dressed and hair half-dried—in an instant. His eyes are alight with concern.

Your hand had flown to your mouth as soon as you called out for him, too late to actually muffle the sound. But it stays there as you look at him with shocked, notably-guilty eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you, eying you suspiciously.

“Nothing,” you murmur, your fingers still resting lightly over your lips, you avert your eyes. “It’s nothing, sorry.”

He hesitates in the doorway for a moment, and then turns to head back to the hairdryer.

“It’s just—“

He pauses when you speak again, one of his hands resting on the doorframe he’s lingering beneath—neither in nor fully out.

“—you’re mad at me.”

You watch his shoulder blades as your words hang in the air between the two of you. The chill in your apartment, unlike it had been outside, is only proverbial—but you half expect to see wisps of vapour slipping out on the edge of your breaths.

“I can’t figure out what I did wrong.”

Suna looks at you over his shoulder, his already vulpine eyes narrowing a little further. Not in irritation, but consideration. For all the strangeness between the two of you today, you can still recognize that much in his expression.

“I’m not mad at you,” he finally says, and you hate how relieved you feel at so few words. Hate even more how him turning back to face you makes the weight in your stomach lessen. That as he approaches you on the sofa you feel the air warm with every step.

Rintarou perches on the edge of your couch, a full cushion between the two of you as you sit there quietly. Both of his feet are on the ground, but yours are drawn up onto the sofa with you, facing him. Slowly your feet creep forward, slipping your toes under his sweat-pant clad thigh.

Suna’s head droops forward, and he lets out a breathy, wry laugh.

“What are your theories so far?” he asks quietly.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion.

He peeks over at you, peering up at you from the corner of his eye.

“What do you think you might have done wrong?”

You hum quietly, pursing your lips slightly.

“Well, I… I thought maybe I got you the wrong coffee. I didn’t ask, but you always choose that one, so I just thought…”

Suna clicks his tongue.

“Nope.”

You huff a bit, staring at your hands in your lap. “Well… there was that baby at the park.”

You feel Suna’s eyes on you, but you’re suddenly too wary to meet them. He doesn’t tell you you’re wrong though, so you continue.

“And I said you can’t make an omelet.”

He laughs a bit again, and you know that wasn’t it either.

“Are you upset because I said that I didn’t think you could make a baby?” you ask, peeking up at him. “Rin, I’m borderline militant about taking my birth control. I obviously don’t think you’re impo—“

Rintarou tips his head up a little further, meeting your gaze. Caught in his stare, it’s suddenly like your words die before you can get them off the tip of your tongue. Slowly, he reaches out towards you, taking one of your fidgeting hands and holding it in his. His touch is warm now, in contrast to what it had been at the park. He lifts your hand up to his mouth.

Delicately, he kisses your fingertips. His lips brush against the digits, over your knuckles and up to your palms. He presses your hand to his cheek and looks at you with the most pitiful gaze. It makes your chest ache.

“I don’t like it when you say that,” he says reticently. And for all Rintarou’s height and weight and sheer breadth, he sounds so impossibly small.

“Say what?” you ask him, and your voice is quiet too. Vulnerable.

He leans his flushing cheek into your hand, holding it to his face and closing his eyes as he nuzzles into your touch.

“That you wouldn’t have my baby,” he whispers, “that you don’t want it.”

You resist the urge to pull away. It’s an instinct you can’t explain: a desire to keep him at a distance, to always laugh things off, to make a joke out of very real feelings.

“Because I do.”

You blink.

Suna opens his eyes and looks at you, and for the first time you see the very real, very not joking pain in his eyes.

“I want that with you.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re frozen. You stare at him, completely still, stunned by his sincere confession.

“What?” you manage to squeak out.

Rintarou closes his eyes again, breathing out a little sigh. He pulls your hand from his cheek, folding your fingers down so they’re hooked in a loose fist around his thumb. He brings your hand to his lips, not quite a kiss but close enough to call it that anyway.

“Not right now,” he murmurs into your knuckles, lips brushing against you as he speaks the words. “But someday.”

You’re still so shocked that you don’t know how to respond. He peers at you, hand still held to his lips, his eyes more resolved than they are wounded now.

“And I want you to want that. But I don’t know how to make you want it too.”

Your heartbeat thumps in your chest, resonant and palpable. Heat has crawled all the way up your face now, and you’re fairly certain your hand has gone clammy, but Rintatou passes no comment even if it has.

“Do you think you could?” he asks you quietly. Sheepishly. Earnestly. “Could you want that? With me?”

You pitch yourself forward suddenly, and Rintarou lets out a little grunt of surprise as the two of you topple back into the sofa. You hide your burning face in the crook of his neck, that smells like your body wash and shampoo but somehow so much better, clutching onto him like your life depends on it. Suna seems shocked for a moment as he finds himself flat on his back with your weight on top of him, and his body is stiff as he processes it. After a few beats of your too-loud, too-telling heart pass, he finally eases. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tightly to him.

“You’re so stupid,” you grumble, your eyes squeezing shut tightly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The genuine laughter that’s hiding just behind the words. He hugs you a little tighter. “Probably.”

You stay like that for a while, basking in the warmth of Rintarou’s body and the rhythm of his breath.

“You love me though,” he says quietly, “so that reflects pretty badly on you.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, and find him barely holding in a laugh. You can’t help but laugh with him. Can’t help but enjoy your favourite sound.

Rintarou scoops you up in his arms again, tugging you into his lap. He presses featherlight kisses to the corner of your jaw, and you fiddle with his long, lithe fingers. He sighs, but this time the sound is at ease. His damp hair tickles your face as he rests his forehead against your temple, nosing at your cheek.

“Hey, Rin?” you murmur as you run your thumb over the space between his first and second knuckle on his ring finger. You think about the kid you saw at the park in the fluffy jacket, and the besotted parents trailing along behind it.

He answers you with a content, if not slightly curious, hum.

You turn your face towards him, and your noses brush. Rintarou’s lashes flutter as his gaze turns a little heavy-lidded. You can feel his breath on your lips, that’s how close he is. You inch forward until the space between you is almost completely gone.

And just before your lips meet, you smile.

“I do think we’ll make a cute baby.”

#YES RIN HAVE MY BABIES #hshdbdjdbdjd #THIS IS SO CUTE HELP #YK WHAT #IVE BEEN SEEING ALOT OF BABIES TOO #ON MY FYP #IRL #BABIES EVERYWHERE #suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou x reader #suna #suna rintarou #hq fic #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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rxskomi · 1 year

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blue lock + that one famous parks & recs scene

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rxskomi · 1 year

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Atsumu, setting down a card: Ace of spades

Osamu, pulling out an UNO card: +4

Suna, pulling out a Pokémon card: Pikachu, I choose you

Kita: What are you playing?

Aran: my nerves

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rxskomi · 1 year

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IM 20 NOW HELP? HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR/ LUNAR NEW YEAR!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME WOOHOO

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rxskomi · 1 year

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iwaizumi hajime • wedding bells

“wait- what’s that?”

the question was seemingly harmless, just a simple ask of misunderstanding and curiosity. but to you, it made your heart stop momentarily and you swore that you felt your soul dying and leaving your body to die.

“um, what? what’s what?” you asked, acting as if he wasn’t pointing right at the very obviously titled pinterest board of yours.

you both were snooping through each other’s phones, giggling about dumb photos or apps you both had and creating teasing inside jokes that would become meaningful in your relationship, when suddenly, he found the one thing that slipped your mind when you handed him your open phone— the wedding pinterest board.

you created it the moment you knew you loved him, hand selecting every detail that you desired your big day to include, even going as far as pinning lingerie that you wanted underneath your dress for him to rip off of you at the end of your reception.

it wasn’t unusual for women to go this, you’ve heard of it being a very common interest that most have when in love, so you’ve never felt insecure when showing your female friends or looking at whenever he sent you a text that had your heart bursting late at night— but you knew that men didn’t feel the same.

you’ve seen girls all over social media venting about their boyfriends calling them weird or obsessive when they discovered the ceremony plans, making a reaction of disgust and shattering their romantic girl’s dreams. you were utterly terrified of hajime reacting that way, for your relationship was practically perfect and you didn’t want something so… trivial to get in the way of that.

“this, baby. what’s ‘me n iwa’s wedding’?” a smirk quirked on his lips as he read the title out to you, his chest feeling full and stomach leaping with butterflies as he realized how much you loved him.

the cover photos were of floral arrangements on a long table outdoors, most were shades of both of your favorited colors and beautifully organized set tables. interested, he clicked on the board, ignoring all of your meme collections and driving his attention to your romantic interests.

“nothing!” you defensively answered, snatching your phone out of his hands but he was quick to grab it back.

“baby, c’mon, let me see.” he chuckled, his eyes flicking to your stunned and embarrassed face before retorting back to your phone.

you whined, nervous and humiliated as he carefully inspected each photo, taking in your preferences and custom selections.

most didn’t surprise him, having already known that you would favor certain colors and styles when it came to designs, but some were so gorgeous that he couldn’t believe they existed. your hopes for your wedding were high, leaving impression that he was who you were happy to tell stories of you both to your future grandchildren.

the ceremony matched every photo that was meant for it, proof that you had your little heart set on one idea. it was beautiful, he thought, and just your taste. but what really caught his eye, was the dress.

he could picture it all now, you walking down the isle in your dream dress, holding the bouquet you had already picked out with a smile on your face as he stood at the alter, teary eyed as he watched you make your way to seal forever with a kiss. your throughly thought out wedding was the setting, every detail he just discovered being in his vision.

“iwa, come on. stop it, i’m already embarrassed.” you whined before finally forcefully yanking your phone out of his hand.

he snapped out of his imagination as soon as your phone left his hands, the dress his eyes were trained on disappearing into only your eye sight.

he blinked for a few moments, trying to gather his thoughts on what exactly just occurred within a few minutes time.

a blush spread across your cheeks as you watched in horror his stuned expression. this was it, he was going to say something heart wrenching and left you crippled in your bed for days after at his denial.

instead, a smirk spread across his face as he turned to you.

“so, you wanna marry me huh?”

you rolled your eyes, although very embarrassed that the words flew so recklessly in the air. as if it was some big secret that you wanted your long term relationship to turn into a marriage.

“no, i wanna marry your hunky arms.”

he laughed, a genuine rawr of laughter as he crossed his bulky arms over his large chest.

you would be lying if you say that you weren’t looking at the way they bulged out of his hoodie.

“oh, princess. always so obsessed with my arms, aren’t you?” he teased, but his voice was airy and sweet, as if he adored you.

“sure.” you mumbled as you tried not to boost his massive ego too much in one hour.

you both were silent after, you contemplating whether you not you should delete the wedding board or not, while he stared at the floor smiling faint as he thought about how lovely that vision was.

you thought for sure that his silence meant something awful, that he wasn’t as flattered as he seemed to be or that was all he felt of it, flattery. he couldn’t have taken it as serious as you did, you were positive of that. no man did, not even your loving hajime.

the silence was killing you, the uncertainty of what his real reaction was eat you up with each passing moment until you finally couldn’t shut up anymore.

“i know it’s weird, and seems obsessive that i already sort of planned out our wedding. i mean, you haven’t even proposed and we never really spoke about marriage, i don’t why i put as much thought into it as i have been. i’m sorry you found out about it, i’ll delete-“

“i’m gonna marry you.” he disrupted your nervous ramble, although his attention seemed to be on anything but you.

you blinked for a moment, soaking in what exactly he just said.

“i will.” he said, “i’m going to marry you, y/n. and it’s going to look just like that, maybe even better.”

you couldn’t believe it, couldn’t fathom that this was the result of your teasing evening.

“and i’ll propose soon enough, don’t worry your pretty head about that.” he nodded, eyes still trained on the carpet. “but, we will get married eventually. this i promise you, my princess.”

tears welled in your wideded eyes, both shocked and utterly love struck at his confession.

“i-iwa-“ you whispered, emotions advent in your voice before he cut you off once more.

“don’t delete it. keep it. we’re gonna need it in the future. it’s not obsessive or weird, i promise. it’s so fucking adorable and i don’t think i’ve ever been anymore in love with you then i am now. stumbling across that will be the highlight of my whole life until it happens, and even then not even the birth of our possible children would top that.” he was looking at you now, starring kindly at you as tears started to fall down your emotion-ridden face.

he was quick to lean over and place his hands on both sided of your cheeks and wipe the tears away, smiling at you.

“don’t cry, baby.” he cooed. “i love you, and this is everything i want too. you’ll marry my biceps soon, and you’ll never have to worry about going without them.” he teased, sealing it with a wink.

you laughed breathlessly through tears.

“i love you so much, hajime.”

“i love you too, princess, now kiss me.”

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