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chimielie · 6 months

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cw: a lot of discussion of suggestive / nsfw topics, no actual nsfw, nonsense

related to this but can be read standalone

Hajime thinks he’s getting the hang of this.

Yeah, you’re annoying, much touchier than usual, wearing clothing entirely unsuitable for early November, trying to get him to snap, but it’s been manageable. Only a couple of times he’s had to rip himself away from you before things went any further than he trusted himself to go.

He’s rediscovered the simple pleasure of making out like teenagers, keeping all your clothes on and varying your paces. Just spending hours breathing each other in and kissing slow.

He might even—might—add that there seems to be a kind of emotional benefit to this weird mandated sex break. It lets the both of you talk about your desires with literally no expectation and a lighthearted, joking air that eases Hajime’s intense inclinations exponentially. It’s not something that either of you would ever want to do any longer than you have to or even next year (you’ve been very clear that you see it as some sort of strange extended foreplay, on your end), but its been… better than he’d thought, in some ways.

In some ways it was still hell.

Still, as the days pass and he doesn’t die of blue balls, he starts to figure that this whole challenge might be really doable.

Hajime lies in bed with you, eyes half-shut as the both of you wind down for the evening with your new routine.

Your lips are soft against his, his left hand cupping the back of your neck, the other rubbing slow, light circles into your back. It’s gentle, sweet kissing, not the frantic and heated interaction of more carnal relations. It makes Hajime feel—

His fingertips are buzzing where they touch you, strings playing in his head, his head fuzzy with your scent. Content, like he could stay here forever.

You push yourself up on your elbows suddenly, smoothly, and settle your weight more heavily on his stomach, your knees squeezing his sides. Your pupils are dilated but your gaze is tender, and he can almost feel rose-colored glasses sliding over his face as he stares up at you.

“I’m in love with you,” you say, voice low and throaty from long minutes spent exploring his mouth slowly, excruciatingly so, like you hadn’t since the first months you’d been dating.

Hajime moans.

Loudly and unmistakably and completely involuntarily.

He sits up immediately, pitching you off of him as you collapse in a heap of giggles. His face is burning, he can feel it, but your laughter is surrounding him like a too-deep featherbed.

“I think,” you can hardly breathe, let alone speak through your mirth. He’d throttle you but that would only make things worse right now. “I think you just failed No Nut November.”

#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc #shorts!#you guys will never guess what just happened to me 🕺#iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi x reader #hajime x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #hq!! fluff

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chimielie · 7 months

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cw f!reader , iwaizumi’s pectorals , this post was sponsored by Big Adobo

you do it in front of the whole gang.

other people, too, but he never pays attention to anyone but his team at the gym.

mattsun is spotting hajime while oikawa heckles him (hyping him up, he’d say, but the music slamming in hajime’s ears makes the claim unverifiable). makki’s squatting beside him, sweat trickling down his temple, but he manages a smile and, when he rises again and puts down his weights, a wave.

hajime doesn’t notice, eyes trained intensely on the middle distance ahead of him, until you appear in his line of vision.

you look pissed, eyebrows scrunched together and hands on your hips.

he drops his weights. they land heavy, clanging against the catches loud enough that he can hear it even before he rips his earbuds out.

“what’d you say?” he furrows his brow.

“shirt off,” you say, pointing at him and flicking your finger in the air. “thanks.”

around you, his friends react with varying degrees of shock and laughter. you stay stone-faced, staring at him, folding your arms across your chest. you’re wearing a sports bra, like you’d just finished your own workout. sometimes you and he go to the gym together, but team activities are team activities, and oikawa likes to accuse you of trying to edge in on the boy’s team’s secrets, as though your own team isn’t reaching new heights of success under your captaincy. hajime feels his pupils expanding the longer he looks at you.

he complies, quirking a brow as he hooks his fingers in the back of his tank’s collar and yanks it over his head. you nod, looking satisfied, then hold out a hand.

“can i see your instagram real quick?” he bares his teeth in a smile at you, guessing where this is going, even if he’s not sure why. as much as you’ve danced around each other the last three years, neither of you have made a move.

something about the way he feels about you just doesn’t feel… urgent. like he’s just waiting for the universe to throw you together, for the right moment where everything clicks. he’s always wanted to take his time with you.

he guesses this is that moment.

he hands it to you, unlocked. you hand it back.

“your other profile.”

ah. it had started as a progress tracker, just a way to remember his exercises and maybe connect with others who were into that kind of thing. to his surprise, he had accumulated followers quickly.

a lot of followers quickly. oikawa called it his thirst trap account. hajime argued that he was just jealous because his beach volleyball videos hadn’t taken off yet.

he taps into his second profile, sliding open the camera function for you and giving you the phone back.

“good?”

“good,” you say, stepping into his space, over the forgotten bar, and for a second there’s nothing but light shared between the two of you, looking into each other’s eyes with pure fondness. then your lips curl into a coy smile and you put the hand not holding the phone on his chest and squeeze.

his pecs jump in surprise. you take the photo.

“thanks,” you say, letting go of him, but not stepping back. his skin burns where you touched him. he’s sure he’s gone deaf from the ringing in his ears. oikawa could be dead from shock behind him and he wouldn’t know. “my mom said you should come over for dinner later. she’s making adobo. see you then?”

“yeah,” he manages, “but tell her we’re going out for dinner friday. reservation’s at seven.”

“is it?” you eye him appraisingly. he pauses, glancing away from you to hit post on the photo. your phone lights up with a notification.

“it will be,” he promises, and reaches out to catch your chin in his hand, tilting your face back to him. “see you then.”

#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #shorts!#iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #i forrget what else to tag

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chimielie · 6 months

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wonderland

summary: didn’t they tell us ‘don’t rush into things?’ didn’t you flash your green eyes at me? haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds? (or: what happens after graduation to a pair of teenagers in love)

word count: 1k

cw: irresponsible decision making (but i assure you there will be no consequences), The Teenage Need To Get The Fuck Out Of Your Hometown, mountains of fluff, my usual Thing iykyk, excessive 1989-related puns

hajime’s never considered himself an impulsive person.

sure, he’s: headstrong, audacious, hotheaded. but he almost always has oikawa spearheading his more reckless decisions with wild emotional situations, a shield that makes him look like a calm, responsible adult. oikawa could make almost anyone look sane.

hajime is pretty sure even oikawa would call him crazy right now, if oikawa weren’t in argentina. maybe, for all his turbulent nature, his friend really is some grounding force; since he’s been gone, hajime’s felt on the precipice of something… big. earth-shattering.

“i just can’t stand it,” you say, head lolled back onto his shoulder, spine curving into his chest. hajime is trying valiantly to ignore the soft weight of your ass on his lap, even though you’re mostly sitting between his applesauce-crossed legs. he can feel it, though, against his right thigh. he is failing miserably. “it feels like everyone’s moving and i’m… stuck.”

“stuck,” he echoes, and you roll your head so you’re looking right, out of his bedroom window at the familiar landscape of miyagi. the sun is close to setting, having burned through the daytime clouds and casting a brilliant glow over you. your lips look darker and fuller and more kissable in this light, he’d thought earlier, right before he’d kissed them bruised.

“more like a balloon,” you muse. “on a still day. just drifting up, and up, and up, and the birds are just flying by.”

he hums, deep in his chest, in agreement. something’s felt wrong ever since graduation. you and he had stayed, and it had been what you both wanted at first.

but not like this.

miyagi without oikawa, without makki, who was rooming with mattsun in the city while the latter earned his junior degree and the former chased youtube fame, wasn’t what he’d thought it would be at all.

“it’s gonna be all ours,” you’d promised him, graduation cap tilted jauntily and smile brighter than the pure white clouds drifting above. “you’re all i need, hajime.”

but miyagi without the people you’d grown up with was empty, a melody that only echoed memories. it was you and him—and the ghosts of your childhoods.

“you’re not happy here,” he says. not a question.

you twist to look at him, eyes open wide. “i’m happy with you. i didn’t mean—”

“i know,” he says, kissing your pursed, worried mouth. “but we’re not happy here. i feel it too. maybe i’m crazy, but i think we need—”

“change!” you’re sitting straighter in his lap now. “every day is the same. i’m starting to feel like i need to do something insane. i need enrichment in my enclosure.”

he puts his arms around you and you draw yourself tighter into him until you’re cheek to cheek.

“do you trust me?” he says. you snort.

“what is this, haji, aladdin?”

“yes,” he says, rolling his eyes. in this light, they’re a forest, green and deep and irresistibly inviting to you. “do you trust me, princess?”

you nod, and he feels it against him, your skin rasping together. “of course. take me to wonderland.”

“that’s corny, too,” hajime grumbles. “don’t criticize my romantic gestures then reference the wrong movie.”

“whatever,” you brush him off. “how much do we need to pack?”

that’s how the sun sets on your last night in miyagi.

hayakawa tomoka’s job at the ticket counter is so boring. she sits there all night—during the day, she studies fine art—, a magazine propped up in front of her, arching high brows at anyone who hadn’t had the forethought to buy tickets online.

she does so now at the young couple skidding to a stop in front of her, suitcases bulging even if there’s only one each, panting for breath and knocking shoulders as though even their bodies are on a gravitational course to each other. they can’t be more than twenty.

“when’s your next flight to california?” one asks, his straight hair sticking up like a hedgehog.

“…where in california?” hayakawa asks, pointing her mouth at them. “it’s a big state.”

“anywhere,” the other says. “we’ll find our way to where we need to be.”

hayakawa blinks slowly at them. these new romantics are too exhausting to deal with at this hour. she types, click-click-click, wrinkling her forehead at the blue glow of her computer.

you stare anxiously at her as she does, desperately hoping for anything in the next day.

hajime tugs you into him as you wait, and you relax, turning a closed-eye smile up at him while he looks down on you with a mirrored expression.

“too impulsive for you yet?” he says, mouth twisting wryly. you shake your head.

“there’s one to santa ana,” hayakawa says. “the south. in five hours.”

“perfect,” you say eagerly.

“thank you,” hajime says.

there are two seats free next to each other, serendipitously. ticket prices are exorbitant, but not bank-breaking—both of you had worked all of high school at the café next door, earning good tips and waiting for something worth spending it on.

“okay,” hayakawa says finally. “your flight’s set, mr. and mrs. iwaizumi. safe travels.”

“thank you,” you say effusively, “so much.”

“you too,” says hajime, and then turns very red.

hayakawa watches you go, a rare and soft smile gracing her features as your suitcases crash into each other even as both of you refuse to let go of the other’s hand to control their direction. the night shift is boring. something like this shakes things up.

after a race—more like a marathon—through customs, hajime finds himself shifting in a plastic seat, peering through the blackness of the night for a glimpse of airplanes landing. falling stars, sort of, magic to be wished on. you breathe evenly, deeply asleep with your head on his shoulder, his denim jacket wrapped around you, leaving him with just his hoodie and the new band of cheap jewelry around his fourth finger.

his mother would flip if she knew how rushed his wedding was. next time, he promises himself, he’ll do it again with you if you’ll keep having him and the ceremony will be beyond your wildest dreams.

it’s colder than he thought it would be in the airport. the earth is moving under his feet.

you’re all he needs; he’s gonna give you the world.

#tbh i usually write hajime w brown eyes even though theyre green in the show im pretty sure. but it had to be done 😏#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc #iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #hq!! fluff #hq fluff #what if… i made this a snippet series. like their life as they figure it out as a couple married way too young navigating a new world #step one of the journey to irvine

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chimielie · 2 years

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cw: suggestive mentions of spit

Hajime knew getting a job was a mistake.

He’s lucky all his classes are in the afternoon and evening this year, so his schedule isn’t too rushed. Plus, morning baristas are in high demand, and the desperation of college students for coffee (and low quality of the dining hall) means that he gets high, high tips.

All jobs suck eventually and this is definitely no exception. Hajime’s thing is—he hates customers. All of them. They wear on him, and he can’t even snap back because his supervisor has it out for him. That may be because of the last two complaints he received for “rough language” but c’mon. Does he look like the kind of guy who takes bullshit?

Sometimes, though, it goes beyond bullshit.

“Sorry,” you say, and he recognizes you, you’re his roommate’s friend, you eat at the dining hall with them occasionally. Hajime accidentally told him that he thought you were cute last week and has been studiously avoiding you ever since. “I think there was a mistake with my order?”

Your voice pitches up, and normally he just wishes customers would suck it up and take their shit, but he doesn’t mind the way you ask so politely.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?” He curls his fingers around the cup you’re holding out, brushing yours accidentally. He blushes a little and hopes you can’t tell.

“You forgot to spit in it,” you say, and Hajime’s fingers clench around the paper cup, popping off the lid and scalding coffee pouring over his hand.

“What.” He says, dropping the crushed cup behind the counter and shaking off his hand, wiping it on his apron.

“Oh holy shit, I am so sorry,” you’re squeaking, looking around wildly in search of napkins, your mouth dropped open in horror. “I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have hit on you, it’s just—he told me you—I’m so sorry, Iwaizumi-san—”

“No,” he says firmly, cutting you off. You look up at him with wide, glistening eyes. Cute, his brain grumbles. “Don’t be sorry. I want you to repeat what you said.”

Your lips part slightly. Hajime smirks.

At least now he has something to look forward to at the end of his shift.

#shorts!#iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader

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chimielie · 2 years

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no reason

summary: Iwaizumi x Reader. your boyfriend’s not a romantic. he’s not. he’s too tough for that. he’s not. you believe him, right?

word count: 1.1k

cw: catfishing (i lure u in by talking about hajime’s ass and then i talk about feelings), bruce springsteen, literally nothing

a/n: i can’t stop outdoing myself in terms of how sappy i get thinking about this man. anyway happy late bday hajime you are the love of my life the fire under my ass the b

“See anythin’ you like, sport?”

You’re lying sideways on the couch, head very nearly dangling off the edge, scrolling mindlessly past ad after ad after ad. Across your tiny excuse for a living room, Hajime is squatting on his heels, head tilted to the side as he rifles through worn out album covers.

“Just judging your music taste,” his voice is far from pretty, rough even late in the day, but you like the way his words roll through the air. Better him than anyone else speaking, spartan and blunt though his sentences are. “I didn’t notice you had a record player. And I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“But it’s so funny,” your phone lands on the soft cotton velvet of the couch, beginning an unnoticed and inexorable slide towards the crack between the cushions. You drop your head, hair falling out of your face, a comfortable stretch assisted by gravity. Upside down, Hajime’s lashes are longer, his eyes greener, his smile mean. Maybe it’s the blood rush, but you like the way his canines look like fangs like this. “I like getting under your skin, bud.”

He stands, making an expression of exasperation, and you sit up, sort of, draping yourself over the tall pillows and sofa arm, eyes half-closed, trying to ward off vertigo. Your focal point shifts away from his face while he deftly slides a record out of its sleeve and placing it down onto the platter with an expert hand. He mutters to himself as he presses buttons, adjusting the speakers. You ogle his form, posed in a half-crouch with one knee down on the ground to balance himself. What? It’s there. You can’t not look at it.

There’s crackling, faint at first, then filling the space. Hajime turns to you, smug and golden. All the curtains are closed, but just the thinnest layer, so the daylight is hazy and warm instead of glaring. You don’t need artificial bulbs in these shining months.

The first notes sound, instantly recognizable, and he’s standing in front of you, so you put your arms up and without complaint he lifts you.

“This is Springsteen,” you say, quietly delighted. “You have good taste.”

“Yeah.” His hands are warm, still braced on your waist. Yours are on his shoulders, and you leave them there. “I don’t actually know them, but it was out, so I figured it would at least make you happy."

"It was my uncle's," you look at the record player, at the sheen on the vinyl as it spins. "He said it was part of my education, listening to him."

"And now you're educating me," Hajime says, stepping back, away from the couch, bringing you with him. "Passing it on."

You're dancing before you know it. The steps aren't complicated, not with Hajime; he rocks back and forth, not on beat and not even lifting his feet enough to step on your toes. The lyrics wash over the two of you, half-understandable, the piano and percussion triumphant and nostalgic behind them. You smile, close-lipped but stretched wide, and press your face into his neck, inhaling deeply. His skin and cleanly bodywash, layered with notes of the smokey incense-and-dust of the work he does and the air of the room. You wake up with that scent on your mind and go to sleep wrapped in it, spend all day searching for your next hit.

Lucky you, he's never far away.

"You like it?" You ask, drawing back enough to speak, but he puts a little pull into his grip on you, a slight but insistent pressure. "You're not allowed to say no."

"It's good," he replies, attention split three ways.

"Good," you echo. "Are you lying?"

"No." He can feel your laugh, reverberating through him, the way it had the first time he met you. Something about you reaches deeper than others do, pulls at threads inside him he hadn't known were twisted into knots.

You're so tangible like this, he thinks, nonsensically. He just likes it—a hand almost on your hip, the other a little higher, the way you cling to his shoulders. He can feel the muscles under your skin as you move, the way you wiggle around, how you want to dance for real, spinning and dipping and kicking over the stack of books on the coffee table. You'll have to settle for this, doing things his way.

He kisses the side of your head, the shell of your ear, stops moving for a moment to press his lips to the corner of your jaw. You turn your head, bump skulls with him, smile. Your eyes flick across his face, curious.

He can spin you out this once, he guesses.

You come back to him and your hair is in your face, there for him to brush away. Hajime can see it on you; you're still curious. He doesn't have an answer for you. Just a toothy grin and a little more sway in his movements.

The song concludes; another starts. You sing along softly when the singing starts, though you trip over verse beginnings occasionally and smash up your words. Hajime doesn't sing (even in the shower, the travesty, just stands under the water in silence), but he listens.

If you pressed your head up to his chest, like you nearly have now, you might detect the faint rumble of humming.

You could tease him about it. He wouldn’t mind if you did. Instead, you just tilt your head up, mouth brushing his jaw, already stubbled despite the shaving cream and razor you’d smoothed over it that morning. The last note of the song you hold a little longer after it ends, until you run out of breath and he feels the ragged movement of your lungs desperately refilling themselves.

There’s silence, the click of the needle into its resting place, the slow recovery of your heart from overexertion. The temperature is erring on the side of too hot, now.

“I love you,” he says. It pours out of him to fill the space, careful, stalwart Hajime, speaking without thinking and not even decent enough to regret it. He’s supposed to be nervous, he’s pretty sure, but his pulse doesn’t even pick up. It might be the first time either of you have said it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know it’s right.

The answer to an unspoken question, right and true and good.

“Are you lying?” You whisper, but you know, too.

“No, stupid,” he pinches your hip, strong thumb and forefinger and you jump and cuddle into him.

“Jerk,” you say in his ear. “I love you.”

#starting to think dance is my love language #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc #iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime drabbles #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff

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chimielie · 7 months

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something just happened to me

#lp #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc

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chimielie · 2 years

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don’t worry babe he’s otw

my beautiful guard dog ❤️

#im high on endorphins rn i take no responsibility for words said #ask n answer #yuna!#iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc

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chimielie · 2 years

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iwaizumi hajime Please

#please i can be wife material i can make u sooooooo happy #down so bad i cant even be disgusted #lp #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc

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chimielie · 2 years

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please recommend me some iwaizumi fics i’m starving to death

#lp #if u are in a similar position u can find my iwa ficrecs and possibly some of my iwa fics (?? idk) under the tag #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc

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chimielie · 2 years

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“Mattsun!” You squeak, shoving him with your hip. “Don’t fold it, sheesh, you’ll crease it, you animal—”

“That’s what she said,” cuts in your friend and lets you snatch the length of paper from him without complaint.

“You have to roll it,” you finish bitterly. “You could take this more seriously, you know.”

“You could stop losing your mind over your boyfriend coming home for ten days,” Mattsun retorts. On cue, Makki starts making kissy noises, even though his face is hidden as he tries to jigsaw a number of plastic boxes together in the trunk. You put your foot in the crease of his knee and push lightly. He doesn’t shut up.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you roll your eyes, tying off the banner and fitting it neatly on top of the stack of other things in your dad’s car. “And he’s your friend, too, I don’t see why you aren’t excited.”

“We are excited. You’re just...”

“Whipped,” Makki completes the sentence. Unhelpfully, in your opinion.

“I’m just saying, I don’t remember Oikawa getting the same welcome.”

“Oikawa got a pile of presents without my contribution, and I got him milk bread anyway.”

“Store-bought,” snorts Makki.

“You stayed up all night last night making a full meal and packing it into tupperwares.” You hate it when Mattsun points out relevant facts in his relevant-fact voice.

“Well—you know—oh, shut up!”

You fling yourself into the driver’s seat and slam the door petulantly. When you connect your phone to the auxiliary cord, your most recently-played playlist shows up on the radio automatically, displaying the title in all caps: OH BABY, OH BABY.

You scowl and sink into your seat. Makki, sliding into the passenger seat, and Mattsun (draped over all three seats in the back) laugh, but take mercy on your pouting face and say nothing.

The airport is less crowded then usual, leaving you altogether too much space with your thoughts. Your hips and shoulders wiggle without your permission, and you’re pretty sure your lips will need tons of chapstick after you’ve finished biting them off.

“Oh, go on,” says Mattsun, and you look at him questioningly. “Just let it out.”

You’re so full of energy you don’t even hesitate to be embarrassed, stepping into a hop-skip-run in circles around your laughing friends.

“He’s coming home he’s coming home he’s coming home he’s coming home he’scominghome!” You chant, stopping to wrap your arms around Makki’s shoulders, forcing him to stoop since you’re bent over from laughter yourself. “He’s coming hoooooome.”

You release Makki and step over to Mattsun, who indulges you by taking your hand and twirling you around until you’re breathless.

Makki calls your name, once, then twice. Eventually, your momentum slows and you collapse with your back against Mattsun’s chest, eyes squeezed closed.

You inhale deeply, waiting for your heartbeat to settle before you open your eyes.

You double take when you do, but find yourself frozen, unable to surge forward or flinch back. Iwaizumi Hajime is standing in front of you, bare inches away. His hands are gripping his suitcase handle so hard you would be able to see his knuckles turn white if you could just tear your gaze away from his. His grin is sheepish, almost nervous, but unwavering—always your ace.

“I missed you.”

#iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc #dont be fooled by this im having the worst day but regardless we thirst #iwaizumi x reader fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu!! x reader fluff #hq x reader fluff #shorts!

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chimielie · 2 years

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“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

The meme is old, the question probably too worn out for words. You look with sparkling eyes at your boyfriend, waiting for recognition and loving exasperation to wash over his face.

“I’d probably love you more if you were a worm,” he responds, not even looking up from his phone. You gasp, then sniff.

You’re normally not that good at faking tears. Hajime turns his head and flinches hard when he’s greeted with the sight of your hurt expression. Tears sparkle in your eyes, hanging off your waterline until they grow too fat to hold on and drop onto your cheeks, where they slide down to your chin. Your mouth is pressed into a pouty O, your eyebrows pulled up while you try to blink the tears away.

“Are you... crying because I said I’d rather date a worm?”

You sniff angrily and turn away from him.

“Oh, so now you’d rather date any old worm? Not even worm-me?”

“Wormy?” He’s still struggling to wrap his head around the situation he’s found himself in.

“Worm-me!”

“Baby, I was joking. A joke. Please don’t cry,” he says helplessly, although it’s clearly too late for that.

You stand up and walk away, making Reese Witherspoon à la the beginning of Legally Blonde noises all the way to the bedroom. He frowns and follows, finding you facedown on the bed.

“Baby,” he tries again, rubbing your back. “I love you as a human. I would love you as a worm the exact same amount— no more, no less.”

“And you wouldn’t date any other worms?” You turn your head to the side, and he breathes a silent sigh of relief that you’re not suffocating in the pillows.

“No, I would never. No one else, human or worm.”

“Or cicada?” He blinks.

“Well...” The question is so absurd it begs a joke, but the way fresh tears shimmer in your eyes remind him how much rides on his answer, however absurd it may seem. “No, of course not. Only you.”

“Okay,” you say, voice small, and Hajime slides both hands under you to flip you on your back. “...Would you still love me if—”

“No,” he cuts you off, sounding aggrieved. “No more.”

#shorts!#Hi Lia. why would you write this. hi lia! i don’t know ❤️ stay safe out there ppl (me) are weird #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader

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chimielie · 2 years

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flowers in your hair

summary: Iwaizumi Hajime x Filipina Reader. hajime doesn’t screw up your debut. far from it.

wc: 1.2k

cw: brainrot

a/n: i’ll be honest this is just bc i had my 18 roses party recently and the only thing that could have made it better would be haji’s presence. the entrance song was wildest dreams (matthew j webster) btw

“You’ll walk down the center, bow, then go to the left, next to her father. Then Sebastian will be introduced and go right, then Gabriel, who will stand next to you. Got it?”

“Yes,” nods Hajime, running over the mental map in his head with all the seriousness of a seasoned militant rehearsing crucial battle plans. He’ll walk straight down the center of the floor without tripping over his own feet, bow with all the grace and dignity that befits this event, and go to your father’s left, not his right, his left. Wait, would it be his left or Hajime’s left?

Fuck.

He can only imagine how it would look to your family if he screwed up the entrance choreography, if it was something so small that got him. He’s practiced the dance that comes afterwards a thousand times over at this point, enough to know that he can execute it with as much skill as he can spike (well, maybe). He’d spent the last month panicking over the dance, actually, forcing Oikawa to practice with him, watch him, and criticize his footwork ruthlessly. It’s basically become muscle memory.

He just knows that if he doesn’t get the entrance right, all of that preparation will have been for nothing, and he’ll freeze during the dance, and it’ll ruin your entire debut. Then he’ll have to break up with you (or rather, you with him), be run out of town by your family for it, and have to live forever in a cave for shame and heartbreak.

“Okay, kid,” your dad says, the sound of Bruno Mars swelling in the ballroom they’re standing just outside of. Around Hajime, the other cotillion members are adjusting their ties or fussing with their dresses. “You’ll be... on my right. Is that right?”

Your dad has always been nice to Hajime. Your whole family has, really, the ones he’s met so far. You often joke that they like him better than they like you, and after three years of dating, he thought he was pretty comfortable with them. He peers into the open door of the ballroom and registers exactly how many relatives you have and how important this first impression on them is for him.

Hajime thinks he’s gonna throw up.

“Breathe,” whispers your mother to him, then turns around and fixes a smile on her face, taking your father’s arm as they step together into view of the party guests.

“When do I go?” He whispers frantically to the coordinator. She pats him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“It’s good to see you care so much about her,” she says, which, frankly, doesn’t do much to comfort him. He does not like his feelings for you being constantly evaluated. “I’ll give you your cue, don’t worry. Just go straight, bow, then left.”

“My left, his right,” Hajime mutters, hoping he looks more confident then he feels. Your younger cousins all think he’s cool, and he really doesn’t want that to change. Also, he used a ton of hair gel and stress might make it spike up again.

“That’s it,” she says, then nudges him forward. “And that’s it!”

He feels like a newborn giraffe stumbling onto the floor. One step turns into many, his stride lengthening and becoming more relaxed the further he makes it. He can see a collection of your uncles and aunties holding up their phones to film in the corner of his eye; as he nears the stage where the head tables are, your Uncle Sammy appears with the biggest contraption ever to be called a camera and snaps a photo that nearly blinds him with the flash.

He reaches your parents, who are smiling fondly at him, and turns to bow to the rest of the room. He takes three steps left. He heaves a sigh of relief, grinning when he remembers that all eyes are on him.

He can breathe freely, now, and marvel at the scene he stands at the center of. Garlands of flowers drip off every surface, illuminated by golden candles bobbing in glass bowls of water. Surrounding him on all sides are your family, your friends— all the people who love you.

He can hear them chattering amongst themselves while the other introductions are being made. One of your little cousins knocks on a glass bowl, and his mother chides him softly for it, pulling him into her lap and redirecting his attention by pointing at one of the cousins entering the room. Two of your aunts whisper together about the roast pig on display near the bar. Three tables away, Oikawa shoots him a big thumbs up and a shit-eating smile, while Mattsun and Makki have their eyes fixed on one of your friends as she crosses the floor.

“...one of the debutante’s oldest friends! And now,” the emcee says, and as his tone shifts into something more formal, the music slides smoothly from pop into something orchestral, building slowly. “Please rise and welcome our celebrant!”

The room hushes, the music settling over the people like some delicately-woven spell, before it itself quiets, holding its breath. Hajime blinks. The doors open once more.

The song bursts back into joyous life, crescendoing over the raucous applause that breaks out, and you step into the room.

The speakers continue to blare and the people continue to clap, and Hajime can’t hear a thing. His blood roars in his ears, drowning out everything else, leaving him utterly helpless, fixated entirely on you.

You step into the room, your skirts swishing around you, your head held high as you smile that same smile that leaves Hajime breathless every fucking time he sees it. Your dress is magnificent—all white, contrasting your glowing skin, the bodice crusted with pearls and flowers and complicated corsetry and the skirts so full he doesn’t know if he could get within a three foot radius of you. The dress is nothing compared to you, though.

You walk like you’re floating on air. Your eyes are curved into dark half-moons and your lashes look like they would sweep him away if you batted them at him. You shine here, like Selene in her starlight, a goddess in the temple.

There are ribbons in your hair. In that moment, all he wants is to reach out and touch them, unwind them, brushing the rough skin of his hands against the softness of your neck every so often incidentally. He doesn’t think he’s inhaled for the last three minutes.

You twirl, and when you’re facing forward again you find him. You smile, a different smile than the one you granted everyone else, and his heart stops. You laugh, an open-mouthed laugh, and wave, wiggling your fingers at him, and he blushes like a fire engine, waving back meekly. He can’t speak to you from this distance, but he knows you can read the meaning in his gaze.

Someday, you’ll meet again, just like this. You’ll waltz down the aisle wearing a white dress and flowers and and the prettiest damn smile he’s ever seen.

And he’ll be waiting for you at the end of it.

#soooo nervous to post this idk why. anyway every time i post hajime i get more self inserty #iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #hq!! fluff #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #all the names are my actual cousins names btw bc im lazy. idk how much of this is specific to my family tbh this is very thinly veiled #selfship content

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chimielie · 2 years

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hugely disappointed that i am not kissing iwaizumi hajime at midnight tonight. terrible start to the year

#lp #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc

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chimielie · 2 years

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daily reminder that i want iwaizumi hajime. down hellish

#thanks for the reminder pandora my love #lp #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc