#iwaizumi one shot
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WORTH BEING SECOND BEST ♡ IWAIZUMI HAJIME
iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader
ingredients? perhaps being "second best" and not having other people crowding him all the time had its perks.
what's it? fluff
allergen warning/s? delves into iwaizumi's insecurities and the stuff he doesn't project outwardly so maybe he's a lil ooc.
sugar level? 2.3k
regulars? @hanayanetwork @tahonet @tokyometronetwork
parlor's note? iwaizumi, along with eita who i can't shut up about are so underrated ugh.
bon appetit!
iwaizumi's been oikawa's friend for more or less a good fifteen years now and as such, he's come to the conclusion that there are pros and cons to holding the title of oikawa toru's best friend.
the pros? one, toru's entertaining. whether it be with his latest gossip that he may or may not have gotten from a fangirl who snitched on their friend just to gain his attention for a few measly seconds or him hitting himself in the head with the volleyball trying to better his serve, oikawa always knew how to make iwaizumi feel happy (and worried, but that's just part of the Oikawa Toru's Friend Experience, he reckons).
two, he's genuine, even if it may not seem like that to some people. if he smirks at the rival team's captain, telling him they're gonna be the one headed to nationals, that's what he's planning to do. if he tells them to do their best, oikawa wants them to do their best as he's aware that the competition will sharpen him to be better. if he thanks a fanboy for the cookies he's baked for him, he's actually thankful. while the fan may be thinking that this is his movie moment, that the oikawa toru is going to be his boyfriend and oikawa doesn't really think much of the sweet gesture, he still actually appreciates it. besides, since after the breakup with his last girlfriend, oikawa wasn't really into the dating scene during high school, much too focused on finally defeating and humiliating shiratorizawa or ushijima wakatoshi in general.
and three, the one he cherishes the most is how they're like-minded people, both hardworking and studious. the brunette man never led him astray, never became a bad influence - at least not to the point of it becoming an issue - and never nagged him to just have fun. they both cared about their performances, polishing it to the best they can because like he said, talent is something to nurture and wisdom is something to hone. he probably wouldn't be as good at his profession as he is now without oikawa, but that's not something he's going to tell the man. there's no need for him to blow up his friend's ego even more.
the cons? he wants to say there's a lot, but to him, there really isn't much of those. not subjectively speaking anyways. he loves oikawa, he's his best friend and though he objectively had flaws, there weren't flaws to hajime because it made him him.
that being said, there are still two the bugged him to death.
having oikawa's fangirls and fanboys hounding them on school grounds all the time. they'd sit near iwaizumi in class, hoping to use his connection to their crush to build a connection of their own. there were even times where they'd plop down next to the two boys in aoba johsai's canteen, fawning for oikawa's eyes to be trained on them for a while. and as a person would imagine, iwaizumi's not the only person bothered by this. hanamaki and matsukawa stopped sitting with them for a while and that's the reason why. it'd be a different story if they were all over me though issei smirked the time iwaizumi and oikawa confronted the two of them about it. and honestly if he wasn't so nice, hajime would consider doing it too, but that's not the case. he's too damn nice for his own good, and sanity at that.
and the second one? it didn't just bug him, no. that'd be too small of a word to describe how much he hates it and hate sounds too much of a mean word so he settles on the word saddens.
it saddens him how he's always treated second best next to oikawa. sure, he's aware of just how talented (and good-looking) his friend is. out of everyone on this earth, whether a friend or someone standing across the court, iwaizumi knows oikawa better than them so this also means he knows how much oikawa deserves the praise he gets because the man doesn't half-ass anything. it simply was not in his dna. he always has the goal of being the best. saying you're gonna be the best is easier said than done. putting in the effort needed in order to be the best is easier said than done, but oikawa means it. he does it even if it's at his own expense, arriving home at eleven at night practicing jump serves or getting absolutely exhausted. anything for his hard to reach goal.
but did people have to rub it in iwaizumi's face all the time?
whether it was people working for the news saying things like "people have always said that the person who foes fear when across the court is the ace, but when you glance at this powerhouse school, you will see that this statement is no longer true. this is the new breed of setters!" or his friend's fans pushing through him to get to his best friend, it was always made clear to him that he was just second best to oikawa. people whether consciously or unconsciously have shoved it into his brain so much, that he began to internalize it.
but he kept all that down, he didn't want the man in question to know. he didn't have to know. he didn't want his pity or his trying-to-be-comforting words because it'd do nothing. this has been happening for far too long for iwaizumi to just suddenly, magically feel better after a few words of praise.
but then you enter his life and everything he knows is turned upside down.
you hand him appetizing homemade chocolate truffles you made along with a good luck charm a few moments before his team faces shiratorizawa in the finals during this third year. when he tells you that he'll give it to oikawa as soon as he manages to wrangle the boy from the girls crowding him, you shake your head at him, wearing a confused look on your face. "may i ask why? they're for you."
you asked him to hang out a few weeks after he approached you at school, telling you about how good the truffles you made were. he asked if you wanted him to bring oikawa - something he doesn't typically do, but he figures you're worth it when you're able to cook so well. maybe when you bring oikawa something, he'll be kind enough to share - and you told him that it'd be preferred if it's just the two of you. his heart clenched in his chest when you told that he could bring his friend if it'd make him more comfortable even though you ultimately just wanted to get to know your school's ace.
you asked him out on a date while the two of you were in a phone call, making the first move and showing actual interest in him and just him. your voice was shaky, it seemed like you were scared of messing things up between the two of you, but that didn't happen because iwaizumi was more than happy to say yes. then you picked him up and paid the bill -- even though you only ate at a cheap ramen place because you were broke high school students that are months away from going to college. on top of that, you even offered to walk him home, but he figures you've already done enough. he does it to you instead.
you love him, embrace him, nurture him so perfectly and it makes his heart flutter and cheeks heat up. the way you intertwined your pinkies together while walking or the way always let him use your shoulder as a pillow to sleep on during train rides home makes him feel safe, secure. like he can be himself when he's with you. and he can, you accept him for all that he is.
then you cry when he breaks the news to you that he'll be moving to america for university despite not being together for a very long time. you cling onto him for the rest of the night, deciding to stay over theirs since both of your parents were away. you claimed that the reason you're doing this is to make sure the monsters in his closet doesn't get him, when you know it's so you can spend a few more precious minutes with the man you've loved since you were a first year in aoba johsai high.
you were in the car at three in the morning with his family as they drove him to the airport, letting a few tears down when you bury your face into his chest, bidding him a farewell, then a few more during the drive home. his family who has grown quite fond of you has kindly driven you home so you could not have to walk or take the bus at this late hour. you also appreciated how they didn't stare at you through their peripherals, letting you wallow in your own sadness during the one and half hour drive. as much as you adored them, having met them and talked to them already because of all the iwaizumi family dinners you've been invited to, you really did not want to talk right now. you weren't in the mood for it.
iwaizumi doesn't stay in the californian apartment they rented out during the few weeks of arriving in the foreign place. he stays over his aunt's place just so he has a stable support system while he lets himself get adjusted to north america, to california because it wasn't easy. the culture shock hit him harder than he'd like to admit. he starts to miss everything about home, the atmosphere, the food, the culture, his family and friends even goddamn shittywaka. and then he misses you too. misses how your hand fit perfectly in his, how well you treat him and how special you make him feel, the texture of your lips on his, the butterflies in his stomach that only seem to come alive whenever your around.
and the worst part of this whole ordeal is that he doesn't know when he'll see you again. hell, he doesn't even know if he'll see you again or if your fate is just gonna be like all those long distance relationship horror stories heard of. your good mornings will be during his evening, and his good night will be received by you at eight in the morning. that slowly, slowly, the passion between the two of you is just going to fade away into nothingness.
he can't bear the thought of that so he swears to himself that he'll do anything to keep your relationship alive, even if it meant to go to sleep at three in the morning and be awake at five to study and ready for his morning classes.
but you bested him.
it's you who's positioned on the sofa of his new suspiciously cheap apartment, laying down on your back oh-so nonchalantly like you're home where you're supposed to be, like you aren't hundreds of miles away from your homeland. you have your hands folded behind your head and when you catch his confused gaze, you simply shoot him a smile and a wave of a hand that he's missed holding so much that it makes tears prick the corners of his eyes during those bad, bad nights where the homesickness is especially haunting. "hey haji!"
he can't help but run to you, to pull you out of the couch and hug you so tightly that you couldn't breathe and it's fine, you didn't mind because you yearned for his presence and cursed his absence as much as he did for you. which brings him to "what the fuck are you doing here?" it's said fondly and iwaizumi has a genuine smile on his face, one of the biggest ones he's ever sported in his life, he's sure. it comes along with the biggest surprise he's ever had - not that he had a lot of those - in his life too.
"i go to your university now too!" you grinned at him, keeping your arms around his muscled figure. "and i'm your roommate."
he still had so many questions,
did his family know about this?
did yours?
did they approve of the both of you living together?
is this their idea in the first place?
but right now, he couldn't care less. he leaned down to capture your lips with his in a kiss, though it wasn't much of it. it was more like laughing and teeth colliding because of how you couldn't stop smiling, running your hands over each other's bodies. it was nothing sexual, it was simply relishing the fact that the other half of you, your better half is right here. it's making sure you're not dreaming, and making sure that if you are, you'll remember every detail, every dip and bump of the other even after you wake up to empty sheets with no one beside you.
iwaizumi decided that being second best to oikawa might not be that bad if it led him to you.
i get: reblog
you get: iwaizumi's old volleyball jersey
#order of the day!#order up for iwaizumi!#one matcha mochi#with a side of coconut italian ice#iwaizumi#iwaizumi fluff#iwaizumi one shot#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi hajime fluff#iwaizumi hajime one shot#iwaizumi hajime x reader#iwaizumi hajime x you#haikyuu!!#haikyu!! fluff#haikyuu!! one shot#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu!! x you
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JEALOUSY !
sumarry: tsukishima gets extremely jealous when a certain outside hitter tries to hit on you, unbeknownst to him – you’re already taken and your boyfriend doesn’t like sharing.
notes: tsukishima kei x reader, jealous type of boyfriend, also a brief moment of iwaizumi hajime x reader. also reader is way shorter than kei, but if you’re tall just skip the part. also not proofread.
word count: 1.3k
kei didn’t want to be at the party in the first place. he has been a more introverted kind of person throughout his whole life, and changing it wasn’t even a thing in his mind. but you asked him to be there. and there was nothing that could make tsukishima refuse you. you were the only one occupying the boy’s brain all the time anyway.
so when he agreed to your idea, you promised to send him the address and smiled delightedly. it would be your first social event since you started dating a few weeks ago. and since you two attended different schools, no one besides yamaguchi and kageyama knew.
it was definitely a sweet thing, enjoying each other’s presence without being forced to hear mean comments how you two didn’t fit together or something else that would’ve just got on your nerves and the boy would have to calm you before you threw hands on someone.
before tsukishima got to the house of your classmate, you had already been there, dropped off by your mom, who wanted to be sure of your location. a quick promise to be walked home by someone was said and you were free, waiting on your boyfriend.
me: text me when you get here and i’ll find you somewhere
the house was filled with seijoh students from different years and classes. you could recognize most of them, as you weren’t really someone new there. tōru oikawa, the school’s star, standing next to matsukawa and hamaki somewhere nearby the staircase, tanjiro from the basketball team was talking to a girl from a year above while a third year was talking to someone you couldn’t see.
the heavy scent of alcohol mixed with smoke itched your nostrils, and you grimaced as you entered the kitchen, accidentally bumping into someone.
“hey, you’re alright?” a familiar voice spoke out, his hands on your arms to prevent you from falling. “l/n-san, nice to see you here.” with that words said, you realized it was iwaizumi hajime who you were talking to.
“don’t say you didn’t expect me to be here, iwaizumi-san.” you laughed, moving to be closer to the counter, pouring yourself a drink. you could feel his eyes tracing around your body, as if the ace tried to remember your curves like it was the last time you see each other. unfortunately for iwaizumi, you were too oblivious to catch a sign. “what you’re looking at?”
“uh-” he stuttered, flushing like a tomato. “your dress. it brings out your curves, you look gorgeous.” hajime added after a minute, bringing his eyes up to your face.
you looked more than just gorgeous, you looked ethereal. with the perfect, black eyeliner on your eyelids with an eyeshadow that fitted your eye colour. and oh my god the dress. you wore a tight, backless, black dress with a split on your left thigh (your mom wasn’t too pleased about it tho).
it was the first time you dressed like that to a friday party, always wearing cargo pants and tank tops with a zipper hoodie you once stole from tobio. your boyfriend was the reason why you dressed like that, you wanted to see him breathless, happy having a girlfriend that hot.
“thank you.” a soft smile spread over your mouth as you took a sip of your drink. “is there any occasion? wanna catch somebody’s eye?” the boy asked, his eyes not leaving your lips.
“actually… yes.” you laughed at the sound of your reply, and leaned your back on the counter behind you. iwaizumi swore he could feel his heart skip a beat upon hearing your words. he knew you had a long time crush on him in the junior high, and now he felt like the heavens finally gave him a chance.
“hey, uh. i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.” he began, getting a little closer to you. “wouldn’t you like to go out somewhere next sunday? like on a date.”
that’s when you connected the dots and froze. he thought you were talking about him. out of all people, it had to be hajime that you bumped in. gosh. you chugged down your drink before revealing you’re in a happy relationship, but eventually it wasn’t you who said that.
“maybe in two weeks? she’s already going out with her boyfriend on that sunday.” kei, who walked to the two of you out of sudden, remarked harshly, wrapping an arm around your waist. pulling you away from the ace, gently but swiftly.
“oh.” was the only thing that came from hajime.
tsukishima didn’t need to hear any more, pushing the respect for his seniors aside in his mind, he took your hand in his and walked out of the kitchen. and when normally he wasn’t the one to show any affection in public, then that day was an exception. maybe for the extreme jealousy he felt rushing in his veins when he noticed you with hajime and especially after hearing how he tried to ask you out.
and before you could even realize, his lips crushed into yours passionately. in public, so everyone from your school could see it and not hit on you anymore. after a few moments, you would just drag your boyfriend into an empty room, right. a rush of adrenaline must have got to him when he sat you down on a drawer, so the kisses would be more comfortable for both of you since the height difference.
he pulled away for a second, cupping your cheek with his hand and aside from melting under his soft touch, you melted even more after seeing how kei smiled at you. “you don’t even know how much i love you.” he empathized. “i don’t even know if i ever felt something like that towards anyone else. if someone ever had me choosing between something and you, i’d always choose you.”
tsukishima’s words destroyed you. it wasn’t anything bad, obviously, but it was the third time he spoke up about his feelings towards you, the first happened when you misunderstood his intention and thought of your first-date as a casual, friends hangout, the second when he confessed he likes you in a way he doesn’t like anyone else and now… he dropped the L-bomb. your boyfriend has never been the type of someone who’s fond of his words, and expressing emotions was hard for him as well. you felt your eyes watering, and thank god that you chose waterproof mascara.
“did i say something wrong…?” he was confused by your reaction, he knew you so well, yet he couldn’t tell why his girlfriend was crying in the first place. you immediately shook your head and by pulling in the fabric of his collar, you kissed him again. hands on the back of his neck, rubbing it gently, while his wandered around the length of your thighs.
“i love you” you spoke out as he pressed his forehead to yours. you could feel his body loosen up upon hearing your confession. “and there’s never gonna be anyone better for me than you.”
“next thing, me, you in that dress and a dinner at my house together on sunday?” he smiled at you, caressing soft circles on your leg. “and then afterwards, me, you in my hoodie and whatever movie you wanna watch.”
“i don’t know if i’m free, baby. gotta stand in line.” you chuckled as tsukishima rolled his eyes. “hmm, but if you say i get to keep the hoodie, then i can cancel some guys.”
“it’s not like you wouldn’t keep it anyway.”
(another part of tsukishima x seijoh!reader, here)
#kei tsukishima#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima kei imagine#haikyuu fic#kei tsukishima x reader#haikyuu x reader#tsukishima kei x insert reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu one shot#haikyu#iwaizumi hajime x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu ome shot#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x female reader#female reader#kei tsukishima x seijoh reader#haikyuu x imagines#tsukishima fic#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima x y/n#niki’s works 🫂
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people from my high school are getting married and i run a fucking haikyuu blog
#haikyuu#hq#haikyuu fanfiction#hq fanfiction#haikyu#haikyuu!!#and i still have the biggest fattest crush on matsukawa issei#haikyuu one shot#atsumu miya#haikyuu x reader#sakusa kiyoomi#matsukawa issei#Iwaizumi hajime#osamu miya#suna rintarou#kita shinsuke#Kuroo Tetsurou#kenma kozume#hinata shoyou#tobio kageyama#akaashi keiji#bokuto koutaro#oikawa toru#ushijima wakatoshi
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I'm sorry, but is it possible to continue with Iwaizumi Hajime " Pretend " ?
My precious anon, there is nothing to apologize for! Of course I can!
Title: Pretend (Part 2)
Pairings: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader
WARNINGS: Yandere themes, marking, suggestive content
Summary: Iwaizumi is the perfect gentleman, your knight in shining armor. Or, at least you thought he was… But sometimes you don’t realize someone’s playing pretend until it’s too late.
Part 1: here
pretend
/verb/
speak and act so as to make it appear that something is the case when in fact it is not
You felt like a living doll.
A fake smile plastered on your face in clothes that he has picked out for you. No one seems to notice that your smile never matches your cold, dead eyes.
Iwaizumi likes you by his side, dragging you around with his arm around your waist as he talks with his team, as he eats his lunch, as he walks you to your classes, and on the way home. That last one is the worst because now he knows where you live.
Oikawa’s fangirls no longer go after you, since it’s clear that you’re only “interested” in Oikawa’s right hand man, and not the superstar himself. Even their razor sharp eyes don’t pick up on your discomfort. Neither do your friends.
“You’re so lucky!” “He’s so handsome!” “He loves you so much!”
He’s handsome, yes, and he certainly loves you (too much), but you aren’t lucky. In fact, you are the least lucky person in the world. If you were lucky, you would have been enrolled in a different school, not the hell Iwaizumi had turned Aoba Johsai into.
Iwaizumi is the most possessive person you know. His arm being around you at all times is the least of your concerns. It’s the moments when he pulls you into a closet and leaves “love bites” all over your neck. Where people can definitely see it, of course. You try pulling up your collar, but it’s in vain. If they faded or were hidden somehow, he’d just replace them with even deeper markings.
As he sits you down at the table his team sits at, you desperately hope that they’ll notice something. Anything. The pain in your eyes, the way your smile falters when Iwaizumi’s attention turns to you, the way you clearly want to be anywhere else.
But no. They don’t. Of course, they don’t.
Oikawa coos over you until Iwaizumi’s snarling at him to back off. Hanamaki and Matsukawa laugh behind their hands at Oikawa’s whiny “Iwa-chan!” and a part of you wonders if they know you’re miserable and they’re laughing at your suffering.
The first and second years pout and whine about how they want a girlfriend too. One as pretty and sweet as you. There’s an unsaid “as submissive as you” somewhere in there.
You sit there, unmoving and unfeeling, as their practice match rages on. Iwaizumi hits the ball as hard as he can and, you can tell, as his eyes flicker to you, that he expects you to clap and cheer for him.
You can smile and pretend you’re watching, but no way in hell can he make you do anything more than that for him.
Or maybe he will. There was a time where you weren’t smiling, but now, here you were, fake smile plastered on your face from dawn to dusk, stretching the corners of your face until they were sore.
The only good thing about him was that he respected your boundaries. To a point.
When he cornered you in a storage closet, all hot and bothered for who knows why, he listened when you told him not to go too far. He was left pushing his hands in your shirt only high enough to stroke and grope your stomach. And, of course, leave hickies up and down your neck.
It was in these moments, that he let you see his emotions, the stoic expression replaced by something so loving and so disturbing. His eyes were soft, but dark with something you couldn’t place. It was close to lust, but that wasn’t it. Obsession seemed to fit better than anything else.
Considering Iwaizumi barely gave you time to breathe, you felt that you may just be right on the money.
The first time he kissed you, it was in the school hallway, filled with curious onlookers. You watched as his lips grew closer and closer, but you were frozen in place, unable to even move your face away. It was short and sweet, more of a peck than anything.
The rest of the kisses were hot and heavy in the storage closets, as though he was hoping you’d say yes to less innocent activities. It would be a cold day in hell before you accepted that offer.
He still treated you like a princess, as though he could somehow still be your knight in shining armor after all he’d done to you. There were moments- times when you were both alone, when he would gaze at you with a faraway look, as though he felt bad about what he’d done to you.
Guilty that he’d turned you into this living husk.
You would never forgive him. Not even if he got on his knees and begged you, tears running down his cheeks.
Your eyes glazed over as Iwaizumi wrapped you up in a hug after another Seijoh victory. You went limp in his arms, refusing to reciprocate. He either didn’t notice or he didn’t care.
He leaned back and studied your expression for a moment, before something akin to guilt flashed through his eyes and his mouth parted in the beginning of a “sorry”.
Then, it was gone as soon as it appeared.
“Let me walk you home.”
It’s not a question. It never is.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere haikyuu#haikyuu!!#yandere one shot#one shot#yandere iwaizumi#iwaizumi hajime
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When Iwaizumi is drunk
Iwaizumi has a high tolerance for alcohol, but when he gets drunk, he gets clingy -like really clingy-, and possessive -like really possessive-. And, as twisted as it sounds to admit it, Oikawa has fun with this Hajime.
A lot of fun.
The first time he discovered it was a couple of years ago, at a party in a popular Tokyo bar. While Tooru was talking animatedly with Sugawara and a nice guy they hit it off with, Iwaizumi appeared behind him, wrapping his strong arm around his waist to pull him close, sticking Tooru's back to his broad chest, their hips fitting snugly together.
"Hey, my pretty boy, I've been looking for you" He spoke, throaty and low over the music, kissing the sweaty skin of Oikawa's neck with hot lips.
Tooru blinked, blushing up to his eyebrows as his smile faltered in the face of the new boy's confused look and Sugawara's amused gaze, who took a swig of his drink trying to hide the laughter.
"A-Ah, Iwa-chan, sorry, Koushi-chan and I got caught up with Aoi-kun" He replied, feeling his knees weaken as Hajime tightened his grip a little more, pulling him closer to his solid body. Iwa's thumb began to trace delicate circles along his hip bone through the thin fabric of his blue shirt.
"Mmh" He hummed, resting his chin on Oikawa's shoulder and raising his darkened and intense eyes to the new boy, scrutinizing him up and down.
Aoi smiled, tense and uncomfortable, wiping his palm against his jeans before extending it in Iwaizumi's direction.
"Hey, nice to meet you, I'm Ao-"
"I didn't ask you."
Suga couldn't hold back his laughter this time, and Aoi flushed with embarrassment. Tooru turned his face toward Iwaizumi with round eyes and mouth open. Who is this Iwa-chan and where is my Iwa-chan?
And why the hell is this so, so hot?
"Iwa-chan," he uttered slowly, instantly grabbing Iwaizumi's attention. Iwaizumi glared back at him, his cheeks tinged with a blush. "Are you drunk? What happened to your renowned alcohol tolerance?"
Hajime frowned, and, to Tooru's added surprise, he stuck out his lower lip in a pout.
Iwaizumi Hajime, pouting.
Him.
Pouting.
"I'm not, why do you think I am too?" He whined like a toddler in a tantrum and Oikawa's heart nearly stopped dead in its tracks when Hajime hid his face in his neck, snuggling.
"He's fucking drunk" Sugawara assured with amusement, watching Iwaizumi in fascination while Tooru continued to stare wide-eyed, his cheeks and ears turning crimson. "And I think you should take him out for some air."
"But Oikawa-san promised me a dance" Aoi protested, scowling. Tooru began to open his mouth, intending to clarify that he had promised a dance involving all three of them. However, Iwaizumi stepped forward, raising his head from Tooru's shoulder to narrow his gaze at the young boy.
"Tooru is mine, and I don't share what's mine with anyone" He growled, his tone resolute and unwavering. He then let go of the waist of the tomato-red Oikawa to interlock their fingers and lead him toward the door, leaving Aoi standing there in confusion, while Suga playfully patted him on the back.
What happened next, well, it was scarred on Oikawa's neck and thighs.
#haikyuu!!#iwaoi#iwaizumi hajime#oikawa tooru#oikawa x iwaizumi#haikyuu#hq fluff#hajime iwaizumi#drunk iwaizumi#hq drabble#drabble#sugawara koushi#i love them so much#possessive iwaizumi#clingy iwaizumi#soft and fluffy#one shot#short fic
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𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 ✯ 𝐇.𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢
"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙜𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙗𝙮𝙚"
PAIRING. Iwaizumi Hajime x f!Reader
CONTENT. Angst, unrequited love, mental health mentions
Y/N and Iwaizumi, whose budding romance is hindered by Y/N's mental health struggles. Despite Iwaizumi's patience and willingness, Y/N leaves the country to spare him pain. Years later, a chance encounter under falling snowflakes reunites them.
WC. 3.2k
A/N. Oneshot inspired by me and this guy. From the jigglypuff plush to the lego bouquet, this whole story is inspired by what happened to me except for the ending. He was the only guy I've ever experience pure love with, too bad I was fucked in the head. He's still one of my friends to this day I guess but not so much. Hope you enjoy.
Masterlink - Songs Unwritten
In the heart of a vibrant summer, Y/N and Iwaizumi were inseparable friends, finding comfort and laughter in each other's company. Their bond was unique, deeper than mere friendship, and though they hadn't vocalised their feelings, it was evident to those around them that they shared something special.
One scorching day, they visited the bustling amusement park. The air was filled with the scent of cotton candy and popcorn, and the sounds of laughter and exhilarating rides echoed through the air. Y/N's eyes sparkled with excitement as they roamed the park together, trying every ride, indulging in treats, and making unforgettable memories.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Iwaizumi surprised Y/N with a cute Jigglypuff plushie from one of the game stalls. "For you," he said with a bashful smile. "So you always remember this day."
Y/N hugged the plushie tight and thanked him, a blush creeping up her cheeks. It was a moment of silent acknowledgment of their feelings, a connection that words didn't need to express.
As summer days turned to warm autumn hues, the bond between Y/N and Iwaizumi only grew stronger. They shared laughter and tears, supporting each other through thick and thin.
The autumn leaves fell down on Y/N and Iwaizumi as they sat under the shade of a large tree in the park, enjoying the view of the colourful leaves around them.
"Can you believe it's only 2 months until Christmas?" Iwaizumi remarked with a playful grin.
Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "It's still so far away, but I can't wait! I love everything about Christmas—the decorations, the music, and especially the presents!"
"I knew you'd say that," Iwaizumi teased, nudging her playfully. "So, what do you want for Christmas this year?"
She thought for a moment, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Hmm, I think I want a Lego bouquet. Wouldn't that be cool?!"
Iwaizumi chuckled, charmed by her idea. "That's unique, Y/N. I'll see what I can do."
“You're lying Iwa,” She giggles, “You're not even going to remember.”
September turned into November and then December approached. The days grew shorter as the holiday season approached. Y/N and Iwaizumi continued to share their excitement for Christmas, but she had completely forgotten about her playful wish for a Lego bouquet.
On Christmas morning, they exchanged gifts in Iwaizumi's cozy living room, surrounded by twinkling lights and the warmth of the season. Y/N eagerly tore open her presents, unwrapping each one with delight.
As she reached the last gift, her eyes widened in surprise. It was a beautifully wrapped box with a tag that read, "To Y/N, from Iwaizumi."
Curiosity piqued, she carefully removed the wrapping paper, revealing a Lego bouquet—the one she had playfully mentioned months ago in the heat of autumn.
Y/N gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. "Iwaizumi, you remembered!"
He smiled, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Of course, I did. I wanted to give you something special, something that reminded me of the bond we share."
Carefully holding the Lego box in her hands, Y/N felt a rush of emotions. It wasn't just about the gift itself; it was the fact that Iwaizumi had listened, remembered, and put so much thought into it. It was a testament to the depth of their friendship and the love he held for her.
With a heartfelt smile, she looked up at Iwaizumi. "Thank you. This is the best Christmas gift I could have asked for."
He leaned in to give her a gentle hug, the warmth of their friendship enveloping them. "Merry Christmas, Y/N."
"Merry Christmas, Iwaizumi," she replied, cherishing the Lego bouquet in her hands and the memory of an autumn day when she had casually mentioned her wish.
Y/N and Iwaizumi's friendship was a beacon of pure, unwavering love. From the moment they had met, they had shared an instant connection that went beyond words. They were kindred spirits, two souls that seemed destined to find each other in the vastness of the world.
As they grew older, the bond between them only strengthened. They were each other's confidants, sharing their dreams, fears, and hopes without judgement. Their love was pure and unconditional, free from any romantic expectations. Yet, it was unmistakable that they were both so in love with each other, even if they never uttered those words aloud.
Iwaizumi would go to great lengths to see Y/N smile. He knew her favourite ice cream flavour, the songs that made her dance, and the movies that made her laugh until her stomach hurt. He knew when she was lying, when she was nervous or when she was scared. He would surprise her with small gestures of kindness, like leaving a heartfelt note on her desk or baking her favourite cookies when she was feeling down.
Y/N, too, would do anything for Iwaizumi. She was his fiercest advocate, his number one supporter, and his sounding board for any challenge he faced. She knew his dreams and aspirations, and she would encourage him to chase them relentlessly.
The love between them was like an unspoken melody, ever-present in their hearts, but never explicitly acknowledged. But despite their unspoken feelings, they found comfort in the knowledge that their connection was strong enough to withstand anything.
Iwaizumi's willingness to do anything for Y/N knew no bounds. He would drop everything to be by her side during her darkest moments, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement until the storm passed. He cherished her laughter, her smile, and the way her eyes sparkled with joy. He would defend her fiercely from anyone who sought to harm her, and he would lend her his strength when she felt weak.
Y/N, too, was always there for Iwaizumi. She celebrated his victories and comforted him during his defeats. She understood the weight he carried on his shoulders, and she offered him a safe haven where he could be vulnerable and free from judgement. Their love was like a lighthouse in the stormy sea of life, guiding each other safely to shore.
In their hearts, they knew that their friendship was something extraordinary, something that came once in a lifetime. And while they may have yearned for something more, they were content to savour the sweetness of their pure love and the magic of their unbreakable bond.
And so, they continued to walk through life hand in hand, knowing that no matter where their paths led, their love would endure. Their friendship was a testament to the power of love in its purest form—the love that needed no labels or definitions, the love that simply was.
One evening, they sat on the swings at their favourite park, the air turning chillier with each passing day. Y/N absentmindedly swung back and forth, her thoughts burdened by her struggles.
Iwaizumi noticed the change in her demeanour. "You've been distant lately, Y/N. Is everything alright?"
She hesitated before answering, her voice slightly shaky. "Iwaizumi, I... I've been going through a tough time. My mental health hasn't been great, and I've been having these dark thoughts."
Concern etched across Iwaizumi's face as he gently grasped her hands. "Y/N, I'm here for you. You don't have to face this alone. Let me help."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked into his caring gaze. "I’m so tired of feeling sad all the time. I don't want to hurt you, Iwaizumi. I care about you deeply, and I don't want to drag you into my problems."
He wiped away a tear with his thumb, his voice soft but determined. "Y/N, you don't have to worry about that. I care about you too, and I want to be here for you, no matter what. We'll face this together."
"But I don't want you to," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how long it'll take for me to get better, and I can't bear the thought of holding you back."
Iwaizumi gently cupped her face, making her meet his gaze. "Y/N, you're not holding me back. We'll take this one step at a time, and I'll be patient. Just promise me you won't shut me out. Let me be the support you need."
Y/N's heart ached at his unwavering love and support. She leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands against her skin. "I promise," she whispered, tears cascading down her cheeks.
In the following weeks, Iwaizumi stood by Y/N's side, offering a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, and a heart full of compassion. The weight of her struggles was still present, but knowing she had Iwaizumi by her side made it bearable. Their friendship blossomed into something deeper, and Y/N found herself falling for him even more.
One evening, as they strolled through the winter wonderland of twinkling lights and festive decorations, Y/N mustered the courage to express her feelings. "Iwaizumi, I... I love you," she said, her breath visible in the cold air.
He stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. Then, a tender smile graced his lips. "I love you too, Y/N. And I meant what I said before. We'll take this journey together, no matter how long it takes."
For a moment, hope flickered in Y/N's heart, but the weight of her mental struggles still lingered. She couldn't help but wonder if she was being selfish, wanting Iwaizumi to wait for her. The fear of being a burden weighed heavily on her mind.
As the days passed, Y/N found herself withdrawing into her own thoughts, contemplating what would be best for Iwaizumi and her own happiness. The joy of the season and the love she felt for him were overshadowed by her doubts and insecurities.
Finally, on the eve of her departure abroad, she mustered the courage to meet Iwaizumi one last time. Snowflakes danced around them, softening the edges of the world as they stood together in the park.
"Y/N," Iwaizumi said, concern evident in his voice. "Why are you leaving? Is it because of us?"
Tears glistened in her eyes as she shook her head. "No, Iwaizumi. I'm leaving because I don't want to hold you back. I want you to be happy, and I can't bear to see you wait for someone who might never be completely whole."
He reached out to touch her cheek, his eyes full of sorrow. "Y/N, you are worth waiting for. You're worth everything to me. I don't want a life without you in it."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "But I can't do this to you. I love you too much to see you unhappy."
With a heavy heart, Y/N turned and walked away, leaving Iwaizumi standing there, heartbroken and confused.
Years passed, and Y/N returned home, her heart heavy with regret and longing. She couldn't help but wonder what could have been if she had stayed and allowed herself to be loved by Iwaizumi.
The winter wind howled as Y/N stood alone on an ice-covered bench in the park, her breath visible in the frosty air. She had returned home after spending years abroad, hoping to find some closure and perhaps a glimpse of the life she had left behind. The memories flooded her mind as she looked around, and a hint of sadness lingered in her eyes.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached, and her heart skipped a beat. She turned, and there he was—her old friend, Iwaizumi. His once unruly hair was now neatly trimmed, and he had grown into a man with an aura of quiet strength. Time had been kind to him, but it also served as a reminder of the years they had spent apart.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. There were so many things they wanted to say, but the weight of unspoken emotions kept them silent.
"Y/N," Iwaizumi finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and warmth. "Is it really you?"
She managed a small smile, the emotions threatening to spill over. "Yes, Iwaizumi. It's me."
He stepped closer, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Why did you leave, Y/N. We were best friends, and then one day, you were just gone."
Y/N looked down at her hands, the guilt resurfacing. "I thought it was for the best, Iwaizumi. I didn't want to hurt you, and I thought it was the right thing to do."
He gently lifted her chin, making her meet his gaze. "You didn't have to leave like that. We could have faced everything together, just like we promised."
"I know," she whispered, a tear escaping her eye. "But I was scared, Iwaizumi. I didn't want to hold you back. My mental health was in shambles, and I felt like I couldn't be the person you deserved."
His expression softened, understanding shining in his eyes. "You never had to be perfect for me, Y/N. I loved you.”
The past tense echoed in her mind, hitting her like a wave of melancholy. The love she had always sensed, the connection that had bound them together, had been real, but now it felt like a distant memory, a love that had slipped through her fingers.
Her heart ached as she searched his eyes for any glimmer of hope, hoping against hope that she had misheard him or misunderstood his words. But the truth lay bare in his gaze—he had loved her, and perhaps he still did, but the timing had never aligned for them.
Iwaizumi's hold on Y/N tightened for a moment before he gently released her. He looked into her eyes, his expression a mix of coldness and sadness.
Iwaizumi took a deep breath, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. "Y/N, I'm married now," he stated simply, trying to keep his emotions in check.
Her eyes filled with sadness, and she nodded, accepting the reality of the situation. "I see. Congratulations," she managed to say, a forced smile on her lips.
The silence between them was deafening, and Y/N struggled to find the right words. She wanted to tell him how much she regretted leaving, how she longed to be with him, but the guilt of her past actions held her back.
"Iwaizumi, I'm sorry for everything," Y/N finally whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle falling snow.
He looked at her, the hurt evident in his eyes. "You left after everything, Y/N. Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?"
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she tried to find the right way to explain. "I was going through a dark time, and I didn't want to drag you into my struggles. I thought leaving was the best way to protect you."
"I loved you, Y/N," Iwaizumi's voice wavered. "I loved you, and you just left without a word. It felt like you didn't care at all."
"I did care," she choked out, the pain of her actions finally hitting her. "I cared so much, and that's why I left. I thought I was doing what was best for you."
Iwaizumi's jaw tightened, trying to hold back his feelings. He took a step back, needing to distance himself from the woman who still held a special place in his heart. "I hope you find happiness, Y/N. Just like I did."
Y/N's heart broke at the finality of his words, knowing that she had hurt him deeply. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold him close, but she knew it wouldn't change the past.
"Iwaizumi, I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice trembling. "I hope you have a wonderful life."
Without another word, Iwaizumi turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing alone. She watched him disappear into the distance, her heart heavy with regret.
Y/N felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. It was as if time had slowed, and every step he took away from her felt like an eternity. She wanted to call out to him, to beg him to stay, to tell him that she still loves him, but the words caught in her throat. Fear and doubt held her captive, and the overwhelming pain of losing the one real thing she ever knew paralyzed her.
She clutched her heart, hoping to somehow keep it from breaking completely, but there was no relief from the ache inside. The realisation that she had let him go, that she had lost him, was like a knife twisting in her chest.
The world around her blurred as tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. And so, she watched him fade into the distance, a part of her soul leaving with him. It was a pain she had never known before, a void that nothing else could fill. The realisation that she had lost the one real thing she ever knew was like a dark cloud looming over her, suffocating her with regret and longing.
She knew that from that moment on, life would never be the same. She had let the love of her life slip away, and she could only hope that she would find happiness, even if it meant it wouldn't be with him.
As the first snowflakes settled on the ground, Y/N felt a mix of emotions overwhelm her. The last glimpse of him disappeared from sight, she finally allowed the tears to fall, a torrent of emotions pouring out of her. She had found him, but their reunion had only brought pain and longing. The snowfall intensified, creating a soft, white blanket over the park bench where they had once sat together in happier times.
Y/N whispered to the winter breeze, knowing he couldn't hear her, "I'm sorry for hurting you, Iwaizumi. I'll always cherish the memories we shared, even if they were fleeting."
With a heavy heart, she turned away, her steps faltering as she left the park behind. The weight of their unspoken love bore down on her, and with each step she took, it felt as though she was leaving a part of herself behind.
The first snow of winter continued to fall, its delicate flakes creating a serene and ethereal atmosphere around her. As she walked, each snowflake seemed to mirror the tears that silently escaped her eyes.
She couldn't help but look back one last time, hoping for a fleeting glimpse of Iwaizumi, but he was nowhere to be seen. Her heart ached at the thought of him walking away, just like she did all those years ago.
In that moment, she realised that the love they had shared would remain a silent melody in their hearts. A love that would never be openly acknowledged, but one that would forever be etched in the deepest corners of their souls.
With a final tearful glance at the park bench where they had once laughed and dreamed together, she turned her gaze forward and continued on her path. The first snow of winter gently blanketed the world around her, leaving her with a bittersweet sense of closure.
As she walked away from the park, she knew that she would always carry a piece of Iwaizumi with her. He had been her anchor, her source of strength, and her first love. And even though their paths had diverged, the memories they shared would forever hold a special place in her heart.
©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.
#haikyuu#haikyuu angst#haikyuu one shot#haikyuu x reader#hq oneshot#haikyuu x female reader#haikyuu x self insert#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi hajime x reader#iwaizumi hajime x you#hajime iwaizumi#Hajime Iwaizumi#iwaizumi x y/n#Iwaizumi angst#iwa chan#Spotify
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₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊secret snowflake gift for @rinneverse₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊
a/n: posting the secret snowflake gift i did in the pink velvet server. wishing all my followers and mutuals a wonderful and blessed new year c: enjoy!
iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader (sfw, mildly suggestive at the end)
‘what the fuck do I do?'
he’d been bouncing his leg up and down for the last 15 minutes contemplating how he would approach this situation.
it’s New Year's Eve, and international student iwaizumi hajime is a nervous wreck. he had been invited to a small get-together by a friend from his sports injury class last semester. his friend knew about the crush he’d had on you for the last 5 months and thought it would be a great opportunity to get you guys just a little closer. hajime kept shifting his eyes to his watch and then to the acquaintances on the other side of the room, absorbed in their respective conversations.
“hey,” the greeting snaps him out of thought and his eyes meet yours.
“is this seat free?” you ask. he quickly nods, hurrying over. you sit down on the small couch, sitting closer to him to make sure others have room to sit. your knees touch and his face only gets warmer; the sweater he wears feels incredibly uncomfortable.
he clears his throat, “y-you look great tonight.” he offers a small smile at the end of his compliment.
“thank you so much, i didn’t think much of it before leaving but it seemed to match good enough.” you glanced over at his outfit, which looked simple yet styled so well. the dark colors contrasted well with his piercing green eyes. “i can say the same for you too.”
the well-received compliment ends up shaking off the anxiety for hajime and conversation flows freely between you two. topics like school, hobbies, and friends are brought up with jokes and playful jabs mixed in. each word that leaves your mouth has him only falling harder for you. ‘shit,’ he thinks to himself. ‘they’re so fucking perfect…’
“do you wanna get a drink?” you ask, hoping to get away from the noise around you. he nods, stands up, and offers his hand to you. warmth brushes your face, and you take his hand and stand up too.
in the quiet sanctuary of the kitchen, you both enjoy the ridiculously sweet concoctions the host made for everyone to enjoy. you both give each other glances here and there whilst people-watching.
the noise in the apartment increases as the tv volume is raised, shifting your attention the clock reads “11:58 pm”. the time runs and people begin to count down 60 seconds. hajime's hand slowly grabs at the one by your side. startled you quickly face him, he looks nervous but adorable.
“i…i like you, like a lot.”
you hear the start of ‘10…9…8…’
“and i didn’t know how to tell you, because you’re amazing and--” he knew he was rambling but it didn’t matter anymore.
‘5…4…3’
the smile on your face grows.
“just kiss me, dumbass.”
hajime blinks, and before he can say ‘huh’ you lean in, taking his lips into yours. from surprised to relaxed, his eyes flutter shut and his hands go to your waist, holding you lightly and enjoying the kiss as you both hear cheers and the noise of fireworks going off in the background.
you pull away and giggle, “happy new year, Hajime.”
still stunned, he can’t seem to find his words for a few seconds, “This is going to be such a good year...”
laughing at his comment and dazed expression you take his hand and pull him with you, walking towards the bathroom down the hall. he follows you and looks around nervously but no one notices you two as they are all engrossed with the festivities of music and dancing. the bathroom door is shut and locked and you both look at each other, basking in the silence and tension.
this time, Hajime is the first to make a move, grabbing your face and kissing you with the passion you’ve heard so much about. tongues dance and hands roam over each other, feeling bold you kiss down his neck and move lower, kneeling on the floor until you reach the waistband of his denim pants, teasing the button with your index finger.
his stunning eyes meet with yours from above, hooded with lust, you give him a wink, “If you let me, I can make the start of your year so much better.”
thx for reading and here's to 2024 <3
networks: @enchantedforest-network @angelshub
#♡.isa post#angelshubnetwork#haikyuu!!#iwaizumi hajime#sfw#hq!!#hq!! fluff#haikyu x reader#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi fluff#reader insert#one shot
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hesitated all my life (but i'm all done running)
RUNNING - NF
Haikyuu
Pairing - Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Additional Characters - Hanamaki Takahiro Matsukawa Issei
Tags - character study, angst with a happy ending, blood and injury, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced drinking, internalized homophobia, homophobia, homophobic language, starvation, dehydration, childhood trauma, heavy angst
Summary - Oikawa Tooru is mugged after volleyball practice and becomes the next victim in a cat-and-mouse game between a criminal and the police. Being tucked away underneath the floorboards of his practice court, Oikawa can no longer escape the overbearing feelings he has for his best friend. Iwaizumi Hajime tries to find his best friend before it's too late.
Word Count - 12,646
Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own
A volleyball rolls on the ground, far away from where the rest are contained in the set bin. It’s going to be painful getting it back, Oikawa knows. His knee has flared up in aching pain. He sits on the ground and rubs it back into a condition where it can take him around the gym to lock up, then home.
That walk is going to be rough. He doesn’t live far nor in a bad part of town, it’s that he has to actually travel on his bad knee. It’s going to take him at least five more minutes, maybe ten if he has to stop frequently. He sighs, pushing himself slowly off the ground when the pain subsides ever so slightly. It’ll have to do.
He limps to and fro the gym. He’s lucky he’s even playing. His injury over the summer nearly cost him the season, and he doesn’t know what he would’ve done if he had been benched. It’s his final year of schooling before he moves on to higher education. He already has a scholarship lined up, but nothing can quite replace this; the late nights in the gym, practicing solo drills over and over again until he collapses, and gazing up at the Aobai Johsai banners hanging limply from the walls.
And then, of course, there are the people he’ll be leaving behind. It’s not so much the school experience, but the friends and teammates he’s experienced triumph and defeat with. He doesn’t know what to do with the heavyweight in his chest when he realizes he will never sit on the same bench with them or play on the same side of the court. The only way that would be possible is if they all somehow managed to go to the same university as he is.
Which they aren’t. At least, only one of them has been accepted to the same university as him. He and Iwaizumi are sticking together, but not on the court. Iwaizumi isn’t playing collegiate volleyball.
Oikawa shakes himself loose as he turns off the lights of the gym. Getting emotional now will do horribly for his sleep tonight, which he so desperately needs. He has two major tests the next day, and not to mention a volleyball match that afternoon. They’d be playing an unranked school, but it’s a game nonetheless. He wants, and needs, to be well-rested and energized.
The door opens with effort on his part, and he steps out into the chilling air. Seasons are changing, and that makes the nights colder and stretch on for longer. The freezing breeze bites his bare skin, cooling the sweat on his arms, neck, and face. However, it stiffens his knee and reinvites all the pain he was carefully controlling a moment earlier.
He turns to lock the door behind him when his heart seizes. A click of a gun. Clicks. Multiple guns. He stares at the door, his hands frozen mid-air. His entire body stands as still and stiff as possible. Unwanted bile climbs up his throat in complete, unadulterated fear. He doesn’t want to turn in the case they think he has a weapon of his own, or that he’s making a break for it. He doesn’t want to do anything that might make them pull their triggers.
“Drop the bag. Empty your pockets,” a disembodied voice says. Oikawa drops the keys to the ground immediately, then shoulders his duffel bag off of his shoulder. He doesn’t have much in there — a volleyball, a pair of shoes, the set of dirty clothes he wore to practice, and his wallet, probably the only thing in the bag they’re going to want.
He turns out his pockets, slowly drawing out his phone on one side and a lighter on the other. He can’t explain the lighter without outing the fact that his girlfriend smokes and occasionally forgets her lighter — she then gets mad at him for not remembering to carry one, as though he’s the one who smokes.
Only Iwaizumi knows about that. He knows most things about his life that Oikawa wouldn’t tell other people. Things that he wouldn’t tell his own family or his girlfriend.
He wonders what Iwaizumi would say to Oikawa in this situation. Would he hold his hand with a silent promise to keep safe? Or would he somehow try to preserve their belongings by running, or fighting? Perhaps he would’ve seen the glint of the muggers' guns before they could move in from the shadows, and then they wouldn’t be in the situation in the first place.
Well. It doesn’t matter. Iwaizumi isn’t here. He left thirty minutes ago when Oikawa said he couldn’t stop practicing just yet. He’d only even stayed as long as he did under the pretense of walking home with Oikawa.
If they had left together, Oikawa wouldn’t be slowly turning around under the orders of other people. He wouldn’t be staring into the barrels of three guns. “Where’s your wallet? You trying to cheat us?” The middle guy threatens. The voice sounds the same as the other orders, so it must be the same guy. He’s probably the ringleader.
“It’s in— my bag. I can— I can get it out for you,” he says, stuttering through his words. His heart beats erratically in his chest, and it feels like his entire body trembles underneath the rabbit-fast rhythm. The men are wearing ski masks to hide their expressions, but the main guy doesn’t shoot or yell at Oikawa, so he thinks he made the right call.
The middle mugger indicates his gun in the direction of the bag. “Get it out, now.”
Oikawa crouches and tries not to flinch under the distinct sound of guns shifting to follow his movement. One gun is necessary for a robber, he supposes. Three is excessive. Oikawa is unarmed, quite injured, and certainly not trained to fight three robbers with guns at one time. They don’t have anything to fear.
He unzips his bag and pulls out his wallet. It pathetically shakes in his grip. He doesn’t want to part with it. It is a good amount of cash as well as his credit card, which is currently stockpiled with unspent money. He spent all summer working nearly every day, and he has yet to dig into his stash. The plan was to use it on getting a flight to and from Argentina, as well as the various other expenditures that would be required of him during his stay.
Collegiate isn’t his end goal. Argentina is in his sights.
But now, he has his hand out, departing with his money, identity, and bank account. They don’t have his social security, at least, but it won’t mean much with his ID card stolen. It will take him forever to replace all that he will lose.
No, he can prevent most of the damage. He just has to wait until he gets home, and then he’ll call the bank before they can buy much of anything. He can’t do anything about the physical yen , but that’s okay. It has to be the sacrifice.
“Phone. Tell me the passcode while you’re at it.”
Fuck. His social security is in there, as well as his bank. Not to mention it’s a phone, which is expensive and will definitely hurt to replace. But it’s not like he has a choice. The man on the left takes his wallet, and Oikawa grits his teeth against the pain in his knee to pick up his phone. He hands it over while saying the six-digit passcode, and then —
The man on the left says: “What are we doing with this one, boss?”
Boss. Oikawa’s mind reels at that. He thought they were just a couple of guys low on money which resulted in unsavory methods. There are only three of them, and their weapons don’t look spectacular, nor their clothes. Boss would indicate a gang, or yakuza, or some sort of organized crime.
Oikawa is well and truly fucked.
He doesn’t know what to do when the right and left men move forward, seizing his arms and keeping one gun to his temple and another in between his ribs. He wants to struggle, to somehow run away, except there are three guns and he is one injured man.
“The floorboards of the gym,” the one remaining says. “It should be interesting. I want to see how long it takes them to crack this one.” He lowers his gun, but that’s only to retrieve the rolls of black cords behind his back. They were probably stuffed there and hidden by his shirt, or something. Oikawa doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, other than the likelihood he’s going to make it out of this alive or sane has suddenly slimmed to a very, very small margin of possibility.
God, he has two tests tomorrow. He has a volleyball match. His mother is waiting for him at home with a cold dinner that he’s going to have to reheat. His sister is off working in a different district, but she’ll be home to visit in a couple of weekends. Iwaizumi usually texts him before they sleep, making sure he got home okay and that his knee wasn’t bothering him too badly.
His girlfriend...
They manhandle him into the gym and shove him out of their grip when he’s inside. He would’ve run, he would’ve done anything if it weren’t for the fact that they immediately pressed the gun back to his temple. The boss nods to one, and they trade places. The apparent boss starts wrapping Oikawa tight with a black cord while the other keeps Oikawa in check.
“What are you going to do to me?” Oikawa asks, the first question he’s been able to produce on his own since this whole thing started. His voice is rather small and too shaky for his own good. “Please, I’m just a student. I haven’t done anything wrong. I—”
“Stop begging,” the boss grumbles and pulls the restraint binding his arms to his back by crossing his entire abdomen. Another one spans his waist to bind his wrists. “I’ll reconsider this whole thing and just shoot you right here. Would you like that better?”
Oikawa only responds with a shake of his head. The boss scoffs and continues with the last two pieces of cord to wrap Oikawa’s ankles and legs. Beside them, the last man tears up the gym floor with a hammer he must’ve pulled out in a similar fashion as the ropes. The strips of wood give way easily under the prying end of the hammer.
He thought that there was only solid ground beneath the hard flooring of the gym. He was wrong. There, in the center of the left side of the volleyball net, is a rectangular, less than a foot hole. He tears up more to reveal the most of it that he can, showing that it spans just long enough to fit someone as tall as Oikawa.
“I did my research on this place. The yakuza used this place as a money and weapon stash, once. One of those holes on either side of the court. Hope you don’t have a preference,” the boss says, tugging the final restraint on his ankles. It nearly knocks Oikawa over, but the other man has a steady, iron grip on his shoulders. The gun isn’t needed any longer — Oikawa can’t do anything.
Without ceremony, the man behind him forces a strip of cloth in between his lips, painfully pulling the sides of his mouth and triggering an uncomfortable salivating response immediately. He ties it behind his head, secures it, and wraps duct tape several times around his head. All the while he supports Oikawa’s weight carefully on his chest and leg.
He drags Oikawa to the pit and dumps him onto his back. Oikawa lands hard on the cement, halfway onto his shoulder before he lays flat. He’s too afraid to try and plead again, to ask them to please reconsider. He can’t, in any case. The cloth and tape have him completely muffled. When he tries to make a sound, absolutely nothing reaches his ears.
“I would tell you I’m sorry for this,” the boss says, waving for the man to start replacing the flooring again, “but I couldn’t care less. I have this game with the police. I rob and hide people, they try to find the victims before they die of whatever torture I’m putting them through. Great fun. You will die of starvation, I hope.”
The boards are close to Oikawa’s face. Close. The end of his nose presses up against the board — it’ll break if the board gets pushed in too hard. Considering that most of this is empty space, and it’s the dead center of the court, it would be hard to not hit his nose.
“Right under their noses. To put it simply, you’re an insult. I’m playing a practical joke.” It’s not funny in the slightest. Oikawa’s hungry, tired, and utterly terrified. His mouth is rubbing raw from the gag, and the cord hugs his body too tightly to the point where it digs harshly into his skin and flesh.
They leave only after stomping on the replaced floorboards. The sound reverberates through his tiny space, made perfectly to fit just one human person. Made for a victim like Oikawa. The lights turn off, and Oikawa is, one hundred percent, alone.
His stomach growls in the silence of his underground coffin. It’s quiet. It’s nothing but darkness and silence and the adrenaline-boosted exhaustion of being robbed and then locked under his gym. He’s an insult to the police, a practical joke.
Body tingling with the edges of hunger, Oikawa does the absolute only thing he can do. He sleeps in a fitful, restless night, with his body encased in cement and his face pressed against the floorboards of the volleyball court. Sleeping may be too harsh-defined for what he did. It was more like closing his eyes, forcing his breathing to even out, before startling back awake to phantom sounds of guns clicking and feet walking above him.
He doesn’t cry, even though he wants to. His family will notice that he’s gone, his friends, his teammates, and probably his girlfriend. Iwaizumi will see that Oikawa didn’t respond, even though he always does. They’ll tear the world apart looking for him.
He hopes they will.
—
The door opens with a bang, and the only indication that the lights are turned on is from the faintest of yellow outlines in the toothpick-thin space between each board. Footsteps echo through the room, and presumably his head coach sets to work preparing for morning practice. Carts are rolled out from where Oikawa hid them in the closet the night before, and the head coach paces the area. It won’t be long before the team starts filtering in.
It’s never too late to get a head start, though. Oikawa shifts, trying to make as much noise as possible by hitting his feet against the boards. Tapping is all he can manage — the cords have him restrained oddly, the tight quarters of the cement on either side, and the fact that he’s already extremely close to the boards make it so he can’t utilize much force. He tries to make vocal noises, but that’s a lost cause. Nothing makes it past the gag and layers of duct tape.
Oikawa hears his head coach mutter something faintly, then the door opens again. “Good morning, Irihata-san,” Mizoguchi, the other coach, greets.
Irihata quickly shushes him. “Do you hear that? There’s this incessant tapping noise.”
They are silent for a beat. Then: “Maybe Oikawa used the bathroom and forgot to turn off the water. I’ll check.”
The sound of footsteps carries Mizoguchi away toward the bathrooms. Oikawa continues to tap the floorboards, but it’s getting harder with each passing minute. He hears the head coach pace the gym, occasionally getting near to Oikawa, but always turning before he can get close enough to register the exact location of the noise.
Multiple people filter in at once. They greet Irihata in a disjointed manner, and Oikawa does whatever he can to keep tapping. But his body will fail soon. It’s not meant to move in this way, pinned and held together by cords, with nothing but his core to lift his legs a couple of centimeters. And with the gag strangling his ability to breathe, the task becomes a lot harder than it should be.
He hears his friends, Hanamaki and Mastukawa, talk together and say nothing about Oikawa’s absence. Iwaizumi arrives much later than everyone else, much to the coaches’ chagrin. “Where’s Oikawa?” Mizoguchi asks, having returned from the bathrooms a few minutes ago.
Oikawa’s heart races as he waits for his best friend’s reply. I’m here, he wants to scream. Help me! “I have no idea,” Iwaizumi says. “His mother called me this morning asking if Oikawa spent the night with me. Which he didn’t, by the way,” he adds rather hastily. “He hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”
“Call him right now. If he’s hungover from a party or something, I don’t care. We’ve got a game today, and he needs to get his butt over here,” the coach orders.
“I don’t think…” Iwaizumi starts and then trails off. He’s likely getting the death stare, which would be funny if it weren’t for the fact that Oikawa’s anxiety is skyrocketing. Hunger has truly struck him now, having missed two meals already and suffered through an incomplete night of sleep. His friend’s phone rings faintly from where he’s standing closer to the door than to Oikawa.
Louder, he hears: “Hello! This is Oikawa. Sorry, you just missed me! Leave a message, and I’ll consider getting back to you.”
Hanamaki calls from further away: “He hasn't replied to either me or Mattsun.”
“He better have a good reason for this,” Mizoguchi grumbles. “Whatever. Everyone else is here, so no point in delaying practice any further.”
Oikawa’s real Hell begins here.
Each step reverberates through the cement and pounds into his ears. In the close encasement, it sounds like bombs are raining down on his coffin. After they complete their sideline drills, it takes exactly two nanoseconds for someone to step on the floorboards holding him in. His noise splinters and cracks under the pressure. Blood trails down the sides of his face, and suddenly, breathing becomes one of the hardest tasks he’s ever had to do.
He stops tapping the floor in order to carefully control the air flowing in and out of his nose. He can’t exert any effort with his bones misplaced and blood seeping out his nose. His eyes sting up with the tell-tale blur of forthcoming tears, and he shuts his eyes tight. He can’t start crying. If he does, it’ll open a floodgate, and then he really won’t be able to breathe.
Oikawa isn’t keen on dying just yet. They are going to realize he’s missing soon. Hopefully. Even if they, for some reason, think he was partying and got too drunk. Iwaizumi doesn’t think that. If he can just come to his senses and report him to the police, then maybe he’ll get out of here before starvation takes him.
Practice ends without Oikawa ever making an appearance. The bones of his nose have been shattered from repeatedly being smashed in unknowingly by his teammates. He has cried if only for the sheer pain he’s experiencing. It’s only survival instincts that keep his breathing even under the pressure of his broken bones. Iwaizumi had called him again during their small break, and still, voicemail. Even Hanamaki and Matsukawa tried, but they received the same response.
The coaches dismiss them with a thinly veiled threat to make sure Oikawa attends school so he can play the game. To Iwaizumi, Mizoguchi lays the punishment thicker. They know their close friendship, he supposes.
He can’t help but find it a little odd. He has time to dwell on it since everyone clears out of the gym and they shut off the lights. They don’t stick around, because Oikawa has stopped tapping the floor due to his shattered nose. He can’t make a noise.
A few pathetic tears slip down his face. This time from sorrow — any pain he feels has become a monotonous throb hidden behind the heavy pounding of his heart. His mouth dries out, and a headache builds at the base of his neck. Yet, he is utterly alone. Though it’s morning, his world is dark and contained in a cement coffin underneath the floorboards of his volleyball gym.
Oikawa doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to step foot in this place again once this is over. If he even gets out of here.
He presses his head as close as he can to the ground to relieve his nose of any kind of pressure, and he tries to sleep. Tries. He’s not very successful. More than anything, he’s bored and alone with only his thoughts to keep him company. No music, no entertainment, nothing. Just him, unbearable pain, and his incessant inner voice.
He thinks about his mother. He wonders if she’s worried sick about him, or if she thought he had been off at a party like his couches assumed. Oikawa wants to think that she knows him better than that; honestly, he’s not much of a party person anyway. Partying takes away from the time he could be spending watching matches and studying. School and volleyball are too important to him.
That doesn’t mean he hasn’t gone to a party. His friends have dragged him to them on occasion, but they’ve never had a problem with him leaving when he doesn’t feel like staying for long. He’ll pick them up if they need a drive home in exchange. His girlfriend doesn’t like it as much when he leaves, so he stays to please her.
He wonders if that’s why they’ve grown so distant. Oikawa can’t go to parties. He didn’t bring the right lighter. He has too many fangirls, too many high-level classes to attend, and too little time to spend with her, even though he tries so hard to make time.
The silent treatment recently has struck a chord in his heart. He doesn’t even know what he did wrong, but she won’t answer his texts and she looks the other way when he speaks to her. So he can’t even find out what happened. It’s driving him up the wall, but mainly, it’s made him upset.
Upset because he doesn’t even know if he wants to salvage their relationship.
His breath shudders as that thought crosses his mind, blatant and blaring like a police siren. Their downfall isn’t a tragedy, it’s merely an inevitable end. Oikawa had felt their tether loosening and splintering over the past few months. He doesn’t mind her smoking habits; he minds her jealousy streak, the way it’s always his fault and never hers, and how she really, really didn’t like Iwaizumi.
The slimmest reflection of his best friend sent his hands tremoring with a new kind of anxiety. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him recently — it’s like every time he sees Iwaizumi, his heart races, body heats, and tongue thickens, causing him to stumble over his words as though he’s a young girl giving a confession. It’s embarrassing.
He doesn’t know what it means. Or rather, he doesn’t want to know what it means. Oikawa would rather focus on anything else in the world, but bringing himself back to the present is worse than the tumultuous words banging around his head. All that’s here for him in reality is his various aches and pains, the sharp sting of the cords keeping his body tight and still, and the complete darkness of his cement coffin.
Iwaizumi is a much better topic to think of. He always has been, and always will be, and reflecting on their relationship is much more fun than focusing on his pain. And as he reflects on his odd ailments regarding Iwaizumi’s presence, he remembers the entire, sorrowful ordeal concerning the university.
Oikawa had a very quiet meltdown when Iwaizumi texted him about the university he’d sent an application to, decidedly one that was not the same as the one that had offered Oikawa a full-ride scholarship to play collegiate volleyball. The thought that they would be separated so soon after high school made him so unbearably upset, and he couldn’t even comprehend why. His reaction to Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s decisions had been bad, but not that bad.
The day Iwaizumi revealed where he was going to university was the day Oikawa blessed the sun, the moon, and the stars, and sent his gratitude to every god of every religion. He doesn’t think he’s clingy, but when he reflects on his stroke of luck, he rethinks his entire self. Maybe he isn’t clingy, per se, but he doesn’t like losing the things he loves. Like volleyball, which he’s signed to play collegiate for. His family, whom he would lay down his life for.
Iwaizumi.
Oikawa promised himself the moment they met eleven years ago that he wanted Iwaizumi to be his best friend to the end of time. He still holds to that now, even as he starves and breathes shallowly and evenly beneath the Aoba Johsai gym floor. There’s nothing false about his eternal vow. It’s just that love is a strong word to use for a best friend.
Yet, he cannot deny that he truly does love Iwaizumi. As an extremely close best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all they ever will be, and Oikawa knows this. He doesn’t know why there’s an achingly familiar pang in his chest so vastly unrelated to his current predicament when he repeats the label of their relationship. Best friend.
He redirects his thoughts to the tests he’s missing today. He’s in his last year of English language, and though his grades are fine, he can’t help but worry over structure. Everything has become a lot more complicated after they’ve started doing complex sentences, each one being in a different tense and containing vocabulary words he’s not sure he fully understands. He went over them with Iwaizumi the other night, and it honestly seemed like his friend was fairing much better with the vocab than Oikawa.
Before his mind can travel down that familiar road of late-night study sessions, he associates English with learning Spanish in his free time, then Spanish with Argentina, then Argentina with volleyball. And where there is volleyball, there is Iwaizumi. He’s right back where he started.
He tries aliens and the various theories that follow, but that goes even quicker to Iwaizumi than English had. His other test is Calculus, he thinks desperately, but then that goes to how he struggles with the equations and graphs and Iwaizumi can just do it so effortlessly —
Everything comes back to Iwaizumi. Always.
And that leaves him with the muggers, guns, cords wrapping his body tight, cloth and duct tape binding his mouth, and a broken nose strangling his breathing.
So he goes back to Iwaizumi in a vicious cycle that repeats until he falls into a frustrated, headache-induced sleep.
—
He wakes to nothing but the deep-set ache of his body and the tight constriction from starvation. His throat is dry and his mouth is sore from the gag.
Other than his breathing, he hears nothing. He cannot tell how far into the day it is, when school will let out, or when the next day will come. Since there’s a match, nobody will be in the practice gym all afternoon. He’ll have to wait until tomorrow to try his luck again.
Distantly, he wonders if they’ll notice him tomorrow. Oikawa may be weak at that point. A full day and a quarter without any food or drink is hard on the body. It’d be one thing if he was getting water, but he was barely even taking in an adequate amount of oxygen . This careful equilibrium can’t last him forever. Besides, if they keep crushing his nose underneath their feet, then he really won’t be able to breathe.
The thought is upsetting enough that he returns to the snake biting its tail. Iwaizumi and him. He and Iwaizumi.
He works on trying to pry the duct tape off by scraping it against the cement wall. It’s not like there’s anything else he can do. He’s pressed in close enough that it doesn’t work very well, and he has to take frequent and inhibiting brakes every thirty seconds or so on account of his nose. It’s positively miserable. More miserable is sitting and doing nothing in agony.
He questions fleetingly, with objective curiosity to cure incurable boredom, what it would be like if Iwaizumi was born a girl. Oikawa shuts it down before it can bloom. It’s not like he can imagine Iwaizumi looking any different, anyway.
—
It’s incredible how fast his thoughts turn sour.
In his intense avoidance of Iwaizumi, he ends up recounting his entire life from the point of remembrance to his current, unfortunate predicament. He starts off innocently enough, but then it moves on to the first embarrassing moment of his life. Then the next, and then the avalanche of his Worst Days comes crashing down on him in a violent flurry of misery and distress.
His stomach curdles and coils with hunger, uncomfortableness, guilt, and regret. Reliving your tragic memories of humiliation isn’t something he thought he’d be dealing with when he first got shoved underneath the floorboards. At that point, he’d been too scared to think about anything but his imminent death and what he could do to avoid it. However, now he’s alone and most of the initial terror has worn off — the anxiety of it all doesn’t quite abandon him — so all he’s left with is an impenetrable amount of boredom.
He recalls the times when he caused scenes over minor things, when he’s cried in front of his classmates in elementary and lower secondary school, and been unreasonably rude or angry to his friends and family. Those in particular make his head reel and jaw flex. He has a mean streak — he’s well aware, and he doesn’t always feel sorry after he’s laid a few thick words — but something about the cramped darkness of the gym floor has him rethinking his actions.
The words he could have chosen differently. The people he’s hurt.
God, he never apologized to Kageyama for that shit he pulled when they were younger. Slapping a child because Oikawa felt sorry for himself is such a shitty move that he can’t even find the wherewithal to come up with a better justification for it. Even though it happened literal years ago, his heart pangs, and his gut clenches in that familiar, pitiful self-loathing agony.
He spirals before he knows it, and it jumps so fast to yesterday, or the day before, or however long it’s been since he and Iwaizumi had gotten into an argument, the same old fight, and Iwaizumi left Oikawa to practice in the gym alone for longer than usual. Iwaizumi wanted to walk Oikawa home, as they usually do, but Oikawa was confounded with a fit of nerves and anxiety that was overall foreign to him.
Or rather, it had been foreign to him, but in the past few weeks, he’s noticed an uptick in tremoring heartbeat and frantic thoughts. Nothing had changed between him and Iwaizumi, not anything that Oikawa had picked up on. Yet, on the basis that he was sure he was going to have a nervous breakdown if he walked in the dark with his best friend, he vehemently denied the offer and said that he should practice more. Iwaizumi argued that his knee was hurting, which it was and despite Oikawa’s best attempt at lying, Iwaizumi saw right through him.
Oikawa resorted to his usual defense mechanism, except he was much worse. The insults he swore cut deeper than he intended, and he knows it’s because of this thing he’s developed around Iwaizumi that’s completely fried his nerves. Iwaizumi left before the argument could turn from normal to violent, as though he knew that Oikawa hadn’t been feeling his best.
It didn’t mean that his face wasn’t twisted when he slammed punched the gym doors open and that Oikawa spent the next thirty minutes pushing himself as hard as he could to forget his jittery nerves and the hurt expression on Iwaizumi’s face. For the most part, it had actually worked. His knee was in enough pain and his exhausted, sweaty body averted his attention.
He’s cognizant of the fact that he was being unreasonable and that there has to be a root cause of his apparent fear of being close to Iwaizumi despite the fact that they’d been that way for their entire friendship. It came with the territory of being friends since they were six, and staying that way until they were both seventeen and drank themselves into a stupor over their eleven-year friendship.
Alone. Together. Just the two of them in the backyard of Iwaizumi’s house when his parents weren’t home. It would be one of his favorite memories, honestly, if it weren’t for the intense anxiety and heartache it causes him to recall it. It’s the way Iwaizumi looked at the time, with his face flushed with alcohol and his lips looser than usual, calling Oikawa more endearing terms than meaningless insults. He can’t remember much from that night past the hours they spent downing shots and cups that gradually led to a horrid, impromptu one-on-one volleyball match that ended with them sprawled out on the grass, laughing and making non-existent shapes of the stars hanging above them.
Oikawa woke up in Iwaizumi’s bed with the worst hangover in his entire life, pressed close to Iwaizumi, and starfished around him like a jellyfish clinging to an unsuspecting human leg. His and Iwaizumi’s torsos were bare, and thank fuck their pants were on or Oikawa would have had a panic attack for not remembering their first time together.
His thoughts come to a halt at that, and he feels his neck and face heating at the imagery of sex with his best friend. Who is a boy. Who is someone that Oikawa is not at all attracted to, and never will be attracted to. It’s embarrassing, he concludes, that he would even entertain the idea for more than half a second.
His heart palpitates and his breathing falls uneven, sending a spike of panic through his veins as he struggles to take in air through his shattered nose. It doesn’t help that he’s now actively thinking about having sex with Iwaizumi, even though he keeps trying to banish the thought. He blames it on the gym floor and boredom. He doesn’t want it to be anything else.
Even if his whole body twinges at the phantom feelings of his best friend planting kisses on his face, licking his neck, roughly unbuttoning his shirt, and sliding his hands down past Oikawa’s boxers. He moans into Oikawa’s ear, and instead of being entirely aroused, Oikawa feels uncomfortable and insurmountably guilty. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts – not about his best friend, who is not a girl and is very much a boy. He pushes imaginary Iwaizumi away from his two-thirds exposed body, unfathomably worsening his guilt and regret, and forces his mind to search for another topic.
Anything else. Please. Anxiety thrums through him as he keeps coming back to Iwaizumi, and his family, and about how horrified they would be if they found out Oikawa had been having these wretched, immoral fantasies. Ones that he’s tried for years to control but keep coming back to haunt him like a restless ghost. He can’t imagine the anger and betrayal Iwaizumi would feel if he ever had a peak into Oikawa’s intrusive, unforgiving mind. Iwaizumi would never talk to Oikawa again. Their eleven-year-long friendship would splinter and snap like a twig, and Oikawa’s friends would all leave him because he keeps pulling Iwaizumi back to him, pressing his hands to his chest, and tearing him apart with his mouth even though Iwaizumi is the same sex as him and that makes this so, so wrong.
The metal doors of the gym creak and groan. Multiple sets of footsteps glide into the court, carrying them only a few paces before they stop entirely. They’re probably grouped at the front.
“Is there any place he could be hiding?” An unfamiliar voice asks. It’s deep and masculine, and the distinct sound of clanging metal makes him wonder if the group of people is the police coming to investigate his disappearance.
His evil fantasy disbands before him like dust in the wind. He focuses on the conversation, trying to regain his breath so he might be able to tap on the floor. If anyone can find him, it would be them or Iwaizumi. Distantly he thinks that Iwaizumi wouldn’t make a horrible officer.
Speak of the devil. “The changing rooms is where I’d look first. Nobody saw him at practice, but he spends more time here than anyone else. If there’s a place to hide, he knows it,” Iwaizumi says. His voice is tight and tired. Oikawa's heart starts hurting all over again, and something akin to strong desire throws his breathing far off-kilter again.
Moreover, the fact that Iwaizumi is directing the police to look here, where Oikawa really is. They are so close. They just need to focus and see that he’s right under their noses. If the men who did this to him were able to find out that the yakuza used this gym once — the thought sends a shiver down his spine. How long has it been since they abandoned it? Were they still using it when Oikawa attended in his first and second year, waiting for him to leave the gym so they could unload weapons, drugs, and God-forbid bodies? — then surely the police could as well.
Surely, he thinks when they pass over his coffin. Not all of them went to the locker room. Some were directed to search the main area while they thoroughly ransacked the changing room. Unfortunately, Oikawa hadn’t left anything behind when he finished practice. He doesn’t like to give any indication he was there in the first place, which is an odd behavior he’s kept since he was young. Even though the whole team knows he stays for an hour or so after practice is over, Oikawa refuses to leave a trace of his presence.
Oikawa knows exactly where, when, and why this habit developed. It doesn’t matter, now, though. His father has been out of his life for seven and a half years. He has no reason to be thinking about the awful man any further.
“And you’re sure he had no connections with any gangs, drug dealers, or the yakuza?” An officer asks, their voices filtering in as they re-enter the court.
“Yes, I don’t—” Iwaizumi’s voice cuts out abruptly. It sounds so unlike his best friend that Oikawa could honestly cry. “I didn’t go through hours of interrogation for it to continue here. Just do your job and find him.”
It’s not an officer’s place to give condolences or comfort where they aren’t strictly necessary, so the policeman predictably doesn’t respond Oikawa’s still not breathing right; every voice he hears sends jolts through his aching head, knocking away all of the progress he’d made in the second before. He can’t scream to let them know that he’s here, that someone from his past or a mugger playing an awful practical prank has laid him under the floorboards to die.
They pass over him without pausing. His nose is bent far enough back that their footballs are unable to damage it any further. Splitting in different directions, he assumes Iwaizumi is going back in the direction of the changing rooms while the police officer heads the opposite way. Oikawa has the sickening premonition that they aren’t going to find him after all.
Oikawa is overridden with panic and dread as they search through the gym and come up with nothing. They meet in the middle after a while, and a long, tense silence stretches among them. “Nothing?” One asks. Another parrots the same word as an answer. “Then let's keep going. Iwaizumu-kun, take us down his usual route home.”
“... Okay,” Iwaizumi consents.
Oikawa never got his breathing under check in time. He continues to struggle, wondering if the light-headed feeling is coming from the lack of oxygen, hunger, dehydration, or sorrow. Most likely an amalgamation of all four to maximize his misery. The door closes behind them and locks into place.
He is alone. Even his intrusive thoughts are unable to keep him company as he silently processes the likelihood that he will die.
—
Memory is inherently fallible, but Oikawa remembers his father perfectly. It’s a trick of the universe, another set of unwanted thoughts to corral his misery. He’s too tired to fight them anymore. Hunger and thirst have started to drain him in earnest.
In truth, he didn’t get to see his father that often. The custody agreement between him and his mother meant that Oikawa only went to his dad’s house on the weekends. He didn’t hate his dad at the time, but he certainly enjoyed his mom’s place more. She had all of the posters he liked, the action figures from his favorite comics, three volleyballs, and most importantly, Iwaizumi. He only lived a few houses down from his mom’s house, while his dad lived on the other side of the city. Much further away from Iwaizumi, which made it extremely inconvenient for Oikawa to hang out with his best friend.
Oikawa was young at the time. He didn’t have any comprehension of divorce, or why his mom and dad lived in two separate houses. It didn’t matter to him, really. It wasn’t until he was older that he was slowly taught all of the reasons why his father was abhorrent, and why Tooru should strive to clear the dirt off the Oikawa family name.
He was seven years old when he first heard the word fag at his dad’s house. It was about some television show his father and his friends were watching, strewn around the living room while having Oikawa serve them beer at intervals. They laughed loudly, and when Oikawa came into the room with four bottles balancing carefully in his arms, his father said the words that continue to haunt Oikawa to the present day:
“Never be a dirty bastard like that, son, or I might just have to kill you myself.”
His dad said things like that. Casual threats, slurs to anyone different than himself, and overall degrading comments to women. His dad’s friends weren’t any better, and they tended to goad his behavior rather than amend it. The abnormality of his father’s personality became more apparent to him as he got older.
Iwaizumi’s dad didn’t leave bruises on the places where he gripped too tight. Iwaizumi’s dad didn’t leave cans of beer on the ground for his son to clean up. Iwaizumi’s dad was nothing like his own dad. Oikawa liked Iwaizumi’s house better than he liked his dad’s house.
Oikawa’s room was barren at his dad’s house. He tended to keep people over when Oikawa wasn’t there — and he did when he actually was there, sometimes — so he was ordered to pick up anything that might indicate that he even had a son in the first place. Of course, Oikawa knows why that happened: his father invited women to his house almost every night. Multiple, in many cases. They couldn’t all sleep in one bed, so they were delegated to what was supposed to be Oikawa’s room.
Then there was the other stuff. His dad didn’t like how Oikawa preferred to keep himself pristine and clean, didn’t particularly enjoy any other sport than volleyball, and hadn’t shown much interest in any of the girls in his class. He only really talked about Iwaizumi, and when he met them, Mastukawa and Hanamaki. His father would warn him not to be a disgusting homosexual, and that would be that.
Oikawa only got to learn about the really bad things after his father killed himself in the living room on a Saturday night.
He was ten years old, and the sound of the killing gunshot woke him up from his shallow slumber. His room was plain and bland, just like always, with his clothes packed in his duffel bag. He raced down the stairs and found his father dead on the couch with two empty bottles at his side.
It’s only on bad nights that Oikawa recalls this. And on those bad nights, he calls Iwaizumi, who always manages to answer him despite the fact that it’s three in the morning and they have morning practice, or Iwaizumi’s at the beach, or something or the other.
He only ever asks to hear Iwaizumi’s voice. His best friend always obliges. They don’t talk about it the next day, though even if Iwaizumi asked, Oikawa would have denied him. He doesn’t like to think about it, much less talk about it.
Besides, he doesn’t know what to do with the guilt that overrides him on those nights, and the day after when his mind supplies him with the gruesome scene of his father’s pink and red brains splayed out over the dirt brown couch.
The truth is, Oikawa doesn’t feel sorry that his dad committed suicide.
He feels sorry that he had to see it. He feels sorry that his mother suffered all his dad’s abuse and degradation for years, yet not be able to obtain full custody of her children. His father was a piece of shit through and through, and Oikawa does not mourn his death as a seventeen-year-old.
Oikawa only fears the person he will become, fears that to this day, his father clutches his mind so tight that he thinks his own brain matter is seeping between his fingers.
“Never be a dirty bastard like that, son, or I might just have to kill you myself.”
The disembodied voice echoes and bangs around his skull like a bullet’s ricochet path. Bile climbs up his throat when he thinks about Iwaizumi and all of the nasty thoughts he’s had about him in the eleven years of their friendship.
Oikawa’s father is dead, but the weight of his impact clings to him as though he were still alive to repeat those threats. Oikawa knows that the world has differing views on homosexuality, but he also knows that in the Miyagi Prefecture, there are way too many people who hold similar, if not identical, beliefs. Oikawa plays men’s volleyball for God’s sake. If he was gay, they’d all turn their backs on him. They might beat him, leave him for dead, or shoot him in through the temple like his dad did to himself all those years ago.
That’s why Oikawa likes girls, not boys. He doesn’t like Iwaizumi that way, despite his brain unhelpfully supplying him with the night they got drunk out of their minds in his backyard.
Oikawa only enjoys alcohol when he’s with Iwaizumi. That he can admit to without feeling a convoluted mess of emotions that make him want to rip out his hair, which he can’t do regardless. His arms are tied firmly to his back, and he doesn’t have nearly enough space to attempt wiggling out of the cords.
He wonders what his father would do in this situation, but he can’t imagine he’d be in it in the first place. He would’ve gotten himself killed in the process of being robbed, probably. Then, he reprimands himself. He doesn’t want to do whatever his father would do. That man was a liar, a bastard, and a cheat.
Oikawa pretends he’s called Iwaizumi. Pretends that his chest isn’t constricted with the terror that he’s become exactly like his father. Pretends that he doesn’t want Iwaizumi to hold him tight in his arms, because his father would kill him if wanted that, his teammates would abandon him, he’d never be successful in his professional career, he’d stain the family name more than it already has been, he—
—
It takes ten years for the doors to be opened again. According to his vague perception of time, — calculated mainly on his increasing thirst and hunger — Oikawa thinks it should be time for morning practice. That means a day and a quarter has passed underneath the floorboards. He feels gross from the dirt and dust coating his body. A shower would be nice. So would food, water, more than two centimeters of space to move, and real human interaction.
Alas, every man wants what they cannot have.
Instead of the slow pace and quiet grumbles of Irihata, two sets of footsteps land heavily on the gym floor. They rattle the cement coffin, though they never quite step on top of him. “Oikawa!” Hanamaki’s familiar voice calls. “This isn’t fucking funny! Oikawa!”
After a beat of silence that is filled entirely with Oikawa’s mental screams of desperation, his other friend’s voice cuts in. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s here,” Matsukawa says, and there’s an edge in his tone that Oikawa isn’t fond of.
“Fuck,” Hanamaki sighs. It’s truly amazing how one word can summarize Oikawa’s entire situation.
He hears the distinct rustling of paper and his friends moving a few paces. The pulling and ripping of tape comes next, and while Oikawa knows they’re putting something on the wall, he’s a little lost as to what. “This feels useless,” Makki professes.
“It’ll guilt the team into trying harder to find him,” Mattsun steadfastly replies. An unsettling feeling coils in his stomach when he realizes that his friend is being reasonable. Not only that, he’s become a comforting figure. Truly terrifying. The world may as well collapse underneath their feet.
Another lull haunts their conversation, as though they can’t quite figure out what to say. Or rather, everything that they wanted to share had already been discussed before they arrived at the gymnasium. Either way, it helped Oikawa very little in terms of gleaning information about the living world.
“LSD,” Makki starts. The word makes Oikawa’s eyebrows furrow painfully, given his pounding headache. “All his money went to LSD and some other drug, right? That doesn’t seem right.”
What?
“He barely even drank, and he was saving for a trip to Argentina,” Mattsun agrees.
“He seemed nervous, though, right? Like, all last month.” Makki pauses. Then, “Do you think—”
“No gangs. Oikawa doesn’t have the guts for that.” Oikawa would be offended in any other scenario. But, given his predicament and the dots connecting in his head, a bitter taste fills his parched mouth instead. “Besides, we agreed his behavior was linked to college and Iwaizumi. Getting into a gang and doing hard drugs is far out, even for us.”
What the fuck, Oikawa thinks incredulously, do they mean by that.
“Shit. I hate this. I hate this so much. It’d be easier if he ran away. At least he’d be okay. And we’d probably know where he went,” Makki rambles, then follows up with a string of curses.
Matsukawa mutters inaudibly. A little louder, he says: “We aren’t helping anyone by standing here. Let’s get changed.”
Out of all the things they’d said in their short conversation, that threw Oikawa for a loop the most. If it’s morning practice, then they should already be in their practice clothes. Their footsteps led away to the changing room, leaving Oikawa to stew in his thoughts as he always does.
A second later, the door opens again. This time, Oikawa is sure it’s Irihata. He’s usually there after one or two early players in the afternoon practice. though the fact that Hanamaka and Matsukawa are the early ones this time calls for concern. He knows why. They’re worried for him.
The anxiety and despair crushes any warmth he may have felt at the sentiment. Not only is it afternoon practice, meaning his perception of time is worse than he imagined, but morning practice had been canceled, likely from his disappearance. It surprises him — one person not being able to show up shouldn’t have made his coaches cancel the whole thing. Unless, of course, the brief investigation happened in the morning rather than at night as Oikawa originally thought.
More irritating than anything is that Oikawa has absolutely no way of confirming this unless someone happens to talk about it at a distance where he can hear, and the likelihood of that occurring is even worse than his chance of making it out alive. He resigns himself in his bristling agitation as Irihata begins setting up the court and more players, along with Mizoguchi, enter the gymnasium.
Iwaizumi’s gruff greeting captures Oikawa’s attention for a second. It doesn’t sound like much at first, but for the second day in a row, he’s come far later than the rest of the team. He knows the observation isn’t lost on his coaches, yet they opt out of saying anything about it. They let Iwaizumi pass through to the changing room without so much as a hint of displeasure.
Oikawa feels his heart hurt unbearably in his chest. Iwaizumi and Oikawa usually walk together to practice, and if they don’t, they’re on time regardless. Lateness could only mean Iwaizumi was waiting for a person who will never come, or searching for a friend whom he won’t find.
We agreed his behavior was related to college and Iwaizumi, Matsukawa’s voice echoes in his head, only slightly overshadowing the rough threat of his father.
He’d been as discreet as he could over the past few weeks. He didn’t hang out with his friends any less, didn’t break up with his girlfriend out of the blue, and certainly didn’t do anything to indicate that his heart rate went through the roof when he was with Iwaizumi for more than five whole seconds. The issue of his anxiety was something he resigned to solving by himself. Enough self-berating over time should have done the trick.
Except it didn’t, and his friends were able to pick up on it. His father, Matsukawa, and his own voice run together in a murky, slow-moving river. It rises past his shoulders and clogs his nose with muck.
“Before we begin,” Mizoguchi begins after all of the players gather in a stiff silence, “if anyone has any idea where Oikawa Tooru has gone, speak now. I don’t care if someone has given you hush money. This is bigger than pride or volleyball or whatever profit you made. A real person’s life is at risk.”
The silence prevails. Oikawa screams behind his cloth gag and layers of duct tape.
Mizoguchi continues awkwardly. “Practice and games will continue like normal. Please, keep your eyes out for Oikawa. Don’t stop searching.”
Practice is only marginally more bearable than last time. His headache splinters the space between his eyes from the constant rattling of the cement and floorboards. Although his nose is no longer in mortal danger of being broken again, he can’t quite pull it far enough back. The wood bending under hard, falling feet, chests, arms, and the occasional butt, still taps his nose in painful bursts. It makes it hard to breathe, and he spends most of practice filled to the brim with panic. Less so because he thinks he will die from suffocation, though always a prevalent fear, but because not being able to breathe makes the heart behave erratically.
His best friend leads the drills, just like he had the day before. While he isn’t toned down at all, he definitely seems out of it. Talking to the same person every day for eleven years has allowed them to gain the innate ability to tell when something is wrong with the other using simple inflections of the voice if no physical cues are given. Oikawa’s disappearance is bothering him a lot. More than Oikawa would have guessed.
He’s only been gone for nearly two days. They could easily guess that he’s run away, taken his trip to Argentina a little earlier without telling anyway, or got really messed up on LSD, if his friends’ earlier conversation is anything to go by. It wouldn’t be wrong for them to still hope that he’d pick up his phone soon and respond to the texts and calls they’d sent him.
Of course, that isn’t what happened. Hajime knows him too well. He knows that Oikawa could never keep plans of running away a secret for so long, that he still doesn’t have quite enough for his Argentina vacation yet, and he’s never been high despite the several attempts made by others. He doesn’t smoke and can count on his fingers on one hand the amount of times he’s been tipsy or drunk. The obvious conclusion Iwaizumi would come to is that Oikawa has been kidnapped or murdered.
The reality is a mixture of both. Oikawa has a feeling that Iwaizumi knows that, too.
Hearing his taut voice order the players around in place of Oikawa is too much for him to bear. It sends spikes of anxiety and such intense longing through his veins, and for the first time in his life, he can’t smother it. He can’t pretend it’s about anything else, because he isn’t doing anything else. There’s no person he can turn to blame his tremoring body on, no place to direct the pull of his heart, no game to accuse of causing his elevated temperature.
And when Iwaizumi leaves, the last person to do so without actually practicing any extra drills, Oikawa feels a part of himself leave, too. The part that has been held in Iwaizumi’s hands since they were six years old.
However, Iwaizumi fails to take Tooru’s hysterical emotions with him. It remains trapped with him in the six-foot by ten-inch coffin.
He has no road to run away from his feelings.
He takes a deep breath through his nose, experiences the pain it creates, and cries.
—
Time passes without him. It could be the next day, next month, or next year. It’s impossible to keep track anymore. All he knows is that he’s steadfastly dying under the floorboards of the practice gym, and nobody has come to tear him out of his coffin. They are only going to realize their mistake when his corpse is rotting and emitting a foul smell that attracts ants and maggots alike to feast on his flesh. His silent heart and brain will be the delicacies they save for dessert.
Practice occurs four more times: morning, afternoon, morning, afternoon. Oikawa’s convinced he’s missed some more in between there. He drifts in and out of sleep, but never long enough to allow him dreams or make him feel well-rested. He’s hungry, so unbearably hungry, and he can’t quite feel his mouth anymore. The only sensations he comprehends are the cloth pressuring his aching teeth and the duct tape sticking to his skin.
It comes to a head at no specific given point. Practice ended some time ago, and he is alone as usual. There’s nothing special about this time, and yet.
He thinks about Iwaizumi, as he has been recently. Always is his friend accompanied by the harsh words of his father, mainly because when he imagines Hajime, he’s pressing a kiss to Oikawa’s head and reassuring him that everything will be okay.
For the first time, it occurs to Tooru that his worst nightmare will come true. His number one fear, just after being outed and suffering ridicule for his sexuality, is that he will become just like his father.
Oikawa hasn’t gone out of his way to treat women poorly, but he knows that his long history of short relationships can’t be blamed on the individual girls. He doesn’t drink often, but he has and that’s worth something. This slow death of his is practically his fault, making it suicide. He hasn’t done enough tapping or wriggling or shoving.
He’s homophobic to a fault.
A painful memory resurfaces in his mind. He was sitting on a couch in Iwaizumi’s living room, two years after his dad shot himself in the head, and they were watching some television show that happened to be on. Oikawa doesn’t remember all the details. He doesn’t have to; only one scene matters.
It happened to be that two men kissed on the screen at that very moment. Iwaizumi wasn’t paying much attention, since he was actually doing his assigned homework that Oikawa was definitely not procrastinating on. The couple had been developing at a fast rate in the episode, and Oikawa’s conflicting emotions prevented him from properly distancing himself from the screen.
As such, when the scene occurred, he made a noise that was something between a gag and a whine. Iwaizumi looked up in slight alarm, looking from Oikawa, to the screen, then back to Oikawa. Raising an eyebrow, he said: “Are you okay?”
“I– uh— is that not… weird to you?” Oikawa nodded to the screen, and he felt the flush on his neck that had quickly overtaken the biting cold that had drained his body all at once.
Iwaizumi’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “What?”
“That!” Oikawa waved a shaky hand at the men who were then holding onto each other. “That shouldn’t be on screen. Right?”
Even then, Tooru’s inner conflict had raged within him. As young as twelve, he’d recognized that he was different from other people. But, at that point, his father’s death was still fresh in his mind, along with the words that would continue to haunt him for years to come. Oikawa will never forget the affronted look on Iwaizumi’s face when he realized what Oikawa was specifically pointing out.
“Don’t be an asshat, Oikawa. Boys can like other boys. Girls can like other girls. Get over yourself,” Iwaizumi asserted and then returned to his homework.
They didn’t bring it up again after that.
There were more times that Iwaizumi got hints of Oikawa’s homophobia, like when he’d startle seeing two men holding hands or two girls dancing close together in the rain. Iwaizumi would give him a look, slap him on the back or head, and that would be it. It didn’t take long for Oikawa’s outward homophobia to dissipate. He dragged it all inward, pointed it to himself, and let people live their lives without his hateful judgment.
But homophobia is homophobia, regardless of who it’s being directed to. He doesn’t care anymore when two people of the same gender share a kiss, hold hands, or dance. At least, that’s what he told himself. Oikawa reflects, and he recognizes the viper of jealousy that strangles his intestines.
He cares that people care about him, and the image he needs to uphold, and the father that’s been dead for years but is still terrified of disappointing. He’s denied himself the happiness reflected in the eyes of couples by forcing himself into relationships that won’t work because, quite simply, he doesn’t like girls.
He never has, and he never will. It’s the exact sentiment that would’ve driven his father into beating Oikawa until his heart stopped beating and then killing himself again.
His father was homophobic. So is Oikawa, despite his best efforts not to be.
He doesn’t want to be like his father. He doesn’t want to die a liar, a bastard, and a cheat.
For so long, he’s listened to that deceased voice like it can come back and kill him, like his words carry more weight than the dirt he’s buried in. Oikawa knows what it’s like in his country, and he’s aware that his father’s views were a little more radical than most. He won’t get shot in the back of his head by his teammates, and they certainly wouldn’t kick their best player off the court.
Besides, he doesn’t have to tell them anything. They aren’t entitled to his personal life — if they want to make assumptions when he stops dating girls, so be it. He’s not going to keep lying and lying and lying.
He will tell Hajime, and he won’t cut the truth down. He’ll tell his best friend that he’s gay, that he’s been in love with him for at least three years, and that if this changes anything between them, Oikawa will understand.
The thought of Iwaizumi separating himself from Oikawa’s life entirely is painful. It hurts more than his stomach eating itself to survive. But this way, he won’t be like his father. He won’t run from his problems any longer. The voice in his head will mean less than the scuff on the bottom of his shoe. Tooru will be an Oikawa in name only.
He just has to be found.
Please, he prays, uncaring of which god his words reached, I’ll do it. Please don’t let me die as my father. Please don’t let me die. I’ll do it. I’ll tell him I love him. I won’t keep living a lie. I don’t want to die. Please.
Oikawa barely hears the doors open over the pounding of his headache. He’s had it for so long that it should’ve become dull and forgettable, but he’s been acutely aware of its growing intensity. What little water is left in him is wasted by the tears trickling down his face in slow, agonizing droplets.
He knows he will die before the next practice.
The tell-tale rattle and shake of feet stepping on the gymnasium floor startles him. They pace directly to where Oikawa thinks the flyer is. Matsukawa and Hanamaki taped it up to the wall a while back, but it’s clearly not done any good. Oikawa is still missing, and he won’t be found.
Then, the sound of ripping paper cuts through his headache like a steaming knife in sharp bread.
“Damn it!” Iwaizumi yells, and his previously faint heartbeat picks up rapidly in Oikawa’s chest. “Where are you? Where are you? I can’t do it anymore. You never left. I know you didn’t. You’re somewhere in here, and I can’t—” His voice breaks into choked sobs. “Where did you go?”
Oikawa can’t breathe. Every breath hurts more than the last like a searing firestick being jabbed directly into his lungs. There isn’t enough energy in his body to keep him alive for much longer.
For the first time, he ignores his shattered nose. He ignores the fact that he cannot breathe at all without pain splintering his head as though he’s a piece of firewood being chopped in half by an unskilled lumberjack. He takes his feet and slams them as hard as he can against the floorboards. It’s probably not as loud or effective as he imagines it would be if his body wasn’t ninety-nine percent of the way dead from starvation, but he does it anyway.
And he does it again, and again, and again. All the while, he pressed his face as close as he could to the floorboards, willing his nose to be felt as an odd lump underneath Iwaizumi’s foot. His chest constricts, his heart unable to keep up with the effort he’s applying. It’s why he hadn’t done this before — the likelihood he’d make it out alive would be slim to none.
Well, if he doesn’t try now, he will die regardless.
“Oh my God,” he hears Iwaizumi exclaim, horrified, as his foot finds Oikawa’s nose. As soon as he hears his best friend and feels the pressure against his broken bones, he passes out. He knows this because when he opens his eyes next, his body is limp on the cement, and the distinct sound of metal scraping the floor filters through toothpick-thin cracks.
The wood peels up off the floor, right on top of Oikawa’s eyes. The brightness of the gymnasium lights hits his fattened pupils hard, for he’s staring directly at a burning light fixture above.
He blacks out again.
The time discrepancy between his past and current wakefulness is shorter because Iwaizumi has barely started on another board. He’s slow to comprehend his surroundings and sensations, staring blankly at the peeling wood without much going on outside of his slowing heart.
“I’m gonna get you out. Don’t die. Don’t fucking die,” Iwaizumi warns between heaving gasps in the struggle against the wood, and Oikawa truly sees him.
Iwaizumi’s short hair is more tangled and mussed than usual. His voice is frantic, hard, and frail all at the same time. He’s wearing one of his pajama shirts with his cross necklace dangling off of it. Oikawa gave it to him as a good luck charm a year ago, more so to tease him about the fact that he’s baptized, though he doesn’t believe in the Christian God. He knew Iwaizumi wore it every now and again as a fashion icon rather than his baptized status.
The sight of it now encourages his heart to keep him alive a little longer.
Tear stains mark Iwaizumi’s face as he rips out floorboard after floorboard. Oikawa doesn’t know when he stopped crying, or when Oikawa started. The scent of fresh air hits his shattered nose in a wave of flowers with thorns sticking out of every fiber. The bulbs strangle his eyesight as his pupils slowly adjust to light after bearing complete darkness for so long. The rest of his body has gone numb entirely, save for his headache.
When the last board is pulled out, Iwaizumi drags his dead weight out of the shallow cement coffin. Oikawa’s ears ring as he’s dropped onto the wooden floor, and it takes everything in him to not pass out again. His best friend wastes no time in picking at the duct tape holding his lips together, and then untying the gag that has rubbed the edges of his mouth into raw. Those parts of the cloth are stained with Oikawa’s blood.
Oikawa takes his first, deep breath of fresh air. It prickles his dry throat, and he greedily takes in all that he can in the shortest amount of time possible. He knows he must look like a drowning fish, what with his mouth gaping open and water streaming down his face, but he doesn’t care.
His mouth is open, and he can close whenever he wants. He can make sounds, and he can breathe.
“Oh my God,” Iwaizumi repeats. He’s shaking as he finds the tied ends of the cords, untying Oikawa as fast as he can. Unfortunately, Oikawa is extremely unhelpful in this process as he gets his bearings, processing the arms that are now free, the mouth that is open by his free will, the air flowing through his lungs, and the Aoba Johsai banner hanging loosely from the ceiling.
Once the final cords come off on his ankles, Iwaizumi pulls him into a tight hug. It crushes his chest and weak bones, and Oikawa would tap out of it if not for the fact that this is Hajime, who’s wound his hand through Tooru’s greasy hair and is holding on like Oikawa is his lifeline. His body is trembling and his chin rests against Oikawa’s head.
From this position, Oikawa’s ear is pressed to Iwaizumi’s chest. The beat of his friend’s heart is set in a fast, comforting rhythm. In this hold, he’s warm and safe. He wants to stay in Hajime’s arms until the world catches fire, and for some reason, he thinks Iwaizumi would let him.
Naturally, he breaks away from the hug.
Iwaizumi’s right hand remains tangled in Oikawa’s hair, but the other drops soundlessly from his back. The loss of contact makes him shiver. Hajime’s turbulent gaze is enough to get Oikawa to make use of his aching arms, bringing them up to cup Iwaizumi’s face in his hands.
His cheeks are warm to the touch. His jaw is trembling in Tooru’s weak hold. Oikawa’s arms are too weak to hold this position for long.
Iwaizumi starts to say something, and Oikawa can tell it’s going to be an apology, to ask how he’s feeling, and if he’s okay. Oikawa doesn’t give him the chance. He leans forward and presses their lips together, savoring the way Iwaizumi’s wet lips feel against his own, healing the cracks and split, bloody ends.
Their kiss only lasts but a second. Hajime doesn’t reciprocate, and Oikawa can’t physically deepen their kiss. His mouth is far too dry and weak, and his arms are shaking with the effort it takes to keep them up. He pulls back, opening his eyes to find Iwaizumi staring wide-eyed back at him with his lips slightly parted.
Oikawa knows what this means, and although he told himself it would happen, it doesn’t make it sting any less.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his throat scratching on every syllable, struggling to produce anything above a hoarse whisper. “I’m so sorry. I can’t—- live like this. I won’t run from you— anymore.” His salty tears flow over the sticky residue of the duct tape and slip into his mouth. Iwaizumi’s holding onto his wrists, keeping Oikawa’s arms from falling away from his face. He still has that shining stare that stabs Oikawa’s heart. “I’m in love with you. I’m— sorry I’m like— like this. I’m—”
Then lips are pinned against his own, silencing his rambling, shaky apologies. This time, it’s Oikawa who isn’t reciprocating. His mind has stuttered to a stop with the fact that his best friend instigated a kiss with him, and when he pulls away, he finds Iwaizumi’s eyes aren’t hard and disappointed. One of his wrists is dropped, but only to allow Hajime to rub his thumb across Oikawa’s cheek.
Hajime offers the barest hint of a smile, though it doesn’t hide the quiver of his lips. “Will it take you dying again to see how long I’ve been in love with you?”
And Oikawa can’t help it, really, when sobs tear away his soul. He collapses forward into Hajime’s chest, and Iwaizumi cradles him as gently as he can. His head splits and his eyes drain away the rest of his body fluids. He’s dry, completely, and all that’s left are desperate gasps and pained coughs while Iwaizumi repeats how worried he was, and that he’s so glad that Oikawa’s alive.
“I’m— going to die,” Tooru somehow manages. “Food. Water.”
Immediately, Hajime shifts to grab his phone from his pocket. It takes him less than a second to dial the correct numbers.
“Hello, this is one-one-nine. What’s your emergency?” A dispatcher answers.
“I need an ambulance,” Hajime says shakily, and the hand he has in Oikawa’s hair tightens only a fraction. It’s painful for his headache, but comforting all the same. Human contact is something he has been devoided for so, so long. “I found missing person Oikawa Tooru. He hasn’t eaten or drank anything in four days.”
His hand trembles against Oikawa’s scalp, carding his fingers through his crusted, greasy as he gives the dispatcher directions to the practice gym. When the call is over, he presses one gentle kiss to the top of Oikawa’s head.
“I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m so, so sorry,” Iwaizumi says.
His energy is too depleted for him to respond, his throat too scratchy and dry, so he opts to do the only thing he can do: burying his head deeper into Iwaizumi’s chest and letting Hajime hold him as though he’ll never let go.
Oikawa doesn’t want him to let go.
#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#haikyuu#hq#iwaoi#iwaoi fic#oikawa x iwaizumi#oikawa tōru#tooru oikawa#oikawa tooru#iwaizumi hajime#angst with a happy ending#angst#one shot#iwaizumi x oikawa
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He Comes To Your Rescue
Toru Oikawa X Fem!Reader, Hajime Iwaizumi X Fem!Reader Kotarou Bokuto X Fem!Reader
Summary: You get caught up in something and he defends you
Part 2 - Atsumu Miya, Osamu Miya, Suna Rintaro, Kei Tsukishima
Part 3 - Kuroo Tetsurou, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Tendo Satori
Part 4 - Yuji Terushima, Kiyoomi Sakusa
Part 5 - Kageyama
Toru Oikawa
👑 When you started hanging out with the boys more often, most of the fans were kind enough, they all knew that they weren’t dating Oikawa.
👑 Oikawa was the one to announce that he was dating you, all it took was one post and everyone knew by the next day.
👑 Like I said most of the fans were happy for you both but there were a few who refused to believe that you were both together, people that claimed you were with him because of his money (unfortunately athletes don’t actually get paid that much but okay) or for the status.
👑 Though these opinions hadn’t been much more than social media comments you had always been waiting to meet someone with more confidence than common sense.
You smiled as someone tapped you on the shoulder, you looked over your shoulder and your smile widened as you looked at Iwaizumi “I’m glad you found the stadium okay.” You smiled as he took a seat next to you, his arm stretching over the seat behind you as he ruffled your hair slightly. “Do you know how long it took me to do my hair today? Why would you do that?” You tried to fix the damage he had done.
“Don’t worry you look fine, it’s not like shittykawa is even going to notice.” He shrugged.
“Are you trying to make me feel better?” You asked.
“He’s glanced up at the 3 times and he’s still not realized me.” Iwa shrugged.
“See she claims to be dating Oikawa but she’s letting this guy wrap his arm around her.” You both looked over at the girl who pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of you both.
“I’m going to post this.” She informed you as she showed you the picture.
“Please do, I look really good from that angle.” You smiled “don’t you think?”
“Yeah sure.” Iwa rolled his eyes with a smirk, his eyes on something on the court.
“Are you done here?” You asked as you waited for them to leave.
“Are you serious!?” She asked.
“Surely you’re not going to watch the game from there.” You frowned, you could see Iwa was about 5 minutes away from telling them to get lost himself but before anything else could happen, you heard him:
“Little cutie! You didn’t tell me that there was a special guest.” Oikawa appeared next to you.
“Well you were the one that said you missed him.” You shrugged “Iwa said that he was looking to go on holiday so here we are.”
“I love you.” He cheered as he pressed a kiss to your lips before turning his attention to Iwa both of the hugging as you glanced over to see the girls were gone. “Fans of yours?” He asked in reference to the girls that were in the place that you were looking.
“Fans of yours.” You corrected him “thought I was cheating with Iwa.”
“Still as annoying as it was in school.” Iwa cut in.
“Come you’ve got to get back down there and make this match worth the watch.” You ordered, he leaned down to kiss you one more time snapping a picture on your phone.
“Post that for me.” He winked kissing you one more time before jogging off out of the range of Iwa’s hit.
Hajime Iwaizume
💪 You didn’t often go to meet Iwa at work, he worked at a gym full of men most of the time and he was rather protective.
💪 This time however he had forgotten his lunch and as much as he hated asking he needed you to drop it off, seeing the way that his day was lined up, he wasn’t going to have time to go out and grab something else.
💪 When you got there the woman at the front desk smiled as she recognised you. “He told me he was waiting for you, I’ll call him down.” she called for Iwa and then gestured for you to go take a seat while you waited for him.
💪 The people behind you must have been listening in because before long they were standing over you.
“Can I help you?” You asked as you looked up at them.
“Do you even go to the gym?” One of the girls asked and you looked at them and frowned.
“Umm…-”
“You don’t look like you go to the gym.” The other cut you off.
“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked.
“Well how did you get a session with Iwaizumi, we’ve been trying for months.” The first girl complained, they both looked you up and down before one of them laughed.
“Are you planning to bribe him?” She smirked and you frowned before your hands tightened around his lunch sensing that they were up to something, you could see her hand lifting but before anything could happen the man of the hour called out to you.
“Thanks for bringing this for me sweetheart.” You looked at him and smiled, standing to walk over and meet him halfway, hoping to get away from the girls in front of him but they had other plans, one of them stepping forward and knocking you off balance, you fell forward doing your best to make sure that Iwa’s lunch stayed in tacked. Iwa rushed over to you, taking the lunch from you and putting it to the side.
“Oh my god are you okay?” One of the girls stepped forward.
“Leave.” Iwa ordered as he pulled you up to sit.
“What?” She asked.
“You and your friend leave, find another gym to use.” He ordered before turning his attention to you, tipping your head up to see if there was any damage to you.
“Is your lunch okay?” You asked as he sat you back on the bench and started cleaning a small cut on your cheek.
“I don’t care about the lunch, I care about you, did you know those girls?” He asked.
“No, they said that they’ve been trying to get a session with you for months and they were angry because they thought that you were doing a session with me.” You shrugged.
“Mmm.” He hummed. “All fixed up.” He pressed a bandaid to your face before kissing where the small cut was.
“Thank you.” You smiled.
“No problem, my love.” He said as you both stood up as you attempted to step around him he wrapped an arm around you “I’ll make up for this when I get him later.”
Kotaro Bokuto
🦉 Bo had been training hard for this match for months and the least you could do was go and support him, the stadiums were loud and crowded so you didn’t often find yourself there.
🦉 When you told Bo that you were going to be there, he was over the moon, he would not stop talking about it and even asked you to wear his shirt from last season so that he would be able to see you in the crowd.
🦉 To his credit he did see you as soon as you sat down, he waved at you before blowing you a kiss, you waved back pretending to catch the kiss and put it to your cheek.
🦉 That was where the problems came, it caught the attention of a group of girls who were clearly fans of Bo or the Jackals in general because they were standing in front of you within seconds.
“Where’d you get that top?” One of them asked, you glanced at them for a second before answering.
“From my boyfriend.” You answered as you tried to look around them to see the court, when you did, you actually couldn’t see him anymore and frowned, your attention drawn back to them when one of them nudged you in the shoulder.
“We ask you a question.” The first one glared at you folding her arms across her chest.
“Sorry, what did you ask?” You asked through gritted teeth as you tried not to start a fight at the match the Bo had been working so hard for.
“Do you know that’s fake?” She asked. “There’s no way that your boyfriend could have gotten the real shirt from that season.”
“What makes you say that?” You asked, leaning back in your chair.
“They didn’t sell any merch for that season, there’s nothing that looks like that made officially for fans.” You honestly thought that you had left this behind when you left school, you had been dating Bo for a long time and it’s not like you kept it a secret, he had trouble keeping his camera off of you, you were all over his social media.
“Babe!” You heard him yell before he came bouncing into your view with his phone “it’s time for my pre-game picture.”
“Don’t you usually take that with your team?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah but you're here today, I wanna take it with you.” He smiled as he sat in the chair next to you pulling you against him “smile baby owl.” You smiled at the camera and he snapped the picture standing up to cage you into the chair that you were sitting on.
“What are you doing?” You asked for a small smile on your face.
“I’m just making sure you're okay.” He answered.
“I’m fine I’m just trying not to start a fight before your match, I want to see you win.” You smiled bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek. “So get back down there so you can win.”
“Alright babe.” He pressed a kiss to your lips “make sure that you cheer for me when I win.”
“Make sure you win.” You winked before pressing another quick kiss to his lips before he ran off, the girls that were there weren’t anymore in fact when you saw them a couple of rows over it seemed like they could even keep eye contact with you.
Request Here
#haikyuu#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu x reader#toru oikawa#toru oikawa imagine#toru oikawa oneshot#hajime iwaizumi#hajime iwaizumi imagine#hajime iwaizumi oneshot#kotaro bokuto#kotaro bokuto imagine#kotaro bokuto oneshot#imagine#oneshot#one shot#reader insert#x reader#female reader
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— STEPPING BACK WHEN THEY LEAN OVER TO KISS YOU haikyuu
ft. tetsuro kuroo, toru oikawa, yu nishinoya, hajime iwaizumi
cw. teasing, pda.
a/n. hiiii, this is my first haikyuu one shot in there welp. i hope you enjoy it
— TETSURO KUROO
tetsuro is used to kiss you every time before a match. he says that it brings him some luck. in a few minutes, he was gonna have a match against karasuno and he was talking with you while admiring your attractive features. “kuroo, get your ass there, we’re gonna start getting ready” kenma called for your boyfriend which makes his attention switch up from you to his team. “hold up” the black haired replies to his friend, who was getting impatient.
“gotta go angel, wish me good luck” he says as he steps closer to you. “good luck tetsu” you say with a smile. he leans over to kiss you, but before he could even reach your lips, you step back. it makes him kiss the air and when he realizes he wasn’t kissing you. you could hear some laughs coming from his teammates which makes you chuckle in amusement. “oh yeah? you wanna play this game? we’ll see who’ll be laughing tomorrow after being unable to walk” the black haired grumbles.
he grabs your face to pull it closer to yours as he coldly says “don’t play these games with me” making you smile innocently. he stares into your innocent stare for a long second when he finally decides to press his lips against yours. “if i lose this match, i’ll blame it on you for not giving me a proper good luck kiss” he says as he joins his team. you chuckle and as the match announces its start, you yell “TETSURO” which makes him lose his attention to his game to look at you. “i love you, good luck” you say innocently as he misses his ball.
— TORU OIKAWA
everyday, you bring a homemade snack for your boyfriend toru and he loves them. you always give them to him at lunch, when you eat with him and iwaizumi. but today, iwaizumi was sick, therefore, he was absent. so it was just the two of you. “awe, it’s pretty lame without iwa” you complained sighing. “oh so you’re saying i’m boring?” your boyfriend asks offended leaning closer to your face.
“maybe” you reply in a teasing tone as you grimace. he pouts staring into your eyes upset as you chuckle. he switches up his attention from your eyes to your lips. he leans closer closing his eyes about to kiss you, but before he could even do it, you move back which makes him fall on. his face meets your thighs from the big distance you kept between your face’s. his eyes widen when his eyes meet your pants’ zip which makes his face turn red. “hey what was that?” he asks backing off looking flustered.
“nothing” you reply innocently. he pushes you over on the ground holding your wrist pinning them beside your head. “don’t reject my kisses” he says biting his inner cheek. “sorry” you say as he leans closer to kiss you. without hesitation, you kiss him back which makes him smile into the kiss.
— YU NISHINOYA
yu is shorter than you, so it’s pretty hard for him to reach you while trying to kiss you, therefore, he puts a lot of love and affection in his kisses, as well of some effort. at the moment, he had to leave you behind since daichi and suga had forced him to get into studying for his next exam. getting spammed with messages of the both of them for why he was late, he sighs and says “sorry (y/n). i got to go”
“oh, then bye noya!” you say with a smile hiding how sad you were at the idea of him leaving. you both get up as he gets on his tippie toes to be able to kiss, but you step back. he ends up falling on you from losing control of his balance. “ow! what was that for?!?” your boyfriend whines out. “my way to show you how upset i am at you leaving” you say pouting.
he sighs and gets back up. you look down at him upset when he pulls you towards himself by grabbing your collar. he presses his lips on yours for a long 2 minutes before saying “you know i don’t wanna leave you behind. if you want, you can join our studying” then he smiles. you stay quiet unsure if you should accept his offer or not, but you end up saying yes as you smile.
— HAJIME IWAIZUMI
hajime and you are at the very moment watching a movie together at your house, in the living room, cuddling on the couch. he has his arms wrapped around you as you had your head laid back against his chest. his warm hugs were able to comfort you during the sad parts of the movie and to support you when you felt lonely watching some romantic parts.
the movie finally ended when iwa leans over your face to kiss you, but you back off his arms to lean over on the table having as goal to grab the tv remote. this makes your boyfriend’s eyes widen as he says “hey, what are you doing?” as he looks at you leaning back with the remote on your hand. “turning off the tv” you said as you press the on and off button.
he sighs then grabs your face to press his lips against yours. “i thought you were running away from my kiss” he mumbles against your lips while slightly moving away to be able to talk. you smile amused as he presses his on yours again.
#haikyuu#kiss#stepping back#rejecting kiss#stepping back from kiss#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu one shot#one shot#scnearios#tetsuro kuroo#toru oikawa#yu nishinoya#hajime iwaizumi#gn reader#tetsuro kuroo x you#tetsuro kuroo x reader#tetsuro kuroo x yn#kuroo x reader#kuroo x you#kuroo x y/n#oikawa#oikawa x y/n#oikawa x you#oikawa x reader#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi x y/n#iwaizumi x reader#nishinoya x y/n#nishinoya fluff#karasuno
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AtuOi beef @ the all-star game and Atsumu trying to turn everyone against Oikawa immediately has so much comedic potential.
He tries to get Hinata to break his friendship with Oikawa. It's just like:
Atsumu: It is shameful you are friends with someone who hurt your boyfriend/best friend so much in middle school
Hinata: Tobio is okay with it–
Atsumu: SHAMEFUL I SAY!
He tells Iwaizumi he can do better than Oikawa (and nearly gets punched in the face).
He organises bitching sessions with Kageyama (it's very one-sided. Kageyama is texting Hinata or watching volleyball videos the whole time. Atsumu is FURIOUS they aren't bonding over their shared hatred of Oikawa.)
Atsumu: And the way he thinks he is so much better than everyone else? Imagine being so obnoxious, I could never –
Kageyama: *doesn't hear a word* *is literally making bets with Hinata on FaceTime*
Atsumu: You are dead to me.
So he tries his luck with Ushijima instead but that turns out even worse.
Ushijima: Oh, Oikawa? He is an excellent setter, he brings out the best in every team. If he'd gone to my school–
Atsumu: OH MY GOD!!!
Sakusa has locked him out of the room after the first night and refuses to entertain him.
Atsumu: Don't you just hate it when he calls you Kiyo-chan? Omi-Omi is so much cuter. He will never understand you like I do.
Sakusa: It's 3:16 in the morning
Atsumu: ily
Sakusa: die
Osamu blocked his number. Suna simply starts recording his anti-Oikawa rants and Atsumu is 77% sure at least one of them is up on the internet. Bokuto is a lost cause because he met Oikawa once and is already a fan. Hoshiumi would be a perfect candidate but he has his own Jackals/Adlers beef with Atsumu to fulfill and just starts growling whenever they cross paths.
Aran hears him out once and wants to fake his death within 15 minutes.
Yaku hates Oikawa but he hates Atsumu too. Inunaki is a sadist and enjoys Atsumu's suffering.
Atsumu is miserable. Oikawa is winning for now.
(Feel free to add more.)
#atsumu is such a funny character when he's losing at something#i have so many thoughts about this new one shot and all the character dynamic#this is even better than the chaos of jnt#miya atsumu#oikawa tooru#hinata shouyou#kageyama tobio#iwaizumi hajime#ushijima wakatoshi#sakusa kiyoomi#miya osamu#suna rintarou#bokuto koutarou#hoshiumi kourai#ojiro aran#yaku morisuke#inunaki shion#atsuoi#kagehina#iwaoi#sakuatsu#haikyuu!!#hq#sim talks hq
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boyfriend!iwaizumi headcannons
what's it? fluff
sugar level? 0.7k
allergen warning/s? n/a
regulars? @hanayanetwork
♧ is such a great kisser. puts passion into every kiss. it gets his partner weak in the knees, their head spinning, and heart pounding until the only thing that overwhelms their senses is iwaizumi hajime.
♧ actually really shy and gets flustered easily, it's adorable, really. the first time his partner kissed him on the cheek, he couldn't help the lovesick gaze he gave them and how the intense blush pigmented his cheeks.
♧ lowkey a the biggest cuddlebug. he'd die if anyone found out, but every time he ends up snuggled in his partner's arms, or his partner is snuggled in his, he completely melts. no thoughts, just ♡ them ♡.
♧ so enamored and in love with his partner that during the first few months they were together, poor boy couldn't even maintain eye contact with them without blushing and looking away.
♧ always loads up the groceries into the trunk of his and his partner's car both because he's a gentleman and because he wants to show off his strength. that last part is a little obvious though because no one's arm flexes like that when loading groceries but really, who actually minds the view?
♧ really good at unintentionally flustering people. why are they blushing? he just tucked a strand of hair behind their ear since it was getting in their face as they wrote down ideas for their project in their social studies class. why are there butterflies in their tummy? he just offered to carry the diorama for them since it looks heavy, plus they were partners in the project so it was only fair, right?
♧ has tried to write his partner a love letter once because "it's just writing, how hard can it be?" but a few minutes and ten pieces of crumpled up pink lavender-scented paper later, he's so close to throwing his bullpen across the room because he can't properly articulate all the feelings he has for you because it's too strong. he's so pissed off that even oikawa, who admittedly has to stifle his laughter at the sight, knew iwa was too annoyed to be messed with.
♧ when walking with his partner, he would always make sure that they're standing on the side of the sidewalk furthest from the road.
♧ *breathes in* "wear whatever you want, i can fight" bf!! "wear whatever you want, i can fight" bf!! "wear whatever you want, i can fight" bf!!
♧ you see, in that manga and in the anime, he doesn't smile much, yes? he smirks a lot, but he doesn't smile. however, when he's with his partner, he can't really remember how to not smile. he's just so in love and enamored and he can't help the way the corners of his mouth tug upwards.
♧ master of healthy relationships. he will not stand for red flags -- either change it (strictly for red flags in a partner! he's not going to make his partner change their whole personality/style to match his type) or leave him, easy.
♧ he's so used to thinking with his head whenever he has a problem and not feeling with his heart so that was something him and his partner argued about early in the relationship. sometimes they ranted to him and wanted him to comfort them, only for him to bombard them with solutions they did not want to think about yet. now he's thought of a system where when either of them talks about a problem they're having, they can tell the other person comfort or solution.
♧ that being said, iwaizumi prefers partners who can help him bring himself out of sometimes-unfeeling-shell. someone who's not going to make fun of him for feeling emotions or for being confused by emotions that may be simple to understand for other people. he's not used to it, but he wants to better himself in every way. that every way includes this.
♧ grumbles a lot if his partner takes a lot of photos of them. he just wants to live in the moment, that's his preference, but then again, he can understand his partner's perspective of preserving important memories.
♧ he's very understanding and good at communicating with his partner. he is aware that it is very important in a relationship and never fails to integrate it into the way he talks and interacts with his partner.
+ bonus for my filo readers
♧ hinaharanahan ka!! desente naman boses niya, pero di ganon ka ganda, masyadong malalim ganon, and di malawak yung range but still!! hinaharana ka D: -> me crying kasi wala akong iwa.
[translation: sings to you!! his voice is decent, but not that good, it's a bit too deep, and doesn't have range but still!! he sings to you D: -> me crying because i don't have an iwa]
i get: reblog
you get: a bokuto water bottle
do we have a deal?
#order of the day!#order up for iwaizumi!#one kona coffee mochi#with a side of coconut italian ice#iwaizumi#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi fluff#iwaizumi one shot#iwaizumi hajime#waizumi hajime x reader#iwaizumi hajime x you#iwaizumi hajime fluff#iwaizumi hajime one shot#hajime iwaizumi#hajime iwaizumi x reader#hajime iwaizumi x you#hajime iwaizumi fluff#hajime iwaizumi one shot#tahonet#hanayanetwork#tokyometronetwork
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GUITARIST !
summary: when reader’s band plays an important concert, oikawa tells his girlfriend that there’s no chance he could get back to japan, but the truth is that there’s no thing that could stop tooru from being with his significant other in the day as important as her concert.
notes: oikawa tooru x guitarist!reader, fem!reader, long distance established relationship, also oikawa being a shitty boyfriend. good friend!iwaizumi. mentions of drinking, swear words, frustrated hajime. not proofread kinda angsty also, hurt/comfort
you’ve known that for oikawa, his career would be always on the first place, his significant other following right after. and saying that you were completely fine with the situation would be… a small exaggeration. you couldn’t argue with that, you never could, so you pretended like being paid less attention to that practices wasn’t such a big deal everyone was telling you. but a part of you were incredibly hurt when your boyfriend of five years told you it was impossible to bail a few practices to be there at your concert in tokyo.
your small band was supposed to be a support, and a starter for a bigger one from the united kingdom. organizing the whole thing was way more of a challenge than you anticipated, since you were some sort of leader you had to do it on your own. contacting the other band, which wasn't the hardest part as you already knew the members, then the organizators, the management, the place where the event was supposed to happen at. if it wasn’t for iwaizumi who kept you on track with people you already called to, you wouldn’t be sane.
and because you’ve been working under heavy pressure, you got distant from your boyfriend, not answering his calls nor texts, replying with short sentences, but you were too busy to catch a breath or eat a proper meal instead of an instant ramen during breaks at studio. and well, oikawa got worried when the only source of information was hajime, not you.
one evening, when your bandmates and friends decided on taking a break and going out to celebrate such a big success of your work, you drank a little too much, that’s what hajime told you the following day. he drove you to his place, when your legs got too wobbly to function due to how much alcohol you pour in your mouth. he would sit you on the couch in his living room, and as if it was for the soft fabric of the furniture, you burst out crying.
“i hate it.” you let out quietly, your face hidden in the crock of iwaizumi’s neck. “i know he’s- he’s happy there, but i want him back. can’t he be a volleyball player here? like everyone else?” your sobs made your friend’s heart tear into pieces, his hand caressing your back gently to calm you. “throughout the entire three years he’s been there i’ve seen him twice, twice, haji. i miss him being here, he missed almost everything! my graduation, the party when i got accepted to the university of my dreams, his nephew’s first important game. and he won’t be able to see me on that stupid stadium.”
when oikawa left to argentina, you’ve already been in a long distance relationship, but because of you. you were granted an exchange to one of the best high schools with music programme in the uk. you couldn’t deny an offer like that, but it made you bit goodbyes with tooru almost a year earlier than you expected. since then, you saw him twice, one on your twenty birthday, and the second time on christmas next year.
it was exhausting. and when he told you, he wouldn’t make it to your show, you felt ruined. it was the only thing you’d pray for — for him to see you on a stage, opening a concert so important for you, your friends and bandmates. you never told him how you felt, never brought the topic again yourself, like your band never existed. it seemed too painful to speak about it out loud.
iwaizumi didn’t even bother trying to explain his other best friend. there were no words that could do such a thing. even though oikawa tooru has been his friend for longer, you were the one on the verge of breaking down whenever his topic was brought up, and hajime had to have a one on one with his friend.
so when you finally passed out from exhaustion and probably dehydration since you shredded so many tears that you could’ve filled up at least three huge bathtubs, the man covered up with a blanket and called oikawa, who already bombarded your phone with his calls.
“you’re so dead shittykawa.” he began, almost being interrupted by a confused what? coming from the other side of the phone. “i have your girlfriend sleeping on my sofa after a half an hour of crying, because her boyfriend seems like he doesn’t care about anything but his sport career, when for example hinata or ushiwaka are in japan every two or three months.
yet your girlfriend still thinks it’s okay to be treated like that, saying that’s what she signed up for five years ago. no, don’t even start on her becoming distant. she works her ass off trying to make you feel proud even though you won’t even see her perform in real life, you won’t be a part of her fucking dream just because volleyball is more important than your own fucking girlfriend.” he was furious, spitting out words, he would probably regret if he didn’t see how much in pain his best friend was.
“she doesn’t talk to me, iwa. what am i supposed to do? she doesn’t even answer my calls or texts. i wish i was there with you all, but volleyball is equally important to me, you know it. don’t make me the bad one.” oikawa sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.
“i know your career is significant, and i’m happy you’re chasing your dreams or some shit, but i’ve had enough of seeing your girlfriend, who you says you love endlessly, cry her tears out because you can’t get a few more days off and fly here. i don’t care what you’re gonna do, but i want to see you in two weeks at the airport or, you believe me, i’ll be the one who’s gonna convince y/n to dump your ass and find somebody who won’t neglect her.”
“hajime, i already have the tickets.” oikawa sighed, revealing the surprise for you. “i wanted to surprise her, i know i’ve been a shitty boyfriend and i wanted to see her, see all of you.”
“i don’t regret anything i said.” iwaizumi confessed, getting back inside. “if you let her down like that again, i’ll be the first one to suggest the idea of breaking up with you.” he claimed, and before tooru could add anything, he just hung up, taking a seat next to you.
the next two weeks were the most stressful ones for you, throughout your entire musician career. you, semi, konoha and hanako, a friend of yours, had barely left the studio you were rehearsing in. matsun and makki, your roommates, got even more worried when you became lifeless like a ghost.
at the final rehearsal before the show started, you weren’t even paying attention to the people that stand next to the stage, excitement took over you (especially when you finally slept enough hours and ate a proper meal), but then you caught eye contact with someone, and you felt like you were hallucinating. you immediately jumped off the stage, running towards the boy who just stood there smiling at you with the smile that never failed to make your knees weak.
“you’re here.” you spoke out, not believing your eyes. “you came.” you added softly. and then you took a swung at him, punching him in the chest, making your boyfriend grimace in pain, while the rest of your band laughed. “don’t think i forgave you for coming here once a year and a half. but i’m happy you’re here.”
when the show started your eyes were fixated on your boyfriend who stood at the front with all of your friends, matsun, makki, and iwaizumi, vibing and swinging their bodies to the tunes of your songs. oikawa locked eyes with you, grinning as wide as he could, thanking god he could see you there, on such a big stage in a place like this.
first person you saw after getting to the backstage was your boyfriend with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and a smile plastered on his lips. “you were amazing, with every second i’ve felt more and more enchanted. god, i love you so much.”
you pulled him into a kiss by the cotton of his collar, the first one you had since last year. you almost forgot how his touch worked on you. “i love you. i love you so much.” you mumbled into his lips before pulling away. “please, don’t leave me for so long anymore.”
“i won’t, baby. i can guarantee you that.”
#Spotify#haikyuu#hq oikawa#oikawa x reader#iwaizumi x reader#oikawa tooru#oikawa toru x you#oikawa toru x reader#hq oikawa toru#hq x reader#oikawa fic#haikyuu!!#oikawa one shot#oikawa imagine#haikyuu fic#haikyuu x imagines#haikyuu x female reader#haikyuu x you#oikaw tooru x female reader#oikawa fluff#iwaizumi hajime x reader#oikawa angst#oikawa scenarios
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I’m kinda in a writing rut so if yall wanna request fics in the ol’ ask box it’d be soooo appreciated
#I’m currently working on two fics but cannot get words out for either of them#need a one shot to get me outta the rut#so id love some requests#iwaoi#doctor who#tenrose#iwaizumi hajime#oikawa toru#tenth doctor#rose tyler#fanfic#writing requests#marmar writing#marmar posting
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Forever and again
It is when he thinks about it most that he least understands how the universe has allowed him to have Iwaizumi. They have always been together, his mother fondly keeps a photograph of Oikawa at six months old and Iwaizumi at seven, both sleeping soundly next to each other, their chubby little hands clasping. In all his memories there is Hajime, there is his laugh, his frown, his sleeping face, his dimples, his dull green eyes, his quiet voice, his sincere words. There is also what Oikawa has learned to relate with Iwa-chan, there is his childhood passion for insects, there is his hunting net, his jars to catch and then release because everyone has a place to be, there are his favourite sneakers, there are his Godzilla band-aids, there is the warmth of the summer sun, the sweetness of freshly cut watermelon, the tree house in the Iwaizumi's mountain residence, the apple scent of his shampoo.
There are many, thousands, millions more things. Some of them have remained, like the old hunting net, and some have changed, like the shape of his back.
Tooru remembers how thin it was under his patterned shirts, even though Iwaizumi was a little taller than him, and how comfortable it was when Iwa-chan carried him on when he sprained his ankle or scraped his knees or suffered one of his allergic reactions on his way home from his adventures on the hill. Hajime's back has always been safety and security, confidence and firmness, and over time it has become broader and more muscular, but without losing a drop of the essence that Tooru has grown up with.
And he likes it, he likes it so much. That's why he enjoys it when Iwaizumi takes his hand (as he's doing now) and laces his fingers between his naturally as if they were made for it, and then tugs his arm lovingly and leads the way. He enjoys it because he sees Hajime's back again, runs his form that he has well memorised in his mind and fingers under his black cotton shirt, sees the kanjis of the Aoba Johsai banner printed in black ink along the back of his neck, his cropped hair, the back ball of the industrial piercing through the cartilage of his ear.
Walking behind Hajime is not shameful, it is comforting and warm. Oikawa feels protected and loved, and his heart melts inside him when he thinks of every moment that Iwaizumi has shown him with actions —because that's what he is, a man of action rather than words— how much he loves him. Whether it's kissing him tenderly, combing his bangs, leaving milk bread and dorayakis on the kitchen counter, buying him that ridiculous strawberry-shaped bowl he once distractedly mentioned he liked, leaving notes for him around the flat ("don't forget breakfast, Shittykawa", "you're so beautiful, u know that?”, "don't forget you have an appointment to change your glasses prescription and we’ve dinner with our parents this monday", "I'm going to kick your fucking ass if you ever leave wet towels lying on the damn sofa again", "I love you so much", “don't let Makki dye his hair in our bathroom again”), photographing every article of clothing and shoe he stopped to look at every time they went shopping (believing Tooru didn't notice), covering the pointy end of any table with his hand when Oikawa bent down to pick up whatever he had dropped to prevent him from bumping it, always making sure he felt good when he showed the slightest grimace of discomfort, always seeking his opinion on any subject, always listening to even the most absurd complaints and ramblings.
Iwaizumi loves him so much and Oikawa loves Iwaizumi so much. He has loved him in every state of love, he has loved him as a friend, as family, as a partner, as a neighbour, as a boyfriend and he will also love him as a husband. Tooru loves him so much that it is overflowing, overwhelming, a tsunami of intensity that sweeps everything inside him until his heart aches and his eyes water.
He loves him so much he wants to cry.
In fact, he's going to cry.
Right now.
"Hajime" he murmurs giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His low, faint voice immediately alarming Iwaizumi who peeks his face over his shoulder, his thick eyebrows furrowing in concern, but Oikawa barely gives him time to open his mouth when he pulls his arm towards him and there, in the middle of the mall's subway parking garage, he wraps his arms around his neck, sinking his face into them.
The tension in Iwaizumi’s body is brief, Oikawa soon hears his snort and immediately feels an arm around his waist squeezing him against his body, and a large, warm hand stroking his back up and down, with the experience of someone who has been in his life since his first breath.
Tooru is where he wants to be and should be. Where his happiness is constant and his sadness subsides more easily, where anxiety is treated with gentleness and negative thoughts vanish with sincere words. Where love is pure and clean, where arguments last no more than three days (because despite being stubborn and wanting to be right, they both hate the emptiness left in bed when they are upset), where winter mornings are less torturous because there is a warm body by their side, where the summer sun is warmer than ever, where flowers in spring are more vivid, where hot chocolate in autumn tastes sweeter.
"Are you okay?" Iwaizumi asks softly, his warm lips caressing the skin of his cheek. "Don't tell me you're crying again because you love me too much."
Oikawa laughs, somewhat wetly and teasingly. This is also how it feels to love someone well and to have that someone not only know you so well but to feel so comfortable and confident that you bare yourself body and soul.
"No, I was thinking about the poor driver who parked his car next to Iwa-chan's."
"Oi, that time I broke the rearview mirror because the other driver parked like shit" He gently pinches his side, pulling an exaggerated yelp out of him.
"Mean, Iwa-chan" Oikawa whines with a pout, lifting his head and tilting it to the side when he finally meets Iwaizumi's eyes, which look at him with a love cultivated since decades as he wipes away a tear rolling lonely down his cheek with his thumb.
"Mean, Iwa-chan" he teases, sharpening his voice before laughing when Oikawa bites his cheek.
There's a press at his waist, a second-hand descending down his lower back.
"If we don't hurry, you'll go back to running out of that sweet milkshake bomb you pretend to like" He says, though he doesn't make the slightest move to break away, brushing his bangs away from Tooru's eyes.
"Show some respect for the cinnamon roll Frappuccino, Hajime" Croons as he sketches an amused curve to his lips "It's not my fault you have nefarious taste buds and are incapable of appreciating sweet."
"That's because I'm only loyal to one kind of sweet, Tooru" He replies, two shades lower and huskier, his eyes fixed on his before deliberately lowering them to Oikawa's pink lips.
Tooru's cheeks and ears redden, but he widens his smile, his hand fondly stroking the hair at the nape of Hajime's neck.
"Really, Iwa-chan? I wonder what kind of sweet you're so faithful to is."
"Mmh... He has cinnamon-coloured hair, honey-coloured eyes and a cherry-red nose" He replies and Oikawa blinks, really caught off guard, before laughing, his happy laughter echoing in the parking lot, his eyes narrowed into half-moons at his boyfriend's affectionate smile.
"I don't have a red nose!" he complains between belly laugh.
"Oh, it gets so red when you cry, my baby boy" Hajime teases, starting to spread kisses all over his face, all over his forehead, red nose, cheeks, eyelids, chin and finally his lips.
Oikawa smiles against Hajime’s mouth, cradling his face, his thumbs on either side of his strong jaw as he kisses him back, melting into those strong arms where he has grown and lived.
The place where Tooru is and will be, forever and again.
...
u can find this and other fics on my ao3 🌻
#iwaoi#haikyuu!!#oikawa tooru#iwaizumi hajime#oikawa x iwaizumi#haikyuu#hajime iwaizumi#bl boys#hq fluff#iwaizumi fluff#oikawa fluff#they are so in love#iwa has a tattoo#oikawa thinks about love#one shot#ao3 fanfic#soft and fluffy#childhood friends#established iwaoi#oikawa loves iwaizumi#so so so so so much#oikawa tōru
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IWAOI NATION !!!
let me share with you my iwaoi fic:
haikyuu!! pre-skip.
valentine's day & white day.
idiots in love.
romantic fluff.
one shot.
you can read it here. enjoy <3
#iwaoi#haikyuu#oikawa tōru#iwaizumi hajime#oikawa tōru x iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi hajime x oikawa tooru#love#fic#ao3#one shot#idiots in love#feelings#angst with feelings#haikyuu fanfiction
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