“God, I fucking hate ties! …Tooru?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you. You’re so nervous, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. ‘Course I am. You’re forcing me to dance.”
“Aww Hajime, but we practiced! And you’re a great dancer. There you go. Tie all done.”
“Thanks. …hey, are you crying?”
“It’s – I’m – s-sorry, Hajime.”
“What’s wrong? If you’re scared, then we can – ”
“No. God, I just – this is prom. This is our first dance together. Everyone will know, after tonight, that we’re – ”
“That you look like an angel but kiss like the fucking devil?”
“…that was so sweet and sappy, Hajime. But yeah. You’re really gonna kiss me in front of everyone?”
“You said it, didn’t you Tooru? It’s our prom. If I don’t show everyone that you’re mine tonight, then when am I gonna do it?”
“…how – how are you so – God, do you even know how much I lo-”
“Let’s go, okay? I promise I’ll dance with you all night. And yeah, I know. I do, too.”

“You could have found someone less difficult,” Tooru says into the silence of their new bedroom. The walls still smell like paint, and Hajime’s fingers are rough from carrying furniture inside and making this place a home.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, soft, because Tooru’s voice only shivers like a scared animal in a storm when he’s falling into the abyss of his own mind.

“A girl.” Tooru turns, buries his face into Hajime’s shoulder. “Anyone would have been less complicated. Another guy, not so fucked up, not breaking down like – “

Hajime kisses him. Their lips melt for long seconds, and maybe Tooru sobs, quiet and overwhelmed, when Hajime’s mouth lingers on his forehead in faithful reverence.

“Loving you,” Hajime says, “isn’t hard. It’s easy as breathing. I don’t know how I do it. It’s just always there.” He lets Tooru curl his arms around his neck and listens to the melody of his tears.

“As long as I breathe, you’ll never be alone.”

“Kill prince Tooru. I don’t care how. Slit his throat, poison him. But don’t leave traces. You get the other half after you succeed.”

A pouch was slid over the table, the hand pushing it scarred and fat. A few gold coins spilled out of it, pouring over the tabletop. The assassin gently pushed all of the money back inside and stood. “He will be dead by morning.”

The hours until night went by swiftly. The assassin had been watching the palace closely, and as the last night inside the prince’s chambers died down, they moved to action. There had been rumours about guards patrolling around the castle – strangely, the assassin couldn’t find any, no matter how hard their eyes searched. Their senses were alert, burning, red with fire to kill. The trees before the prince’s chambers made it easy to swing over to the windowsill, and a sharp knife helped to open the lock. It was a wonder the prince was still alive.

They slipped inside, feet soundless on the soft carpet. The prince was sleeping unguarded, curled underneath soft blankets, his face innocent. He could barely be a man yet. The assassin didn’t hesitate. Their dagger glinted, and –

“You wouldn’t be the first to try that. Good evening, murderer.”

The pain came after the blood. A man had appeared besides the assassin, clothed in black and smiling softly. But his eyes gleamed raw and wild as the night’s sky, and his sword was quick. The dagger fell, and so did the young assassin’s hand. A horrifying scream rose in their throat, eyes widening, because what monster would be able to approach them unnoticed, who could be so powerful –

“Do you know why there are no guards, hm? There’s no need for them. If someone sends you here, they want you dead. It always works.”

A hand clasped over their mouth and made them choke on their own scream. The blood drowned in the carpet, droplets glistening red and soft in the moonlight. “Be quiet, you will wake him,” the gentle voice told them. The terrifying man had a hand over their jaw, crushing, and oh he’d kill them now –

“Mhm… Hajime?” A sleepy voice came from the bed, and the monster holding the assassin stilled. “Yes, my prince?”

“Another one?” – “I’m afraid so. I will take them out of the way.”
The assassin could see the prince blink drowsily, warm brown eyes blinking before something hard and cold flashed through them. “Go ahead. I don’t want to disturbed any further.”

And the monster, the man who had risen like a shadow besides the young assassin, smiled. “Of course, Tooru. I will get rid of any dirt that bothers you.”

“I can’t sleep.” – “Me neither. Wait, I have something.” Tooru reaches underneath their bed, pulling out a flat black cardboard box. Hajime shuffles closer and hugs him from behind, glancing over his shoulder as Tooru opens the lid. And within moments, a story of paper and ink unfolds before them. This is how they met.

“You kept all our post-its?”
“Yeah. Everything we ever wrote. Look, here’s – “

“H-a-j-i-m-e.” The first time Tooru wrote his name. The paper they used is mostly blank, back when they were in elementary school, no lines for long words yet.

Then, a bit later, pink pages out of Tooru’s old favourite notepad.
“Which girl do you think is the cutest?” Hajime’s handwriting was terrible back then, god.
“None. They’re all mean.”
“I told them to stop pulling your hair. I can tell them again.”
“Thank you, Haji.”
“No problem. You’re my best friend.”

The next batch of notes is younger, scrawled over pages from college blocks. Middle school, high school, tons of notes and stories and oh, they were so young.
“Gotta talk to you after training’s over later.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Well, I don’t know. Maybe I’m sick.”
“Shit, go see a doctor.”
“I – I just think I’m different. Strange.”
“That’s okay. How are you different?”
And then, the next day: “It’s called being gay. You’re not sick, Tooru. It’s okay.”

A long letter, crumpled up between the notes. “You will never read this, Hajime. I just had to get it out. Last night I cried like a stupid baby because I realized I could never kiss you. I’m sorry for loving you, god, I’m so, so sorry, I – “

Time flies through their notes, and the youngest pile of notes – yellow and filled with doodles from Tooru’s joyful fingers – has Hajime smile.
“We need some junk food & coke for tonight, can’t wait to watch the movie with you! ♥ Tooru”
“I don’t know when you’ll be home. Left food in the fridge for you. Hope you had a nice night. The girl you met in that bar, huh? She’s cute. Good luck.”

“When will you talk to me again?”
“This is childish.”
“The dorm doesn’t clean itself. I’m busy, can’t do it.”
“Please, talk to me. I don’t wanna keep putting sticky notes onto your door.”
“I didn’t go with the girl. I went to Kageyama’s.”
“Fuck. Fuck you. I hate you for making me do this. I love you, always have, always will. Talk to me.”
“Put an alien movie in.”
“I can make pizza. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“You’re an idiot. Pizza is great.”

Hajime leans in and kisses Tooru’s cheek. “Tomorrow, you can put another letter into the box, y’know.” And Tooru smiles, rubs away the tears shimmering in his eyes, before he closes the box and lies back down. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

The wedding vows still rest on their nightstands in the morning, two pure white envelopes catching the sunlight with their silver writing.
“Hajime.”
“Tooru.”

“If my father ever catches you in this position, we will both be – oh. Ohh.”

Hajime presses his slick mouth against the soft inside of Tooru’s shivering thigh and glances up at him. “I will be dead, you will be disinherited. I know. I do not care.”

Before Tooru can say anything else, Hajime hooks one of his legs over his shoulder and brushes his wet-shining lips against the heat between Tooru’s gorgeous legs. It is a wish come true to watch his lover collapse, hips arching in a bow of pale skin and milky traces from the long hour before where Hajime has made him come. Tooru is taking his breath away, burning his skin off with every touch, and when his long elegant fingers tangle in Hajime’s hair, he can feel Tooru tremble hard and uncontrolled, desperate for more.

Hajime kisses the sharp edge of Tooru’s hips, eyes dark and hungry. “But as long as you let me, I will still return, despite the risk,” he says, low and hot words whispered into the hitching skin of Tooru’s heaving stomach. “I want you,” is what Tooru moans back, before his head falls into a long beautiful column of purple-blue bitten skin when Hajime pushes down to devour him once more.

“Good,” he mumbles before his tongue takes Tooru apart, makes him crumble and scream and sob Hajime’s name into the hand he presses over his mouth. The other curls into the silken bed sheets, and his gown falls open over the crown prince’s naked chest when Hajime kisses him moments later and melts their bodies together with a growl, a careful thrust – and Tooru’s nails leave the best kind of pain on his back that he has ever felt.

Because Tooru is the heir to the crown, and what he takes, he takes to the fullest until it belongs to him with bone and soul.

how about some post-first time fluff (like cuddles in bed and talking totally fluffy and innocent)? Would that be okay? Iwaoi ❤❤❤ I love u senpai

The rain hasn’t stopped when he drifts back into consciousness. Tooru doesn’t open his eyes. A dark symphony of thunder growls outside, raindrops dancing onto the window in a calming rhythm, and the warm arm slung over Tooru’s stomach is heavy and sweaty. Hajime doesn’t move. His breath flows softly over the sleep-drowsy skin of Tooru’s neck, Hajime having pushed his face into there when hugging him after last night and not letting go of him again.

Tooru turns his head towards the ocean of breath curling against his pulse, and blinks. Even in the dim light of the street lantern from outside, even through the raging storm clouds and white lightning, Tooru still recognises the relaxed silhouette of Hajime’s face. His jaw rests against Tooru’s shoulder, a heavy hand spread onto his waist as if he’s holding Tooru safe, protecting him even in sleep.

“Good morning.” Tooru whispers the words so quiet that they’re barely alive.

“Mhmm.” Hajime doesn’t move, but his lips twitch for a second. Then, he presses the softest kiss onto Tooru’s neck. Oh. Memories of last drift back to him. Oh, he remembers, the touches and the pure heat, a blunt press into his body, and the wild shivers wrecking him with little gasps and moans, and through it all there had been Hajime, kissing and cradling and being with him –

“Hey, uhm. I didn’t…” Hajime’s breath stills, then he exhales. “…hurt you or anything, yesterday, right? I – you gotta be sore, shit, I should have – “

“God, shut up,” Tooru mumbles back, and it comes out much more loving than he’d intended. It’s ridiculous and heartbreaking and terrifying how much he loves this man. “You were – “ He swallows. Hajime’s looking at him, gentle fingers tracing Tooru’s lips. An encouragement. “I was what?”

“You were everything I wanted, okay, are you happy now? I bet you’re so smug that you got me to admit that, that you made me say you were – “

But Hajime just kisses him, long and breathless. Tooru forgets what he wanted to say and rolls onto his side, Hajime’s hand sliding from his waist to his hip, thumbing tenderly across his warm skin. Their mouths fit together, warm, soft, perfect. “It was the same for me,” Hajime finally whispers into the holy space between their lips. His nose brushes Tooru’s, and his dark eyes are shining bright and god, how can you love someone so much?

And then, Tooru sighs, and gives in to the urge of curling into Hajime’s arms and bathing in the warmth of his scent. “I’m glad it was with you.”

“I hope it’ll never be with anyone else again. For – for both of us.”

Tooru smiles. He kisses Hajime’s chin from below, and finds a comfortable position against his chest, one where he can feel his heartbeat in his own bones. “I think… I want that, too.”

Can you write a fluffy iwaoi?? Please?? I cry every time i read your fics. They’re so lovely but so sad…

Drabble may contain traces of flowers, hair clips and braiding.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about cutting it off.”

“What?” Hajime’s fingers still their gentle movement through Tooru’s hair, and he frowns without wanting to. They’re cuddling on Hajime’s bed, just another evening after exhausting training, and Tooru has his long limbs stretched across the blanket, rolled onto his side so he can read comfortably in his textbook. Hajime doesn’t like to admit it, but recently, he’s been hurrying to finish his homework before Tooru.

Because now Hajime’s chest is pressed smoothly against Tooru’s back, one arm serving as a pillow for Tooru’s head, resting motionlessly underneath his neck – and Hajime carefully runs his fingers through the soft strands of Tooru’s hair.

“Why would you cut it off?” The thought is a bit sad. Hajime closes his eyes and shifts, nuzzling Tooru’s neck where his pulse beats, the warmth and dark scent of his skin sparking a low hum in Hajime’s chest. “I like how long it is,” he says. “It feels nice.” He hesitates for a moment. Should he? Yeah. “It suits you.”

Tooru’s chuckle echoes all the way into Hajime’s chest. The textbook’s pages rustle when Tooru shuts it and turns in Hajime’s embrace. “Is that so?” His eyes are crinkled around a smile, something sheepish glinting in his brown iris. “But it keeps getting in the way. It’s annoying.”

Hajime answers much too fast. “I could braid it.” Goddamnit. He can’t keep his mouth shut around Tooru. Before his boyfriend can make another comment, Hajime scrambles to get off the bed and stomps towards the door. “Be right back! Sit upright and brush it, okay?” He doesn’t wait for Tooru’s reply. The bathroom is the kingdom of his two sisters, four and eighteen years old, and Hajime quickly finds what he’s been searching for.

“You want to put that in my hair?” Tooru raises an elegantly curved brow at the items that Hajime spreads out on the bed before him, just moments after returning from the bathroom. Well, he has to admit, it may be a bit unsual for a boy. But Tooru’s doubtful glance shifts into something softer when Hajime kisses him. “Just let me, okay?” He whispers. And, a miracle, Tooru nods and turns.

His hair is so smooth, Hajime thinks as he tucks a few bobby pins between his teeth to have them ready. His fingers gently trace Tooru’s head, nails scratching over his scalp in a quick, calming massage. “Mhm, that’s nice,” Tooru says and his head tilts back a bit, shoulders relaxing. “Stay like that,” Hajime mumbles through his teeth and takes a deep breath.

He takes his time with Tooru’s hair. The braid is easy, but Hajime tucks a silver and blue hairband into it as well, and puts a violet flower hair clip near Tooru’s ear, just above his temple. The small fake flowers are from his little sister, and Hajime’s picked the tiniest he could find, barely large than his thumb’s nail and perfect for Tooru’s hair. His fingertips gently work them into the valleys where the braid’s strands meet, the white colour almost innocent against Tooru’s brown hair.

“Okay. I think I’m done. I can take the clips out if you don’t like them – “ Oh god, shit, he totally forgot that he was just supposed to braid and not decorate Tooru like some nature princess, “I can fix it, gimme a moment.”

But Tooru’s up on his feet already and taking a hand mirror out of the nightstand. Hajime waits nervously as his boyfriend looks at himself in the mirror. Tooru’s fingers trace the braid, the flower above his ear. Then, he turns to Hajime and lifts his chin with one hand. “Thank you,” he whispers and kisses Hajime’s lips until they tingle. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Hajime mumbles, and no, his cheeks aren’t red at all.

The injury had come to him at the worst possible time, and so Hajime had to watch Tooru and their team win Olympia in front of his tv instead of by his side.

None of them had cried when they’d kissed each other goodbye on the airport. His teammates had all hugged Hajime before, wishing him well, pity in their eyes about the injury that had messed up his foot. But oh, Tooru had pulled him so close that Hajime lost all the air in his lungs.

“I’ll count all the kisses you’re gonna owe me.” Tooru’s breath had been soft against his ear, voice heavy and silver with hidden tears. “One in the morning, one at night. One each time I cry, ten when I win, ten when we meet again.”

“You’ll get all of them when you win,” Hajime had said.
When. Not ‘if’. Some things are as certain as the sun rising in the morning.

The airplane’s half an hour late. Hajime stares at the hallway where people pour out into the airport, and there they are. There he is.

Tooru storms forward, eyes wide, the golden medal swinging around his neck over his open team jacket. He falls into Hajime’s arms, lips soft, salt-wet, begging and praying and whispering hello, it’s me, oh I missed you –

But Hajime gently pushes him away, reaches into his pocket. “You counted?” He asks. Tooru nods, opens his mouth.

“Don’t tell me the number”.

“What?” Something bright vanishes in Tooru’s eyes. He frowns, shifts. “Haji – “

A last deep breath. Hajime’s whole body trembles when he pulls the black velvet box out of his pocket and opens it. “You don’t have to count. I give you all my kisses for the rest of my life. If – if you will.”

And then, Tooru is crying. He sobs out loud, stumbles to his knees together with Hajime and whimpers like a child when the silver ring fits onto his finger, and Hajime’s lips touch his own in a soft reverence that says: welcome home.

It’s barely the hint of a touch, when Hajime drags his nail along the soft skin of Tooru’s thigh, along a swirled galaxy of spit-slick bruises, but Tooru whines like it’s all he has, all he needs to crumble and break for this man who owns him down to his naked soul. “Hajime,” his throat works around the name, lips red-fucked from Hajime’s cock earlier, the taste still heavy there, warm, lingering. “Please, oh please, I need – “

“I know.” The kiss on his hipbone is feather-light. But oh, Tooru jolts from it, tries to speak, and fails miserably. Because Hajime’s fingers curl deep inside him, sliding and fucking dragging over the soft rim of his hole that Hajime’s fucked open so well, where he’s made him come and spread him pliant and dripping wet.

And when Hajime’s dark voice growls “you’re the sweetest thing, darlin’, falling apart for me like that” into his bared neck, Tooru sobs. He shatters, white behind his eyes bursting, his skin and broken whimpers and everything, anything, it all belongs to Hajime. The fingers have stilled for a moment, and Tooru’s throat is raw when his back arches, bends into any form that Hajime wants him in, anything to get him deeper, oh please.

But Hajime’s grin is warm and his chuckle rumbles through Tooru’s skin when he kisses Tooru’s thigh once more, and says: “Not yet, love. I’m not done with you yet.”

‘Oikawa’s Diary.’ || one.

It’s so stupid, but sometimes I wish we were still children.

He loved catching bugs with that little net, beetles and butterflies and even a worm, one time. I don’t think I’ve spent a single summer without him. God, I was such a crybaby, and he knew. Of course he knew. He put a beetle on my arm, and would make fun of how I froze right where I was sitting. But when I started crying, he’d stop laughing and take it away.
He never really hurt me, back then. He never has until now.

I hope he won’t ever forget those summers. Well – at least I’ll remember, even if he doesn’t.

I couldn’t ever forget how Hajime became my friend.