Tag: tooru

inspired by this beautiful artwork of demon Iwaizumi by LordIzxy.

The ink stains Tooru’s fingers for three days. He has dreams about it, how the darkness drips from his fingers as he paints the night sky’s colour on each of the warrior’s skin, hundreds, passing by and getting a touch of Tooru’s finger from shoulder to the back of their hands. 

The crown on Tooru’s hair is cold silver. Not a prince but an emperor, not a warrior but a mage. Not in the front line but upon the highest tower of the castle, there he will be in few hours, magic echoing off his trembling muscles and sweeping over the enemies’ fighters in a roar of bursting sparks. But now, he is casting protection.

And the last in the long line, their commander, naked as all of them are with skin that withstands fire, is the man who knows Tooru’s fingertips like he knows war.

“Iwaizumi,” Tooru says softly. The leader of the demons bows his head. There is no smile on his lips, nothing but death waiting silently in the sharpness of his claws, on hand and feet. His wings are folded, the tips trembling.

Tooru waits until the others have left the throne room. Then, a dam breaks. “You will return to me, soldier,” Tooru whispers, “and that is an order you are not allowed to disobey.” His black-dripping hand grabs Iwaizumi’s arm, nails digging deep where shoulder slopes down to arm, and his mouth crashes against that of the man who has taken him apart between his legs just hours ago.

“Then you better cast your spells well.” Iwaizumi’s growl has the windows in the throne room quiver in their frames. He kisses Tooru, no, devours his mouth with a snarl, teeth leaving a puncture of red-hot-pain flaring up at the edge of Tooru’s bottom lip. He tastes copper, shudders when Iwaizumi licks it off, just like last night when he’d buried his face between Tooru’s thighs, slid between them moments later, made him howl and writhe and beg until he fell, bloomed open and grasped his neck to pull Iwaizumi closer, deeper, sheathed in his heat.

“You will come back home.” Tooru wraps a hand around his horn, whispers a spark of magic into Iwaizumi’s mouth until his body shivers, skin glowing with the protection on it. “And if I have to reap them all with my own hands, I’ll take you back into my arms. Now go. Lead them to victory.”

But Iwaizumi laughs, low and sharp. “I’m not whom they obey.” He steals another kiss, burning hot like the fire that suddenly illuminates the windows from outside, followed by a deafening explosion. Tooru lets go, fingers tracing Iwaizumi’s shoulder, and the long line is crowned by a circle just on the top. “Of course you are. You are as much their demon warrior as you are mine.”

“No.” 

And the demon spreads his wings, horns elongating, claws growing from sharp to lethal. He turns, approaches the window, the glass shattering in a new burst of fire. Iwaizumi doesn’t look back, yet Tooru hears what he speaks before he soars down into the war. 

“They don’t follow a warrior. They follow their ruler.”

‘The Worth for and of Everything.’ – fic. iwaoi.

Iwaizumi Hajime / Oikawa Tooru.

Rating: General Audiences

Characters: Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime

Tags: First Kiss, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Love Confessions, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers

Chapters: 1/1 (complete)

Words: 3,057

Summary:

Hajime stares at him. “Let me get this as crystal clear as possible. You thin you don’t – correct me if I’m wrong, seriously – you think you don’t deserve to be kissed?”

“It sounds stupid if you put it like that.”

Read on ao3.

‘The Worth for and of Everything.’ – fic. iwaoi.

“I need to get out.” Tooru says one night. They’re on their backs in Hajime’s garden, a cigarette passing between their fingers. Hajime came over as soon as Tooru’s parents left for some trip. He’s been here ever since.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Tooru turns his head to him. There are drops of dew in his hair, because it’s summer but the night is above their heads still, sending shivers of cold into the grass and wetness of silver through the garden. Hajime’s mouth tastes like smoke and the too-sweet lemonade Tooru made himself because what’s a summer night without lemonade, Hajime, and who’s going to mind if we put a bit of rum into it? It had tasted awful. They shared it.

“My uncle has a car,” Tooru whispers. His lips are close, sugar-glinting and apart in softness. “We can take it and drive. We can go somewhere. I don’t wanna be here anymore.” 

“Okay,” Hajime says. He wraps his fingers around Tooru’s chin, slides the other hand into his neck. “Where do you want to go?” 

Tooru makes a tiny noise, deep in his throat, and Hajime loves him, loves him, could spend years just kissing the longing out of the crinkled edge of his gleaming eyes. “I don’t know,” Tooru says against his mouth. “You’re gonna come with me, right? I wanna go, but not without you. Come with me. Will you?”

“You’re stupid,” Hajime tells the sweaty skin below Tooru’s lower lip, and kisses his chin, his jaw, tracing warm breath up to his temple, “if you think you have to even ask.” There’s not much time before two different colleges will take their wrists and pull them apart.

“Hajime.” Tooru grabs his shirt, their foreheads knocking together, and Hajime rolls on top of him just in time for Tooru to catch his mouth in a gasp of kiss.

It’ll have to be enough. 

“Get your big thing out of the way, Iwaizumi.”

“My instrument is perfectly reasonable-sized, thank you very much.”

“And yet you just play the grumbly low background tune.”

“Oh? Jealous that you’re just one of many in your rows? Size complex much?”

“Just move aside.” Kuroo’s grin almost splits from one ear to another, and he bumps his fist against Hajime’s shoulder when pushing past him. It’s tradition by now: before every practice, they banter and insult each other a bit to let off steam. Violins and cellos are bound to have a bit of a rivalry, so the teasing never stops. Hajime doesn’t mind. This is the first orchestra he’s playing in since graduation, and even though it’s not yet the Berlin Philharmonic’s yet, but he’s getting there. 

“How ‘bout we grab some food after work?” Hajime adjusts a peg on his cello when the others start tuning next to him. “I’ll treat you,” he adds, only half listening to the notes humming in the background. His fingers work automatically, the strings of his cello trembling slightly as he touches the bow to it. 

“Sure,” Kuroo says. “I’ll bring Akaashi, if you don’t mind, and Bokuto – “

“Everyone, please take a seat, we’re getting started.” The orchestra falls quiet, all remaining chatter dies out in an instant. Their conductor approaches, her dark hair looking as silky as ever and really, if Hajime wasn’t as straight as the scroll on his beloved cello, he’d be swooning throughout every practice. But Kiyoko’s eyes are glinting like she knows a secret nobody else does. That means she’s up to something. It means serious business.

A moment later, Hajime understands why.

“Listen, please. I have someone to introduce to you. This is Tooru Oikawa.”

Hajime thinks that he can feel a string snap inside his chest. The man that walks up to Kiyoko’s side is simply gorgeous, in a way that has Hajime’s jaw drop all stupid and stunned. Breathing is unnecessary. The guy has soft brown hair that tickles along his cheekbones (god, who even has that much in the genetic lottery, Hajime is going to file a complaint), and he lifts a hand to wave.

“Hello. I’m sure we’ll get along well, sweethearts.”

Shit. Hajime forces his mouth shut and tries not to blink too much when staring at the guy’s face. Is it just his imagination or did that guy just wink? And – at him?

“What do you play?” Someone asks. All eyes are on Hajime, including Kiyoko and that too-beautiful-to-be-real (oh yeah, Tooru is his name, Hajime memorizes in a newly named “to tap list” in his brain) are staring at him. Oh no, did he really just ask that? 

Tooru is the first to recover. He laughs, teeth too fucking white to be real or fair, and pulls the black bag that Hajime just now notices down from his shoulder. “See for yourself, big guy. But don’t worry, I’ll be in your line of sight, in case you wanna burn me with your eyes some more.”

Five minutes later, Hajime knows better.

Of course it’s the flute. Of any instruments that exists in this goddamn wonderful orchestra (and there are lots), it’s the silver artwork of intricate keys that Tooru puts his long fingertips on. His nails are short, just a sliver of white at the tip. Hajime may or may not be in love with how his lips push against the mouthpiece, and it seems like Tooru kisses every single note that leaves his flute.

It’s only after ten minutes into practice that Hajime gets elbowed by Sawamura next to him, whispering “focus! Our part is coming up” that Hajime can shake off his fascination. The music pulls him in as it always does, tunes of copper and quicksilver mingling into the sympony they’ll be playing two months from now. Practice blends into a blur of music and Kiyoko’s voice working them through the first part, into criticism and nods and short remarks while everyone’s fingers change between scribbling notes into the sheet music and flying across their instruments.

They work overtime, again. Nobody complains, and yet there is a collective exhale when Kiyoko nods and calls it a day. Hajime makes sure that everyone with a string instrument is getting their stuff cleaned up. He’s so occupied that it takes two taps on his shoulder to make him turn around.

“Tooru,” he says, and fuck, he’s even more overwhelming up close. “If you have questions, you should maybe consult Tobio. He’s responsible for the wind instr-”

“You know, I never believed my old music teacher.” The smile that stretches across Tooru’s lips makes Hajime’s heart bolt against his ribs. The flute is still in Tooru’s hand, silver reflecting the light and shining it on Tooru’s arm. 

“Excuse me?” Breathe, Hajime tells himself, but he ends up licking his lips.

“Oh, just. The cello really is the most erotic instrument. We should get dinner sometime, Iwai- no, Hajime. Don’t you think?” And if there’s a brush of pale, warm fingers against Hajime’s elbow before Tooru passes by, humming the tune of Hajime’s cello part, well then those looks Tooru threw him during practice not just mere imagination.

But he’s still wrong, Hajime grins while packing up. A few hours ago, he would have agreed with Tooru’s music teacher in all instances. Now, there’s a certain soft mouth pressing to humming metal that rivals even Hajime’s finger skills.

“When you said that your perfect first date was ‘mythology’, I didn’t think about this. I thought we were going to a museum, maybe watch a movie.” Hajime stares at the 400 page thick book ‘A Brief History of the Wolf in Fables and Legends’ that he’s got propped up on his chest. There are about five different coloured post-its sticking out of the first half. The rest remains white and untouched and that is exactly the problem. “I thought we were gonna do something normal for once.”

“If you wanted normal, you shouldn’t have made us friendship bracelets when we were five.” There’s no sympathy coming with the amusement in Tooru’s voice. He’s sprawled out across Hajime’s legs, one wrapped around his waist and the other serving as a (really terrible) makeshift book stand and stationary display. 

Hajime squints down at him. Tooru has his glasses on, and it does things to Hajime’s chest. It’s so stupid – just a bit of black plastic and a reflection of himself in the glass. Maybe it’s because hey, this is his childhood friend wearing them, the person that Hajime trusts most in the world. The one who said yes to a date with an exasperation that sounded like Hajime should have asked earlier, not only just in college. The soft peck Tooru had pushed on his cheek still felt warm.

But seriously. “This is not a date,” Hajime mumbles.

“I never said it was,” Tooru points out. He arches a perfectly shaped brow when Hajime groans and collapses into the pillow. “No more, please. I get it, you need a topic for your thesis, but do you really need my help? You’re gonna ace this. There’s a reason your professor fucking adores you.”

Tooru laughs. “Oh he does, that’s true. Not as much as you though.”

“I hate you.” I just wanted to cuddle, Hajime thinks. And maybe kiss. A bit.

A beat of silence passes. Then, Tooru shifts. A book is slapped shut, pens pushed around the sheets. Tooru appears in Hajime’s field of vision, kneeling on top of him. “We don’t need dates,” he says. Oh. Hajime swallows. Breathing becomes so much more difficult when Tooru’s lips curl into a smile, the tip of his tongue darting over his bottom lip. 

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Tooru leans down, pushes their foreheads together with a softness that surprises Hajime. He reaches out, finding Tooru’s hand to put his own around and rest it by his head. “And why not?”

“Dunno.” A shrug, and Hajime hums when Tooru’s mouth pushes against his jaw, warm and gentle. “Maybe ‘cause we’ve kinda always been together? And now stop thinking. Because I’m gonna grant us a short break and I intend to spend it right here, with my mouth on yours.”

‘A Brief History of the Wolf in Fables and Legends’ tumbles to the floor, but neither of them really cares over the soft noise of Tooru’s lips opening up below Hajime’s kiss.

“Hi, Mrs. Oikawa.”

“How often have I told you, Hajime, it’s Miko. I’ve known you since before you could walk.”

“Sorry, yeah, I know. ’s just that I was phoning Tooru’s physiotherapist earlier, and the formal stuff kinda stuck.”

“Sure, sweetheart. …physio? Again? Is he hurt? He’s overworking himself, right? Don’t lie to me.”

“You… you know how he is.”

“Yes. Like mother, like son, I suppose. Are you – ”

“I’m making sure that he’s okay, yeah. Forced him to eat and go to bed early. No more training until next week. I made miso soup, actually, after your recipe that he loves.”

“Hajime. I wanted to ask whether you’re okay.”

“Oh. Yes? I mean, yes. I’m fine, thanks.”

“Honestly! At this point, I’m more worried about you than him. I know that you’re always with him, by his side, putting up with those shenanigans.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t. Take care of yourself though, okay? I’ll send you two some care packages. I think your mom brought one to the post office earlier, too.”

“You really don’t have to – okay. Thank you. Ah, I think he’s awake, do you wanna talk to him? He’s been napping, I can’t even sit on my own couch. Unbelievable.”

“Mhm, just hand him the phone. Ah, and Hajime?”

“Yeah?”

“Get it together and ask him already. That ring is beautiful, after all.”

“…okay, Miko.”

“No problem, sweetheart. Now let me talk to my son so I can scold him a bit more softly than you usually do.”

ceejles:

“Oikawa. Hey. Are you – oh.” 

 Hajime’s mouth snaps shut. The movie is flickering in white and yellow, a flashback of the protagonist to a happier time when they were younger, the world pure, golden, free of monsters. There’s still so much popcorn over, it’s barely past midnight and usually, they’d be in a heated discussion about whether the aliens are animated like shit or not. 

 But Oikawa’s hair tickles his neck. Hajime tries to breathe as slow as he can, his arm tingling where it’s falling asleep, supporting the heavy pressure that Oikawa puts against him. How did he get tired so easily, Hajime wonders, watching him as his lips pull into a smile. Oikawa looks young and small like that. His legs are over Hajime’s lap, God, why’s he still wearing those silly alien pajamas, and he smells like summer, the forest they played in as children, popcorn and soft, endless trust. 

 Hajime is careful when he reaches for a handful of popcorn. He manages to move slow enough for Oikawa to not even flinch. The movie goes on, but Hajime chews on the popcorn and his eyes lose focus on the main protagonist. A hero, out to change the world. Hajime touches his thumb to Oikawa’s collarbone. 

 “Sleep,” he whispers, words lost in Oikawa’s hair. “I’ll stay here.”

(written by Moami on Twitter) 

Another preview of my piece for @kittlekrattle‘s IwaOi Fanzine: Moments 
Please check it out AAAA!!
[Preoreder it here!] 

What a beautiful work of art! Thank you for letting me write for your creation, dear cj, and a big compliment to Kami for putting together the incredible zine that will feature those precious Iwaois. You are both so amazing. ♥

astronautical-polarbear:

“How the hell did you even get up there?!”

Hajime’s
words are a dark growl, and Tooru winces. He doesn’t like it at all
when Hajime stares at him as if he’s just eaten away all of his tuna.
“It’s not my fault that the cat treats were up here,” he says, quiet,
and then raises his voice into a whine. “Just help me get down!
Iwa-chan, you – you won’t leave me up here, right?”

Tooru
watches how Hajime shuffles back a few steps from the big kitchen
cupboard, seeming to consider the situation. Yes, okay, maybe Tooru is a
bit of an idiot for climbing up the side of the cupboard and
accidentally kicking over the hat stand, which would have been his only
way down. It’s his own fault, fine, but that won’t help him down the
steep front of the cupboard and back onto the floor. Plus, his tail –
his beautiful, wonderful tail got hurt!

Tooru
sniffs. A bit of the fluffy hair got stuck in the rack and when he
tried to pull it away, the hat stand fell over, taking precious
creme-pale fur from his tail with it on the way down. “Look at this,
Iwa-chan… I look terrible, so please help me down already, I don’t
wanna stay here!”

Hajime
watches him from below. His short, charcoal grey tail twitches, clearly
distressed. Tooru makes himself smaller, wrapping his ruined tail
around his front paws. “Please?” He asks, flicking his ears back and
forth.

“Fine,
alright.” Hajime moves back another inch, then sits down. “But you
gotta jump.” Before Tooru can protest, Hajime cuts him off. “There’s no
other way. I’ll catch you, okay? Don’t you trust me, idiot?”

Tooru
does. He also wants to get down from the cupboard and back into his
comfortable hammock by the fireplace and he wants to nuzzle Hajime’s fur
and-So, he jumps.

“Oomph!”
– “Iwa-chan?” Tooru only realizes that he’s closed his eyes when warm
fur presses against his nose. Hajime’s flat like a pancake below him,
but he seems alright. And Tooru is back on the ground! He gives a joyful
mewl,

“Thank you!”, and before Hajime can defend himself, Tooru is
nuzzling his chin. He begins purring as soon as Hajime relaxes. “My back
hurts,” Hajime mumbles.

But Tooru just purrs and wraps his tail around Hajime’s, snuggling against him. “I knew you’d catch me.”

– Moami

Isn’t Moami’s writing simply the cutest?! My deepest thanks and all my love for all of their patience and for agreeing to collab this little iwaoi with me! This was so fun to brainstorm with you~ ❤

Lina’s cat Iwaois are the light of my life. Working on this has been so much fun, and Lina is an absolute delight and a star in the sky. Thank you, sweetheart, for letting me write this and creating that wonderful gif. ♥ Thanks so much!

mangobursts:

“Adults say that life is complicated, Hajime thinks, but luckily there are easy and simple things, too. Being with Tooru is one of them. They eat together, switch milk packages (because Hajime always gets strawberry and it’s Tooru’s favourite, so he slides it over), and they share. Sometimes it’s not equal. Tooru tries to steal his meat, then Hajime snatches one of his onigiri, and Tooru pouts. 

But they always sit on the stone steps below the old tree’s shadow, talking loud and giggling quietly, and it’s easy. He can’t imagine eating alone. Tooru says that he never has to. Hajime hopes that it’ll be as easy as that.”

 –moami

preview of my guest art for @kittlekrattle‘s lovely iwaoi fanzine, “Moments”. once again, thank you for inviting me kamibabb!! it’s been a great honor ><

[ PREORDER IT HERE ]

Thank you so much, mangobursts, for letting me writer a little drabble for your art! Your style is so very cute and your children Iwaois have a spot in my heart, aaa, I’m so weak. Kami, congratulations once again on making such an amazing zine ♥