Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Haikyuu! no tags 537 words, rain god!Oikawa
There is nothing more ineffectual than trying to get his fickle boyfriend of a rain god to stop using the weather as a means of catching his attention, Hajime discovers.
He points his umbrella towards the darkening sky, eyes narrowing as he grits out, “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Unfortunately, waving a Godzilla-printed umbrella as menacingly he can at the clouds— and, in extension, their ruler – doesn’t really constitutes itself as a threat to Oikawa, so all Hajime achieves is the distant rumble of thunder and a splatter of raindrops to his face, which is ridiculous because it hasn’t even started raining properly yet, cementing the fact that Oikawa is purposely singling Hajime out as the target for his mischief.
The wind blows wilder, almost as if its howling and whistling at his predicament, breezily taunting: too bad, so sad, look at poor wet Hajime!
A vein pops up on Hajime’s forehead; well, two can play this game, and he’s definitely not going to be a pushover. He grabs the hem of his jersey and pulls it up to wipe his dripping face, exposing a tantalizing view of his torso— especially his abs, in particular.
Previously strong in its gust, the wind now stutters as his shirt rides higher, higher, and higher, abruptly dying when it stops short of revealing his chest.
Inwardly amused, Hajime tilts his head upwards and shoots a cocky smirk while releasing the hem in his grasp. It unceremoniously flops back down, cutting off any further sight of his body. “You actually fell for it, you dumbass.”
Lightning flashes overhead. A warning. Or, in a certain rain god’s case, a pouting.
Hajime scoffs, “What? Can’t handle a taste of your own medicine?” Then, he spreads his arms, and his cheeks redden the slightest bit. “Get over here yourself if you want my attention so badly. Don’t expect me to pamper thin air, okay?”
Nothing happens for a full minute, making Hajime feel like an idiot for standing at the entrance gate of his home with his arms wide open; he’s about to put them down and slump to his room in annoyance, when the black clouds above part themselves, letting a ray of white shine through and project itself onto Hajime’s chest.
“W-wai--!!” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence in time for a bundle of brown hair, gangly limbs, and teal robes, at that moment, chooses to hurtle down following the ray’s line of direction, resulting in a collision with Hajime. Meeting the ground is an inevitable conclusion because having an armful of rain god doesn’t mean the laws of inertia will slacken anytime soon for a mere human.
Slowly, carefully, Oikawa unfurls himself akin to a paper Japanese water flower placed in a pond. He gently bumps the top of his head on Hajime’s chin. The smile on his face is electric. “Thanks for catching me again, Iwa-chan!”
Hearing that makes Hajime snort, but his fingers stroke along Oikawa’s nape, and he buries his nose into his lover’s hair, smiling when he smells the familiar tones of flooded earth and sharp ozone.
(Oikawa is Hajime’s very own storm.)
Hajime replies, “It’s hard to miss when you fall like your damn raindrops, Kusokawa.”
FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G
no tags
537 words, rain god!Oikawa
There is nothing more ineffectual than trying to get his fickle boyfriend of a rain god to stop using the weather as a means of catching his attention, Hajime discovers.
He points his umbrella towards the darkening sky, eyes narrowing as he grits out, “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Unfortunately, waving a Godzilla-printed umbrella as menacingly he can at the clouds— and, in extension, their ruler – doesn’t really constitutes itself as a threat to Oikawa, so all Hajime achieves is the distant rumble of thunder and a splatter of raindrops to his face, which is ridiculous because it hasn’t even started raining properly yet, cementing the fact that Oikawa is purposely singling Hajime out as the target for his mischief.
The wind blows wilder, almost as if its howling and whistling at his predicament, breezily taunting: too bad, so sad, look at poor wet Hajime!
A vein pops up on Hajime’s forehead; well, two can play this game, and he’s definitely not going to be a pushover. He grabs the hem of his jersey and pulls it up to wipe his dripping face, exposing a tantalizing view of his torso— especially his abs, in particular.
Previously strong in its gust, the wind now stutters as his shirt rides higher, higher, and higher, abruptly dying when it stops short of revealing his chest.
Inwardly amused, Hajime tilts his head upwards and shoots a cocky smirk while releasing the hem in his grasp. It unceremoniously flops back down, cutting off any further sight of his body. “You actually fell for it, you dumbass.”
Lightning flashes overhead. A warning. Or, in a certain rain god’s case, a pouting.
Hajime scoffs, “What? Can’t handle a taste of your own medicine?” Then, he spreads his arms, and his cheeks redden the slightest bit. “Get over here yourself if you want my attention so badly. Don’t expect me to pamper thin air, okay?”
Nothing happens for a full minute, making Hajime feel like an idiot for standing at the entrance gate of his home with his arms wide open; he’s about to put them down and slump to his room in annoyance, when the black clouds above part themselves, letting a ray of white shine through and project itself onto Hajime’s chest.
“W-wai--!!” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence in time for a bundle of brown hair, gangly limbs, and teal robes, at that moment, chooses to hurtle down following the ray’s line of direction, resulting in a collision with Hajime. Meeting the ground is an inevitable conclusion because having an armful of rain god doesn’t mean the laws of inertia will slacken anytime soon for a mere human.
Slowly, carefully, Oikawa unfurls himself akin to a paper Japanese water flower placed in a pond. He gently bumps the top of his head on Hajime’s chin. The smile on his face is electric. “Thanks for catching me again, Iwa-chan!”
Hearing that makes Hajime snort, but his fingers stroke along Oikawa’s nape, and he buries his nose into his lover’s hair, smiling when he smells the familiar tones of flooded earth and sharp ozone.
(Oikawa is Hajime’s very own storm.)
Hajime replies, “It’s hard to miss when you fall like your damn raindrops, Kusokawa.”