積ん読

THE APOTHECARY DIARIES  ⋆  薬屋のひとりごと (2025)

you presented as an alpha shortly before exiting high school. it never bothered haruka and he never presented, so you both assumed he was a beta. he was content with the friendship you two had, the borderline, not quite romance you two shared. until he gets hit with his first heat and nirei's asking if you can check in with haruka because so many scents are making him nauseated and, oh, the relief you bring. he can't even find it in him to be embarrassed by the fact that he's still yet to tell you how he feels but now he desperately needs you to be inside him.

haruka presented first and you were happy for him to attach himself to you and find comfort in your presence and subtle scent when you thought you were a beta, only for you to attend to him during one of his heats like you usually do and he's already on you before your brain can register that your scent has changed and everything's turning foggy as you feel this irrepressible urge to breed.

sakae thinking he'd be fine when he would present as an alpha because nothing changed when you had. then his first rut hits him and he fixates on the way your scent sticks to his jacket you borrowed last week and he's pretty sure alpha-alpha relationships aren't the greatest but does it really matter when the lingering remnants of your smell have him harder than he was before?

"you know you were supposed to respond without resorting to violence."

There's a weight to his shoulders but a spark present in his eyes, a flash of mischief that's gone as quickly as it was spotted. He's polite when introductions are being made, exceedingly cordial in ways you weren't expecting. When you start working over him, he handles your touch with relative ease, worrying you only when he tries to hide his winces at the gentle prodding of his shoulder. (He tries to alleviate your concern with half a joke and a cocky smirk, turning him entirely too boyish).

Each time he sees you, he maintains the same edge of propriety that you saw when you first met, a thin layer of distance that exists until you two are alone. Azami remains quick to gauge your mood before offering light teasing, revealing his propensity for fun. You like it about him, the seriousness and gravity of his role and title having stolen some of his youth. It's endearing that he finds you someone worth letting loose around—especially here.

It's easy for the image of him to become tinted with the color of friendship.

For a while, his visits are scarce, tasked with delegating rather than handling issues himself, and you're content to treat the people working under his leadership, expanding your sorceries beyond his specifications. Every now and then, you'll pass each other in the hall, usually engaged in a conversation that prohibits a proper interaction, and each time, you offer little more than a wink in his direction, barely aware of the way he'll keep watching.

He comes to you one evening, busted and bleeding, half an apology on his lips. As you worry over him, the corners of your mouth turned down, brows furrowed in concentration and concern, he stops you. The hand you just repaired comes to rest on the hands still at work, silently requesting the attention you easily give him. It affords him the opportunity to lean forward, to press his lips against yours.

It's impulsive, not unlike the fight that led up to this.

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader | 560 words sfw. post-canon. mentions of harassment by a third party. slight angst. (previous) | (next)

When Iwaizumi comes home, the apartment's dark, nearly devoid of all life, save for the dim light coming from the closed bedroom door and your muffled voice. You’ve been frustrated with him for a myriad of reasons and his being late after a tutoring session with her doesn’t help.

This underclassman who’s taken a shine to Iwaizumi, disregarding his insistence that he’s unavailable, that he has a partner—though, the term he used was fiancée. It doesn’t help that you had later popped into his section—the same that she attends—and introduced yourself as his girlfriend a week later. Not that he could blame you since he’s still working on building up the courage to propose.

He tried to shrug her off, tried to get her to switch sections with the other T.A., tried to remove her from his tutoring schedule, but his department—and the union—firmly shut him down, citing the “fulfillment of his contractual obligations.”

It only got worse when she started messaging you, when she appeared during date nights, when she had blatantly made a move with you not four meters away.

And then there’s the situation with your dad. A triple bypass surgery demanded your return to Japan last October and you haven’t spoken to your parents since. Iwaizumi, however, has increased his communications with them since your mother reached out. He wants a better relationship with them, wants your father’s blessing when he asks again, but you’re insistent you want nothing to do with them. You had found out about their correspondence when your mom emailed you to check in, including a question about Iwaizumi’s studies.

He should be glad that you’re still here, that you aren’t sleeping at school, but he sees the papers from UCLA’s Education Abroad Program, the pamphlets for an Argentinian medical program, and an award letter from the program director. He can't help but read it, but take in the offer extended—a full-ride for a term abroad, offering you a place due to your class ranking, ignoring the fact you hadn't applied. At least, that's the impression he gets from the letter, along with the fact that he doesn't remember you bringing up EAP before.

Approaching the bedroom door, he hears your side of the conversation with Oikawa and he has to pretend that hearing you talk to him, call him ‘Tōru’ doesn’t bother him. That it doesn’t bother him to hear you cry into the phone, asking what you did wrong, asking why things are the way they are.

He leans against the wall next to the bedroom door, sliding down until he’s seated on the ground. He listens to your insecurities, to your fears, to everything you spill to his best friend because you’re afraid to tell Iwaizumi. He listens as you broach the topic of doing a semester abroad in Argentina, something that wasn't even on your radar, not with your last year about to start. He listens to you admit that it's a great opportunity, that, perhaps, it's better for the relationship if you two spend some time apart.

Not like we see much of each other anyway.

It isn’t until it hits ten in California that he realizes it’s two in the morning in Argentina, that you’re still on the phone with Oikawa, and that you still don’t know Iwaizumi’s home.

in the morning, you wake in an unfamiliar bed with an arm slung around your middle, warm and familiar even if this was your first night together. there's a surety to it, a safety to the way azami holds you, even as you turn to look at him. there's a vulnerability about him that you haven't seen since before the war, his features softened by sleep. soft, not unlike the fluttering beneath your skin at the sight. his hold tightens, bringing you closer, and you nearly feel loved, though you're sure he's been this way with the others that have come before.

(you know of them, fleeting things that have always ended after too short of times because it's obvious that he's waiting. someone in his peripheral who guarantees that none of this will last. it's why you've never pursued him yourself; so obvious is he with his patience that it sparks a quiet jealousy in your throat.)

as you pull away, uninterested in letting this feeling fester, he shifts.

"where d'ya think you're going?" his head lifts, eye squinting at you through the blanket of sleep that still engulfs him.

"nowhere."

"y'sure about that?"

"yeah, i'm sure."

the corners of his mouth quirk as his head falls back into his pillow, arm bringing you flush against him. "good."

azami receives his mark when you're all teenagers, knows it's you, but decides to wait rather than try to force you into a life or role you don't want or aren't ready for, not like his family. for a long while, he's content with your friendship, with the chance to be by your side where he can be.

(it's something he keeps to himself, even as you date around a bit. you don't flaunt it, annoyed or embarrassed by the teasing you'll endure from them all, but he'll catch snippets here and there, like the couple months that you and shiba try dating half a year before the talks. shiba only learns afterward, equal parts apologetic and frustrated because he never would've done that if he knew.)

he's there for you, constantly, and you feel bad for always needing him. only once or twice does he talk soulmates with you, but never does he mention anything to you (now that he's older, he wants to see the moment you start looking at him the way he looks at you).

one night when the three of you are getting drinks together, shiba asks why in all your dates, you never asked azami.

"that's easy. it's obvious that he already has his soulmark."

his smile is involuntary, the knowledge that it's obvious to you, even if you're otherwise blind to it. "yeah, but it's not like they're ready for me." it only hurts a little when there isn't even a sliver of a reaction from you, no hint of guilt or apology, anything to suggest that you know. the second the thought comes, the second the words slip past his loosened lips, his heart picks up in his chest. "maybe i just want a kiss like shiba got one."

shiba takes his cue, excusing himself to go smoke with a laugh, all while you watch azami with a surprised, if not pleased, smile. you raise a brow as you shift subconsciously, bringing yourself just a little closer.

"yeah? you'd want what shiba got? the kisses and the fucking and all the petty arguments that nearly destroyed our friendship?"

he just needs a taste, just a little something to sustain him for the long haul.

only for him to come back different. only for the war to start.

(it tickles him, the way your smile presses into your cheeks when he turns his head in your direction and tells you to focus.)

time passes and you quickly become one of his most trusted subordinates. the hishaku start attacking the sword wielders, their forces more numerous than predicted. without needing to receive his order, you turn to him and say with that smile on your face,

"On it, Boss. Don't worry about it."

and he doesn't worry about it because it's you and he helped train you.

you don't make it back, but the people you were protecting make it to their new locations just fine.