#iwazumi

[18+]

the vibration from the speakers downstairs were felt on your back, while you laid down on iwazumis bed. he had your hips pinned down with his forearms, caging you in so you aren’t moving around for him.

“hold still… movin’ too much—“ he said against your puffy folds.

he dipped his head down on you again, but you stopped him, grabbing his hair and sitting up slightly on both elbows.

“what is that..?” you spoke shyly, raising a brow down at iwa

“what is what?” he said, resting his cheek on your inner thigh while he waited for you to release your fingers from his hair.

“feels hard— like cold everytime you go back down.”

“ohhhh~ you talkin’ about this?—“ he drew his tongue out from his mouth, revealing a small metal ball on his red tongue, licking a strip on your lower stomach. “—just got it, got dared by the guys and they told me they’d pay for all my drinks if I did it.”

you groaned, throwing your head back on the pillow. “god you’re stupid…”

he laid more kisses on your lower stomach, inner thighs, going back to your pussy. he pecked your clit before licking an experimental strip on your folds.

“feel it? right here—“ he rolled his tongue in circles around your clit, watching your movements precisely. “—feel good?”

you arched your back up, thighs threatening to sit on him, unable to keep still underneath Jim and his gaze. “right there— yes haijime…”

he slapped one palm over your thigh, bracing your legs wide open, keeping both hands down on your thighs. he continued, moving his piercing in specific directions to drive you insane.

first gen filipino from davao, moved when he was eleven. speaks both tagalog and cebuano

triple knots his shoes because he hates tying them in public but then gets annoyed having to undo the knot when he gets home

if he gets angry his accent gets real thick and its much much harder to understand him

has a vendetta against vending machines

had a rat’s tail on his left side but cut it off when he became the vice captain of seijoh

Notes: use of yn, f!reader, not proofread, literally just jealous iwa please feel free to request stuff :) wc: 0.7k

Iwaizumi Hajime is jealous. He really shouldn’t be, but he is. He’s used to people being more interested in Oikawa, his best friend being the star of the team. But Matsukawa? That’s new. And he doesn’t like that. Maybe he’s biased, maybe it’s because of you. Maybe if you hugged Oikawa he’d be jealous of that too. But right now, you’re hugging Mattsun, and he hates it. He tries not to burn a hole into one of his best friends’ back but it’s hard. Mattsun knows how he feels about you, so why is he being so blatantly affectionate with you when he knows Iwaizumi is right there?

You’re too far for him to hear what you’re saying. All he can do is grit his teeth as he watches you unwrap yourself from his friend, giving Mattsun one of those smiles. Urgh, those smiles, the things Iwaizumi dreams of being on the receiving end of, to see the radiance directed at him and only him. Well, it seems that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Iwaizumi shoves his hands in his pockets and stalks away, unable to bear watching you two interact any longer. With his back turned to you, he doesn’t notice the disappointed look in your eyes as he leaves, nor can he see the knowing glint in Mattsun’s eyes.

~

Iwaizumi knows he shouldn’t be mad at Mattsun. It’s not like you were dating him, he just has a crush on you and is too much of a coward to act on it. He can’t help himself though, he notices that he’s a bit more curt, a bit more short-tempered with Mattsun today. He gets more frustrated if Mattsun misses a block or doesn’t receive the ball properly. Iwaizumi feels bad about his behaviour but he really can’t help it, every time he looks at Mattsun, he just sees that hug again.

Mattsun knows what’s going on. He doesn’t really care to be honest. He kind of hopes that this is what will finally give Iwa the balls to ask you out. He doesn’t mind his friend being a bit meaner to him today, because he knows that he’d probably be jealous too if the roles were reversed.

Makki, however, is pissed. He doesn’t know who shoved this stick up Iwa’s ass but his constant side eyes and glares towards Matsukawa are annoying him. So when Iwaizumi makes yet another snide remark towards Mattsun, Makki hits his limit. He angrily walks up to Iwaizumi and shoves him, “Hey man what the fuck is up with you today?! I don’t know who shoved a stick up your ass or what your problem with Mattsun is but you need to cool off.”

Looking at Makki’s expression, Iwa knows he messed up. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing, “Yeah I’m sorry guys,” he shoots a look at Mattsun, “I don’t know what up with me today. I think it’s best if I just leave practice early.”

He turns around to go get his stuff before Mattsun decides to speak up, “You know she was asking me about you, right?”

Iwaizumi whips his head around, “What?”

“Y/n,” Iwa’s eyes widen, Mattsun continues, “she was asking me about you. She wanted to know what your favourite kind chocolate was and she knew Oikawa couldn’t keep a secret.”

“Hey!” Oikawa interjected, offended at the stray comment.

Mattsun rolls his eyes, “Obviously I wasn’t supposed to tell you but just act surprised when she gives you some next week.”

Mattsun sees that Iwaizumi is still in shock, eyes wide and mouth agape, and adds, “Yeah, just like that.”

That gets Iwaizumi out of his state, he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m sorry for overreacting Mattsun, I guess it was pretty childish of me.”

“It’s okay, I knew what was going on, just make sure you don’t fuck up with her, she gives good hugs and I don’t want to lose out on those.”

Iwa’s eyebrow twitches at the obvious joke, “Trust me I won’t.”

The boys get back to practice, not missing the obviously improved mood of their ace, nor the smile he’s so desperate to hide.

k.e || s.e || d.k

Yes of course! Sorry for the wait I was working on a Rindou piece and my physics exam. It’s like 3Am right now, but I still want to finish this for you boo. Thanks again For requesting Anon, if you like this, don’t forget to like and ask if you have any other ideas. Also, you didn’t specify which you wanted, so this can be interpreted as romantic or platonic. Status: unedited

warnings: crackfic, bad grammar, cursing, violence, oikawa exists, oikawa slander, color coded characters, reader is a whole ass menace, mentions of vaping

🩵🤍Aoba Josai With a Sharpshooter/ Archer Manager🤍🩵

As a Team (platonic)

Oikawa, Iwazumi, Kunimi, Kiyotani, Kindaichi, Matsukawa, you

My first thought when I looked at this post was simple. How many times and we hit oikawa in the head. Everything else kinda spiraled from there. Just imagine being able to do that shit with pinpoint accuracy, and when he turns around to see who did it, be like the gremlin chick from hotel transilivania and be like ,” I didn’t do that”. And then he proceeds to blame Iwa, and pure unrefined chaos erupts from there. *clears throat and sips matcha* good shit

But on a more serious note, these boys are completely ready to take full advantage of your skills. Remember when oikawa sprained his ankle? Guess who had to replicate his serves instead so they could practice receives. That’s right, you. And your aim is a little too good sometimes (Kindiachi has been hit in the face) but they honestly don’t care, they just looking to get practice in, and maybe a few tips here and there for aiming.

But that’s just during their practice. During your archery or other practice. Oh my god. Imagine having like 12 annoying older brothers. Like both Archery and Sharpshooting are pretty quiet sports. But with these mfs at your practice? Oh dear lord. These gon be the most obnoxiously loud humans to walk the planet (3rd only to Fukurodani and Kurasuno). Imagine with me. It’s so silent you can hear a pin drop. You’re trying to concentrate before you’re pulling back your string. You take a deep breath and just as you’re about to let go- “WOOOOOOOO THATS MY LIL SISSSSSS/BROOOO!!!” “SHUT UP SHITTY KAWA!THEY NEED TO FOCAS!” “HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IWA!?” “YOU WOULD KNOW IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH AN DUMBASS!” “IF YALL DONT SHUT THE FUCK UP ILL SHUT YOU UP MYSELF” yeah they’re THAT kind of sports parents. They got kicked out last time :)

── .✦ Iwa and Kawa who always argued amongst themselves, even while hanging out at the arcade. Oikawa making demands from Iwa to win an alien plush, Iwa trying his hardest but not being able to - still, wasting all of his extra cash to do his best! Oikawa who gets wayyy too excited and becomes clumsy, bumping into someone behind him as he attempted to jump on Iwazumi in frustration - like a little koala. (that's probably how they met you afterall)

── .✦ Iwa who was reserved about his feelings for you, usually being calm and collected. His affection was shown in subtle gestures like walking on the side of the path closest to the road, putting his hand over your head if you dropped something under the table, or sending you check in messages if you go quiet - even if it's part of your baseline personality.

── .✦ Oikawa who showed his love in a mix of excitement when he's alone with you and Iwa, messing and joking around, teasing each other. But in public he could be a real gentleman, living up to the charming man he was known to be - giving you his jacket if you were cold, packing snacks in his bag for your university classes because they can be so long and boring, always talking about date ideas in the group chat and organising calls between you all.

── .✦ You who understood Oikawa and Iwazumi didn't always have time to play volleyball given they'd started studying, so whenever they had a good chunk of time you went with them to the volleyball court. You'd pack snacks and bring drinks, towels. You would even join in if you felt like it, and if you didn't, you'd take your laptop to study or watch a movie.

── .✦ Oikawa and Iwazumi both had the same picture of you as their background, and constantly change it to the newest picture they had on their phone - most likely from the lost recent date. (only Oikawa was obsessed over the picture you had of them as your background - he cared about his photograph image, Iwa didn't really mind).

── .✦ Dates which included a variety of activities; hiking, rock climbing, going to an arcade, going to an amusement/roller-coaster park. Anything that sounded fun or new! Including aquarium dates and movie marathons - those were the best when you were all cuddled under a blanket with popcorn, (you leaning against Iwazumis shoulder while Oikawa rested his head on your thighs.)

── .✦ Matching everything! Matching sleep-wear even if you didn't live together, matching jackets, matching key chains for your phones or bags. You and Oikawa adored it and who was Iwazumi to deny you both.

── .✦ Oikawa who insisted on taking you to volleyball meet-ups with old teammates or friends and bragging about your existence. Iwa who understood their friends could be overwhelming (Bokuto... Tanaka and Nishinoya, Lev...Tendo...)and always made sure you were included and comfortable.

── .✦ Oikawa who had a terrible inferiority complex, who worked so hard he hurt himself or burnt himself out. Who wanted to push himself to prove he could be the best. You and Iwa who would always make sure he paced himself, distracting him and deciding on impulsive walks to a store or something so he'd hopefully join you and maintain a healthy balance.

── .✦ Iwazumi who tended to have a short fuse, but you were always there to remind him to take deep breaths, count to 10. You always helped him regulate himself and made sure to research tips on managing frustration or anger.

── .✦ Everyone being convinced you all had separation anxiety because you were never really apart from one another. Everyone always calling you the dream couple, the popular couple on campus - meaning you struggled to do anything together on campus or in front of classmates because word travelled fast - privacy was a no go.

── .✦ Iwazumi who would hold your hand or arm while you were all sat together (library, home, park, wherever). Oikawa who would play with your hair, curling it around his fingers absent-mindedly, or mess with the hem of your jacket.

Description: Thrown into the heart of Tokyo's most competitive teaching hospital, foreign intern Y/N L/N is already fighting the odds—late on day one, underestimated for their size, and surrounded by prodigies who treat medicine like a battlefield. At Karasuno General, the rules are simple: survive the shift, save the patient, and don’t let the pressure break you.

With Chief Resident Daichi Sawamura breathing fire, Coach Ukai running the floor like a warzone, and rival doctors watching for any crack, Y/N must prove they’re more than a misfit in scrubs. This isn’t high school. This is life and death. And here, every heartbeat counts.

Warnings/Before we begin:

-I do not own Haikyuu or ER, both shows belong to the owners.

-This story is very mature, and filled with adult like content like blood, sex, surgery, mentions of sensitive topics like suicide, self harm, and many things that people see in a hospital, so please if your triggered, nauseas, anxious, or disgusted by any of the warnings and content listed above then please do not read. IF YOU ARE A KID PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS FANFIC.

-This is my first story in a long time I will be continuing and writing on my own. As I really worked hard on this story, so please out of the kindness of your heart, share this story with others as it will really mean so much to me. :-)

- Each week, I'll post a chapter on my days off from work, as my work schedule changed every so often so chapter posting dates will be different.

-A big thank you to people who are now just reading this or have been reading this story, your support means a lot and writing helps me coap with my depression and axiety, as I haven't written about Haikyuu in over 6 years, so I'm excited to see where this story will go!

-Anyways, I'll stop talking and ranting and enjoy the prologue of ER haikyuu edition!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tokyo doesn’t sleep.

It thrums—loud and alive, pulsing with a tempo that never slows, never falters. Neon signs flicker like arrhythmias in the dark, train stations beat with a thousand footsteps a minute, and somewhere beneath it all, hearts are breaking and healing in equal measure.

And towering in the center of it all is Karasuno General Hospital—sixteen floors of steel, glass, and impossible expectations.

Inside, the air is cold, clinical. The lights are too bright, the walls too white. Every hallway echoes with the staccato rhythm of urgency—heels against linoleum, stretchers wheeling past, codes being called out like battle cries.

This is not a hospital. It’s a pressure cooker.

And tonight, the lid comes off.

The lecture theater on the fourth floor isn’t much different. Unforgiving lights. Metal chairs lined in rigid rows. A podium scarred by years of sharp words and worn hands. It smells like antiseptic and tension.

Dozens of new interns sit straight-backed and wide-eyed, still soft around the edges. Some have been up since the night before. Some haven’t eaten in sixteen hours. All of them are trying not to look like they’re seconds from throwing up.

Karasuno’s cohort sits front and center.

Hinata Shouyou fidgets with the pen in his coat pocket like it’s a live wire. Kageyama Tobio stares down the projector screen like it personally insulted him. Tsukishima pretends he’s above it all, chewing gum with his eyes half-lidded, and Yamaguchi’s got that faint tremor in his hands that betrays just how hard he’s trying not to show fear. Nishinoya and Tanaka whisper across their notebooks, their bravado barely masking the anxiety beneath.

But it’s the three figures standing at the front that command all attention.

Daichi Sawamura, Chief Resident of Emergency Medicine, cuts a towering figure in crisp scrubs and steeled resolve. His presence is less about volume and more about gravity—like everything centers around him whether you want it to or not.

Koushi Sugawara, second-year attending, stands just behind him with a clipboard in one hand and a ghost of a smile on his face. He looks soft, gentle even—until you see his eyes. That’s where the fire lives.

And pacing in front of the screen like a lion in a cage, sipping black coffee from a mug that says "I perform miracles on caffeine and rage"—is Dr. Ukai Keishin, Resident Advisor, the youngest attending in Karasuno’s history.

He stops suddenly, turns on a heel, and addresses the room.

“You all think you know what’s coming.”

The silence in the room is absolute.

“You’ve watched your dramas. Read your textbooks. Maybe even convinced yourself this’ll be like a prolonged episode of Grey’s Anatomy where everyone’s sexy, overqualified, and emotionally constipated.”

A few people chuckle nervously.

Ukai’s eyes narrow.

“You’re wrong.”

Dead silence.

“You’re going to fail. You're going to freeze. You’re going to stand over someone bleeding out and realize you have no idea what the hell you’re doing—and no one to save you but yourself. This hospital doesn't give out participation trophies. It gives you two choices: learn fast, or get the hell out of the way.”

He takes another long sip of his coffee.

“This is not the time to cry or get your head stuck up your ass.”

That’s when the doors burst open.

Every head snaps toward the sound.

And there—framed by the harsh light of the corridor and the judgmental silence of fifty interns—is you.

Y/N L/N.

You’re late. You know it. Everyone else knows it. The world feels it.

Hair frizzed from humidity and nerves, coat slightly wrinkled from the sprint up the stairs. The standard-issue scrubs pull tighter over your body than they’re meant to—no one thought to order sizes past a certain point, of course—but you walk in anyway. Shoulders square. Chin up. Breathing like you just ran a marathon, but eyes clear.

You don’t apologize.

You never apologize for showing up.

Ukai doesn’t miss a beat.

“Miss L/N,” he growls. “You’re late.”

You nod once, steady. “Yes, sir. Traffic jam. A funeral procession. And a truck full of… fish, I think.”

A couple snorts break through the silence, but Ukai’s stare doesn’t waver.

“I assume the fish survived. You might not, if you pull that again.”

“Yes, sir.”

He gestures. “Sit.”

You make your way down the aisle, feeling every eye on you. You’re used to that. You’ve always taken up more space than the world thought you should—but never once less than you deserve.

You slide into the only open seat—next to Yamaguchi, who offers a small, nervous smile and nudges a spare pen toward you.

Ukai continues like you hadn’t just flipped the room upside down.

“You are the least experienced, most vulnerable people in this hospital. But the moment you put on that coat, you became part of this machine. And when the machine breaks, someone dies.”

He steps aside, and Daichi takes his place.

Daichi’s voice is quieter. Deeper. More weighted.

“You will see blood. You will see bodies. You will lose patients. And it will hurt. But if you're here to be praised or protected, you're in the wrong damn profession.”

His gaze sweeps over the room, then lands—just for a second—on you.

“There are people who will question if you belong. Because of your background. Because of how you look. Because you don’t match their idea of what a ‘real’ doctor should be.”

He lets that hang in the air.

“But you're here. You earned this.”

He straightens.

“And Karasuno doesn’t throw people away.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy. It’s electric.

Outside, a siren wails. Distant, but growing louder.

Ukai turns toward the sound like a soldier hearing the drums of war.

“Shift starts now.”

And with that, the room empties in a controlled panic of coats, clipboards, and adrenaline.

You stand with them, your heart hammering against your ribs.

You’re in a new country. In a hospital that wasn’t built for you. Surrounded by brilliance and pressure and people who already seem to be sprinting while you’re still tying your shoes.

But this is what you came for.

To heal. To fight. To prove something—not just to them, but to yourself.

You square your shoulders, adjust your coat, and walk toward the ER floor.

Where the lights are harsh. The blood is real. And the story’s just beginning.

The elevator ride down to the Emergency Wing was silent—until it wasn’t.

“Okay but what if I accidentally stab someone with the IV needle?” Hinata whispered, his voice high and panicked. “Like not on purpose—but my hands are gonna be shaking and—”

“You’re not stabbing anyone,” Kageyama muttered, glaring at the floor numbers like he could make them move faster.

“You don’t know that!” Hinata hissed.

Y/N stood quietly near the back of the elevator, arms crossed over your chest, pulse still hammering in your ears. You weren’t the only one radiating anxious energy, but being new to the entire country added a particular kind of dissonance. The signs above the emergency doors were in both Japanese and English, but the vibe? That was pure battlefield.

A shuffle beside you.

“Y/N, right?” Yamaguchi asked, offering you that gentle half-smile again. “I—I’m Tadashi. It’s cool you made it even with the… uh, fish truck?”

You couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Not my ideal first impression, but hey—at least I’m memorable?”

“Honestly,” Tanaka cut in from the front of the group, “late or not, that entrance had main character energy.”

“Agreed,” Nishinoya said with a grin. “Bet you’re gonna save someone’s life tonight and get a standing ovation.”

“Or pass out,” Tsukishima muttered. “Ten bucks on that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re betting on me passing out?”

“I’m not hoping for it. I’m just playing the odds.”

“Don’t mind him,” Yamaguchi murmured. “That’s just his way of being… helpful. Ish.”

The elevator doors finally opened with a ding that sounded way too cheerful for what lay beyond.

They spilled out onto the ER floor like students onto a battlefield.

It was chaos. Controlled chaos—but chaos all the same.

Gurneys flew past. A trauma team ran down the corridor in scrubs stained with something dark. Monitors beeped, machines hissed, and someone was screaming—maybe in pain, maybe in grief, maybe in frustration. Nurses moved with terrifying speed. Doctors barked orders with clipped precision. It smelled like bleach, blood, and burned coffee.

The Karasuno interns huddled tighter without even realizing it.

A clipboard smacked into Tanaka’s chest.

“Interns!” A nurse snapped, not even looking up. “Get the hell out of the walkway unless you wanna become a trauma case.”

They scattered like startled pigeons, pressing up against the wall as stretchers flew past.

“Jesus,” Hinata whispered.

“So…” Nishinoya rubbed the back of his neck. “Who do you think we’re gonna train under first?”

You caught your breath and tried to scan the floor for anyone you recognized. The seniors had told stories—legends, even—about the doctors who ruled Karasuno like gods.

“Maybe Dr. Sugawara?” Yamaguchi guessed. “I heard he does bedside training rotations.”

“Pray for that,” Tsukishima said dryly. “At least he’s calm. If we get Kuroo, we’re dead. He teaches like a drill sergeant.”

“Or Bokuto,” Tanaka added with a groan. “Apparently he makes you run through trauma simulations blindfolded.”

“I wouldn’t mind Oikawa,” Nishinoya said with a grin. “They say he’s a jerk, but he’s hot. Could be worse.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A hot jerk is still a jerk.”

“Fair.” He winked.

A voice called out down the hall.

“Karasuno Interns!”

It was Daichi, standing beside Ukai, both holding stacks of assignment folders. The look on their faces was unreadable. Deadpan. Dangerous.

Oh no.

“This is your assignment split,” Daichi said. “Pairs. One attending each. They’ve been told not to go easy on you.”

He handed out folders without ceremony.

Kageyama and Hinata – Trauma Team Alpha. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima – Infectious Disease. Tanaka and Nishinoya – Ortho Rotation. You…?

Your folder was heavier than the others.

Daichi handed out the last folder with a slower motion, his expression unreadable.

When you reached for it, his fingers didn’t let go right away.

“Y/N L/N,” he said, voice steady but low. “You’re assigned solo.”

Your heart paused in your chest. “Solo?”

Ukai stepped beside him, arms crossed. “Odd numbers this year. Someone had to be the unlucky one.”

You opened the folder.

ER / Musculoskeletal Trauma Rotation – Attending: Dr. Iwaizumi Hajime.

The name hit like a sucker punch.

There was a beat of silence—then a slow ripple of reaction from the others. Even Tsukishima’s face flickered with something like discomfort.

“Holy crap,” Tanaka murmured.

“Rest in peace,” Nishinoya whispered.

“I heard he made an intern cry before orientation,” Hinata said in awe.

“Wasn’t there that rumor he made someone quit med entirely?” Yamaguchi asked.

“Three people,” Kageyama corrected, flatly.

You glanced between them, trying to read between fact and fear. But the looks said enough.

Even Daichi seemed unsure how to soften the blow. “Dr. Iwaizumi’s… demanding.”

“That’s polite,” Ukai muttered. “He doesn’t tolerate mistakes. He doesn’t hold hands. He doesn’t explain things twice. You’re either sharp, or you’re gone.”

Your stomach coiled tight, but you forced a breath through it.

You’d survived med school in a system that never made room for bodies like yours. You’d studied under professors who forgot your name but remembered your weight. You’d worked twice as hard to get half as far. And you were still here.

You looked up, jaw tight but voice calm.

“I’ll manage.”

Daichi studied you a moment longer. Then he gave a small nod.

“I hope so. He’s in OR 2. Go.”