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seiwas · 2 months ago

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i've said this before but i'll never get tired of saying it again !!! this is truly one of my fave hajime fics to ever ever (maybe my most favourite one, really 🥺) i don't even know how many times i've reread this if i'm being honest 🥹

i'm a huge sucker for vignette/timestamp style writing because i love looking at snippets of a relationship over the course of a long period of time 🥹 and i think it's soooo creative that your title is 'over the course of 24 hours', ix, because it feels quick upon first glance but actually spans select hours over the course of years 🥺 a true slow burn -> established relationship timeline, which i adore too 🥺

there are a lot of reasons why i love this fic and a part of it is definitely that i resonate with certain parts of it quite a bit sdfbasdfg but apart from that, i truly, thoroughly enjoyed the progression of reader's relationship with hajime 🥺

i love that you spent time dedicating a few chapters for that friendship/in-between stage, because it allowed me as a reader to ease into their dynamic really smoothly. it set the pace up really well, and allowed me to get to know reader and hajime as individuals and friends, then eventually something more.

that little look they share in december 2011 | 06:51 when reader asks if he feels the change 🥺 it feels like the beginning of a shift in their dynamic 🥺 that shy look-away!! gosh!!! i have butterflies 🥺

You meet his gaze briefly, though the second that you do seems to last a lifetime.

then eventually shifting into intertwined fingers... like... hELLO?!?!?! (july 2012 | 20:35) those shy smiles and blushy cheeks oHHHH i'm falling to the floOR.

If anyone notices the way your fingers intertwine with his on the walk, no one says a thing.

i must also say that, texting eachother and waiting for the other to get home from a party is a love language on its own and i loooove how you included that in september 2012 | 01:02 because i am a SUCKER for moments like that. this entire scene is littered with signs that they're shifting into something more and i'm LIVING for it (the constant updates, the pictures with texts, reader's outfit, REACTION PICTURES) +++ hajime's anxiety too and how he jumps straight into being concerned for her 😭 (so him 😭) + their banter!!! oh MY GOD 'because you're a pushover?' PLEASE. i'm gonna push HIM over.

“Positive. Whatever you need.” Your small token of gratitude has managed to steal the breath from his lungs, managed to fill his heart, managed to wake him up. He starts to toy with the idea of properly asking you out when you mumble his name in your sleep.

i'm LOSING IT.

then reader shows up on his door after his loss (november 2012 | 23:53) and it's this!!! the acts of service of it all!!

Instead of resting, preparing for the finals, you’re here, wanting to console him. It makes him ache with yearning, ache with annoyance.

then he hugs reader 🥺 and i could cry 🥺

i also love how supportive they are of each other(january 2013 | 13:00). i think it's a recurring quality of their relationship despite all that life throws at them, but seeing it in its beginning stages, even before they officially get together is so sweet 🥺 hajime watching her semi-final through his phone, and how he thinks, 'you're so fucking obstinate', how he knows she'll endure the pain. the fact that he texts her immediately and tries to provide the closest comfort he can 🥺 AND!! 'my iwa-chan' oh my GOD. AND HE TEASES HER FOR IT TOO. i looooove that detail. loooove that they both know something's going on between them and can openly tease each other like this.

the fact that he was thinking of confessing during graduation is something sooo personal to me (lmao) because i relate so hard (😭) (march 2013 | 18:12). i resonate so well with the way you set up his thought process; it's something i adore about your writing too!! it's the 50/50 chance, the fact that there's both too little and too much time. i love how honest he is, how he's able to openly compliments her now, and she replies with:

“You’re more important.” The way that statement rolls off your tongue is astounding, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, as though those three words haven’t stopped his heart.

AND IT'S THE TWIST!! THE FACT THAT SHE'S GOING ABROAD TOO!! GOSH. oh my god i love how it kinda feels like things might be falling into place yknow?

then we get to the ldr part and that's when it honestly starts to hit a little too close to home (october 2013 | 16:20 (JST) 00:20 (PST)) 😭 different timezones can be so tough but seeing them still make an effort to call and talk is just 🥺 the tricky part about timezones is always the fact that someone will have to make a sacrifice, either staying up late or waking up early, or dropping plans in the middle of the day, being there while the other falls asleep on the other line 🥺 and WAAH it's so sweet!! how he's working all behind the scenes and waiting to drop the surprise to her 🥺. that 'my hajime' in the end killed me too 🥹

my jaw also dropped at the fact that we were in february 2014 | 07:41 and i juST REALISED THAT THEY WEREN'T TOGETHER TOGETHER YET 😭 omfg but i do love me a surprise visit. and this was sooo sweet. he's sooooo sickly in love oh my god. and he pulls her in and hugs her and reader nuzzles closer oHH my GOD i can't. this scene made me feel all sorts of butterflies 🥺 it's so nice seeing them grow closer physically too 🥺

But when he dreams of you, it’s of how you looked before you left. He wants to tell you that he’s missed you, that there’s not a fucking day that you don’t invade his thoughts. He wants to ask you to stay with him, to let him shower you with pent-up affection, to let him whisk you away to some secluded corner of the world for just the two of you, but he sticks with, “Stay with me this weekend?” “Shit. How am I ever going to match this for White Day?” “I don’t care. So long as I get to spend time with you now, I’m happy.” As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, he presses his lips to yours. For a moment, he’s certain that he’s crossed a boundary, certain that you’re going to turn around and go back to California. Then you pull him closer, returning his kiss with a satisfactory little hum.

when i tell you. i SCREAMED SDFBJSAD my GOD!!! he's so loverboy and truly in the trenches and i loOOVe this 😭

i love their banter together, how reader loves to tease him and how comfortable hajime is to exist in reader's space now (april 2014 | 19:10); that little tilt of reader's head to look up at him HAS me oh my god i love height differences. THEN he kisses her forehead?? mY GODDD.

i already mentioned this, but i felt all the ldr bits on a personal level, especially starting with june 2014 | 04:29. the fact that!! he flew in!! for his birthday!! and reader is waiting for him sleep-laden and everything!! and he calls her doll 🥺🥺 the affection in it all 🥺🥺 the discomfort from a longass plane ride gone just like that when he has her in his arms 🥺 ill cry

i also have an absolute favourite part in january 2015 | 00:00. the line is literally what plays on repeat when i remember this series:

“Even if we had the entire ocean between us tonight, that wouldn’t be your fate,” he admits softly. It’s the closest he’s ever gotten to saying it, though you have to know by now, right? You look almost shocked, pleasantly so, before you nuzzle your face in his neck.

as someone who isn't really verbally affectionate, words weigh a ton to me, so reading this and seeing that you chose to make reader careful with saying 'i love you' hits so deep 🥺 i love the layer that that adds to their relationship and how much depth it gives hajime's love.

april 2015 | 08:38 (JST) 16:38 (PST) is another ldr suckerpunch to the gut. life gets busy enough on its own and when you add ldr to the mix it's just 738573x harder. i've always believed that ldr is just a waiting game—from when you'll meet again, to when you'll can call again, talk again; waiting for the other to get home, to wake up, to be free. and it comes with a shit ton of sacrifice too!! and i love that you were able to capture that here. hajime skipping class to be able to talk to reader.

“Hajime,” you say as soon as the call goes through, hushed almost like a prayer. If it is a prayer, it’s one he’ll gladly answer again and again. “I miss you.”

it's the yearning!!! the feeling of wanting to reach out so bad and comfort but having to settle for hoping words are enough 🥹 truly . this makes my heart hurt every time.

and all that longing culminates in august 2015 | 03:46 !!! seeing how much their relationship has grown to reach this point 🥺 this was so hot and when he said 'pretty girl' . literally TOOK ME OUT lmao . AND HE SAYS THE WORDS!! PLAINLY. CLEARLY OUT ON THE OPEN.

“I meant it. It’s not just a sex thing,” he murmurs into your skin. Your fingers cease their movements and he hears the slight increase in your heartbeat, but you say nothing. Instead, you pull him up by his face and give him a kiss so sweet he wonders whether he’ll have a cavity when this is over. You don’t say it back, but he doesn’t need to hear it. Just you knowing how he feels will be enough.

the moment is so tender!! so raw!! so fragile and i'm 🥺🥺🥺

then comes the problem (february 2016 | 14:28). the fact that he came out to celebrate valentine's day with reader but it turns out like this. it sucks that he isn't approved of (literally perfect man in my eyes 😭) and it hurts!! but it's the fact that he's still thinking about what reader and how she's suffering too that gets to me 😭 it's so!!! just!! what a relationship, yknow? the fact that hajime considers her and how her decision of staying with him can make things incredibly hard for her; the fact that she doesn't care!! and is choosing to fight for him!! and in the end!! they choose each other!! oh my god literally could full on bawl my eyes out rn. it's love!!!!!!!!

and i love how you offer a glimpse of their life together in the aftermath of that (october 2016 | 05:50), how it feels all too surreal for hajime because the future he's been dreaming of now involves her 🥺 it's the gentleness!!! the tenderness!!! amidst all that they're going through 🥺 i can feel so much of his respect for reader and how seriously she's taking the relationship and her goals 🥺 there's so much service and understanding in the way he loves 🥺

i was so sure things would only be smooth sailing from now on, but i adore that you added more hiccups on the road!! because i think!! that's really how life is sometimes 🥺 and having them struggle through their relationship once more, even after getting through ldr, is such a real and natural occurrence in any relationship 🥺

He’s exhausted, thoroughly. Completely. He misses you more than when he was 8,800 kilometers away from you.

^ that line ached!! so i adore the fact that you bring back reader reaching out to him, just like she always has 🥺 asking him to meet her at the parking lot feels so much like asking him to meet her at the supply closet all those years ago 🥺 but this time she calls him handsome and carries with her food they can eat together 🥺

june 2018 | 21:27 (PST) 01:27 (ART) to november 2018 | 09:45 both hurt like crazy. i can't imagine how hajime must have felt, hearing her confide in oikawa instead of him 😭 and i love how you included an annoying girl in it too 😭 the fact that he said fiancee but reader introduced herself as gf 😭 (Not that he could blame you since he’s still working on building up the courage to propose. <- CRYING) and the annoying girl wouldn't stop 😭 and he tried EVERYTHING 😭 i can't believe she even had the balls to message reader 😭 and crash dates literally wtf 😭 ++++ hajime hiding correspondence with reader's mom 😭 i get it but also MAAN HE'S JUST IN IT RN 😭 and it's so sad bc i'm sure a part of him does truly accept that it's his fault. the fact that he hears her talk to oikawa about everything she's been too afraid to tell him must sting in an entirely different way, but i'm sure he gets it too 😭 and will do whatever makes reader feel better 😭

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, that you still don’t know Iwaizumi’s home.

this part is just so sad!! just imagining him by the door and falling asleep there 😭 i'll cry 😭

then he gets to call with oikawa and i love that he has his own ringtone 😭 and that oikawa's actually been helpful about it 😭

“The same as it was two days ago. Kinda shitty and on fire.” “Tsk. Always such a downer. Are you sure that it isn’t the absence of—” “Her absence is exactly why it’s shitty and you know that.”

looooooove the dialogue and also love how you positioned reader and hajime's dynamic here. he loves her with so much respect that he's giving her the space and time to approach him whenever she feels like she's ready, then you have oikawa here just exposing her like:

“Ah. Well. She misses you. She’s wrapped her pillow with one of your old Godzilla shirts.”

THEN WE REACH THE END (almost) (december 2018 | 02:13) and it makes my heart HURT. her parents finally said yes 🥲🥲🥲 and he still!! he still!! oh my god to be pursued like this for fucking real.

It came in the form of the hospital staff asking him to leave if he wasn’t immediate family—a request made by your mother—only for your father to brokenly tell them that Iwaizumi’s their future son-in-law. To make certain, he asked one final time, adopting dogeza in deference: “Please allow me to marry your daughter.” All he had wanted was to do right by you, by your parents, by his. While the two of you may not be sticklers for tradition, they are. And he wants for you to have a relationship with his family as much as he would like a… cordial relationship with yours.

WHAT A MAN!!!!! i get goosebumps every time i read it.

then when reader says his name oh my god for the first time in person in monTHS i can't even imagine that feeling. literally probably every way you described it as in the paragraph that followed.

it's the culmination of it all. LITERALLY BAWLING MY EYES OUT 🥲🥲🥲🥲 every damn time i've reread this 🥲🥲🥲🥲

“He loves you.” “I know,” you reply, voice a little softer than before. “Do you love him? I imagine you must, with everything you were prepared to sacrifice for him.” You’ve never said it aloud, not to him, anyway. He never needed to hear it, never needed it to know that you care, to know that he wants to be with you for however long you’ll have him by your side. All the same, his heart stills with your answer. “Yeah. I do.”

then we catch a little glimpse of a kind of epilogue 🥺 or maybe just the final chapter 🥺 and i am soooo emotional over this oh my god (august 2019 | 22:27) 🥺 the intimacy in all the gestures 🥺 hugging him from behind and him picking up her hands so he can press kisses on her fingertips 🥺 the kiss to the shoulder too!! (AND HE CALLS HER PRETTY GIRL AGAIN PLS I WILL DIEBSFBJB) (also LOVE the kuroo mention 😭 rooster hair PLS)

AND FUCKING THEN

“Yeah. It is. I, uh, there’s something that’s been on my mind,” he admits, taking the beer from you, steeling himself for what he’s about to do. You watch him with a soft expression, ready to listen to whatever comes out of his mouth. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me.”

literally sell K.O. most favourite haijme fic to ever ever ever ever.

hajime's and reader's characterisations

i love how you characterise hajime, and i think his whole confident but not too confident typa beat is captured so perfectly in your writing. the fact that he feels embarrassed and a bit shy from being stared at at the start (march 2011 | 20:24)!! just because he isn't used to the attention and has lived most of his life believing that he exists on the sidelines of one oikawa tooru.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki both point you out, suggesting that you’re one of Oikawa’s fangirls, trying to catch the setter when he’s free from female attention, but Iwaizumi knows better. You ignore Oikawa’s charm, ignore both Matsukawa and Hanamaki, ignore everyone who isn’t Iwaizumi.

is it weird to say that i love how you characterised the reader? i love that you gave reader the balls to hand over her number to him 😭 literally i think it fits well w how he is and how he handles feelings, because otherwise, idt anything would have happened 😭 i also love the idea of reader being part of her own volleyball team!!! it makes me feel so warm seeing them support each other, with hajime trying to catch her games and them even managing to do a practice match together (may 2012 | 12:16) !! being able to inspire eachother in a common sport is such a special connection i think (that eye contact on the court omg!!) reader is everything i wish i could be and more because i wish i could have the courage to tell hajime he's my lucky charm fr 🤧 + that confrontation in the storage room oh my god (july 2012 | 20:35).

and don't even get me started on his devotion and commitment. i think even simple acts like memorising reader's number before the next match already sets the tone for the kind of person he is (and i'm obsessed!! in case it isn't obvious yet). he's whipped!!!!! and he's trying so hard to hide it!!!! and i think that's the most hajime thing in the world really (june 2011 | 17:43)

it is also such a hajime thing to feel like he takes responsibility and hermits himself because of it, and i love how you showed that in july 2012 | 20:35, where he avoids reader because of their loss against shiratorizawa. and he feels jealous at the fact that reader's kept in touch with the other guys but not him (and it's all his fault!! he knows!!)

The smile you offer is infectious, so much that he can’t help but wonder whether that’s the reason the ramen is better than it usually is.

in november 2012 | 23:53, it could be so like him to isolate himself again 🥺 so it was so nice seeing reader cut the chance of that ever happening like before !!!! and they just show up at his door with his favourite food too and 🥺🥺🥺 i could cry thinking about this.

it is also such a hajime thing to think about timezones and missing opportunities to call with reader. i think he's so intentional with what he does that way, always so concerned and always considerate (october 2013 | 16:20 (JST) 00:20 (PST) - also love how you put both time zones in this one!) and!!! it is also such a hajime thing to keep things mum until plans go into action 🥺 it's the part of him that always wants things to be sure i think 🥺

the fact that he's thinking about a life with reader in april 2014 | 19:10 is, again, so telling of how seriously he takes commitment, i think. and i adore that you capture that so well ix 🥺 (i'm writing this from the perspective of hindsight, but the fact that he was this sure this early on before he actually proposed is just 🥺🥺🥺)

Warmth spreads throughout him at your words, at the domesticity of it all, at the thought that he could do this with you for the rest of his life, at the knowledge that it’s something he wants.

and another thing!! that i love about him!! is his honesty and sincerity!! in january 2015 | 00:00, hajime tells reader that he loves her, and she doesn't say it back yet. but that's okay with him.

He knows how he feels, knows that you’re worth waiting for, worth fighting for. Even if you don’t know how you feel just yet, he can wait. All that matters is that he gets to share any part of his life with you, he gets to be a source of happiness for you.

it shows what kind of love he has and how sincere it is that he's willing to wait even without hearing it back yet, that he just needs to let her know even if she doesn't know how she feels herself. where!!! will you ever find!! someone as understanding as he!!!

i also love that you show how much of a caretaker he is!! (acts of service king indeed...) when reader gets sick in september 2017 | 15:39, i love that you make him endure the heat, that he holds her despite how uncomfortable it is because there's no way he's leaving her to deal with it on her own (just like he promised!!!). he even hums songs to get her to sleep!! (godzilla too 😭) AND!! perhaps!! the thing i can respect him the most for, is when he chooses her over the urgency of her mother's email. even though he must have been itching to see what it was!! to make an effort to prove himself!! he chose to prioritise her 🥺 the fact that he turned dnd on his phone too 🥺 UUUGH

another thing i love about how you characterised hajime is the fact that he respects tradition enough to still want to have a good relationship with reader's parents, even though reader herself doesn't see much point in it. (june 2018 | 21:27 (PST) 01:27 (ART)) how he even increased communication with her mom and how he's determined to get her father's blessing again (again???!). sure it must've been wrong for him to hide the correspondence from reader but to a degree, i get him 🥺 and just!! he's trying 🥺

and of course!! the fact that he remains steadfast, especially to his promise (november 2018 | 09:45)

He has no intention of returning alone. He’ll fight tooth and nail for you, for this relationship. Even if you two are… in a tough place, right now, he’s not going anywhere.

which he gets to fulfill later on, in the end 🥺 when he proposes 🥺 which is. just as sweet as it is simple. and i love that he proposed that way 🥺 it's such a him thing, i think. no extravagance, but full sincerity 🥺 full honesty 🥺 i am so 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

++ dynamics with other characters

apart from all of this, i really loved reader and oikawa's relationship too 🥺 love that hajime sides with reader 🥺🥺 love that reader also loves to mess with oikawa 🥺 i truly believe that iwaoi is a package deal 😭 and that being with either of them almost immediately means signing up for the other in some way, shape, or form 🥺 the fact that reader gets along with him so well just adds on to the feeling that she fits in so well into hajime's life 🥺 'get our man in check' in april 2014 | 19:10 is sooo him and i love the idea that hajime is shared property sdfsdk.

i also love that despite all his goofiness, oikawa continues to be a source of support for the both of them 🥺 i love that they're both able to confide in him, and that he takes good care of reader when hajime knows he isn't in the position to 🥺 there's so much trust there!! and i just!! adore it 🥺

to close this very long and winded ramble,

thank you so much for writing this ix!! literally my favourite hajime fic that i consistently go back to time and time again 🥺 something about this just keeps it anchored in my heart, and whether it's the story itself, the relatability of it all, or the characterisations and dynamics, i know it's all because of you and the way you so artfully pieced everything together in your writing 🥺

AO3 | Fic Page | NSFT 18+ | Playlist (🎵)

I do not authorize the translation or reposting of my work anywhere. Do not mention me or my work on Tik-Tok.

Relationship: Iwaizumi Hajime x F!Reader Rating: Explicit 18+ (timestamp 16) Content Warnings: POV Iwaizumi Hajime, Slice of Life, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Long-Distance Relationship, Miscommunication, Friends to Lovers, Oikawa is a good friend, Reader is at least 2 inches shorter than Iwa, Iwa goes to California for Grad work Summary: It takes you 24 hours to fall in love and he's certain he can wait until you do. Word Count: 10,000 Tagging: @izzabeean

A/N: I'm re-posting the first Haikyuu!! fic I completed prior to my release of two additional pieces for upcoming collabs 🙃 I had planned on releasing this chapter by chapter, but I want this to pre-date my first collab piece (tomorrow) and Tumblr has a vendetta against me in the tags.

This takes place between 2011-2019. This contains manga spoilers for Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and [briefly] Kuroo.

March 2011 | 10:24

➸ The gymnasium is loud with cheers for Seijoh after their match against Ogi Nishi. Oikawa waves to his adoring fangirls, vying for his attention from the spectator’s seats. Just as Iwaizumi is about to hit Oikawa, prevent his head from getting any bigger, he catches sight of you.

You’re staring with mild intrigue, not at Oikawa, but at Iwaizumi. He feels his face heat up at the attention, unused to receiving any when Oikawa’s around. You smile before Seijoh clears the court for the following team. He shakes it off, figuring he’s never going to see you again, not when the following team is Shiratorizawa, not when there are other people to look at.

But he’s wrong. As they make their way to watch their next opponent, waiting for the next match, you approach. Matsukawa and Hanamaki both point you out, suggesting that you’re one of Oikawa’s fangirls, trying to catch the setter when he’s free from female attention, but Iwaizumi knows better.

You ignore Oikawa’s charm, ignore both Matsukawa and Hanamaki, ignore everyone who isn’t Iwaizumi. Pulling out a notebook, you scribble your number and your name before tearing out that page, folding it in half, and passing it to Iwaizumi.

“Good luck,” you wish him as you leave them, walking towards your team, who are waiting for you just around the corner.

He looks over that folded piece of paper so much that he has your number memorized before the next match starts.

June 2011 | 17:43

➸ “Iwaizumi! You’re supposed to let me pay this time!” you whine as he holds your wallet out of reach before paying for the ramen.

He laughs, grateful that the other second-years weren’t able to make it to the restaurant, even if you two will be joining them afterward. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

The two of you sit at your table and he’s struck by the way that the sun perfectly illuminates you, accentuating the contours of your face. There’s laughter in your eyes and your smile is absolutely carefree, pleased to be in his presence.

He’s tried pushing it down, the light fluttering in his chest when you look at him like that, when you text him after school, when you tease, joke, and brighten the world around you.

Despite the fact that both of you have full schedules, you always manage to find an hour here or there to spend with friends. It’s exceptional, the way you fit into his life as though you had always been there.

“Are you ready for the prelims?” you ask, licking your lips at the sight of the food before you.

“As ready as we’re going to be,” he admits. “And you?”

“We’re gonna win! One game at a time, ya know?” The smile you offer is infectious, so much that he can’t help but wonder whether that’s the reason the ramen is better than it usually is.

He isn’t expecting it when you say, “I have faith that you guys will win and move forward! I just hope I get to watch.” It’s small, inconsequential, but that doesn’t stop the blush from forming, the shared hope that you’ll be there to watch, and that he can watch you in return.

December 2011 | 06:51

➸ A soft yawn escapes you before you lean on him, resting your head on his shoulder. Oikawa, wrapped in a thick blanket in addition to his winter coat, walks up behind you two, taking his place on Iwaizumi’s left side.

“You don’t get to yawn,” Oikawa chastizes you, voice thick with sleep and a hint of playfulness. “This was your idea in the first place.”

“Maybe so, but you agreed to come along,” you lilt, leaning forward to get a better look at Oikawa. He sticks his tongue out in response, narrowly dodging Iwaizumi’s fist.

“No fair, Iwa-chan! You’re nicer to her than you are to me!”

“I thought we came here to watch the last sunrise of the year, not to waste time bickering,” Iwaizumi complains, though he doesn’t mind the light squabble.

“We did, Iwa-chan,” you say through your yawn. “Can’t you feel it? The change?”

He turns to look at you, noticing the hope that bubbles beneath the warmth of your eyes. You meet his gaze briefly, though the second that you do seems to last a lifetime. There’s something about you that makes him feel achingly alive. Something he wants to explore, something he wants to cherish.

Your fingers graze his hand, sending a jolt of electricity through him, one that’s exacerbated by the shy manner in which you look away, almost embarrassed by such familiarity. Cute. Almost as though you haven’t made time for him at least three times a month since you slipped your number into his hand, as though you haven’t brightened his days with a simple text.

“This year is gonna be great,” you whisper. “Even for you, Crappykawa. We’re all gonna work hard and we’re gonna make it to Tokyo.”

Oikawa whines at your use of Iwaizumi’s nickname, whines at the chuckle that ripples through his friend. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“Mean to you? I just told you that you’re gonna make it to nationals this year!”

“Did you have to call me crappy, though?”

You don’t answer, attention pulled to the sky before you. That cold winter grey is overpowered by the sun, bringing light hues of blues, pinks, and purples into view. He feels it—the change that you asked about. He wonders whether that’s the only change that 2012 promises.

May 2012 | 12:16

➸ It's a miracle, really, with the compact schedules of both the Aoba Johsai girl’s volleyball club and your volleyball club that you were able to schedule a practice match.

While he hasn’t been able to properly watch one of your matches like you have his, he’s managed to grab recordings, praising you for your technique, your cunning on the court. This? This is something else.

“Is she even real?” Hanamaki asks after you made a ridiculous set to the MB after your setter got first touch.

“That is rather impressive,” Oikawa comments, leaning over the banister in an attempt to get a better look. “I wouldn’t have expected it from her.”

You’re moving better than you usually do, making the most of your position as opposite hitter—easily filling the space left by your libero in their absence while making yourself available to your setter when needed.

Seijoh’s coach calls for time and your eyes immediately find his, telling him that you’ve been completely aware of his presence. Your grin is wide and mischievous, dropping only when you turn your attention back to your team.

“We aren’t looking good here, guys,” Hanamaki remarks, pointing at the scoreboard. It’s true—you’re currently wiping the floor with Seijoh—but he’s aware, more than any of the others, of how much time you’ve put in with your team.

His phone chimes and he’s lightweight surprised to see your name next to the text claiming he’s your good luck charm, requesting that he stays till the end of practice if possible.

It’s easy to comply, easy to give you what you want. Not even an hour later, he meets you at the entrance to the gym.

You have that post-win glow and excess energy that makes him think you could keep going for another three hours. He sees it in you—that promise you had made at the start of the year, that drive to make it to nationals. He hopes you see it in him, too. They’re going to Tokyo in January. You will, too.

When he asks why you wanted him to stop by—not yet acknowledging that he’s late to his own practice—you respond with a soft smile.

“I just like seeing you. You’re my good luck charm, after all. I’ll bring by some fruit after I’ve had a chance to clean off, okay?”

He plays better during practice and he thinks that, maybe, you’re his good luck charm, too.

July 2012 | 20:35

➸ They should be going home but they can’t. Not yet. Ever since their most recent defeat at the hands of Shiratorizawa, they’ve been training harder, pushing themselves further, determined to do better in October.

He knows that he should temper this side of the team, that he should do more to get them to rest, to avoid overexerting themselves, but the sting of defeat—even a month later—hasn’t left them.

For whatever reason, he’s felt ashamed to admit defeat to you, though you were there and you know. Your game was held at the same time as his, except you won. It’s the first game of his that you were unable to watch, the first time that you weren’t there in the audience. Since then, he’s struggled with talking to you.

“Oi! What the hell, guys?” you call from the entrance, startling the third and second years still there. “Makki! You said practice ended an hour ago!”

He doesn’t like the feeling that rises in his chest at the knowledge that you’ve still been texting his friends, doesn’t like the idea that they’re keeping in contact with you when he’s failed to do so. He especially doesn’t like the cheery way that Crappykawa calls out to you with a sickly sweet nickname that doesn’t elicit a negative reaction from you.

“Come on, guys. I was going to take you out for Tōru-chan’s birthday!” Your pout is fake and you don’t hesitate to start helping put everything away, even if this isn’t your gym and isn’t your practice. Just for tonight, it’s like they have a manager.

It only makes his guilt worse and you do nothing to ease it as you approach him in the storage closet.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s not an accusation, not an angry confrontation for such a slight like he’s sometimes seen with Oikawa’s fangirls. It’s a statement. The truth. At least he doesn’t deny it. When you ask why he tells you. “Iwa-chan. I think no less of you for the results of that match.”

When he doesn’t look at you, you grab his hand, demanding his attention. “Please come back. I miss you.”

After the gym is cleaned and the second-years are booted, you leave with the third-years to the restaurant you had in mind. If anyone notices the way your fingers intertwine with his on the walk, no one says a thing. And each time he risks a glance your way, he sees the shy smile that graces your lips, sees the slight discoloration of your cheeks.

It’s then he realizes just how deep he is.

September 2012 | 01:02

➸ You’ve been texting him nonstop, miserable during your friend’s birthday celebration. Some event in Tokyo that’s fine with 18-year olds, something that has your friends dancing, disappearing into the crowd if you take your eyes off them for too long.

He’s stayed up the entire time, worry eating at him despite your constant updates. You send pictures to accompany the texts, showing off your outfit, the venue, the city. In the ones that feature you, there’s often an edge to your smile, the sparkle in your eye absent. The reaction shots you send him are genuine, featuring a smile that he wants to think is just for him.

The last time you had texted him, however, was almost twenty minutes ago. His anxiety is through the roof, interrupted by a phone call.

“Iwa-chan?” your voice is broken, small. He immediately goes to worse-case-scenario, thinking that you’ve been attacked, that you’re hurt and six hours away.

“Iwa-chan? Are you there?”

“I’m here. Are you okay?”

The event is loud, still raging in the background, even at this time. It’s hard to tell if you’re sniffling or if he’s imagining things, projecting his fears on you.

“Ah… I’m fine, physically. Just… a little emotionally exhausted. I’m heading back to the hotel by myself right now and I just really want to hear your voice.”

“What’s going on? Where are your friends?”

“They’re still out. I have the keys, but I’m not trying to stay out with vomit on my pants.”

“I’m sorry—what?”

“Yeah. I went to the bathroom and some girl was sobbing and obviously drunk. When I tried to slip past her, she blew chunks. All over my leg.”

“That… sounds awful,” he says, a relieved chuckle leaving him.

“It is.” He can almost hear your pout, almost see the way it’s set on your lips. “Agh. Remind me why I agreed to come out with them?”

“Because you’re a pushover?”

“Hey! I am not! I’m just nicer to my friends than you are yours!”

“I’m nice to you, aren’t I?” Though that may be unrelated.

“Tch. I guess.”

“You guess?” he teases. “I could hang up and let you walk back to the hotel by yourself.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he agrees with a chuckle. “How’s the city otherwise?”

“It’s… nice. Busy. Maybe if the circumstances were different, I’d enjoy it more.”

“Don’t you visit each summer for that training camp?”

“Ah, not really. It’s the suburbs, not the city. The weather’s a little nicer, but I might as well still be in Miyagi if not for the better teams.”

The sound of the city disappears, indicating that you must be inside the hotel. He hears the soft chime of the elevator and assumes that you’re keeping silent to avoid your voice carrying.

“I’m here,” you confirm. “Do you… never mind.”

“No. What is it?”

You sigh, sounding unsure, but relent. “I was going to ask if you would mind allowing me to shower before I called you back. But it’s late. You should be asleep.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Whatever you need.”

You’re silent, appreciating his words, before giving him a heartfelt, “Thank you, Hajime.” Your small token of gratitude has managed to steal the breath from his lungs, managed to fill his heart, managed to wake him up. Ten minutes later, you call again, talking about everything and nothing until you fall asleep on him.

He starts to toy with the idea of properly asking you out when you mumble his name in your sleep.

November 2012 | 23:53

➸ It’s a text just before midnight, the small plea for him to come outside, knowing that he’s still awake.

He had only recently returned home, staying out with the third-years in an attempt to finish on a high note, though the bitter truth came crashing down nonetheless. Just as before, he’s hesitant to show this side to you, worried about what you would think of him.

Your team won today. You’re moving to the next round, facing off against an incredibly tough opponent. All the same, his feet carry him to the front door, hand turning the knob without conscious thought.

In your hands is a thick, insulated bag, protecting its contents from the cold. Your expression is hopeful, albeit solemn. Instead of resting, preparing for the finals, you’re here, wanting to console him. It makes him ache with yearning, ache with annoyance.

Are you here because you pity him? Because he lost, unable to make that last spike count? Are you here because you want to celebrate your win? And what the hell are you doing here anyway? You have a responsibility to your team and you’re here instead.

“I brought you agedashi tofu. I, uh, I made it myself. I’m not the greatest cook, but I think it should be good. If you don’t like it, I could take you out to a proper restaurant or you could disown me. Whatever works best for you,” you ramble, anxiety coloring your words.

That’s all it takes for all of his frustrations and grievances of the day to wash away, for him to push aside all negativity and appreciate what you’ve done. That’s all it takes for the reality of the day, of their loss, of your presence here, of his feelings for you to hit him with the force of a train.

A small gasp escapes you as he wraps his arms around you, surprised at the blatant expression of affection initiated by him, surprised that he had closed the distance so quickly.

“Thank you.” It comes out in a whisper, almost like a reverent prayer of gratitude mumbled into your hair.

“Always, Hajime.”

January 2013 | 13:00

➸ The last text you were able to send was three hours ago. He’s watching the semi-finals on his phone, noting every receive, every serve, every spike, every set. Pride fills his chest as he watches you and your team move as one, almost as though he's watching the push and pull of the waves.

The other team is tough, one that makes it to nationals regularly, but you guys are putting up a good fight. The captain of the opposing team tries to get an off-the-partial block, taking advantage of the fact that your libero isn’t on the court. You leap, ensuring that her play doesn’t go unanswered.

Your receive connects, sending the ball back to your setter who’s able to pull off a quick attack. It's clear when your ankle rolls, when you stumble, that you've most likely sprained the joint.

His heart stutters as you try to push yourself up, try to ignore the injury, try to continue playing. Of course, you would. You’re so fucking obstinate, so fucking devoted to your team that there isn’t a part of you that you wouldn’t sacrifice for them, for the chance to play again.

Your coach subs you out, making certain to have your manager escort you to receive medical attention. As soon as the cameras are off of you, as soon as you’re out of sight, he minimizes the video and shoots you a text.

It’s not the comfort he wishes he could provide, but it’s the best he can do from well over 300 kilometers away.

It’s another twenty minutes until you respond with a phone call. There’s pain in your voice and he isn’t entirely certain whether it’s your ankle or the narrow loss of the match. Either way, he listens, only interrupting when your comments turn critical of your performance, reminding you that you did everything you could.

He tells you everything he needed to hear when he lost months ago, commending you for making it to Tokyo, promising to take you out for ramen when you return.

Before you end the call and return to your team, he overhears one of your teammates ask who you’re on the phone with.

“Go away, Nomi! ... I'll be right there! ... It’s my Iwa-chan, not that it’s any of your business! ... Yeah, yeah, tell coach that I'm coming.”

The hint of possessiveness in your tone as you declare him your Iwa brings an involuntary smile to your face that's impossible to remove.

“Your Iwa-chan?” he teases lightly, wanting to hear it again.

“Shut up, Hajime,” you bite back, clearly flustered. “I’ll text you when I’m back in Sendai, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

March 2013 | 18:12

Maybe he’s being selfish, telling you now, or perhaps it’s cowardice.

Waiting until graduation to make a move? It’s not much time until you’re both away at university—something the two of you have surprisingly not talked about—and he isn’t certain whether he’s on the cusp of telling you because it gives him an out if you reject him or if it’s a guarantee that you’re his despite the distance. Not to mention his plans for potentially studying abroad like Oikawa, potentially leaving you here. Even if that’s a couple of years away and he doesn’t know your answer yet, that’s still simultaneously not enough and too much time. It honestly depends on your answer.

There’s something between you two, that much is undeniable, but he’s concerned that he’s waited too long. It’s been two years since you passed him your number, two years since you made the first move. But things are… different, right?

He’s important to you—one of the first people you call when you are in a bind, when you have good news to share, when you just want to talk. You’re attentive enough to offer comfort if he needs it, picking up on the most minute details that indicate something’s amiss. He never really thought that he needed something like that until you came along.

“Hajime?”

Turning, he finds you approaching from behind. Your hair is carefully done and you’re dressed to the nines, clearly meant to be somewhere else right now. It’s immediate—he feels as though you belong to a completely different world, one out of his reach. But your smile is warm, inviting, something that you give to him and him alone.

“You look nice,” he blurts out, flustering you both. “Are—do you have someplace to be right now?”

“Ah, technically,” you say, waving away the concern of your evening itinerary. “You’re more important.” The way that statement rolls off your tongue is astounding, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, as though those three words haven’t stopped his heart.

“I, uh—” Shit. Of all the times when his brain could have short-circuited, why now? “I had something I wanted to tell you.”

His heart is pounding in his chest and concern flashes across your face, picking up on his nervousness.

“Hajime—” The ringing of your phone cuts you off and he encourages you to answer it, encourages you to give him a moment to collect his thoughts. “Mom? … I’ll be there soon, I promise. … Wait. What? … Are you serious? I did?! … I, ah, yeah! I’ll be there soon. I’m visiting with — yeah. Thank you!”

The exuberance that rolls off of you is infectious as you turn to him, eyes bright and full of pure, unadulterated joy. Until they aren’t.

“What’s wrong?”

“I—I received my acceptance letter.”

“That’s great! Where are you going?”

“California. I got accepted to an accelerated academic program offered by UCLA. I’ll be leaving in three weeks.”

Just like that, everything changes.

October 2013 | 16:20 (JST) 00:20 (PST)

➸ He’s running late—really late. He should have called you two hours ago but he got caught in a meeting with his academic advisor regarding his plans for UC Irvine. It’s well past midnight in California, but your hours have been all over the place with your academic schedule.

Shooting you a text, he hopes you’re asleep, hopes that you’re taking care of yourself. That doesn’t stop the wave of relief from flooding his being when you text back, telling him to call you.

“Hajiiii~” you whine as soon as the call goes through. “If I have to write one more essay on Machiavelli, I might die.”

“Machiavelli? Why do you have to study political theory if you’re pre-med?”

“Stupid UCLA and their degree requirements.” Your pout is apparent, even from over 8,800 kilometers away. He hears the exhaustion and exasperation in your tone, but he hears the happiness, too.

“Well, you’re smart enough that I’m sure you’ll be done soon.”

“Thanks, Haji,” you chirp.

“You wanna tell me what you’re still doing up? It’s midnight, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I miss hearing your voice.” It’s a small admission, one that doesn’t fail to make him smile. “Oh! And I was able to get in contact with Utsui’s assistant. I know you look up to him.”

“Really? That’s so cool! Wait—why were you reaching out?”

“There’s a physical therapy course that he’s offering in the winter and I need instructor permission before my advisor will agree to me taking a course from another UC. I really hope I get the chance to work with him while I'm here.”

He still hasn’t told you that he plans on going to Irvine to study under Utsui, that he’ll be joining you in Southern California. Honestly? He wants it to be a surprise. He listens to you tell him about your day, talking about everything and nothing, stays on the phone with you until he hears nothing but soft snores.

Before he discontinues the call, he hears you mumble, "My Hajime."

February 2014 | 07:41

➸ Steady knocking interrupts him as he prepares for the day, making him wonder whether he had plans that had gone forgotten. Pulling open the door, he’s surprised to see you.

His first thought is that he hasn’t woken up—he must still be asleep. But when he dreams of you, it’s of how you looked before you left. Your hair is different and you’re a little taller than you were when you left, but your smile is the same, one that you wear just for him.

“Hiya,” you trill, lifting your arms, revealing a box with his name etched on its top. “I’ve been working on perfecting this recipe for the last couple of months, so I hope you like them. If not, well, I’m in Japan until Saturday night.”

Without thinking, he pulls you into a tight embrace, all too eager to surround himself with nothing but you. Your arms wrap around him before you nuzzle into his neck, bringing him impossibly closer.

“I missed you,” you whisper. “I missed you so much.”

He wants to tell you that he’s missed you, that there’s not a fucking day that you don’t invade his thoughts. He wants to ask you to stay with him, to let him shower you with pent-up affection, to let him whisk you away to some secluded corner of the world for just the two of you, but he sticks with, “Stay with me this weekend?”

“As long as you want,” you promise.

“Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs. “Shit. How am I ever going to match this for White Day?”

“I don’t care. So long as I get to spend time with you now, I’m happy.” As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, he presses his lips to yours. For a moment, he’s certain that he’s crossed a boundary, certain that you’re going to turn around and go back to California. Then you pull him closer, returning his kiss with a satisfactory little hum.

If he wasn’t in deep before—and he was—then he has gotta be at the bottom of the fucking Mariana Trench at this point.

April 2014 | 19:10

➸ “Hajime?” you ask as soon as he enters your apartment. The aroma of your favorite taqueria fills the small space while you rummage through the kitchenette. “You wanna tell me why Oikawa texted me to, and I quote, ‘Get our man in check?’”

Iwaizumi laughs, knowing exactly what sparked this reaction in Oikawa.

“I didn’t realize that when I agreed to date you that you were already in a relationship,” you tease as you finish setting the table.

“Shut up,” he replies with a chuckle, making his way through the apartment as though it’s his.

“Make me.”

Your smile turns mischievous as he approaches you like a predator hunting its prey. Standing before you, the difference in height is exaggerated as you tilt your head up, maintaining eye contact.

His hand comes to cup your jaw before he leans in, kiss leaving you breathless, grasping at his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

You pull back slightly, adoration visible in your eyes. “So? Are you going to tell me what you did to warrant an angry text from Oikawa?”

“OH! Yeah, you’ll never guess who I ran into today!”

“You… ran into someone? From Miyagi?!” you ask incredulously.

“Not just someone. Ushiwaka.” He laughs at your startled expression, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Yeah! His dad is Utsui Takashi. We actually talked after I got the chance to meet him. Before we parted, I took a picture with him and sent it to Oikawa to rub it in.”

“Well… shit.” You glance around the apartment as his words sink in, only for your eyes to settle on the food that’s still waiting. “Oh. Why don’t you go get comfortable and tell me about your day after we eat? I can’t wait to hear all about your day!”

Warmth spreads throughout him at your words, at the domesticity of it all, at the thought that he could do this with you for the rest of his life, at the knowledge that it’s something he wants.

June 2014 | 04:29

➸ After ten hours, he’s here. His muscles are stiff from having been seated for so long but seeing you waiting for him beyond security makes his heart leap, gives him a small boost of energy. You’re rubbing the sleep from your eyes, waiting patiently with a pleased smile.

As soon as he’s past the threshold, you reach for his duffle and he swats your hands away.

“Hajime,” you pout, “let me carry something!”

“Not a chance, doll.” He’s tired enough that he doesn’t think about it when you pull on his free arm, draping it around your shoulders while pulling him close, being far more affectionate than the two of you would be at the Sendai airport.

“What do you have planned for us?” he asks as you direct him out of the air-conditioned building, the cool, humid air stagnant in the parking structure.

A hum builds in your chest as you consider his schedule for this trip. “Let’s get some sleep first, then I’ll take you out to eat, yeah?”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart.” You curl into him, bringing yourself as close as you can before you two approach your car.

“I wouldn’t say that just yet, not until you see what else I have in store for you, birthday boy.” Stretching, you press your lips to his cheek and pull away to open the trunk of the car.

Honestly, he could give two shits about receiving anything else, about doing anything more for his birthday. Being here with you is enough. He’s so close to achieving his goals and you’re right here with him for it all. There isn’t anything more he could ask for.

January 2015 | 00:00

➸ New Years’ in California is much warmer than he’s used to, but it’s better than not seeing you at all for end-of-year celebrations. While the two of you participated in typical Japanese traditions, there’s one western tradition that you wanted to do with him.

The entire city seems to be alight with energy and the countdown to midnight seems to echo throughout. You’re standing on the balcony with Iwaizumi, looking out to the city while the television inside calls it out.

Just before the countdown reaches zero, you turn to face him, only to find that his eyes are already on you. How could they not be when you’re the most beautiful being around?

You kiss him, pulling him close and allowing for him to get drunk on you—the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips, the taste of you on his lips, your scent that overwhelms him, clouds his mind, clearing any coherent thought that is not you.

His hold on you tightens, not ready to let go—not that he’s ever going to be ready to let you go—and you melt in his touch. He rests his forehead against yours, the giddy smile on his face refusing to go away. Then again, you’re in the same boat.

“Apparently, it’s said that if you don’t get a kiss at midnight, you’ll be alone and without love for the remainder of the year,” you whisper conspiratorily.

April 2015 | 08:38 (JST) 16:38 (PST)

➸ Three months of hits and misses with you are really starting to wear thin.

It shouldn’t. He knows that it shouldn’t. He knows that you’re finishing up your accelerated undergrad program. He’s stepped up his own academic schedule to return to California sooner.

He knows better than anyone how insanely busy that makes a person, and you’re doing more than he is.

But he misses you more than he’s expressed—and he’s expressed a lot. He didn’t realize how much of a constant in his life you had become, not until he couldn’t talk to you like he used to, not until the sixteen-hour time difference really started to get to you both.

Even with all of that, it’s frustrating considering that he can still touch base with Oikawa more often. It’s frustrating that he’s an ocean away.

All that being said, his promise from New Year’s still rings true. His love for you hasn’t wavered, hasn’t changed in the least. It’s just… frustrating not being able to touch you, hardly being able to talk to you.

So the second his phone starts to ring, he decides he can skip this class.

“Hajime,” you say as soon as the call goes through, hushed almost like a prayer. If it is a prayer, it’s one he’ll gladly answer again and again. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, doll. More than you can imagine.”

“I dunno—I can imagine a lot,” you laugh lightly, but he can still tell your smile doesn’t quite hit the same.

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“You mean outside of me missing you terribly? No. I’m just exhausted. I met with my academic advisor a half hour ago.”

“How'd it go?”

“Next quarter will be the last of my undergrad. I have to take the MCAT in June, but I’m on track to start my medical degree this autumn. Then four more years till I can come back home.” There’s something in your voice, some small insecurity, some small fracture that pains him.

“Is everything okay?”

“I—yeah. No. I don’t know.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Ask for anything, please, and he’ll give it.

“Stay on the phone with me?”

“Of course.”

August 2015 | 03:46

➸ He can’t get enough of you—not like this. It’s been eight fucking months since he’s been able to hold you, since he's been able to touch you. You’re here now and he can’t keep his hands to himself.

Your nails dig into the taut muscle of his shoulders, desperate to pull him closer, eagerly attaching your lips to the column of his throat when he gives you what you want, teeth grazing over his pulse point. The soft expletives that leave his mouth seem to spurn you on, seem to increase your hunger for him.

He loves you like this—open and exposed, something just for him. No one else gets to see you like this, gets to experience you like this. This is for him and him alone and he’ll revel in every second you grant him.

Capturing your lips with his, the kiss is messy, frenzied as he works his hand between you both. He swallows your moan, fingers circling your swollen clit, causing you to clench around him. You break away from the kiss with a high-pitched intake and a glossed-over expression.

“Oh, fuck, Hajime,” you breathe, voice breathy and barely there, “fuckfuckfuck—just like that.”

“Yeah? My pretty girl likes that?” You bite your tongue to withhold the whine that’s building up and he’s quick to put an end to that. “I wanna hear my girl when she comes.”

That’s all it takes to push you over the edge, for your gummy walls to close around him so tight that he has to stop, for you to scream his name as tears fall from the corners of your eyes.

Beautiful.

“Fuck, I love you,” he mutters in between thrusts, chasing his own orgasm. It isn’t until the soft gasp that escapes you that he realizes what he said. Your eyes are wide, questioning, almost hopeful before you pull him back to your lips, kissing him as though your life depends on it. He comes, orgasm washing over him, pulling away from your eager lips so he can breathe.

Taking a moment to catch his breath after pulling out, he presses his weight against you, head resting on your chest, ear just above your heart. You run your fingers through his hair as the last couple of minutes play in his mind.

You don’t say it back, but he doesn’t need to hear it. Just you knowing how he feels will be enough.

February 2016 | 14:28

➸ “Were you ever going to tell me?” he asks, frustration and hurt dripping from his tone.

“I don’t understand why it matters! They have no bearing on our relationship!”

“They’re your parents! I’m your boyfriend. I should know if they don’t like me,” he argues, unable to look away from your defiant expression.

It shouldn’t be like this, you two shouldn’t be arguing. Not now, not when he had come out to spend Valentine’s day with you. If he hadn’t been getting ready in your bedroom, he doubts that he would have heard your parent’s unannounced visit, doubts he would have heard the conversation not meant for him.

And fuck if it doesn’t sting—the truth of your parent’s opinion of him as your romantic partner, the fact that you kept it from him, the dismissal of that little dream that had been forming in his mind. And you don’t get it. You don’t understand how fucking much this hurts.

“They don’t get to decide who I’m with! For fuck’s sake, Iwa! The only two people who matter in this relationship are you and me! Everyone else can go fuck off,” you spit and he hears your hurt with the explicit reduction in his name. He can't even pretend that it doesn't pain him—the fact that you called him 'Iwa' instead of 'Haji' or 'Hajime,' or the fact that you're suffering, too.

“They threatened to cut you off financially. It’s not as though you can afford to stay here without them.”

“My entire life they’ve dictated what I do, where I go, who I see. Befriending you was the first choice I made on my own and I’m not giving that up for them. If they wanna cut me off, then so be it.”

His breath catches in his throat as your declaration rings in the air, giving you an opportunity to say something he wishes you didn’t.

“If this is a deal-breaker for you—my parents not liking you—then so be it. I’m not forcing you to be in a relationship with me, nor am I going to try to get you guys to get along. I’m tired of doing everything I can for a modicum of their approval.”

The fire that burned through you is gone now as though a bucket of water was dumped over you both, leaving nothing but an icy chill blowing through the room.

He closes the distance between you two, eyes never leaving yours, seeing the depth of your fear and your insecurity.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises quietly.

As much as he would like for you to have a positive relationship with your parents, you’re right. What matters most is that you two are happy together. Later, when emotions have simmered, you two can talk about it. Maybe then he can voice his insecurities and you can voice yours.

October 2016 | 05:50

➸ He isn’t sure where his body ends and yours begins, not that he minds. Your soft snores offer a soothing lullaby that keeps him in a state of tranquility, keeps him from getting up too early on his day off.

How—indescribable all of this is. It’s been nearly three months now, living with you in California, but he’s still in a state of disbelief.

He keeps waiting for the moment he wakes up, the shift in reality to remind him that he’s simply imagining, dreaming, hoping for this outcome. It’s too good to be true, to finally be here with you, to be one step closer to that dream of his that’s starting to solidify.

No longer is it only for him to become a physical trainer, for him to work alongside professional athletes, to push them to be their best, but now you’re in the picture beside him. Before, he hadn’t given it much thought, not truly. But now? There’s hardly a day that goes by where he doesn’t find himself thinking of the future he wants, wondering what role you’ll play in it.

True to your sentiments earlier in the year, you removed yourself from your parent’s influence, finding outside funding for your education, finding a new place to live with Iwaizumi once his graduation went through. You’ve already taken such great steps to show him that you’re serious about him, that you’re serious about the relationship, regardless of what obstacles may arise.

You shift on his chest, drawing his focus down to you. There’s the subtle change in your breathing that suggests your imminent change in consciousness and he can’t help himself when his fingers start to trail through your hair.

“Mmm,” you hum lightly. “G’mornin’, my handsome man.”

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

Wriggling your way up, you press a sleepy kiss to the side of his mouth before a small yawn escapes you. He turns to press a kiss to your forehead, loving the tired look full of near reverence in your eyes.

“What’re we doing today?”

“What do you mean, ‘what are we doing today?’ You have class,” he asks, knowing you wouldn’t willingly miss a class now that you’re on an academic scholarship.

“Class is canceled. Teacher got sick. Go figure,” you mumble, reaching under your pillow for your phone. Unlocking your phone, the email is still the open tab on your phone, sent four hours ago. “We never get to do anything anymore. Why don’t we go out and experience nature?”

He chuckles at your pout, mulling over the possibility of a day hike. “I’ve been meaning to go to Joshua Tree.”

“C’mon, then! Let’s do it!” Your excitement is interrupted by a large yawn, accentuating how exhausted med school is leaving you. “Coffee first.”

“Whatever you want, doll. All you gotta do is ask and it's yours.”

Anything, anything at all.

May 2017 | 11:06

➸ He’s tired. He’s tired of the commute—nearly an hour for a distance of fewer than fifty kilometers by car, longer with public transit, longer for you. He’s tired of the cost of everything here.

He’s tired of not seeing you, tired of missed connections, of maybe—if he’s lucky—feeling you come to bed in the late hours, of waking up to leave before you. He’s tired of the bickering, of the fighting, of taking out frustrations on one another instead of talking about it with one another.

He’s exhausted, thoroughly. Completely. He misses you more than when he was 8,800 kilometers away from you.

So, when UCI offered him a position as a T.A., he took it. At least it will keep him busy while he’s missing you. At least he can help other students interested in sport sciences—well, interested enough to take courses in the subject. It gives him a prime opportunity to work more closely with Utsui outside of his own classes with him, something he’s endlessly grateful for.

The undergrads are eager to get going early—not that he can blame them—and, as the quarter started last week, he has no objections to letting them leave ten minutes early. He uses that time to check emails, making certain that no other students have any urgent inquiries, that Utsui doesn’t need him for anything else for the day.

Your text tone chimes, asking when he’ll be done with his lesson for the day. When he asks why, you respond with a simple, “Come to the parking lot.”

He isn’t expecting to see you leaning against your car with a familiar insulated bag in your hand and your book bag on your back. You look tired, just as exhausted as he feels, and a weary smile appears when he comes into view.

“Hey, there, handsome.” Your voice is heavy with the reality of the last couple of weeks, no cheer or lilt to be detected. “‘M sorry for all of the arguing. I’ve been taking things out on you and it’s not okay. I want to do better.”

“It’s not just you. I’ve done the same. We’ve both been kinda shitty.”

“Mm. That we have. I have some food from your favorite restaurant and I thought we could have a little picnic?”

“That sounds… amazing. We can do that if we talk about what’s been going on.”

Tension visibly leaves you and the smile you give him is a little lighter. “Absolutely, Hajime.”

September 2017 | 15:39

➸ You’re sick. Something small, most likely the flu, but you’re caught in a state of panic over it.

At the beginning of the month, you both had to miss school due to evacuations for the La Tuna fire, apparently the largest fire in the area for half a century. While your school had understood, you had set up meetings months ago that will determine the trajectory of your studies and your life after graduation. Meetings that were impossible to get and are appearing to be impossible to reschedule.

And now, you’re on your way to missing your third day of school this week. He understands the panic, understands the pressure you’re putting on yourself. Even if he didn’t, he doubts that he’d be doing anything else right now.

Your tears are staining his shirt while he holds you to him, keeping you close while he hums the melody of one of your favorite songs. It’s hot in this bed—between you and your fever and the blankets, he’s sure he’s melting. But it’s working and he’ll turn into a puddle before leaving you alone to deal with this.

Soon enough, your sobs turn into little sniffles and your grip in his shirt loosens. He continues to rub soothing circles on your back, continues to hum various songs until it dies down completely. It’s when you don’t complain about him humming Ifukube’s Godzilla theme that he realizes you’re asleep.

He’s gentle in laying you down, intentionally grabbing your phone and placing it on silent before noticing three missed calls from your parents. Just as he attempts to turn Do-Not-Disturb on his phone, too, he receives an email from your mother.

As much as he wants to read it and address whatever concern they may have, as much as he wants to prove that he’s worthy of being your long-term partner, he knows that you need rest above all else right now. Whatever this is, whatever they need, it can wait, at least until after you wake up and your fever breaks.

June 2018 | 21:27 (PST) 01:27 (ART)

➸ When he 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 him 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 had 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 Shittykawa and he has to pretend that hearing you talk to him, call him ‘Ru’ 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, that you still don’t know Iwaizumi’s home.

November 2018 | 09:45

➸ Oikawa’s ringtone can be heard in the kitchen where Iwaizumi had left his phone. It’s been two months since you left and a week since you called. The apartment is empty without you, even if all of your belongings are here, promising your return.

For what it’s worth, Oikawa’s been really helpful, carefully listening to both sides, understanding that it’s a case of frayed nerves, miscommunication, and shitty circumstances. So Iwaizumi wastes no time answering the phone.

“Iwa-chan! How’s California?”

“The same as it was two days ago. Kinda shitty and on fire.”

“Tsk. Always such a downer. Are you sure that it isn’t the absence of—”

“Her absence is exactly why it’s shitty and you know that.”

“Hm. I suppose I do,” Oikawa muses lightly. “Are you still on track to graduate just before summer?”

“Yeah. Spoke to my advisors this past week. I could graduate in two months, if I wanted, but…” if he does, then he’ll be leaving California. Leaving you. You’re nearly done with med school, almost ready to return to Japan.

He has no intention of returning alone. He’ll fight tooth and nail for you, for this relationship. Even if you two are… in a tough place, right now, he’s not going anywhere.

“Ah. Well. She misses you. She’s wrapped her pillow with one of your old Godzilla shirts.”

He snorts at the image, at the knowledge that it was you who had taken his shirt, that he hadn’t lost it at the laundromat. “That… sounds about right, I guess. How—how is she?”

“What? She hasn’t called you?” Oikawa asks, sounding surprised. Overwhelmingly surprised.

“No? She called me last Tuesday and I haven’t really heard from her since.”

“That’s—maybe she picked up extra shifts at the clinic? I could ask when I see her tomorrow.”

“You’re gonna see her tomorrow?”

“We were gonna watch a recording of the Adlers-Black Jackal’s game. I wanna watch Ushiwaka and Kageyama lose to Shōyō! Do you want me to tell her to give you a call?”

Iwaizumi hesitates, wanting to talk to you more than anything—actually, no, he wants to hold you more than anything—but he wants it only if you’re doing it because you want to.

“Nah. It’s okay. I’ll, ah, I’ll shoot her a text. Hopefully, we’ll be able to talk today or tomorrow. Hey, listen—”

“Iwa-chan. She’ll come around,” Oikawa states, catching onto Iwaizumi’s discomfort. “It was nice chatting with you, but practice is about to start.”

“Yeah, okay. Talk to you later.”

Iwaizumi sinks into the couch, letting his mind wander over what the future holds. With his program coming to an end, will he be able to find work with the V. League? When you return, will you two be able to reconcile properly? Will you want to be a part of his future?

Before he can spend too much time dwelling on the infinite possibilities that lay ahead, he receives a text from you.

Hey. I miss you. A lot. There’s so much I want to tell you but I know you’re probably busy. Please give me a call if your schedule permits? I have two days off, starting tomorrow. I’ll be watching a recording of the Schweiden-MSBY game with Crappykawa tomorrow, but that can be paused... I miss you. I hope you’re well.

December 2018 | 02:13

➸ He had come to Japan after being contacted by the JVA thanks to Ushijima’s recommendation, not expecting to be contacted by your parents when your dad suffered a massive heart attack.

Your cousin left a bit ago to pick you up from the airport and he’s anxious, both for the outcome of the emergency surgery and to see you for the first time in months. For the first time since officially courting you, they had finally said “yes.”

“Please allow me to marry your daughter.”

All he had wanted was to do right by you, by your parents, by his. While the two of you may not be sticklers for tradition, they are. And he wants for you to have a relationship with his family as much as he would like a… cordial relationship with yours.

“Hajime.”

It’s a breath of fresh air, the first thaw of the snow as it makes way for spring, the warmth of a cackling fire after a day in the cold. A whispered devotion full of words long unsaid, full of emotions long since bottled. It’s you.

He doesn’t care for Japanese customs or propriety—if anything, he can blame it on living in California for the last couple of years. Standing abruptly, he starts in your direction, allowing for relief to wash through him, for love to fill him. Opening his arms, you readily fall into him, readily accept him, openly ignoring your cousin’s blatant disapproval of such public affection.

“I—fuck, Haji. I didn’t expect to see you here, for you to still be at the hospital! Oh, shit. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much,” you cry into his chest as tears begin to fall in earnest. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left things the way I did. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re here now. That’s what matters,” he murmurs into your hair, glad to have you so close. “I, uh, I was already planning on staying until visiting hours officially open in the morning. I don’t know what you had planned on doing, but they probably won’t let me or Michiko enter.”

You still in his arms, reading the air, understanding what Iwaizumi isn’t saying. “Is okaasan still here?”

“I believe she’s trying to sleep in your father’s room. Kicked up a nasty fuss when they tried to get her to leave,” he tells you with a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah. That sounds like her. Will… will you come with me? I don’t want to go alone.”

After spending so long without you, he doesn’t want to let go so soon, prepared to agree to anything that allows him to be close. When you get to your father’s room, he waits outside. He tries not to listen to the soft words spoken between you and your mother, but there’s one piece of dialogue that he can’t ignore.

“We approve of him. Whatever happens today, know that we approve.”

“I—I don’t know what to make of that.”

“I would hope that you would take that as our blessing, but, knowing you, you wouldn’t have cared either way,” your mother bites, releasing some of the pent-up frustration on you. After a beat, she says, “He loves you.”

“I know,” you reply, voice a little softer than before.

“Do you love him? I imagine you must, with everything you were prepared to sacrifice for him.”

You’ve never said it aloud, not to him, anyway. He never needed to hear it, never needed it to know that you care, to know that he wants to be with you for however long you’ll have him by your side.

All the same, his heart stills with your answer.

“Yeah. I do.”

August 2019 | 22:27

➸ It rained earlier and the smell of damp concrete and asphalt still lingers in the air. This part of the city is relatively quiet and the atmosphere here is tranquil. It’s quiet enough that he immediately catches the small sound of the sliding door opening.

You wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing against his back, humming when he takes your hands and presses light kisses to them before returning them to their original position.

“You’re up late,” you comment lightly, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. “Any special reason?”

“I wanted to see you, pretty girl. I have some news for you.”

“Oya?”

He snickers, remembering that guy with the rooster hair from the JVA that he had spoken with earlier in the day. “I got the job.”

“You got the job?!”

“I got the job,” he confirms with a wide smile, turning in your grip to face you. Your smile is just as wide as his, eyes shining with pride and love.

“That’s fantastic! We should celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” he asks, watching as you remove yourself from his arms to dance in the apartment, making your way to the fridge.

“Yeah! It’s not every day that a piece of your future falls into place, y’know?”

He follows you inside, watching with mirth as you continue to babble excitedly, opening a single beer for you both to share.

This. This is what he wanted. An opportunity to work with people passionate about their sport, to help keep them at their best while ensuring their safety. An opportunity to live with you in Tokyo as you continue pursuing a career in sports medicine.

“Hajime?” you ask, making him realize he missed the last minute or so of your rambling. “Is everything okay?”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me.”

« Like A Moonbeam. | Three Choices »

#hq!!#hajime #adore this fic and your hajime forever and ever ix!!!!#this is so long and all over the place im sorry asdhfvasdjb

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spacebatisluvd · 4 years ago

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Summary: Entrapta and Hordak discuss different forms of stimulation.

Content Warning: Frank discussion of sexual arousal and means of sexual stimulation/porn. Mentions of masturbation. Discussion of consent. Voyeurism...kind of. (Also, there is Sea Hawk, but he not involved in any of the former.)

It was easier to scavenge parts from Prime’s towers than Hordak thought it would be. They had to be deconstructed anyway, and he found himself separating out anything that could be repurposed in any case. It was a simple thing to set aside a few small components for his own project. As Entrapta said, it was surprisingly easy, and required no stealth at all. Sea Hawk never even asked what he was doing, even when Hordak began to tinker with the components right in front of him.

As he sorted through the parts, he found numerous pieces Entrapta would find interesting. Data chips of a style she’d likely never seen. Intricate mechanisms of a design she’d find satisfying to unlock and unravel. A few small pieces that he knew she would find ‘cute’. He set these aside and commandeered a crate to ship them. After he felt he’d gathered enough tech to keep her occupied for at least a little while, he labeled what he could and began neatly packing it for shipment.

Sea Hawk watched him. “Hmmm...you know, if we weren’t such good friends, I might find this very suspicious.”

Hordak was entirely unsure if that was a roundabout way of stating his suspicions or if he was just reiterating his confidence in their presumed ‘friendship’. Nor did he care to parse Sea Hawk’s intentions. “I’m sending these to Entrapta to—“

Sea Hawk leapt from his place at the drafting table to catch Hordak’s forearms in his hands. Pain shot up his arms. Hordak disguised a flinch by hissing at him and pulling away, his ears drawn back. Still, Sea Hawk pressed forward. Frowning, Hordak held a hand against his chest, holding him at arm’s length while he glared. “Oh, you are clever, aren’t you? You nearly had me fooled!”

“You are entirely incomprehensible.”

Sea Hawk shook a chastising finger at him. “No ‘wooing’, hmmm? And yet, here you are—sending her gifts! Tokens of your affections! Very clever! I nearly believed you were too heartbroken to ever love again, but I see now that all is not lost. Never fear! I will help you!” He grinned. “Tell me, what are you sending?”

Hordak cocked his head, one ear folded back. “These are not—“ He huffed. “These are artifacts that Entrapta will enjoy studying. They are not tokens of anything, nor are they gifts.”

“My friend, you are a terrible liar. These are obviously gifts!”

“I am given to understand that gifts are presented during special occasions.”

Sea Hawk’s grin was broad and knowing. “Oh, no. A gift can be given at any time! And a gift given without a specific reason? That is the most heartfelt gift of all.” He winked. “Were I not so infatuated with my dearest, my darling—the enchanting Princess Mermista—I might regret denying you so swiftly.”

Hordak nearly left the room on principle, but he had to admit there was at least a drop of truth in his ocean of nonsense. “A gift can simply be given without cause?” Sea Hawk nodded enthusiastically. G laring at him, Hordak slowly withdrew his hand, wanting to make sure the pirate would not try to touch him again. “I see. That does change things.”

He folded his arms behind his back, considering the crate. He had chosen items he knew she would enjoy working with. Things she would find interesting. However, it did not feel like a gift. If he intended it to serve as such, then it seemed...incomplete.

Some part of him whispered a reminder that it did not need to be perfect. She would appreciate it regardless. Nevertheless, thinking of it as a gift inexplicably changed the framework.

He dropped his gaze. A gift was meant to be at least somewhat sentimental, wasn’t it? A token of affection should demonstrate affection, and even he knew that the collection of tech—though something she would certainly appreciate and enjoy—was rather...cold. His ears folded back. Entrapta deserved a better gift than that.

Unfortunately, he did need help if he was going to make this shipment of tech into a gift. He was not adept at expressing sentiment, and he wanted to get this right. Entrapta had done so much for him. She deserved a good gift.

But he was absolutely not asking Sea Hawk for advice.

He didn’t have many people he would trust to ask, though. Ideally, he’d ask Entrapta, but that seemed inappropriate in this situation. He did know of one person that might be willing to help, however. She and Entrapta were friends, and as a bonus, she didn’t seem to have any trouble expressing affection. He looked to Sea Hawk, who grinned. “Yes, friend?”

“Do you know how to get in contact with Force C—that is, Princess Scorpia?”

Thankfully, the archer had apparently given all the princesses communicators at some point, and it was easy enough to connect to hers. Getting Scorpia to pick up was another matter.

“Ope! Wait! Don’t hang up! I’m here! Just. Having some trouble. Claws, you know?”

Hordak and Sea Hawk watched the display flip and turn as she fumbled the communicator. Finally, her face came into view. Upside down. “Princess Scorpia—“

She yelped and the communicator fumbled again. Hordak sighed, looking skyward. “Lord Hordak!” she said, picking up the communicator. Right side up, this time. “Hi! Uh. Didn’t, um. Didn’t expect to see you. And—is that Sea Hawk?”

“Hi, Scorpia!”

She looked at both of them. “Excuse me. I just need to—“ She pinched a fleshy part of her arm. “Oh, yeah. Okay. Definitely awake. Um....” She studied them both. “Is everything okay? Blink twice if you need help.”

Hordak huffed. “I will not, but I do require your assistance.”

“I. Did not expect this, but...okay. Shoot!”

He cocked his head, trying to figure out what he was supposed to shoot and with what. The peace treaty explicitly forbade him from carrying any weapons. Sea Hawk interrupted his musings, stealing the data pad and showing her the crate of tech. “Hordak is send a gift to Entrapta!”

He had to bite back his instinctive denial. For once, Sea Hawk’s assessment was—

“He is trying to woo her! He has confided to me—“

With a growl, he snatched the data pad back. “I told you—there is no ‘wooing’! And I have confided nothing. Stop lying.” Shaking his head, he deliberately wiped the irritation from his features and turned back to Scorpia. “I have several pieces of tech to send to Entrapta. Sea Hawk has observed that this could be considered a ‘gift’, but I find it lacks...feeling. You are Entrapta’s friend. She speaks highly of you, and you are known to be adept at expressing affection. Would you be willing to assist me?” She was staring at him, her eyes gone wide and watery. “Princess? Are you well?”

“Mm-hmm. Just. A little emotional. She speaks highly of me? And you’re sending her a gift?”

He gave a firm nod. “Yes. She has been...kind to me. Inordinately so. I wish to reciprocate her kindness and demonstrate my gratitude. Are you willing?”

She nodded, eyes still a little watery. “Of course! Show me what you’re sending.”

“It is Horde tech I’ve harvested from Prime’s towers.”

“Oh, she’ll love that—did you find anything small? She likes small things.”

“Yes. There are several pieces that I believe she will consider ‘cute’, though I am unsure. Her standard is somewhat inconsistent.” His ears flexed, but thankfully, he didn’t blush.

“Okay, that’s good. She’ll like that. What else?”

The tips of his ears drooped. “That is it. As I said, it is somewhat...cold.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay, I see what you mean. Hmmm.” She pressed a claw to her mouth, brows furrowed as she considered what he’d said. “She’s mentioned that she likes the sound of your voice.” He called upon all his time in the Galactic Horde to keep his expression neutral. “And she’s always listening to recordings. Maybe you could—“

Sea Hawk made an ungodly sound, and Hordak turned, searching for the source of his pain. Were they under attack? Then Sea Hawk grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, pulling him down until they were eye to eye. The data pad was crushed between them. Faintly, he could hear Scorpia asking what was wrong, but Sea Hawk commanded all his attention at the moment. “YOU MUST SING FOR HER!”

What.

“I—No. Absolutely not.” He shoved Sea Hawk off of him, glaring.

Sea Hawk would not be dissuaded. “Yes! A song is the perfect way to express your love! Your passion! Your desire.”

Hordak stared at him, ears back. He looked to Scorpia, who seemed hesitant. “I’m not really sure about that....”

“I am absolutely sure that is not happening,” Hordak said firmly, deftly avoiding Sea Hawk as he reached for him again. “Stop touching me! I have not given you leave to do so!”

“But it would be so perfect! I can picture it now—“

Hordak had had enough of this. Ears back, he glowered at the man. Scorpia, seeing his face, paled. “Uh. Sea Hawk.”

“—swept up by your passion! And I can help you compose it! Nay, not just can—I will! I must! It is my sacred duty as your wingman—“

Hordak picked up the tech he’d been working on, glancing at Sea Hawk. He’d been intending to test it out anyway. “Sea Hawk!” Scorpia said, raising her voice. “You should really stop now. It would be a very good idea to not do any of the things you’re doing anymore.”

Ignoring both of them, Hordak took the tech and the data pad and marched to the doorway. It had no real door—they’d been working out of an abandoned shop, the door kicked in and the stock raided long ago. He set the data pad down, and pressed a component to each corner of the doorway. With a glance at Sea Hawk, who had finally noticed that Hordak was not just ignoring him but actively walking away, he pressed his thumb to the activator. A red beam fired from it, connecting to the opposite transmitter. In rapid sequence, each transmitter fired, and with a flash, a red field formed over the door.

Hordak stood back, studying it. No signs of sparking, and the field itself seemed solid enough. Through the red field, he could see Sea Hawk’s mouth moving but—blessedly, miraculously—he couldn’t hear him, except for a faint, muffled echo. He closed his eyes and sighed, at peace. Sea Hawk tapped at the field insistently, kindly providing proof of concept.

He stepped away and picked up the data pad. Scorpia looked at him with dread and fear in her eyes. “He’s not dead, is he? Please tell me he’s not dead. I know he’s a lot, but...just tell me he’s not dead.”

“He is not dead.” He turned the data pad to face the doorway. Seeing that he had their attention, Sea Hawk waved, then gestured for him to deactivate the forcefield. Hordak ignored this request and turned the data pad back around. “Are you satisfied?”

“Oh, wow. Okay. Phew. I really thought you’d, uh....” She let out an uneasy laugh. “I am so glad you didn’t kill him. I mean, we’ve been having such a nice conversation. It really would have spoiled things if....” She paused. “He can breathe in there, right?”

“Yes. It is merely a forcefield.”

She let out a relieve sigh. “Oh, good. Okay. So. Where were we?”

“You suggested a recording of some sort, but what?” They both grew quiet, thinking. Then, his eyes lit up. “Perhaps....”

“You have an idea?”

“I...believe so. You will tell me your thoughts. In a few weeks, only two of your ridiculous artificial moons will be visible for a period of approximately one hour before more of them rise. During that window, several stars and planets that would not normally be visible to the naked eye will be very prominent in the night sky. I could create a star chart for her, so that she could properly view these stars and planets. Perhaps I could record some information on each of them, for her to listen to while she views them?” He looked at Scorpia. “Would that be acceptable?”

Her eyes were watery again. “Oh. Wow. Okay. Yeah. That’s, um. That’s perfect. She’ll love that. And, uh, when exactly will this be? Perfuma loves the stars. It would be nice to show her more of them.”

“Send me your coordinates, and I will give you an exact time. Be sure to select a spot with a clear view of the sky, away from all ambient sources of light. That will provide you with the optimum viewing experience.”

She beamed at him. “Thanks! That would be great!”

He nodded. “Thank you for your assistance. It is appreciated.”

“No problem at all! And...keep in touch, okay? I’m, uh, I’m glad you and Entrapta found each other again.” She smiled at him and, ears cocked, he offered a hesitant nod.

“I believe I can do that,” he said, somewhat unsure of himself. The request seemed unusual, and yet, he felt inexplicably warmed by it. “You will...do the same?” He wasn’t sure if that was the correct reply, but her smile was bright and vibrant, so it seemed acceptable.

“I will.” She wished him well, then disconnected.

Hordak glanced at the forcefield, which Sea Hawk was testing by throwing his body against it. He shut his eyes, savoring the momentary silence. Then he approached the door and pressed his thumb to the activator. The field went out, and the soft humming he’d barely noticed before cut out all at once.

Unprepared for this, Sea Hawk ran past, stumbling on the shop’s stoop. Hordak caught him by the back of the shirt, saving him from falling face-first on the ground. He stood him upright, and held up a hand when Sea Hawk started to speak. “Do not touch me without my permission.”

“Oh. You—you don’t like that?”

“I do not.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Hordak shut his eyes and exhaled slowly, then entered the abandoned shop and activated the field, locking himself inside.

Silence. Blessed. Silence.

He would have to report to Entrapta that her plan was a success; with this in place, he would feel quite comfortable and secure in his quarters. Far more so than a mere lock would allow.

In his quarters several days later, Hordak’s data pad started to chime. “Answer call,” he said.

“Hordak!”

His features softened into a smile as he angled the data pad to face him. “Hello, Starlight. Did you—“

She squealed happily, interrupting him. “The tech! And the star-chart! The recording!”

“You received my package then. You are pleased?”

“Pleased? I’m—I’m speechless! No one’s ever done something like this for me before.”

His chest felt warm, his hearts light. “Scorpia assisted me. Sea Hawk was more of a hindrance, but he was present for parts of the discussion.”

She gave him a fond look. He realized that the Princess Alliance was very fortunate she had no interest in conquest, because he would have given her the world if he thought she’d look at him like that. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll miss you. When I’m looking at the stars.”

“You will have my commentary. And you will know I am looking at the same stars and thinking of you.”

“I know! It’s just...it’s not the same as having you here.” She paused, hair curling around her face. “I miss you. I miss having you in the lab. Kadroh tries, but he’s not you.” She paused. “Are you alone?”

“I am.”

“And...you won’t be interrupted?”

“The forcefield is on. I was just about to take off my armor before you called.”

“Ooh, can I watch?”

He cocked his head, ears flexing. “You want. To watch.”

“Is that okay?”

“I suppose.” He eyed her. “May I ask why?”

”I find it satisfying. Something in the way the pieces fit together, the way they connect to your ports. Additionally, I find you appealing to look at.”

His cheeks felt warm. He swallowed. “As you wish.” He angled the data pad and stepped away, so more of his body was visible to the camera. “Is this all right?”

She nodded eagerly. He hesitated, fingers on the crystal at his chest. “I am...unsure how to proceed.”

She leaned closer to the camera. “You don’t have to do anything special. You can just take it off as you usually do.” He nodded, but the uncertainty lingered. Despite her words, this felt like something else. Something different. She smiled. “If you like, I can give you directions.”

His shoulders relaxed. “I would appreciate that.”

“Okay, start with the crystal.” He obeyed readily, closing his hand around it. It felt good, nestled in his palm. “Now the vambraces.” H e reluctantly set the chip aside, and held up his arm to begin unhooking the armor from his radial ports. The touch of cool air on his skin was a welcome relief after the heat of the day. “I wish I was with you,” she said while he took of the other vambrace. “I want to run my hands over your arms.”

He froze, remembering what it felt like to have her hands on his forearms, fingers running through the radial void. His skin prickled at the thought. “It is pleasant,” he said stiffly, “When you do that.”

“Yeah?” He nodded. “Would it be pleasant if I kissed your hands?”

He looked at the data pad, then at his hands, flexing the fingers. “Why would you...?”

“I like your hands,” she said. “Sometimes, in the lab, I like to watch you work; I find it satisfying. You’re very dextrous. I think about kissing them. Your knuckles. Your fingertips. Do you think you would like that, if I did?”

He swallowed hard. He could hear his hearts beating. “Not. Not in the lab. That would be unsafe. But...I think. Perhaps I might. Enjoy that in. Other circumstances.”

“Oh, good! When I see you, we’ll have to try it.” He nodded, feeling faintly adrift. “Now the armor around your upper arms.”

“Rerebrace.”

“Hmmm?”

“That’s the name of it. A rerebrace.”

“Oh! Okay. Yeah, go ahead and remove that.”

He nodded and worked the pieces of the rerebrace free. He winced a little, massaging the withered muscle when it was exposed. “Do your arms hurt?” she asked, voice soft.

“No more than usual.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He paused, looking at the data pad. “Yes. They ache. Is that a sufficient answer?” She nodded, a worried line appearing between her brows. Not wanting to linger on that, he asked, “Should I remove my pauldrons?”

“Please.” He disconnected them from his scapular ports, rolling his shoulder after removing each. “Does it feel good, taking off your armor?”

Absently working the stiffness from his arm and shoulder, he considered her question. “It helps to manage my pain, so it is not entirely pleasant to take it off. Nor do I enjoy this state of vulnerability. However, it does become uncomfortable after wearing it for a long period. In that way, it is a relief to remove it.”

“I see.”

He finished stretching his shoulders, then reached back to disconnect his gorget from his thoracic and cervical ports. He couldn’t withhold a soft groan, and he ran his fingers around the cervical port, over the back of his neck, massaging the tendons. He lifted his chin and rubbed his fingers along the sides of his throat, easing the tension that tightened the muscles. He rolled his neck, and Entrapta made a soft, strained sound. He paused, one hand on the nape of his neck. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, one hand covering her mouth. “Mmh-hmm. Keep going.”

His ears twitched in confusion, but he only had one more segment to remove. The rib guards each disconnected with a soft hiss and he set them aside. A faint ache spread across his ribcage, and he raised one arm at a time, massaging the muscles along his sides as he did. Entrapta watched, rapt. He paused, looking at her. “You truly are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

She nodded slowly. “I admit, I’ve never been particularly interested in...visual stimuli. But I find that watching you is.” She exhaled shakily. “Stimulating. More so than expected.”

His hair prickled, and he smoothed it down instinctively. “Stimulating.”

“Yes. Very.”

“I. See.” His ears flexed. “In...in what way?”

“Sexually.”

The prickling grew worse, and he cleared his throat, feeling heat spread across his cheeks. “I. I was not aware that this kind of activity could be....” His chest felt tight, and his hearts were beating fast. “Arousing. In that way.”

“Oh.” Her eyes went wide. “I’m sorry! I should have— That is.” A red flush spread across her cheeks. “I think I mishandled this situation,” she said, “When I asked to watch you remove your armor, it was an innocent request. I find it...satisfying. The same way I find it satisfying to deconstruct a robot. I didn’t take my sexual interest into account, so I didn’t realize that it would likely affect me in an entirely different way as well!” Her blush deepened, and her hair began wrapping itself around her. “If I’d thought about it, I would have known, and I would have asked if you were okay with that before we continued! I didn’t mean to make you feel...used.”

“Used?”

She nodded, eyes wide. Her hair was frazzled, grasping tightly at her clothing and her arms. “It’s a matter of consent, isn’t it? It would be one thing, if you knew I wanted to watch you undress for purposes of sexual gratification—“ The heat spread across his face, all the way to the tips of his ears. “—but it’s entirely another if I watched you for that purpose without your knowledge or consent. But I didn’t—I didn’t intend to! This is an...unprecedented reaction on my part.” She spoke in rapid succession, her discomfort obvious. “I would have clarified, if I knew, or I wouldn’t have asked in the first place!” Her hair was so frizzy and so tightly coiled, it looked like she was being consumed by it. “I’m sorry!”

“Entrapta.” He wished that he was there with her, wished that he could reach out and offer her his hand. “I do not feel used.”

She swallowed. “You don’t?”

“No. I feel...” He considered. “Surprised. I admit I am also intrigued. I was under the impression that tactile stimulation was necessary to be...aroused. To any degree.”

“Oh, no. There are lots of ways to cause sexual arousal. Their effectiveness varies from person to person, but any engagement of the senses can be arousing, so much so that they’re used as masturbatory aids. Visual stimuli, auditory stimuli, or a combination of both is very popular. Personally, I prefer mental stimulation in the form of erotic literature.”

“Erotic. Literature.”

“Yeah—people write about sex or characters having sex or something similar, and that can be very stimulating.”

His face felt like it was burning. “Would.” He swallowed. “The. The procedural outline you gave to me. Could that be considered. Erotic literature?”

She blinked. “Oh. I didn’t really think of it that way, but I guess it could. Why?”

He felt a little lightheaded. “I believe I need to sit down.” He grabbed the data pad and sat on the bed. “So, it is...normal to react physically to non-tactile stimulation?”

“Oh, yes. Perfectly normal.”

“It is not a sign of-of...unnatural desires? Or anything...perverse?”

“Not at all!” She studied him, and her eyes widened. “Oh. Did you find my outline stimulating?”

He looked away, ears drawn down. “I.” He exhaled hard, fingers clenching on the bedspread. “Yes. I thought.” He shut his eyes. “I thought that there was something wrong with me. Prime always said we would be nothing but beasts without his influence to control our urges. I thought my reaction was...supporting evidence.”

“Oh, no! No, it’s not that at all!” She swore softly, and he looked at her, ears cocked. He rarely heard her use that kind of language. “I wish I was there. I wish I could hold you. I wish....” Her mouth was firm, though her eyes seemed wide and over-bright. “Prime is a liar,” she said. “He lied to you. All of you. There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing unnatural or perverse. If anything—“ She lifted her chin, and there was something fierce in her gaze, something protective. “I’m glad you found my proposal stimulating. Flattered, even. Next time, though, I would like it if you talked to me if anything I do or say causes you to feel that way.”

“I was ashamed. I thought you would think less of me.”

The fierceness faded into something sad. “Oh, Hordak....”

He shut his eyes, wincing. “I should have talked to you.” His ears pulled back, and he looked away from the data pad. “You have proven yourself worthy of my trust. I am sorry I did not honor that.”

“It’s okay,” she said, “When you don’t think you deserve better, or if it matches your past experience with people, it’s easier to believe the worst. Even of people you...trust.” Her voice sounded strange. He turned and realized she’d drawn her mask down. “But we can be better with each other. Or, at least, we can try. Right?” She cocked her head in question.

Slowly, he nodded, wishing that she was here with him. Wishing he was there with her. “Yes. We will be better with each other.”

She raised her mask hesitantly. “Does this mean you’re still interested in our Intimacy Log? I thought you might have changed your mind, and I didn’t want to pressure you.”

He hesitated. “I worry about harming you.”

She smiled. “That’s okay. I worry about hurting you too.” He blinked. “I think, if we endeavor to talk to each other openly and honestly, we’ll be okay. I am comfortable proceeding with the log if you are.”

He swallowed. The idea had him feeling jittery and nervous, but there was an element of excitement as well. And a not insignificant part of him just wanted to prove Prime wrong. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes. I would like to proceed. I will review your proposal and send it back to you. When I return, perhaps we can...attempt the procedure.”

She smiled. “I would like that. And if you change your mind, please tell me.”

“I will.”

A/N: Your comments are treasured. I may not reply (for various reasons) but know that I often re-read the things you guys say because they make me so happy. Thank you so much. ^_^ I’m glad you’re all reading and enjoying this fic.

#intimacy log #entrapdak #hordak #entrapta #my work #work inappropriate #sea hawk #scorpia

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