Ding!

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader wc; 900+ genre; fluff a/n; prompt request for @luvnami <33 hope you like it!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The ‘U’ in Ushijima must stand for uncertainty, you’ve come to realize.

You suppose you could say the two of you were ‘dating’ — by a far stretch of the word. That is, if you could consider nightlong FaceTime calls and cheering him on at volleyball games dating.

You hadn’t even realized he was interested in you until Tendou pointed out that no, in fact, it was not normal for the Shiratorizawa ace to be following someone around campus like some love sick puppy,  and no, Tendou has never seen his partner smile, let alone smile at another person.

You had always thought Ushijima was always just… there. But now, he was making his presence known, and suddenly your vision was filled with nothing but him.

And maybe there was something charming about how he always seemed to find you. And you’ve discovered that Ushijima speaks exactly what was on his mind — it comforts you to know that he means what he says, and he says what he means.

And yet, it is exactly this bluntness that’s become the source of your confusion in the first place.

“So, are you guys going out?” Tendou had dared to ask one sunny afternoon during lunch time, picking at his food and staring at the two of you from above his chopsticks.

“Yes,” Ushijima answers instantly, wiping at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Your heart beats faster at the certainty of his words, sharing a surprised glance with Tendou.

That is, until Ushijima says, “Y/N has P.E. after lunch, so I will have to walk her outside.”

You physically had to stop yourself from banging your head on the table.

Tendou was not one to give up so easily though, opting for a more direct approach.

“No, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou sighs out exasperatedly, “I mean, are you guys together?”

You held your breath, wanting to know the answer just as much as the middle blocker did.

“Yes, we are together,” Ushijima says with his usual monotonous voice, though you don’t let yourself get too excited.

“We are eating our lunch together, Satori. Can’t you see?”

The school bell had rung as Tendou began his third attempt, and promptly the conversation had been swept away amongst the crowds of students trying to get back to class.

Keep reading

会いたい: 'cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me

Gojo: Must be hard not being able to laugh

Nanami: I do have a sense of humor you know

Gojo: I’ve never heard you laugh before

Nanami: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

ding!

. . . fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru. too young to be singing the blues.

note. used the recent chapter 230 leaks as reference + spoilers for the manga franchise ahead.

“how is he?”

“he’s well . . he’s still recovering, and hasn’t woken up yet.”

your eyes vaguely gloss over as you take in megumi’s state. his body lay unconscious on the hospital bed, showing not much sign of progress. the slow, rhythmic beeping of the medical equipment that aided his recovery reverberated around the room—and it rang in your ears like an endless gong. you were afraid of what could happen to his vital signs the moment you tended to your other patients.

satoru nods, softly closing the door. his usually beaming, carefree mood is dampened to nothing but a worried, exhausted feeling that eats him away bit by bit. you’ve never seen him be this genuine with his emotions after the major events that took place, but could you really blame him? the kid got lost being a vessel for the king of curses and had to endure his formidable power, almost losing his own life and what’s left of his soul in the process.

“could you open the blinds a bit?” you asked quietly, studying the nurses’ recent reports on megumi’s condition. “megs always scolds me when i rarely let the light in our house.” a bitter sigh escaped your lips as you remembered the memory. “the kid thinks i’m turning into a vampire when he sees me all cooped up in my office.”

satoru chuckles at that, and he does as he’s requested. “i remember.”

. . .

“do you think he’ll wake up?”

a deafening pause followed. neither of you two—or any other medical professional out there in the big, wide world—could really provide a definite answer. but still, someone had to ask what the other thought. to navigate through a raging sea of thoughts and feelings that could drown someone, communication had not always been your forte in the relationship, but now that the storm’s been calmed—even for the briefest of moments—you and satoru wanted to be honest with each other.

cut the bullshit; disregard the thought of not wanting to burden one another.

“i don’t know,” you answer truthfully, and your voice wavers as you do so. “but i won’t ever lose hope that one day he’ll be awake, asking me what i’ll be making for breakfast because i know he wants something specific for that day. . . just like he used to.”

“mm, yeah,” he agrees, observing you take a seat on the opposite side of megumi’s bed, opposite of satoru. “he’s a tough kid,” he says, his hand fiddling with the cold metal bar. “he got that from you, y’know?”

you roll your eyes at his comment. “really? and he got his hardheadedness from you.” you murmur, glancing at megumi who’s still unresponsive. “he could get a bit reckless with his missions, too. guess who he got that from.”

“hey!” satoru pouts slightly, but it’s all to lighten the situation. “well, you know. . . megumi’s keen on his surroundings and often— what’s the word? he picks things up easily.”

“really, you two being reckless would cause me to age thirty times faster.”

“come on, that’s not true.”

“it is.”

“if that’s the case, how old are you now, then?”

“physically, i’m twenty-nine. mentally, i think i’m in my late sixties.”

“wow, ok. you’re an elderly person now,” he cheekily smiled. “does that mean we’ll see you in the priority lanes at fast food establishments?”

you gave him a glare. “whatever, gojo satoru.”

“ooh, using my full name? i think i made the old-timer mad.”

“shut up!” you chuckled.

“i should turn down the ac,” satoru says, arranging a new bouquet of megumi’s favorite flowers on the displayed vase. “yuuji and the others visited earlier this afternoon, and it’s safe to say that they’re still hoping for your fast recovery.”

no response.

he quietly sighed, turning down the air conditioner’s thermostat just a bit. “you hate it when the room’s too cold, right? you always wanted to stay in whenever winter got too cold for your liking.”

once again, he’s met with just the occasional beeping of megumi’s medical equipment.

it’s been a year and a half, and there’s still not much news.

“you’re early, ‘toru.” satoru looks at you as you enter the room.

and the first thing he greets you with is, “you look like shit.” not even a simple, “hey” or “have you eaten?” really, he had to greet you with that?

you contemplate whether you should smack him with the wooden clipboard you’re holding. and so you did, smacking it against his side playfully. satoru, ever the dramatic lover, whines as he soothes the area you hit.

“hello to you, too.”

“hmph.” he crosses his arms over his chest. “can you believe this, megumi? they’re being mean to me again. it just slipped, ok? i think you’re a very hardworking doctor, and your job is very admirable. love you.”

“don’t act all lovey-dovey with me,” you told him, sitting next to megumi’s bed. “you still haven’t washed the dishes.”

“i did!”

“whatever you say.”

satoru slumps on the spot on the opposite side of you. “have you finished your rounds?”

“yeah,” you answer, leaning your head on the cold side rail. “i think i’m going to get a quick shut-eye before i take on another shift.”

“really, you need to get some sleep. stop taking on more work than your body and mind can handle,” he frowned. “why don’t we go home and come back tomorrow?”

“no, no.” you yawn. “i . . .”

there was a pause, and satoru thought you had already fallen asleep.

“i want to be here when he wakes up. megumi might wake up and become worried that he’s all alone, no? or he might panic— i . . . don’t want to go home, satoru.”

because home is where satoru and megumi is.

he nods, deciding not to go against it. “alright, i’ll stay here with you, then.”

“mm. don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“don’t worry, i’ll handle it.” satoru stood up, draping his trenchcoat over your figure and giving you a reassuring side hug as he knelt beside you. “get some sleep, yeah?” he murmurs, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “we’ll be here when megumi wakes up. promise.”

the room is dimly lit by the moonlight that filters through the windows, illuminating softly against megumi’s skin. he stirs awake and blinks slowly through his half-asleep daze. he felt exhausted, and could barely move his head or his hands. uncomfortable with how lethargic he was and the environment he was in, he became worried.

what happened?

where was he?

was everyone okay?

was he okay?

at the feeling of a warm hand on either of his, his eyes glanced over to see who they belonged to.

yours and satoru’s, over megumi’s undoubtedly cold ones.

you had your head on the vacant portion of the bed, and satoru leaned on the side rail, both of you sleeping peacefully. safe and unharmed.

and it’s almost surprising how quickly he felt reassured. a feeble attempt at smiling is made, and megumi relaxes—he’s safe; he’s fine, because he had the two people who cared most about him by his side in his frailest moment. megumi thinks that he’s reverted back to his seven-year-old state, where he feels absolutely embarrassed to even tell you or satoru that he’s had an awful dream.

nevertheless, he’s content with this.

he’s home, after all.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

Be gentle with yourself, you are healing.

five times you fell in love with ushijima wakatoshi.

masterlist | sorry this is really long. I just love him sm <3

01. that one day when he walked you home and stayed for dinner. your mother had told ushijima she had never found the neighborhood safe, so he made it a point to walk you back everyday after his practices.

you came upon a startling realization during this time. ushijima was definitely raised like a gentleman. he would never let you walk on the outer side of the sidewalk. anytime you were on the outer side, he'd take a step back and go around you. always.

“thank you for dropping me home, wakatoshi,” you told him. it was a routine for you to say this and for him to reply that you shouldn't thank him for this.

“i am thankful though. especially for you not letting me walk on the outer side,” you explain and ushijima feels like he's been caught off guard. he did do it unintentionally most of the time, yes, but he makes sure of it when he's with you. its also partly because you sometimes get so carried away telling him about your day, he worries you might accidentally stumble on the street and he can't have that.

“you read me well,” he admits, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“well it's because i'm just happy to be graced by the presence of the ace of shiratorizawa,” you joke.

“you think too highly of me, you know that?”

“i don't see why I shouldn't,” you retort. “do you want to come in for dinner?”

you assume he's going to refuse since he has to be home in an hour to study and do his homework. and you know better than anyone that he doesn't take a single day off, no matter what. be it hail, sleet, snow or a tornado, ushijima would never rest.

he takes a minute to think till he replies, “yeah sure.”

you mask your shock well, you open the door and let him in. and you can already feel the butterflies in your stomach. maybe you don't view him as a friend, but something more.

02. when you told him he was boring. it wasn't intentional, no. ushijima is fun but just not without planning out the fun? so when you tell him that you're gonna go out in the rain, he's definitely hesitant to join. you don't force him to join you which he's grateful for.

but when he sees the smile on your face, as raindrops trickle down, he thinks to hell with it. you're awestruck when he does join in, his eyes taped shut, as he lets himself feel each raindrop falling on his skin.

“toshi” you call out, only for his eyes to meet yours, slowly adjusting to the light. you laugh and he thinks he's never heard a better sound.

“i’ve never done this before.t I wouldn't have, if it wasn't for you,” he admits, letting his rigid body go lose.

“don’t go all soft on me big guy,” you retort, a grin on your face.

“i can't help it.”

and you can't help falling in love with him either.

03. when you spent an afternoon in his childhood bedroom. ushijima’s mother had invited the two of you for dinner, telling you to take a look at wakatoshi’s old room.

volleyball and manga posters were lined on the side of his wall, with some of his trophies and pictures with his best friend tendou.

“can’t believe i’m lucky enough to be here,” you joke, a playful smile tugging on your lips.

“can’t believe i’m lucky enough to bring you here,” he responds, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“although I think I should be jealous because from the looks of this bedroom, it feels like you've been dating tendou,” you pointed at the wide array of pictures of the two.

ushijima throws his head back in laughter, “i kept our pictures hidden from mom,” he replies. you knew his mother was a little critical of his choices as a teenager. “wait–” he opened his cupboard and started rummaging through the drawers only to pull out a shoebox.

“this has all of our pictures,” he hands the box to you. you open it, only to find ushijima saving up not only pictures, but movie tickets, little letters you wrote for him, the bracelets you made, the cute doodles you drew on his notebook perfectly cut off alongside birthday cards and a childhood photo that you gave him.

“i never knew you saved all of this stuff,” you whispered. you never took ushijima for the sentimental type, especially not the one to save what you referred to as your ‘romantic garbage.’

“of course I would,” he shrugs. “it might be garbage to you but it meant the world to me and it still does. I save stuff till this day,” he admits.

this man really does catch you off guard, doesn't he?

04. when you were having a difficult time. while he's a world renowned player that definitely has more than enough on his mind given the upcoming championship, all of that becomes irrelevant when he catches you with tears sliding down your face after coming home back early from his practice.

“t–toshi, you're home?” you whisper, quickly trying to wipe the tears of your face. but you've never been a good liar and ushijima can read you with his eyes closed.

“what’s wrong, love?” he asks, immediately cupping your face with his hands, wiping your tears. “is everything okay?”

the dam breaks and he just pulls you into his chest, letting you cry your heart out. he shushes any apologies you cry out. why were you so adamant on thinking that you were a burden to him? burdens are pushed on people against their will and he sure as hell isn't here against his.

and you think, how lucky you are to have wakatoshi around.

05. when you find him drenched from the rain. ushijima was returning from his latest championship and you had already warned him of the thunderstorm ready to rain down on Tokyo. you find him and his suitcase looking as if they've crossed a tsunami on the way to the apartment.

“toshi,” you quickly rush to find a towel to wrap around him. “what happened?” you ask. “did the cab not drop you directly here?”

he smiles sheepishly admitting that he had asked the cab to drop him off fifteen minutes away. when you ask why, he pulls out the flowers and cupcakes he brought from your favorite bakery.

“and I also brought your favorite manga,” he smiles. “i just missed you so much these two months.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes as you hug him, “i missed you too,” you whisper, buried in the crook of his neck. you pull away, “go change quickly now, we can't have our star player being sick. dinner is almost done.”

“i love you, darling,” he says before heading inside.

and just as you thought you couldn't fall in love with ushijima wakatoshi anymore, he manages to prove you wrong.

“I will surround you with a love too deep for words.”

— Mumford & Sons // Rose of Sharon

ding!

. . . miya atsumu. may the world never crumble beneath your feet.

“what’s wrong with ya?”

there’s an unusual silence that follows atsumu’s simple question.

“hey?” he says again, a bit concerned now that you didn’t answer the first time. “what’s wrong? somethin’ on yer mind?”

still, nothing from you.

“hey, y/n.” he tries again, hoping that you will answer this time around. “is somethin’ botherin’ ya? tell me an’ i might be able to help.”

“i don’t know, ‘tsumu.” you confess, and he notices the way your hands tremble as you speak. “i really, really don’t know.”

without another word from atsumu, he engulfs you in a warm embrace. his hold on you is soft—delicate even. it’s times like these that you remember that atsumu wasn’t just that volleyball player who likes to annoy you once you step inside the gym; he wasn’t just the twin of his brother, but he was also his own person, and that person was your friend.

someone you can depend on.

someone you can show your vulnerability to.

someone who’d be there for you for anything.

“yer not alone, y/n. ya always seem ta forget that, but ‘ll always be here to remind you of that.” he coaxes.

that was all it took to have you sobbing in his arms, unable to contain the overwhelming emotions that you had bottled up for who knows how long.

atsumu’s honest attempt to comfort you in the best way he could, the way he knows how. it was hard for him to even see you like this. he may seem like the type to not care for others feelings, but he does; he cares, especially for those who he loves.

“i’m scared.” you confess. “i’m scared of the future, ‘tsumu.”

he listens carefully as you speak your truth. “it’s ok ta be scared, y/n.” he replies as he holds you closer to him. “the uncertain’y of what the future has in store for us may be a bit intimidatin’, but we’ll always have each other, right?”

he says this with a smile. “and we’ll take baby steps, remember? that’s what ya always told me,” he says this happily. “baby steps, an’ we’ll eventually get there.”

you quiet down a bit upon hearing atsumu’s reassuring words. you never pegged him as the type to be able to pull off such a thing, and yet you were internally grateful to be here right now, in his arms, as your sobs soon turned into soft, quiet sniffles.

as atsumu holds you in his arms, he hums a soft tune, noticing that you were calming down. he hopes and prays to the gods out there that may the world never crumble beneath your feet.

but when it does, atsumu will always be by your side.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

ding!

. . . tsukishima kei. sweeter when i’m with you.

“did you even use a recipe—“

“yes, tsukishima. i did.” you answer.

continuing to apply frosting to your freshly baked cupcakes, you did your best to ignore the man in front of you. culinary class was fun, especially if your class was tasked with making a simple dessert for a graded activity. however, it was not that fun when you have a snarky middle blocker who always had a way to get through your nerves—watching you work throughout the process of creating such a sweet dessert.

even your sweet desserts would turn salty whenever he was around.

kei hums, amused by your response. “did you now?” he replies with that all-knowing smirk plastered on his stupidly good-looking face. “and what happened to calling me by my first name?”

“i changed my mind, that’s all.” you shrug, and he has the audacity to be the one frowning in this conversation. “it’s better to keep things professional, tsukishima. wouldn’t you agree?”

he huffs. “whatever,” he murmurs, propping his elbows on the counter, his head resting on his palm as he gazes up at you—just . . . admiring how you skillfully worked with the fluffy strawberry frosting—not that he’d ever admit it out loud, no way.

with the silence that followed, he quickly grew bored. “can i have some?” kei asks, eyes darting toward the strawberries you had cut specifically in the shape of little hearts for decorations.

“i don’t know, can you? what’s the magic word?”

“fuck you.”

“that’s not the magic word,” you coyly said to him. “i guess i’ll just give these extra strawberries to the volleyball team,” the thought wasn’t a bad one either, “maybe even have hinata or kageyama try these cupcakes i made once it’s graded.”

“no,” he says, slightly glaring at you.

now, it’s your turn to be amused. “no? did i hear that correctly, tsukishima?”

“it’s kei to you,” he corrects, softly this time. his expression was no longer stern, but this time, rather, it was one of slight annoyance and even pouting. “and . . . can i please have the extra strawberries?” he tries again, and for the first time in all the time you’ve known him, he looks at you with this soft, endearing look—as if he were some sort of kicked puppy by the street, begging to be adopted.

“see? it doesn’t kill you to be nicer to me,” you say, feeding him a strawberry or two—which he didn’t mind.

from the other stations, your classmates watched with either surprised or puzzled expressions after they’d witnessed your interaction with kei. even your teacher couldn’t help but ask, “are those two. . . ?” to which your classmates couldn’t answer either.

kei is definitely sweeter when he’s with you.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

Atsumu’s irritated.

The kind of irritated that makes him look like he's constantly smelling something foul.

Osamu snickers. “Yer face is gonna stay like that ya scrub.”

“Shaddup.” He grabs his bento and stomps away from the usual lunch spot, away from his friends,

Away from his dumb brother.

He's not even sure he's hungry anymore he's so irritated, and that makes him even more irritated. He knows exactly why he's irritated, too, not that it helps.

It's all because some doe-eyed simp batted her fake eyelashes at 'Samu this morning and asked him to be the subject of a portrait assignment.

Geez, Atsumu was right there!

And then, after the stupid scrub says yes and that frilly little turd skips away, 'Samu turns to him and says

‘Guess that settles it. I've got the better face.’

He’s charging around the school, not sure he's looking for any place in particular…it's just a way to burn through some frustration.

“Whoa, who boiled your bean curd today.”

He stops and whips around ready to bite the head off—

You.

Atsumu gulps; he recognizes you from class but doesn't actually know your name and the last thing he wants to do is berate some innocent and be hung out to dry by Kita because this whole school’s a cesspool of gossip—

“Seriously, Atsumu. You okay?”

He blinks, still grumpy but nods. “Just mah stupid brother.”

“You…wanna talk about it?” you offer unsurely and gesture to the spot on the bench next to you.

“Really?” When you nod reassuringly, he screws up his face. “Why? Ya just tryin’a use me ta get ta someone else on the team?”

“What? No.” You look disgusted and…a little disappointed. “Do people really do that to you?”

Atsumu shrugs, stiffly sitting down with you. “I dunno. Just seems like everyone prefers my brother.”

“All the time? Or did something specific happen?”

Atsumu admits “kinda both.” He tells you how his brother loves to get under his skin and then their friends get it on it, too.

He tells you about the incident this morning.

“You're upset because she asked your brother over you?” When he nods you think for a moment, then offer “I’ll draw you.”

“Ha?!” he gapes.

You nod nonchalantly. “Yeah, I'm in that class...I have that portrait assignment, too."

“And ya don’t have someone yer already drawin’?”

“No.” You lament “I've been dreading it. The last thing I want to do is go up to someone and ask ‘hey can I draw you?’." You cringe. "Gross.”

“What about yer friends er somethin’?”

You give him a flat smirk. “do you want someone to draw you or not?”

He splutters “hu-gchw-we-well yeah but only if ya want ta!” He pouts and crosses his arms. “I don’t want yer pity.” His petulance cracks as you laugh.

For the first time in a long time someone's laughing because of him... Not at him.

“I promise it’s not like that, Atsumu." You smile so genuinely his irritation dissolves. "Really, you're doing me a huge favor."

"Really?" He likes the look of relief in your eyes when you nod, that he was the one who made that happen.

Three weeks later the portraits are put on display. Atsumu's excited to see your final piece. You haven't shown him yet but he had so much fun hanging out with you; he's never felt so seen or appreciated, been so relaxed or so autonomously at ease,

Until his brother makes a comment.

"I dunno, I think ya made it all up." 'Samu smirks. "There's only one Miya among those portraits and it's the better looking twin."

You're not in class today; not answering his texts so he goes to look on his own and sure enough,

His face isn't there.

Where the fuck is the picture you drew?!

He's more than irritated now...

His mood is downright foul.

He avoids interacting with anyone and everyone until he can get to practice and then his irritation doesn't dissipate on the court and it's just building and building turning into error after error--

"Atsumu, someone's here to see you."

He doesn't dare snap at his captain, simply turns and freezes when he sees you at the side of the court.

His anger fades to a grumpy simmer.

"I got your texts," you say with a smile and light flush to your cheeks. "Sorry I didn't respond, I was busy."

"That why yer in such a pissy mood today, 'Tsumu?" Osamu comments from the bench but before Atsumu can react, you beat him to it.

"Excuse me, I'm talking to Atsumu right now."

Everyone stops and looks. Eyebrows raise, and more than a few jaws drop.

With an irritated exhale you turn back to Atsumu and clear your expression. "As I was saying... I'm sorry I didn't respond or tell you ahead of time...I wanted it to be a surprise."

Atsumu's throat is tight as you hand him something that's definitely not a drawing. "What's this?" he sourly mumbles.

Ignoring the snarky murmurs of his team you tap it and explain "it's a letter of acceptance for an art show."

He can hear the joy in your voice and when his gaze shifts up your smile rivals the sun.

"Your portrait is a centerpiece."