An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Day 7: Free Theme
“Say,” Oikawa said, taking his time with the buttons. “If someone paid you enough, would you come after me?” he asked. There was a long pause where Oikawa listened to Ushijima breathe.
“It depends,” Ushijima finally answered, his voice deep and quiet. “There's a lot of things to consider when it comes to assassination.” Oikawa chewed on his lip.
@ushioi-week
I was doing so good until the last day! It’s finally up though, and so many thank you’s to everyone who showed support!
For the two people interested. Ya, I do intend to finish UshiOi week. Ya, I know what happens and ya, I have it started. But school is a bitch so I might take another day or so before it’s up. Sorry to anyone’s who’s waiting. I’ll try my best to make the delay worth it.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
'Wakatoshi,' Oikawa thinks as the ball sinks into the tips of his fingers, a familiar and sadistic weight, 'if you don't slam this in I'll rip your throat out right here on this court.'
I planned on bringing the overall title for this week into play for this prompt. Didn’t do that. Now it means nothing. :/
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“We don't only work through violence,” Ushijima pressed.
“But that's what you're known for. Papa hired you because you have a reputation for brute force,” Oikawa pointed out. Ushijima looked somewhat pleased.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Day 2: Making Up
“How long did you think about that before you just said it?” Oikawa growled. Ushijima tipped his head to try and pull away but Oikawa kept his hold firm.
“I don't know. Since you left,” he admitted. “I was worried and you never texted me back.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Day 1: Royalty
"Shigeru, what do you think of my new bodyguard? His name is Ushijima and papa spent a loooot of money on him," Oikawa said, pulling a thin slice of apple away from the whole and offering it to his aide.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Did you hear me?” Thick fingers dig into Shirabu's hair and turn his head so their eyes meet.
“Oikawa can't serve for shit when he lets someone get to him,” Shirabu huffs. He tries to get out of Ushijima's grip but the brunet doesn't let him go.
Shirabu and Kawanishi give each other infinite hell.
Shirabu cleared his throat and the line of eyes moved to him. He thought he caught a few raised brows, and some tiny first year right at the end of the line fidgeted nervously. Oh, this would be a long year.
By the time they were getting ready to meet the new first years, Shirabu and Kawanishi had had plenty of time to get used to captaincy. Ushijima had been generous (Tendou had quietly accused him of being fussy) with handing over the reigns. Ushijima had told them what to watch for, who to keep an eye on, what he himself would turn his focus to if he were staying.
Honestly, Shirabu had appreciated it, but not because he necessarily wanted that much help. He thought he was perfectly capable of reading this team on his own. That was part of his job as a setter, after all. He kept it to himself, and promised Ushijima he had everything under control after the graduation ceremony.
Shirabu reminded himself of that promise as he looked over the line of first years. Well, he was looking at them, but they were looking at Kawanishi, their expressions intense and nervous and very much expecting him to spout out something intelligent or inspiring. He looked at the blond, who looked right back at him with thinly veiled panic. Shirabu cleared his throat and the line of eyes moved to him. He thought he caught a few raised brows, and some tiny first year right at the end of the line fidgeted nervously. Oh, this would be a long year.
Kawanishi smirked as he pulled on his shirt. Shirabu wasn't even looking at him, glaring into his locker instead, but he could feel that stupid smirk. Shirabu gave up on trying to fold his uniform slacks and just stuffed them into his bag with one hand while he flicked his locker closed with the other.
“They thought you were the captain...” he growled to himself.
“They sure did,” Kawanishi tugged his shirt down and played with the zipper of his bag before closing it. “I don't know why. You clearly have more of your shit together.”
“Why,” Shirabu didn't respond to Kawanishi's comment because he thought it was a given. The taller blond straightened up and gave Shirabu a long, intense stare. Shirabu frowned deeply at him and met his eyes while he dug in his pocket for his keys.
“You have a vice captain vibe about you,” he finally said. His head bobbed a bit like he had managed to come up with something profound.
Something, Shirabu thought, Kawanishi had magnificently failed to do when faced with a handful of freshmen, one of whom couldn't even find the right gym until Goshiki had gone to rescue him. At least Shirabu could count on his new ace, if not his vice captain. Goshiki had barely looked put out when he reported that he'd found the first year in the midst of the very confused women's basketball team.
“That's bullshit.” Kawanishi laughed at the biting tone and set the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “You're talking about yourself. If I left you alone for one day everything would go to hell.”
“There's like seven new kids and they all looked at me like I knew what I was doing,” Kawanishi replied. Shirabu could hear the edge of apprehension in Kawanishi's joking tone.
“First of all, there's nine, so I can't even give you points for only being off by one. Second, that's not something new,” he sighed. Kawanishi shrugged and held the door open for him, then waited while Shirabu locked it behind them. “Goshiki still does that and he's a second year.”
“Yeah, if anyone, he should know that we barely have a better idea of what's going on than he does.” Kawanishi said as he watched Shirabu put his keys away and then followed him across campus towards the front gates.
“You're underestimating me,” Shirabu huffed. Kawanishi hummed, and Shirabu could feel him smirking again.
“Really? I thought you took notes when Ushijima rambled that huge to do list at us before he left.”
“I did not,” Shirabu pressed. Kawanishi slowed his gait to match Shirabu's shorter one and leaned down at the waist to the smaller blond's eye level.
“Mental notes count. I can see when you talk to yourself.” Shirabu reached out and pushed at Kawanishi's cheek.
“I don't talk to myself.”
“Maybe when you sleep. You're very chatty.” Shirabu rolled his eyes.
“I- whatever,” he huffed. There was a pause as they looked down the street before crossing. “Is it really noticeable?”
“Sometimes I make up a dub for it,” Kawanishi admitted. Shirabu's brow furrowed and he muttered something Kawanishi couldn't catch under his breath. Suddenly, he turned his head up and caught Kawanishi smirking at him again.
“If I find any of those first years dubbing me I'm coming after you,” he warned. Kawanishi tried to act like he didn't think Shirabu was serious.
“Me? Not them?” Shirabu's stare hardened.
“They don't know better.”
“I'll say. They don't even know you're the captain.” For a couple seconds he really thought Shirabu would hit him and shuffled away a few steps just to be safe. Still, he laughed at the memory of the entire line of first years snapping their attention from him to Shirabu with poorly hidden surprise.
“They'll figure that out soon enough,” Shirabu said, mostly to himself and picked up his pace a little to catch up with Kawanishi.
“That sounds like a threat. You shouldn't threaten little first years. You'll make them run away,” he teased.
“They'll know I'm the captain then, won't they? Then what's wrong with it?” Shirabu settled into step, walking with his shoulders straight. Kawanishi recognized it as something Shirabu did when he was feeling short but still wanted to be intimidating. The first years had no idea what was coming for them.
My buddy @jojolightningfingers made an offhanded comment about how Ikejiri’s little internal monologue about Daichi and then this happened. Pretty fluffy, non-serious romance stuff.
“Sorry,” Ikejiri said. He was whispering. He didn't know why. It just felt right with Daichi so close to his face. Daichi laughed quietly. Ikejiri giggled and couldn't resist grinning when Daichi cupped his face in his hands.
“Don't move so much,” Daichi said.
Ikejiri's fingers are shaking in the cool sheets beneath him. He's perched on the very edge of the bed and he can't stop thinking about the mattress digging into the backs of his thighs. Daichi was making himself comforable, so close to his side that Ikejiri could feel his warmth all down the length of his arm and thigh. The other boy shifted; their knees touched and Ikejiri flinched away.
“You're sure you're okay with this?” Daichi asked. Ikejiri nooded stiffly and turned to bring one leg up on the bed to face the other boy. He was so jealous of Daichi. He looked so calm and open and handsome that it made something warm twist in his gut. Daichi was just sitting there, right next to him, looking so relaxed like nothing was even happening. Like Daichi hadn't come up and told Ikejiri that he'd been thinking lately, that he thought Ikejiri's freckles were cute. Daichi was so smooth and confident Ikejiri couldn't even really remember how he'd talked him into coming over and seeing what this whole kissing business was about after they had finished their homework. (Daichi was so faultlessly responsible and reliable and honestly, how could a person so nice even exist?)
Daichi's fingers curled around his own. His hand was warm and calming and soon Ikejiri turned his own hand in his grip. Daichi squeezed his fingers and leaned in.
Ikejiri's first instinct was to stiffen his back and lean away. He fought it, but he still moved back somewhat. Daichi's lips caught the corner of his mouth. A thrill went through Ikejiri at the first touch. Daichi's lips were soft, only slightly wet on his skin where he'd licked his lips before.
They both tried to compensate and the second kiss landed further on Ikejiri's opposite cheek.
“Sorry,” Ikejiri said. He was whispering. He didn't know why. It just felt right with Daichi so close to his face. Daichi laughed quietly. Ikejiri giggled and couldn't resist grinning when Daichi cupped his face in his hands.
“Don't move so much,” Daichi said. His voice was deep and low. His hands were warm on Ikejiri's face and in his hair. Daichi leaned in again while Ikejiri couldn't move away.
A kiss on the cheek was nothing like a kiss on the mouth. A shiver went through him, down his spine and settling in his belly. The kiss lasted only a couple seconds before Daichi pulled back. They met eyes and it took Ikejiri several seconds to realize Daichi was double checking that he was okay with this.
“It's nice,” He said. They were still whispering, but he couldn't stop. Daichi nodded, looking as giddy as Ikejiri felt. They met again. Daichi caught him with his mouth open and his tongue brushed along his bottom lip. Ikejiri gasped at the feeling but Daichi tightened his grip on his head and kept him still as he slipped his tongue into his mouth.
Ikejiri took in a deep breath through his nose as Daichi licked into him. He closed his eyes, focused on moving his tongue with Daichi's while trying to make room for another tongue in his mouth.
It wasn't bad, but it was somewhat strange. Daichi didn't taste like anything in particular, and his mouth was soft and warm on his own. Ikejiri could feel the other boy's breath on his cheek, little puffs as Daichi pulled in short breaths between quiet, sucking kisses.
Daichi tipped his head with a low hum and moved even closer. Ikejiri huffed softly, gently trying to press Daichi's tongue back with his own. The other boy's fingers tightened in his hair and pulled it at his temples.
Ikejiri couldn't breathe as well as he wanted to and now Daichi seemed to be getting too close. He panted as well as he could. His heart started jumping in his chest and when Daichi didn't back off immediately he started to panic. Ikejiri strained backwards with a low whine and fit his arm between them to push at Daichi's chest.
It took only a little push for Daichi to come back to himself and jerk away. They both stared at each other, panting over each other's cheeks.
“Sorry,” Daichi said after several tense seconds. He dropped his hands and sat up straighter, out of Ikejiri's face. Ikejiri shook his head, reached out and gripped a handful of Daichi's shirt at his chest when it looked like the other boy would move away from him.
“I'm fine. I just couldn't breathe and I guess...I got nervous,” he admitted. Daichi sighed and after a little hesitation wrapped his arms around Ikejiri's waist.
“This is okay though?” He asked. Ikejiri leaned into him and savored the warm feeling in his chest.
“It's all okay. I like this,” Ikejiri hummed. He slid his arms up Daichi's back. They remained like that for several seconds, then Daichi turned his head and pressed his lips to the side of Ikejiri's neck. Ikejiri hummed and pushed on one of Daichi's sides until he followed him over and they both lay on their sides.
“No more?” Daichi asked. He didn't sound upset or petulant, but rather like he was asking Ikejiri if he were really sure if he didn't want an extra half hour of practice. Ikejiri stretched a little in Daichi's grip and drummed his fingers on the other boy's back.
“Later, definitely,” he sighed. Daichi chucked and pulled him in tight against his chest until Ikejiri wheezed, his face tucked affectionately in his shoulder.
I read chapter 189 and had to write this. No spoilers. I’m happy I finally found an excuse to write Tendou because I’ve wanted to pretty much from the moment he showed up.
“You're gonna play in the Olympics someday, right?” Tendou felt a shiver run down his spine when he found that familiar look of focused aggression settled on him.
“Yes. If I can be an ace here, I can be an ace for the Olympic team.”
Tendou only got into watching the Olympics in college. He hadn't given it much thought before that. He never watched sports much in high school; he got all the athleticism he could stomach through Shiratorizawa's grueling practices and had preferred to fill his spare time with manga instead.
But Ushijima went to college for Tokyo and almost immediately, he had fallen in with two guys who were bigwigs in high school volleyball as well. It was maybe three weeks after moving to Tokyo before Ushijima texted him an address at six in the morning and told him he was renting an apartment with some people named Kuroo and Bokuto. Tendou recognized the names from volleyball, and honestly he couldn't find it in him to be surprised and merely wished Ushijima luck in finding roommates who were just as into volleyball as himself.
It was another several months before Tendou found the time to actually make the trip down there to visit. He remembered thinking the place was small for three guys, but it was close to campus and the neighborhood was nice enough to make him a little jealous compared to his own residence.
He knocked and someone called for him to just come in. As soon as he opened the door he was met with the familiar sounds of shoes squeaking on a court and a muted roar of a crowd. He made his way to the living room and saw one roommate (by the hair, he recognized him immediately as Bokuto) parked in front of the tv, a beer clutched in one hand and his hair in another. He was standing utterly still besides for some kind of fast, nervous breathing through a particularly long volley. Tendou circled around Bokuto and saw that the game was the men's finals between Russia and Brazil.
Ushijima and Kuroo were in the wide doorway between the kitchen and the living room watching (or more listening) to the game over Bokuto's shoulder. They were talking to each other until Tendou had set his bag down by the couch and approached them.
“Who do you think?” Ushijima asked him. Tendou pondered over the question long enough for Kuroo to reach out and shake his hand before he realized he was talking about who would win the game.
“Shit, I don't know. I don't keep up with this,” he said. He glanced at the tv then hopped in place in some lazy recreation of Brazil's synchronized attack. “Brazil looks flashier so I'll root for them.” Kuroo chuckled at the show as Ushijima turned and pulled another beer out of the fridge. Tendou took it from him and twisted the cap off with another bit of flair.
“Russia has it,” Ushijima told him. Bokuto, who had ignored them thus far, hissed and turned at the hips only enough to point at them with his beer hand.
“Brazil! Brazil is gonna win or I'll write my next lit paper in Russian!” He exclaimed. Kuroo threw his head back and laughed.
“There's a hundred reasons why Lev wouldn't help you. Mostly the fact that he doesn't know a letter of Russian.” Bokuto gasped and now he pulled his eyes away from the tv. Ushijima grinned.
“You're gonna have a fun weekend,” he said and the audacity of the whole thing left Tendou gasping for air.
Russia took the fifth set to Bokuto's dismay. After much teasing on Kuroo's part and begging on Bokuto's, they all agreed that Bokuto would sacrifice one of his shirts to spray paint and substitute his punishment by wearing the Russian flag for the next week. Tendou was more than happy to join in on giving Bokuto a hard time, but found it somewhat bewildering that Ushijima was just as involved.
Six months ago, Ushijima had been his typically reserved self right after their graduation ceremony. His expression had been almost dour as he listened to Goshiki proclaim he would become a better ace than Ushijima ever was and ignored how Shirabu puffed up at his side, quiet only because he would break and start to cry if he opened his mouth. Amidst it all, Ushijima had stayed calm and seemingly detached as always and Tendou had remembered thinking that anyone looking at their group from the outside would have probably thought Ushijima didn't care about any of it, about any of them.
Watching him now as he talked with his roommates, Tendou thought him barely recognizable. He had come out of his shell so much in so little time he wondered if Miyagi had stifled him without anyone knowing.
“You're gonna play in the Olympics someday, right?” Tendou asked. He had tossed the question out without much thought.
“Of course!” Bokuto announced, looking almost smug and proud of himself. Kuroo dug his elbow into Bokuto's side but Ushijima's expression changed. Tendou felt a shiver run down his spine when he found that familiar look of focused aggression settled on him.
“Yes. If I can be an ace here, I can be an ace for the Olympic team.”
Tendou thought about that answer as he flipped the channel to the Olympic broadcast before he even loosened his tie or took off his shoes off after coming home from work. He had made it in time to catch the tail end of the men's finals.
This year Japan was playing Russia. Tendou grinned to himself as Ushijima went up to serve and slammed the ball over the net so hard the camera's audio picked up the echo of the impact over the murmur of the crowd. At thirty-four, they were probably both too old to be playing volleyball the same way they had in high school. Tendou knew for a fact that Ushijima had injured his left shoulder more than once, but the redhead also knew that, if anything, Ushijima was playing more brutally now than he ever did when they were younger.
The possession changed and Tendou shrugged off his coat. He reached into his pocket for his phone and it started vibrating as he pulled it out.
“That would be Shirabu~” he hummed to himself, flipping it open to read the new text.
'Are you seeing this?' It was Shirabu, of course, and Tendou didn't even have to ask to know he was watching the same game.
'u cant blame him 4 getting worked up 4 finals' The reply came a few seconds later.
'He's going to tear his shoulder all to hell again!' Tendou took the time to change and settle into the couch. Ushijima had rotated up front and spiked right through Russia's block. Tendou pulled out his phone again.
'its worth it if he brings you a gold right??' He could see Shirabu start typing, then pause for several seconds.
'You know how bad he is about not resting an injury.'
'then his setter is tossing 2 him 2 much?' The next response was instant.
'No' Tendou laughed. Shirabu's attitude as a setter had never changed. As long as Ushijima still wanted to spike, he got as many tosses as he needed. The final set was over in another few minutes. Japan had won gold.
'yaay~ I would tell you not 2 worry but i'm sure you will fuss over him anyways. I'll come by with drinks when you get back in sendai make room cause i'm calling everyone~' Tendou ignored Shirabu's attempts to talk him out of that while he scrolled down to Ushijima's number.
If anyone is going to make me disgust myself with fluff, it’s going to be DaiSuga. Also no one can convince me that they wouldn’t continue to adopt people after high school.
“What do you have to do today?”
Suga was stretched out on his side in their bed. When he moved, the sheets bundled up around his hips. Daichi sipped at his coffee and stared at the mole just to the left of Suga's navel, and the bruised ring around it. He padded across the room and sat on the edge of the mattress at Suga's belly, setting his mug on the night stand before running his hand up his partner's side.
“So?” Suga pressed. He reached under his pillow and pulled his phone from under it, tapping at the screen. Daichi hummed.
“The kids have a practice game.” A smile pulled at Suga's lips but his eyes never left his phone as he read something.
“That's not until this afternoon though, right?”
“Yeah.” Suga stuffed his phone back under the pillow and reached for Daichi's coffee in one fluid motion. Daichi huffed at him. He told himself he was being decent by waiting until Suga had the mug safely back on the night stand before pinching his side. “I like how you talk about them.”
“They're my kids though,” Daichi pressed. Suga's nose scrunched up at the sting and he rolled onto his stomach.
“Only three times a week.” He huffed as Daichi shifted to straddle his hips. He stayed very still aside from crossing his arms under his chin and Daichi knew he was trying to play hard to get.
“Every week,” Daichi added and leaned over, warm and heavy at Suga's back. “For what... three or four months?” Suga hummed lowly and Daichi pressed a string of open mouthed kisses across the backs of his shoulders.
“I might be getting jealous,” Suga announced. Daichi grinned and nipped at the nape of his neck.
“You, of all people, would not be jealous of a pack of elementary kids.” Daichi stopped mouthing at Suga's skin and pressed his nose in the crook of Suga's shoulder, breathing him in for a few seconds. “It's cute when they call you Mom sometimes,” Daichi whispered in his ear. Suga groaned, hiding his face in his pillow.
“I'm not old enough for any kids, much less an entire bunch that's old enough to read!”
Daichi laughed and sat up again. “Sorry but I think they've already adopted you. You're just as stuck with them as I am.” he said. He easily gripped Suga's shoulders in both hands to knead at them until Suga purred beneath him. “Will it make you feel better if I take you out for breakfast?” Suga shook his head.
“I'll only forgive you for burdening me with motherhood if you make me an omelette,”
“You know I suck at omelettes,” Daichi frowned. Suga arched his back under him and turned his head to give him a wicked grin.
“I know. It's funny to see you try,” he said. Daichi sighed and rolled off the bed, grabbing his mug as he headed to the kitchen, Suga chuckling behind him.
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