#ushioimonth

[stacysmash]

One More Win: Ch 1

@ushioi-fanmonth Prompt: Professional Players Relationship: Ushijima x Oikawa Rating: Explicit (for 2nd ch) Chapters: 1/3

His heart caught in his throat as the ball sprang from his fingertips. It was a wild toss with far more power than he usually used, and it shot like a bullet to the other end of the court. Most of his teammates gaped at it, none of them in any position to try to meet it. That was fine by him, he wasn’t aiming for them.

Like a wave swelling above the ocean’s surface, Ushijima soared up to the net, his eyes focused with his arm raised high. The blockers on the other team scrambled to cut him off, but they were too late. The ball Oikawa sent met Ushijima’s hand, and it ricocheted off his palm with a bang and smacked against the court on the other side of the net.

Oikawa closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Breathing deep, he soaked in the melody of triumph screaming all around him. It was delicious; as addicting as a drug and he had no intention of quitting it.

He was startled from his reverie as his teammate pounced on his back and rudely scruffed up his hair. He laughed regardless; it was sweaty anyway from the grueling game they had just won. One by one, he hugged his teammates or gave them a high-five, exchanging a nice receive for a nice toss.

Gradually, he made his way to the center, the place where they always met. His brown eyes met Ushijima’s calm green ones and he felt the mayhem of the stadium blur and quiet to a gentle hush. Oikawa puffed out his chest and gifted Ushijima with a cocky grin. Ushijima shook his head, his lips curled up in a slight smile. They were long past old resentments and misunderstandings, but Oikawa wasn’t the type to melt into sappiness. At least, not without a little provocation to start.

Read the rest on AO3!!

[stacysmash]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

@ushioi-fanmonth Week 2: First Kiss Relationship: Ushijima x Oikawa Sequel to A Fighting Chance (Rated M for graphic violence) Rating: Teen

Excerpt Below (spoilers for A Fighting Chance):

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, or even what was happening to him. Time seemed to have no meaning as his mind wavered between violent, blinding visions and complete darkness, terrifying and calming at the same time. Voices floated beyond his straying consciousness; some he couldn’t recognize while others were as familiar as the back of his hand.

Only one was constant; sometimes he sounded worried, other times comforting. Whatever Oikawa’s mood at the time, his voice was like a tempting lure, guiding him out of his own mind. He was scared of what he’d find when he finally woke up, but the desire to talk to Oikawa and make sure he was alright buried his fear deep where it couldn’t stop him.

He tried opening his eyes, but they felt like someone had glued them shut. Oikawa’s voice swept over him in a familiar melody. It took him a moment to place the pop song that had been top of the charts just before the Cephs arrived on Earth. It was difficult to recognize since the song itself had been energetic and hopeful. The way it translated into Oikawa’s absentminded hum made it sound melancholy, like an old-fashioned lullaby.

As he listened and homed in on Oikawa’s voice, he realized their bodies were pressed together on what felt like a stiff cot; one in the medical unit, he assumed. It was cozy and warm, and he hoped that when he finally stirred that Oikawa wouldn’t leave him. His partner in the field was always like a skittish wild animal that he regularly fed from his hand. Oikawa trusted him by this point, down to his core. He always kept a wall erected between them, however, whenever it came to anything more intimate than fighting murderous aliens.

With consciousness, however, came the overwhelming pain from his shoulder. His dry throat burned as he groaned, and he chided himself harshly when Oikawa’s soothing voice stopped suddenly. Desperate for him to stay, he turned his face and buried it against Oikawa’s chest, reaching his free hand up to grip at any part of Oikawa’s shirt.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” Oikawa said, shifting on the cot but not moving away to his relief. Long fingers stroked through his hair, drifting down the back of his head. The gentle touch didn’t stop, moving on to his jaw and across his cheek to cup his face. “Ushijima,” Oikawa whispered against his forehead.

He could no longer hold back, dwelling in the comfortable dark, and wrenched his eyes open. It took several blinks to clear his vision but when he did, Oikawa’s radiant smile greeted him.

“I’m not dead, am I?”