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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

Text

Deserving

Pairing/setting: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Female!Team Manager!Reader, canonverse in their third year at Shiratorizawa (so, they’re both 18)

Summary: When Ushijima spikes a ball into your face, the least he can do is take you to the nurse. And the hospital. ...And fend off your gross ex-boyfriend?

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: face injury, concussion, fluff, kissing, toxic ex-boyfriend, teensiest threat of violence

AN: Hello my lovelies, have some fluffy Ushiwaka for your Wednesday evening! I have to admit I’m not entirely satisfied with this one, but it’s reaching the point where I might never be, so you get it now:) BIG BIG BIG thanks to my editors who I would literally commit treason for, @ghostlightprincess, @doinmybesthere, and @ackermans-freedom-inc, and to the lovely friends over at Haikyuu HQ for their comments and encouragements!! PLEASE PLEASE feel free to drop into my inbox (DMs or asks!!) to let me know what you think. Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

The volleyball smacking you directly in the face isn’t the worst thing that happened today, but it is the most painful, in the literal sense. The impact sends you tripping backward to land directly on your ass on the hardwood floor of the gym, as you bring both hands to your face instinctually.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Akakura jogs over from where he’d been keeping score, leaning down with hands on his knees to peer at you.

The rest of the gym falls silent, shoes squeaking to a stop and the offending ball’s bounce echoing to stillness.

“Ow,” squeaks out from between your lips as your eyes screw shut to keep from crying. You feel hot, wet blood begin to drip from your nose and through your fingers and down your chin.

The silence is broken when Tendō begins to crack up, wheezing and cackling from across the court. “Ushi-Ushiwaka, look what your spike did to our poor pretty manager! You big brute!” he descends further into a fit of giggles as Coach Saitō strides over from the bench and crouches down next to you.

“Akakura, go get the first aid bag,” he instructs, then directs his attention to you, putting a stabilizing hand on your shoulder. “You alright? That was a direct spike to the face, no wonder you’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, I, um,” you open your watery eyes and tilt your head back like your mom always told you to do with a nosebleed. Your voice is nasally and you’re breathing through your mouth. “I should go to the nurse, right?”

He nods. “Make sure they check you for a concussion, too. I’ll get someone to go with you. Here,” he looks out to the players, who have started to drift in your direction, looking concerned. Except for Tendō, who’s wiping away tears of mirth as he hangs off Ushijima’s shoulder. “Yunohama, you can take her—”

“I’ll take her.” It’s Ushijima who interrupts, shrugging off his best friend and stepping forward. “It’s my fault, I was overzealous.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you begin to wave him off, turning to Akakura who’s handing you gauze to stop the bleeding, but he interrupts you again in that stoic bass of his.

“I insist.”

And so it’s decided. Akakura helps you staunch the bleeding, then hands you wipes to clean up your hands. All the while, you feel Ushijima looming over the pair of you on the floor as Coach Saitō tells the rest of the team to quit gawking and start serving drills. It’s not that you don’t like the team captain; as the manager, you’ve spent countless hours in his company over the last three years and have grown to know him pretty well. It’s just that, well... he never quite ceases to be intimidating, and he did just spike a ball into your face.

When you’re sufficiently cleaned up, you start to fold your legs under you to stand up on your own, but Ushijima’s already there, gripping your waist in his big hands and helping you up.

“Thank you,” you murmur when you’re on your own two feet, then sway dangerously when you’re hit with a wave of dizziness.

“Whoah,” Coach exclaims, reaching out an arm, but Ushijima’s already there again, catching you against his side with an arm around your shoulder.

“I’m okay!”

You’re not okay. You try to take a step, gently pulling away from him, but then the dizziness hits you tenfold and your knees buckle.

When your vision clears, he’s carrying you bridal style out of the gym, carefully maneuvering so that your head doesn’t hit the doorframe.

“Shit, sorry about that, Ushijima.” You pick your head up from his shoulder and tuck your arms to your chest, careful not to touch his.

“Don’t apologize,” he rumbles, glancing down at you with his serious green eyes. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sorry about that spike.”

“No, no, I wasn’t paying attention,” you wave your hand dismissively. “I’ve been... distracted recently.”

“Agree to disagree.”

As you cross campus, afternoon sun glaring down, you can feel eyes on the pair of you and hear whispers from some people. You understand why. Ushijima’s a big name, even on home turf. Why is he carrying you? And why do you look like you lost a fight with a golf club?

“I, uh, I can walk, you know,” you try, glancing up at him.

He makes a disgruntled sound and adjusts you in his arms. “Don’t be stupid. You just fainted.”

“I didn’t faint, I... passed out. There’s a difference. And don’t call me stupid.” Your tone is defensive, only because your pride is on the line here. This is embarrassing, objectively, being carried through campus so conspicuously. And it’s embarrassing to catch a ball to the face when you should know better.

“If you say so.” He almost sounds indulgent. “You’re still not walking.”

You huff and look away, only to catch a pair of second years sitting under a tree, looking at you and whispering behind their hands. You groan and tilt your head back, massaging a temple. As if the rumors about what happened this morning weren’t enough, now there’ll be... whatever this is.

“Fuck my life.”

“You have a foul mouth,” he comments, pushing open the door to the main administrative building at last.

“It’s part of my charm.”

When you get to the nurse’s office, he still doesn’t put you down, even when you glare at him pointedly. He only blinks down at you and asks you to knock on the door.

It opens, and the nurse takes a long look at your bloodied face before heaving a deep sigh and standing aside to let you in.

“Put her there, Casanova,” she instructs, pointing at the cot with crisp white sheets in the corner.

While she snaps on disposable gloves, Ushijima sets you down gently on the cot, like you’re made of glass. He sits in a chair by the door to wait.

“So what was it?” the nurse begins, plopping down in her rolling desk chair and rolling up to you. “Baseball to the face?”

“Volleyball, actually.” You lean forward so she can start peeling away the gauze plastered to your nose. Your whole head hasn’t stopped rhythmically throbbing, and you close your eyes against the renewed pain in your nose, even though her fingers are practiced and gentle.

“Ah, volleyball.” She glances over her shoulder at Ushijima. “Did he spike it right into your face, or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you laugh breathlessly. “Not on purpose.”

“I should hope not. Have you experienced any dizziness?”

“Not really—”

“She fainted.”

Your exasperated gaze cuts to Ushijima across the room. He’s staring at you resolutely, unphased. Snitch.

“Hence the carrying?” The nurse’s tone is slightly teasing, but she looks more concerned than before.

“I could’ve walked. He just wouldn’t put me down.”

The last layer of gauze is cautiously peeled away, revealing only a slow trickle of crimson left. The nurse hums, her brow pinching.

“I can’t be entirely sure until the swelling goes down, but it does look broken. If I was a betting woman, I’d say pretty badly.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen, pleading.

She nods. “Sorry, sweetie. I just need to check for a concussion, and then you should call your parents for them to take you to the hospital so you can get it set.”

“Okay.” You slouch dejectedly, risking a glance over at Ushijima, who’s looking dourer by the second. You send him a reassuring smile (even though it makes your nose sting), then look down at your hands in your lap. This is turning out to be a bigger mess than you’d hoped.

The nurse gently tapes more gauze over your nose, infinitely more neatly than you and Akakura had managed to do, then leans back to dispose of her gloves and the old gauze in a trash can.

“Alright, look at my finger,” she holds up a finger in front of you, “and follow it with your eyes.” She moves it up and down, then side to side, then leans forward to look for a size difference in your pupils. “Your pupils are even, which is good, but your eye tracking does worry me a little bit.”

“Do I have a concussion?” God, that would suck. You have so much to do before the next tournament, and there’s no way you’ll get it all done if you have to slow down because of your stupid brain.

“I’m not qualified to diagnose,” she holds up her hands. “But no driving, watching TV, reading, or using your computer or phone until you see a doctor. And you should call your parents now.”

“My, uh, parents are out of town? I’ll just call my doctor and make an appointment.” You rub the polyester of your track pants absentmindedly as you glance at the clock on the wall. “The next bus leaves in twenty minutes, I can—“

Both the nurse and Ushijima speak over you:

“You shouldn’t take the bus by yourself if you’ve been fainting—”

“I’ll take you.”

You both turn to look at Ushijima in surprise. He looks completely serious (like he always does), olive eyes fixed on you.

You let out a long breath and close your eyes against the pounding of your head. “Ushijima, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking.”

You crack your eyes open to stare him down with your tried and true “Tendō, if you do not settle down right now I will tell Coach what exactly happened at training camp last summer” glare. It doesn’t seem to shake him. The nurse looks back and forth between you like she’s watching a particularly exciting volley.

You crack first.

“Fine. But I’m walking this time.”

He nods.

“You crazy kids,” the nurse starts laughing, rolling back to her desk and shaking the mouse so her computer monitor lights up. “Come see me tomorrow if you need forms for class exemption.”

“Okay. Thank you for your help.”

Goshiki comes running up to you from the direction of the volleyball gym when you’re crossing the student parking lot, holding up your school bag.

“Here, you left this,” he pants, holding it out to you and looking slightly queasy at the state of your nose. “Are you, uh, okay?”

You take your bag from him and swing it over your shoulder. “Thank you, Goshiki. I’m really alright, we’re just going to the hospital to make sure I don’t have a concussion.”

His eyebrows raise, looking between you and Ushijima, who’s hovering at your elbow as though he expects you to collapse any second now.

“The hospital! Wow. But, uh,” he turns to address his team captain, “Coach Washijō wants you back at practice, like, five minutes ago.”

“Tell him I’ll be missing the rest of practice. She needs a ride.”

“B-but,” Goshiki stutters, “you can’t possibly expect me to tell Coach that. He’ll skin me!”

Ushijima drops a hand on his junior’s head and gently ruffles his carefully styled hair. “He will not skin you.”

Goshiki looks ready to combust, sputtering and ducking away to smooth down his hair again, but before he can argue further, you lean in conspiratorially.

“Think about it,” you stage whisper, causing his eyes to flick to yours. “Now’s your chance to prove you can be Shiratorizawa’s next Great Ace while this big brute’s busy babysitting me.” You jerk your thumb at Ushijima.

Realization dawns on Goshiki’s face, then he’s nodding while backing away. “Right! I’ll go do that! Good luck with your nose!”

“Attaboy!” you cheer as he turns and jogs away, then wince at the renewed pain in your head it brings.

Ushijima chuckles and starts walking to his car again.

“You always seem to know what to say to get us to do what you want,” he observes, opening the passenger side of his blue SUV for you.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

He helps you up, his hand on your elbow, then shuts the door when you’re all the way in. You slide your backpack off your shoulder to sit between your feet and lean your head back against the headrest.

The ride to the hospital is only about twenty minutes, and you’d called ahead to make an appointment. This shouldn’t take too long, an hour and a half, tops, and then you’ll make it back in time for dinner. Well, if your face isn’t too fucked up, that is.

Ushijima folds himself into the driver’s seat and starts the car. As he’s backing out of the parking space, turned around with one hand on the back of your seat, he says, “You said you’ve been distracted recently. Why?”

“Oh, well, uh,” you wave a dismissive hand, “it’s nothing important, really.” You’re not sure you can handle rehashing how your morning went, right now. Not with Ushijima, who’ll probably think your problems are petty. Maybe you’d be willing to discuss this with Tendō, who’d at least crack a couple jokes and make you laugh through the pain.

“It’s important if it distracts you from volleyball.”

At this, you laugh. “I suppose you would think that. You really want to know?” You examine your fingernails, picking at the dried blood you’d missed underneath them.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” He turns out of the parking lot.

“True.” You take a deep breath and slouch down in the seat, bringing your knees up so that your feet rest on the dashboard. He gives them a look but doesn’t say anything. “I got broken up with this morning. He didn’t like that I devoted so much time to the team.” You swallow, unable to sniffle through your swollen nose. “Which is, like, totally unfair because he knew what he was getting into when we started dating!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And I really liked him, too,” you mutter to your lap, then turn to watch buildings pass by through watery eyes.

“It was the basketball player, right? I never liked him.” He says it so firmly that you would think your ex was Ushijima’s mortal enemy or something.

“Yeah, uh, Victor. You remembered that? I don’t think I introduced him to the team or anything...”

“We see you walking with him after practice, and he’s in Reon’s biology class.”

You hum thoughtfully, eyeing his profile. You suppose you can understand the team knowing about who you’re dating — they can get pretty protective, sometimes. But Ushijima has always seemed uninterested in that sort of thing. In fact, you thought he never really gave you much mind past your joint duties as manager and captain. Interesting.

“Why don’t you like him?”

“He’s not good enough for you. You deserve better.”

If you could snort, you would. Instead what comes out is a choked scoff.

“He’s not a saint, but neither am I. He was plenty good enough for me.”

“If he was good enough for you, he would have supported your devotion to the team.”

You shake your head, looking out the window again. You suppose he’s right, but that doesn’t make your heart hurt any less. “I just... I really liked him.”

A warm hand lands on your knee and you flinch in surprise, looking down at it. His fingers are long and well-manicured, almost beautiful, and the heat from his palm makes you breathe funny. He pats twice, eyes on the road, then retracts his hand back to rest on the wheel.

The gesture, while oddly fatherly, feels downright tender coming from Ushijima, who hardly ever shows affection to anyone. Your eyes tear up as you send him a small smile.

“Thanks, Ushiwaka.”

“Call me Wakatoshi.”

—

“Fractured bridge, mild concussion,” you report to Ushijima in the waiting area of your doctor’s office. He stands from the uncomfortable-looking chair, worry lines etched between his brows.

“Were they able to set it?” He falls into stride beside you as you walk down the hall towards the elevators.

“No, I have to come back over the weekend. It’s technically surgery, because they put you under anesthesia, but apparently it’s relatively quick.” You stop in front of the elevators and push the down button. You look at the floor, rather than your companion, blinking back frustrated tears you don’t want him to see. You’re not allowed at practice until after surgery, for fear of another ball messing up your nose more. You’re not allowed to do work on your computer, or handwrite, or read, or do practically anything for at least the next week. What can you do? Wallow. Which is what you were going to try to avoid doing by throwing yourself into your work.

Ushijima clears his throat. “I wanted to apologize again—”

“Stop,” you cut him off with a raised hand. “You’ve already apologized. And it was my fault, anyway. Coach told you to practice cut shots and that’s what you did. I should’ve known better than to stand where I was standing.”

He shifts uncomfortably as you lapse back into silence, watching the numbers above the elevator change.

You hold it in until the car. Then, while he’s weaving his way between rows of parked cars, you curl up in the passenger seat and rest your head against the window, hot tears tracking down your cheeks. You cry all the way through town, hiccuping softly over the white noise of the air conditioning. Ushijima has the sense to leave you alone, though you can feel how abnormally tense he is across the space between you.

“I’m just,” you suck in a breath, “worried about falling behind. I have so much to do, for school and for the team, and,” you wipe at your cheeks, “I just don’t know how it’s all going to get done.”

“I’ll help,” he reassures. “And Tendō and Soekawa. We won’t let you fall behind.”

“Really?” You look at him with big eyes. “You’d do that?”

“You already do so much for us, all on your own. It’s our turn to help you.”

“Oh,” you say, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for your team. “Thank you, Wakatoshi.”

“Of course.”

You smile, watery and tenuous, and reach a hand over to squeeze his shoulder. “Really. It means a lot.”

One of his big hands covers yours and squeezes once. Your breathing turns funny again, until he lets it go and you pull your hand safely back to you. You’re staring at it in your lap, heat on your cheeks, until a terrifying thought occurs to you and you whip back around to stare at him.

“But if you let Tendō fuck up my spreadsheets, I’ll break both your noses in revenge.”

A subtle, amused grin cracks across his face. “Noted.”

—

The dining hall is bustling by the time you walk in with Ushijima, not having bothered to drop your things off at your dorm. You duck your head as you walk past tables filled with students to get to the line for food. You can’t tell if they’re staring at your busted face or at Ushijima, who usually manages to turn heads when he walks into a room. Either way, they’re staring, and it makes you fidget nervously with the strap of your school bag.

You take less food than usual, your stomach in knots from the stress of the day, and miss the way Ushijima frowns down at you. It’s when you turn to face the tables again that you realize you’re not sure what comes next. Usually you’d find Victor — sure enough, you can see him at his usual table in the corner with the basketball third years — but obviously, that’s not an option anymore. You could try to find your roommate, but you’re honestly not sure where she sits. You stand still for a moment, then your feet start moving of their own volition. Where to? Hell knows. Just keep moving and it won’t be awkward.

Your salvation comes in the form of Tendō, who springs up from his seat to wrap an arm around your shoulders, steering you to an empty seat at his table with Reon and Semi.

“Sweets! How’s the nose? Wakatoshi grovel enough yet?” He grins, slouching down to your level.

You smile gratefully, sliding into the seat next to his and dropping your school bag to your feet. “Ushiwaka doesn’t need to grovel, it was an accident.”

“Aww,” Tendō whines, splaying himself out across the table towards where Ushijima’s sitting down across from you. “But it would be so amusing!”

Ushijima only grunts and turns his attention to his rice.

“No, but seriously,” Reon leans around back of Tendō, “how’s the nose?” He taps his own for emphasis.

You poke at your food with your chopsticks, then flash him a smile you hope looks honest. “It’s broken and I have a minor concussion. I have to go in on Sunday for them to set it, and I’m not allowed at practice until after that.”

“Man, I’m sorry,” he commiserates between bites of food. “That sucks.”

You shrug. “It is what it is.”

“What a shame,” Tendō sits up and gazes at you with wide eyes, “I always liked your nose. It was cute!”

You swat away his hand that reaches out to hover an inch away from the body part in question, sticking out your tongue. “Who’s to say it’s not still cute, Satori, hmm?”

“A fair counterargument!”

The conversation turns away from you when Semi tells Ushijima that Coach had a fit when he didn’t come back to practice, and so you duck your head and nibble while you listen. Normally, you’d join in on the banter with your friends, but the day has rubbed you raw and you don’t really have it in you to be social more than you have to.

You last twenty minutes before the urge to go back to the solitude of your dorm and cry overwhelms you. You stand up suddenly, hooking your bag over one shoulder and stuttering something about being tired before leaving. You can feel their confused gazes following you as you drop off your half-full tray and head for the door. It’s not fair, exactly, and probably only worries them more, but you simply cannot find it in you to be in the presence of other people anymore.

You’re almost free, just slipped out the door into the darkening dusk behind a group of second years, when a hand lands on your shoulder and someone says your name. You jump and whirl around. It’s Victor, looking concerned and awkward as the door closes behind him. He’s almost as tall as Ushijima — you have to look up to catch his expression.

“What happened to your face?”

You shrug off his hand before answering. “It caught a volleyball.”

He swallows and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Are you, um, okay?”

“Do I look okay?” you whisper hoarsely, a little manic. “I feel like I’m falling apart at the seams, here.”

His eyes grow wide and he takes a cautious step forward. “Is there anything I can do?”

You step back. “Yeah, you can fuck off.” It’s quiet, but stern. You know if you’re any softer with him, he’ll weasel his way back in with soft smiles and long-limbed hugs. He’s done it before and you wouldn’t put it past him to try it again.

“Listen, I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it. Leave me alone.” You turn away, back towards the steps of the dining hall, but he darts around you and spreads his arms to block your way. Damn his long legs. You huff and glare up at him. “Move.”

“No. Listen, I’m sorry—”

“And I said I don’t wanna hear it. Move!” You can hear yourself getting louder with your frustration, voice echoing off the academic buildings around you, and pressure builds in your ears to a dull roar as Victor says something you can’t focus on. Your head hurts, your face hurts, your heart hurts, and you can’t fucking think—

You feel a warm presence at your back an instant before Victor’s mouth stops moving and he looks above your head.

“She said move.” It’s Ushijima. You sigh in relief and step back into him to regain some stability and let your head clear. He puts his hand on your shoulder.

Victor looks between the two of you for a moment. Something you can’t quite place enters his eyes, but he finally steps aside, so you don’t dwell on it, just brush past him and head for the steps.

That is, until, “Guess the rumors were true.”

You stop and turn to face him a few steps down. Ushijima, now slightly ahead of you with one hand on your elbow, stops as well. It dawns on you that you’ve seen this particular gleam of malice in Victor’s eyes before, when he’s about to destroy another team. And suddenly, it all makes sense: this is a game to him.

“What rumors?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Apparently, you’re fucking the whole volleyball team.”

In the next split-second, Ushijima moves fast, as though he’s going to punch him, but you move faster. You slap the back of your hand to his chest to stop him and fix Victor with a sadistic glare of your own.

“Is that so?” Your tone is icy. “What, are you jealous I’d fuck them but never put out for you? Or— oh.” You cover your mouth in mock sympathy. “Worried I told the team how tiny your dick is in comparison?”

His face flushes red, and he lurches forward, hand raised, “You bitch.”

You flinch back, but Ushijima’s there, pushing past your arm to shove him away before he can touch you. He’s slightly taller and much broader than your wiry ex-boyfriend, and has no trouble pinning him to the wall by the door. You follow them, but don’t call him off even as your eyes widen and heart pounds.

Ushijima leans in, face inches from Victor’s and growls the next words, low and threatening. “You do not touch her. You do not look at her. You do not talk about her. Understood?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and your fist clenches around the strap of your school bag. The team may have been protective in the past, collectively looming over opposing players who had the nerve to approach you at tournaments, but Ushijima had never been involved in all that. And really, you’d been grateful for his lack of interference; you can take care of yourself, no matter if the team thinks you’re a delicate flower in need of guarding.

But this is different. This is dangerous. Victor had nearly put his hands on you, had threatened and slandered you in front of him.

They stare each other down for a long moment, chests heaving, before Victor’s face crumples slightly in fear and he wheezes out, “Understood.”

The tension stretches, then breaks when you let out the breath you were holding with a squeak. Ushijima drops his hands from Victor’s shirt and takes a step back, maintaining eye contact. Victor slumps against the wall, clenches his jaw, then drops his gaze to the concrete.

“Come on,” Ushijima growls to you as he turns and tucks you under his arm, finally leading you down the steps.

You don’t look back, even as you hear laughter behind you as another group spills out from the dining hall, just lean subtly into your friend and beat a familiar path back to your dorm. As the adrenaline tapers off, it leaves you tired and even shakier than before, questions swirling around your mind until you manage to latch onto one and keep it there, at the forefront.

You stop walking underneath the giant oak by the back entrance to the girls’ third year dorms. Ushijima stops, too, looking down at you and slipping his arm off your shoulders when he catches your expression: ashen and nervous and contemplative.

“Wakatoshi...” you start, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and peering up at him. Artificial light from a sidewalk lamp casts shadows of oak leaves on his face, shifting and shaking in the mild breeze. “Why did you do that?”

His expression pinches slightly in confusion. He shifts his feet to face you fully before answering. “He was going to hit you. He said you... he said vulgar things about you.” He says it like the explanation’s obvious, like if you look between the cracks in his words you’ll find it sitting there plain as day.

“But... you threatened him.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No,” you concede, settling your weight on one hip and picking at the hem of your track jacket. It doesn’t bother you, oddly. Normally it leaves a bad taste in your mouth when someone pulls a savior act; but this felt honest, and necessary. Victor wouldn’t have backed down, otherwise.

Still, you don’t completely understand.

“It’s just...” You swirl the words around your mouth before letting them flow out. “I’ve never seen you act like that before, with anyone. For anyone. Wakatoshi, I’ve known you nearly three years and never known you to do something like that. You fucking carried me to the nurse, drove me to the hospital, threatened someone on my behalf...” you trail off in bewilderment, mouth open as if an explanation will fall into it.

His shoulders tense, but his bass is as smooth as ever when he asks, “Did you not want me to do those things?”

The explanation falls into your mouth all at once, clumsy and a little awkward, but truthful all the same. “No, I did... want you to do those things.” You take a step closer to him, and if your nose wasn’t so fucked up you would’ve smelled the crispness of the evening mingling with the heady musk of him. “But why did you do them?”

He steps closer as well, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes.

“Pretty girl,” he says, your mouth suddenly very dry as he hooks a finger under your chin, “Must I spell it out for you?”

Everything is still for a moment, save for the light playing across his face and illuminating his serious, green eyes so that you can see flecks of brown in their depths. Your hand leaves the strap of your bag to rest on his shoulder, feeling it tense under layers of polyester. The explanation sits there on the tip of your tongue, waiting, so you push up onto your toes to deliver it. Your chests bump as your mouth meets his softly.

He lets you have control, just shifts his big hand to cradle your jaw and smooth across your cheek as your lips mold together. You’re afraid to go much further, for fear of bumping your nose and making matters worse, but as your eyes flutter closed and his other hand finds a place on your hip, you think this is enough to tell him you understand.

When your head starts to get light from lack of oxygen, you break away from him and gasp, tilting into his body. He catches you there, chin tucked to keep his eyes on your dazed face as you catch your breath.

He rumbles your name and secures an arm around your waist to keep you close. “I don’t... feel this way often,” your fingers bunch the fabric of his track jacket lightly, “but I’ve liked you for a long time. And it makes me sick that you were with him when you could’ve been with me. It makes me sick that he treats you that way. That’s what I meant when I said you deserve better.”

You swallow thickly and rest your free hand on his jaw. It’s wide and slightly scratchy with peach fuzz, grounding you to him when the rest of you feels like you might float away.

“Wakatoshi?”

“Yes?”

Your eyebrows pinch slightly as you think for a moment, searching his eyes. “I really like you, too. But, I just barely got out of a relationship, and I feel like I don’t really have my head on straight? At the moment?” Your head tilts to the side, voice breathy with uncertainty. “So, I guess, I just kind of want to take this”—you gesture between the two of you—“slow. Make sure we do it right.”

“Alright,” he agrees, soft and low, “let’s make sure we do it right.”

You nod, a smile splitting your face and making his eyes turn even gentler. You kiss his cheek, opposite where your hand lies, then pull back and shift away from him. His arm finds a place around your shoulders, rather than your waist, and he turns to walk you the last bit to your dorm.

As you dig out your ID card to access the building, a thought occurs to you as you pause, arm completely inside your bag.

“Wakatoshi?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think my nose will still be cute?”

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushiwaka x reader #haikyuu!! fanfic #hq fanfic #hq x reader #fluff #sports injury #swearing #toxic ex-boyfriend #concussion #valkyrie writes #deserving

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meigh-day · 4 years

Text

Obligation (Tendou x Reader) - Part 11

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Title: Obligation

Pairing: Mafia AU Tendou x F!Reader

Characters: Includes characters from both Shiratorizawa and Seijoh/Some OC background characters

Includes: Swearing, Mentions of Guns/Knives and Violence, Blood

Status: Complete

Word Count: 1.2k

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Tendou let out a heavy sigh, he'd been trying to track down the source of the footsteps for several minutes but hadn't been able to figure out which direction they'd gone. In a house this large it was easy to lose track of people if you weren't immediately behind them and that vulture of a woman had delayed him just long enough that he'd lost the trail before he could ever pick it up. He could only assume it had been a member of the household staff or perhaps one of the many guys that worked security around the manor.

It was pretty late by now but he wondered if you might still be awake. The only thing on his mind now was you. He wanted nothing more than to talk with you, to apologize and beg for the chance to fix this. The screen of his phone indicated it was just after midnight, notifications from all the messages you'd send littered his screen and made his chest hurt. He'd ignored them, merely glancing at the notifications before stuffing his phone away, regret now filled his mind as he started to scroll through your messages. You'd sent him sweet words of encouragement, offers to chat if he needed a break, weird pictures that only he would find amusing, before long his vision was blurred with tears. He wiped the back of his sleeve across his eyes and made up his mind. It didn't matter to him what time it was, he was going to at least go and see if you were awake.

As he crossed the house he tried to think of what he would say to you. Words couldn't fully express how he felt, how sorry he was, how foolish he had been. Even as he stood outside your door, his knuckles gently rapping against the wood, he was still unsure exactly what he would say. Tendou raked a hand through his hair, waiting hopefully outside your door, but no answer came. For a moment he considered just walking in but he didn't want to upset you more than he already had and he certainly didn't want to wake you up or scare you. Eventually, he slowly leaned forward until his forehead pressed softly against the door, one of his large hands pressed flat against the wood.

"Y/N...I don't know if your awake or not but, I need to talk to you." He spoke quietly, whispering against the door, hoping that you might be awake and that by some miracle you would open the door. After a few long seconds of silence, he let out a soft sigh. "It's ok if you aren't ready to see me yet. I wouldn't want to see me either after the horrible things I said but, I am hoping you'll give me a chance....please...." Tendou leaned up, his hand lingering on the door for another moment before he finally turned and started back down the hallway. He didn't even know if you were awake to have heard him but he hoped somehow his words might reach you.

Nanako stood frozen in place, Tendou's threat echoing in her mind as she watched him disappear around the corner. It was the first time she had caught a real glimpse of the monster within and it had her feeling cold all over. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he meant it. Even she knew he wasn't the sort of person to make empty threats. She had to force herself to turn, retreating away from the kitchen with her tail between her legs. With each that took her further and further from the kitchen, those feelings fright slowly started to ebb away as they turned to humiliation and anger. After all the time she had spent trying to cozy up to that red-headed psychopath and this was how she was treated. It was infuriating, if only that damn girl had never come here, if only she had just disappeared. Nanako grumbled as she moved further into the house, soon finding herself passing by the security room just in time to see the door swing open wide.

"Oh hey Nanako!" Yunohama popped his head out of the doorway, a charming smile on his lips. "Good timing. I need you to keep an eye on the monitors for a sec. Akakura is stuck dealing with something for Semi and I need to piss."

"Why the hell should I?" Nanako whined as she started to turn away. Yunohama gripped her upper arm, the smile falling away to annoyance as he steered her into the room. "Because I fucking said so. Now stay here like a good little dog...." And with that he turned and hurried off towards the bathroom.

"Asshole...." The dark haired woman muttered as she kicked at the chair before her. The last thing she wanted to do was get roped into some stupid ass task yet here she was forced to watch the monitors until he came back. Not that she was really giving it her utmost attention, no, she was busy glancing down at her phone, occasionally glancing back up. It was during one of these brief glances that she actually caught movement.

"Shit...what is....tha-- Oh..." It took a moment for her to register that someone was in the garden, and that someone was you.

How could you be so stupid, so blind? Of course he was angry, he was being forced to marry a nobody like you instead of the girl he actually cared about. He'd probably been trying to make the best of it, to try and get to know you but in the end it had been too much for him to handle, too much for his heart to bear. You had run through the winding hallways, fat tears dripping down your chin, no clear destination in mind. Yet, as if your mind knew what you needed, you soon found yourself standing in the garden.

During the day this space was so full of color and life, a stark contrast to the dark and dreary sight before you now. Even so, the night air felt good against your hot, tear stained cheeks. The house felt too suffocating, even standing outside in the garden you felt like you were drowning. You needed distance and a change of scenery, just for minute, anything to try and settle your mind. Soon an idea began to form in your mind as you crossed the garden, pace quickening as you drew nearer the rows of hydrangeas. With your eyes locked on the gate, you decided to act.

Little did you know a pair of sharp eyes watched your movements as you progressed across the lawn. Nanako watched with wide eyes as you unlatched the garden gate and disappeared into the night. Immediately, she stood and turned, intent on tracking down one of the security guards, even she knew you weren't allowed out alone. However, her mind began to turn, a new series of thoughts began to bubble to the surface that had her rooted to the spot.

"Anything happen?" Yunohama asked as he stepped back in to the room a few minutes later. She glanced over her shoulder at him, a wicked smile on her lips as she turned to face him.

"Nope." She gave him a little pat on the shoulder before exiting the room, her phone in her hand a moment later. This was perfect, honestly, she couldn't have planned it better herself. Her fingers tapped away at the screen, her eyes glinting with malicious intent.

#tendou x reader #tendou #tendou satori #tendou mafia #haikyuu #haikyuu mafia

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