GracieGraciee

#Ushihina Omegaverse

The apartment was dimly lit, just the soft glow from the desk lamp cutting through the quiet.

Stacks of papers and open notebooks lay scattered around — half-written reports, volleyball strategies, and textbooks filled with notes in neat, disciplined handwriting.

Ushijima Wakatoshi sat there, elbows on the desk, head bowed slightly. His body ached from training, his shoulders heavy from the day’s grind. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to hard work — he’d always been disciplined, methodical, prepared to push through anything.

But tonight felt… different.

It wasn’t just fatigue that lingered in his bones — it was emptiness. The kind that settles in quietly when you realize you’ve spent days without hearing the voice that usually lifts you up. The kind that makes a room, no matter how tidy or spacious, feel unbearably quiet.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes landing on his phone. The wallpaper — a picture of Shōyō taken during one of their last meet-ups — greeted him with that bright smile, cheeks flushed with sunlight and laughter.

That smile. That little ball of energy that always pulled him out of his own silence.

“Shōyō…” he murmured under his breath.

It surprised him, how raw the sound of his own voice felt when he said the name out loud.

He thought about how Shōyō would always tug on his sleeve when they walked together. How his laugh would echo like a melody every time they teased each other about food. How soft his voice would turn when he said ‘Toshi’, only for him.

Ushijima rubbed his face with both hands, sighing deeply.

“Damn long distance,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

He wasn’t one to complain — not about training, not about exhaustion or pressure. But this? This constant ache, this gnawing need to see him, touch him, hold him — it was harder to endure than any match or late-night study session. His chest tightened with the weight of it.

If only I could see him now, he thought. If only I could hold him for just a moment.

He picked up his phone, thumb hovering over their chat. The last message was from Shōyō earlier that evening:

[Shōyō]: Don’t forget to eat, okay? I know you’re tired but I want you to take care of your health, Toshi 💪🏻❤️

Wakatoshi’s lips curved faintly. Even through a screen, that boy never failed to reach him.

Still, he typed out a message:

[Wakatoshi]: I miss you.

It was simple. Honest. Not the kind of thing he said often, but it was the only truth he could manage tonight.

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed.

[Shōyō]: Eh?! You okay?? You rarely say that out of nowhere 😳

[Wakatoshi]: I just… miss you. That’s all.

[Shōyō]: I miss you too, Toshi. A lot. We’ll see each other soon, okay? Promise 💕

He stared at the message for a long moment, his chest finally easing. The loneliness didn’t vanish — but it softened, replaced by warmth.

Ushijima leaned back, still holding his phone, imagining Shōyō’s voice in his head, bright and soft like a ray of sunlight that cut through the gloom.

“You’re my peace, Sho,” he whispered to the quiet apartment.

—————

The night air in Miyagi was cool, and Shōyō lay sprawled on his bed, phone resting on his chest.

He’d been scrolling through photos — the one where Ushijima looked serious mid-serve, another where they stood side by side after a match, smiling awkwardly into the camera.

And when he received the texts from his alpha, something in his chest tightened. Call it intuition, or maybe the pull of their bond, but suddenly Shōyō just knew — his alpha wasn’t doing well.

He hesitated only a moment before tapping the call button. The phone rang twice before a deep, tired voice came through.

Ushijima: “Shōyō?”

Shōyō: “Toshi… were you sleeping?”

Ushijima: “No. I was… finishing a report.”

Even through the small speaker, Shōyō could hear the fatigue — that rough edge in Wakatoshi’s voice, the way he exhaled slowly like he’d been holding his breath all day.

Shōyō: “You sound exhausted. Did you even eat dinner?”

Ushijima: “A cup noodle. And coffee.”

Shōyō’s tone softened, yet a mix of affection and gentle scolding. He sat up, holding the phone closer.

Shōyō: “Toshi.. You need real food, not just cup noodle. And don’t forget your vitamins, okay? You’ll make me worry.”

There was a small pause on the other end, followed by a faint chuckle.

Ushijima: “You’re already worrying.”

Shōyō: “Of course I am. You’re pushing yourself too hard again.”

Ushijima leaned back in his chair, letting his head rest against the wall. Just hearing that voice — warm, animated, full of life — started to ease the heavy weight pressing on his chest.

Ushijima: “I miss hearing you nag me.”

Shōyō: [laughs softly] “I’m not nagging, I’m reminding you because I care, silly.”

Ushijima: “I know. And I… appreciate it.”

He could picture it — Shōyō’s face scrunching up when he got flustered, his soft hair falling over his eyes. He could almost feel the warmth of his small hand tugging at his sleeve.

Ushijima: “You make it easier to breathe, you know.”

Shōyō: “Toshi…”

The line went quiet for a heartbeat — the kind of silence that feels full, not empty.

Shōyō: “Hey, you’ll come home next break, right?”

Ushijima: “Yes. I’ll take the earliest train.”

Shōyō: “Good. I’ll make your favorite hayashi rice and miso soup, so you better eat properly until then.”

Ushijima: “I will. Only because you told me to.”

Shōyō: “You better!”

Their laughter blended softly through the static. Shōyō kept talking — about school, Karasuno’s practice, how Kageyama got mad at him again, how Yachi brought cute snacks from the store. A small smile crept onto Ushijima’s lips — rare, but real. He didn’t interrupt as Shōyō continued to talk, his voice a gentle rhythm in the quiet room.

Wakatoshi listened. Every word sank into him, slowly melting the stiffness from his body, the ache from his bones.

“—and then Daichi-san said we might get to go to Sendai for—”

“Mm.”

“Toshi, are you listening?”

“Always,” he murmured softly.

His eyelids were growing heavier now. The warmth in Shōyō’s voice lulled him deeper into calm, like the steady hum of waves.

“Hey, you better sleep soon, okay?” Shōyō said, noticing the long pauses.

“I will… after you finish talking,” Ushijima replied, voice barely above a whisper.

“You sure?”

“Your voice helps.”

There was a soft laugh from the other end, shy and touched. “You’re impossible, Toshi.”

But Shōyō kept talking anyway — quieter now, softer, like he didn’t want to break the calm.

He talked about the weather, about missing him, about how the pillow still smelled like Toshi from the last visit.

And then — silence. A deep, even breath from the other end.

Shōyō paused mid-sentence, smiling fondly when he realized.

“You fell asleep, huh?” he whispered, voice warm with affection.

From the other end of the line, he could hear faint, steady breathing — Ushijima’s deep, rhythmic snores.

He chuckled quietly, pressing the phone closer to his ear.

“Good night, Toshi,” he whispered softly. “Sleep well. I love you.”

He waited a moment longer before hanging up, smiling at the thought of his alpha finally resting — probably still clutching the phone close, as if he could hold onto Shōyō’s voice a little longer.

#Ushihina omegaverse

Practice had ended, sweat still clinging to skin, steam from the showers fogging the mirrors.

Tendou was lounging across the bench like a satisfied lizard, towel draped over his shoulders, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Ushijima stood at his locker, toweling his hair, calm as ever. Too calm.

Which meant Tendou absolutely had to poke him.

“Ne, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou sing-songed, “what if—just what if—Shoyo decides he doesn’t want to be with you anymore?”

The locker room went quiet.

Reon froze mid-buttoning his shirt.

Goshiki nearly dropped his water bottle.

Semi mouthed, what the hell, Tendou?

Ushijima’s hands paused. Just for a moment. A fraction.

His expression didn’t shift, but his eyes— darkened.

“That,” Ushijima said slowly, voice calm and terrifyingly certain, “will not happen.”

Tendou grinned wider. “Oooh? Confident, aren’t we? But hypothetically—hypothetically—what if he leaves you?”

Everyone looked at Ushijima. He actually considered it.

Two seconds. Three.

And then, with the same tone he uses to call a cross shot:

“Then I will drag him back to me,” he said. “And lock him if necessary.”

Dead silence.

Goshiki squeaked.

Semi stared like he’d just witnessed a crime confession.

Reon sighed, already tired.

Tendou? He cackled.

“HAAA—! I knew it! I knew you’d say something insane! You’re so scary, Wakatoshi-kun!”

Ushijima blinked. “Why? It is logical.”

“Logical he says!” Tendou slapped his knee. “Poor chibi-chan doesn’t know he’s dating a yandere!”

Strangely, Ushijima didn’t deny it. He simply closed his locker with quiet finality.

“Shoyo is mine,” he said calmly, as if stating a fact of nature. “And I will not let him go.”

Tendou clutched his chest dramatically.

“HORRIFYING—AND ROMANTIC—AT THE SAME TIME!”

The team slowly backed away, some whispering, some shaking their heads.

Goshiki whispered to Reon, “Should we warn Hinata?”

Reon: “No. If Hinata chose him, we trust he knows… whatever that was.”

Tendou threw an arm around Ushijima’s shoulder.

“You’re soooo in love, it’s dangerous.”

Ushijima didn’t answer. Because for him? It wasn’t a joke.

Not even a little.

⸻

The door swung shut behind Ushijima, leaving the locker room in a stunned, echoing silence.

No one moved or breathed.

It was Reon who finally exhaled.

“…We’re all alive. That’s good.”

Semi ran a hand down his face. “Did he actually say he’d drag Hinata back and lock him up?”

“Yes,” Goshiki squeaked, voice cracking. “With no hesitation! None! Zero!”

Tendou was still laughing, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Oh, come on, guys—it’s romantic in a very twisted Wakatoshi-kun way!”

Semi stared at him. “Satori. He looked like he meant it.”

“Oh, he did,” Tendou said cheerfully. “He absolutely meant every word.”

Reon sighed, the Responsible Adult of the team. “I knew he got… intense about Hinata. But this is… next level.”

Goshiki hugged his water bottle for comfort.

“Hinata is so small! So cute! So innocent! Does he even know he’s dating a walking natural disaster?!”

Tendou grinned. “Nope! Chibi-chan has no idea that his alpha is one intrusive thought away from going full yandere.”

Semi nodded “Hinata’s a sweetheart. He offers you snacks, he bows ninety degrees when apologizing, he’s literally sunshine incarnate.”

Reon added, “And our captain is… our captain.”

“Terrifying,” Semi clarified.

“Emotionally stunted,” Tendou corrected playfully.

“Built like he could punch a truck,” Goshiki whispered.

“Willing to kidnap his omega,” Semi muttered.

Tendou spread his hands. “Listen, listen—Wakatoshi-kun isn’t actually dangerous. Not unless someone tries to take Hinata from him.”

They all paused, looked at each other, and collectively shuddered.

Reon: “I just hope Hinata never says something vague like ‘we need to talk’ or ‘let’s take a break’.”

Semi: “He’d lose his mind.”

Goshiki: “Ushijima-san has lost his mind! For Hinata! It’s kinda horrifying and admirable at the same time!”

Tendou smirked knowingly. “Just wait until Hinata realizes how utterly, hopelessly claimed he is.”

Reon groaned. “Poor kid.”

Semi crossed his arms. “We should support Hinata. Because he’ll need all the help he can get to survive Wakatoshi.”

Tendou beamed. “He’ll be fiiine. Chibi-chan is sunshine. Sunshine always tames big scary monsters.”

“But the monster is still a monster,” Semi muttered.

“Exactly, but” Tendou laughed. “Isn’t love amazing?”

It was a hunger he carried like a shadow, patient and quiet on the surface, but coiled deep and feral underneath. To outsiders he was calm, disciplined, impossibly self-controlled. But inside him burned a vow that had no boundary, no limit, no mercy.

Shōyō was the one sin Ushijima would never confess, because he would never repent. He didn’t want forgiveness; he wanted him. His devotion wasn’t shaped like flowers or soft words. It was shaped like a promise whispered in the dark: whatever it takes.

If the world asked him to kneel, he would stand.

If the law stood between them, he would break it.

If the sky itself tried to take Shōyō from him, he would claw it open.

Crime, consequence, reputation — all of it would burn to ash if it meant keeping Hinata safe, untouched, within reach. It wasn’t romance as the world knew it; it was a kind of worship that had turned into obsession, a steady flame he would stoke even if it scorched his own hands.

To love Shōyō, for Ushijima, was not to protect his soul — it was to surrender it.

Ushijima’s phone buzzed during a short break. He expected a team-related update, but instead saw a message from Daichi with a photo attached.

The moment he opened it, his chest tightened.

There was Shoyo—sitting in class, uniform a little loose on him, orange hair messy as always, sipping from a juice box like a carefree kid. His profile was soft in the sunlight streaming through the window. Completely unguarded.

Ushijima’s lips curved—small, but warm. His thumb lingered on the screen, tracing Shoyo’s outline as if he could reach through.

“Adorable,” he murmured under his breath. His omega. His Shoyo.

And for the rest of practice, his heart felt strangely light, the image tucked carefully into his photo gallery where he could look at it again later.

Ushijima stared at the picture for another moment before finally typing back to Daichi.

Ushijima:

Thank you for sending this.

Daichi’s reply came quickly.

Daichi:

Haha, no problem. He looked too cute just spacing out like that. Thought you’d like it. Don’t worry, he didn’t notice me snapping it.

Ushijima’s chest swelled with a warmth he couldn’t put into words. He saved the photo to a locked album, then opened another chat—the one that mattered most.

Ushijima → Shoyo:

Are you drinking juice in class?

A minute later, the three dots appeared.

Shoyo:

Eh?? How do you know?? 👀

I was!! Daichi-san saw me, didn’t he?!

Ushijima:

Yes. He sent me a picture.

Shoyo:

What?! Daichi-sannnn whyyy 😫

Ugh it’s embarrassing!

Ushijima:

It’s not.

You look adorable.

For a moment, Shoyo didn’t reply. Ushijima wondered if he’d embarrassed him too much, but then—

Shoyo:

///

Toshi, you can’t just say stuff like that out of nowhere 😳

My heart hurts now.

Ushijima’s lips twitched into a rare, soft smile. He typed slowly, deliberately:

Ushijima:

The first time Ushijima Wakatoshi stepped into the gym of High School, he wasn’t expecting much.

He had been convinced—more like dragged—by his friend Sakusa Kiyoomi to check out the volleyball club. “You should at least see the team before making a decision,” Sakusa had said, arms crossed, looking unimpressed as always.

So here he was, standing by the entrance of the gym, staring at the team of third-years already deep into their practice. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor and the satisfying smack of a volleyball being spiked filled the air. It was a strong team, that much he could tell at a glance. But none of that held his attention for long.

Because amidst the group of upperclassmen, he saw him.

A third-year with bright orange hair, as if the setting sun had chosen to rest atop his head. He was much shorter than the rest of his teammates, yet he moved across the court with a presence so commanding it was impossible to look away.

And then he jumped.

Ushijima’s breath hitched.

Despite his smaller frame, the third-year soared high—so high it was almost as if the sky itself was reaching for him. His body twisted in mid-air, arm swinging down with sharp precision, and the ball slammed onto the other side of the court.

“Nice kill, Hinata!” one of his teammates called out.

Hinata.

The name settled into Ushijima’s mind as he watched the orange-haired third-year land with a light bounce, spinning around with a bright, triumphant smile. His energy was unlike anything Ushijima had ever seen—electric, contagious, mesmerizing.

“Oi, Wakatoshi.”

Sakusa’s voice snapped him out of his trance. Ushijima turned his head slightly, only to see his friend staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“We’re here to check out the team, not stare at the third-years like a lost puppy,” Sakusa muttered, crossing his arms.

Ushijima said nothing, but his eyes flickered back to the court—back to Hinata.

And then, as if feeling his gaze, the third-year turned around. Their eyes met for the first time.

“Ah! You guys must be the first-years, right?”

Hinata’s voice was light, cheerful, carrying none of the intimidation a top player should have. He jogged toward them without hesitation, stopping right in front of Ushijima.

Up close, the difference in their height was even more noticeable. Hinata barely reached his shoulder. And yet, looking down at him, Ushijima didn’t feel taller at all. If anything, Hinata’s energy filled the space between them, making him seem larger than life.

“You’re really tall for a first-year!” Hinata grinned, tilting his head slightly to look up at him. “What’s your name?”

Ushijima hesitated for a moment. His heart was beating a little too fast, something unfamiliar and new twisting inside his chest.

“…Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“Ushijima, huh?” Hinata beamed, sticking out a hand toward him. “Nice to meet you! I’m Hinata Shoyo, third-year and outside hitter! Welcome to the team!”

Ushijima looked at his outstretched hand. Then, slowly, he took it.

Warm. That was the first thought that crossed his mind.

And the second?