"hi Rudolph." You Greeted Atsumu With A Laugh, Poking Your Finger Against The Tip Of His Nose, Which

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.

if u are reading this, i’m sending u lots and lots of love, stay safe

for a while my question was “how does bokuto have both big brother and little brother energy at the same time” and i think i know the answer. he’s a youngest sibling but he’s also the cool older cousin at every family function that let you play on his phone and taught you how to do a cartwheel and made a competition out of making faces at each other behind the adults’ backs whenever conversation at the table got boring

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."

let go of the idea that you have to be the best or do the most to be worth something.

“atsumu, when i die —”

“no, stop, don’t say that. ‘ya aren’t going to die.” he interrupted you before you could even finish, his gaze burning.

“of course i won’t, i’m immortal!” you joked. and to this, he flashed a small smile.

“but, hypothetically, if i do die, i want you to make my coffin look cute. maybe LED lights? yeah, and —” you were cut off with your rambling by a kiss to your lips. the two of you savoring the fleeting moment, gripping onto his shirt as you felt yourself weaken from his touch.

“yes, angel, i’ll do that okay? now stop yappin’ about ‘ya dying. ‘ya aren’t goin’ to die. i — i won’t even let ‘ya.” he said with so much determination that you couldn’t help but believe him.

your eyes feel heavy. “‘tsumu?”

“hm?” he looks at you, shimmering eyes.

“i’m tired, i wanna go to sleep.”

“oh — okay, sure — i, i love ‘ya, goodnight. let’s talk again tomorrow, m’kay?” he asked, the hope in his voice felt quite cruel to even exist.

“of course, i love you.”

the beeping from the monitor went to a deafening halt. atsumu felt like he was suffocating, the air in his lungs evaporating. you — the air that filled his lungs, the air he breathes, ceased. the shimmer in his eyes turned into tears.

you two never really did get to properly talk again tomorrow, or the day after that, or ever again.

love will feel (and maybe even be) so much more accessible when you stop thinking of it as this grand thing you have to be deserving of. it’s small, it’s in short moments, it’s in quick gestures, it’s in normal everyday things. when you think of it as something you have to discover or catch or deserve, you’ll miss how alive it already is all around you.

“So often we try to make other people feel better by minimizing their pain, by telling them that it will get better (which it will) or that there are worse things in the world (which there are). But that’s not what I actually needed. What I actually needed was for someone to tell me that it hurt because it mattered. I have found this very useful to think about over the years, and I find that it is a lot easier and more bearable to be sad when you aren’t constantly berating yourself for being sad.”

— John Green

ding!

. . . nanami kento. a promise not meant to be broken.

note. spoilers ahead.

there’s a saying that promises are meant to be broken.

although many lived by this, kento believed that it wasn’t right to do so. when kento makes a promise, he knows that he may own up to it through and through—a silent oath to himself, perhaps a reassurance.

he holds his promises close to his heart, and there was never a time when kento made a promise and didn’t keep it. he was a man of his word, and he considered this to be one of his best traits as a human and a significant other.

you were six when kento made his first promise to you.

“i promise to marry you someday!”

ah, you two were so young back then. 

the innocence that a child possesses with their simple declarations of affection and love is so adorable, you just nodded happily, not understanding the concept of marriage that well—though your parents did tell you that marriage was something that two people who are sure to spend their lives together would commit to. kento, back then, was much more cheery and bright—just like a beaming bee that was buzzing with excitement.

“yay!”

you could only nod excitedly at him, and kento’s smile was definitely glued to his face for the rest of the day.

when kento made his second promise to you, you were both in your first-year at tokyo jujutsu high. 

“what’s this?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“a promise ring,” he simply replies. “i know it may seem silly to engage in something like this, but i just wanted to—“

he didn’t even finish his sentence as you couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

he gave you a curious glance; his head tilts to the side, his eyes furrowing in the ever-so-slightest of confusion. “is something the matter?”

“i’m sorry, kento,” you say, making an honest attempt to keep your laughter to yourself. “i just really like your hair. it’s very interesting how you manage to get your soft hair to look like that specifically.”

kento gives you a certain look, unamused by you poking fun at his hair, though he did not pay much mind to it, smiling to himself as he sees that beautiful smile of yours as you continue to laugh at him.

it was cheesy for kento to admit that your smile always made his day a bit brighter and better, so he just never said it verbally, and yet the fond, tender look in his eyes always gave it away.

“i promise to always stay out of trouble and to always take care of myself when dealing with curses,” he says to you, and it’s the way that his words seemed so desperate to let you know that he was being sincere and truthful to himself.

a plea, a vow, to you, his future spouse.

not only was he going to do this for himself but for you as well.

kento flicks your forehead when he notices that your jaw is hanging open.

“you’ll catch flies in your mouth.”

and everything was history after that.

“you’ll be back before our trip to malaysia, right?” you ask, swiftly tying your husband’s necktie.

“of course, of course,” he softly replies.

you two are twenty-eight now. happily married and would be celebrating your second anniversary in kuantan, malaysia soon enough. it was something that you two planned out with excellent precision, knowing that your schedules were always full and were hard to match with each other.

“i promise.” he says, and a soft, chaste kiss is placed on your cheek after his words. 

“i’m always where i need to be on time, no?”

you nod at his words, smiling. “you better be. this trip took away months of my lifespan just to plan out.”

kento chuckles, and it’s one of those times when he indulges you in hearing his genuine, amused laughter. it’s one of those times when nanami feels like he could take on the world with you by his side. 

it feels surreal, but it is a definite reality.

“i love you, kento. be safe, ok?” you murmur to him.

“of course, love. i promise.”

he promised.

and yet, as the news of his unfortunate death was delivered to you, you swore your heart was being crushed a billion times over. was this some sort of sick joke? no, that couldn’t be. a matter like this should never be joked about.

there’s a saying that promises are meant to be broken.

you didn’t think too much of this saying, seeing that kento was more than capable of living up to his promises, even if it killed him.

even if it killed him.

kento’s promise to you was a promise not meant to be broken. 

but alas, you could always forgive him, right?

you could forgive him as you mourn in his empty grave with only his treasured belongings buried with his casket, right?

you are twenty-eight when kento says his final promise to you. an unfulfilled promise, at that.

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

he's sooo...🧎🥹. all these ushiwaka crumbs makes me 💘💘. ty noo 🫶🫶, now i have a new addition to my delulu hours 🤜 ⌚⌚

haikyuu boys + acts of service !

feat. sakusa, tendou, bokuto, atsumu, ushijima

"'omi, i can do this on my own, you know."

"you say that while not trying to move away." kiyoomi noted, almost sounding smug in a way. your words, unfortunately held little effect, considering how you were perched on the toilet lid, cheek leaning on his palm. his other hand was sliding cleanser over your skin, suds forming on it. 

you sighed defeatedly, letting him continue his ministrations. he did your whole routine with diligence, watching you do your skincare every night probably imprinted your routine into his memory at this point. 

he loved spending moments like this with you. he could just enjoy the comfortable silence while doting on you, free excuse to run his fingertips over your skin and memorize every bit of it. they were calloused, and yet his touch was more comforting than anything else you've ever felt. 

after patting the last bits of your moisturizer into your skin, he stood up to his full height, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. he wiped his hands on a towel before sliding them over to either side of your face. he tilted your face up, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. pulling away, he grimaced slightly at the feeling of your moisturizer now somewhat on his lips. 

you giggled, pushing yourself from where you sat, wrapping your arms around your waist and pressing more moisturizer-covered kisses over his face. his scowl deepened, though he didn't make any effort to push you away, he'd endure it, he enjoyed your affection a bit more than how he disliked the feeling of your moisturizer, he notes to himself. 

"and she pulled out screenshots! god, i've never seen someone's face go so pale so quickly." 

satori let out a dramatic gasp, stilling the hand that was carefully painting your thumb. "no way." you nodded vigorously, giggling at his reaction. 

"yeah." you confirmed. it almost felt like a teenage sleepover, what you and satori were doing right now. the both of you sat with your legs crossed, facing each other as he painted your nails with experienced swipes. 

"not surprised though. he totes had it coming!" satori comments in a sing-song tone. he dipped the brush into the bottle, wiping it on the rim before bringing it to your index finger. you could tell he was focused, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as his eyes squinted. 

"y'know, you're doing a pretty good job.." you noted, admiring the clean coats on your nails. he giggled, pressing a kiss on your knuckles, careful to not bump into your freshly painted nails, then one to your lips.

he then leaned back and stared at you with a goofy grin, stretching his hand out to your face, wiggling his fingers. "now paint mine next!" satori chimed. you sighed, shaking your head with a grin, though picking out a bottle of dark nail polish nonetheless. 

"yeah, and then i went like wham! and the ball slammed into their side!" 

you nodded along, smiling at koutaro's enthusiasm. the constant shine in his eyes when he talked about volleyball was something you could never get tired of, his hands moving around to further express what he was talking about. 

as he rambled, his gaze trailed down to your shoes, then back to your face, then back to your shoes with comically wide eyes. you tilted your head at his actions, a confused smile resting on your face. 

"kou, what's wrong?"

"hold on, baby. just gotta—" 

he dropped to his knee, shifting around to tie your shoelaces. he fumbled for a while, untying and retying it a few times. you stood there, silently watching him tie your shoelaces with an amusing amount of focus. 

he stood up, nodding and flashing you a wide grin. "wow, what a gentleman." you mused, almost dreamily before a small chuckle left you. he laughed boisterously, "can't let the love of my life walk around with untied shoelaces. that's unsafe!" he slipped his hand into yours, continuing his ramble with a proud smile. 

you unlocked the door to your shared house with a sigh, wanting nothing more than to slip your shoes off and flop into your bed, maybe sleep for the next sixty-eight hours.

you barely had to step foot in there before atsumu greeted you, his arms wrapping around your frame as he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head. you buried your head into the crook of his neck and shoulders, your own shoulders visibly relaxing at his touch. 

"hi, 'tsum. is it alright if we have takeout tonight? work killed me." your eyes were already closed as you spoke, leaning all your weight onto him. "no need," he leaned back to admire your tired face, pressing a small kiss against your temple. "i already made us dinner." he declared proudly, a smirk resting on his face. 

"you cooked?" 

"mhm." he nodded confidently, you shot him an unconvinced look. "...and it's edible?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, your lips curling into an amused smile. 

"hey!" 

you shrugged, "just thought osamu took all the cooking genes." 

"well, we just so happened to share! can't say the same about the looks department..."

"yeah, you were seriously unlucky there." 

atsumu gasped, shooting you a look of absolute betrayal. "your kind, generous, drop dead handsome boyfriend went out of his way to cook dinner, and this is how you repay him?!" 

your shoulders shook as you laughed, and gingerly took his hands in yours, leading him to the dining table. there sat an uncharacteristically pristine plate of rice balls, his chest puffed up in pride as your eyebrows raised in mild surprise. 

you hate to admit it's romantic. especially if you ignore the five containers shoved in the depths of your fridge, filled with his failed attempts, and his messages with his twin, begging for tips on how to cook without burning the kitchen down. 

"are you almost done?" 

you offered wakatoshi a noncommittal hum. "few more edits, and i'll be finished." the sound of clicking filled the room as you mindlessly typed away at your keyboard, eyes glued to the screen. 

he nodded, then turned around, and walked out of the room. you took your attention away from what you were writing for a few seconds to glance at the empty spot where your boyfriend had been sitting. a part of you had considered getting up to find him, but alas, this paper was due in an hour. 

a few minutes later, he returned. a glass of water in one hand, and a small bowl of sliced apples in the other. he placed them on your desk before moving behind you. his hands made their way to your shoulders, carefully massaging them as if pushing too hard would cause you to shatter.

it was amusing, how his large stature contrasted his gentle touch with you. you could almost forget that this was the same man ranked among the top three aces in japan, the same man with some of the most monstrous spikes. he'd trade his force for a moment of pure gentleness and care with you. 

you leaned into his touch like it was second nature, your head touching his torso. your eyes automatically fluttered shut as a content sigh left you. the dull ache in your shoulders from being hunched over your computer for hours seemed to completely wash away from his ministrations. 

"thanks, toshi." you mumbled, moving a hand from your keyboard to his hand, giving him a small squeeze. a noise of acknowledgement left him, it was deep, rumbling from his chest as he offered you a small, but genuine smile. wakatoshi knew he wasn't the best with his words, but he hoped these small actions spoke enough about his love for you.

an irl gave me these ideas, luv u and ur big brain greyps!!!