#I want more Meian Shuugo! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

martellprincess-writes · 2 years

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haikyuu!! bad boyfriends: meian shuugo

tw: 20+, minors & under-20s DNI please noncon/dubcon, f!reader, kidnapping (ish?), dom! angry! meian, spanking, belt usage, whipping, collaring, brat taming, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex

summary: A cozy cabin stay for the holidays in your hometown with your fiancé. What could possibly go wrong?

holidays AU | small town AU | vengeful ex | intruder alert

made for @taixju naughty or nice collab! ty so so much for letting me join. this was so fun!

wc: 4.1k+

a/n: this story got way too long and probably too detailed but i couldn’t help myself cuz it’s meian and it’s meian wearing a silver chain ok goodnight

“Well that was nice,” your fiancé says, setting the keys down as you both enter the cabin.

“Yeah, it was really cute. Cute and simple.” You’d brought him to your hometown for Christmas, renting out a cabin so you could show him a part of you most people didn’t know about. You were kind of embarrassed about it to be honest, leaving the second high school was over to erase this part of you. Even your parents didn’t live here anymore. But he wanted to know you, beyond the city girl that he’d met and fallen in love with. So here you were almost ten years later, coming back from the Christmas party held by the town at the quaint little community center.

“I didn’t know that small towns are the way they are in the movies. Everyone knowing each other.”

You giggle, tossing your heels aside and heading into the kitchen. “I didn’t remember like ninety percent of their names. I felt bad.”

He chuckles, unscrewing a bottle of wine with a pop. “Well hey, you knew that one guy’s name.”

“Who?” you frown, taking the box he held in front of you.

“That really tall guy. My mom sent this.”

You smile. “What is it?” Your eyes light up when you open the box, seeing the ornament she’d seen you admiring when you were at his parents’ house.

“Aw, I love it. She’s so sweet.”

He smiles, looking down at your body. “Baby you look—”

“Oh my god, if you say it one more time.”

“You do!” he laughs.

“I was definitely…overdressed.”

“Well they were…underdressed,” he raises a brow with a smile. “Simple town folk I guess.”

It was true. He was the only one in a designer suit, and you wore a red satin mini-dress. You could feel the eyes on you, forgetting that spaghetti straps and this much skin in a family-friendly setting was something they were probably not used to.

“Yeah, well,” you spin around, walking into the living room to set the ornament on the tree. “That’s why I fled as soon as I had the chance.”

“Exactly. You outgrew them, so don’t feel bad.”

Behind you, your fiancé pours himself a glass of wine, setting it on a table by the living room.

Behind you, an uninvited guest enters the kitchen, calmly and swiftly, walking toward the two of you with a purpose.

Behind you, your fiancé’s voice cuts the silence throughout the cabin:

“Uh, can we help you?”

Your head snaps to his direction just as Meian Shuugo socks your fiancé in the face. He gets him with one blow, making him fall flat, face-down to the ground, knocking him out completely.

The ornament and the box in your hands fall. Just like him. Just like you. You collapse to the ground so simply, your legs folding under you as Meian approaches, his shoes crunching over the shattered wine glass. Your eyes bore, mouth hanging open, breath knocked out of you just like it was knocked out of your fiancé. Meian wears all black, still in the suit he wore from the party — what the hell happened between then and now?

You are mute, shocked and stunned to silence, even when he reaches down for you, only your arms moving to smack him away. You spring into action, crawling towards your man, crying out his name as wine bleeds out onto the floor. You shake his shoulders desperately but Meian scoops you up, hooking his arm around your waist as he takes you away.

You scream and fight, kicking and swinging as he takes you upstairs. It seems to make no dent, Meian’s strength and build making it too easy to carry you across the house. As you approach the top of the stairs, you center your body weight, attempting to slip onto the floor and out of his grip. He lets you go, only to throw you over his broad shoulders instead. The height throws you off balance, him being a beast over 6’5”. You cling to his blazer, tears pooling as he gets you into a dark room.

Meian tosses you to the floor before he walks away. Your ears ring wildly, blood rushing to them before he shuts the door.

The thunderous speed at which everything happened comes to a halt, and it’s suddenly as if you’re the only two people left in the world. Everything goes silent.

You wait for what’s next, but he doesn’t move. His tall, broad frame in the darkened hall makes you shrink.

“What the hell are you doing?” your voice is a blubbered sob, the complete opposite of your usual sophisticated decorum.

Slowly, Meian backs away from the door. He turns to face you, a small old lamp in the corner of the room giving the faintest orange glow to his dark features. His eyes are set, his face stern, yet somehow he looks…calm. Like he didn’t just break-and-enter, assault, kidnap? He’s in control and unafraid.

You look up at him as he stares you down. You almost — almost — wonder if he won’t actually try to—

He starts to take off his suit jacket.

Your chin quivers and you close your eyes, cowering into yourself with a drop of your head.

He tosses his jacket aside as he eyes your bare legs.

“Look who has the upperhand now.”

His voice is low but still it startles you. Slowly, you pull your head up. He huffs, enjoying the confusion that settles in the creases on your forehead.

“What?”

“Well it’s always been you, hasn’t it?” One corner of his lip curls lazily as his eyes take a quick glance down your chest. The way your corset perks your breasts up makes him even more stiff in his pants than he already is just by having you in this position you’re in. “Always leading me on. I mean, why’d you even come back? Just to spite me? Just to rile me up?”

Meian wears a leather glove on one hand, the other slightly pink at the knuckles. The fist he’d used to punch your fiancé. “You’re clearly too good for this place, aren’t you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you cry. “Get out!”

He grins, his white teeth shining as he shakes his head. “No. I waited years for you. First you said the problem was the distance, that you needed to focus on college — then all of a sudden, the problem was me. I wasn’t up to your standards, huh sweetheart?”

Your jaw is slack as you stare at him in shock. You let out a breath, remembering — “that was years ago, we — we were kids. It was high school.”

Three short weeks of “dating” if you could even call it that, before you both graduated high school. It was a fling, so insignificant that you didn’t remember it until now. You didn’t even remember running into him after college, the one time you came back here to help your parents move. You didn’t remember him asking you out, running into you while you were already having a bad day, eager to get out of this close-minded town for good. “I date men with degrees,” you’d said, brushing him off like you didn’t recognize him, like he was just some insignificant small town boy, so utterly beneath you.

You see the look on his face. He lets out a laugh, but his eyes, buzzing in a below-the-surface rage, tell you otherwise. “Is that all it was for you? You told me to wait, so I did. You told me what kind of man you wanted, so I became him. I even started to accept it. I took it as a loss, I almost moved on. Then I hear you’re coming back. What could you possibly be doing back when your family’s not even here?”

He undid the velcro strap of his glove before he brought his hand to his mouth, grabbing the leather with his teeth as he slid his hand out. He tossed the glove aside, watching you as he unbuttoned his cuffs.

“I’m just here for Christmas—” you panic, lips wobbling at the sight of him preparing.

“Ah so still the sentiment stands then, that you don’t give a fuck about anyone here, the people you grew up with. Well ‘tis the season, right? So then tell me, baby,” he cracks his knuckles and crouches down so he’s at your eye level. He smirks. “Do you think you’ve been naughty? Or nice?”

You avert your eyes, your stomach caving. He stands, pacing around slowly as he undoes his tie. “I’d say naughty. Only bad girls…play with guys like this…”

You don’t want to look at him, but the way he draws out the words, like he’s distracted, getting lost in thought. He’s quiet for too long and your curiosity gets the best of you. You look up to find him shamelessly indulging himself over your figure. He licks his lips before he forces himself to come back. “Don’t you think it’s time someone put you in your place? I mean, the way you dress tells me your fiancé’s useless. I think you need a man—”

“He’s more a man than you’ll ever be,” you spit.

Meian laughs. “You sure, princess? The guy can’t even take a hit. I’m worried he might not wake up.”

“Fuck you—”

“God,” he throws his head back, pacing around again. “That’s just the worst part of it isn’t it? All this time,” he looks at his clothes. “Everything I — all for you to come back with that.”

He huffs, knowing someone as weak and ineffective as your betrothed can’t possibly be satisfying you in any way. That at least brings a smile to his face. That at least should be enough for him to walk away. To know you’re miserable. You see him shaking his head. No. No. It’s not enough, damn it.

Meian sighs. “I should hate you.” He faces you once more. His shoulders slump. “I should hate you. You’re just another arrogant, stuck-up, rich princess. But look at you...”

His eyes glaze, looking at your body like his mouth is watering. “You’re fucking….stunning.”

He looks as though his eyes water. He pushes his tongue to his cheek, his mouth open like a beggar. He drops to one knee, slapping his hands to the carpet as he crawls toward you. You pull your legs into your chest, backing away fearfully, stammering until you’re able to get on your feet. You get up and try to run, but he gets in your way with quickness, towering over you to push you back without a sweat.

You bang at his chest to no avail. Meian only presses forward, nodding, taunting you to try and fight him. He grabs your wrists and tosses you into the bed behind you. When you roll over, Meian puts his hands on your shoulders, pinning you as one hand slides down your arm, wanting to feel your warm, soft skin.

You catch an old timey clock on the dresser across the room, the one with an alarm that rang every hour to signal the change. It had the loudest, oldest, most unsettling sound. The battery case was stuck shut, that’s how old it was, so your fiancé had brought it to this room, the room on the furthest end of the cabin, where you wouldn’t have to jump every time you both heard it.

You had about a minute.

“Okay, okay!” you whine, attempting to roll onto your back. He unpins you, letting you face him. You look up at him, your chest movements as you pant making him swallow. In an attempt to get them to stop shaking, you squeeze your hands into the tightest fists before you reach for the hem of your dress. Meian’s hungered eyes follow, watching intently as you slowly pull your skirt up. He can probably see your panties now.

He leans forward, the weight of his palm creating a dip in the bed beside you as he brings his face to yours.

You quickly turn your cheek, a knee-jerk reaction to avoid his lips, but it doesn’t bother him as he settles between your thighs. He cups your chin, holding you in place as he plants a kiss under your ear. It’s a sensitive spot for you, one that tingles your lower back as you watch the clock.

You see the second-hand turning, getting close, but your eyes flutter. You moan unintentionally, the feeling of him sucking on your earlobe making you twist underneath him. You’d rub your legs together if he wasn’t between them. No — you push against his chest, making him hover above you. His eyes are half-lidded, his mouth wet.

The clock shrieks, making him jump. He looks at the dresser as you shove him, getting past. Meian grabs your arm, twisting it behind your back as he shoves you into the wall in front of you. He presses his thigh against your backside, getting his knee between your legs as he uses his body to pin you into submission.

“You’re fucking relentless,” he huffs, smiling against your ear. “You get off on it, don’t you? Being a tease. Leading men on.”

You purse your lips into your mouth, whimpering as he locks both your wrists behind your back with just one hand. He kisses your shoulder, making the hairs all over your body rise as he gets closer and closer to the crook of your neck. You press your tongue against the roof of your mouth, suppressing a soft moan. His kisses start to trail down your spine, his hot breath tickling.

“I want to taste you,” Meian whispers, his low voice vibrating your bones.

He slides his body down yours, pressing the side of his head against your ass as he gets to his knees. His head keeps you pinned to the wall as his hands grip your ankles. His palms slide up the backs of your legs, feeling, squeezing every part of you. When his hands get to the back of your knees, you bend, weak and so sensitive to his touch. He slides up the back of your thighs, gripping, needing, you. His hands cup the bottoms of your cheeks. You feel his lips kiss the inside of your thighs, going up, getting closer — you flinch, jumping to your toes as you gasp. He bites the bottom of your cheek, making you squirm, clench, squeeze your thighs closed.

Your sweaty palms press against the wall as he spreads you open, splaying kisses deeper between your thighs. He buries his face into your legs, his thumb rubbing up and down your panties, rubbing up and down your sensitive lips. You jump, a moan escaping you.

He stands up, hands sliding up your stomach so he can get to your breasts. You look over your shoulder, your eyes a deep haze as they spot his lips. Meian leans forward instinctively, wanting to press his lips against your plush pout, but he stops himself, coming to a realization.

The realization that you want him too. You want him to fucking kiss you. He thinks to do it, fuck, he craves it, wanting to explore your mouth, bruise your lips, and hijack your breath — but no. Your fucking arrogance. Your teasing, torturous, elitist, arrogance. You’re a brat. Fuck you.

Your eyes drift from his lips up his face, looking into his eyes. All doe-eyed and frightened with the slightest most hidden speck of arousal and seduction. Your lips part, reeling him in.

Meian closes his eyes and leans in, bringing his mouth to yours. You anticipate the kiss, opening up, but he only whisps the faintest touch, flicking his tongue against your teeth before he gets down to his knees again. He buries his face in one of your cheeks, enjoying the plush fat before he takes a sharp bite over the satin, making you yelp and dig your body into the wall again. You’re hot and wet with arousal, pressure building between your thighs.

He flips you over, hands slipping under your skirt as he looks up at you. Meian grabs your hips, pulling you forward as he crawls back, making your back slide down the wall so you lean your shoulders against it. He tugs on the waistbands of your panties, hiking them up your hips so they rub and tease against your clit.

You look down at him, well not him directly, you’re too coy to admit you enjoy his touch. He presses his chin into your pelvis, looking up at you like you’re his to worship. His fingers curl at the sides of your panties, slipping them down under your dress. The pressure of his chin against you, him on his knees before you, looking up at you, indulging those vain thoughts that you are above him, make you wind up with pressure, so close to—

Meian releases his chin, letting the panties slide past as you sigh in defeat. He keeps his eyes up at you as he leans in, bringing his lips to your dress. Your eyes widen and you finally make contact, staring down at him as you pant through your gaping, whoreish mouth.

He smiles knowingly before he kisses your clit, your heat present even through the satin, the softness of the cloth pleasuring both his mouth and your skin. He sees your hand from the corner of his eye, attempting to grip a flat wall that has nothing to give you. Everyone has nothing to give you. Everyone who isn’t him.

Here in the dark, you can give in to sin. Breathless, muscles coiling — there’s no one around but him, no one around to see you like this but him.

Meian kisses your clit again, enticing another stifled moan from you at his whim. He opens his mouth, wide, enveloping the whole tip of your pelvis in an open-mouthed kiss. He pulls away slowly, eyes still on you, watching you gasp desperately as he pulls the silk with him before letting it slip from his lips.

You’re going fucking feral.

Your hands land on the tops of your thighs, desperate to squeeze something. He decides to have mercy and give you his tongue. But not complete mercy, as he ducks under your skirt, hiding from view.

Being the power-hungry slut that you are, you pull your skirt up, eager to watch him as he pleases you.

His wide tongue laps you up, making you sink into him straight away. You struggle to hold yourself up and he knows it. Poor thing. He scoops your thigh up, sliding his shoulder under you. He’s broad, muscular, strong — such a man — taking care of you, letting you slip into him completely while he stays on his knees for you. You squeeze your eyes shut, throwing your head up as he moves from your clit, deeper in you, his tongue gliding down your warm folds.

He kisses your lips, the lewd sound as he sucks making you crazy. You run your hand in his hair, grabbing a fistful as he moans, the vibrations making you whine loudly,m. Your eyes water, gasping wildly before you hear him.

“You want me, don't you?” His voice is low and intimidating — dominant. “You want me to fuck you.”

“No,” you whimper, pushing into his mouth, hoping to get his tongue to do exactly that, to fuck you. Meian pulls away.

“No?” he asks. You look down at him between your perky tits.

He gets up, tossing your thigh off him, your legs jell-o. You see his chin drenched in your juices before he grabs you by your arm.

He throws you onto the bed again. “No,” you answer, pulling your knees into you as you lie on your elbows, looking up at him like only a spoiled brat would.

“Yeah,” he nods, the corner of his mouth twitching confidently. “I can tell by the way your legs clamp together.”

You watch as Meian undoes the buttons of his shirt. He rolls his shoulders out, throwing his shirt to the ground. You swallow, your mouth dry, parched, at the sight of the ripples through his undershirt, muscles apparent even under this dark light. Eager to be in his arms again, the way you were when he scooped you up and brought you here, you only blink before he grabs your hips, flipping you over before you can react. You try to sit up on your knees, but Meian shoves your face into the mattress. He leans over you, his dick hard against your pussy as he whispers into your ear.

“What did I say about being naughty? Only bad girls are liars too.”

He gets off you, the jingle of his belt as he undoes it behind you making your walls pulse. You drool into the mattress, wanting his dick, wanting him to fill you up and fuck you raw. He tosses your skirt up your back, squeezing the fat of your ass in his big hand before he smacks you. It makes your walls clench, a beggar for friction. You cling to the duvet beneath you, your hands so desperate and outstretched, waiting for him.

A whip cuts through the air, his belt slapping you against the ass. Your moan is so high, so shrill, making blood rush to his dick. He whips you again and again until you’re a slobbering slick mess beneath him.

Meian massages your red skin, knowing you want to be consoled and soothed by his soft touch alone. You roll over, your hair ratted and wild, splayed all over your face, mouth agape and glossed with saliva. You look perfect, finally looking like the bratty little slut you truly are.

“Now,” Meian sighs, panting as he wraps his belt around your neck, making sure not to catch any of your hair under the leather. “Are you done lying?”

He tightens the belt, pulling until the clamp comes to the side of your neck. He wraps his knuckles around the extra leather, looping it around his hand until his grip is right at your neck and you’re leashed like a good girl. You nod, looking up at him with the most pouty, submissive frown.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” he asks, your eyes darting to see how big his cock is as he gets between your legs. “Naughty or nice?”

He grabs his dick in his hand, rubbing it up and down your folds to electrify you. You gasp, your back arching already. It makes him insatiable, but Meian’s a patient man. He’s waited for years, he can wait some more. He sees how much it kills you to say it. Your lips quiver before you open your mouth.

“I’ll...be nice.”

“You’ll be nice? You’re not gonna be a brat anymore?”

You close your eyes and lick your lips, nodding submissively.

“Then say my fucking name.”

“M—Meian—”

“No.”

Your lashes flutter up at him, secretly begging for sympathy and for his body. You feel him right at your entrance, so close, your muscles pulsing, wanting to pull him in.

“Sh—Shuugo—”

He forces his dick in, slapping his hand onto the bed to hold himself on top of you. His other hand tugs on the belt, squeezing your neck as he slowly, so slowly, fills you up. You moan loudly, tears leaking out the corner of your eyes, running down your temples as he fills you up to the brim, his girth just as impressive as his length. You cling to his shirt, stretching it out as he stretches you.

He finally pulls back and thrusts, Meian’s moan weak and high like he’s been touchstarved his whole life. You run your hands under his back, pulling him in as you bring your mouth to his, desperate to catch his moans. This time you tease him, flicking your tongue against his teeth before he presses his face into yours, sucking the breath out of your mouth. His kiss makes you dizzy, the final drop of his lust sending you over as you sink under him, getting lost in him completely, the taste of your pleasure on his mouth.

You pull his shirt up his shoulders, getting it off him, the feeling of not having his warm, toned chest pressed up against you a crime. You toss it without a care, letting it fall to his bound fist as you pull down your dress, allowing your nipples to rub freely against him. He pounds into you with all the built-up, pent-up hate of all this time, his grunts matching his frustration. His silver chain dangles in your face while you dig your nails into his shoulders, wrapping your leg higher up his hip.

He teases you through stifled groans. “See? See what happens when you’re a good girl?”

You can only whimper in response, making him chuckle. He moves your hair out of your face, gripping a fistful at the top of your head, tugging at the roots. “Fucking princess,” he mumbles into you.

BONUS:

Hours earlier…

Meian sees you standing alone, your back to the entire party as you look out the window, admiring the evergreen forest’s beauty on display on this lovely winter night.

Here you are, in your hometown. Finally. It’s been almost ten years since high school. When he heard you’d booked the cabin in the woods, he couldn’t believe it. He had to know what brought you back. Was this temporary? Was this for good? Was this for him? It didn’t matter, he’d finally have the chance. To show you the man he’d become. He’d gotten the degree, he’d gotten the job, he’d changed everything. The clothes, the car, the lifestyle. All of it. For you.

He walks over to you, rubbing sweaty palms against his thighs before grabbing two champagne flutes off a waiter. His heart races the closer you get, seeing you in that red dress. Your legs...the way you fill up the skirt of your dress so nice...

He stops when he’s right behind you, leaning in. “Merry Christmas.”

His low, smooth voice meets your ears with ease. You look over your shoulder, taking a second before your beautiful eyes light up. You half sigh, half giggle, turning to face him.

You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, establishing power when he points up at the mistletoe above you two. You catch it before you look at him again. He shakes his head, smiling softly. “Don’t try anything, I’m trying to stay on the Nice list.”

You giggle, your laughter filling his chest as you drop your head into one of your hands.

A man comes up to you both, getting your attention, but Meian barely pays him mind, too distracted by your red lipped smile and the front of your dress. Your nipples poke through the satin, big city girls like you prioritizing being half-naked distractions over your own comfort. He feels himself in his pants immediately, only to have the euphoric feeling of absolutely crushing his re-introduction to you stripped when the stranger puts his hand on your back.

“Oh, thank you,” you grab the flute the prick offers, pointing to Meian. “This is Meian…”

“Shuugo,” Meian says with a thin smile, quickly deciding he’s still not fully upset with you. How could he ever be upset with you?

“Right! I think we went to high school together, right? Meian, this is my fiancé.”

Meian’s cheeks deflate, his eyes losing the sparkle of excitement he’d gained by being in your presence. But you don’t notice. No one does. He looks at your fiancé. Looks down at him. He’s...utterly unremarkable, especially standing next to you. Not a single mark to define him as a man, he’s barely even able to match your height in your stilettos.

You deserve better, and you must know it too.

read more haikyuu!! bad boyfriends

#nanasnaughtyornicecollab #meian smut #haikyuu meian shuugo #tw noncon #haikyuu bad boyfriends: the series #martellprincess-writes collabs #haikyuu smut #hq smut #tw dark content #tw dubcon #dom! meian shuugo #tw belt usage #tw whipping #tw collar #brat taming

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taixju · 2 years

Text

A NOTE:

hi everyone! this is my first ever collaboration (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) with christmas right around the corner (i know halloween just finished, but i’m that person who gets super duper excited for christmas!) i’ve been wanting to put together a collab to help us get into the smutty holiday spirit! 😈 (ahhh, please don’t let this flop lol)

PROMPT: “have you been naughty…or nice?” we all know it’s not the latter…what have you done to get onto the naughty list?

STATUS: ACCEPTING

DUE DATE: DEC 31, 2021

NOTE: if you miss the deadline, need to drop out, or need extra time, don’t panic! feel free to lmk via private messages. this is purely meant to be a fun collab for content creators! and i totally understand that all of us have responsibilities outside of tumblr and life happens! <3

REQUIREMENTS:

participants must be 18 years or older [age in bio]

minors are NOT welcomed

dark content & NSFW content is welcomed! kinks of all shapes n’ sizes are welcomed as long as they are tagged accordingly and the “read more” tool is utilized. writers and artists are encouraged to participate!

word count: 500+

tag or private message me the link to your final post so that i may add it to the masterlist :)

fandoms: tokyo revengers, aot, jjk, bnha, and haikyuu

WANNA JOIN? send in an ask with the fandom & character of your choice! it’ll be first come first serve, with the maximum of 3 slots per character! participating content creators are guaranteed a reblog of their final piece :)

[TOKYO REVENGERS]

@keizos | manjiro sano |

title. 𐐪 wasteland, baby! 𐑂

synopsis. You and Mikey finally indulge in a fantasy that’s plagued you both for years.

@kireirengoku | baji keisuke

@semisgroupie | shinichiro sano

title. 𐐪 discipline 𐑂

synopsis. You have been such a naughty girl all year round. It’s about time someone disciplined you and Shinichiro would gladly take that role

@sohya | kazutora

title. 𐐪 lessons learned 𐑂

synopsis. Enemies to lovers with your pervy roommate.

@fuyusangel | matsuno chifuyu

@jthebeauty | taiju shiba

@chickentendieboi | kokonoi hajime

@imaginationteashop | kisaki tetta

@marism | wakasa |

title. 𐐪 with my headphones on 𐑂

synopsis. It’s inevitable. Innocent phone calls quickly turn into nasty phone sex.

@thetempleofnyx | ran haitani |

title. 𐐪 more than milk & cookies 𐑂

synopsis. Ran thinks his favorite little elf is sweeter than sweet.

[ATTACK ON TITAN]

@lovelysho | eren yaeger

@letmebeyourgalathee | jean kirstein

[JUJUTSU KAISEN]

@lovelyxloli | toji fushiguro

@arean | toji fushiguro

@s-ugei | suguru getou

@luseifer | nanami kento

@ambrodias | satoru gojo

[BNHA]

@izukuskani | katsuki bakugou

@redspade227 | keigo takami |

title. 𐐪 hawks 𐑂

synopsis. A special Christmas Eve with Hawks.

@akirahira | izuku midoriya

@mal-adaptive-daydreamer | tamaki amajiki

title. 𐐪 make you mommy 𐑂

synopsis. Your boyfriend can’t stop thinking about adding a lil addition to your family this Christmas.

[HAIKYUU]

@hintson | satori tendou

@toorusluvr | hajime iwaizumi |

title. 𐐪 personal 𐑂

synopsis. Spending Christmas break with your hot boss? What could go wrong?

@rosesandtoshi | hajime iwaizumi

@haikyutiehoe | kotaro bokuto

@fvckme-sir | kotaro bokuto

@martellprincess-writes | meian shuugo |

title. 𐐪 haikyuu: bad boyfriends 𐑂

synopsis. A cozy cabin stay for the holidays in your hometown with your fiancé. What could possibly go wrong?

@haikyutiehoe | msby

#this collab has probably been done before but let’s do it again for funsies ☺️#like n’ reblog if you’d like after joining <3 #posting asap so participants have maximum amount of time to get started :3 #collab #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #nana’s naughty or nice collab

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geewritesshit · 3 years

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if your body matches what your eyes can do

note: so i have been writing this for my friend nicole and it has taken way too long; i really hope you all like this :))

pairing: osamu x meian

cw: a lil bit of angst, body image issues, blow jobs, anal sex, spit kink, daddy kink, slight praise kink

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34272175

Osamu does not want to be at this club. His jeans feel too tight and he is hyper aware of his stomach poking out just a bit too much for his liking as he notices all the thin, buff, and fit men surrounding him in the club. I should leave soon; he thinks this as he crosses his arms over his chest looking out over the crowds of people to watch his twin grind on his boyfriend. A pang of jealousy that makes him feel sick to his stomach flashes through his chest. Atsumu’s T-shirt is a little tight and rides up every now and again showing off his muscled abdomen. Osamu feels terrible comparing himself to his brother because Atsumu needs to be in shape for his job and Osamu doesn’t.

The comparison is unfair and he knows this, but he cannot stop thinking about it. He thinks about all the people he’s looked at tonight and tried to hit on, and how they gave him a once over and dismissed him. He crosses his arms over his chest and hunches slightly, trying to make himself smaller. His hands move to fiddle with his drink in front of him as he tries to keep himself out of everyone's way. He stops moving when a big hand slams down on the bar next to him, making him jump. Osamu looks up to see one of the men from Atsumu’s team, although for the life of him he can’t remember the man’s name.

The man’s dark hair is slightly mussed from dancing and his button-up shirt is stretched across his massive chest. Osamu’s breath is caught in his throat as he tries to say something, anything to get this man’s attention. The dark-haired man yells a drink order to the bartender over the music and then looks down at Osamu.

“Hello, you’re Miya’s brother, Osamu, right?” His voice is a deep baritone that reverberates and sends shivers all the way down to Osamu’s toes. And holy shit the hot guy remembered his name.

“Yeah,” he replies, blushing and just a bit breathless, “I’m sorry, I never caught yer name.” He feels stupid because he was too caught up in himself to remember any of Tsumu’s teammates' names.

“I’m Meian Shuugo,” Meian answers, his smile never faltering. However, Osamu’s blush deepens because he should have remembered this man’s name because he is the captain of the MSBY Black Jackals.

“Shit, I feel dumb. I should have remembered you, captain.” Now it’s Meian’s turn to blush. He’s cute like this, Osamu thinks, he’s really hot too. Osamu’s thoughts screech to a halt, however, when Meian leans in close to him, his eyes darkening.

“I liked hearing you call me captain, but if you don’t want me to take you home don’t do it again,” his gruff voice makes Osamu swallow a whimper before speaking again.

“Are you sure, Captain?” he draws out the last word, leaning close to moan the word into Meian’s ear. Osamu hopes he looks as hot as he wants to look for this buff ass man. Meian’s eyes darken more as he leans forward closing the gap between the two crashing their lips together.

The kiss is a desperate action, filled with teeth and tongue like they’re teenagers. Osamu’s arms reach up and around Meian’s neck pulling him closer as the man settles his huge hands on Osamu’s squishy thighs. He tries not to cringe at the feeling of someone touching the fat on his legs, losing himself in the kiss. After a minute they break apart panting slightly.

“So,” Meian starts, face flushed, “my place or yours?”

“Yours, Tsumu is staying at mine.” Meian laughs while nodding in agreement.

“You were quick with that,” his voice is nearly too much for Osamu to handle, his heart thundering in his chest threatening to break out.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while,” Osamu replies, a little breathless, trying to contain himself.

“Their loss.” Meian grabs Osamu’s hand leading him to the exit.

As soon as the cool air hits their faces Meian is pulling Osamu in for another desperate, hungry kiss. One of Meian’s hands is holding him in place by the back of the neck, the other is working its way to Osamu’s ass, kneading and grabbing at the soft flesh. Osamu whimpers into Meian’s lips, wanting and needing more than they can do on a sidewalk in the city. Thankfully, Meian had enough foresight to order an Uber that is pulling up to where they are on the sidewalk.

They clamber in still holding onto each other like they are each other’s last connection to the physical realm. It’s a ten-minute ride to Meian’s place, and Osamu can hardly wait, but the longer he sits in the warm car the more aware of himself he becomes. He doesn’t usually do this; he’s not the type to go home with some guy he basically just met. And he keeps growing more and more aware of how heavy his stomach sits against his body. He is so aware of it, and he’s growing so close to panic until Meian’s lips pull him out of his thoughts.

It’s not the same hungry kiss from the sidewalk; this one is sweet, soft, and slow. It pulls him in and feels like coming home. When they pull apart Osamu isn’t left panting and begging, he’s staring up into Meian’s face with a look of wonder.

“You looked a bit too in your head,” Meian whispers to Osamu, bringing his hand to Osamu’s thigh to caress it in such a calming way. Osamu melts into Meian’s touch and body.

“Thanks,” Osamu is breathless. He doesn’t get the time to say anything else because they are pulling up to Meian’s place, and thanking their driver as they rush through the cold air to the door. Meian already has his key out when they reach the door and as soon as they set foot inside Meian’s lips are on Osamu’s, effectively pinning him against the wall. They struggle between kisses, pulling their shoes off, and trying to discard any outerwear before they make their way into the house proper.

Osamu is tangling his legs with Meian’s seeking as much friction as he can find, chasing his high. Meian gripping Osamu’s body with his huge hands makes Osmau feel so small. Meian’s hands have found their way to his ass again and he’s hoisting Osamu up, leveraging underneath his thighs. Instinctively Osamu wraps his legs around Meian’s waist; however, he also voices a protest.

“Meian don-” Osamu is cut off by a growling voice.

“Call me Shuugo,” Meian’s tone comes off softer than a growl should.

“Shuugo,” Osamu whispers it so reverently, like a prayer. He shakes his initial shock off to get back to his original thought, “Please put me down. I’m too big.” Meian levels him an unimpressed stare.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Meian orders, he’s so convincing Osamu’s spine snaps up as straight as he can manage, “Do you think I’m weak and I can’t lift you?” Osamu blushes at his words.

“That’s not what I was saying, but guys like me aren’t small enough to be picked up and tossed around,” his voice is tinged with embarrassment as he tries to avoid outright explaining his insecurity.

“Who told you that?” Was the only thing that came out of Meian’s mouth. “If you like to be picked up and tossed around you don’t need to be a certain size to enjoy that.” Meian’s find themselves pressing against Osamu’s rapidly heating cheeks, slowly making their way down his neck to his chest. Meian adjusts his grip on Osamu before moving them away from the wall and walking them to his bed.

When they reach his room, Meian deftly flips the light switch on and drops Osamu softly onto his bed. Meian pulls his shirt up and over his head, throwing it onto the floor behind him. Meian leans forward to kiss Osamu again, and their lips crash together again with Osamu moaning into Meian’s mouth. Osamu’s hands are traveling up Meian’s chest, tracing the broad planes and feeling every glorious inch of the man in front of him. Meian has the same idea, and his hands are working themselves underneath Osamu’s shirt trying to pull it up. Osamu can’t help but pull away, tugging his shirt back into place.

“I can just take my pants off,” Osamu says his voice laced with shame, “Most guys don’t want my shirt off, or if you want me to take it off we can turn the lights off.” He’s trying to pass it off as lighthearted but his voice keeps pitching due to his nerves.

“Are you okay, you seem like you’re not doing okay…” Meian’s tone is concerned, and Osamu almost breaks down right there. His concern sounds so much like he cares about Osamu beyond fucking him, and Osamu doesn’t if his heart can take that.

“I’m totally fine,” he says, like a liar, “It’s just in my experience, most guys aren’t too into big hairy chests, so we just turn the lights off and ignore it.” The look on Meian’s face is incredulous.

“Well,” Meian starts, shaking his head, “Then most guys are either stupid or blind.” It’s Osamu’s turn to be surprised. “I think your body will be amazing no matter what because I think you’re amazing. You’re bold and sweet; I really can’t imagine not wanting to see any part of you.”

“Fuck, of course, you’re perfect.” Osamu feels a lump begin to rise in his throat because he knows he’s about to self-sabotage. “Of course you’re perfect, and then there’s me. You know how weird we looked leaving the club together, most people will think you just have, like, a weird fetish for fat, chunky guys. And I’m just the guy who was lucky enough to land a chance with you.” Osamu can feel the tears welling in his eyes, as he prepares himself for Meian to come to his senses and ask that he sees himself out.

“I’m the lucky one,” Meian whispers, barely audible.

“What?” Osamu sniffs. Meian clears his throat.

“I’m the lucky one,” Meian says louder, “You looked like you were about to leave, and by some wild chance, you stayed. I didn’t want to miss my chance with you, and I was so nervous that you were going to leave. You didn’t even know my name, but that’s fine because we’ve never really met in person, I’ve just seen you so much on Miya’s Instagram.” Osamu is staring at him like he spawned a second head and four more arms.

“Wait,” Osamu’s voice is shaking, “You thought you wouldn’t have a chance with me?”

“I thought you were going to leave and would have to wait another few months before I saw you again… I thought if we hooked up, it might make you want to stay. But it seems more like I’m making you uncomfortable and you don’t want to do this with me. I’m really sorry for what I did to make you uncomfortable.” Meian just looks so earnest that Osamu can’t help it.

“I thought you wouldn’t like me because I’m fat,” Osamu confesses. “You aren’t making me uncomfortable, every other person I’ve slept with I guess convinced me that no one would want me if I’m not thin or muscular. It’s nothing you did, it’s just all in my head I think.”

“So what if you’re fat? It’s not a bad thing…You get to be soft and sexy.” Meian tone is insisting that he is right, and it’s so convincing. “I wouldn’t want you any way other than how you are right now.” Osamu’s lower lip trembles at Meian’s words; of course, he had to be so perfect. Osamu’s chest is tight and he hates this feeling, it would have been so much easier if Meian would have just shut the light off or asked him to leave.

“I’m sorry.” Osamu just wants to cry. Fuck, why did he have to be so nice?

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Meian leans in and kisses him so softly like he’s scared Osamu will try to make a run for it. “If you don’t want to do this anymore, we can leave off here and just hang out or whatever you feel comfortable with.” Osamu wants to kiss him again; kiss him so fucking senseless that neither of them will be able to remember their names.

“No,” he says softly, “I want to keep going. I really do.” Meian smiles at his words before leaning forward and enveloping him in a hungry kiss. Meian’s hands are cupping Osamu’s face while Osamu’s hands worry at the hem of his shirt before tugging it upwards.

They break apart for Osamu to pull his shirt up and over his head, dropping it next to him on the bed. Meian sucks in a breath, looking at Osamu’s now exposed chest. Meian’s hungry look sends heat pooling to Osamu’s stomach as he surges forward, wanting, needing more of everything Meian is willing to give him.

“Fuck,” Meian’s whisper is reverent, “How are you so perfect?” Osamu feels his whole body blush as his hips are stuttering trying to seek any friction they can find. Meian tugs Osamu to the edge of the bed, getting down on his knees in front of him. Meian’s hands and lips are everywhere, whispering quiet praises about how perfect Osamu is and how much he can’t wait to fuck his perfect ass. Osamu is so painfully hard as Meian kisses down his chest, moaning as Meian’s mouth inches closer and closer to his clothed cock.

When Meian reaches the waistband of Osamu’s jeans, he looks up at Osamu with questioning eyes, making sure he wants to continue. At Osamu’s nod, he fumbles with the button and zipper of Osamu’s jeans, tapping Osamu’s thigh for him to lift himself off the bed slightly so he can pull the jeans down to his mid-thigh before Osamu is struggling to pull his legs out the rest of the way. They make eye contact while Osamu is battling his jeans, and erupt into soft laughter as Osamu finally breaks free from his denim prison.

Meian is quick to lean down and mouth at Osamu’s underwear-covered cock, a wet patch forms as Osamu whimpers at the contact.

“Please, Shuugo, need you,” Osamu keens as Meian turns his attention away from Osamu’s cock and back to worship every inch of Osamu’s torso.

“Just a minute, baby,” Meian says against his soft stomach, looking up at Osamu, “I want to soak up every perfect inch of you.” Fuck. Meian works his way down to Osamu’s thighs biting and kissing the plush skin there. Meian was mumbling some nonsense about how sexy and perfect Osamu’s thighs are.

By this point Osamu has had enough; he uses both hands to reach out and cup Meian’s face forcing him to look up at Osamu. He begins to stand, forcing Meian to follow suit and stand up looking down slightly at Osamu. Osamu pulls him in for another searing kiss; his hands immediately going to undo Meian’s slacks. Osamu can feel Meian cock twitching beneath the fabric.

“It’s my turn,” he whispers against Meian’s lips, cupping Meian’s cock through his boxers. Meian’s body shudders against Osamu’s, anticipating what is coming next.

Osamu maneuvers the huge man so his back is to the bed and pushes him down into a sitting position. Straddling Meian’s lap, he leans forward to kiss him and grind down against him. Meian’s groan sends a shudder through Osamu’s body, and he grinds down more wanting to feel more.

His mind keeps demanding more, more, more where Meian is concerned. When they finally break apart, Osamu begrudgingly lifts himself out of Meian’s lap and works Meian’s boxers off. Meian’s flushed, leaking cock slaps against the broad planes of his stomach when Osamu finally works the waistband far enough down. Osamu involuntarily licks his lips as he stares hungrily at Meian’s cock, thinking about how he desperately wants that in his mouth.

He really does want to tease Meian the way he teased Osamu, but he can’t bring himself to do it, not with Meian’s cock sitting there in front of him just begging to be sucked. Osamu brings himself down so he is at face level with Meian’s cock before taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the precum slicked tip. Meian throws his head back and groans, threading his fingers through Osamu’s silvery blonde hair before thrusting shallowly into Osamu’s throat. Osamu tries to relax his throat enough to take Meian’s massive length deeper into his throat, but he’s just so thick and it’s making Osamu’s eyes water as he stares up at Meian with his eyes wide.

“Holy shit,” Meian groans, “Fuck, you look so good like this. A good boy on your knees for me.” Osamu hums around Meian’s cock, as he palms himself listening to Meian praise him. He’s fumbling with his underwear trying to pull it down while trying to suck the man in front of him deeper into his throat. Osamu wants to pull every glorious noise out of this man if it’s the last thing he ever does. “Fuck I’m close. Please let me fuck you.” Meian’s voice is so raspy and gruff that Osamu almost cums on the spot.

Osamu hollows out his cheeks in response, sucking harder and making Meian’s hips buck up forcing his cock further into Osamu’s tight heat. Osamu pulls off, and kisses the tip of Meian’s cock as he maintains eye contact with the panting man in front of him.

“You did such a good job,” Meian’s hungry look hasn’t left his face, “Open your mouth for me, baby.” Osamu’s lips part and Meian leans forward spitting into Osamu’s waiting and eager mouth. Meian hand reaches out to grip Osamu’s chin, while he holds the spit in his mouth. Meian’s tongue licks its way past Osamu’s pliant lips. Their tongues intertwined mixing the taste of Meian’s cock and spit. After a few seconds, they part. Meian gives a big theatrical swallow before saying, “Delicious.” Fuck.

“Please,” Osamu whines, “please fuck me.” Meian stares down at his beautiful face, eyes watering and cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. Meian bites back a groan at the sight and steels himself for what he wants to see this man do.

“I don’t think you want it enough,” Meian says, “Beg for it,” Osamu whines staring up at Meian with big eyes. Osamu’s hands work themselves up to his chubby stomach and smooth over his nipples, making him gasp. Osamu twists and pulls at his nipples, moaning lightly. Meian’s cock twitches at every sound emitting from Osamu’s mouth as he fondles himself for Meian’s eyes only. Osamu inches closer, hoisting himself up to straddle one of Meian’s thighs.

“Hng, daddy, please,” Osamu’s hips begin to move as he rides Meian’s thigh, “Please fuck me, daddy,” Meian growls deep from within his chest, but he holds himself still watching this beautiful man fall apart with nothing but his thigh. “Fuck, daddy, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Do you think you deserve my cock?” Meian murmurs into Osamu’s ear, “I think you could get yourself off on just my thigh, like the perfect little slut you are.”

“Please, no,” Osamu keens, “I need your cock.” His hips grind down harder on Meian’s thigh, a wet patch forming where his cock is leaking. Meian’s hands grip Osamu’s plush waist, fingernails sinking into his soft skin creating indents.

“You can cum, Osamu,” Meian whispers, and it’s like that was what Osamu had been waiting for. His release coats the inside of his underwear as he comes with a whine, his hips still working and grinding against Meian’s thick, muscled thigh. Meian whispers, “Good boy,” against Osamu’s neck.

Osamu’s weight collapses against Meian’s chest as he catches his breath, Meian smiles down at him, as his hands' ghost down to Osamu’s underwear. Meian pushes past the elastic band and drags the underwear down as much as he can before he has to pat Osamu’s upper thigh to get him to stand so they can get him out of his underwear. Osamu groans as he stands, still leaning as much weight as he can against Meian.

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” Meian asks. Osamu nods as a shudder works its way down his spine. Meian adds, “I don’t hear you.”

“Yes, daddy. Please fuck me,” Osamu’s voice is slightly hoarse. Meian smirks, maneuvering Osamu onto the bed so he can grab the lube out of the nightstand. Meian gets back on the bed, hovering over Osamu and kissing him. Osamu’s hands immediately rush up and tangle in Meian’s hair, scruffing it up more than it already was.

They break apart as Meian clicks open the bottle of lube, slicking up his fingers as he leans back to line them up with Osamu’s twitching hole. Meian pushes one thick finger past the tight ring of muscle, marveling at how Osamu clenches around the intrusion and moaning through it all. Osamu’s hips move of their own volition, grinding back onto Meian’s finger trying to feel him deeper. Osamu’s desperate little cries and panting fill the room.

“Please, I need more,” Osamu begs, wanting, needing more. Meian doesn’t bother answering as he forces another finger inside of Osamu, relishing in the sounds Osamu makes as he gets filled more and more by Meian’s fingers. The fingers working Osamu’s hole open, scissoring him open a bit more before adding a third finger. Meian forces his fingers even deeper, finally brushing the bundle of nerves nestled inside Osamu, making him nearly scream in pleasure.

“I wish you could see how perfect you are right now,” Meian nearly growls, “It’s like you were made for me.” Osamu’s arms can no longer hold his front up, collapsing as he arches his back more for Meian. Meian’s other hand reaches up to squeeze Osamu’s ass, loving the way the other man’s skin reddens and the glorious sounds Osamu makes when Meian squeezes too hard. He smacks Osamu’s ass, watching the soft flesh jiggle while Osamu quietly moans.

“Please, Shuugo,” Osamu moans, “I can’t take it anymore. I need daddy’s cock.” Meian smacks his ass again.

“You need more?” Meian teases, head still spinning from hearing Osamu moan his name, “Does a slut like you need more to fill you?” Osamu just moans, but Meian is beyond caring as he pulls his fingers out so he can use more lube to slick up his cock.

Meian gives his cock a couple of strokes to fully cover it before lining himself up with Osamu’s winking hole. Meian begins to push in, groaning a quiet fuck as he pushes into Osamu’s still tight heat. He gives a few shallow thrusts, trying not to cum seconds into fucking Osamu.

“Ahn, harder, please,” Osamu demands, grinding his hips back. Meian is so entranced, he can’t even consider reprimanding Osamu for anything. His mind is blank with pleasure as he pulls almost the whole way out before slamming back in.

“Is this enough for you?” Meian demands roughly. Osamu’s reply is incoherent pleasured babbles that Meian can’t even begin to comprehend.

Meian looks down at where they are connected, almost dizzy with pleasure. He decides the most amazing sight on the planet is Osamu’s ass jiggling with each hard thrust into him.

“Fuck,” Meian groans, “ I can’t fucking get enough of you. You’re so perfect.” He wraps his arms around Osamu’s chest, grazing his nipples and making the other man unabashedly moan. Meian pulls Osamu to his chest so they’re both upright, with Meian still pounding into Osamu as the other man whimpers at the stretch of himself around Meian’s thick cock.

Osamu’s head falls back onto Meian’s shoulder as Meian’s hips begin to slow a little but reach deeper. His soft babble drive Meian crazy, as Osamu begs for something harder and deeper. Osamu’s babblings quiet to soft whimpers, as his eyes begin to glaze over in pleasure.

“Yeah?” Meian whispers to the fucked out man on his cock. Osamu clenches around him as he mumbles something slightly coherent. “What was that?” Meian asks, his voice smug.

“I want you to cum in me,” Osamu slurs, “wanna feel you.” Meian’s grip on Osamu tightens. Shit.

Osamu turns slightly and their lips crash together in a near-violent storm of moans and teeth. Meian fucks harder into Osamu, feeling that heat pooling in his stomach. He’s getting closer and closer, spurred on by Osamu’s whimpers of I’m close, and please let me cum.

“Osamu,” Meian pants, “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Now.” Osamu shivers and clenches at Meian’s demanding tone. His cock twitching and spurting thick ropes of cum as Meian fucks him harder through his orgasm.

Osamu’s body is practically jelly as Meian fucks into him chasing his own orgasm. He groans Osamu’s name as he spills into him, fucking Osamu like he’s Meian’s personal fleshlight.

“Fuck,” Meian groans as he pulls out, watching his load spill out of Osamu’s clenching hole and listening to the younger man whimper. Meian leans down to Osamu’s ass to lick up what is spilling out, relishing in the soft moans that still escape Osamu’s raw throat.

“You really are perfect,” Meian says as he leans forward to tenderly kiss Osamu’s cheek. Osamu is already drifting off as Meian asks, “Please stay a little longer?”

#hq smut #haikyu smut #meian smut #osamu smut #osamei #meian shuugo #osamu miya

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sirena-blogs · 2 years

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Character: Meian Shuugo

Word Count: 5.5k words

WARNING, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, MAFIA READER, MAFIA MEIAN, GUNS, MAFIA, BLOOD, VIOLENCE, TOXIC FAMILY, DEATH THREATS, IMPLIED ARRANGED MARRIAGE, ANGST ANGST ANGST. LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING.

For @lovemeian

Thank you @saudade-mayari for being the beta reader <33

Death followed you everywhere.

It was an unfortunate side effect of being the heiress to a crime syndicate.

The L/ns are one of the best and most feared crime families in the world, with their nearly international reach and wires upon wires of connection.

You have built up your own connections to back you up as you grew older, ones ready to back you up whenever you need it.

Your footsteps echoed in the halls of the syndicate’s main headquarters, the building that you practically grew up in. To many, a life surrounded by guns and violence was terrifying and outright traumatizing. But to you, this was normal.

This was your life. This is how things have always been for you. You know this shouldn’t be how things are, how you want things to be, but it’s how it is.

“You are late.”

If it wasn’t rude according to your upbringing, you would've rolled your eyes at your father already. You weren’t late. In fact, you were on time. But to your father, anyone else that arrives after him is late.

“Forgive me, Father. I had a meeting before this.”

You knew your father would see it as an excuse, but you just sat down in front of him, not minding his glare. You were more than used to his cold ways, for he has always been like that.

“I have a job for you,” Your father started, and you tilted your head in response. “I want the Meians eliminated. And I want to start with the son.”

Your family syndicate had gone international, but there was one continent they could never reach.

Asia.

Your family can never reach Asia, because the Meian Crime Family had gatekeeped the continent for themselves. A fact that infuriated your father since his succession as the head of your family at the age of 30, when you were just 5 years old.

“What is it that you want me to do, Father?”

“We have received knowledge that the heir, Shuugo, is visiting Italy. I want you to seduce him and kill him.”

You looked at your father, waiting for him to take back his words, to take back the suggestion that you use your body for his own personal gain to end a rival mafia, but you knew that he wouldn’t. When your father wants you to get something done, he expects it to be done.

It didn’t matter if you had to sell your body for it.

Had your mother been alive, she would’ve killed your father for even suggesting a thing. Alas, your mother had passed years ago from a job that had gone wrong.

All you could do is nod.

“Yes, Father.”

*****

Meian Shuugo pursed his lips as he walked around the Meian Syndicate halls towards his mother’s office. He never liked his family’s legacy. He wanted a peaceful life. A life away from the guns and the drugs and the violence.

The Meians aren’t as bad as other syndicates, in the way that they are more peaceful, but still.

His childhood and the life he grew up with is not one he would wish on others. He wanted to run, far away from the halls that he called his home. He knew his mother didn’t want this life either, but he was the only Meian heir. He could not afford to let the family legacy crumble.

“Son, are you sure about heading off to Italy for this vacation? You have never been overseas.”

Meian looked at his mother and nodded his head. He knew the dangers of him flying overseas with the minimal number of guards with him, but he wanted to.

“I am, Mom. Besides, Italy is neutral territory. Nothing should happen to me there.”

Reassurance is all that he can offer to his mother, along with the years and years of training that he’s had under her watchful eyes. He knew how terrified his mother was of losing him too, after she had lost his father years ago.

“Just be careful, okay? Italy may be neutral ground, but things can still happen.” His mother said, a worried frown causing a crease in her tired eyes. “The L/ns are notorious for making things happen on neutral territory.”

“I know, mom. I’ll always watch my back.”

He wished that he didn’t have to. He wished that he was normal, that his life was the same as everyone.

But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t the same, and any hopes for normalcy is not in his grasp.

No matter how much he wished or willed it to be.

*****

Italy is beautiful all year round. This you knew, but nothing beats the beauty of Milan during the fall season. You sipped on your coffee and continued to read your book.

You landed in Italy a week ago and had been spending the last few days trying to come up with a plan for the job you had been tasked to do.

Only that it was difficult, as you didn’t know where in Italy did the Meian heir go to, nor did you know when. All the intel given to you was that he was going to be in Italy, and thus, you’re at a loss.

As you let the day pass by, you were startled when someone sat in front of you. You glanced at them and went back to your book, until it clicked on your mind just who exactly was in front of you.

The very man you have been tasked to seduce.

You raised your brow at him, but he just grinned cheekily..

“Lovely weather we are having, no?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering exactly why he approached you. It was impossible that he didn’t know you.

Not to mention the fact that he is gorgeous with his sleeve tattoos and muscled arms, a chiseled jaw and a pair of enticing eyes.

“You do know who you’re talking to, yes?”

He scoffed, but nodded. Of course he knew you. Your father had been trying to get into Japan for as long as he remembered, and it was his job to know all the heirs of the syndicates that posed a threat to his family.

The L/ns are on the top of that list.

“Then why are you speaking to me?”

“Why not? Italy is neutral ground, is it not? Surely you wouldn’t do anything.”

“What makes you so sure?”

You had expected his response to stay playful like he had been so far, but you stopped when his eyes went dim and hooded when he looked down on the coffee cup he was holding, as if a heavy rain cloud just manifested itself on top of his head.

“You have the same look as I do.”

He looked back at you and you immediately understood what he meant.

The look of exhaustion, of acceptance.

The look that screamed for a freedom that is unachievable.

“...I see.”

Silence reigned between the two of you as you continued to stare at each other, waiting to see who was going to do the next move. Unable to stand the silence and the staring contest, you sighed and held your hand out.

“I should introduce myself properly then. I’m L/n Y/n.”

Meian didn’t even hesitate to take your hand and shake it.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Meian Shuugo.”

*****

“Hey, the Antiques Fair is coming up this sunday. Would you like to accompany me?”

You looked away from your phone and to Meian who was looking at you expectantly.

It has been nearly two months since then.

Everyday, it became a routine for you to meet Meian at the coffee shop and just talk about everything, ignoring the fact that you’re both syndicate heirs that are hanging on top of your heads.

You both avoided that topic entirely, choosing to enjoy the temporary peace that you felt for once in your life.

“Are you asking me out, Mr. Meian?”

This was the first time he asked you to go somewhere with him, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly playful in your response. However, the smile on your face disappeared at the redness that appeared in the male’s ears and the sincerity in his eyes.

“Meian. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“You know we can’t.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Meian…”

He reached over the table to hold your hand in his, keeping his eyes on the way his hands dwarfed yours.

“I know we shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But… But I’m starting to like you.”

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, louder than the first time you heard a gun being fired in an enclosed space. You can feel and hear it pounding so loudly, you were afraid that Meian was going to hear it.

You shouldn’t even debate whether you should say yes or not, for this was a way for you to finish your job.

And it’s not fair because you have grown attached. Attached to his soft smiles and the way he would hold his arm out like a gentleman to keep him from accidentally leaving you behind when you’re walking around. Attached to the deep, rumbling laughs when he saw something funny or when you did something amusing.

You are hesitating, because you have started to like him too.

You know you have, because you found yourself looking forward to seeing him again the next day after the end of every day. You know because you found yourself looking a little more at him, your hands lingering by his arm a little longer.

You have grown attached and have begun to like Meian Shuugo, and it’s making you hesitate on whether or not you should continue the job, regardless of what your father wanted.

You could feel your hand shaking in his hold, and Meian waited patiently for your answer. He knew that you’re struggling to form one, unable to choose between your loyalty to your family and your syndicate, and your budding feelings for him.

He didn’t have that big of a struggle, for he knew that his mother would back his decision up any day, even if it is with you.

You looked at him with a shaky smile before nodding, ignoring the way your mind had been whispering that this was a bad idea.

Because you knew that it was a bad idea, and that this can go downhill faster than you can say hello to a stranger in the street.

And yet you couldn’t stop yourself from letting it happen.

You just hoped that it doesn’t go in the worst route possible.

*****

The Antiques Fair is held every last Sunday of the month, where citizens of Milan get to showcase and sell various antiques that they had kept all throughout the years. Meian found beauty in it, and from the way your eyes sparkled as you looked at one antique to the next, you did too.

You were adorable in his eyes, the way you bargained for a few items in broken Italian, yet somehow still managing to get your way.

“Meian, look! I found this gorgeous necklace!”

“I thought I invited you here? How come you’re the one going from one stand to the next?”

You pouted at him, and he had the sudden urge to kiss you stupid. Really, he wanted to, but he knew that it’ll push you away. So he settled with holding your hand and tugged you to him.

“Come on, Principessa. Let’s continue walking around.”

He never said anything about the blush on your cheeks as you continued to walk around.

Something caught his eyes, and he let you wander off for a bit to check it out.

A group of four rings, all with matching amethyst stones. It’s antique, with the silver bands looking a little worn, but still strong enough to be worn for fifteen years at the least. One of the rings is large enough for his own finger, and another one, he knew would fit you well. But the final two are identical tiny ones, and he knew they wouldn’t even fit his pinky.

“The smallest ones are meant for children,” The stall owner said, his english heavily accented. “The rings are meant for a family.”

“Why are you selling them then?” Meian asked as he gently cradled the rings in his palm.

“My wife has passed, and our children have grown too old for such sentimental things. I think it’s time that they find a family that will appreciate them.”

Meian looked at the rings and back at you that was still distracted by the little trinket that caught your eyes. Before he could even think more about it, he was already reaching for his wallet.

“How much for the rings?”

*****

Every week, Meian would take you on little dates, ranging from something simple as hopping from one dessert place to the next, or something as complicated as an opera performance with an added dinner at the end of the night.

Every week, you had begun to fall deeper.

It’s been six months since the tryst began, and you have been ignoring your father who had been asking for updates by the second month.

You were too afraid to answer his calls, not wanting to burst your bubble of peace just yet. He couldn’t send anyone to you either, not without making anything suspicious to the other syndicates that were wandering about the neutral territory that was Italy.

Your teeth chattered slightly as the cold January air hit you when you walked outside the apartment you had decided to rent for the course of your stay in Italy.

Six months have passed, and you found yourself stuck in the middle of two choices with no way out. Your syndicate was your family, the one thing you have been conditioned to be loyal to. But Meian…

Meian was starting to become your home.

So what do you do? Should you let Meian go and suffer the wrath of your father? Or do you kill him and start a war between your two syndicates and appease your father?

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You didn't even jump at his voice, more than used to Meian popping up out of nowhere. You looked at him with a smile, ignoring the incessant buzzing of your phone in your bag.

"Nothing much, just… a few things."

"Care to tell me what they are?"

"And destroy the mood? No thank you."

Meian tilted his head to the right, dark eyes observing you in curiosity. You know that he understood the implications behind your words, more than used to having to read between the lines. It hurt him that you chose to keep that train of thought to yourself, but he understood.

Which was why he lent an arm out to you instead.

"Alright then. Shall we go? Before we miss dinner reservations?"

You nodded your head and let him lead you to the upscale restaurant, chatting softly about anything he could think of. His voice left you distracted, mind blanking with anything but the presence of the man beside you.

Meian had that effect on you, and the longer you spent time with him, the easier it was to forget everything else.

As the night progressed and the wine that you two had consumed during dinner began to take effect slightly, you found yourself watching the way Meian would cross his arms and flex them, and the way he would smirk when he saw the rosy tint that dusted your cheeks.

You rolled your eyes at him, not wanting to show more of the fact that he has affected you in a way you never thought he would. This was not what you had signed up for when you agreed to go on a date with him.

You had not signed up for deeper attractions, ones that you know could not be intertwined with your lives. It will cause problems, and cause a whole ‘nother mess that you do not wish to deal with. But with Meian, it was entirely too easy to ignore the possibilities of complications that can arise with such a matter.

He walked you back to your apartment, and you fiddled with your fingers as you stood in front of him.

Meian waited for you to say something. He knew that you had something on your mind, something you want to say, so he stood still, waiting patiently.

“Meian…” you started to say, before you shook your head and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I really enjoyed tonight. Good night,” you continued and before he could respond, the door had been closed in his face.

You knew that the sudden change in your demeanor had confused him. You had always spoken you mind around him with no hesitation unless you didn’t want to ruin the mood.

He stared at the door in confusion. You had never hesitated around him, yet you did. Just how heavy was the weight of your thoughts and what made you hesitate?

As you leaned on the door, listening for him to leave, you can only sigh. Of course the weight off your thoughts were heavy. How can they not be?

Especially since your thoughts were about the fact that you had fallen in love with the very man that you were supposed to kill.

*****

Your mind was a mess, and you knew it.

You were stuck in the middle. Your father had just called you, demanding that you do your job and kill Meian. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t.

You cannot kill the man you love.

You grabbed your hair and tugged on it. You knew that you were losing it somehow. Stuck betweeen wanting to do your duty as the heir and your father’s daughter, and choosing Meian and yourself.

You knew you were panicking, lost and confused. So much so that you didn’t hear someone sneaking into your apartment, not until you felt a pair of hands on your own. You looked up and found Meian’s eyes looking down at you in worry and understanding.

“Meian?”

“Deep breaths, sweetheart. Follow my breathing.”

You followed as he said, letting yourself be guided into a state of tranquility. Neither of you had any idea as to how long it took. All you both knew that the moment you relaxed, you collapsed into Meian’s arms with a sob.

You didn’t want to think of why he was even in your apartment, just simply content and thankful that he is. You knew that he deserved an explanation, however.

“Papa called me-“

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I want to, Shuugo.”

The use of his given name was enough to shut him up and listen to you. He didn’t want to hear what you were going to say. Or rather, he didn’t want to confirm his suspicions. But he let you talk, knowing that you needed to tell him fo your own peace of mind.

“Papa called me into his office nearly 8 months ago. He gave me a mission. He received information that the Meian Heir was going to be in Italy. He sent me here to seduce you….and kill you.”

Meian sighed. His suspicions have been confirmed, yet he couldn’t blame you.

He would’ve killed you in cold blood too, if he was given the task. But he was confused as to why you haven’t done it yet. He didn’t need to ask, for you answered his question before he could even voice it.

“I can’t kill you. Shuugo. Not when I have fallen in love with you.”

Meian spoke up before you could even finish your sentence.

“Run away with me.”

Meian’s heart thudded in his chest as he waited for your reply. It was sudden, it was shocking, but both of you knew that you both had been thinking the same sentiment.

You both have entertained the idea of running away, of being far from your responsibilities and living a life of anonymity, a life with no guns and drugs and drama and death.

Meian was more than happy to run away. He knew that his mother would support his decision, for it was something she wished to do herself, something she would’ve done if not for the love and loyalty she felt for her husband and Meian’s father.

Now, the only choice left is up to you.

Would you risk it? Risk your father’s wrath? Risk being hunted down like a game by your father’s henchmen? Would you risk it all for Meian Shuugo, the man you love?

You looked at Meian who was still waiting for your answer, and thought back to all the time you spent with him. All the joy, the laughter, the freedom.

And how he calmed you down just now.

“I’ll run away with you.”

Yes. Yes, you would risk it all.

All for Meian Shuugo.

*****

Six years of bliss. Six years of bliss and peace have passed, that both you and your lover had almost forgotten the fact that you were the heirs to the two most dangerous mafias in the world.

Almost.

You glanced at your phone, waiting.

Your father has stopped contacting you about Meian within two years of your escape, yet you still hope and wonder that he would contact you, ask you to come home and accept the fact that you have fallen in love with the enemy.

But you knew differently. Deep in your heart, you knew differently. Your father is a mean man, and you knew that his silence only meant planning. Planning for what, you didn’t know exactly.

All you know is that it is leaving a bad taste on the back of your throat.

“Mama!”

Your head snapped up and looked at the little girl running towards you, a doll that suspiciously looked like you in her hand while her brother followed behind her sedately.

“What is it, Akari?” You said as you kneeled down to be on the same level as your daughter.

“Papa got me a doll!” Akari said excitedly, waving the doll around. You smiled and patted your daughter’s head while you smiled at your son, Kane, who was holding his own toy from their father.

After you ran away, you and Meian’s first stop had been a chapel in Italy for a quick wedding. Two years later, you and Meian had been blessed with the arrival of your two little angels, Meian Kane and Meian Akari.

Your twins, now at four years old, looked remarkably like their father, with your hair and eye colours. They were little blessings in your life, along with their father and your husband.

“That toy is cute, baby. Where’s your papa?” You asked, and both children pointed at the little cottage house you’ve been staying in for the past year. “Come on then. Let’s go back inside, hmm?”

As you led the twins back inside, you can’t help but feel as if someone was watching you, or the feeling of impending doom washing over you.

*****

You crumpled the paper in your hand in devastation and anger.

You had just gotten home from a short grocery trip when you found that the door had been left wide open. It wouldn’t have alarmed you if not for the fact that neither you or Meian leave the door open. Kane and Akari had the habit of wandering out in the area without any supervision.

Your heart dropped as soon as you walked past the door.

The place had been ransacked. Tables and couches overturned, the chairs on their sides, cords unplugged, drawers pulled open, pillows and mattresses slashed, and papers everywhere. But those didn’t worry you as much as the drops of blood that you found did.

You walked around, desperately trying to find clues that would let you know that your husband and children are okay when you found the note on the master’s bedroom, neatly placed on top of the destroyed mattress.

"You want your family back? You know where to go.- L/n F/n"

You let out an angry sigh after you dropped the crumpled paper.

You know exactly where to go, and you can only hope that they were safe.

*****

The building you once called home was suspiciously empty. It was once bustling with life, with members and henchmen that wouldn’t even dare to look at you in fear of your father’s wrath. But now, it was empathy, desolate.

You took each step slowly and confidently, eyes straight ahead, despite your anxiety going haywire.

It was unnerving, and your senses heightened as you gripped the guns in your hands tighter. The knives strapped around your thighs and the blade on your back dug into your skin with every step you took to where it all began.

The door to the basement gymnasium, where your father had begun your training, was wide open.

An invitation meant only for you.

You took a step in and immediately found Meian in the centre of the room. His face was swollen and bruised, with blood still dripping down his face. His shirt was off, showing the various cuts and punches inflicted on his skin. He was nearly unrecognisable if not for the fact that you know your husband well, and can pick him out in the dark, in the middle of a dense crowd, even blindfolded.

You ran towards him, cupping his still bleeding face softly.

“Shuugo? Honey?”

Meian groaned slightly, but stayed unconscious, his head hanging low.

“Well. If it isn’t the prodigal daughter.”

“...Father.”

You didn’t need to look back to know who it was. Even after six years of not seeing him, your father’s voice still haunts you in your dreams. You turned around and faced your father, a fake smile on your face.

“I’m no prodigal daughter, father. Prodigal suggests that I have come home on my own volition and regret.” You said, the fake smile on your face disappearing and being replaced by a stone cold look. “I was forced to return here, for you have taken my husband and children from me.”

“Husband. Ha!” Your father scoffed out, a sneer on his face. “You call that man your husband. The Hirugami heir would’ve been a better fit for you.”

Your nose scrunched in disgust. While you had no problems with Hirugami Fukuro, you cannot see yourself with anyone but your husband.

“I hold no emotional connection to Hirugami Fukuro, father.”

“You would’ve, if you hadn't run away. Your union with him would’ve been a great boost for the syndicate.” He said offhandedly, and it was then that it had sunken in, the fact that you are nothing to your father. You never have been anything to him aside from the means to elevate the syndicate and it’s reach.

“Did you ever even see me as your daughter? Your only child?” you asked in disbelief.

And your father?

He laughed. He laughed as if you had spoken the funniest joke in existence.

"Not at all. You're my child, yes. But you are of no use to me, for you are weak. And weaklings...well."

You gripped the gun in your hands tightly. You couldn't break. Not now, when your husband is injured and your children are nowhere to be found.

Not now, when your family needs you the most.

You took a deep breath and looked at your father.

"What do you want, Father? Why couldn't you just leave me alone? My family alone?"

"Family? That man is not your family." He said, pointing his own gun at your still unconscious husband. "The syndicate was your family. Yet you abandoned us for something as silly as love. With a Meian nonetheless!"

You gritted your teeth in irritation, and before you knew it, you had fired the first shot.

Your father, while getting old in number, was no slouch. He had always kept up with his own training, and was able to dodge the bullet. He fired his own shot back at you, which you dodged and moved closer to him.

Your father may be better than you with guns, your skill with blades and knives as well as hand to hand combat was unmatched in the syndicate.

You let him continue to shoot in your direction while you dodged and used every opportunity to get closer and closer to his position.

As soon as you got close enough to him, you pulled the long blade from your back, the one you had forged with your teacher as soon as you passed his training. The shootout turned into a clashing of blades, and you can almost see a bit of sparks flying off with every metal colliding.

"How could you betray our family, our legacy like this?" Your father spat out, his eyes, one that you got from him, were blazing in anger.

And just like his eyes, the anger was mirrored in yours. Within moments, you overpowered him and pushed him to the floor, the tip of your blade directly on his throat.

"How could I? How could you choose the syndicate over your real family? Your own daughter?"

Before he could answer, in walked a man you haven't seen in years, a man you trusted with your life, holding your twins at gunpoint.

"...Nobu?" You asked in disbelief and shock, your grip on your blade loosening, allowing your father to push you on your back and kick your blade far away from you.

You didn't care much, for your eyes are still on one Aone Takanobu; the man you had considered your best friend, the gentle giant you adored your whole life, was holding your kids hostage.

Aone was your closest friend. And yet here he is, coldly and blankly looking at you, his gun pointed at your children's head.

The very gun you gifted him on his 18th birthday.

"Hmm. Cute kids. Too bad their half...Meian." Your father said as he grabbed Akari by the chin to look at her before looking back at you with a sinister smile that made your heart drop.

Your fears grew as his smile grew, and it didn't take you long to know why.

"Choose, my dear daughter. Kill your husband and finish your mission, or your children will die by my hand."

Your blood ran cold as your eyes widened to your father's words.

“Absolutely not, Father.” You spat out as you slowly stood up.

“You have to, dear daughter. You have half an hour to choose. If you don’t, your children will die.”

You looked at Aone, desperately begging him through your eyes to save your children, but his brown eyes just looked at you in betrayal, as if you were a traitor. In his eyes, perhaps you are, for you chose Meian over your years of friendship with him, and your own family.

If anything, he’d be more than happy to rid the world of your children, the children he sees as abominations.

Before you knew it, they left with your children, leaving you locked in with your battered husband. You made your way to Meian and untied him, laying him down gently on the ground.

“Shuugo. Shuugo please wake up.” You begged as you tried to get your husband to return to consciousness.

“I’m awake, Y/n.” Meian said, his voice gravelly and hoarse from screaming in pain.

“So you know…?”

“I do.”

You looked at your husband before you began to sob, feeling just as lost, if not worse as 6 years ago. What were you supposed to do? Your father, the very man that raised you, is making you choose once again.

This time, between the man you love and the very children that you birthed.

You began to sob harder. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t kill your husband years ago. Today is no different.

But you couldn’t let your father and friend kill your children, your little angels either.

So what are you supposed to do now?

“...Kill me, Y/n.”

Your tears froze as you looked up at your husband, desperately wishing that you misheard him. But the rueful smile on his face said otherwise.

“Shuugo…”

“Protect our children, Y/n. They are the heirs to two of the most dangerous syndicates in the world. Choose them.” Meian said. “Kill me and save them.”

You sat by Meian, arguing and thinking of a plan, any plan, that would end with no more bloodshed, at least not from your side. But you are coming up blank, and time is ticking. Before you knew it, your father walked back in, a smug smile on his face.

“What is your decision, Y/n?”

“...father...please. Why are you doing this?”

Your father laughed coldly.

“Just for the fun of it. Now, choose.”

You placed your free hand over your mouth to keep your sobs in as you lifted your gun up and pointed it at your husband;s chest, tears falling freely down your face.

“I love you so much, Shuugo.”

“I love you just as much, Y/n. You and the kids. Take care of them for me.”

You nodded, and pulled the trigger.

©Sirena-blogs 2021 Please do not plagiarise or repost my works.

#Meian shuugo #meian #meian angst #haikyuu dark content #haikyuu angst #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu meian #sirena blogs

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skillaxx · 3 years

Text

Fuel the ego | Bokuto K. x Reader

warnings: aged up characters, they/them pronouns, third person pov, cute kisses getting hot, wordless love confessions

cast: Bokuto Koutarou, Reader

¤ honorable mentions: Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Hinata Shouyou, Meian Shuugo ¤

relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Reader

summary: Being best friends with Bokuto Koutarou has one of the best perks ever: he can lift anyone's mood up whenever it's needed. And he did exactly that for Y/n after a long, horribly tiring week at work. This time though, Y/n fuelled his ego too the moment he decided to let his feelings loose.

Monday.

"Y/n, could you do me a favor and drop by Starbucks on your way to the office?"

"I already passed it though. I took a cab today and there's traffic. I don't wanna be late."

"Please? I'll treat you to lunch."

"Uh... Fine."

"Thanks! Get two black coffees, one caramel frappuccino, and one strawberry mocha latte. Oh, and get two chocolate muffins. Gotta go, bye and thanks!"

And that's all that had to happen for Y/n's clothes to be ruined.

"You look awful today."

"It's Monday, what did you expect?"

Tuesday.

"Hey, can you go to the VP's office and tell her PA to print the documents from the last meeting that the Smith brothers signed? I think there's two contracts and one-"

"Y/n, boss needs you in his office!" One coworker interrupted the first one.

"I need them to get me the papers though."

"You can get it yourself. Y/n, the boss said it's urgent."

"Hey, guys. Y/n, could you get down to the reception and pick up the mail and papers I had delivered to me?" The third coworker showed up and interrupted both of them.

A headache? Coming right up.

Wednesday.

It was going great. Until...

"Y/n, you didn't send the contract copy to our client from Germany!"

"Sir, I'm not assigned to that project-"

"You are now. That client is so important and could sue us if we don't bring them all the information that should be on point, completely perfect. I want you to work on it. Send it to them right now."

"Yes, sir." Turning to a coworker in a cubicle next to theirs, Y/n looked at them, in need of help. "Hey, do you have that contract on your computer?"

"No, I think the office next door deals with international clients. Go ask them. Also, did you eat something in the morning? Your stomach's kinda bloated."

Luck? Happiness? Confidence? No way in hell is that going to get anywhere near Y/n.

Their boss did come at the right time though and saved them before they were supposed to answer after the nasty comment their coworker left them. A comment that ran through Y/n's head for the rest of the day, the mind forcing them to suck the stomach in when they pass by people who might steal glances at their appearance.

"The client said they're gonna wait until 8 pm. Please, get those freaking papers from the front office. Alice will give them to you."

"Yes, sir."

On their way, they thought they could just go back to their own stuff after getting the papers for the client, but...

"Hey, Y/n. Could you stroll down the street and get me and the girls-"

Thursday.

"I don't think that will be possible, I've already spoken to them. Please contact them-"

"I don't want to hear shit. Isn't that your job? Call the damn investors again and tell them to either lower their fucking expectations or give us more money."

"Ma'am, please use appropriate language. And I called them, they said they need to get in check with you too-"

"I don't have time for this. Check the whole plan and send it to your VP for a technical. The investors will wait until we're completely done with the scheduling and arrangements. Then they can wail all they want."

Friday.

"They are really difficult to work with. I don't think I've ever stumbled upon such clumsy interns in my life before."

"They're interns, it's okay if they're clumsy. They still need to learn. Keep an open mind, help them here and there and everything will work out."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But if one of them asks me for permission to go to the bathroom again I swear I'll-"

"Doing nothing again, you two?" A coworker interrupted the other ones nagging that was supposed to fill out Y/n's lunch break and let them keep on working on their paperwork for the day afterward. Someone, however, had other plans for them. "Y/n, please go take VP's schedule for tomorrow, there's some meeting she and the CEO will be attending and I need to pick up my kids from school today so I gotta leave early."

"Sure." Y/n could do nothing but just sigh and say that, planning to leave their small lunch break early and doing what they were asked to do.

"Oh, also. The stocks downtown are gonna be filled on Sunday and there's no one to take care of the finances. Could you or anyone you know is free do it? They'll be at the garages at like 8 am."

"But-"

"Gotta go, see ya two Monday. Oh and Y/n? If you're going there, wear something more...well, not hideous, yeah?"

'What?'

"Hey Y/n, please go to the boss's office and ask him if the documents I sent him are all ready for me to forward to the investors from Osaka."

"But I gotta run the check-up on-"

"Y/n, you done? Let's go grab some sandwiches-"

☆Friday, after work☆

"There is no way in hell I ever signed up for this shit." Y/n mumbled while chewing a sandwich and changing the TV channels, trying to find something that will lift their mood. They knew work will be hectic and stressful sometimes, but they were no assistant nor secretary, not even an intern to have so much work to do instead of others.

Staring blankly at the TV screen, they answered a call on their phone whose ringing they could barely hear. They were too zoned out to think about anything or anyone else on a lousy Friday night, except work and how bad everything played out in the office.

"Hello?"

"Hey hey heyyy!! How's my favorite owl in the world doing~" A loud voice on the other side said making Y/n muster up a small, but honest smile.

"Hey, Bokuto... I'm- Bo?" The line fell dead silent.

"Is the reception lagging again? Fucking studios, there's never any signal here." They mumbled, feeling guilty that they couldn't talk to Bokuto due to the bad signal in this neighborhood that would stop them from doing calls once in a while. However, that was not the reason why the call was ended. And Y/n's confusion about that was cleared 30 minutes later when a knock on their front door was heard.

The unlocked door was an immediate invitation for the unexpected guest to immediately slam them open, having them swing towards the inside of the apartment just like the person who opened them. The mood changed, the atmosphere was lifted and the depressing silence was nowhere to be found. Not since Bokuto Koutarou entered the building.

"Hey hey hey!!!!"

"What... what are you doing here? What's with the bags?" Y/n asked, confused by Bokuto's sudden appearance, especially with two big bags in his hands that look like they came out of a convenience store.

"I was just in the neighborhood so I wondered why not stop by and hang out with my-"

"Bo."

"Yes?" His innocent wide-eyed look and his genuine close-mouthed smile could not encourage Y/n to go as hard on him as they wanted to. The two held eye contact for a long time before Y/n sighed and looked at the TV screen.

"You weren't just in the neighborhood, you come here like, twice a month. This place is too far from your apartment."

"Okay, you got me there. Well, we were on the phone, right? And you called me Bokuto so I came here."

"You visited because I called you by your name?" Y/n asked, turning to look at him.

"Yes! You obviously feel so down you couldn't even use my nickname so I decided to make you feel better!" He told his friend with a big smile before turning serious in a second. It was rare to see Bokuto so serious, but even he knew when was the time to be more down to earth and act accordingly to the situation. "After you tell me what happened though."

"Nothing happened." Y/n mumbled, looking at the TV screen again. They could never bring up the lies and tell them to a person like Bokuto Koutarou, no matter how small and simple they are, no matter whether a person like Bokuto Koutarou could see through them or not. Thankfully, Bokuto Koutarou was, is, and always will be someone who will be able to see through all the small and big lies, whether they are used as a cover-up or a distraction. Well, not all of them. But in this kind of situation, he could. And he wanted to do something about it.

"Liar." He said.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Look, work was just...being work. You know, things seem like they're turning worse for me as days pass and I can't seem to get anything right." Y/n decided to confess and pour everything out before they bottled it up inside. They knew Bokuto wouldn't let the topic go until they confessed every single detail about the problem.

Y/n told him everything while the gray-haired male listened intently, picking up on every information and reading into it. He usually wouldn't bother himself with stuff like that, but for the sake of one of his closest friends, he had to. Because once he figured out the problem and its roots, he could find a solution. Although he already had a simple solution in mind, that always worked, no matter what the problem is.

"Like, through the whole week I had something bad happen to me every day. Monday, my clothes got ruined. Tuesday, everyone needed me for something at the same time. Do this, do that, go there, get that. I could barely breathe. I did the bare minimum of my actual job there. Wednesday, I got scolded for not doing something which wasn't my duty in the first place. Thursday, I fought with a client because he wouldn't call these people that pay us for this big project we're working on in Hyogo right now. We all need to stay connected and exchange information daily, otherwise if everyone is going to do their own thing, everything will go south, the project is going to get canceled and we could get sued. And Friday was just... cherry on top. Nothing special happened. But it just added to the frustration and other things I feel right now."

"Okay, that sucks. Why wouldn't they do what they gotta do but pester you about it instead? And even if it is all just work things, there's more because I can see in your eyes that you feel like a piece of shit." Bokuto spoke his mind immediately, telling his friend exactly what was going through his head at this moment while he looked deeply into their eyes, trying to figure out what was bothering them more than the stressful work hours.

"Well....uh... Some people called out my looks throughout the week, saying I look bad, that my clothes were hideous and stuff. It just... brought that small spark of confidence I have down." Y/n said, looking at their thighs and clenching their shirt in their hands tightly. A silent moment appeared. A moment that made Bokuto realize he shouldn't stay quiet for not even a second more. So he mumbled an "Oh." before standing up and walking to Y/n's laptop and type something in the Google search bar.

"What are you doing?"

"Searching for something on my Spotify."

"What are you searching for?"

"A playlist that Hinata made for my birthday a while ago. I'm letting you listen to it... and giving it to you. Listen to it whenever you feel down. Because it's time to get your self-esteem and ego up."

"Bo-"

"Nope, not hearing it. We're making you feel better and tomorrow we're going out."

"I-"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"Why won't you let me-"

"Because. I'm going to make you feel like you're the most amazing and gorgeous person who's on top of the world. You should be able to do that yourself when I'm not around though. Whenever you feel down. Okay?" He said, sending his friend a look of strictness and Y/n could only chuckle before standing up lazily and walking over to Bokuto.

"You said Hinata made that for you?"

"Yes! And it works! Gets my mood up in a second. It did that to your mood just now. See?" He said with a big smile on his face before turning Y/n to look at themself in the mirror they had near the front door. And there it was, the smile they've been longing for. The smile that fixes everything. The smile that only Bokuto seems to successfully bring out of them.

"Now, let me do what I was supposed to do the second I walked in this place." He said, turning his friend around by their waist and pulling them in. Their bodies collided with force and Bokuto wrapped his arms around Y/n as tight as he could, pressing their bodies closer and closer together until Y/n felt like they couldn't breathe properly anymore. Burying his head in the crook of their neck, he relaxed his hold and breathed in slowly. That only lured Y/n in for them to relax too and hug Bokuto back.

"This... This was what I needed this whole time, Bo. Thank you." Y/n mumbled.

"Anytime. Always. For you." He said, smiling more to himself, wishing he could do more than just hug, before releasing Y/n from his hold, even though both of them wanted to stay in each other's arms for much longer. "Now, let's get this party started."

As the next 4 hours passed by in an instant, the two watched a movie and got bored through the second one, deciding to play games, they talked and laughed, made each other eat weird and gross food combos like ketchup on a chocolate bar, uncooked pasta with mustard, mayonnaise with bananas, etc.

There were one or two pleasant combos like bread with ice cream, but then drinking strange liquids (like lemon juice with milk, yogurt with chocolate syrup, melted cheese in sparkly water) was thrown on the table and the two forgot about how dangerous for their stomachs those combos could get. It's understandable to say that the two would undoubtedly be visiting the bathroom at least three times tonight.

The two enjoyed the playlist that Hinata made and it was undoubtedly making Y/n feel more confident, especially when Bokuto practically forced them to dress up and look ready for a night out, although they wouldn't be going anywhere. The songs kept playing and Bokuto hyped Y/n up every time he got the chance, and Y/n, feeling better and better, did the same thing for him. The familiar lyrics would kick in and Bokuto would scream them out making Y/n glare at him and try to shush him a few times before neighbors would come knocking on their door. How could they stay mad at him for that though, when he was so happy and excited, emitting his 'extra' energy. The two of them were singing, dancing, drinking, and had their little party making Y/n think the party they were supposedly going to tomorrow wasn't even a necessity for them to feel better anymore. It was a plan for a fun night they would gladly follow as long as they can stick to Bokuto through the night.

"Do you think we should bring the rope tomorrow with us?" Bokuto said after a comfortable silence. The playlist played out a few times throughout the night and was stopped once the two decided to take a break and lay on Y/n's balcony to watch the stars. It was a small balcony but long enough for them to lay next to each other, a bit cramped together though. They used the break as an excuse for being too tired to keep partying, but the truth was; they were both drunk out of their minds. Too drunk and dizzy to keep jumping around and making fun of each other.

"The rope you and Atsumu used to tie Hinata to that pole that Meian has in his parents' penthouse?"

"It's basically his- but yes, that rope. It's good enough for you guys to try and tie me this time-"

"Bo!" Y/n said in disbelief and laughed. "We're not going to tie anyone up to anything. You and Miya were too drunk to know what you were doing and I still can't figure out how no one was trying to stop you."

"Omi-omi tried to. But I think someone held him back. I don't know, can't remember. But why wouldn't you try and-"

"No way in hell am I going to tie someone to a pole-"

"How about being the one getting tied up?" He interrupted Y/n and both of them stopped for a second before laughing loudly.

"I don't wanna do that either. How about you just take me to the party?"

"That's what I had planned."

"Without the rope."

"Oh... Oh well, it's worth a try. We'll just trap someone on the roof then." He said and shrugged his shoulders.

"Bokuto!" Y/n said and elbowed him slightly, disbelief still evident in their eyes.

"What? Never said we'd do that to you! But you know, if you're up to it-"

"Ugh, shut up~ You and your ideas are giving me a headache." Y/n muttered, grabbing their head with their hands and shutting their eyes closed.

"Atsumu would like the idea though..." Bokuto mumbled.

"Because your dumb ass would offer that to him as a challenge and his crazy ass never backs up on a challenge." Y/n said and both of them chuckled as Bokuto agreed.

Time passed and the two enjoyed each other's company until the clock struck 5 am. They didn't realize the sun would be up in a few moments and that they wouldn't even witness it because they would be too engrossed in what was happening in front of them at the moment of sunrise.

"Thanks. For this. I'm tired as fuck, and feeling the hangover coming for me, but I had such a good time that I'd repeat this night again and again whenever I could."

"Well, I'm only a call away. Hey, Y/n..."

"Ready for the best hangover sunrise ever?" Y/n said, not realizing Bokuto needed to say something that would change the whole course of the night and the day that would follow them.

"Y/n."

"Hm?"

"I... Last night, right? I actually was in the neighborhood. I wanted to see you and hang out. When I realized you weren't in such a good mood, I rushed to the nearest convenience store to buy the stuff we ate and drank. I didn't intend to buy all that until I called you. And... the reason I wanted to see you was.... uh..."

"You're getting serious just like yesterday. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, just- I- Fuck, I can't do this." Bokuto said to himself making Y/n widen their eyes. Bokuto suddenly looked frustrated and nervous, something that would happen only when practice wouldn't go as he would've wanted.

"Bo-" "Would you be mad if I showed you, instead of saying it? I forgot the speech that I practiced out." He suddenly said and Y/n laughed before nodding.

"Yeah, sure. What do you want to sho-" Before they knew it, Bokuto leaned in as quick as he could, grabbing Y/n gently by their throat and pulling them in to connect their lips. Y/n widened their eyes and started to process the fact that Bokuto was kissing them, tilting his head to deepen it once Y/n closed their eyes and reciprocated the energy. Their tongues intertwined and rubbed against each other, their mouths sucked on each other's bottom lip, his lips lowered and traveled all over their neck after he tilted Y/n's head to the side to get more access, sucking here and there lightly as to not leave any purple markings. Bokuto would make sure to make up for that next time he has them under his touch.

Pulling away from the kiss, their foreheads were leaned one against another as the pair breathed heavily. The sun rays shined on them, making them feel sudden waves of heat which annoyed them as if the heat of the make-out session they just had wasn't heating their bodies enough.

Bokuto was so nervous about this. He wanted them to share that kiss through the whole night and the moment finally came. He was a bit scared that Y/n was going to push him away. But once Y/n kissed back, that small string that held him back disappeared and made him almost go feral. The wave of energy he felt, the confidence that overwhelmed him, he never felt like that before. He felt unstoppable like he just won over the whole world. He kind of did. He kind of won over his world.

The morning was here, the two missed the sunrise, but they did get something else. Something that would come in handy for tonight's party otherwise the two wouldn't confidently show they decided to be more than friends. It was something all people needed to have at least once in their lives.

Fuelled egos.

35 notes · View notes

kodzukenanon · 3 years

Note

What would happen if everyone played hide and seek in the dark?

Had to think a little harder on this one 🤔 There's so many things that could happen, and the ask is also a little more vague/up to interpretation.

@tendousatori-official and @meian-shuugo would probably want to seek, possibly take turns?

If Tendou was seeking, he'd laugh every time he knew he was close to someone to scare them, and would say shit like, "I can seeeeee yoooouuuu" Or "I know I'm close~ I'll be there soon~~" If he's hiding, finds the best spots and anticipates when people are close so he can dip to a new one.

If Meian is seeking, he's funny/playful about it. Will grab the girls by the waist and whisper, "Gotcha, sweetheart!" And laugh when they yelp or swoon. *cough*Cece*cough* If Meian is hiding, can never find a spot big enough and usually is the first to get caught. Good sport though, laughs it off, and continues to try to hide when it's his turn.

@kodzuken-queen-cece would probably want to hide by herself because she can't trust anyone not to give her spot away, but she'd be scared the whole time. Might be willing to take @mod-angel with her.

@nishinoya-yuu-rolling-thunder would try to find a spot and it's either he can't find one cause he's too excited and didn't think of the time, or its the best hiding spot ever. No inbetween.

@nishinoya-yuu-rolling-thunder 's mod ex would probably want to go with Cece and Angel, if Cece is bringing Angel, then Mod X is invited. Would playfully tease Cece on being scared.

@sugawara-koshi-official and @thexyakuxmorisuke would probably put a plan of hiding into action and scope out all the best hiding spots before the game starts.

@managersol would hide whereever @daddysamu is hiding, and he's pretty chill so would allow it. Will likely tease her the whole time and give away their hiding spot. Whether because she's squealing or he's laughing is undetermined.

@bodaddybokuto would be real excited that everyone is playing a childhood game. Like Noya, he either sucks at finding a spot or finds a great one. But if the great one is TOO great, he gets bored with hiding or thinks everyone forgot about him and will leave to see what happened.

@menacetheemanager would find a great hiding spot, but become annoyed that they had to stand there for too long. Would order food and leave their hiding spot and when everyone complains, go, "I'm a bad bitch, I do do I want."

@sunatheerintaro would point out good hiding spots, and if someone hiding there he'd rat them out immediately. Probably goes around recording things that are happening and everyone's reactions.

@daddysamu 's mod M would probably plan ahead like Suga and Yaku. Either that or go with the flow and choose a separate spot, farther away from everyone else. Mod S and N would likely hide together and talk the whole time, giving their spots away because they're so loud.

@officialakinori would find an okay hiding spot, get caught, and complain that he didn't have enough time. Would demand a rematch and continue to complain when he's found early every time. Accuses the seekers of cheating.

#anon ask #ceecus squad

18 notes · View notes

corpsentry · 4 years

Text

fandom: haikyuu!! rating: teens pairings: atsumu/hinata, thomas/inunaki, gen stuff characters: the entire msby black jackal starting lineup, but with a heavy narrative focus on meian notes: quarantine fic, stuck in a mountain lodge fic, quarantined in a mountain lodge fic, ensemble dynamics

Nature is healing, the birds are returning, and Miya Atsumu is setting the kitchen on fire.

ao3 mirror

Every evening at six, they have the Animal Crossing debate.

“So,” begins Atsumu. He raps the whiteboard he stole from the hidden walk-in closet. He makes eye contact with each of them in turn except for Inunaki and Thomas and Sakusa, because Inunaki is asleep on Thomas’ shoulder and Thomas is having an existential crisis and Sakusa is studying his nails.

“So,” Shouyou parrots back. Shouyou is the only reason the Animal Crossing debate hasn’t devolved into an Animal Crossing dictatorship. He leans forward in his seat, brushing elbows with Bokuto who is distracted. Bokuto’s Skype hasn’t been working properly all day.

Feeling validated, Atsumu clears his throat. He gestures at the contents of the whiteboard which include his obscene monthly paycheck and Raymond and a list of every online gaming store in Japan.

“Today’s question.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Should I spend a hundred thousand yen—“”

“—Objection your stupid honor, no—” Sakusa.

“—On the Animal Crossing switch which comes with a tempered glass screen protector and the Animal Crossing pouch and the Animal Crossing: New Horizons game and a laminated mini-poster of Raymond or should I—”

Thomas nudges Shuugo’s shoulder. “Is he actually sleeping,” he whispers frantically.

Shuugo glances over at Inunaki. He’s jammed into the side of Thomas' sweater and crunching something imaginary between his teeth. He doesn’t look like he’s thinking of killing someone or thinking of killing someone.

“Yes,” Shuugo whispers back.

“—and destroy the garden,” Atsumu concludes.

The sound of something creaking above them. Bokuto thinks there’s a ghost haunting the attic. Shuugo thinks it might actually be Bokuto haunting the attic. He is simply unaware of the possibility.

“No,” Shouyou says brightly.

“Yes,” Bokuto says distractedly.

Atsumu begins to lean against the whiteboard in an unconscious bid to look like he has everything under control. “What.”

“Don’t destroy the garden and don’t buy the switch,” Shouyou clarifies.

Doubt flashes across Atsumu’s face even though Shouyou has said no to him every single day this week and last week and the week before that as well. Sakusa has produced a nail filer and is filing his nails in his corner of the sofa. Inunaki’s eyes are wide open and he’s looking at Thomas like he wants to kiss him or kill him. Thomas is looking at Shuugo like he wants to kill him.

“Meian-san.”

“Shouyou.”

“Atsumu.” Shouyou is the only reason Atsumu is still sane and also the only reason Atsumu is not quite sane anymore but sort of just dragging himself through each day with his face on the floor.

Sakusa has begun to file the sofa. Atsumu’s whiteboard slides three meters to the left, yanking him off-balance with it. Bokuto gives his phone a half-hearted shake and it bounces harmlessly off Thomas’ shoulder. Inunaki hisses at him.

Atsumu tries again, “is this about the garden or is it about the Animal Crossing. Hey, Shouyou. Are you listening.”

“Where are you going, Meian-san?” Shouyou asks, serene as a Buddha.

“To the bathroom,” Shuugo says after a pause, and then heads up the stairs and locks himself in his room and plays Candy Crush on his phone until he falls asleep.

The lodge was initially Shouyou’s idea. His mother’s friend’s uncle owned a lodge at the base of Mount Fuji and while they usually would have rented it out to AirBNB guests at this time of the year, the website had recently been banned in Japan due to transparency issues and they were good law-abiding citizens, so they stopped. Since they had the space anyway, they said to Shouyou’s mother over tea and rice crackers, would her son be interested in spending a few weeks in the mountains? Of course, there would be a generous discount.

So Shouyou said yes but only discovered later, as he had not thought to ask, that the lodge was not the size of a 2LDK apartment but a small castle. There were six bedrooms and eight bathrooms and a large industry-grade kitchen that contained three bread machines and a brick kiln. There was a barbecue pit in the backyard. They discovered an ouija board presumably left behind by previous inhabitants, Shouyou texted all of them about it over the weekend, and so the deal was done.

Shouyou would go because he liked the mountains and resonated with them spiritually, having cycled up and down one for most of his high school career. Atsumu would go because Shouyou was going. Bokuto would go because two of his friends were going and Sakusa would go because he was promised his own room and two bathrooms, and he was interested in the ouija board. Inunaki would go because he liked mountains despite being the emotional equivalent of a volcano, and Thomas would go because he was still caught in the middle of their fucked-up courtship ritual that had been going on for years now. Shuugo was hired as parental supervision. The Black Jackals could not afford to have their starting lineup incapacitated in the mountains before the next season began.

Naturally this all took place in early March, before the entire situation devolved into mass hysteria and toilet paper shortages and nature’s attempt to reclaim the gacha machines from mankind or whatever. When they arrived at the lodge COVID-19 was only on Sakusa’s mind, because Sakusa read the news religiously. It was also occasionally on Atsumu’s mind, as Atsumu was prone to bouts of sudden and sustained anxiety. However, every time Atsumu made eye contact with Shouyou the matter would be expelled from his mind as a ball, hit out of the ballpark, lands in some deserted parking lot several cities away. So Shuugo figured they would be all right.

Then, of course, they were extremely not all right. But by then all the local supermarket ladies had already fallen in love with Thomas and his cashmere sweaters and his smile. Surely they wouldn’t let them go back down the side of the mountain without trying to tear off a limb. Or two. Or twelve. So they stayed.

On Friday, Atsumu breaks the washing machine. He claims it broke by itself and that he was simply pressing buttons like a good Japanese citizen but Sakusa later extracts the truth from him, which is that he bodyslammed the washing machine before he tried pressing buttons like a good Japanese citizen. Which makes him a shitty fucking Japanese citizen, said Sakusa. Anyway all the buttons he pressed were the wrong ones, so it wouldn’t have made a difference. Shouyou calls his mother’s friend’s uncle to apologize for the washing machine in the evening and he doesn’t seem that bothered. It was turning twenty-five this year, apparently, which made it an immortal god of a washing machine. Someone would have had to put it in its place eventually.

They don’t tell Atsumu that he broke the twenty-five-year-old washing machine though, because Sakusa’s mad about having to hand-wash all their clothes from now on. Additionally, Atsumu seems to be experiencing emotions in relation to the washing machine as he doesn’t host the Animal Crossing Debate for the first time since they got stuck here, and goes to sulk in Shouyou’s room instead.

Shuugo knocks on Shouyou’s door after dinner, meaning to check on him and make sure Atsumu hasn’t ripped a hole through the bedroom wall that Shouyou shares with Bokuto. He’s a little concerned but not too concerned. There are sounds coming from behind the door, which means that he still has at least one spiker or one setter.

He sticks his head inside. He sticks his head back outside.

He regrets everything.

“Meian-san,” Atsumu says several moments later, fully-clothed and experiencing even more emotions than he had been experiencing when he first found out about the washing machine.

“No.”

“...I’m sorry.”

Shuugo doesn’t have it in him to meet his eyes. He passes along Sakusa’s message with less bite than Sakusa had probably intended, and then goes to the kitchen to look for a drink.

NINTENDO SWTICH @m_atsumu

You Will Never Know The Value Of A Moment Until It Becomes A Memory.

“What do you mean you finished all the peach purunto.”

“Uh.” Thomas stares at his feet. He stares at the ant presumably crawling on the floor beside his feet. He stares at Shuugo, who is watching him from the big sofa in the living room and drinking a pouch of grape purunto. “Um,” he repeats in a slightly higher-pitched voice.

Shuugo salutes him for good luck and Thomas' shoulder twitches in response. He can’t make any big movements now or Inunaki will be startled and then try to kill him. This has been the state of affairs between them for a while now, since the Izakaya in December where a waiter tried to take Thomas home and Inunaki almost set their private room on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

The truth is Thomas doesn’t even like peach purunto. He likes grape purunto because he thinks the peach-flavored stuff doesn’t taste artificial enough. Everyone on the team knows this except for Inunaki, who Thomas has been engaging in a fucked-up courtship ritual for the last fifty-nine years. Everyone also knows that Shuugo and Bokuto have been stealing things from the fridge after midnight and not Thomas, who sleeps like a newborn baby placed in subzero temperatures and thus retires to bed early every night. But Thomas isn’t in a position to tell Inunaki anything.

That being said, neither is Shuugo. Shuugo squeezes the plastic pouch dry. He props his arms up on the back of the sofa, chewing peacefully on the last of his konnyaku, while Inunaki approaches Thomas and Thomas approaches the counter.

Thomas makes a sound when his hip bumps into the drawer. “Sorry,” he says again on instinct. Oh Thomas, Shuugo thinks wistfully.

Inunaki stares up at him. Shuugo can’t see his expression but he can picture it perfectly in his mind. It’s the same expression Inunaki wears when he’s about to receive a nasty serve. It’s the same expression Inunaki wears when he’s deciding what drink to get from the vending machine outside the gym.

“Peach purunto is my favorite.”

“I know.” Thomas does know. Poor guy. Shuugo sends him another prayer.

“So what.”

“What?”

Inunaki’s voice almost cracks here, as if he were the one being cornered and not the one actually doing the cornering: “Am I not your favorite?”

Thomas' knees give out. He slides to the floor. The two of them vanish behind the kitchen counter in a dramatic moment full of romantic tension and fear.

“Is that allowed?” he asks in a voice so high-pitched and breathy and small it probably wouldn’t register on a decibel meter or the Richter scale.

“Do you like me or do you not?”

Shuugo flops silently back onto the sofa and rolls to the ground, excusing himself from the room. He doesn’t need to watch this part.

Or maybe he should have because apparently Thomas said no out of embarrassment and Inunaki flipped him off and stole the third button off his shirt and now there’s a problem. Thomas takes a swig of his shochu mixed with grape purunto. “There’s a problem, Meian-san,” he says miserably. “I only have one good shirt. And now I look like a gravure model.”“Because of the button?”

Another swig. “The button is enough.”

Downstairs Bokuto is talking to Akaashi the shounen manga editor on Skype or at least trying to. Upstairs Sakusa is ransacking the hidden walk-in closet for more cleaning supplies. Last Shuugo checked, Atsumu’s room was empty. Shouyou’s was not. Shuugo is never sticking his head into anything without acquiring firm vocal confirmation of his safety ever again.

“Where is Inunaki-san anyway?” Thomas looks right through him to the other side of the world where he is probably having the time of his life in Paris.

Shuugo thinks about it. He sips at his peach purunto.

“The backyard?”

The story goes that they all wound up in a lodge the size of a small castle at the base of Mount Fuji but then the world blew itself up and everyone got sick. Their supervisors decided, talking anxiously to Shuugo over the phone, that it would actually be better for the Black Jackals’ starting lineup to hang out in the lodge until this whole thing blew over. Was that possible? Please, Meian-san? Please?

Meian Shuugo, being completely defenseless against the word please, immediately turned to Shouyou. Shouyou, being completely defenseless as a general state of being, called up his mother’s friend’s uncle and offered them a generous portion of his obscene paycheck. And Atsumu’s obscene paycheck. And all their paychecks, actually.

Of course you can stay, they said over tea and rice crackers that could not be seen but could be heard over the crackling speaker of Shouyou’s Nokia phone. We don’t really want to go up there ourselves right now anyway, what with the cruise ship and the epidemic and everything.

Thanks, said Shouyou. In the background Sakusa was making Atsumu sign a contract to stop using Sakusa’s second bathroom.

Are you sure you’ll be okay, Shouyou’s mother’s friend’s uncle added as an afterthought.

Shouyou laughed brilliantly and confidently into the receiver.

“Don’t worry, Kishimoto-san,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”

Bokuto video calls Akaashi the shounen manga editor every night. They’re boyfriends, so this makes sense. What doesn’t make sense to Shuugo is that Bokuto conducts these video calls in the living room. He has either not discovered the wall socket in his room or decided that he is above it. He has also either not discovered that Akaashi, his shounen manga editor boyfriend, is very busy, or has decided to ignore the fact entirely.

They don’t use Zoom because Akaashi the shounen manga editor has qualms about private user information and where his is going. But Akaashi doesn’t seem to say anything during any of their calls anyway, so no one’s really sure why Bokuto bothers calling to begin with. Is Akaashi the shounen manga editor even real? Is Bokuto imagining things the way he is the ghost haunting the attic? One time Shuugo walked past the sofa while Bokuto was on it. His laptop screen was blank.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto says, stretching the ‘a’ like a piece of taffy formed from several pieces of taffy stuck together.

“...About the ghost in the attic...”

“...Tsum-tsum broke the washing machine...”

“...I think his name is Jonathan...”

Shuugo gives Bokuto one last glance before leaving the living room with his chips. Who the hell is Jonathan? Who is Bokuto talking to? Today, as well, the mystery remains unsolved.

HEY HEU HEY @b_koutarou

MY SKYPE ISN’T WORKING SOMEONE PLEASE HELP

hey @k_tetsurou

Are you sure it isn’t working. Maybe the other person just doesn’t want to talk?

HEV HEY HEN @b_koutarou

SUDDENLY I CANNOT READ

They all find it unnerving that Atsumu politely agrees to do the dishes for the next two weeks as emotional compensation for breaking the washing machine. They find it unnerving that Atsumu doesn’t snap back when Sakusa declares that he is inferior to business majors over dinner on Tuesday. They’re all so busy being generally unnerved that it doesn’t occur to them that Miya Atsumu may have other plans that have temporarily deterred him from being an asshole, such as being an asshole at a later date.

“GONNA TAKE MY HORSE TO THE—”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

“ —OLD TOWN ROAD—”

“WHAT’S HAPPENING BOKUTO-SAN?”

“RIDE TIL I CAN’T—”

“MEIAN-SAN.”

“THOMAS?”

“ATSUMU.”

Silence. Atsumu turns to look at them. “Shouyou!”

“Atsumu!” Shouyou takes a step towards Atsumu from behind the sofa, where the rest of them are gathered like one’s online shopping information hides behind a firewall. He holds his hands up in front of him, palms out, to indicate non-aggression. “What are you doing?”

“I’m washing the dishes,” says Atsumu, who has clearly given up on washing the dishes.

“And what are those?”

“Portable speakers. Found ‘em in the hidden walk-in closet.”

Shouyou tries to get closer but Atsumu holds up the kitchen hose like a knife and waves it at him. Every decent industry-grade kitchen comes with two meters of kitchen hose these days. It’s a necessary self-defense tactic.

“Come any closer and I’ll hose you. Even if you’re Shouyou.”

“Do you not love me?” Shouyou asks, heartbroken, probably.

“Does he really love him?” Sakusa comments from behind the sofa firewall.

Thomas and Sakusa exchange a look of equal parts horror and indifference.

“I love you,” Atsumu says, blissfully unaware of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s general existence at this time. He is in Clear Pain. The hose is trembling in his hand and Shuugo fears suddenly that he may let go of it. The water being emptied at breakneck speed into the sink can be dealt with later. If it decides to empty itself in another direction, they will need more than a sofa to save them.

“But I,” Atsumu lowers the hose, shuts the water off. His hands are still soapy and there’s an odd, unhinged look in his eyes. “I can’t wash the dishes in silence.”

Shouyou takes three steps forward. “Why?”

“Well, I mean.” Atsumu tilts his head to one side like a serial killer in a serial killer movie does in the moments before they jump the main character’s best friend who is dictated by cultural tradition to be the first to die. Or maybe Atsumu is the main character’s best friend. Or maybe Atsumu doesn’t watch any serial killer movies.

He tilts his head to the other side quietly.

“It’s boring?”

They let him keep the portable speakers.

Shuugo calls his wife and kids on Skype every other night. On every other other night he wanders around the lodge like a ghost until the early hours of the morning, thinking about unresolved high school conflicts and the next V League season and his grandparents up in Hokkaido. Sometimes he checks the attic for ghosts. Usually he doesn’t. He’s confident he’ll find Bokuto there one day.

“Why don’t you just come back?” his wife asked, the first time they Skyped. He had to explain that he trusted his wife with all his heart when it came to looking after herself and their kids. But, and Shuugo said this earnestly and passionately, he didn’t trust a single member of the MSBY Black Jackals to look after themselves, except maybe Barnes, who was not present. They were professional volleyball players, not professional adults. No one ever really becomes a professional adult.

“This is a good chance for them to learn,” his wife commented, patting the top of Kenta’s head like a buzzer in a gameshow, but more gently.

Shuugo shrugged. “This is a major historical event. They’ll learn some other time.”

Kenta pushed himself up into the camera and said something indistinguishable. It was about Doraemon or the cockroach infestation episode of Gintama and Shuugo wasn’t sure which. He waved back at his eldest son. His eldest son nodded gravely and was buzzered back into his mother’s lap.

“Say bye to daddy, Kenta.”

“Insect repellent.”

“Love you too, kid.”

Tonight is one of those long, sleepless nights. Shuugo ducks into the hidden walk-in closet to see what’s been stolen this week, makes a note of who to yell at the next day, and ducks back out before he can meet anyone he doesn’t want to meet. He checks the toilet paper reserves. He spends an hour lying on the sofa in the living room by himself, scrolling through photos of his family and his dog. His wife sends them every day except for Thursday when she has to catch the live simulcast of her favorite drama on NHK. Kenta looks like he’s managing; Kohki, less so. But then and again, Kohki is three.

He dozes off on the sofa. In his dreams he’s fifteen again and everything sucks except for volleyball, which he doesn’t suck at, which he’s the best at. There’s a boy he thinks he might be in love with but first he wants to get a popsicle from the corner store. Wait a minute, he tells the boy. I’ll be right back. He runs to the corner store and buys his popsicle and runs back to the place where he had promised to meet the boy and it feels like no time has passed at all. Maybe three seconds, maybe three years. But the boy isn’t there anymore. The sun is setting. The street is empty, and there’s a volleyball bouncing by itself at the far end of it, silhouetted in red and orange and gray.

In the morning he’s awoken by yelling from three different directions and the smell of something burning. It’s unbearably, saccharinely sweet so it must be Atsumu again, perhaps with the help and passionate support of Inunaki. The time on the clock reads something fifty-two and he can’t be bothered to squint harder. It doesn’t really matter. Sun’s up anyway.

“MEIAN-SAN.”

He clears his throat. “COMING.”

He sighs, shakes the cramps out of his shoulders, and heads off to save his kids. The ridiculously tall and fast and powerful ones with the impulse control of a flock of mature geese. The ones who play volleyball.

Inunaki wants to go grocery shopping. This is not news as everyone generally wants to go grocery shopping, barring Atsumu who has been living in a bubble of sustained anxiety since they got here and is only maintaining his sanity because of Old Town Road and Hinata Shouyou. But this week Inunaki seems particularly agitated about it. He starts the morning off by trying to make sourdough and destroys the first bread machine. He gets pissed about that and destroys the second bread machine. He pulls down the giant projector screen in front of the sofa and blasts K-ON at full volume all afternoon while Sakusa tries to film a skincare tutorial and Bokuto tries to nap and the whole house smells like sourdough starter. Shuugo almost regrets drinking his peach purunto. No, he chides himself. You will not regret what cannot be changed. Like peach purunto and sake parties. Like sake parties.

In contrast Thomas has always seemed the most hinged of the lot, though recently Shuugo has been approaching the astronomical revelation that this may in fact be a false impression created to lure you into trusting him with your life. After all, borderline-nonexistent impulse control is an entry requirement for all members of the MSBY Black Jackals except for Barnes, who is not present. Every once in a while Shuugo catches Thomas staring off in Inunaki’s vague direction like a chicken stares at a smaller chicken. It worries him.

Through the combined efforts of Shouyou, Bokuto, and Atsumu, they trap Inunaki in Sakusa’s second bathroom without Sakusa’s knowledge and convince him to watch a purunto infomercial on Sakusa’s laptop, also borrowed without his knowledge. The infomercial is something like ten minutes long. It’s a contingency measure arranged by Sakusa several days ago. If you need to stop Inunaki-san, he said last Friday or Monday or perhaps Sunday, dabbing at his cheeks with pore cleanser while Shuugo leaned against the doorway of his first bathroom and played Candy Crush. Then use this.

So they use it. Inunaki is successfully eclipsed from the equation and Thomas and Shuugo haul ass to the old Toyota parked outside and while Sakusa dreams of whatever Sakusa is capable of dreaming of, like clean oyster shells and hand sanitizer commercials probably, they drive down the side of the mountain to the supermarket.

Meian Shuugo grew up in a prefecture just outside of Tokyo. It was the kind of bland suburban neighborhood that wasn’t particularly interesting and contained only three convenience stores, located next to the police station, behind the police station, and several hundred meters away from the police station beside the supermarket. By extension, the supermarket Meian Shuugo grew up with was not particularly interesting either. It had all of the aisles a supermarket was expected to have but it didn’t have a playground for kids or a box television for kids or a giant stuffed Pikachu in the candy aisle. Shuugo, being a kid for most of his childhood, was unimpressed.

The supermarket in the town located half an hour shy of their lodge reminds him, acutely, of his unimpressive youth. He walks through the sliding glass doors and is assaulted with upbeat music, chatter, crying babies. Perhaps in another life he was born in this town and grew up bounding up the side of a mountain, doing mountain-child things like chasing beetles and building rafts to float down the creeks that were embedded in its face. Perhaps in another life he grew up the exact same person.

Thomas hands him a list, then goes to grab a shopping cart. They work methodically; Shuugo reads out Thomas’ neat, Sharpied-in handwriting and Thomas grabs things from the aisle at record speeds. Shuugo wonders, this week as well, if Thomas is secretly telepathic.

“Toilet paper, the eight-pack.”

“Got it.”

No, he corrects himself. If Thomas were telepathic he would not have said no to Inunaki, who clearly wants to resolve the conflict they launched in the Izakaya last December even if his actions seem to say otherwise. Thomas hauls the toilet paper off the highest shelf and deposits it, with care, in their cart. Thomas the shopping cart chauffeur. Thomas the good guy.

“You’re a good guy, you know,” Shuugo says seriously. There’s not much left on their list; eggs, sake, dried seaweed sheets for Atsumu who has recently added it to his collection of coping mechanisms he picked off of self-care articles on Buzzfeed.

Thomas the shopping cart chauffeur turns to look at him. “I am?”

“Course you are.” Shuugo squats down in front of the chocolate section. His hand hovers over the thin row of plastic Chocobaby’s. It’s Kenta’s favorite.

Thomas laughs quietly. “Inunaki-san doesn’t seem to think so.”

If he buys the Chocobaby he’s sure Thomas won’t call him out for it. But Atsumu might, if he gets jumpy enough and his brain decides to latch onto it. And Sakusa definitely will. And even if neither of those things happen, who will eat it?

Shuugo sighs. “No, Thomas,” he says, stands up, brushes off the front of his pants. He grabs a bag of mini M&Ms resolutely, dumps it in their cart. “He does.”

“He does?” Adriah Thomas, twenty-eight this year and six-foot-seven, tall enough to strike fear in the hearts of most modern modes of transport including the Boeing 377, looks at him quizzically.

“You’re surprisingly dense, Thomas.” Shuugo takes over his chauffeur service for the time being and wheels their cart down the aisle towards the frozen goods section. His starting lineup may not be fond of tiny unimpressive chocolate pellets but he knows for a fact that ice cream will make the next week that much more bearable. “Maybe that’s how you got this far in life.”

“What does that mean, Meian-san?”

“C’mon. Let’s get more peach purunto.”

NINTENDO SWTICH???????????? @m_tsumu

instagram user @joshokfine is the only remaining source of stability in my life. be like joshokfine. be better.

It starts pouring just a little shy of four in the morning on Saturday. Ordinarily one would be awake to witness this but they’ve been stuck up here for four weeks now, or maybe five, or maybe twenty-seven. No one sleeps when they’re expected to anymore except for Sakusa, who has packed enough moisturizing face masks to last him through the second coming of Christ.

So it starts raining and then the wind starts screaming and the windows start yelling and Shuugo is in the kitchen pouring himself something like his seventh cup of sake with sparkling fuji apple juice when Atsumu shows up at the end of the hallway in a giant pink quilt.

“Meian-san,” he croaks.

“Morning,” Shuugo says cheerfully, toasting him from the kitchen counter.

“It’s raining.”

“Yes.”

“It’s thundering.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t sleep.”

Shuugo sets his glass down. He combs a hand through his hair and cringes. When was the last time he showered? Yes. No? He removes himself from the kitchen, steps out into the dim orange light of the living room. Atsumu has designer eye bags and designer eye bags beneath his designer eye bags. The kid looks like he’s been through hell. Or had a nightmare about it. Or had a nightmare about something else, like a pandemic or Raymond from Animal Crossing or breaking up with his boyfriend in the middle of a pandemic while still being without Raymond from Animal Crossing.

Shuugo wipes his hand off on his shirt and clears his throat. “What can I do for you?”

The lodge is fucking huge. That was the first thought Shuugo had when they’d finally finished lugging all their shit up the side of the mountain and Thomas’ old Toyota had been parked in the clearing outside and Sakusa and Atsumu were arguing loudly about optimal bathtub water temperatures just beyond the front door. Seriously, Shuugo mused, craning his neck, this lodge is fucking huge. The living room was not a living room so much as it was a giant open space with a vaulted, three-storey ceiling and spiraling staircases that led off on each side to narrower, but equally majestic, hallways. Carved into the eastern wall of the first floor was a large, industry-grade kitchen which contained a walk-in fridge and a brick kiln. In the center of the floor was a floral sofa.

They argued over whether the space that the sofa, and the accompanying automated projector screen and thirty-nine succulents, occupied should be called a living room at all. This went on for the first few days. In the interim Shouyou and Thomas explored the kitchen and Atsumu explored setting the kitchen on fire. Atsumu also explored the door at the end of the northern hallway on the third floor, and discovered the hidden walk-in closet that probably hadn’t been opened since the economic bubble burst in the early 90s. Bokuto explored the attic above the third floor via a trap-door in the ceiling and declared that it was haunted. Inunaki drank peach purunto. Sakusa found a hornet's nest in the woods nearby and tried to bring it back.

They never did get to have the full-blown debate about whether the sofa space should be called a living room, because by the start of the second week or the third or maybe the tenth, maybe the eighteenth, the world had stumbled backwards into the figurative hornet's nest of life itself. It emerged from the immediate aftermath covered in burns and uglier burns and violent, angry scrapes. As China began to pull itself together by the seams its neighbors both immediate and distantly-related began to show symptoms, keeling over in the dystopian-movie-dust.

Come April, they were all in the thick of it. Of what, you ask? No one knew. But they sure were.

There’s something about rain and nighttime that demands your attention. Shut away in your highrise apartments and your suburban houses, your grandmother’s old Japanese-style estate; shut away at home with the lights on and the world off, the world cordoned out; the rain is the only thing that reaches you. The sound of it. The pitter-patter. The footsteps.

Meian Shuugo invites the rain to shut the fuck up as he herds his starting setter to the sofa. Atsumu has been going through it for a while now. They all know this, the way they know he talks to his twin on Zoom some nights because he doesn’t care for private user information and what happens to his. However, no one mentions it because unlike Bokuto, Atsumu has discovered the wall socket in his room, and decided to use it.

“Shouyou’s asleep,” Atsumu explains and for the hundredth time or maybe the thousandth, he doesn’t think numbers are real anymore, Shuugo marvels at how tenderly he says Shouyou’s name. If someone had said his name like that when he was twenty-three Shuugo would have driven off immediately and bought them a ring or challenged them to a Beyblade fight. He wonders if Shouyou will do either of those things one day. If he’ll get the chance to.

Shuugo hums. The star of the lodge, beyond the brick kiln with the unidentifiable bones and the thirty-eight succulents, is the chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Usually it’s bright as ass but it’s raining outside today and it’s four, so they’ve got the lighting mode set to Orange And Moody. Which, Shuugo gathers, seems to be the correct setting.

Atsumu opens his mouth, still wrapped up in the giant pink quilt that he probably stole from the hidden walk-in closet. “I’m being an asshole right now, aren’t I?” he asks, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Not right now right now, if that’s what you’re talking about—”

“—Meian-san.” Atsumu is unimpressed and he shows it too much. If he wants to look unimpressed he should look dimly unimpressed or at most vaguely unimpressed, or he’ll come off as being over-invested in the whole affair. Granted, the kid’s always been bad at handling his emotions. But this is a moment of what Shuugo recognizes to be shaky vulnerability. Even for Miya Atsumu.

Shuugo smiles. “Yeah?”

“That’s not funny.” Atsumu sinks further into the sofa, vanishing between two very large floral cushions.

No, Shuugo has half a mind to say. You’re not very funny. I try not to tell you that because Sakusa says it enough for all of us but really, most of your jokes suck.

“Well,” Shuugo says instead, thoughtful. “What does being an asshole mean to you?”

“Uh. An inconvenience?”

“What does the current situation look like to you?”

“An inconvenience?”

Shuugo claps his hands together and then winces in very quick succession. If he’s judging this right then there’s a high chance Inunaki’s still awake thinking about the Izakaya they went to last December, and Bokuto might still be in the attic. He should stop.

“That’s right,” says Shuugo, not stopping. “If being an asshole is about being an inconvenience then the whole world’s being inconvenienced right now. In general. Does this look like optimal functioning to you?” He gestures broadly around him and hopes that Atsumu doesn’t think he’s pointing at the thirty-eight succulents.

“Because it isn’t. Everyone’s tired, Atsumu. Everyone wants things to start getting better.

“So given that we’re basically living in the asshole of the universe right now, I don’t think you’re being an asshole. Do I wish you’d stop listening to Old Town Road while doing the dishes? Yes. But do I wish Thomas and Inunaki would stop pretending they never want to see each other’s faces again off-court like the two main leads in a Korean drama? Yes. Do I wish I were at home right now in Tokyo with Mai and Kenta and Kohki? Of course.

“But no one gives a damn about what I want in the asshole of the universe. So no one gives a damn about you either.” Shuugo reaches for his sake. “What I’m trying to say is: buy your switch.”

He takes a sip of his sparkling fuji apple sake thing. He’s good at holding his liquor but the alcohol’s loosened his tongue and the rain isn’t letting up and it’s late or it’s early, depending on who you ask. Depending on who you are, and what you’re afraid of. He wonders if Atsumu’s still thinking about the thirty-eight succulents. The thirty-ninth has been missing for a few weeks now. No one knows for how long exactly. Time, remember?

Atsumu furrows his brows. He seems to be thinking very intently about something. Shuugo hopes it’s the fate of the universe.

“So, the Animal Crossing edition,” he says slowly, the color returning to his cheeks. “Do you think I should get that one?”

Around them the rain continues to fall. Every once in a while a bolt of lightning comes within an arm’s breadth of their tiny sanctuary away from the world and the toilet paper shortages and all the suffering and cruelty and unfairness. It lands at their feet. Light erupts from the ground like a star splitting in half and sticks to their faces, their hands, their teeth. For half a second, the interior of the lodge turns so white, it almost blinds them.

Shuugo wakes up at five in the evening on the sofa. His toes aren’t frozen solid the way they were the last time he fell asleep on the sofa. He sits up. Something pink and fluffy slides off his chest.

Inunaki is yelling at Thomas from the second floor. They’ve made an error in the toilet paper calculations, or someone’s used up all eight rolls in a week, or both. Inunaki’s disappointed and upset and he wants to get out of the bathroom. And he wants to talk about the Izakaya incident. And he wants a peach purunto.

Shuugo scrubs the heel of his hand down his face. He stretches his arms over his head. Then he rolls off the sofa with the quilt still drawn tight around his shoulders like a cape. And so begins another day in the life of Meian Shuugo, father and husband and professional volleyball player, and motivational speaker, and friend.

A conversation between Shouyou and Atsumu, as overheard by Bokuto who was taking a really big dump in (Sakusa’s bathroom) (but don’t tell him that) (no one tell Sakusa anything no really I will sic my ghost on you):

(Shouyou, I have something to tell you.)

(Let me guess. You ordered the switch.)

(Huh????? How the fuck do you know I ordered the switch.)

(You talked to Meian-san, didn’t you?)

(What the fuck. Are you telepathic?)

(No, Atsumu. I’m your boyfriend.)

A conversation between Thomas and Inunaki, as overheard by Atsumu who was hiding from his demons in (Sakusa’s bathroom) (who the fuck owns a bathroom anyway) (this is a communal household) (I am not hiding from my demons I am engaged in an act of civil protest):

(Inunaki-san.)

(I know you’re not the one who finished all the peach purunto.)

(Oh. Okay.)

In a surprising twist of events Sakusa has not only brought enough moisturizing face masks to last him until the second coming of Christ, but also stashed a metric fuckton of toilet paper in his second bathroom.

“I knew you would disappoint us some day,” he says neutrally to Thomas, who goes off to cry in front of the barbecue pit for twenty minutes.

“It was partially my fault too,” Shuugo says, feeling apologetic for some reason.

Sakusa watches Thomas go with the face of a merciless, unsmiling god. “But mainly his.”

In spite of the hornet's nest he tried to bring back in the first week, Sakusa consents to the public use of his second bathroom. He deletes the contract he made Atsumu sign that had previously prevented him from legally entering, but refuses to let them port the twenty-four toilet paper rolls jammed under his sink to any of the other bathrooms. It’s a personal thing, he says while peeling his third milk honey face mask of the day off with his fingertips. Who are they to complain? It’s his toilet paper.

Regardless, the toilet paper doesn’t grant him immunity from Meian Shuugo, who despite his stunning alcohol consumption record is in fact still the parental supervision figure in this household. This gives Shuugo certain rights such as the right to walk into rooms without knocking, though he’s decided to stop doing that and become a better person, and the right to use the barbecue pit after ten. Also, if he says they’re going to have a Ghibli movie night, they’re going to have a Ghibli movie night.

They have the Ghibli movie night. On Sunday. Or Friday. Or whatever. Whatever. They have it.

When Shuugo was a kid his family would sit on their ugly living room couch and watch Ghibli movies together instead of working through their disagreements with transparency and care. This is partially why Shuugo was not a kid for as long as most kids, but he can tell you exactly which scene comes after the fat cat in The Cat Returns gets stuck in the giant vat of pink Jell-o. He can also tell you, with full confidence, that Ghibli movies will do things to you. What kind of things, you ask? Does it matter?

Once again, they head into the hidden walk-in closet on the third floor and return with piles of blankets, quilts, and a bag of Calbee chips without an expiry date. On the way out Shuugo notices shuffling from above him and discovers, for the first and hopefully last time in his life, Bokuto Koutarou in the attic having a serious conversation with an owl.

“His name is Aka,” says Bokuto.

“Very sly of you,” says Shuugo. “I’m not going to ask why there’s an owl up here.”

“He only visits sometimes.”

“Okay. Great.”

Bokuto follows him downstairs. Shuugo picks a feather out of his hair and wonders if this is what zookeepers feel like. They collect Sakusa from his bedroom after peeling off twelve honey-and-lavender face masks, and make a stop at Thomas' room. The door creaks open after a few seconds and Inunaki sticks his head out. His hair is tousled and his eyes are puffy.

“What do you want,” he says.

“We’re having a movie night.” Shuugo resists the urge to pat his head. He may be turning thirty this year but sometimes he feels like he’s eighty-five and everyone else on his team is four and he has to do something to make sure they grow up right.

Inunaki follows him and Sakusa and Bokuto down the stairs and Thomas sneaks out of the room afterwards when he thinks no one is looking. They are actually all looking and rightfully so, seeing as it is Thomas’ room they just stopped by and Inunaki should not have been there at all. But no one says anything. Thomas tip-toes down the stairs in all his Boeing 377 glory. Inunaki goes to the fridge.

Shouyou and Atsumu have returned from the hidden walk-in closet and have started building a fort in front of the projector screen. The process consists of Atsumu lying face-down on the floor, motionless, while Shouyou throws things with a hardness rating of less than five at him: a blanket, a stuffed Pikachu, a bolster.

“What movie are we starting with,” Atsumu asks.

Shuugo salutes him from the kitchen even though Atsumu can’t see him. “Princess Mononoke.”

Atsumu lifts his head for a moment and stares past the floor-to-ceiling window to the other side of the world, where he is having the time of his life in Florence.

“Good,” he says. Then Shouyou throws a slightly larger stuffed Pikachu at him, and he disappears from sight.

In Atsumu’s words, everything sucks like fucking shit. In Sakusa’s words, everything’s piss-awful. In Thomas' words everything is sort of unbearable and in Inunaki’s words where is the peach purunto. In Bokuto’s words Akaashi the shounen manga editor is more stressed than the entirety of Japan combined and needs some time to himself. In Shuugo’s words, ew. Ew, ew, ew.

“Ew,” Atsumu says when the mountain god’s head gets decapitated and the screen fills up with the blue liquid-y stuff that mountain gods are apparently made of. Inunaki gives him a look that’s so utterly and completely disgusted that Atsumu excuses himself from being Shouyou’s armrest and stands up.

“You wanna fight, Inunaki-san? You wanna fight?”

Inunaki does not detach himself from Thomas’ cashmere sweater. “No.”

“Atsumu, I can’t see the screen,” Shouyou says sleepily, and Atsumu’s expression does a one-eighty off a cliff and dies.

“Oh. Sorry.”

It’s three in the morning by the time they get to the fifth movie. Or is it six? Shuugo decides it doesn’t matter and then pulls a fast one on all of them by putting in Grave of the Fireflies which, Sakusa complains, is too dry for this time of the year. In spite of that, Sakusa is the only one who manages to watch it from start to finish, his eyes glued to the screen while he files his nails discreetly in his corner of the sofa. Beside him Inunaki has fallen asleep against Thomas’ shoulder and Thomas has fallen asleep against the headrest, Sakusa having pushed him gingerly off of him half an hour ago. Bokuto is snoring loudly with his face in Inunaki’s armpit. Beside Bokuto Atsumu is asleep with his head in Shouyou’s lap, and Shouyou is mumbling something incoherently about rice.

Meian Shuugo reaches for the remote control and turns the projector off.

“You should go to sleep too,” he tells Sakusa. He reaches for the blankets and begins to drape them carefully over the sofa in criss-crossing patterns.

Sakusa yawns. “When do you think this will end.”

Shuugo shrugs. “Eventually.”

Sakusa inclines his head, then stands up and stretches. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.” He collects his belongings from the coffee table and goes to the kitchen for water.

“No, thank you for the toilet paper.”

“Self-preservation skills. You learn them early on in life when you’re me.”

They stop having the Animal Crossing Debate because Atsumu’s switch arrives next week, delivered by a courier in an inflatable T-Rex costume who says he’s here on god’s business. But they keep going with the whiteboard and the six p.m. discussions and everyone jammed up on the big sofa in the living room. It still doesn’t feel like a living room and the lodge still feels like a castle, complete with ghosts and unidentifiable bones and the ouija board Sakusa’s smuggled away to his room. But when they roll up all the curtains, the floor-to-ceiling windows start communicating with god or something, and the sun does a cool break-and-enter routine that ends in fireworks. Everything it touches goes up in flames. It’s kind of beautiful.

“Today’s question.” Thomas raps the whiteboard they stole from the hidden walk-in closet weakly. “Should we have spaghetti for dinner?”

Atsumu looks up from his switch, and Shouyou follows. “Did you read my tweet?”

“Atsumu. I follow you on Twitter.”

“Oh.” Atsumu looks back down at his switch. On Shouyou’s insistence he’s recently downloaded Kirby Star Allies. He is surprisingly into it.

Inunaki raises his hand. “Objection your honor,” he says. “I don’t think we should have spaghetti for dinner because it sucks.”

Thomas makes a face at him. It doesn’t really work because he’s six-foot-seven and wearing a Victorian suit he found in the hidden walk-in closet, but apparently it works for Inunaki, who repeats, with more conviction, “it sucks.”

“It does not suck,” Thomas insists. He begins to lean against the whiteboard in an unconscious bid to look like he’s not emotionally affected by Inunaki’s words.

“Can we have rice,” Sakusa says. “We’re Japanese.”

“I’m not Japanese.”

“You’re Inunaki’s boyfriend. Honorary Japanese.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Sure it is,” says Bokuto, who is back to texting Akaashi for the time being instead of calling him on Skype. He now carries a power bank and a cable with him everywhere. To the bathroom. To the barbecue pit. To the woods.

“Why don’t we have both?” Shouyou suggests. Shouyou is the literal and metaphorical light of their lives right now, although Sakusa would be hard-pressed to admit it unless they gave him another bathroom. Shouyou also comes up with some of the most god-awful ideas sometimes. Like inviting everyone to a lodge in the mountains during the off-season and getting them trapped in a major historical event. Like trying to live each day to the best of his ability as if he’s Rapunzel from Disney’s Tangled and not twenty-three and severely, inhumanely sleep-deprived. He still wakes up at five-thirty every morning. Shuugo asked him about it once. He said he needed the time to meditate.

“Why don’t you just meditate later?” Shuugo went on, hanging over the back of the sofa and watching Shouyou channel his inner Buddha of peace for something like the third time that week. The sun had not yet risen but it was beginning to put in efforts towards it. A thin strip of gold ran horizontally between the land and the sky, dividing them in jagged and uneven strokes.

“It’s not the same,” Shouyou said, exhaling through his mouth, eyes closed. Shuugo wondered briefly if he was bothering him, then figured that Shouyou would tell him if he was.

“I need to be awake each morning to make sure the world’s still there. To say good morning.”

Shuugo picked idly at the upholstery. “What happens if you aren’t there?”

“Who knows,” Shouyou laughed, brilliantly and confidently, and in that moment Shuugo understood for the first time in his life how he alone had not succumbed to the timeless insanity of quarantine. Perhaps in another life Shouyou had been born tall and powerful and with the kind of instinct and skill that Kageyama Tobio carried around on his shoulders all day. In this one, he had seen the second coming of Christ once already, and built himself a new skin in its wake.

It was the routines. The morning meditation and the rolled eggs and the five-hour-nap in Atsumu’s room. The evening runs through the woods and the card games at night. It was Atsumu’s Animal Crossing Debate and the chaos that always followed, the chaos that generally followed the MSBY Black Jackals everywhere they went, as if they had been born into incredulity and outrageousness and passion. Passion for their sport. Passion for life itself.

They aren’t professional adults. No one ever becomes a professional adult. They try to be professional siblings and children and lovers, professional commuters and pastry chefs and shopping cart pushers. They try to leave their suburban neighborhoods and the boys they never get to see again behind. They try to be kind to themselves, even as the world begins to slide resolutely off a cliff.

And they fail. And everything sucks. And everything’s sort of unbearable right now. Even Sakusa has stopped checking his phone religiously. They’d rather watch Grave of the Fireflies ten more times than put on NHK news.

So ew. Ew at the present state of the universe. Ew at Shuugo’s hair. Ew at the amount of money Atsumu spent on his Animal Crossing switch which came with a tempered glass screen protector and the Animal Crossing pouch and the Animal Crossing: New Horizons game and a laminated mini-poster of Raymond.

And fine. Because what else can they do now but shut up and keep going? If there’s a God up there he’s definitely laughing at them with his hands full of nail clippers and clean surgical masks and health, cash, all the forgiveness the world needs right now. He’s probably making coffee as they run themselves into the ground, as they run their rivers dry.

So everything’s been going to shit for a while now. You’d think they’d get used to it, but they still haven’t. Which is to say that they’re still angry enough to fall in love and expect something to happen. Which is to say that they haven't given up on their dream of finding a ghost in the hidden walk-in closet. Which is to say that, in spite of the toilet paper shortages and the hornet's nest and the weepy sake parties, all the fucking weepy sake parties, there’s hope.

Are you sure you’ll be okay?

(The sound of rain, laughter, a ball hitting the ground.)

Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.

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