#yamaguchi

context: recently learnt that tsuki ga kirei also translates to a more poetic way of saying i love you in japanese

yamaguchi: u-um, tsukki i have something to tell you

tsukishima: huh, what?

yamaguchi: tsukki ga kirei, please go out with me ⊙﹏⊙

an obviously flustered tsukishima: you really just made that pun, really 乁| ･ 〰 ･ |ㄏ

yamaguchi: IM SERIOUS

tsukishima: yeah yeah me too ilyt or whatever

yamaguchi: ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

>>————–Mafia A.U.—————— Haikyuu!!

>>————{[play]=«Everybody gets high»-(Missio)

>>————WARNINGS: Mentions of blood, gore, swearing, mental health issues, Tsukki is a sadist, let me know if I forgot anything

>>—————— CHAPTER—> {1}, CHAPTER—> {2}    

CHAPTER—> {1}

                                           ° ° ° >>>>{~*~}<<<< ° ° °

There was blood in the sink.

A deep, rich, oh-so-lovely red, tainting the once clear water with memories of sins so unspeakable; but obviously ones that had to be done, there was the blood in the sink to prove it.

Not only was the blood in the sink, it was all over Tsukishima’s once-white gloves, all over his perfectly pressed jacket, even some on his perfectly shined black and white wingtip shoes.

He grimaced at the coppery smell of blood filling his nose.

Perhaps he had gotten too carried away.

In spite of the mess of red in front of him, he still smiled, glad to be rid of such a nuisance of a man.

While Tsukishima threatened death quite often, he didn’t like to act on those threats very often, but on the occasion when he did, oh, it was such fun. Really, it depended on what they had done to him or to the rest of the group he was leading. Naturally, any harm to come to them from an outsider, they were to be killed immediately, but in the most slow, delicious, and painful way. The man he had just killed was a blackmailer. He chuckled at the thought.

Sure, Tsukishima had commited more crimes than he could count on both his hands, but that also meant power, not vunerability to blackmailers as such. He had started at the bottom like everyone else had, but after staying complacent for a while, he could wait no longer. So he worked. He worked harder than the others, he earned this title, he earned this power. He earned all of this.

Tsukishima snapped back to the present, remembering the blood still staining the marble sink, with its glistening chrome tap, diamonds studding the handles. He frowned. Yes, he was sure he had gotten too carried away in the demise of the blackmailer. He clearly remembered the mans screams, his cried, his sobs, his pitiful pleas and begging for mercy, and couldn’t stop the smile from stretching wider across his usually smooth as stone expressionless face.

Oh, how he loved when they screamed. It was like they were begging him to end it all, either by killing them or simply stopping. And we all know theres no way he would stop simply because they wanted him to. If anything, he would rather have a fresh corpse laying before his feet, bloody, still warm, and much easier to make a mess out of.

Well, to make a bigger mess, having them alive would be better. They would move, squirm, writhe in pain.

“You give me protection from Nekoma and their ally Fukurodani and I’ll keep quiet about her.” Said the blackmailer, pointing to Shimizu. Tsukishima had looked over head lolling lazily to the side to glimpse at the beautiful woman, seeming almost bored. He smiled drily, for she had only coaxed a member, Yamamoto, to give her information about a mission all the five Mafia groups had to persue and Nekoma was the only group who knew what they all had known. The things they had learned and had refused to share with the other Mafia groups. It was their own fault.

What concerned him was how the blackmailer knew about that.

He turned his head back to look at the blackmailer and frowned. He was silent for a long moment, before he opened his mouth.

“You absolute idiot. You’re an idiot, did you know?” His lips curled slightly when he saw the man flush with embarrassment. “The Mafia does not have ‘allies’,” he air quoted for effect “we all work together, as one, all in tandem with each other. We may not always get along, but we don’t war with each other.”

He leaned forward in his leather seat, elbows resting on his knees, long fingers folding together. He stared at the man.

“I am curious about something.” He twirled his fingers, and soon he was handed a glass fun of red wine, not unlike the color of blood. He took a careful sip, then cradled the bowl of the cup in his palm, the handle between his fingers. “Would you care to enlighten me on it?”

The man looked to swallow thickly, eyebrows drawing together in uncertainty. Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. When the man didn’t move to answer he sighed and took out his gun, which was resting on the inside pocket of his blazer, and set it on his lap, and took another sip of wine. The man’s eyes widened in fear at the sight of the heavy weapon.

“Well?” Tsukishima prompted. The man opened his mourh, as if to speak. Tsukishima smirked, delighted at his triumph.

The man glared and shut his mouth, shaking his head in a resolute nod. Tsukishima sighed.

“Nishinoya and Tanaka, come here.” He curled his fingers, beckoning the two forward,

“Yes, sir?” Said Nishinoya lazily, Tanaka smiling in a rather concerning way at the man.

“You know what to do.” He waved them away, looking over to where Suga, Daichi, and Asahi were standing; Suga staring intently at the situation, fiddling with his white gloves, Daichi staring, one hand on his leg, gun in hand while the other was under his chin. Asahi was simply watching, hands clenched into fists.

Then he turned to Hinata and Kageyama. Hinata’s eyes were sparkling, barely able to withhold his excitement. Kageyama wasn’t even paying attention, but rather staring at the glass of wine in his hands, clearly undrunken.

Next his attention was focused on Kiyoko, Ennoishita and Yamaguchi, all standing politely off to the side, simply watching with no signs to show what they were thinking.

The man took a step back, panic evident on his face. Yet Tsukishima sensed hesitation within both Tanaka and Nishinoya. He frowned, then cleared his throat.

“In case you need motivation, he called Kiyoko a slut and tried to hit her.” He noted the way both of them immediately stiffened, and their hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white.

“He fucking what?” Asked Nishinoya. Tsukishima smiled. Yes, yes, this was the kind of rage he wanted to see.

From the corner, he heard Daichi laugh.

In Tanaka’s hands, there was a baseball bat and a manic smile spread across his face. He handed the bat to Noya, then pulled out his own gun, a large revolver. They both looked over their shoulders at Tsukishima, a silent request for permission.

He paused for a few moments before finally replying with,

“Just as long as he stays concious and doesn’t die.” Then he flicked his wrist, and stared as he saw the two slowly circle the man, who didn’t dare to breathe. Nishinoya tapped the back of the man’s skull with the bat.

“Pretty dumb decision of you to make, calling Kiyoko what you did.” He stopped behind the man.

“Yeah” Tanaka agreed, stopping directly in from of the man. He swung the butt of the gun in a wide arc, smiling when it made contact with the man’s face, his head snapping to the side. Not a sound left the mans lips.

Then Nishinoya swung the bat, crashing it into the base of the man’s skull, then before he could recover, held it above his head and swung it down, sending the man sprawling.

Tsukishima smiled as the man was bloodied. He smiled as the man screamed. He smiled as he lay trembling when he waved Nishinoya and Tanaka away. He stood.

“Now, if you refuse to talk, its my turn now.” he raised an eyebrow. No response. “Alright then. You had your chance.”

He stepped forward.

When he stepped away, his fingers were stained with blood.

Taglist: @abii-babyy@jessbeinme15@crazyweeb123 @itssaturdaybiatch@aitarose @cxssiopeiia@dokifluffs​ 

tsukki: you ever think about how your skeleton is always wet?

yamaguchi: no but thanks for that thought, i’m disgusted now

tsukki: it won’t be wet one day

yamaguchi: that’s arguably worse