“He witnessed him falling. He watched as Koushi left Heaven, his white wings turning dark while he left the world he had always lived in. Nobody understood what his fault was, but the angel didn't even flinch, as he accepted his fate. He couldn't do the same. He knew Koushi was punished only because Eita loved him more than he loved God himself. And that was a crime. No creature could be loved more than God. He remembers watching him, tears in his eyes while he screamed the name of the angel he loved. And then he remembers standing before God, accusing him of all his crimes the angel had silently witnessed. It was too much. His wings were ripped off, and he fell just as Koushi did”
[Semi Eitax Sugawara Koshi]
For @haikyuurarepairweek2020 Day 6: Storm | Beach | Mythology!Au
Semi eagerly pulls Sugawara, both thrumming with excitement as they run across the polished wooden floor, their footsteps echoing around the hall.
There really isn't need for them to do this, as submitting signed documents to the registry would be enough, but Suga had wanted a ceremony so he can have some pictures to boast in the faces of Semi's growing number of fangirls.
Semi is quite the rockstar and government employee rolled into one when they randomly approached two passerby if they can their witness and have one of his good friend officiate their impromptu wedding.
Thank you @runningfromrealitytoanime! You're probably expecting some legal battle or something like that, but IDK why this is the first thing that came to mind orz.
Suga was standing at the kitchen counter, headphones in, trying to make himself and Semi a meal. The key word was trying, because he was following the recipe but it didn’t seem to be working out the way he wanted it too. He was beginning to stress out and sure, Semi would be happy enough to have take out again (for the fourth night in a row), Suga wanted to do something special for him.
But, it was going horribly. Suga wasn’t a quitter so he would keep trying and hoped it would go well. Semi was out recording and hopefully wouldn’t be back for another hour or so.
Suga hadn’t checked the time recently and of course didn’t hear Semi enter the kitchen as his music was blasting. Suga didn’t even know Semi was there until there were lips against his cheeks and then his own lips as he turned his head in surprise.
“Hello.” Semi grinned as he plucked the headphones from Suga’s ears. Suga blushed.
“You’re not supposed to be home yet!”
Semi checked his phone. “I told you I would be home after five.”
Suga gaped and looked down at the time. Sure enough, it was after five. And he still wasn’t done cooking. The damn meal wasn’t even in the oven yet.
Suga deflated. “I wanted to cook you your favorite meal….”
Semi looked at the mess on the counter and in the platter ready to go in the oven. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”
“It won’t be a surprise now!”
“I don’t like surprises anyway.”
Suga huffed and turned back to his food, ignoring the colorful arms sliding around his waist. They stayed like that as Suga continued to chop vegetables, shivering each time lips skid across the back of his neck and into his hairline.
This is for the Fanfic Writer Exchange! I was paired with @nerdqueenofthepumpkins who listed a couple ships with Suga (and I was too indecisive to pick one, so I rote him with all of them, oops)
Read on AO3 or Below the cut!
“Suga-chan! You’re here!”
He turned at the familiar voice, already smiling as Oikawa sidestepped around the clusters of people between them, waving and grinning. In the bright kitchen lights, he could see all the details Oikawa had put into his costume - though he’d seen a good deal with Oikawa sending him pictures and asking how things looked. That had been a good and bad thing, but now, with Oikawa fully dressed before him, it was definitely worse. He looked beautiful, with his hair slicked back and dressed in a sharp, mint-green suit, a black shirt underneath. Rather than go for the body paint route, he’d put on some stunning makeup, with bold, winged eyeliner with sweeps of glittering green and gold on his eyelids, clouds of a dozen different shades of green on his cheeks, white stars painted within them.
I wish he’d worn the alien bodysuit. At least then he would’ve looked stupid. But no, he had to wear this.
Suga scrubbed his hands against his cargo shorts, smiling shyly as Oikawa stopped before him, white teeth flashing. He smelled good, a soft, almost sugary scent, and Suga had to catch himself before he leaned in, buried his face into Oikawa’s neck to breathe it in. He just focused on that sweet smile, on those deep brown eyes surrounded by glimmering greens and golds. So close, Suga could see the faint dab of sky blue at the inner corner of his eyes.
“You’re late,” Oikawa teased as he tapped Suga’s snapback with a slender finger, “But nice costume, skater boy. Where’d you even get all this stuff?”
Suga brushed Oikawa’s hand away with a huff. “Who says I didn’t own this all before?”
Oikawa raised an eyebrow- how had he sculpted them so perfectly? Bastard. “You? Sugawara Koushi, man of pastel sweaters so soft they shouldn’t be legal? Who, last I saw, couldn’t ride a skateboard without eating asphalt? Who-”
“Oh, shut up!” He smacked Oikawa’s arm, but his friend only grinned as he leaned even closer. He smelled good, dizzyingly so, and Suga’s hand twitched up. He nearly dropped the skateboard, nearly twisted his fingers into Oikawa’s lapels and dragged him in, but he dropped them back, shook his head. “Fine, I got them from Ryuu. The skateboard is Yuu’s old one.”
Having them both dress him, throwing a dozen different combinations at him before they’d finally planted him in front of the mirror in a black tank top with a golden skull, loose black pants with a ridiculously low crotch, and matching black snapback had been a fiasco, but it paid off. Especially with Oikawa’s eyes roaming along him, all too blatantly following the path of his collarbones, down his arms, to where the arm holes gaped open enough that his ribs flashed with every shift of his arms.
It made him feel good - not necessarily comfortable about the clothes, but it was enough to keep those eyes on him, to make him the object of Oikawa’s attention and show more than he usually did. Anything goes for Halloween. Clothes, drinks, and even, with a bold warmth in his chest, inhibitions.
Suga grinned, reached up and slipped a hand through Oikawa’s hair. He could feel the gel under his fingers, could watch the way Oikawa’s eyes fluttered further open, lips parting. Suga swallowed against the nervous twist of his stomach, and he leaned in, pressed a chaste kiss to Oikawa’s cheek. “Thanks for inviting me,” he nearly sang when he leaned back, watching how pink filled Oikawa’s cheeks startlingly quickly.
He recovered almost instantly though, swift and smooth as ever, with an easy but genuine smile to go with it. “Of course I would. I adore you, Kou-chan. And you’d all kill me if I didn’t, let’s be real.”
Suga whipped his snapback off and smacked Oikawa with it, smirking as Oikawa shrieked and ducked - and, hopefully, completely missed the way Suga’s cheeks flushed bright red. You’re going to kill me, talking like that. You all are. But he couldn’t resist it, loved it when those smiles were on him, so varied, even just from Oikawa, all for him. All because of him. It was intoxicating, breathtaking.
He relished in it, and he certainly loved how Oikawa straightened up, those bright brown eyes only on him as Oikawa shook his head in wonder. Even more when Oikawa’s fingers came up and skimmed Suga’s cheek as Oikawa leaned in. With those fingers under his chin, drawing him in, it was impossible to resist that soft smile, warmth in his touch. Suga pecked Oikawa on the lips, closed his eyes as Oikawa thumbed his cheeks.
Warm breath ghosted across his face. Oikawa’s lips pressed on his nose, his cheeks, leaving sparks and warmth in every press. He was giggling and smiling like a fool, squirming as Oikawa peppered his face with kisses that made his chest fluttery. He turned his face, let Oikawa kiss what seemed like every inch of his face before Oikawa pulled back, cheeks still pink, smiling softly.
Suga raised his hand, brushed his fingers across the back of Oikawa’s hand. He smirked. “You’re so gay.”
Oikawa snorted, pinched Suga’s cheek and pulled it out, almost painful. “Well, considering you’re the one with all the boyfriends-”
“Shh.” Suga flapped his hands at Oikawa, “I can’t resist. You’re all so handsome.”
“Damn right we are.” Suga laughed, pulled at the fingers pinching his cheek, tugged down on Oikawa’s hand as he rose up, pressed a quick kiss to Oikawa’s mouth. “I’m gonna walk around, see everyone.”
Oikawa nodded rapidly, throat working, but no words coming out.
Suga had to bite back a giggle as he backed away, wiggling his fingers until the crowd swallowed him up, a darkness broken by flashing lights sweeping him up. It was crowded, but he was grinning in the heated, sweaty air as he wormed his way through. Familiar faces from the campus swam in and out of the lights, some easier to recognize beneath the layers of face paint or makeup or the occasional prosthetic.
Yachi and Shimizu were swaying together near the edge, Yachi’s fairy wings glittering beneath the strobing lights, Shimizu haunting in her long, sheer black dress, witch hat adorned with purple fairy lights. A little further in, he had to skirt around a couple it took a little too long to place, Akaashi in a very revealing police uniform, their hat clutched in Bokuto’s hand as he kissed them hard, probably smearing his zombie face paint on their face.
Others milled around - Hinata in a ghost outfit, Daichi as a low-budget mummy with toilet paper wrapped around him from head to toe, and Kenma as a calico cat, complete with fluffy ears and a tail. At the music booth, Tsukishima stood with one hand on his headphones, or maybe touching the Frankenstein bolts in his forehead, eyes focused on the computer and sound board before him, fingers hovering overtop the flickering colors. Beside him, Yamaguchi stood over the light panel, grinning as he worked the equipment with a finesse Suga could only stop and marvel at for a beat too long, even more impressive with the chunky hero’s gloves he wore, something from that new hero anime.
Suga turned - ran straight into a chest and he stuttered back a step as a warm hand curled around his elbow. Gold eyes swam close, lips pulled back in a brilliant grin as Kuroo pulled back, shaking his head. “You oughtta watch where you’re going, little crow.”
Suga snorted and poked Kuroo in the cheek, pushed him a little further back, urging the heat in his cheeks to die away, for his heart to slow. First Oikawa, now Kuroo - his heart wasn’t built to take so many handsome men in one go. Especially with Kuroo in what looked like a lab coat that had been burned on the cuffs and bottom, hanging open to reveal a mostly unbuttoned shirt and a tattered tank top beneath.
Through the layers rips and tears, Suga could see Kuroo’s stomach and chest, lights playing across the tattoos there. He’d followed them once or twice, tracing the black silhouette of the cat on his hip, the trails of flowers over the scars on his chest, fascinated. He wanted to do it again, wanted to slip his hands beneath Kuroo’s shirt and feel the shifting of his muscles, follow those inked lines once more.
Not now. Definitely not now.
He bit his tongue, dragged his eyes back up to Kuroo. Those golden eyes were still on him, the playful glint in them almost dangerous as Kuroo raised a beaker filled with a violent blue liquid, topped off with a cork. “Want some? It’s sprite and vodka with some blue food coloring.”
Suga’s nose crinkled and he flicked it. “Did you steal that from the lab?”
“Professor Takeda won’t know until tomorrow, and by then it’ll be back in it’s place.”
“Unless you break it or get so hungover you forget.”
Kuroo grimaced, morphed into a sheepish smile. “At least he likes me.”
It’s hard not to. With that twisted smile, those bright eyes, and that wild hair - Kuroo was totally different from Oikawa, but that didn’t mean that he was any less intoxicating to be around. Enough that, when Kuroo draped an arm over Suga’s shoulders and drew him close, he let himself be reeled in, tucked into Kuroo’s side. He smelled good, musky, alcohol already on his breath, but he was upright and grinning as he bumped Suga with his hip.
“Give me a dance?”
“Can you dance with that beaker?”
“Can you dance with that skateboard?”
“... Fair point.”
Kuroo rolled his eyes, but, with his arm around Suga, he guided them both through the crowd, over to Kenma, who leaned against a window, Hinata bouncing by his side. “Kenma!”
The blond glanced over, one eyebrow already raised. He held out his hand, and Kuroo plopped the beaker into his open palm and, when Suga offered it, passed the skateboard off as well. “Thanks, Kenma!”
“I hate you, Kuro.”
Kuroo blew Kenma a kiss before he spun around, barely giving Suga time to wave at his friends before the crowd swallowed them once more. Bodies undulated to the beat, to the flashing lights above, the scent of sweat and alcohol in the air. Black lights flickering from above made things glow, lips and eyes and designs standing out in stark contrast to their skin. And Kuroo, beneath the black lights, beneath the flashes of green and purple and blue and a dozen other colors, looked positively wild, teeth and eyes Cheshire-like. His hands found Suga between the heavy beats that rocked his body, pulled him close and closer still until they were almost chest to chest in the crowd.
The song shifted, dropping the heavy bass for something brighter, quicker, and Kuroo grinned as he started to move. Kuroo was anything but a graceful dancer, but he’d never tried to pelvic thrust his way through Suga, and this time was no different. Instead, he spun around, pretending to hold a microphone and horrifically lip-syncing to the lyrics as he swayed his hips. He waggled his eyebrows, encouraging, and Suga snorted, shook his head as he started to move too.
Kuroo grinned, goofy and beautiful, and Suga had to close his eyes, let the lights flash and break the darkness, his heart thumping to the quick beat. He swayed, rolling his hips and body, hands working along his sides, his chest, putting on a show for those eyes he could feel on him, delightfully heavy.
Sure enough, when he let his eyes open, Kuroo was watching him, smiling dopily, his movements down to mere swaying as he watched. Keeping his distance until Suga beckoned him over.
The control tasted sweet on his tongue and he relished in it, savored the sweet taste and the way it made his chest bubble a little too much as he dropped his head back, exposing his neck. One hand rose, pulled his snapback away to rake through his hair, and the other slid along his thigh, clutching the excess fabric as he dropped to the beat, ass brushing the ground for a moment. Kuroo’s grin turned feral and he watched, eyes sharp, as Suga rocked his way up, hips moving, head bobbing from side to side.
Their eyes met.
He curled his fingers.
That was all the encouragement Kuroo needed to step in, standing over Suga so far that he had to crane his head back, smiling. His hands were hot on Suga, one pushing his tank top up to thumb at the skin on his hip, the other on his shoulder, squeezing gently. It was hard to focus, the subtle smell of cologne in his nose, the twitching and tightening of those fingers, the way Kuroo’s lips moved, smile widening. “Can the pretty little skater boy give the mad scientist a kiss?”
Suga bumped their foreheads together, and Kuroo whined, a tiny, pathetic sound nearly lost in the heavy bass all around them. Definitely lost when Suga grabbed hold of Kuroo’s lapel with one hand as the other slipped up, curled into that wild, coarse hair, and pulled him in. A surprised inhale washed across his face, warm, smelling of lime, and Suga grinned into it as he tipped his head to the side, keeping the kiss soft, though he lingered on and on, until his lungs were burning and he was grinning so hard his cheeks ached. He pulled back, fingers loosening in Kuroo’s hair.
His boyfriend looked dazed, smiling brightly as he leaned in for another, and another still. After the fourth, Suga pressed his fingertips to Kuroo’s chest, giggling as he pulled back and shook his head. “So clingy, Kuroo.”
“It’s ‘cause you’re beautiful, Koushi,” Kuroo huffed, hugged Suga closer. His nose rubbed along Suga’s neck, weight heavy on him, a pleasant reminder that lasted for a moment before Kuroo pulled back, patted Suga’s arm with the sweetest of smiles. “Go find the others. Semi’s looking beautiful tonight.”
Suga flushed, ducked to hide his head as Kuroo’s wild laughter rose over the steadily thumping music. “Asshole,” Suga grumbled, but warmth was rampant in his chest, and he still rose up onto his tiptoes and pecked Kuroo on the chin before he stepped back, those arms slipping away from him to let the crowd of dancers fill the space between them.
He made it all of two steps before he nearly steamrolled someone in a bodysuit that glowed beneath the black lights, glowing white lines on their cheeks. “Shirabu?”
The person turned fully, snorting when they realized who it was. “You’re too clumsy off the court,” Shirabu said flatly, a smirk chasing the words a second later.
“And you’re an asshole no matter what,” Suga shot back.
Shirabu’s eyes glittered, flicking between black and amber as the lights flashed overhead, colors playing across his face. And the hand that appeared on his shoulder a moment later. Ushijima stood over him, face painted like Frankenstein’s monster, but otherwise in normal clothing. “Did Shirabu talk you into the face paint?”
“Satori told me I had to wear some sort of costume to the party. This was his idea.” Suga followed the finger Ushijima pointed past him to Tendou, who thrashed on the dancefloor, bony arms flying everywhere, his Frankenstein’s Bride wig still on through what seemed to be sheer force of will. Suga chuckled and shook his head.
“He’s a mess, but he’s our mess,” Shirabu sighed.
“Oh, so you’re admitting it now?”
Shirabu leveled a glare at Suga before he huffed, turned into Ushijima with a roll of his eyes. Those long arms and heavy hands settled around him, almost big enough to swallow the sharp shoulder blades that poked out in his bodysuit. Shirabu glanced back. “Eita’s on the porch. They said they ‘got too hot’.” Suga straightened up, uncaring of the satisfied grin that curled Shirabu’s lips. “Very Pavlov of you. Go on.”
Suga flipped Shirabu off, got a middle finger tipped in a glowing nail in return, and melted back into the crowd. Figuring out which part of outside was difficult. The front porch only had some of the girls from the volleyball team who all chirped hellos at him and a handful of people from the soccer team clustered by the jack-o-lanterns that lined the steps. The back yard, occupied by two blow-up kiddie pools, fairy lights in fake cobwebs filled with spiders strung between tiki torches, and far too many people, was a bust too.
But, on the third door that led to a small corner porch tucked into the side of the house, was success. In the orange lights from the paper lanterns shaped like pumpkins, he could see Semi was seated on a swing beside Kageyama, their hands linked between them, Semi holding a bottle of water to their neck. Suga shut the door carefully, and two pairs of eyes snapped over. Two smiles, one thinner and weaker than the other.
“Hey there,” Semi said softly.
Kageyama raised his hand, wiggled his fingers - thankfully not splattered with fake blood, unlike the rest of his outfit, a doctor’s scrubs where something had clearly gone wrong.
Suga crouched down in front of them, set his hand on their interlocked ones. Semi’s fingers twitched against his. Clammy and cool. Almost ironic with deep blue coat they wore, a black sash around their waist, black pants, and white-tipped gray fur around their neck. A white crown was nestled in their hair, and, all over, they’d sewn silver and blue snowflakes of different sizes into their costume.
“Too hot, huh?”
Semi grimaced. “Too many people.”
Suga nodded, squeezed their hands. They looked a little pale, even beneath the foundation and blue tinged makeup on their face. Kageyama looked well at least, though there was a deep crease in his brow, and it looked like he’d picked at the hole in his sleeve until it gaped open, bitten at his fingers until the skin was red and frayed.
Suga bit his lip, glanced at the door, then Semi. “You have your medication?”
“Already took it.” Semi dragged their hand through their hair with a grimace. “Sorry. I know this is a pain.”
Suga flicked them on the knee. “You’re never a pain, dork.”
Semi stuck their tongue out. Kageyama caught it between his fingers, pinched it. Semi grunted, pulled their hand away so they could slap at him until he released their tongue. “You’re right,” they said, eyes narrowed at Kageyama, “Tobio is the pain, always grabbing my tongue like an asshole.”
“Would you rather have a kiss?” Suga teased.
Semi’s white-coated eyebrows rose. A smile appeared, slow and shy. They dug their heels into the concrete beneath them, pulled themself closer to Suga. He met Semi halfway, beaming as he pecked them on the nose, curled his fingers into their silky hair. They laughed, a soft puff of breath against his face, and then he closed the rest of the distance, fully kissed them beneath the ghosts fluttering from the bar above them. Semi’s mouth twitched, a hand curling into Suga’s shirt as Semi leaned closer, pulled him in.
And Suga just grinned, pressed a second kiss to their lips, then a third before they pulled apart. Semi’s smile was sweet, shy, and Suga curled his fingers in their hair. “You’re doing great, Eita.”
Their lips crinkled, but they didn’t protest. Just stayed silent and let their eyes flutter as they pushed their head into Suga’s hand, relishing the way he worked his fingers through their hair. With them quiet, slowly relaxing, Suga turned to Kageyama. Those gray-blue eyes were focused on Semi, but they shifted over, settled on him.
“Were you with them the whole time?”
“They texted me. I couldn’t find them at first.”
“In his defense,” Semi said softly, “I wasn’t entirely clear about where I was. I wasn’t seeing clearly.”
“It was… interesting. I couldn’t quite tell what some of the words were supposed to be saying.”
Suga snorted, rocked forward onto his knee. He curled his fingers beneath Kageyama’s cheek, lulled him forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Tobio,” he said softly.
Kageyama merely stared at him, mouth not quite working as it formed around words. In the near-dark, it was difficult to see, but Suga was certain that his cheeks had flushed darker. As the newest to his little arrangement, and the youngest, Kageyama hadn’t quite grown accustomed to the shows of affection, let alone in public areas. And that makes him so much cuter.
Suga hummed to himself, just for a second, before he turned back to Semi, tugged on their hair to make their eyes flicker open. “Can I text the others? They can bring you something to drink and eat if you want, or just talk.”
Semi nodded, and Suga fired off a text, one that Kuroo and Oikawa responded to almost instantly. They both appeared together, Kuroo cradling several water bottles, Oikawa with his arms filled with Halloween snacks that he dumped on the ground beside Suga, bat-shaped brownies and cookies iced like pumpkins and candy spilling on the concrete, cellophane wrappers crinkling.
Suga snorted, but he pulled a brownie from the pile, passed it up to Semi, who unwrapped it and bit off a wing as they inspected the other two. “If I didn’t know better,” they teased, “I’d say you were trying to impress someone.”
Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows, glitter catching what little light surrounded them. “What can I say, Eita-chan? I have to make Kou-chan fall in love with me!”
“I’m pretty sure he’s already there,” Kuroo shot back, “Just with three others too.”
He was smug, no doubt about it, but Oikawa and the others didn’t take offense. They just gave their own little smiles, Kuroo’s wide enough for his dimples to make an appearance, Oikawa’s showing off a canine with a small gem embedded, Semi’s eyes crinkling, Kageyama’s lips just barely twitching. All so different, and so very beautiful, especially beneath the soft orange glow of the pumpkins overhead, the faint sound and thump of music drifting through the cool night air.
Suga sank back, reached out. Kageyama took one hand, almost reverent as he pulled it close, settled it onto his lap, his fingers automatically finding the flesh of Suga’s palm and gently kneading in.
Oikawa took the other, and he laced their fingers together, his hand so warm against Suga’s, so familiar in how his fingers settled between the fine bones beneath his skin.
“You’re not wrong,” Suga said softly underneath the pumpkin glow, “Not wrong at all.”
