Gray 🤠 | NYOOM ARC 🛹🛹🛹

Gray 🤠 | NYOOM ARC 🛹🛹🛹



#sakuatsu giveaway threadfic for @FromAshes13 CW: Yakuza violence, omegaverse. o!atsumu & a!omi - ❤️ - Atsumu notices him for the first time when he relieves Inunaki on patrol duty at 4 AM. +

The man is leaving a 24-hour gym in a loose fitting tank top, exposing most of his back - pale skin slathered in an intricate dragon tattoo that climbs all the way up his neck and slithers down, beyond what Atsumu can see. *

The brazen audacity for an alpha to flaunt a yakuza tattoo in Black Jackal territory is intriguing; Atsumu is sure that his reputation precedes him. Only an extremely strong or extremely stupid alpha would prance around unprotected, knowing that Atsumu is prowling around. +

On instinct, Atsumu takes inventory: tall stature - probably taller than Atsumu - dark, curly hair, dark eyes. The rest of his face is covered by a surgical mask. Toned, surprisingly muscular body. Two very important notes are these: he’s hot as sin and smells of chocolate. +

Atsumu tails the man. From a healthy distance, he follows him back to a large apartment complex a few blocks away from the gym, catty-corner to the MSBY Volleyball Complex, and he watches the man enter apartment number 100. +

Sunrise comes and goes, and the man does not re-emerge. Cursing under his breath, Atsumu turns on his heel to finish his patrol route. — +

“Got somethin’ juicy for ya, Boss man!” Atsumu calls as he slaps open the door to Meian’s office. Meian doesn’t appear particularly impressed, nor is he startled by Atsumu’s sudden disruption. “I swear to the /gods/, if it’s another cat…” +

Atsumu laughs, boisterous and explosive. The corner of Meian’s lips twitches up despite itself, and Atsumu’s mouth settles into a cocksure grin. “Not another cat, /yet/. Nah, I saw a motherfucker with a giant dragon tat on his back comin’ outta that 24-hour gym.” +

“A what?“ “Ya heard me,” Atsumu says, dropping himself lazily into the chair across from Meian’s desk. “Big guy - taller than me, even - strollin’ outta the gym like he ain’t got a care in the world, happy as ya please.” +

Slipping his butterfly knife out of his inner pocket, Atsumu twirls it around his fingers. “He was wearin’ a loose tank top, too. Just showin’ the damn thing off. Trailed him to his apartment, but he didn’t come back out.” He snaps the blade closed. +

“Ya didn’t bring in any guys from outside, did ya?” A muscle in Meian’s jaw jumps. “I did not,” he says, carefully measuring his words. “A /dragon/ on his back?” “A dragon,” Atsumu confirms. +

“Ya know any other groups bringin’ people in from outside? ‘Cause I ain’t ever seen this man before, but he seemed to know where he was goin’ and what he was doin’.” Gnawing on his lower lip, he squints. “Who’s out at ass o’clock just to go to the fuckin’ gym?” +

“No one who’s up to anything good,” Meian mutters. “He didn’t catch you following him, did he?” “Who do ya think you’re talkin’ to?” Atsumu scoffs, rolling his eyes /hard/. “I ain’t the best for nothin’.” Meian’s gaze steels. “Atsumu.” +

Though Meian won’t say it out loud, they both know that Atsumu is right. Like a bolt from the blue, Atsumu rocketed to his position as Meian’s effective right-hand man. It isn’t easy for an omega to even join the yakuza - let alone climb the ranks as quickly as Atsumu did. +

But Atsumu isn’t just /an omega/. He’s strong, quick, and has perfect control over his sweet, limoncello scent. He can lure alphas in, manipulate their hormones like a sculptor and a block of clay, and take them out before they even know what’s happening. +

It’s hard to argue against the merits of someone who is both a bait and a trap. His skill, determination, and cunning are what earned him his own tattoo - twin foxes wrestling along the muscles of his back - as well as a reputation that sparks fear in all the alphas in Osaka. +

Just the thought of it makes his mouth water; it’s not always fun to feel like prey, is it? Atsumu’s tongue swipes over his lips. “No, he didn’t see me.” +

“Good,” Meian says, and his shoulders relax a fraction. “I want you to tail him, at least for a few days. See if you can’t catch him somewhere, or with someone, he shouldn’t be.” Atsumu nods, clicking his tongue. “Should I engage?” +

“I’ll leave that up to your discretion.” Meian jabs a finger at Atsumu’s feral grin. “Don’t do anything stupid.” Which is really a waste of breath. — +

He follows the man for a few days and discovers one thing: holy shit, this man has The Most Boring Routine In The World. He leaves his apartment at 2:45 AM every single morning, walks 15 minutes to the gym, works out from 3:00 AM to 4:00 AM exactly, then walks home. +

He has groceries delivered, and he doesn’t have guests. And he never makes any effort to cover his tattoo, moving around like he has nothing to fear. Atsumu is on his way to the man’s apartment at 2:45 AM when he smells two alphas, lurking in the alleyway beside the gym. +

Immediately, his hackles rise, and he slips his brass knuckles out of his inner jacket pocket. His gun weighs heavily in its holster, but Atsumu doesn’t want to deal with all the paperwork if he doesn’t have to. He masks his scent and slinks down the street, listening. +

“I wonder why the Jackals are bringing in guys from outside.” “Can’t be for anything good.” “Yeah, but things have been so quiet. Why do they want to stir shit up?” “Fuck knows. They’re scary like that.” +

So they’re definitely Yakuza, not Jackals, and they’re definitely not with Atsumu’s sexy stranger. Atsumu pauses at the corner of the gym, releasing a calming, lulling scent. Regardless, they’re in Jackal territory with no good reason. +

Equipped with brass knuckles and the element of surprise, Atsumu turns the corner, fist raised. Before they even know he’s there, he knocks the closest man unconscious with one blow to the head. +

The second man recoils and stumbles away from Atsumu, reaching for his gun. Atsumu is faster, though, and quickly wrestles the man into a headlock. “What do ya want?” Atsumu hisses, giving the man just enough breath to be able to speak, not that he does. +

He just scrabbles at Atsumu’s arms and gasps. “What the /fuck/ do ya want?” “So he’s a Jackal!” the man chokes out. Atsumu takes out a knife, pressing it against the man’s neck. +

“I didn’t say that. I didn’t say shit. What I know is that yer on our territory, and ya ain’t got a reason to be here.“ “We were told to investigate the man with the dragon on his back!” “By who?” The man swallows, and Atsumu’s knife nicks his skin. “We’re Hornets!” +

Atsumu hisses and releases the man who staggers back, coughing and spitting. “Get the fuck outta here, scrub. Take yer man and go. I ain’t gonna be so nice if I catch y’all out here again.” +

If the man were smart, or if he knew who Atsumu were, he would’ve followed orders with copious apology. As it is, Atsumu‘s life is never quite that simple. The second the man gets his wind back, he reaches for his gun. It’s a good thing Atsumu always expects the worst. +

He catches the man’s wrist, using his other arm to punch the man right in his jaw. He drives his knee into the man’s gut and clocks him over the back of the head with the handle of his knife when the man doubles over. +

He drops like a rock next to his partner. After a quick call to Meian, updating him on the situation and arranging transportation for their two new friends, Atsumu leans against the wall of the alleyway. /Fuck/, his hands /stink/ of alpha fear. +

The glow of the 24 hour gym light twinkles from the sidewalk, and Atsumu /really/ wants to wash his hands. It’s a good enough reason for breaking and entering, right? The relief he gets from washing off the shitty alpha scent tells him “yes.” +

He’s drying off when he hears a key-card beep and the swing of a door opening. Shit. It’s 3:00 AM. Atsumu exits the bathroom right as the mysterious curly-haired man enters the gym, slipping off his mask. Fuck, he’s goddamn /gorgeous/. +

They make eye-contact, and the man visibly recoils at the sight of somebody else in the gym. Well, somebody else who’s wearing a rumpled suit at 3 in the fucking morning. +

“Sorry, sorry,” Atsumu says, holding up his hands in a show of innocence. “Didn’t mean to startle ya. I was just finishing up a shift, and I wanted to wash my hands.” He wiggles his fingers, as if their cleanliness will lend merit to his story. +

The man just blinks, swallowing heavily. Atsumu coughs. “Yeah, I uh… I work /downtown/,” he says, looking down at his outfit. “And I come here to work out sometimes.” +

The man’s face flushes a bit as he picks up with Atsumu is putting down. Sex work is one of the few excuses that a well-dressed omega can use in the middle of the night. “Oh that’s… that’s fine,” he says. +

His voice is deep and a little raspy, crumbling like chocolate in the back of Atsumu’s mind. He wants to lick it out of the man’s mouth- No. Bad Atsumu. Do not be attracted to the potential enemy. +

“Like I said, I didn’t mean to scare ya,” Atsumu says. “I figure yer probably here so late ‘cause ya want the gym to yerself. I can understand that, trust me.” He gestures to himself, letting gentle limoncello settle around them. +

The man narrows his eyes as he scans Atsumu from top to bottom, and then back up. “I don’t own the gym,” he says. “You’re allowed to work out here whenever you want.” He pauses, eyes cheating towards the bathroom. “Or use the facilities, I suppose.” +

Atsumu laughs, too loud for the hour and the enclosed space. The man’s continued suspicion is honestly refreshing; even seasoned yakuza who know Atsumu’s reputation tend to find him harmless. +

“True. I ain’t ever seen ya around before,” Atsumu says. “Pretty guy like you, I woulda noticed. Ya new in town?” The man weighs Atsumu with judicious eyes and apparently calculated Atsumu’s soul as worthy. “Yes. I just moved in recently.” +

“Lucky day,” Atsumu purrs. “Can I get a name to go with that tall drink of water?” “Sakusa.” Sakusa, huh? It’s not a name that rings any particular bells in Atsumu’s head, but it sure sounds old money enough to be yakuza connected. “Is that all I get?” +

A sly grin appears on Sakusa’s face. “Considering you haven’t given me anything, it seems fair.” Laughing, Atsumu uses his thumb to point to himself. “Miya Atsumu, nice to meet ya.” +

“Now was that so hard?” The man acts as if he’s considering his options, but his smile indicates that he’s already made up his mind. “Sakusa Kiyoomi.” “Sakusa Kiyoomi,” Atsumu repeats, tasting the name on his tongue. “That’s a fuckin’ mouthful. Mind if I just call ya Omi?” +

Sakusa’s face scrunches up quite adorably, and he shakes his hair out of his face, revealing two moles sitting prettily above his eyebrow. “Yes, actually. I do mind.” +

Breathless, Atsumu laughs. “Well, ain’t that a shame, ‘cause that’s all I’m gonna call ya. Anyways, I was just headin’ out, so you stay safe. I saw some weirdos walkin’ around the streets tonight.” +

“Oh,” Sakusa says. “Uh, thanks.” “Don’t mention it. I’ll catch ya around. Maybe I’ll come ‘use the facilities’ after my shifts more often!” Atsumu says as he pushes the door open to leave. +

“Don’t,” Sakusa calls after him. Atsumu snorts, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sakusa Kiyoomi, huh? — +

Over the following weeks, Atsumu “bumps into” Sakusa at the gym several times (after getting a legal membership), and he learns that Sakusa played volleyball in America for several years and moved back to Osaka to try out for MSBY. +

It’s quite an elaborate cover, so Sakusa probably isn’t supposed to be here for very long. Atsumu also learns that Sakusa wipes down every piece of equipment before he uses it, that Sakusa has hyper flexible wrists, and that Sakusa has a debilitating fear of cockroaches. +

He finds the last one out when he walks into Sakusa seriously considering burning the place down. He also bumps into several representatives of other Yakuza, skulking around in an attempt to intercept Sakusa. He ruins their days, ruling out employers for Sakusa as he goes. +

As the weeks bleed on, Atsumu is running out of options. He’s obviously considered that Sakusa is genuinely just a civilian, but it is so fucking absurd that it seems impossible. Who wants to be mistaken for Yakuza? +

“Hey,” Sakusa says one night, trying badly for casual. “I won’t be coming to this gym after this week.” Atsumu’s eyebrows jump in surprise. “Oh? Why?” “I made the team, so I have access to MSBY’s gym, and I’ll work out there now.” Ah, he’s being relocated. +

“But, I… I’d like to keep spending time with you.” Atsumu nearly falls off of the bench he’s using as a chair in lieu of actual exercise. “What?” Sakusa grunts. “I’m asking you on a date, Miya.” “Oh!” Atsumu blurts. This is obviously a trap, right? “Yeah! I’d like that!” +

Sakusa must have even better control over his scent than Atsumu, because the pure relief mixed with understated excitement seems entirely genuine. It’s probably what makes Atsumu say this: “I was actually gonna run to the konbini on the corner, if ya wanna come with?” +

He wasn’t going to run to the konbini on the corner, for the record. He was going to go back to HQ to tell Meian that Sakusa is likely being relocated. But something about Sakusa’s expression - pinched, nervous - mixed with his sweet chocolate scent makes Atsumu want more. +

And Atsumu /always/ gets what he wants. “What, like as a date?” Sakusa asks. Atsumu snorts, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Nah, not unless yer into that. But it’s already 4, and yer finished with yer workout.” +

“Oh, yeah.” “So I figured we could work out date details while we walk, or somethin’.” Sakusa blinks and nods jerkily. “Oh. That’s,” he says, swallowing. “That’s fine.” The grin that spreads over Atsumu’s face is an honest one. “Great! Let’s hurry up and go!” +

Once Sakusa is cleaned up, the two of them leave the 24-hour gym, walking closely enough to brush their shoulders together on the down step. The contact sends a thrill up Atsumu’s spine that Atsumu hasn’t felt since… ever. +

“So, what kinda food do ya like?” “Um. Clean foods.” “Omi! What does that even mean?” +

Their conversation is light as they approach the konbini, but Sakusa’s scent is heavy. Even Atsumu can’t completely mask his own citrusy airs, despite his cutthroat control. Which is why he doesn’t notice that they are being followed until they’re in the konbini. +

The harsh lights flicker as the door is pushed open behind them, overlaying the sound of guns cocking, and Atsumu does three things in rapid succession: +

First - he makes eye-contact with the clerk and gives her a pointed look to duck under the counter. Second - he shoves Kiyoomi behind one of the aisles. Third - he pulls his arms out of his jacket sleeves, tossing it behind himself as he darts to follow Kiyoomi into cover. +

The distraction works as intended, and the two men fire shots at cloth. Atsumu narrowly reaches temporary shelter unharmed, steadying his breathing. /Shit/. “Ya know these guys?” Atsumu hisses. +

Sakusa drops to the floor, giving Atsumu an incredulous look before burying his face in his knees. “What?” The attackers pause, realizing their target’s a phone, and the sound of footsteps starts up. “Fuck. It don’t matter. Get yer gun out.” “My what? I don’t have a /gun/!” +

Ridiculous, Atsumu thinks, but from Sakusa’s pinched, terrified face, he thinks that he must be telling the truth. He scoffs, a bit too loud, and knocks a jar off the shelf. The glass light above them shatters as the silencer-muffled sounds of gunshots sound off. +

“Are ya seriously not carryin’ yer gun?” Sakusa’s fingers grip the roots of his hair, and he flinches at every noise. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t have a gun!” Now, it’s Atsumu’s turn to be confused. “What kinda Yakuza doesn’t have a gun?” +

“The kind who’s not a Yakuza?” Sakusa says, gesturing to himself. “I told you! I’m a volleyball player!” “Then why do you have a big ole back tattoo?” “It’s not a big deal in America! People just have tattoos!” +

“Oh /shit/!” Atsumu says, retrieving his gun from its holster. He doesn’t have a silencer on it, so he’ll be on borrowed time once he fires the first shot. “What the fuck?” Sakusa squeaks. “Why do /you/ have a gun? What kind of escorts carry guns?” +

“Uh,” Atsumu says, trying to hone in on their attackers’ scents. “The kind who are actually Yakuza?” “What the fuck?” +

Atsumu wants to respond - he does - but he finally nabs the scents he’s looking for. He clocks hesitant cherry blossoms and sea salt in between Sakusa’s terrified chocolate and the clerk’s panicked honey, and his eyes slit on instinct. +

He settles into a fighting stance, ready to strike, when Sakusa’s hand darts out to grab Atsumu’s pant leg. “What are you doing? You can’t fight them!” +

Atsumu opens his mouth to say that he very much can, but then Sakusa releases him with a scoff. “Who am I kidding? You’re apparently Yakuza. You’re literally holding a gun.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “Just don’t let me die, okay?” +

The vulnerability and /trust/ in Sakusa’s dark eyes sends a thrum of affection and instinct into Atsumu’s scent glands. Even though Sakusa is an alpha - and a strong one at that - he’s deferring to Atsumu. He’s relying on Atsumu to keep them safe. +

A purr pulls itself out of Atsumu’s gut as his grip tightens on his gun. “Don’t worry, Omi-Omi. Yer safe with me.” Sakusa’s jaw sets. “I’d better be. I start with my new team next week.” +

Atsumu can’t help but laugh as his scent floods around the two of them. Then, without a single warning, he shoots out from behind the aisle, firing a shot into the air to startle his attackers, giving him enough time to get the advantage. +

The way they’re dressed screams Adlers -white suits- but their sloppy pursuit and attack veers Atsumu’s mind directly to Nohebi. He puts that in his mental back pocket before he launches, driving his fist into one of the men’s throats and his knee into the other man’s crotch. +

The speed with which he’s able to disarm them both and knock them to the floor is confirmation that they’re Nohebi snakes. He growls, eyes fully slitting as his fangs sharpen. +

“Why the /fuck/ are ya followin’ us?” Atsumu punctuates his sentence with his firearm. One of the men swallows roughly. “Not you. Just him.” +

Atsumu growls, releasing a smell of bitter lemons so furious that it makes the men flinch. “Well, ya can tell King Cobra that /he/ is under Jackal protection. An attack on him is an attack on me, and ya /ain’t/ survivin’ another attack on me.” +

The men nod, reeking of fear, and Atsumu uses his gun to gesture for them to leave. “If I ever see any of ya again, yer fuckin’ dead.” He growls, eyes flashing. “Now /scram/.” +

After they scramble to leave the konbini, Atsumu sighs. “Sorry about all that, Omi-omi,” he calls once they’re gone. “Not a very good first date.” He needs to call Meian. +

Sakusa hesitantly emerges out from behind the aisle, flinching as he sees the damage. “Well,” he says carefully, “it’s a good thing I’m not the type of person who thinks a konbini trip is a good first date.” +

His scent is warm, impressed, almost /reverent/. Atsumu laughs, turning to meet his eyes. “Yer still interested?” Sakusa swallows thickly. “Um, after that display? Very much so.” +

He’s purring before he even realizes it. It only takes a few strides until his chest is pressed flushed with Sakusa’s. “Well ain’t that convenient?” Atsumu feels Sakusa’s chest rumbling. “I guess it is.” +

Then Sakusa kisses him, and the citrus-chocolate flavor that bursts in Atsumu’s mouth tastes like heaven. Atsumu’s not sure how long they kiss in the shambles of the konbini, but he’s breathless when they pull apart. +

“My place is only a block or so away,” Sakusa breathes. Atsumu’s smile grows feral. He can call Meian later. /end

Thank you so much again for the prompt!!! It was so much fun to write. Love all of y’all so much ❤️❤️❤️

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