#I feel like they were trying to make him look more 'Homra' somehow and I don't think that works

[ridiasfangirlings]

Yata somehow finds himself back in time as his younger self and it's the day when Fushimi was to make his betrayal and leave Homra. Yata, being from the future post-RoK, now know what made Fushimi leave and what ruined their friendship. Would he change the past?

I feel like Yata would definitely try but I don’t know if it would do him any good, I feel like at that point Fushimi is just not in a headspace to take ‘I still want to be your friend’ from Yata no matter how sincerely Yata tries. Like imagine Yata gets hit by a Strain and finds himself sent back in time. He doesn’t even realize it at first until he gets a text from Totsuka saying that they haven’t seen Fushimi at all today. Yata gets choked up for a moment and then checks the date, realizing with a start that it’s showing years ago. He feels like there’s something about this date that he should know and then he looks at his messages again, where he’s been asking everyone if they’ve seen Saruhiko because a lot of his stuff is missing at the apartment. Yata’s stomach just drops as he realizes exactly what day this is and what’s about to happen. 

Yata knows he really shouldn’t try to change the past, he’s watched movies before after all, but the temptation is so strong — what if he could change just this one small thing, even if he can’t get Fushimi to stay in Homra (and now he knows why that isn’t an option) maybe he could still be Fushimi’s friend and they wouldn’t have missed so many years together. He decides he has to try, he at least has to make an attempt, and he heads to the alley where he knows Fushimi’s waiting. Yata’s demeanor is serious as he asks Fushimi where he’s been and why his stuff is gone, swallowing down all the memories of bitterness and pain, fists still clenching when he sees that twisted smile on Fushimi’s face.

Fushimi starts talking about how he’s going to S4 and how stupid and useless Homra is and rather than getting mad Yata just asks him ‘Saruhiko. Is that how you really feel?’. Fushimi is taken aback by this Misaki who won’t rise to the bait and Yata tries to word it calmly and clearly, that he understands Fushimi feels like he doesn’t belong in Homra and maybe S4 is better for him but they don’t have to break things this way, Fushimi doesn’t have to break them this way. Fushimi’s expression waivers for just a moment and Yata starts to feel hopeful but then Fushimi just laughs in Yata’s face all you don’t know anything at all Misaki, how stupid. Yata starts to respond that he does know but then he closes his mouth, even Yata is smart enough to realize that if he knows things that the Yata of this time wouldn’t know it will immediately put Fushimi on guard. 

Instead he tries to argue that it’s okay, Yata still wants to be his friend, and Fushimi laughs again as he’s like we were never friends. Yata is like you don’t mean that, come on let’s just talk about this rationally and this is where I think Fushimi throws that in his face, that Yata is an idiot who never wants to talk about things and how he needs to start seeing Fushimi as his enemy, and then Fushimi places his burning hand right on his own tattoo. Poor Yata is still horrified by it because I imagine this is still a traumatizing moment for him even in the future, remembering how Fushimi hurt himself, and the desperate smile on Fushimi’s face in response just makes it worse. Fushimi says that even if Yata wants to be friends Fushimi doesn’t, and Fushimi has all the time in the world to teach Yata why Yata should hate him. Yata’s abruptly pulled back to the future after this and maybe that world was even more like a ‘suggestion’ or something, so the past didn’t change anyway, but it’s still a shock to Yata. In a way it helps him too though — realizing that maybe there really was nothing he could have done in that exact moment, that Fushimi was going to do things his way regardless, and that Yata can’t blame only himself for all those years they missed.

[profnodanna]

I am sharing here a mikorei scenario I wrote on twitter last night. Hope you like it! I will just copy-paste the thread without making any correction, apologies if the text will look “odd” for a tumblr post. 

AU in which Mikoto survives S1 and he is still the Red King during ROK. He partecipates to the Mihashira defense plan, and he is in the Slate chamber when Munakata gets shot by Iwafune (Also imagine Iwafune didn't want to arrive to the point to almost killing another King, 

it was more like an "accident", and he interprets it as another way of the Slate to play them all, because no matter what, Kings will be always be killed by other Kings or by their own powers). Mikoto sees that scene and is the one who has to give some first-aid to prevent >

Munakata from, you know, dying. There isn't much he can do anyway, besides pressing his hands on Munakata's wound in the attempt to stop the blood loss. And the blood is warm on his hands and doesn't stop, and a cold shiver run through his body when he feels a Sword >

cracking down, and he doesn't need to look up to know it's not his. Fortunately, the Sword doesn't fall, and it doesn't take much for Munakata to get some actual emergency medical care and to be brought to the hospital. it's a devasting night for everyone, >

especially S4, waiting to know the conditions of their King. It's almost dawn when they get to know Munakata is out of danger (and this is the moment in which Fushimi makes the "betrayal scene", right in the middle of the hospital hall). >

Homra goes back to the bar, and Kusanagi suggests to take a rest, that it was a long night. Mikoto is more than happy to follow that advice, he just wants to close his eyes and forget about everything, especially about that red power that keeps twirling inside him. >

But as he closes his eyes fragments of that night comes back to his mind: the shot, the blood, the endless wait, his powerlessness before an event he couldn't stop, and then that maniacal laugh, and the thud of a body falling on the ground.

There are Swords that go into pieces and Swords that fall. Old and recent memories mix with events never happened, with dreams and nightmares and worries.

>

It's a loop of bad dreams-waking up- feeling shitty-trying to get some rest; until he abruptly wakes up in the middle of the night. It's 2am. He is tired but wide awake at the same time. He gives up, and decided to take a walk. >

"I can't sleep" he says, while he walks into Munakata's hospital room through the window. Munakata, who wasn't sleeping either, notes that it is not visiting hours, Suoh. Mikoto shrugs and flops onto the chair next Munakata's bed, grabbing the other's tablet from his hands. >

"It's not work hours either" he replies, throwing the device away. Munakata sighs, maybe with a hint of fondness, or maybe he is just tired, murmuring "what should I do with you?" Mikoto replies that he doesn't want to hear that from someone who's in a hospital bed. >

They could keep going on, but there are tiredness and distress in both of them, and no one can hide it much. An awkward, but somehow soothing, silence falls onto them. >

It's Mikoto the first who breaks the silence. Out of the blue, in the middle of the darkness of that room, he murmurs that when he got that call from Kusanagi, his world shattered into thousands of pieces. Totsuka was gone. And that was the end. >

And sometimes, during particular bad nights made of nightmares, he wakes up and thinks if he really has the right to be there, when Totsuka is not here anymore and his world isn't the same anymore. >

Munakata doesn't know how to reply, or, to be correct, he has plenty of replies, but nothing that he feels to say. Eventually, he snorts, saying since when Mikoto worries about rights and such, wasn't he the one who wanted to choose for himself?

There is a pause, and then Mikoto asks what Munakata will do about his "world". Munakata says he doesn't have any intention to make it fall, that he will keep running until his last breath. Mikoto sighs, leaning back into the chair, murmuring that's unlike you. >

Munakata smiles bitterly, noting how only a year earlier, their roles were reversed. Nevertheless he doesn't regret anything of what he did. >

That doesn't reassure Mikoto in any way. If anything, it makes him feel even more exhausted, of the Slate, of other Kings, of everything. Again, silence between them. There isn't much to talk about they don't know already. As Kings, they understand each other's reasons. >

Mikoto has almost fallen asleep on the chair when Munakata speaks again, asking him why he came there. Mikoto doesn't even open his eyes; he makes just a "mmh" and after a pause long enough to make Munakata thing he has fallen asleep, he says >

he just came to see a friend (when he truly means he just had to see with his eyes that he was still alive). Munakata snorts, noting how Mikoto actually listens to his words, and Mikoto is all "ofc, otherwise I couldn't throw them back in your face"

Eventually Mikoto falls asleep (to then regret it the next morning), leaving Munakata with this bittersweet feeling, and with no other choice but to try to rest, since Mikoto made his tablet disappear. At least, he thinks, the night doesn't seem so lonely anymore.

[tomorrowfortoday]

So You Had a Bad Day

I may have been a little inspired to write a Mikane OneShot. This will only be available to read here on tumblr, so enjoy :3 *Warning: Foul language, violence, and sexual/abusive themes ahead* *But also good, happy stuff*

Just another beautiful day in the life. That’s what they all say right? People. The same people that just won’t leave her alone day after day. Today included. Oh especially today. Between having to put up with cat calls during her work hours, which she thought would give her at least a decent amount of professional respect, and being shoved shoulder to shoulder in the busy Shizume subway, Akane Himura had had enough. Even without all the antagonists she was having a bad day. Headaches, natural bad temperament which had gotten her into trouble several times that day already, and hallucinations that put louder than normal whispers in her ears and made her feel like she was under a blaring spotlight. Some days as a schizophrenic were better than others. This wasn’t one of them. Although, she would start to be a little more alarmed about it if the severity had made her call in sick. She wasn’t quite in that condition yet luckily. Every bump, every little shove of the people around her set her on edge and made her bite down on her cheek or tongue to keep from screaming at them. Or worse. It was like she could feel the heat coming off of them all. The filth, the sweat of the hot day, the stench of the auras of strangers. She hated it. It all made her want to jump into a pool of ice, just to rid her mind of any thought of them. Their suffocating heat. It was almost dark out but still it seemed as though the sparse clouds were trapping the sun’s rays in the earth’s atmosphere. The stars gave her none of the freedom she often sought from them as she left the underground station to finally breath semi-fresh city air. Her anger worsened slightly when the heavy feeling in her chest refused to dissipate. The walk home wasn’t long. The bar Homra was in an ideal spot for business, in a location easily accessible by basically all means of transport in the big, bright city. In her current state of desperation to be on familiar, happier grounds, Akane made the mistake of deciding to take a shortcut. She could handle herself, as she had proven time and time again. The thought that she shouldn’t be putting herself in dangerous situations in the first place didn’t even cross her mind. Well. Maybe it did. But nothing stopped her from ignoring and forgetting it altogether. She simply pulled the hood of her sweater up and tugged her backpack, which had her work uniform and wallet in it, closer, and tried to look as dark and invisible, or hopefully at least as scary, as possible. It didn’t work. “Hey there, whatcha got in the bag?” The man’s sticky, ill-smelling breath wafted over her and she tried to walk past without a word. “Oi, I’m talkin’ to ya!” “Yeah, and I’m ignoring you, fuck off bucko.” She flipped him off as she quickened her pace in the shadows, only to be yanked back by the wrist as the guy suddenly grabbed her. “Well well well, you’ve got a nice voice under all that. What else are ya hiding from me, sweetheart?” His eyes slowly creeped over her form and she cursed at herself for wearing shorts that day. Thoughts of what he was planning to do to her made the bile rise in her throat. Her heart rate increased and she fought off the flashbacks. Panicking wouldn’t do her any good. Panicking would only get her hurt again. The pressure on her arm built up and she yelped slightly as he tried to pull her closer, already reaching his other hand out to grope at her. And then she snapped. She used his own strength against him and used the momentum, along with her own force, to slam him against the wall behind them. A knife, which she had hidden in her pocket, was pressed against his throat and the fear that he had intended to be on her face now adorned his own. “You are fucking around with the wrong bitch on the wrong day, asshole.”  No-one would notice. He looks like a nobody. A sexist, disgusting nobody. Kill him. You know you want to. You know you miss the smell of blood. Kill him kill him killhim killkillkill. She shoved the voices away, desperately trying not to give in to their urges. Akane got right up in his face and whispered menacingly, bright grey eyes piercing into his very soul, “Don’t. Touch. Me.” She fire in her words must’ve burned him to the core because as she practically tossed him away he ran like a madman to god knows where to do god knows what. The red subsided from her vision and she looked down at her hands. Giving a tired sigh, she retracted the knife and put it back into her pocket, continuing on her way like nothing had happened. It was the best defense mechanism she had. If she pretended that nothing had happened, then it was like nothing had happened. At least... not until she was in a safe enough space to deal with it. Only for a split second did she stop to look up and wonder, would they care if something bad happened to me? Thoughts like these often crossed her mind lately. She finally had something like a home. She felt a connection with all the wonderful, albeit at times annoying, people that had welcomed her into their lives. Yata had accepted her again, or at least she hoped. Tatara fussed over her like a mother hen, or at least she thought. And Kusanagi always kept a distant but watchful eye over her to make sure she felt safe. And happy. Or so she dreamed. With her condition it was nearly impossible to get a definite read on people, so she often had to question herself, she couldn’t help but occasionally doubt them. And it wasn’t something she could be blamed for. She continued on in silence for the rest of the short journey. “Akane! Thought I’d catch you around here.” She saw Yata approaching from a little ways down the aisle of buildings and quietly cursed when she looked down at her arm. A purple bruise was already forming from where she had been grabbed, and it traveled down her hand far enough that her sleeve wouldn’t be able to hide it. She did her best anyway and put on a happy mask. “Sorry you had to take the late shift today, how was it?” The events of the day echoed through her mind at light-speed but her face remained unchanged. Horrible. Terrible. Worth forgetting and incinerating from my frikken head entirely. “Eh, you know. The usual. It was fine.” She shrugged and continued to lightly smile at him. She felt bad for it, for how frequently she used this tactic on him. But he almost always bought it so she continued to use it. “I figured. Look, me and the guys were thinking that-” he put his hand on her shoulder as she walked past, something he had done many many times before, only this time she jumped and even swatted it away. They both looked at each other in confusion. It had been entirely reflexive, Akane hadn’t even expected that from herself. “S-sorry. I... didn’t mean to do that.” “You ok?” She had made the mistake of letting the mask slip for only a fraction of a second when he touched her. Even her best friend had put her on edge and the contact made her cringe without warning. “Um, yeah. Long day. I’m just-I’ll just go home.” “Want me to walk you? You’ve been kinda on edge since this morning. It’s a bad day isn’t it?” He knew that the condition would affect her in waves. He was used to it and knew that, although it was often difficult or awkward, he had to force her to communicate so that he wouldn’t make it worse. She shook her head, “I just wanna be alone for a little while.” He frowned, obviously not liking the idea but also knowing he didn’t have much of a say in the matter. “Ok.” She smiled at him appreciatively. “Just text me when you get there.” “Yeah. Sure thing mom.” But the words didn’t have quite the same humorous ring to them. The same life. He frowned in worry but watched as his friend walked off towards their base, alone against his own better judgement. Finally, she was standing at the front door, and thanking the stars that Yata hadn’t noticed her arm in the darkness. Time for round two. It was colder than she had expected inside, and the burst of conditioned air even made her shiver at first contact. But that didn’t slow her from her newfound mission. Upon entering the building, Akane headed straight for the kitchen. She didn’t see anyone awake, which was probably the most shocking thing that whole night. The bar was closed, but it wasn’t even that late yet. Someone was definitely still up at this hour. The girl decided not to worry about it yet, and simply tugged at her sleeve just in case, finally making it to the back room with all the food. Somehow it was even colder, and she found herself wishing she had been wearing a thicker sweater. This one had mostly been for aesthetic purposes rather than functionality. Please be in here please please- aha! Tatara, you’re a lifesaver. She searched through the fridge, racing the effects of what had just transpired, to find what she had asked for. A giant jar of pickles. Some girls had chocolate or ice cream, but for some reason, whenever she had a mental breakdown or the insatiable urge to cry, pickles were the only thing that could quench her sorrows. She blamed it on probably being dropped one too many times as a kid. “Oh fucking hell, why can’t I just have one goddamn thing?!” Tears of frustration began to build up in her eyes as she struggled to open the jar. She grumbled and swore as she battled with the metal lid. She tried everything. Running it under warm water, using a dish towel, she even bent a poor, unsuspecting spoon trying to pry it open. Finally, she went back to trying to use plain old brute force. And proceeded to hurt her wrist. In a burst of fury that had built up over the last couple of hours, she raised the glass above her head, ready to just smash it on the ground and risk eating broken glass shards with her snack. But as she went to swing her arms down, the weight of the jar disappeared. She looked at her hands in confusion and jumped as someone cleared their throat behind her. Akane spun around like lightning and came face to face with none other than Mikoto Suoh. Holding a jar of pickles, which he easily opened with a satisfying pop of the lid. She refused to meet his eyes, past the emotional point of being able to fake anything. He placed the lid back on and screwed it back only partially so she could get it off again, and handed it back to her with one hand. Akane reached out to take it, and his other hand gently caught her own before she could react. The confused look hit her again when her reflexes didn’t kick in. She didn’t jump back, she didn’t smack him. Nothing. She just sat there and let it happen. She nearly broke into tears at the first comforting warmth she had felt all day. His hand was surprisingly soft and gentle as he turned hers so he could see the bruise on the back of it. It was clearly fresh, so she wouldn’t be able to lie about getting it a few days ago or anything. His aura didn’t infuriate her, didn’t make her want to rip his throat out. If anything it only served to weaken her resolve, to bring her closer to breaking down. Don’t. You’re fine. Crying is for children. Nothing even happened so stop being a baby. It doesn’t matter that his hand is warm and comforting and feels like home so suck it up and deal with it. “What happened?” She carefully, softly pulled her hand back, instantly missing his touch. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” She said quietly. He sighed and reluctantly handed over the jar. She gladly accepted it and turned away from him without another word, even more desperately trying to fight back the sobs that were attempting to choke her. Trying to ignore the emptiness she felt as she tried to put physical distance between them. They’re all the same. He’ll only hurt me if I trust him. I’m just tired and weak. People are all the same. They’ll all only betray me. They don’t care. They’re just... horrible and cold. His footsteps took him a few feet away, but then stopped. Mikoto halted in the doorway and looked back at her. It would have been funny, a girl cradling a jar of pickles like it was a child, if she didn’t look so heartbroken. The day must’ve really kicked her ass. She didn’t deserve that. He knew it. He caught slight movement in her otherwise motionless body and realized she was shivering. He never felt the cold, always able to produce more than enough of his own heat to maintain comfort. But she was different. She was fragile. She had to be taken care of, no matter what she said or how much she protested. The man frowned as she sniffled, fighting a losing battle against her own overpowering emotions. He knew she wanted to be more, or less, than human. That she did her best to fight emotions altogether. But underneath it all there was only so much she could take. He only wished he could protect her from everything that seemed to try so desperately to push her past the breaking point. Akane hugged the jar to her chest like it would stop her heart from exploding. There were too many emotions. She couldn’t deal. Not alone. Her own burdens were crushing her in the isolation she had created for herself.  Then, out of nowhere, there was safety. She turned in surprise, just in time to see Mikoto exit the room, leaving behind his jacket, which was now wrapped around her shoulders. It was still warm from his touch. It created a shelter around her that, instead of separating her from the world, protected her from it. And for the first time that night she felt safe. She wiped some of the tears from her eyes and pulled it tighter around her, a small smile forcing its way to her lips, and a mild but persistent heat rose to her cheeks. Well... maybe not all of them.

[lady-of-endless]

"One Of Those Nights" (Mikoto Suoh x Reader)

Author's Note: NSFW. I am definitely not proud of this one but I kinda enjoyed writing it. Hope that there aren't too many grammar mistakes and if there are any, my apologies. Sorry it's filled with clichés.

The first puff of smoke from a cigarette is always the strongest and the most bitter one. Always when Mikoto is smoking, that first taste makes him frown. It was initially as harsh as all of his thoughts that did not allow him to sleep at that late hour, making him lose some time, relaxing on his balcony and staring at the city from above.

While letting the tiny sparkle of fire devour the material of his cigar and burn the tobacco, his gaze was fixed on the dark streets of his neighborhood. One or two cars would be seen in the night. It was that particular moment when it was too late at night and too early in the morning at the same time. Somehow, Mikoto could guess that you would be awake as well because your insomnia was strangely matching his sometimes. And so, without any warning, you appeared in his thoughts even if only three or four hours passed since he has last seen you.

With the feeling of smoke being trapped inside his throat and being satisfied with it, after stabbing his cigarette into the ash tray, Mikoto came back inside his house. He opened one of his wardrobes and hanged his black leather jacket, stopping in place for a few seconds with the palms of his hands against the cupboard.

Of course his thoughts were all about how much he would have enjoyed spending the night with you on that balcony. You did not even have to worry about the cold temperature from outside because his body would have trapped yours, keeping you warm. With this image in mind, he leaned against the wall of his bedroom and began to build his ideal scenario. Slow kisses, lazy touches, the sound of your moans being heard all over in his apartment.

 Mikoto snapped back to reality with a groan, and pulled out of the pockets of his jeans his phone, checking it. Zero notifications. He was pleased by that, he could just let himself tumble into his bed and try to fall asleep.

Now lying in bed with silence around him, as Mikoto stared at the ceiling, his mind was again occupied by you. His mobile phone was still in his hand, tempting him to send you even the most effortless text. But why would he send the first message? He does not do that but still, he did not have to explain his actions to anyone, right? After all, the Red King was wanting something.

'Busy tonight?'

He gave up and wrote that message, sending it to you afterwards. With that one message he let his phone slip from his hand, onto the mattress carelessly as he got up. Mikoto headed for the drinks cabinet from his living room. He chose a bottle of a distinguished liquor from which he poured just a little in a glass. He enjoyed that sweet taste leisurely.

The last drop of alcohol that slipped lazily into his mouth brought even more images of you in his mind. Mikoto always liked to get you flustered in public as he was finding your reactions so delectable. He was so damn perceptive, noticing the slightest difference about you. When you two are both at the bar during the day, all that it takes to make you blush is Mikoto to look deep into your eyes and then lower his gaze on your body. Looking at him as he has no fear of someone else paying attention to his look that was practically undressing you, it was making hard to keep your composure.

While thinking about such a delightful scene and smiling to himself proudly, the doorbell rang. His smile dropped as Mikoto frowned for a moment. Who would be there at that hour, and what would that someone want from him?

Danger or not, he did not panic at all, he could handle it either way. Opening the door without hesitation, he was surprised by your figure standing in the doorway. This one time and many other moments found Mikoto wondering about how you knew exactly what he wanted. You were calmly wearing his favorite smile on your face.

“I felt like I was needed.” You said without entering his apartment, which was familiar to you, gesturing to the phone from your hand that was opened exactly on his message.

Mikoto raised an eyebrow at your words, wanting to keep his usual unimpressed expression on his face. He breathed in your perfume deeply, being addicted to it since he got closer to you for the first time.

“You are the one who showed up at my door without me asking for it.” He responded in the same monotonous way that had a hint of a subtle dare. The truth was that he was more than amazed by the fact that you showed up, almost reading his mind and moreover, he really was asking for it.

This was not the first time he was taken by surprise because of the way you would know what he wanted and because of someone actually giving him affection more than just out of respect.

Without further discussion, you started to look intensely in each other's eyes.

What you did not know was that when Mikoto's gaze was burning deeply, he was analyzing his two options. The first option would be to follow the scenario that he created in his mind a few minutes ago. The second option was to leave the plan behind, mindlessly letting himself drown into the pleasure of having you.

Suddenly taking you by your right hand, your body was pulled closer to his. You placed your left hand on his chest, staring at his face, panicking that he might hear your heart beating faster than usual. Mikoto could hear whispers of encouragement inside of him.

In the next second, his lips curved into a smirk indicating that he already felt the crazy beating of your heart. With the knowledge that he was causing this, Mikoto realized that he did not have to choose between options, he could have a bit of both. The way you were looking at him was indicating how he could have everything, how you were willing to give him everything.

“Lock the door.” He said looking over your shoulder. You closed the door as he said and turned your attention back to him, waiting for his next move. “Seems like you needed me as bad as I needed you.” He added satisfied and sincere.

You could not respond to his words because your lips got swiftly occupied with Mikoto's kiss. Both of you had your eyes closed while the sensuous kiss caused you both pleasure. You gave him comfort, and he gave you strength, everyone from the Red Clan learned this about your relationship. When Homra had to meet with members from Scepter 4, Mikoto enjoyed seeing the other clan members confused about the glares he was offering you, way too much. Having you was a privilege that no other King had.

Breaking the kiss, Mikoto placed a hand in your hair as his face moved closer to your ear. Your cheeks were touched by strands of his red hair.

“Now cllose your eyes.” He whispered, his voice being so clear yet hoarse. “And trust me.”

When it was about trust, there was no moment in which you doubted the Red King. Mikoto has endured a lot, seeing all sorts of unpleasant things, experiencing all sorts of hurtful things on his skin just for the safety of Homra. He even got imprisoned just to get what the Red Clan needed. All these facts and seeing how much he appreciated you silently not only made you trust him more but it also made you want to be closer to him.

You closed your eyes and placed the palms of your hands on his upper arm muscles, accepting and trying to relax. After this, you felt how you both moved a few steps away from the place where you initially were, stepping over something unknown. After stepping over what it was a threshold, the temperature around you suddenly dropped and a door was closed behind you.

When you opened your eyes, what you saw approved your intuition. You were with Mikoto on his balcony in the dark, the place being lit just by the dim lights from the streets and the city. It was an incredible landscape, even if your attention could not be focused on it, but rather on why Mikoto decided to change the scenery. He knew what he wanted from the beginning.

“Mikoto...” You called his name softly. “It's cold here, do something.” You continued while tightening the grip around his upper arms to draw his attention to your wish.

“Not yet, only when I think you deserve it.” He continued with a specific smile on his face.

Confused by his words, you did not have time to ask what he meant and what you had to prove him because Mikoto has pulled you against his body by the collar of your shirt. Your lips were captured in another kiss.

Mikoto muttered satisfied when he touched your lips. He could have admitted that he needed you, could have told you pompous words that would express how important you were for him, but Mikoto was not the type to do that, knowing how he did not have to use those with you. Every little game between you two, every exchange of glares or gestures being enough to make you understand and most importantly feel.

Mikoto broke the kiss in order to have some moments to fully admire your lips and let you catch your breath. He grabbed your chin and ran his thumb over your lower lip carefully.

“I tasted a hint of liquor in the kiss.” You whispered not wanting to ruin the thrilling moment.

Mikoto almost got hypnotized by the motion of your lips when you told him those words.

“That does not sound like a bad thing.” He said in his deep voice, his gaze coming back to your eyes. “But this is better and more addictive.” He said knowing his next move.

The hand that held your chin came down to the base of your neck, which he grabbed gently. His other hand has reached your left hip, pushing your body against the balcony door.

Mikoto's pride was satisfied with every reaction you made, so he decided to go further, testing your boundaries.

No kiss was addictive, not even a special drink, not his cigarettes but your presence. He did not notice you in the first place when you became a member of Homra. In time, he began to see details of you that made him get attached to you more than expected. Sleepless nights became delightful for him as you could not sleep as well. Because of this, you two were spending time together at the bar, sitting side by side on the couch with a glass of whatever drink you were enjoying that night in your hands.

Those nights were really the ones that brought you two closer to each other. It was all so serene. Mikoto was never known to be talkative but when he was with you on that couch he was answering with longer phrases than usual. With every night passed in this manner, some discussions were even lost because of the increasingly intimate visual contact while the distance between your bodies was shrinking.

Now, in the present, Mikoto was towering over you, biting your lower lip hungrily, causing you to moan his name, exactly the reaction he was expecting to win from you.

“What is it? Am I making you this weak?” He asked before his hand slowly descended over your chest, your abdomen, leaving a trace of a subtle heat on your skin.

You had a plan, a little game that you knew it was going to give you quite an interesting reaction from the Red King. Suddenly and confident about your plan, you put both of hands on his shoulders grabbing them tightly and somehow, taking Mikoto by surprise, pulling his body closer while turning both of you around so that he was the one against the door.

His amber eyes sparkled with something you could understand. The expression from his face was indicating you that he was not amused while his glare was intense, alive.

“I'm not in the mood for cat-and-mouse games.” He said although he was smirking while pushing his lower half against your hips. It wasn't a secret that he actually enjoyed this side of you even if he preferred to be the one in control.

“Are you really looking for trouble?” His eyes looked dangerously at you, daring you to answer his question.

“Only when trouble is sounding and looking this attractive.” You answered smiling at him. “And what will you do now? Make me regret this move?” You asked while moving your face closer to his and tilting your head, tempting him.

Mikoto noticed what you were trying to do so one hand went to your hair while placing his forehead against yours without breaking the visual contact. “Worse, I'll do whatever I want.”

Feeling how his words brushed against your lips, a chill ran down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back, so he had access to your neck. All of your sweet spots were found in no time. He paid attention to every inch of your skin, biting sensitive areas, tracing random patterns with his warm tongue, making sure you felt the possession.

It was impossible not to melt into his arms when he was switching from tenderness to rough hunger.

As Mikoto felt your body relaxing in his arms, he took advantage of this to turn you back where you were, against the door, keeping you in place by your neck.

His hand from your hair was slowly lowered over your shoulders, chest, stomach and your needy lower region, causing your back to arch at his touch.

For a few seconds, Mikoto stepped back just to admire what he has done. He wanted to memorize every detail he saw, your messy hair, hazy eyes, your neck being decorated with marks of his bites.

“Look at you, so good for me.” He said looking at how your chest was raising and falling back rapidly while you were catching your breath.

“Oh come on, stop playing, you are an...” Your words stopped in favor of a whimper.

What had caused this? His right knee that slid upwards slowly against the door and between your legs, making you to open them.

“Was that something? I could not hear you clearly.” His lids dropped so that he narrowed his gaze.

Your reactions only inspired more desires.

Mikoto, the King of the Red Clan, who controlled the fire inside of him, saw flames in your eyes as well, flames which he wanted to play with. He was the one to bring fire in your heart when you thought that all you had were ashes, impossible to light up flames again. His type of love not only kept your fire and his alive, it kept both of you invincible.

“Let's move this to my bedroom.” He said already having in mind the thought of you on his bed, your body below his.

He stepped away from you, making you instantly feel the loss of his body heat, letting your blood to cool before following him.

The Red King almost shivered. How was he this lucky? What has he done to deserve you? Some minutes ago he was thinking about how he would have enjoyed if you were with him and without directly asking for it, you still came to him.

Mikoto smiled calmly without you seeing it. In the next few days your scent would be impregnated on his bed sheets, helping him fall asleep faster while thinking about those moments with you.

[kmorelikegay]

almost forgotten

For Day 2: Alternate Universe.

This is really late, but technically where I am it’s only 2 days late, so that’s acceptable, right?

Also on AO3.

The underground facility is dark and damp, and the wet sound of groundwater dripping from the ceiling and down the perfect paint of the walls permeates the air. The juxtaposition is unsettling, especially since, even through the humid air and several layers of concrete, Yata thinks he can hear the horrible moaning of the experimental subjects being kept here.

When the Homra special investigative unit had received a tip that the Jungle cartel used this facility to test new drug formulas on human subjects, they had expected it to be a straightforward drug bust: With a small team of special agents, arrest anyone on site (no interrogating allowed offsite; all suspects are to be taken directly into Homra custody and trialed and imprisoned at a later time) and perform a sweep of the place and confiscate all cartel property and operations – all in a couple hours’ work, usually. But Yata and his partner had been able to tell right away that this run was different. They couldn’t see the facility when they arrived, for one; had needed to confirm and then reconfirm that their coordinates read right before eventually discovering an entrance, tucked inside the bottom of an old well, which led to an expansive underground structure that made no effort to hide the opulence upon which it was built. The walls shone a brilliant green, the floors and ceilings were painted a bright white that made Yata’s head hurt, and gold-trimmed furniture decorated every room. It was odd, to say the least, of a facility they believed to be a simple drug den to look this way.

Stranger, however – and much more worrying, in Yata’s opinion – was the lack of security or any apparent personnel on the grounds. He thought at first that perhaps Jungle believed their well-hidden entrance and lack of any evidence of the operation on the surface provided them enough security in itself. But it is clear they don’t lack the funding to hire at least a guard for the entrance and a few for the top floor, so why not do it? Besides, they had found rooms on one of the lower floors which appeared to be dormitories, all with evidence of recent inhabitation: Unmade beds, shoes thrown halfway under mattresses, lockers full of clothes and other belongings and, most revealing, a large floor locker of the small but powerful pistols preferred by Jungle and plenty of ammunition to fuel them. Clearly, the place is guarded by some sort of security force, which means that either they all happened to take the same day off, or…

“No ash!” comes a shout from the end of the hall. Shit; that’s Kamamoto’s voice – they had been trying to estimate how many guards they could possibly expect as well as investigate how to get down to the lower floors, where Homra was told the human subjects are kept. He hears a call of his name again, and then the sound of footsteps – more noise than just one person’s would make – thundering toward his partner. Those words are Homra code for an urgent message: Run.

Yata is going to disregard the message – it isn’t in his nature to leave one of his behind, and he didn’t hear orders being given or the metallic clanging of guns, so maybe Kamamoto can still be retrieved – but as soon as he pokes his head out of the dormitory he’d been searching he sees that his partner has already been surrounded by a group of men in women in armored uniforms the same green as the walls. Although he has been restrained, he seems to be attempting to talk himself out of it – Yata doesn’t have high hopes for him, as charisma generally isn’t Kamamoto’s strong suit – but Yata recognizes it for what it is: His partner is distracting the security detail so that Yata can continue the mission.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, hopes for Kamamoto’s safety until he can rescue him later, and dashes down the hall in the opposite direction of his partner and the guards – and the only exit. The hall gets darker down this way, and, if it’s possible, even more humid, as if the thick concrete walls somehow welcome the moisture from the ground inside like an old friend. After a while, Yata has to turn his flashlight on, and he continues searching the floors and walls for traps as well as ladders, doors, elevators, or anything that might take him to a lower level. He hasn’t found any evidence of a drug lab or storage area or anything of the sort, but he figures either they cleared it out already (clearly they knew to expect company, somehow) or it’s all closer to the basement level. He needs to get down there before the guards figure out Kamamoto wasn’t alone.

When he turns another corner, he almost trips over an uneven spot on the floor. He looks down. It’s a latch attached to a wooden panel. Score, Yata thinks, reaching down the tug on the handle, wary of any traps it might trigger, but it comes up with no issue. Peering down into the hole revealed, he can’t see anything even with his flashlight, but there is a ladder. He nods to himself, taking out an emergency glowstick from his pack and hanging it from the ladder so he can find his way back here, puts his flashlight between his teeth to free up his hands, and descends.

Right away he can feel the difference in temperature. It’s cold down here – bone-chilling cold, the kind that seeps through the thickest layers of clothing and can’t be chased away even by the warmest fire. Yata shivers, looking around in confusion; he can still feel the heat and humidity bleeding out from the entrance he came from above him. This means the floor he’s on now must be completely isolated from the ones above it, or else there would be some sort of thermal equilibrium between the levels. He keeps climbing down, down, down, until he knows he’s gone further down than just a single floor or even two, until, when his feet finally do touch down hard and loud on the concrete of what must be the basement, Yata is almost surprised he hasn’t found himself at the center of the earth.

Releasing his hands from the ladder to grab the flashlight, Yata takes stock of his surroundings, immediately spotting a light switch to his right and flicking it on. For a moment, nothing happens; then, flickering reluctantly as if they’re being woken from a deep hibernation, the low glow of lights hanging on chains from the ceiling illuminate the room.

What he sees is not as bad as what he was expecting. There are no blood stains on the walls, no shackles nailed to the walls just high enough so a person of normal height couldn’t touch the ground, no racks of knives or fire pokers, not even any beakers or vials or any of the sort of tools he usually expects to see in a cartel’s main drug production facility. There are cells, though – small, hard rooms behind rusted but thick metal bars which form lattice shapes like a chessboard over the uncannily emerald green walls. Yata imagines the test subjects that must have been kept here, imagines this being all they knew. He shudders at the thought.

But for all he swore he could hear their misery, he can’t hear anything now except the dripping of moisture down the lengths of the cell bars. He looks left and right, both ways down the hallway he finds himself in the middle of. There are endless rows of cells both ways. He closes his eyes, listens to his instincts, realizes something in him is screaming at him to go left, and so he listens.

Several minutes pass with Yata moving warily down the hall, flashlight flicking wall to wall and floor to ceiling and ears peeled for any sound, leaving glowsticks behind every so often so he can find his way back since he has yet to see another way in or out of this area. He has gotten so used to the monotony of these tasks that when the clatter comes, a clanging of metal against something equally hard, Yata nearly jumps out of his skin. He pulls himself together quickly and starts moving toward the noise instead.

The clanging continues, guiding him to its source. It sounds like something – or someone – is hitting the metal bars of a cell with a bat, and if it is a someone rather than a something, Yata needs to make sure it is not themselves they are using as a bat. He runs faster, almost slipping on the damp floor a few times, until he finally reaches a corner around which the sound is louder than ever.

Cautiously, he draws his gun and eases himself around the corner, keeping to the shadows as best he can; he doesn’t want to startle the person, if it is a person, but his own safety needs to come first. The origin of the clanging becomes clear: In the cell around the corner, all on its own in contrast to the rows of repeating cells in the other halls, is a man kneeling on the floor facing his cell bars, and against them he bangs…his own fingernails?

Yata is so confused he lets out a gasp, and the man, whose face had been tilted down to watch his own hands against the bars, tips his head up toward Yata, who gasps again, this time in a disorienting mix of terror and relief.

The man is…it’s Saruhiko.

But it can’t be Saruhiko. His old friend was taken months ago from another special investigative unit – Scepter 4, which is both a rival and a close partner of Homra – by Jungle during a dangerous undercover mission he had volunteered for (volunteered for, but Yata has never forgiven their captain, Munakata, for agreeing to send one of his own into enemy ranks). They had thought him, assumed him dead; they had mourned him, and Yata had been devastated despite his friend’s defection to Scepter 4, that the person he was so close to was gone, that there was no chance, now, of even throwing taunts his way ever again, much less rebuilding their compromised friendship. But the man in front of him now is unmistakably Saruhiko, even with his glasses apparently missing, and Yata’s heart thunders in his chest as he takes in the familiar deep blue eyes and delicate cheekbones and tall, thin frame; he had finally accepted these were things he would never see again, and he can’t help the choked-out whisper of the man’s name that escapes his lips.

Saruhiko’s eyes widen, and Yata registers the confusion in them at the same time he realizes they are not the dark blue they should be at all. Instead, his irises are an inky black that swallows his pupils until there is no distinction between them. This is somehow less shocking than the fact that Saruhiko doesn’t seem to recognize his own name, and Yata says it again, louder this time, the last syllable lifting off his tongue so it sounds like a question, but he only gets a confused look in response again.

Yata lowers his gun, disheartened, but he still can’t just leave Saruhiko here, whether or not any of the real Saruhiko is left in him. He moves closer to his old friend, telling him who he is, telling him, it’s me, Saruhiko, remember? It’s Yata, it’s Misaki, I finally found you, I thought you were – and then he stops moving because Saruhiko has drawn himself up to his full height, taking a defensive stance, and then literal fucking wings sprout from either side of his upper back.

Yata’s gun clatters to the ground in an uncanny imitation of the sound that led him to Saruhiko in the first place. He knows some of what Jungle has developed – has seen much of it firsthand, has tried to forget much of what he has seen – but this is another level of fucked up. They had figured out pretty quickly this facility was used to test newly developed drugs on experimental subjects, mostly kidnapped civilians, but a captured member of an elite special investigative unit must have been too tempting to resist for the twisted leaders of Jungle, and Yata thinks he is now witnessing the results of this. And he remembers, too, folders full of experimental formulas Homra discovered at their last Jungle drug bust; drugs to imbue subjects with certain animal qualities, drugs to extend life at the cost of reason, and drugs to recreate creatures from myth and legend. Creatures – and Yata observes again the wings, the eyes void of color, the accentuated, beautiful facial features, the deadly nails – such as the incubus.

And then Saruhiko spreads his arms, making himself look even bigger, and he looks ready to strike with his terrible hardened fingernails, but all Yata can see are the black silhouettes of veins stenciled onto the insides of Saruhiko’s elbows where an IV might be stuck – or an injection of something terrible might be administered. As he observes what those bastards have done to Saruhiko, he backs away a little, slowly and as non-threateningly as he can, still speaking quietly, low murmurs of Saruhiko’s name and whispered reminders of who he himself is, how he’s here to help, not to hurt.

That same confused, searching look from before appears on his face again, and his brow furrows as if he’s trying to remember something important. Yata doesn’t know what they’ve done to him (though he knows what he’ll do to them, if he ever finds them – he’ll break them, he’ll fucking – ) but it seems Saruhiko has managed to keep some part of himself nonetheless. Yata feels proud of him in a twisted sort of way, and uses his moment of almost-recognition to take a slow step towards him and say softly, “I want to help you. We need to get out of here. How do we get out of here?”

Saruhiko lowers him arms, then, regarding Yata with those unsettlingly dark eyes, and Yata thinks again of his earlier revelation, of what Saruhiko might be now – or at least until they can figure out how to reverse it (if anyone can figure it out, it’s the two of them, right?). He looks again at the new features, the unfamiliar parts of him that Yata’s brain connects to those mythical demons, and his eyes see all of this but his brain cannot connect what his eyes see to the friend he remembers. But if Saruhiko really is an incubus, then he has so much power – power that cannot be unleased unless someone willingly enters into some sort of pact with him, so that they may share power, and Yata is just processing this, reconciling the realization with what it would mean (if it is him – and who else could it be? – then they would have to kiss, would have to touch, and Yata isn’t opposed to this, has never been opposed to this, but Saruhiko isn’t…Saruhiko doesn’t…he doesn’t remember…)

He is almost too busy fighting down the flush on his face to hear the quiet whisper of his name, a soft, “Misaki,” not really a question but said like he’s sounding out the letters for the first time, said like he’s never sounded out letters before at all, and Yata’s heart breaks at the familiar (but different, so different) voice even as hope flares in his chest. If they can communicate, then –

A loud clamber from around the corner and down the hall snaps him out of his thoughts. It is coming from back the way he came, and then he hears footsteps and shouting, and fuck, he thinks, the glowsticks. Beside him, Saruhiko has drawn himself out to his full size again, wings and arms spread, and he’s nearly snarling in the direction of the noise, but when the metallic clang of a gun hilt hitting the stone wall echoes down the hallway, he flinches, and that is fear now in his eyes.

Yata springs into action.

“Saruhiko,” he calls urgently, not bothering to be quiet anymore; they’ve already been discovered, and now haste is the most important thing. “If you are what I think you are…we need to make a pact. Right now, Saruhiko. We need to make a pact and then we need to get out of here, and we can’t do it without each other, you have no power without a willing person and I don’t know how to get out of here and even if I did I’m not leaving without you – “

He’s cut off by a cool grip on his wrist. Saruhiko is looking at him intently, staring into his eyes, and despite the coldness of his hands Saruhiko’s gaze warms Yata so much (all he ever wanted before was this man’s eyes on him, this man’s attention, this man’s – ) that he almost misses his slow chanting, said under his breath in words that get swallowed by the humid air but with red lips that part over them and with eyes that never leave Yata’s, and then something shifts in him, and he can feel Saruhiko as if his friend has moved aside Yata’s insides and made room for himself there, and as soon as he has that thought Saruhiko dissipates before his eyes and then Yata gasps because now he can feel Saruhiko inside him not only spiritually but physically, and then a voice in his head that sounds like Saruhiko says, calmly, “Misaki. Run,” and Yata does.

-

Yata is panting heavily by the time he can see the sun again, but he doesn’t feel tired. He has never felt more exhilarated in his life. He feels so fast (sprinting through the halls at supernatural speed, twisting and turning through the cells in the basement and somehow knowing exactly where to turn next), so powerful (the crack of bone against stone walls and floors, moving in and out of the shadows as if he’s not fighting them but part of them, and thrum of Saruhiko’s inky black, intoxicating power in his head and all his limbs), so unstoppable. He cannot help it; he laughs out loud, and it feels even better when he feels Saruhiko’s echo if it inside him.

And, oh, fuck – Saruhiko is inside him, and he chokes on his laughter, feeling his face heat and his body start to react despite the situation they’re in. He doesn’t even notice when the intrusion of the demon – though he’s already stopped thinking of Saruhiko as a demon, if he ever did, and it doesn’t feel like an intrusion anymore so much as a welcome guest, a missing piece, an old friend – disappears from within him until he hears another call of his name, this time heard in his ears and not his mind, and whips around with a still-burning face to see Saruhiko now in the flesh in front of him.

He still has that searching look on his face, but his eyes reflect the exhilaration Yata feels, and he’s wearing a smirk that suggests he knows exactly what Yata is thinking – which, shit, he probably does; he had Saruhiko’s voice in his head, after all, so he probably knows his thoughts too. But then Yata notices how pale he looks, and barely moves in time to catch him as his knees buckle and he gives in to gravity.

His mouth is spouting questions faster than his head can come up with them – “Shit, Saruhiko, are you okay, what happened, what can I do, how can I fix it” – when he remembers the pact, and then asks instead, blushing furiously, “Oh, you need…shit, Saruhiko.” He feels so hot, and he wants this, so much, but Saruhiko still doesn’t remember, but he looks like he’s about to die, so Yata finally blurts, “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Saruhiko looks up at him warily from where he’s slumped in Yata’s arms, and Yata’s face heats even more; his gaze is so penetrating, and then fuck, he has to blush even harder at the thought. But Saruhiko clicks his tongue, making Yata’s heart clench with the familiarity, and turns away from him, facing down at the grass instead, and says, “I’m fine. Misaki.”

But he’s not fine, and Yata isn’t going to let him get away with not taking care of himself like he did when he was…well, himself. (It seems not so much of the real Saruhiko was lost, after all, even if he doesn’t remember.) And Yata provided food for him before, tried to get him to eat properly, and he’ll do it again, provide sustenance for Saruhiko, even if the sustenance he needs now is…less innocent.

But if Saruhiko needs it, and Yata wants it, then even if it’s not the real Saruhiko, then it should be okay, right?

So he calls his friend’s name again, softly, fondly. “Saruhiko,” he says. “Saru.” And he’d almost forgotten, what it felt like to have this man’s gaze on him, but he remembers all at once as their eyes meet; he’d almost forgotten, how it felt for their hands and bodies to touch, but it comes back to him as their fingers intertwine; he’s almost forgotten, what it was like when their lips slotted together, but it all comes flooding back with Saruhiko’s mouth brushing his, Saruhiko’s tongue running along the seam of his lips, Saruhiko’s breath flooding into his mouth in a rush, and he kisses just like the old Saruhiko, so that Yata almost forgets that he isn’t, not really. He lets himself have this, lets them hold each other as the sun he’d almost forgotten about caresses their hair and their backs. They are so close that he feels it both under his palms and within himself when the effects of the kiss hit Saruhiko, and he pulls back, watching his skin flush with color and the black in his eyes retreat as if chased, giving way to that deep, beautiful blue. He looks, now, exactly like his friend, exactly like Saruhiko, and then he whispers Yata’s name again, his voice breathy and gorgeous, “Misaki,” and Yata cannot do anything against it; he takes Saruhiko’s hands in his again and pulls him forward and Saruhiko meets him in the middle, and Yata lets him muscle memory take over as he refamiliarizes himself with his oldest friend’s touch.

[thelostandforgottenangel]

My hero

I can’t believe I forgot to post this... What is wrong with me wrote this days ago put in my finished folder but never shared...

Okay Mikey girl’s hope you enjoy @homra-the-red-clan @devilsnevercry1388 (If there are more of you wonderful girls let me know and I’ll tag you)

It had been one of those long horrid days that had effectively drained her of any energy she might have had and she was just ready to get back in the sewers and to the lair just so she could finally sit down

Morning training had been bad enough with Leonardo still a little ticked over the previous night’s patrol where one mistake had cost them not only the chance to find out what the Foot were up to they had let them escape due to Raph’s need to question their leader again, she hadn’t done anything wrong but when one of them messed up they were all punished with the choice of time in the Ha’shi or hours on end in Leo’s ninjitsu boot camp as she liked to refer to it since he was just as bad as any drill sergeant off TV.

Then for her classes to run a lot longer than she had liked and being piled with so much homework she had lost track of time at the library finishing all her homework just as the night security guard had tapped her on the shoulder telling her the place was closing making her realize she had stayed way too long rushing to stuff all her books and notes in the bag on her hip as she waved goodbye and rushed off but by the time she slipped into the subways bumping into a man by accident just trying to get down the steps she had missed the train kicking the ground

It was going to be the last one for the night which meant she was stranded

She grumbled under her breath glancing up at the security camera wondering if Donatello was monitoring it or if he was already out with the others, she headed for the street wondering if she could catch a cab but didn’t have any money on her since she had somehow left her wallet sitting on her dresser… Leo was going to kill her for missing patrol, Master Splinter would no doubt ground her - she needed to get home now but it would take over an hour running on the roofs but would take more than three on the streets and she knew there was no way she could jump over most of those spaces on her own

That left only one option which was to walk to a street close to April’s and go to the abandoned sewer tunnels close to Leatherheads place in hopes Donnie was still there

The teen had been walking for a while when she notices a man following her – in fact now that she thought about it and was aware of her surroundings he had been following her since she had left the substation she glanced to the busy streets moving acting like she hadn’t noticed he was there heading across the road as the light turned for the cross walk

Once on the other side she walked to the corner turning it as she searched for her phone glancing back to see the man had followed and was looking right at her

Instincts kicked in making her calmly assess the situation shifting her bag tightening the strap shifting a few things in it before moving her shirt inside to make it curve over her belly before she turned the next corner untying her hoodie from her waist and pulling it over her head keeping her hood on as she kept walking keeping her head down before ducking into a crowd of people going the other direction

For a moment she was sure she had gave him the slip when she pulled out her cell to call the guys seeing the battery was dead going to slip it into her pocket when a hand grabbed her arm yanking her from the street pinning her to the wall as a hand went over her mouth “Cute disguise kid - had me fooled for a moment but then I saw that pink sticky note on the back of your jacket” she swallowed hard before a knife was at her throat seeing the man who had been stalking her realizing he had put a marker on her to be sure he didn’t lose her as he pressed down over her skin gritting her teeth as he pinned her into the bricks a small sting making her whimper as he cut her neck slightly only making him hold her mouth harder

Fear consumed her body to the point she couldn‘t move the further the blade slid over her skin feeling the warmth of a blood droplet oozing down her neck tears prickling her eyes realizing he had no thoughts of letting her walk away from this much less letting her live

“Hey get off her!” she was shocked when the blade was yanked from his hand before the man pinning her was tossed across the alley getting a big gasp of air hearing the scuffle as she pressed into the wall trembling as the man turn and ran his head bleeding from a wound just in his hair line before she saw who was standing in front of her protectively looked up from behind a shell to see a bright smile and a pair of baby blue eyes “Damn – I swear you are too good at misdirection one moment I was looking at you ready to snatch you at the next alley then you were gone… man if it hadn’t been for him turning around and following you I never would have-”

A soft gasp was followed by a relieved giggle “MIKEY” she slammed into him hugging the smaller turtle as a shaky sob erupting from her throat clinging to him tightly her face buried in his neck as he lifted her to hold onto the trembling woman

He was quick to hug her back shushing the teen in his arms before he picked her up in his arms moving back into the shadows still clinging to her as she cried into his shoulder “Hey – shhh it’s okay baby girl I got you” she nodded as he pushed her back kissing her face until she was smiling for him checking her over slowly seeing the small cut on her neck gently wiping the blood away before pressing a kiss to it “There all better – that jerk tried to hurt my girl bet it scared you pretty good”

He chuckled as she nodded before looking around slowly hearing a siren getting closer to them pulling her into his grasp before backing up all the way down the way looking to the roof before lifting her up laughing at the fake pregnant belly rubbing it playfully once they were safely on the rooftop

“Okay babycakes here’s the deal - I told the others to not worry cause I had asked you to stop off at the store to grab me a few things… But I also snuck out to come help you so do you think you can help me by maybe running in the store and grabbing a case of orange crush and a few of those snacks I like so they don’t find out about all this – Please I got the munchies so bad and I promise to love my baby girl always for doing this for her favorite turtle”

She giggled pressing a kiss to his cheek nodding quickly

No words could describe how thankful he had thought to cover her butt when she had never come home plus risking time in the Ha’shi for sneaking to the surface to rescue her so she wouldn’t get in trouble was more then she could have ever asked him to do and was more than happy to return the favor

“Mikey store closes in ten minutes we better hurry and I’ll grab you something special for being my hero tonight along with anything you ask for”

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Eighteen (Final)

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 18/18

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

Note #2: Thank you so much to everyone who read and enjoyed this fic! I hope you like the ending - let me know what you think if you are feeling up to it!

The fully charged moonstone felt hot in Yata’s pocket as he stepped into the lobby of Munakata’s office building.

It had been like that since the afternoon, when they’d completed the final charge – a comforting sort of heat that gave him the impression of sunlight sinking into his body. At the same time, he could feel the sense of the stone’s own identity, cool and inviting, as a contrast. It was sorta like the completed charge had given it a new aspect, drawing out a side of its personality that had been suppressed before.

“Since when does a stone have a personality?” Saruhiko had drawled when he’d voiced that thought as they wrapped up their moonlight charging.

Yata had shrugged it off. “You just don’t get it.”

“I’m fine with that,” Saruhiko had agreed dryly. “It’s enough trouble keeping up with sentient beings – I don’t need to consider the feelings of rocks on top of that.” A slight pause had followed, and then he’d added reluctantly, “This one does feel different now, though.”

That had been enough to draw a grin from Yata. “Told ya.”

“I already regret saying anything.”

The exchange had been somewhat subdued; they’d already said their personal goodbyes before flying out to Munakata’s office building for that last charge. After a lengthy discussion and putting together what seemed like a solid plan for how they’d see each other going forward, neither of them had wanted to draw out what remained of this flawed contract, so the decision had been to cut it off cleanly and start on the new arrangement as soon as possible. It meant a few days apart before Yata would summon Saruhiko again, but that was something they were going to have to get used to, regardless.

“I probably need to clean up a bunch of messes at work anyway,” Saruhiko had said easily, his fingers playing idly with Yata’s on the mattress between them. They had done most of their talking like that, enjoying the closeness and comfort it allowed. “There’s only so much you can do remotely.”

Yata had huffed out a brief laugh in response, turning his hand so their fingers could entwine. “Bet it’s not as bad as you think.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “It’s probably worse.”

“You’re just too damn fussy.”

Truthfully, he was gonna have some catching up to do, too; he’d had way too many unplanned days off already, and there was still rent and bills to take care of. Plus, he missed going to Homra more often. Basically, life went on – they’d just have to keep up as best they could.

He didn’t mind shifting some stuff around to make room for this new thing between them, though. It was worth putting in the effort to make it work.

“This is it, huh?” Saruhiko mused, as Yata pressed the elevator button in Munakata’s office building. His expression was relaxed when their eyes met, a small rueful upturn to his lips the only indication of his emotions. “Ready to end it?”

“Ready to start it,” Yata corrected him, smirking in response – and got the satisfaction of seeing that tiny upturn grow to a real smile in response.

“I guess you’re right about that.”

Munakata was waiting for them when they made their way down, still seated behind his office desk despite the late hour and with a smile on his face that looked entirely too self-satisfied for Yata’s taste. “My, my,” he commented when they stepped through the door. “How unexpected to see the two of you at this hour, and after such a lengthy absence.” He leaned forward in his chair, studying them with interest. “I was beginning to think that perhaps some trouble prevented you from coming.”

Yata snorted. “Yeah, well, you thought wrong.” ‘Trouble’ was probably not the right word for it, but he wasn’t gonna explain more than he had to. “And talking about the hour, how about you, huh? D’you just sit here constantly or what?”

The smile on Munakata’s face widened marginally, but he didn’t respond to the question. “Judging by the timing of this visit, I expect the charges have been completed.” He glanced back and forth between them. “Is that a fair assumption?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, even as Yata scowled. “Why do you bother to ask when you already know the answer?”

“Call it a professional courtesy,” Munakata responded smoothly. He bridged his hands in front of him. “And how did you find the experience of charging them, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

Yata glanced at Saruhiko, and found his gaze returned. Somehow, just the simple act of making eye contact had his skin prickling and heart picking up a notch. He couldn’t help the wry smile spreading on his face, and was gratified to note how the corners of Saruhiko’s mouth turned up in response. “Pain in the ass,” he answered glibly, letting that smile build to a smirk as he turned his head forward again.

“Unnecessarily complicated,” Saruhiko added dryly – but the amusement in his tone was clear.

“I see.” Munakata shut his eyes for a moment, letting out a soft chuckle as if in response to some private joke. When he opened them again, his gaze was strangely fond. “It would appear that the two of you have exceeded my expectations.” Lowering his hands, he pushed himself gracefully up from his seat. “Congratulations are thus in order.”

Yata blinked, taken aback. “Eh?”

Saruhiko recovered more quickly, clicking his tongue. “You haven’t even seen the results yet.”

Munakata smiled beatifically, moving around the desk to face them. He was a tall man, which Yata more or less knew from the few times they’d faced each other when he wasn’t sitting at his office desk – but it still irked him all the same. “If you would be so kind as to present them, then.”

That was a cue he could understand. Yata reached into his pocket to grasp the moonstone. He felt a strange reluctance as he drew it out, a tiny hint of loss at being asked to part with it. Probably because of… yeah. Saying goodbye wasn’t easy, even if it wouldn’t be permanent. Despite the feeling, he held out his hand without hesitation, opening his fingers to reveal the stone on his palm. A second or so later, he noticed Saruhiko doing the same beside him.

Munakata studied the two of them for only a brief second before nodding his approval. “Set them on my desk for now,” he instructed. “I will have Awashima-kun carry them on to their next destination once her time permits.”

Next destination? The thought jumped into his head just before Saruhiko asked, “Where are they going?”

“It need not concern you for now.” The response was easy but firm; clearly, the subject was off-limits. Munakata waited while they followed his instruction, and then went on. “Before I proceed to void the contract, did you have any farewells to make?”

Already done. Once again, Yata glanced at Saruhiko – and once again, he found Saruhiko meeting his eyes. This time, it was a full grin that spread on his face. “See ya,” he offered casually.

Saruhiko lowered his eyelids, the smile on his face reflecting Yata’s satisfaction back at him. “Mm,” he returned, and then in that casual drawl added, “See you.”

It was as simple as that, but it felt like a promise all the same.

“Very well, then.” Munakata stepped forward, extending his arms to press his index finger to each of their foreheads.

The touch was light, but Yata felt the surge of energy that flooded him very clearly. He shut his eyes instinctively against it, sucking in a breath sharply – and when he opened them again, Saruhiko was no longer standing beside him.

The sense of sudden loss was sharper than he expected. Yata swallowed, staring for a moment at the spot where Saruhiko had been. This was the way they’d planned it, and he was still sure it was the best way, but he felt the ache that came from parting all the same. Now that it came down to it and they had to go their separate ways for real… he couldn’t help but feel a bit lonely.

I’ll see him again, he reminded himself, trying to shake off that mood. It wouldn’t be long, and they had their whole lives ahead of them to work out any potential problems.

“This occasion puts me in mind of a particular sentiment I’ve heard expressed frequently.” When Yata looked up, Munakata was studying him keenly. “All good things must end in time.”

“Heh.” Yata shook his head. “You got it wrong – it’s not the end.” He offered a smirk, feeling his earlier optimism returning. “This good thing is just getting started!”

Munakata shut his eyes, a small mysterious smile on his lips. “Well said,” he responded simply.

Saturday nights, Yata always made sure he was home early.

It wasn’t like he could summon Saruhiko right away. They’d had long talks – and occasional arguments – over the logistics of their arrangement, but one of the agreements they’d hammered out was around timing. Saruhiko was always irritable if he responded to a summon when he’d been in the middle of work, even if he tried to hide it. It had required some trial and error and a certain amount of strain at first, but eventually they’d knocked the rough edges off of the process. They both made an effort to be ready at whatever time they’d agreed on – no “spontaneous” early summons and no “voluntary” overtime.

After months of pressing the point, he’d finally convinced Saruhiko that it was no big deal to just refuse the summon if he was in the middle of something urgent, and Yata would try again in an hour. There was no point if they couldn’t relax and enjoy themselves.

Feels like he doesn’t really get the whole relaxing thing. But that was changing too.

Slowly, surely, they’d been smoothing things out. Yata couldn’t help but smile when he thought about it, the pleasant anticipation he always felt when he thought about seeing Saruhiko again coursing through him as he stepped through the door into his apartment. It wasn’t perfect, and it would’ve been better if they could just move in together without the limitations – and complications – of a binding contract, but they were making it work.

Maybe someday they’d figure out something better, but for now, he was content with what they had.

Either way, the main reason he came home early was to make sure he had time to eat and shower before drawing up the summoning circle. And today there was an extra reason he’d been eager to get back, one that had him kicking off his shoes with even more enthusiasm than before. In front of him on the table, the wrapped box he’d brought home several days ago was still sitting there, reminding him of the occasion.

A whole year since then, huh? Plus a few days, since they’d agreed to stick to their regular Saturday rather than try to hit the exact date. But yeah, a year ago he’d summoned Saruhiko unexpectedly and kicked off this whole business.

It was worth celebrating, for sure.

Yata had been thinking about what to get for a while, and finally settled on a set of coffee mugs – specifically, two of the mugs used for customers at Hakumaitou, which had cost him a lot more from his stash than he’d expected. They were plain off-white, but he’d gone out and gotten their names engraved in bold print – ‘Saruhiko’ in blue on one and ‘Misaki’ in red on the other.

Saruhiko would have to leave his here and only use it when he visited, from Saturday night to Monday morning, but Yata kinda thought the sentiment was fitting. He had a fresh bag of Hakumaitou’s special coffee, too – and hope of flying out for a view of the city from ‘their’ spot at some point during the night.

It was all pretty low-key, but it suited them. He was really looking forward to it.

Yata had just finished cleaning up after his dinner, about to move the table aside so he could start drawing up the summoning circle, when there was a knock at his door.

What the hell? He frowned, hesitating for a second. Usually he didn’t get many visitors. Sometimes one of his friends would drop by if they were in the area, but everyone knew Saturdays were off-limits, and he’d mentioned the anniversary too.

The landlord? It would be unusual, but it had happened. Well, only one way to find out. Yata hurried forward and swung the door open.

His skin prickled, mouth falling open as shock paralyzed him. All he could do for a moment was stare.

How…?

Saruhiko returned his gaze, shifting on his feet in a slight, awkward motion. His shoulders were a bit hunched and his expression was oddly hesitant. “I don’t have a key to your place,” he drawled, after a moment of startled silence.

Yata blinked, recovering from his stupor – and then blinked twice more in rapid succession, double checking that he was really seeing this. “Wh-why are you here?” he managed to stammer out after another awkward pause, too stunned to react in any other way.

There was no way a demon could come to this plane without a contract. So…?

“I’m not on someone else’s contract, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Saruhiko told him dryly, and glanced around, clicking his tongue lightly. “Can I come in? I’d rather not explain while standing on your doorstep.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that. “Yeah, right.” Yata bit back his impatience and moved aside, holding the door so that Saruhiko could step past him and remove his boots.

As soon as the door shut, he gave in to a sudden impulse and moved forward to wrap his arms around Saruhiko’s waist from behind, pressing his chest against that thin back. He lifted his face to bury his nose in the space between Saruhiko’s shoulder blades, inhaling deeply to take in the familiar scent, and mumbled, “Happy anniversary.”

Saruhiko had momentarily frozen in the unexpected hold, but relaxed almost immediately, a short contented sigh escaping him at the words. “Happy anniversary, Misaki,” he murmured, setting his hands over Yata’s arms to return the awkward embrace as best he could.

They stayed like that for another moment or two, just enjoying each other’s presence, before Yata’s curiosity got the better of him and he broke away, stepping around Saruhiko to look him properly in the face. “Okay, now spill it! How the hell are you here?”

Saruhiko shrugged, the motion seeming somehow awkward as his posture shifted slightly. It was a small change, but Yata could see a certain amount of nervous tension in the way he was standing. “Apparently we can be granted clearance to come here under certain circumstances.” He didn’t want for Yata to ask. “I’m here to propose a new contract to you.”

Something about the way he said it had a little shiver running through Yata’s body – and not an unpleasant one. Get a grip. He swallowed it back, managing to grin in response. “Oh yeah? Let’s hear it.”

“It’s not really a standard contract.” Saruhiko reached into his pocket, movements unusually sharp and jerky. “The terms are a little unusual. Technically, it doesn’t have an end date, but it’s not… exactly like before.” When he pulled his hand out, his fingers were closed around whatever he’d grabbed. “In exchange for sharing your energy, this is what I’m offering.”

His hand was noticeably unsteady when he slowly opened it, but that wasn’t what caught Yata’s immediate attention. Even before he could see what was there, the almost-forgotten sense of captured sunlight and moonlight had his breath catching in his throat sharply, recognition hitting like a truck – and when his vision caught up with his other sense, that same breath escaped him in a sudden rush.

The stones they’d charged together had been somehow shaped into solid, thick-banded rings.

How? It had been a year already, and he couldn’t imagine how they’d held their charge for so long, much less been forged so perfectly into this shape. The luster was even preserved, and he could feel the same energy…

And… they were rings, so…

So.

Yata took in another breath. “Saruhiko…”

“I made a deal with the Captain,” Saruhiko cut him off. When Yata looked up, he was met with a wary, tentative sort of gaze. “I’m guessing he planned this from the start, since his condition was for me to take on some jobs for him on this plane. If we’re contracted like this, I’ll be able to move back and forth between the two planes, which makes me a convenient resource.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s kind of irritating when you fall into his pace, but it can’t be helped. Not like I was going to turn him down.”

Yata seriously didn’t want to think about Munakata in that moment. “Right, sure, I get it,” he agreed impatiently, eyes dropping to the rings again. There was a fierce anticipation building in the pit of his belly. “What are you offering here?”

Saruhiko shifted again, if anything looking even more awkward. “The contract is in the rings,” he mumbled. “Either one of us can end it any time if we throw it away or give it back – that’s what you wanted, right?” Once again, without waiting for an answer, he added, “It’s… also what I want. To be with you.” When Yata raised his gaze again, it was in time to catch a telling hint of red spreading across Saruhiko’s pale cheeks. “If you’ll have me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Yata could feel traitorous tears welling up in his eyes, elation bubbling up through his entire body. He reached out to close his hand over Saruhiko’s, feeling the comforting glow of the rings between their fingers, and leaned in to capture a fierce kiss, pouring all of his happiness into the motion. When they broke apart, he smirked, letting his eyes go lidded. “Course I’ll have you, dumbass – why the hell else would I put up with you for a whole year?”

“Who knows.” The tremor in Saruhiko’s voice belied the mocking drawl he was trying to go for, but he smiled back, relaxing enough to lean his forehead against Yata’s and shutting his eyes to let out a shaky sigh before adding, “Maybe you’re just a masochist.”

“Pretty sure that’s you, you fucking gloomy-ass workaholic!” Yata didn’t bother holding the deep affection back from his voice; it came out throaty, but he didn’t care, staring deeply into Saruhiko’s eyes when he opened them again and feeling fierce contentment fill him. “So this… this means you’re staying, right? You’ll live here?”

“That’s the idea.” Saruhiko freed his hand and the rings, leaning back far enough to take hold of Yata’s left hand and holding the moonstone ring up between his fingers. He hesitated, watching Yata’s face keenly. “Do you accept the contract?”

He knew enough now to guess that this required a clear answer. “Yeah,” he responded seriously, returning the gaze with all the conviction he could throw into it. “I accept it, Saruhiko.”

The sensation that poured into him when the ring was slipped onto his finger was achingly familiar; Yata felt the sting of tears once again at the welcoming pulse of warmth and sunlight. There was a different energy behind it now, too – heavy and full of promise.

It matched how he was feeling right then. “Here.” Yata reached out to take the sunstone ring. “Let me.” It was given up to him without any resistance, and he picked up Saruhiko’s left hand, glancing up. “Do you? Accept it, I mean.”

Saruhiko’s eyes were half-mast; the tiny smile already on his face widened ever so slightly. “Yes, Misaki. I accept.”

When he slid the ring home, he wasn’t prepared for the sudden shift in the energy of the room – a kind of ‘click’, as if something had just fallen into place. And then alongside his own happiness, he could feel another, separate sense of joy – and something like triumph.

Yata jerked his gaze up, startled. “Wait – Saruhiko – is this…?”

The smile on Saruhiko’s face widened into a smirk. “Right, I forgot to mention,” he drawled. “Since the contract is in the rings and you happen to be wearing one, the emotion-sharing goes both ways.”

“How the hell could you forget to mention, you – ?” Yata cut off there, feeling the little trickle of smug amusement from that other source, and shook his head ruefully. Well, not like I mind. Still, it was stronger than he would’ve expected, the blend of relief and happiness and contentment. Almost overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It matched his own feelings perfectly. “Seriously, you gotta warn me about this shit!”

Saruhiko gazed at him through his lashes, that little smirk lingering on his lips. “That would’ve spoiled the surprise.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He had to admit, it was a good surprise – on top of everything else, it felt satisfying to have things go both ways between them. It would probably take a little while to get used to, but he was gonna enjoy every second. Yata grinned back. “You’re a liar, by the way. You said you’d never felt emotions like mine, remember? But yours seem just as strong to me right now!”

The sense of contentment only increased – he couldn’t tell if it was Saruhiko’s or his. Maybe both. It didn’t really matter, either way. “I learned from the best,” Saruhiko murmured, and leaned in to capture Yata’s lips again.

[ridiasfangirlings]

going off from the yata drug addict aus (specifically the one where he starts pre mk and then fushimi finds out post rok) what if F fucks up and blurts out at least hes not a druggie thug

Fushimi loves nothing more than putting his foot in his mouth and sabotaging his own happiness. Imagine this post-ROK, he and Yata are back on good terms but it’s still a bit fraught between them. On Yata’s end, he is trying to get clean now that everything’s calmed down — intellectually he knows that he doesn’t need the drugs anymore but obviously addiction brain doesn’t care about what Yata knows. Maybe he has confided in a few more people by this point because he realizes he’s gonna need some support here, Kusanagi and Anna and Kamamoto all trying to encourage him and help him beat his addiction. Fushimi knows too and for him it’s much harder, because he does want to be supportive but he has no idea what that would even look like and besides he’s dealing with his own whole mess of mental illness, he’s the last person who should be giving a vulnerable person support and he knows it. I imagine him being on edge because deep down he feels like this is his fault somehow and didn’t he break Yata after all, and does he have any right to be the one who supports Yata through this when he fucked it all up to begin with.

One day they’re spending time together and they end up getting into a fight, like Yata is still trying to get Fushimi to be honest with him about why Fushimi left Homra and Fushimi is still resisting because he can’t quite believe that Yata would accept his answer. Yata’s on edge from withdrawal so he’s also more bad-tempered than usual and he starts complaining about how Fushimi won’t be honest and can’t take care of himself and I thought you were gonna try for me now that we’ve finally made up. Fushimi gets defensive and says he can take care of himself, Yata says obviously that’s not and has never been true, and before he can stop himself Fushimi mutters that ‘at least I’m not a druggie thug.’

There’s a sudden silence, the only sound being Yata’s sharp intake of breath. Fushimi completely freezes — he knows, that he’s said something really awful here and a normal person would apologize, a normal person would take it back, but he’s not normal and he never has been and he’s just broken his precious thing again. And if he stays with Yata he’ll keep breaking it, so when Yata growls ‘get out’ Fushimi just clicks his tongue and leaves without a word. He walks out the door but then he just stands there awkwardly in the hall, twisting his fingers together, telling himself this is fine, he should leave before he hurts Misaki more. At the same time though he can’t make his legs move, can’t bring himself to leave Yata behind again.

Back in the apartment Yata just lowers his head down on the table, quietly cursing. His hands shake and what he really wants is to take something that will make all these shitty feelings go away, even though he’s been trying so hard to stop doing that. He grumbles ‘fuck it’ and goes to where he left his last stash of drugs, opening the box and just staring at them. He’s irritated and angry and everything feels awful, like he thinks everyone will be disappointed in him but they probably are already so why doesn’t he just take what will make him feel good. 

He reaches for a needle and suddenly a hand is on his wrist, and Yata looks up to see Fushimi staring at him with a complicated expression. Yata starts to say he wasn’t going to do anything but Fushimi cuts him off, looking away as he mutters ‘I’m…sorry.’ That throws Yata for a loop totally, because he can’t remember the last time he heard Fushimi say those words. Yata swallows hard and starts to apologize too but Fushimi shakes his head and says it again more forcefully ‘I’m sorry.’ Yata lets that sink in and doesn’t resist as Fushimi takes the drugs away from him. Yata sighs and says he isn’t very good at this getting clean thing, Fushimi says he backed Yata into a corner. Yata says yeah but he still needs to learn to handle this stuff without reaching for the drugs. He pauses and then asks if Fushimi will hold onto those for him — Yata trusts him, that Fushimi won’t let him slip back. Fushimi’s eyes go wide and then he nods, quietly asking if it’s okay. Yata knows he doesn’t just mean the drugs and Yata nods, putting a hand on Fushimi’s and looking him in the eye as he says ‘Yeah. We’re okay.’

[chalcanthite]

fic: it all catches up to me (all the time)

mikoto/izumo; g; ~1300 w.; ambiguously established relationship(?); set somewhere circa season one; 2nd person pov & nonsense self-indulgent catharsis or something; don’t loop the national’s new album for days on end or not-good things will happen. title and vibes stolen from guilty party which is such a them song that i’ve been quietly dying inside. | also at ao3

And it’s falling apart, all of it; you can see it before your eyes. He thinks that you can’t. Sometimes, you prefer to let him.

***

You climb the steps and find the door to Anna’s room part-way open, dim light illuminating a strip of the wooden hallway floor. Pushing past the door reveals her small frame, tucked in and fast asleep. 

Beside her, Kusanagi is nodding off in a chair too small for his lanky limbs and can’t possibly be comfortable. He’s scrunched up awkwardly with his back slumped, arms loosely crossed, as if to keep himself warm. It’s the look of someone bone-tired who finally sat down after hours on his feet and forgot how to get up again. 

(It’s the look of someone waiting.)

The sight stings somewhere below your rib cage. It’s always been difficult to put a finger on it but, here–well.

(It’s been happening more than it used to–watching the clocks at the bars strike midnight, holding your liquor, drawing it out, slow, to kill the time. 

Half past one then two and you could feel your insides twist a little with–well–there weren’t many good words for it. 

There was the knowledge that if you got back late enough, it would be after Bar Homra’s last call. It’s hard to say when this became–not easy, never easy–but, somehow, easier.)

He makes a sound when the floorboards creak beneath your feet but doesn’t move or open his eyes. 

Unthinking, you drape your coat over him and it earns you a mumbled sound, something of a “Welcome home.”

There’s another instinct that chases it, sudden and unbidden, to brush his hair away from his face, to kiss him even, except–you do neither of these things.

“If you’re staying,” you say to him, throat all too dry, “do it properly. Bed next door’s all yours.”

“And you?” he asks, around a yawn.

“There’s space downstairs.”

You’re already halfway out the door but can’t help but wince when he sounds clearer, more awake, says, decisive, “Not kicking you out of your own room.” 

(–your room, you think.

What’s mine is yours – an echo, a past life.

It didn’t used to be such a fucking mess, you think.

Three guesses as to who turned it into one, counters the voice inside your head that sounds so much like his, and you wonder if those things will ever truly be separable.)

You’re frozen, glued to your spot as he gets out of the chair, walks over, slings your coat back over your shoulder. 

“Come off it,” he says, rubbing an eye. “Gonna head home.”

And you say, “Stay,” before you can quite catch yourself.

Never mind that you hate that there has come a time when the thought even crosses you to catch yourself.

He walks you both out of Anna’s room and into yours before he says, with a twist of a smile, “That mean we’re finally gonna talk about it?”

You do not do him the disservice of playing dumb, just sit yourself on the bed and look up at the sight of him, illuminated by little more than streetlights from your window–his window, if you’re going there. His bar. His life–that you’ve kept hijacking endlessly and haven’t been able to stop. Don’t know how to stop.

“It’s half past two in the morning,” you say instead.

The scant light makes all his angles harsher, colder. He snorts a laugh, a quiet puff of air, which sounds sharper than it is, jagged, cutting through the night. “That’s mattered to you before, has it?”

“Come out with it,” you exhale, feeling the night–everything–suddenly catch up, deep in your bones. “No games under this roof. Isn’t that what you used to say?”

He falters for a moment then deflates altogether, shakes his head, lets out a breath. “Move over,” he says. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

You kick off your shoes and your jeans and your extra layers and you listen.

Your front is to his back and you know that he knows that this isn’t exactly a resolution, or even progress–whatever that means, but it’s something, easier, familiar, a language you like to pretend you can work with when words do no good.

You’ve got your arm barely touching his waist as you ask, close to his ear, “This okay?”

He leans further back into you in response, takes your forearm with his hand and pulls it around himself. A beat passes before he says, barely a whisper, “Can’t decide if I’m mad or a little glad that you feel you gotta ask.”

And it’s falling apart, all of it; you can see it before your eyes. He thinks that you can’t. Sometimes, you prefer to let him.

You want to–try to–chuckle against the back of his neck but your lungs and throat feel full of sand. You go in for a lungful of air anyway, breathing in and then out then in again, as his fingers weave through yours and tighten their hold.

You’re shaking and he’s turning and facing you, drawing you closer, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, the hand holding yours now threaded into your hair.

“Breathe,” he says, clear and steady, and breathes himself, like a mirror, like he’s done for years every time you’ve felt like crawling out of your skin and Totsuka or Anna or–you hate to think it but even Munakata–among other tangible and concrete reminders of your humanity aren’t around to keep the aura at bay.

And slowly, slowly, you come back to earth or something like it, and open your eyes to see the look in his. 

It’s a look that makes you want to recede so far into yourself that you never have to put anyone through this again, not like you have been, again and again.

“Hey,” he says, quietly, into the small space between you. “I know I’ve been giving you a hard time.”

“Don’t,” you can’t help but hiss, practically beg. On top of everything else, you cannot–will not take an apology, not from him.

And before he can say or do or hopefully even feel anything further, you kiss him, a subtle storm of apology and gratitude, perpetually belated and perpetually preemptive. Perhaps, you think, with some cruel humour, the silver lining in itself is that it won’t be for long. 

(Most of the time, it’s not death you fear. It’s the residue of all of this; it’s everything else.)   

He pulls away from you eventually, swipes quickly at his eyes and it’s too close for you to pretend not to notice. He doesn’t turn away, doesn’t try to hide it, and, maybe, a part of you is glad. 

Maybe, you need this, both of you. You’ve tiptoed too long around it, the raw ugliness of what everything has become, will continue to become, and has turned you into. Maybe, you need to see it and be it in order to exist in spite of it, for as long as the two of you will be allowed to.

“Sometimes,” you say, at last, out loud. “It’s easier, to stay away, from this, from you.”

“I know,” he says.

“It’s not because of you.”

“Liar,” he says, but not with any venom at all.

“But not why you’d think,” you amend.

“Sometimes I can’t bear to be around you either,” he admits in turn. “Sometimes, I think it would be better to leave before you get back, to get practiced in it, get used to missing you now–”

“–rather than later,” you finish for him.

“But I’m not doing that to myself tonight,” he says. 

Wish you never had to, is what you want to tell him, though it’s rather pointless and you’re well aware.

No, you think, you’re not afraid of death, not afraid of facing yours at any rate.

Still, if you could only have salvaged a life, an eternity, carved it out from another kinder dimension, and given it to him for safekeeping–

Well, sometimes, in these quiet moments, you still wish you were made up of something that could have managed that. 

[mistleto-3]

Coming To Conclusions

Misaki is in the midst of a sexuality crisis, and is further thrown for a loop when he finds out Tatara is transgender.

Pairing: Misaki/Tatara (trans male!Tatara)

 5,241 words. Fluff.

Content warning for internalised homophobia, internalised transphobia, and mentions of domestic violence. Brief mikorei mention. 

(Slightly belated) Fic for my fav ginger’s birthday. 

AO3 | Ko-Fi

When Tatara had told Misaki he’d finally found a buyer his father’s old home and would be away from the bar for a couple of days to empty the last of the things out of the house, Misaki had been quick to volunteer to help him out. He’d reasoned that Tatara wasn’t exactly strong, and Misaki didn’t know how he’d cope moving heavy boxes and bits of furniture around by himself. Izumo was too busy running the bar to help him, and Mikoto was… well, Mikoto, so Misaki had taken it upon himself. It had taken a little while to convince Tatara to accept the offer- initially he’d been insistent that he would be fine on his own, and Misaki didn’t need to trouble himself, but eventually, he gave in.

It had been somewhat surreal for Misaki to enter Tatara’s childhood home- a tiny, run-down cottage just outside of the city. It didn’t seem like the kind of place someone like Tatara would have grown up. The house was fairly sparse; most of the furniture was gone, save for some of the things Tatara hadn’t had the space to bring with him when he’d moved into his apartment in Shizume city. The only indication Tatara had lived there were the knickknacks and paraphernalia of his old hobbies that cluttered the shelves, now dusty from disuse.

The pair spent the first morning moving out the furniture- most of it was rickety and held together with wood glue and duct tape, so Misaki pulled it apart and tossed the remnants into the dumpster Tatara had hired (he had great fun wielding the axe he’d found in the shed, though Tatara couldn’t watch in fear that Misaki would accidentally chop off his own foot, or something equally silly).

By lunchtime, the house was devoid of furniture. The pair had sat in the unkempt grass of the front lawn to eat their lunch, but as they returned into the building, Tatara was stopped in his tracks by the sight of the house he’d grown up in.

“Seeing it empty is so strange.”

Now that the cosiness of the mismatched and well-used furnishings had gone, the main room looked barren and cold. The wear was easy to see- the floorboards were scratched; the paint was flaking off the window frames, and damp had begun to peel away at the faded wallpaper.

Misaki didn’t know how best to comfort him, so he simply clapped Tatara on the shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “If someone’s buyin’ it then maybe they’ll do it up and it’ll get turned into a home again.”

Tatara smiled faintly. “I don’t know why I’m getting so nostalgic all of a sudden; it’s not like I had the happiest childhood here. But it’s still strange.” Despite the nod to what seemed to be a dark chapter of his history, Tatara’s expression was as carefree as ever.

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“About it not being the happiest.”

“Ah. As you can probably tell, we didn’t have much money when I was a kid. My dad… had some troubles. Debt, that sort of thing, and my mother left him when I was younger. He tried his best, but he was absent a lot, so I ended up being here by myself most of the time.” As Tatara spoke, he wandered over to the windowsill, where some of his old things still stood. He was still smiling slightly as he talked, as though he was simply discussing the weather.

Misaki frowned, but followed him across the room. A few photographs in cheap wooden frames perched between the other keepsakes and souvenirs on the sill. Tatara picked one up, leaving in its shadow a clear spot amongst the thin film of dust that covered the rest of the surface, and he smiled fondly at the faded picture.

“I still loved my family, and I still remember the happy times. My dad wasn’t a bad person, he was just troubled. It’s sad to think of what could have been here instead of an empty room if things had gone differently,” Tatara said, and as he spoke, Misaki peered at the photograph he held in his hands. The image had been bleached by the sunlight over the years, but it still clearly depicted a man and a woman, standing with their arms around one another in what looked to be a neater version of the front of the house. The lawn wasn’t overgrown, and flowers grew in terracotta pots beneath the window and beside the doorstep. Between them stood a little girl, smiling at the camera.

“I didn’t know you had a sister?” Misaki said cautiously, looking at the child in the photo. She bore a great resemblance to Tatara, but she wore a lilac dress, and her hair was longer and tied into pigtails.

“Hm? Oh, no, I don’t.” A sheepish look crossed Tatara’s face.

“Is that like your cousin or something then?”

“No, it’s me.”

Misaki raised an eyebrow. “Why are you dressed like a girl?”

Tatara smiled shyly. “I always forget you guys don’t know… I was sort of born a girl.”

Misaki paused, his brow furrowing as he tried to process the information. He was vaguely aware of people changing gender as a concept, but if he was perfectly honest, he was totally flying blind when it came to this sort of thing. He’d heard people mention things about sex changes and transsexual people in the past, but he was dubious about how reliable the information was.

He clammed up, stuttering as he tried to come up with something appropriately supportive to say, but his attempts were thwarted by the dozens of competing thoughts that bubbled to the forefront of his mind at the revelation. He bit his tongue, holding back the questions that even he had the good sense to know were inappropriate. Now that Tatara had mentioned it, it was sort of difficult not to notice how… feminine he was. Tatara had always been effeminate, but Misaki had always put that down to just being the way he was- that and the fact that Tatara was openly queer, and it sort of showed in his mannerisms. But in the light of what Tatara had just said, Misaki couldn’t not pick up on how delicate his hands were, how narrow his shoulders…

He shook the thoughts from his head- they felt disrespectful somehow, but he wasn’t quite sure why.

“S-sorry…” he began. “I’m, uh, not super up on all this stuff…” Misaki rubbed the back of his head nervously. “S-so that makes you, tra… transsexual, right?”

Tatara chuckled gently at his bashfulness, and to Misaki’s relief he didn’t seem offended. “That’s sort of an outdated term; most people use the word ‘transgender’ now, but yes. When I was born, they thought I was a girl, but I figured out as I got older that that wasn’t right.”

Misaki nodded slowly, and apologised again. “Who else knows…?”

“I was already out as a guy full-time by the time Homra really started to form, so the only other people in Homra who know are King and Kusanagi-san. And Anna. I try to keep it quiet- it’s not actively a secret or anything, but the guys have all always known me as a man, so it’s easier just to keep it that way.”

Misaki gave another nod. “I understand… I won’t tell.”

“You don’t have to treat me any differently or anything like that. I’m just like you and the rest of the folks in Homra, just wasn’t born with the same equipment.” He paused for a moment, then smiled, leaning against the windowsill. “I can tell this has kinda thrown you for a loop, hm?”

“L-Like I said, I don’t really… know anything about all of this.”

Tatara started setting the knickknacks from the windowsill in a cardboard box as he began to explain: “I figured out when I was about nine or ten that being a girl didn’t really feel right- I didn’t like being referred to as a girl or dressing in girly clothes. It’s like… how you feel when people say your name is a girl’s name, but turned up to eleven.”

Misaki nodded slowly.

“And then I hit puberty and my body started changing to be more like a woman’s and it made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t really put together why that was until I watched a movie with a trans character in it. I was watching English language films because my hobby at that point was learning English, and there was a woman in one of the movies that was ‘born a boy,’ so to speak. And I started to wonder: if she could be a woman even though she was assigned male at birth, maybe I could be a boy. So I did some research, and here I am.”

“But like… how do you look like a dude?”

“Testosterone injections. I’ve been on them for two years now; they help to masculinise my body- changing the way I store fat, making my voice drop, making me grow a bit of facial hair, amongst other things... Well, we’re still getting there on the facial hair front,” Tatara conceded, fingering a patch of sparse peach fuzz on his jawline.

Misaki smiled a little at the self-deprecating joke. In a way, it sort of dropped it all into perspective for him- worrying about being able to grow stubble was such a normal thing for a guy to worry about (indeed, Misaki had his own insecurities around his smooth face). “That… makes sense, I think. As long as you’re happy, I guess it doesn’t matter whether the doctor said you were a boy or a girl when you popped out, right? S-sorry if I say anything dumb.”

“It’s okay- you’re learning. If you have any questions, you can ask.”

Misaki offered a weak smile. “Thanks.”

The rest of the afternoon passed mostly without incident- the pair continued packing away the keepsakes on the shelves, and by the end of the day, they’d finished emptying the house even though Tatara had predicted it would take a couple of days. Having two sets of hands made quicker work of it, even with Tatara pausing every now and again to recount some anecdote about an old hobby of his, or a childhood memory. The insight into Tatara’s youth was sort of strange for Misaki. Aside from the whole him not always having been a dude thing, it was weird to see him talk so casually about what was objectively quite a neglectful childhood. It amazed Misaki that he turned out to be the sunny person that he had, considering everything he’d been through. Especially considering that the only other neglected kid Misaki really knew was Saruhiko, whose attitude was the total opposite of Tatara’s.

But underneath that, Misaki could still feel himself seizing up. He tried to distract himself with the packing, but there was only so much of his brain he could occupy just putting stuff in boxes. He felt like an ass for it, but he could feel the anxiety he usually only got around women tying knots in the pit of his stomach. And he didn’t know why- he’d always seen Tatara as one of the guys; why should he feel any differently now? He tried to avoid his friend’s eye as he worked, chewing his lip as a wash of guilt settled over him.

And of course Tatara noticed- Tatara was the sort of person who could read people’s thoughts off them like they were typed across their foreheads.

“Yata-san, is something wrong?”

“H-hm? Oh, no, just tired I think,” he offered, attempting to give a reassuring smile.

“Well, we’re nearly done here at least,” Tatara replied, though Misaki wasn’t entirely sure he was convinced by the lie.

It wasn’t until he got home that Misaki could really reflect properly on what it was that had been bothering him all day. He kicked off his shoes, collapsing onto the couch in his apartment and staring up at the ceiling with a deep huff. He didn’t like to think about this sort of thing- in fact, he actively hated it. But he hated the idea of Tatara feeling uncomfortable even more; he didn’t want Tatara to think Misaki’s obvious awkwardness and discomfort had anything to do with him being trans.

In a rather uncomfortable recent period of self-discovery, Misaki had come to the realisation that the reason he wasn’t exactly confident around women was because he didn’t feel the way he thought he was supposed to about them. Ever since he was a kid, he’d seen men in real life and in the TV shows he watched lust over women, pursue them to the exclusion of all else, obsess over them, get in fights and fall out with their best friends over them. It seemed to be the norm to do stupid and detrimental things just to get in some girl’s pants.

And Misaki didn’t get it. He just didn’t. He didn’t get what was so great about the idea of dating a girl or kissing a girl or having sex with a girl or whatever.

And then he’d met Tatara and the pair had become close friends, and Misaki suddenly started recognising the feelings he’d heard people talk about in the past- the butterflies in your stomach, the dry throat, the daydreams, the distraction, the desire to spend time with them. Except he didn’t feel them about a girl; he felt them about Tatara. Tatara was kind and funny and gentle and beautiful and Misaki felt a sort of magnetism toward his clansman that he’d never felt toward any woman.

It had taken Misaki a long time to process the fact he thought he might be gay- even now, he hadn’t completely made peace with the fact, and he’d never breathed a word about it to anybody.

At first, he’d worried he was a misogynist, and that was why he didn’t like girls in that way. Which had made him hate himself. Ever since he’d seen the black eyes his biological father used to give his mother before they’d gotten divorced, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t be the kind of guy his dad was. Being the sort of man who respected and cared for women, the provider, the man of the house, the protector, was important to him. It had taken a while to reconcile this desire with his lack of attraction to women.

In a weird sort of way, it had helped when he started hearing rumours that Mikoto was involved with the Blue King. Mikoto was the kind of guy Misaki had always aspired to be- he was strong and brave and he protected those who couldn’t look out for themselves and he never let himself show weakness. The only depiction of gay men Misaki had ever seen before that were the stereotypical effeminate guys with lisps and feather boas, and as much as Misaki respected those people, that wasn’t what he wanted for himself. And then he’d caught Mikoto and Reisi kissing in the bar, and aside from his initial mortification, in an odd sort of way, Misaki was comforted. It was reassuring to know that someone like Mikoto could still be… well, Mikoto, and still kiss guys at the same time.

It had taken months, but Misaki had finally started to come around to the idea that he might be gay after all, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. He’d even started to fantasise about asking Tatara out, and had a plan half-formulated in his brain.

And then this happened. He’d discovered the guy he felt so strongly for had been born with what most people would deem a girl’s body, and now the parts of himself that had fought so vehemently to suppress the idea he might be gay had resurfaced with a vengeance. They told him he was wrong after all- if the guy he wanted to date wasn’t really a guy, then maybe he wasn’t really gay.

Misaki pulled the front of his beanie down over his eyes in frustration with himself, resisting the urge to pull on his own hair. If he’d heard anyone else suggest that Tatara “wasn’t really a guy” because of the way his junk looked when he was born, Misaki would have punched their lights out. He knew Tatara was a guy- he’d been a guy as long as Misaki had known him. But he was having difficulties getting those intrusive thoughts to shut the hell up.

Eventually, he managed to get them to tone down their misgendering, but he still couldn’t quite shake the thought that maybe if he was attracted to someone with what most would consider female body parts, then perhaps he wasn’t gay after all. He didn’t even know what parts Tatara had- even he had the good sense not to go asking about whether Tatara had boobs or what he had in his pants, but even the slightest prospect that Misaki might have a crush on someone with a vagina was enough to sow seeds of doubt in his head.

And Misaki could feel that doubt starting to make him act strange. His nervousness around Tatara continued to bug him, and he felt his cheeks heating up whenever he was in his vicinity. He’d also noticed himself getting more protective of his friend. Tatara’s effeminate appearance often meant that people weren’t quite sure right off the bat how to gender him, and it wasn’t uncommon for people in his vicinity to be heard whispering to one another wondering if he was a man or a woman.

Unfortunately for the whisperers, Misaki overheard some of them one day, and something just sort of snapped in him. A pair of boys from the nearby high school were walking not far behind Misaki, Tatara, and Dewa as they made their way back to the bar.

Chuckling, one of them whispered to the other: “Do you think that blond is a dude or a chick?”

Misaki normally wouldn’t have done more than shot them a glare, but this time, before he could stop himself, he whirled around and snapped at them:

“Are you an asshole or just an idiot?”

The boys looked flabbergasted for a moment, but then had the decency to mumble an apology as they hurried past, abashed.

Tatara tried to assure Misaki that it was alright- he didn’t have to defend him, but Misaki hadn’t been able to resist the urge. A part of him knew he was overcompensating for the intrusive thoughts he’d had after Tatara had first come out to him, and it only made him feel more guilty.  

Misaki could feel himself continuing to acting weird for a couple of weeks. The unwanted sexuality crisis was bad enough, but piled on top of that, his shame at the fact he was even having this crisis in the first place was eating away at him. Tatara was a man, regardless of whether he’d known that his entire life, and Misaki was attracted to him, but not to girls, and that made him gay. It was simple. So why couldn’t he shake the doubt taking root in his mind?

He was also mortifyingly aware of how observant Tatara was, and constantly convinced that his friend would pick up on his behaviour, and somehow figure out what it was that was on his mind. It’s not like it would be difficult- he’d mysteriously started acting strange right after Tatara had come out to him, and he hated the thought that Tatara would assume Misaki was uncomfortable with his gender identity.

Thankfully, he didn’t mention Misaki’s odd behaviour, and when Misaki’s birthday rolled around, he seemed as eager as ever to organise something to celebrate. Seeing as his birthday fell mid-week that year, Tatara had planned something big for the following weekend when more people would be free to attend, but he also insisted that they have a small gettogether on his actual birthday, even if most of the Homra guys wouldn’t be able to make it. Tatara had been so excited to plan it that Misaki couldn’t bring himself to decline (he felt awkward, allowing him to do all this when he was having all these shitty thoughts, even if he couldn’t control them), but he was secretly sort of reassured- at least he knew Tatara didn’t hold a grudge.

To Misaki’s relief, Tatara’s plans for his birthday itself were low-key: movies and pizza and a couple beers (the invitees were instructed not to tell Izumo that Tatara was enabling underage drinking) with the guys at Tatara’s apartment, and all Misaki had to do was show up. Unfortunately, only a few people could make it- most of the clansmen either had plans that night or work the following morning, so either couldn’t come, or could only do so for a few hours. Rikio seemed a little off all day at the bar, and predictably he texted to say he couldn’t make it as he had a stomach bug, which Misaki thought was fair enough, so at the start of the evening, aside from the host and the one celebrating his birthday, the guest list consisted of Yo, Dewa, Kosuke, and Akagi. However, most could only stay for one movie, with the exception of Yo, who left two-thirds of the way through the first film, citing a hot Tinder matchup as the reason for his premature departure.

When Misaki was left alone with Tatara, he offered to leave, not wanting to make things awkward, but there was a genuine smile on Tatara’s face as he asked him to stay.

“There are plenty of snacks left,” he joked, and Misaki gave a weak smile, settling back onto the sofa beside him.

And of course, Tatara immediately picked up on his odd demeanour. “Everything okay?” he asked casually.

“Y-yeah…” Misaki cursed himself internally for his stutter- Tatara didn’t seem too concerned before, but now he leaned forward in his seat, a crease between his eyebrows.

“You sure? You’ve been acting a little strange for a while…”

Misaki shut his eyes in embarrassment. “S-sorry…”

“Sorry? What for?”

“I’ve been acting weird since that day at your place…” he mumbled. “S-since you told me…”

“…Told you I’m trans?” Tatara offered, his tone neutral.

“Y-yeah… And I didn’t want you to think I was bein’ intolerant or anything. I’ve never seen you as anything other than a dude and that ain’t gonna change.” His voice was quiet, and though he’d opened his eyes, he kept them fixed on the coffee table. He drummed his fingers against the half-empty beer can in his hands anxiously; he didn’t really want to be having this discussion.

“I didn’t think you were being intolerant,” Tatara reassured him, and as he rested his hand comfortingly on Misaki’s shoulder, Misaki felt his heartbeat stumble in his chest. “You didn’t seem disgusted or anything like that. But I am a bit worried; what’s bothering you? Are you afraid of saying the wrong thing?”

“Y-yeah.” It was true, but only a half-truth, and Tatara obviously knew it.

“…And?”

Misaki shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I-It’s heavy, I don’t wanna be a downer.”

“You’ll probably feel better once you’ve gotten it out. I don’t mind.”

“I’ve never… talked about it before… I don’t wanna make things weird…” The words almost seemed to physically snag in Misaki’s throat.

“It won’t,” Tatara promised immediately.

Misaki screwed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “I-I sorta… had a sexuality crisis… and all the gender stuff brought it back up in my head.”

Tatara patted him on the shoulder comfortingly, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Over the past few months, I’d… I dunno, sorta figured maybe I was g-gay…” He let out a shaky breath- it was strange to hear that said aloud. “B-but it took a while to like… fully accept it, I guess. I thought you had to be like stereotypically gay, and I didn’t want to be like that. I didn’t want to have a lisp and watch crappy daytime TV and listen to Lady Gaga. So I fought really hard against the idea.”

Tatara smiled softly. “That’s okay. You don’t have to fit into society’s stereotypes to be gay; the only thing you have to do to be gay is to only be into other guys. I know it’s easy to internalise all the crap people say about queer folks, but liking other men doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

Misaki gave a weak smile. “Thanks…” Then, he sighed again, steadying himself to force out the next sentence. “I was getting pretty sure I really was… gay… especially after Mikoto-san started screwing the Blue King or whatever, like if he can kiss dudes and still be kickass then so can I…”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re starting to accept yourself. There’s nothing wrong with being gay; you’re still you, no matter who you happen to fall in love with. Am I the first person you’ve told?”

Misaki nodded. “Mm. I’ve never even said it out loud.”

“That’s okay. There’s no pressure to ‘come out’ if you don’t want to, or even to label it if you don’t want to. It’s nobody’s business but yours, and perhaps any guys you’re interested in,” he added with a grin.

“T-thanks.”

“Is there anyone you’re interested in?” Tatara asked playfully, but then he paused, examining the expression on his friend’s face. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, fine,” Misaki replied, but he spoke far too quickly.

“…Coming out wasn’t the only thing bothering you, was it?”

Misaki bit his lip. “I-I dunno if you wanna hear the other bit.”

“It’s okay, you can talk to me about anything.”

Misaki huffed a sigh, slumping back against the couch with a torn look on his face.

“I promise. No judgement.”

“Hnn… fine,” Misaki conceded, fixing his gaze on his shoelaces. “I-I thought I’d sort of come to terms with it, you know, the whole gay thing… and then you came out to me…” He paused, taking a deep breath. He didn’t dare look over at his friend. “…And all these stupid voices in my head I couldn’t get to shut up were doing some fucked up mental gymnastics to try and reason that maybe I wasn’t gay after all.”

Tatara tilted his head. “Why would that make you not gay?”

“Because… y-you’re hot, okay? It’s just an objective fact. Like, there isn’t a person alive who’s into dudes who wouldn’t be attracted to you. But these stupid voices were trying to persuade me that if you weren’t born a dude or whatever or if you have girl junk… n-not that I’m asking! Whatever’s in your pants is your business… but like… Ugh, I sound like such an asshole. I don’t know how to say it without coming off like a total douche. Like, you’re a dude, so whatever junk you have is dude junk, and I’ve never seen you as anything but a dude regardless of junk and I really need to stop talking about your junk I’m sorry…”

Tatara continued rubbing his shoulder. “Take your time.”

Misaki sighed, trying to slow down the pace of his words. “The dumb nagging voices at the back of my head were trying to twist you being trans into an excuse to say I wasn’t really gay, because I still think you’re hot even though you’re trans, and I’m pissed off at myself for trying to think that way.”

“You weren’t doing it on purpose. Like I said, it’s hard not to internalise people’s intolerance when you’re figuring yourself out. As long as it’s not really you talking, then it’s fine.”

Misaki gave a stiff nod. “T-thank you. S-sorry, I shouldn’t be making you comfort me for being like this… Y-you’ll always be a dude in my eyes and I’ll fight anyone who says you’re not.”

Tatara was quiet for a second, and Misaki finally lifted his gaze to look over at his friend, afraid he’d upset him. But to his surprise, a faint smile curled the corner of Tatara’s lips, and his cheeks were flushed.

“Totsuka-san?”

“People don’t usually question their entire sexuality just because one person they think is hot turns out not to have the junk they’re expecting them to. It usually takes a little more than that…”

Misaki opened his mouth to protest, but Tatara cut in before he had a chance.

“Yata-chan, do you have feelings for me?”

“W-what? Why would you think that?” Misaki’s heart squeezed in his chest in panic, and he could feel himself stumbling over his words.

Tatara gave him a soft smile. “I had suspicions for a while- you get this look in your eye when you look at me, but I didn’t really dare believe it…”

Misaki paused. “W-what?”

“I thought: ‘maybe it’s just wishful thinking,’ ‘maybe I’m just projecting’.”

Misaki blinked in shock, the surprise almost knocking the wind out of him- he’d forgotten to breathe for a second. He couldn’t quite allow himself to process what he thought Tatara was suggesting. The room felt sort of wobbly, as though he was dreaming.

“A-are you saying…?” Misaki didn’t quite have enough breath to finish the sentence.

But he didn’t need to. The next thing he knew, Tatara had cupped his jaw gently, and had leaned in to brush their lips together. Misaki froze on the spot, unable to do anything more than close his eyes.

Tatara pulled back, and after a moment, he chuckled. “Breathe, Yata-chan.”

Misaki nodded, finally managing to draw in a gasp of air. “Y-you…?” was all he could manage to say.

“…Like you?” Tatara finished for him, and Misaki managed another stiff nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I do. You’re handsome, and you’re really sweet beneath your hardcore exterior. After Fushimi left and we started spending more time together, I found myself really looking forward to seeing you, and getting butterflies and being self-conscious about how I looked because I wanted you to see the best side of me…” He blushed deeper as he spoke, and the sight of Tatara’s cheeks turning pink made Misaki’s chest feel funny.

He couldn’t quite summon words for a few second, and when he could, all he could think to say was: “A-am I awake?”

Tatara burst into a fit of giggles, rocking forward to bury his face in Misaki’s shoulder, almost bashfully. “You’re so cute…”

“S-shut up…”

Tatara looked up, a hopeful grin still playing across his lips. There was a playful twinkle in his eye, and Misaki didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so pretty in his life.

“So what do you say? Wanna go to dinner with me sometime?”

“I’m definitely gay,” Misaki blurted, staring at Tatara in disbelief. Now he’d finally come to that conclusion, he sort of couldn’t believe he’d ever doubted it- it seemed obvious now. He was really god damn gay and he had a big fat gay crush on his closest friend, the contents of his underwear be damned.  

Tatara giggled once more. “Is that a yes~?”

“F-fuck yes!” Misaki didn’t seem able to spit the words out fast enough, and Tatara threw his arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly with a dazzling grin.

Misaki decided this was the best birthday present he’d ever gotten.  

[evvazi]

The Goddess of Flames

My last fic for Rarepair Week, for the prompt ‘Colours/Powers’, both prompts because they’re really close together in K.

Pairing: Minoru/Anna

Word Count: 3,545

Warnings: Slight violence

Summary: Minoru gets the scare of his life when a bunch of thugs with superpowers attack him, but thankfully he is saved by a mysterious girl that he sets out to find again.

AO3

It had started as a completely normal day. Getting up early had sucked, school was as boring as ever, but at least he’d had some fun playing catch with his friends in the break and his mother’s packed lunch had been tasty as always. Even in hindsight, there was absolutely nothing that could’ve ticked him off to the fact that he’d meet a goddess today.

Minoru had just said goodbye to the last of his friends and rounded the corner to the quiet street that would lead him home when he saw something flash from the corner of his eyes. He really had no way of knowing what it was, but somehow the sickening green of it made him duck on instinct. As he saw a lightning bolt hit the garden fence next to him, he quietly thanked his reflexes and started running. Whatever this was, it was clearly dangerous and he couldn’t afford to be hit by it. That was priority number one, his brain insisted, even though he desperately wanted to turn around and see where it had come from and maybe find out why it was targeted at him in the first place.

Another bolt of lightning missed him by only a few inches and he sped up, fear now seriously creeping up from his stomach and making his throat tight. Someone or something was aiming for him specifically. And judging by the smoke coming from the spot the last shot had hit the street, he might not even survive if he couldn’t outrun it.

His breath was already coming short, but he kept sprinting as fast as he could. Just two more turns and he was home and could alert his mom to what was going on. That was his best shot. Focused as he was, Minoru noticed too late that someone jumped out from the side alley and didn’t raise his arm soon enough to completely block the baseball bat swung at him. It connected with the back of his head with a dull thud and sharp pain spread through his entire body.

He had to have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew, he was already lying on the ground and being dragged into the alley. His vision was swimming, but he could see the one who hit him wore a weird kind of mask, and so did the other two he was talking to.

“Hey man, be a bit more careful next time! Hostages are only useful if they’re alive. We wanna distract the Reds, not get them dead set on revenge again.”

Again…? Who were these ‘Reds’ and why where these people thinking he was important to them? He didn’t know anyone who’d ever been on a revenge quest that wasn’t a fictional character, and the only person he knew who died was his great-grandmother but she’d been like, really old, and died in her sleep…

Minoru was barely aware that his mind had start drifting again as he heard the sound of a car being unlocked and he figured he’d be taken away now, to some evil lair or something, but the earlier panic had yet to come back through the thick walls of fog around his brain.

Then suddenly the whole world was doused in red. Flames were licking at the walls beside him and his three kidnappers were screaming in agony, desperately trying to escape but being engulfed by the flames anyways until they fell to the ground, dead or unconscious he couldn’t tell. It was how he’d always pictured hell to be.

Yet, strangely, he didn’t feel a single ounce of fear. Maybe it was the dull memory that he’d seen a weaker version of these flames not long ago, used by his brother, but he immediately relaxed, knowing they were there to protect him.

Quiet footsteps passed by him, and the flames parted for what Minoru could only assume to be the goddess of fire. Beautiful and regal, with a dress that vaguely looked like it was made of fire too and actual fire wings, she stepped in front of him and addressed the men lying on the ground in front of her.

“Tell your King if he attempts this again, the outcome won’t be this mild. Homra isn’t known for their mercy, and I have no intention of changing that.” Her voice was quiet, but even Minoru could feel a chill running down his spine from the threat, there was no doubt she was absolutely serious.

She turned around, and Minoru only got a glimpse of the destructive fire in her eyes before her expression softened and she knelt down in front of him, stretching out a hand to gently touch his face. It was colder than Minoru had expected and his brain was so hung up on the disparity between her cold hand and the warmth in her gaze, that it took him a while to realize she’d asked him if he was alright.

“Sure,” he blurted out, trying to get up, but abruptly regretting that decision as the world began to spin and he ungraciously fell back on his butt. Okay, maybe he wasn’t alright. The guy had hit him pretty hard after all, so he could easily have a concussion.

The goddess didn’t seem to be bothered by his obvious lie, she simply slid one of his arms over her shoulders and helped him up. It was only then that he noticed she was only about as tall as he was and had a child’s face as well. Maybe she actually was around his age…? She seemed way too amazing for that. None of his classmates had that kind of grace – or that kind of power, for that matter.

Oblivious to his fascination, she simply started walking, and Minoru had to focus all his concentration on keeping up with her and not falling over his own feet.

Before he knew it, they stood in front of his house and she rang the doorbell. Now that the flames were gone, she seemed a little less like a goddess and more like a human, though she still had that otherworldly aura around her.

His mother opened the door and immediately took him into her arms, fussing over him and asking all sorts of questions he could barely keep up with, much less answer. His consciousness started fading again as the safety of his mother’s arms lulled him to sleep, but then he heard quiet footsteps walking away and jerked awake again.

“Wait,” he yelled panicked, “who are you? What’s your name? How…? Why…?” Fuzzy stars were already creeping at the edge of his vison, but he forced himself to stay awake until he heard some sort of answer.

The mysterious girl turned around, facing him again as she said, quiet and sure, just like before: “Anna.”

-

Next thing he knew, Minoru woke up in a hospital bed, unsure if all of that had actually happened or he dreamt up half of it while he was delirious. The girl existed though, he was absolutely sure about that, the memory of her way too clear to be a result of his imagination. His mother confirmed it too, though she was just as clueless as to who she was or where she went as Minoru, her focus had understandably been more on her injured son then on the girl who’d brought him home.

So, as soon as he was released from the hospital, Minoru set out to find her. He didn’t have much to go off of, but he vaguely remembered her mentioning ‘Homra’ and that was a group plenty of his classmates and people on the internet had heard rumours about. It was difficult to piece together what was the truth and what people had just made up, but apparently, it was some sort of street gang with special powers, united under some crazy strong monster who might or might not be dead by now. Well, his kidnappers had said something about revenge…

Most importantly though, the internet gave him a location: Bar Homra in Shizume. He could go look for Anna there, and thank her for saving him. Maybe even ask if she knew why he was attacked if he mustered up the courage for that. It wasn’t a given, seeing how stunned he’d been when he saw her for the first time, and Homra seemed to be full of scary people.

And possibly his brother, too. That wouldn’t be scary, but awkward. If his brother was actually some sort of gang member and didn’t just dress like one, it wasn’t something Minoru wanted to talk about with him, especially not in front of other gang members or Anna, for that matter. But the signs were impossible to ignore. Misaki had used the same powers as Anna. There were rumours about Homra’s vanguard ‘Yatagarasu’ all over the internet. And it would explain why he was attacked – Anna had seen it as an attack against Homra after all. Minoru couldn’t be sure though, and he didn’t know enough about Homra to decide whether it would be cool or disappointing if Misaki actually was a member.

There was no other choice than to go and find out. So, one afternoon after school, he gathered up his resolve and took a train to Shizume. He’d looked up Bar Homra what felt like a million times this past week, so he found it without a problem. His heart was beating like crazy in his chest, and he decided to peek through a window first before going in. Who knew what was going on in there? Minoru knew quite a few things he didn’t want to walk in on that could be happening in a bar that served as a gang’s base.

It turned out to be a good decision, because the first thing he saw was his brother, animatedly talking to the barkeeper. So he really was a member…

Anna wasn’t there, in fact, besides his brother and the barkeeper, there was only one other person inside. A guy who looked like a foreigner was sitting on a couch, not really doing anything or participating in the conversation. Just as it seemed like Misaki was about to leave, Minoru locked eyes with the foreigner and jolted away from the window, sprinting behind the next vending machine to hide himself. He barely made it in time to hear the bell as the door was opened and his brother came out, yelling “See you tomorrow then, Kusanagi-san,” before he jumped on his skateboard and drove away, thankfully not in the direction Minoru was hiding.

Now was the time to go in, he knew that. The bar would open officially soon, and it would only get harder to go I then. Plus, the foreigner had already seen him, so it would seem weird if he took too long to come back. Gulping, he abandoned his hiding place and strode towards the bar. Sure, it was a bit scary, but he really wanted to see Anna again, and this was the only hint he had.

A deep breath, and he pushed the door to the bar open and walked inside. The establishment had a nice, homey atmosphere, but Minoru couldn’t help but be intimidated anyway. The alcohol on display and elegant décor practically screamed ‘adults only’ to him, the guy on the couch fixated him with a gaze he couldn’t quite place, and the bartender seemed freakishly tall now that Minoru stood in front of him.

“We’re not open yet,” the bartender informed him, “and you look a bit young to be here for a drink anyway. Are you lost?” At least he seemed friendly, that made it easier to talk.

“Do you, by any chance, know a girl named Anna?” Now that gave him two pairs of raised eyebrows, and he knew he was at the right place. Excitement spread through his entire body at the thought that he was probably really close to finding her. These people just needed to tell him.

“Well, let’s say I do, who wants to know and why?”

Aw man… He didn’t want to answer that… Especially the ‘who’ part. That would just make things awkward. But he had a feeling if he didn’t answer, this bartender guy would just throw him out. “I’m here because I want to thank her, my name’s Minoru.” It dawned on him too late that he could have just lied, but then maybe Anna would say she didn’t know anyone with that name… Wait, did she even know his name? She knew where he lived, so it wasn’t impossible but he’d never told her.

“Ah, so you’re Yata-chan’s brother then? You just missed him.” Aw, dammit…

“He knows,” the foreign guy suddenly spoke up – in perfect Japanese – startling the crap out of Minoru, “he was looking through the window.” What an asshole. Couldn’t he have kept that to himself? Minoru threw him an angry look, but the snitch didn’t seem to care. In fact, he looked a little smug. Yeah, Minoru definitely didn’t like the guy.

“That so?” Thankfully the bartender didn’t pry any further. Him, Minoru thought he might actually end up liking if he got to know him better. “Eric, Anna’s upstairs, go and get her.”

Eric moved without comment, leaving Minoru to wonder if it meant the bartender was Kusanagi-san if he was apparently called by his first name. And then he stocked. ‘Anna’s upstairs’?! She was here? He was gonna meet her, right now? He wasn’t prepared!

“Come here,” Kusanagi-san(?) beckoned tapping lightly on the bar to get him to sit down, “you want a juice or something?”

Minoru walked on autopilot, his brain not quite caught up with reality yet. “I don’t have any money,” he answered belatedly, as it was still in the back of his mind that he needed all his money for the train ride, and he didn’t know whether he should say yes or no, both somehow seemed rude to him.

He got a glass anyway, filled with pineapple juice, his brother’s favourite. This guy was assuming too much.

“Well, you spent a week in the hospital thanks to us, I think I can afford giving you a juice on the house,” Kusanagi(?) said lightly, but then his voice turned more serious. “Honestly, I’d tell you to stay away from here, because it’s dangerous, but you already got hurt and yet here you are.” He sighed dramatically, as if he told people not to do dangerous things on a day-to-day basis and nobody ever listened to him. “It’s probably pointless.”

If Minoru had thought of an answer, it didn’t matter, because he heard soft footsteps on the stairs and his mind was wiped clean. Anna walked down the stairs with the grace of a ballet dancer, and Minoru could have sworn he saw sparks of flames dance around her, illuminating her face and giving her an otherworldly glow.

His throat suddenly felt dry and he had to swallow repeatedly, eyes glued to Anna as she walked over to him at a measured pace and slid onto the barstool beside him like it was the most normal thing in the world. She didn’t seem surprised in the least to see him.

“Minoru,” she greeted, taking a glass filled with some red liquid from the bartender. “Thank you, Izumo.” She smiled, and Izumo took that as his cue to leave them alone, though he didn’t leave the room, preparing things to open the bar. Eric was back too, in the same position on the same couch, as if he’d never moved at all. Minoru had hoped they’d leave them alone, but he guessed this was fair enough. He got to see Anna, that was all he really wanted. “What brings you here?”

Oh, right. He couldn’t just sit there and stare at her – though somehow that didn’t seem like such a bad pastime to him – he had to actually make conversation. And he did have a reason for coming, he should at least accomplish that.

“I- um, I wanted to say… Thank you for saving me!” He couldn’t really bow in his current position, but Minoru did his best to lower his head as far as he could. Anna needed to know how grateful he was for her interference. It was the first time he’d ever been afraid for his life, yet all unpleasant memories were completely overshadowed by her red, burning away Minoru’s fear along with his kidnappers, leaving nothing but pure awe in the wake of her powers.

Anna remained quiet for a while before she simply answered “You’re welcome.” There was a soft smile on her lips though when Minoru looked up again, so it couldn’t have been the entirely wrong thing to say.

“Oh, and,“ he dug into his school backpack, fishing out a box of his favourite chocolates that the store clerk had put a ribbon – red, of course, no other colour would fit her – on for him, “this is for you. I know it’s not much and I don’t know what you like, but I thought everyone likes chocolate, so… yeah.” He held the box out for her.

“Thank you.” Anna accepted the present, smiling wider than before, and… was that a blush on her cheeks? It wasn’t very pronounced, so he couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like it at least.

Minoru’s heart began beating faster at the sight and he couldn’t help but smile back at her.

There was one last thing he wanted to say though. “That fire thing you did… I have absolutely no idea how you did it, but it was by far the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! Like, fire should be scary, but all I could think was that it looked beautiful and that it was there to protect me!”

Anna’s gaze became warm at that, but there was also something else to it, a depth he couldn’t quite grasp. “Yes, I like my Red as well.” For a moment, it seemed like there was something else she wanted to say, but then she shook her head. “Is there anything cool that you can do?” she asked instead.

Him? Nothing of that calibre, definitely. But he had done quite a few ridiculous and difficult things on dares, so he lapsed into a tale of how he’d climbed out of a third-floor window of his school once when he’d been dared to stay and had been locked in the classroom. At first, he’d wondered if she’d only asked to be polite or to stir the conversation away from her powers, but she seemed genuinely amused, even if she didn’t laugh even once.

Somehow, they kept talking after that. The bar was eventually opened and they moved to one of the couches and Anna eventually opened her chocolates and tasted one, but those were the only markers that time passed. So Minoru was taken off-guard when the bartender came over in a quiet moment and asked Anna what she wanted for dinner and if Minoru was going to stay.

He looked at the clock on his PDA. 20:26. “Nooooooooo,” he exclaimed, dread settling in his stomach. It was way, way past time he should be home. And now that he thought of it, he probably smelled like alcohol and cigarettes after having spent the entire evening at a bar. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, “mom is gonna kill me.”

But he didn’t want to leave. He’d had so much fun, but he couldn’t just keep dropping by now that he didn’t have a reason anymore… And his brother might be there too. Not that he cared as much now, Homra didn’t seem to be full of terrible people after all, but still. It would be weird. Not talking to Anna anymore seemed just as horrible though.

In a flash, he pulled out a pen and a piece of paper from his backpack and scribbled his phone number on it, handing it to Anna before he could lose confidence in his idea. “I really gotta go now, but if you ever wanna hang out again, just call. Or just text if you’re bored or something! See ya!”

Anna nodded and took the piece of paper with a serious expression. “Goodbye.” Her voice was as monotone as ever, but Minoru wasn’t at all discouraged by it, Anna would call if she wanted to, and after today, he was 99% sure she did.

Then he bolted out of the door, hoping a train would come fast so his mom wouldn’t be any angrier than she needed to be.

Just before the door fell shut behind him, he could hear Eric’s voice saying “At this rate, Yata’s brother is gonna get himself laid faster than he does,” followed by a loud crash.

A blush crept up his cheeks. He wasn’t trying to get laid! That was way, way out of his league. But… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he could go somewhere with Anna, just the two of them, and then, just maybe, they could hold hands-

Minoru broke into a run, hoping it would hide why he was so flushed and breathing irregularly.

[tsubomikidos]

Every day, without fail, she was there. It was nerve-wracking, but she had persistently found herself at his side as much as she could manage. Any other guy would probably be thrilled to have such a cute girl doting on them, but for Yata, it was heart attack inducing. Sure, she was cute. She barely reached his shoulder, and she always wore cute dresses, and a flower clip in her hair as some sort of memoir, as she’d put it. He wasn’t even sure what he’d done to earn that sort of affection. 

Their first encounter had been when some guys had been hassling her. She politely evaded them, saying she was waiting for someone, but the guys wouldn’t get the hint. It was clear she was uncomfortable, and it didn’t seem like anyone else was going to come to her rescue, so he’d acted. Granted, he’d been feeling pretty pissed off anyway, so the excuse to punch someone was welcome. 

She’d been so surprised at the action--and he almost expected she’d be scared, but then she asked if he would accompany her for the day. His face had turned bright red and he’d tried to stammer out a no, but girls like that probably cried when they were told no, right? He didn’t want to make a scene, but being alone with a girl was too embarrassing for him. Yet somehow, she’d managed to rope him into it anyway.

It was awkward, and he couldn’t look at her, or even talk normally. He’d mutter something every now and then, but it didn’t seem to bother her, because she was doing most of the talking anyway. She told him that she’d come to Shizume City to take a break. Her family was hounding her with marriage interviews one after another, and she just needed to get away for a while. A small vacation. Miraculously, she’d been allowed to go. 

As their outing was coming to an end, he finally managed to ask why she’d asked him to accompany her. She’d merely smiled, almost sadly? and told him that any girl would want to be accompanied by a dashing young man who’d saved her. That had just made him turn even redder, and she’d laughed. He wouldn’t admit it, but he kind of liked the sound. 

And then the next day, she’d shown up at Homra with a homecooked lunch for him, calling him Yata-sama. It was honestly bad for his heart. And it kept going like that for days. No matter how much time she spent around him, he just couldn’t get used to her. She was just too bold. Come to think of it, why the hell was she focusing on him if she had marriage interviews?!

Even the others had gotten into it, constantly teasing him. It was irritating but even so, he just couldn’t bring himself to say no when she asked him to accompany her places. For some reason, he just...didn’t want to see her make a sad expression. 

Thus, today he’d been dragged to the aquarium, and now a little cafe he felt incredibly out of place at. He couldn’t help but fidget, wishing that if she was going to choose any place to eat, it would have been somewhere he was more comfortable. Like Homra, or a more casual restaurant. 

The orange haired girl in front of him sipped her latte, her expression unreadable as she stared at the table. “Yata-sama,” she finally began, causing him to jump, his voice cracking in response as he turned his attention to her. “Could it be that you...hate going out like this?” she asked softly, finally lifting her gaze to him.

“E-eh?” 

“Does it...” she paused and pursed her lips, as if collecting her thoughts before she continued, “could it be that...this actually annoys you? You always look uncomfortable...” He could guess what she was getting at. She was asking if he had come to hate her for doing this sort of thing, for being so pushy. 

He was caught off guard. He blinked for a moment, lips parted in surprise. How did he feel about it? Before he knew it, he’d gotten used to her being there, even if he had no idea how to handle her. It’d be weird if she wasn’t there now, showing up with her homemade lunches and asking him to eat them. She’d sit there and watch too, or she’d offer to feed him, and that was even more embarrassing. 

But he....didn’t really hate it....and it wasn’t...really annoying either. 

“N-no, I....don’t...think that at all, T-Tachibana..” he managed, glancing away and fighting the urge to tug his hat over his burning cheeks. When he looked back at her, it was almost like she was glowing. She laughed softly, her own cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. 

“I see,” she said. “That’s good. I’m so glad. I was afraid you’d say you hated it...but you’re a very kind person after all.” His heart skipped rather violently, and he honestly wished he could burn a hole in the floor and escape, but he had a feeling Marika would just find him anyway. It was kind of admirable...not that he could admit that to her face, especially not now. 

She laced her fingers and propped her chin on them, still smiling sweetly. “Very well then, Yata-sama. You should prepare yourself.” 

“H-huh?! W-why?”

“My aim is to make you fall in love with me. To accomplish that, I’ll work hard to become the woman of your dreams!”

“HAH?!” 

There was no way he could muster up the courage to tell her that she was already cute the way she was. But she seemed perfectly content with the way things were, and really, it wasn’t so bad to have a cute girl trying to get his attention, he supposed.

[ridiasfangirlings]

day of betrayal yata gets hit by a strain right before meeting w fushimi that makes him literally js not care so when the whole betrayal thing does happen he js kinda does "Ok/alright" and walks off

The mental image of Fushimi trying so hard to be edgy and dramatic during the betrayal scene while Yata’s just like ‘yeah, whatever,’ is really funny to me somehow XD I feel like this is something Yata would regret afterward though even with it not actually being his fault, like Fushimi definitely thinks Yata doesn’t care about him now. Imagine Yata all desperately trying to get ahold of Fushimi after seeing Fushimi moved stuff out of their apartment and he doesn’t even notice when this Strain that Homra’s been looking for walked right past him. The Strain decides to attack Yata while he’s distracted and then runs off, leaving Yata sitting there a little lost for a moment before shaking it off. Yata has this vague feeling like there was something he was worried about but all of a sudden it doesn’t seem important, like why was he worried in the first place, there’s nothing in the world that’s worth worrying about.

He decides to go to Homra even though he doesn’t really feel like it, he doesn’t actually feel like doing anything. Yata even runs into Fushimi without meaning to, when he sees Fushimi he’s kinda like ‘right, wasn’t I looking for him,’ but there’s this fog in his brain and he can’t bring himself to care. Fushimi though says he figured Yata was looking for him, Yata’s all I guess maybe. Fushimi immediately tosses his betrayal in Yata’s face and Yata’s like ‘Oh? Cool, I guess.’ I think Fushimi would be thrown off initially by Yata’s lack of reaction, because he was expecting one and yet here’s Yata just looking mostly bored. I could see him even escalating a little more in this scenario, like he burns off his tattoo completely and maybe even slashes it up with a knife, trying to get a rise out of Yata who’s just staring blankly at him and shrugging. Ultimately Fushimi turns in his heel and leaves, certain that Misaki really does care more about Mikoto than him and determined to find a way to make Yata keep his eyes on Fushimi the next time they meet.

Some hours later the Strain power wears off and I imagine all those emotions that were suppressed by the Strain hit Yata all at once, just imagine him falling to his knees with his hand over his mouth as the horror of watching Saruhiko hurt himself comes back to Yata all in a rush. I think he would feel even more upset in this AU because all he can think is that was the moment that maybe he could have stopped Fushimi from leaving, if only he hadn’t been an idiot and let the Strain attack him. He tries to go find Fushimi and explain things but by then Fushimi’s hair is parted to one side and all Fushimi does when he sees Yata all upset in front of him is grin, because that’s the reaction he wanted all along. Yata tries to explain about the Strain but Fushimi just throws it in his face, that he left and Yata didn’t care then so why should he care now, doesn’t he have his precious Mikoto-san and that’s clearly enough for him, why does he need to come crawling after the traitor.

[ridiasfangirlings]

similar to the worm thing- the strawberries question w yata asking fushimi

(strawberry question= guy going to pick strawberries over a fence when the farmer is there. guy=fushimi strawberries=other people fence= commitment farmer= yata)

…I had to look this up and I am very confused as to the relationship between strawberries and cheating and honestly I think Fushimi would be too XD I’m imagining Homra has been talking about this, like Chitose had a small spat with his girlfriend because he failed the test. Kamamoto tried it with Ayame and somehow passed even though he said he’d eat the strawberries (because Ayame likes him best fat and agreed he shouldn’t starve himself if he’s hungry, and he did offer to pay the farmer for them afterward). Yata doesn’t really think this makes much sense as far as proving if someone will cheat but he’s thinking about it later on when he’s with Fushimi and decides to try it out.

So he asks Fushimi, hypothetically, if you were like passing a farm and you were hungry and saw some strawberries, how high is the fence surrounding the farm. Fushimi clicks his tongue and says that’s stupid, Yata’s having a moment of huh Saruhiko passed this before Fushimi starts complaining that this question makes no sense, you didn’t give any dimensions of the field, there’s a minimum recommended height in this case would the farmer be in the regulation or is this a small local grower, he needs more details to answer a question like this. Yata gets exasperated like I’m just asking if you would steal them, Fushimi asks if these are ripe strawberries and how sweet are they, he doesn’t like super sweet things. Yata says pretend it’s something you like then, like meat or Caloriemate, and Fushimi says those don’t grow on trees idiot. 

Yata’s like okay just say it’s something you like that grows on trees, would you eat them. Fushimi asks how hungry is he, if he’s busy he won’t have time to waste eating fruit, did Yata forget to pack him a bento in this situation though really he’s worked through hunger before so he would be fine. Yata’s ready to bang his head on the wall as he’s like okay, new question, what if you did eat them how many would you eat. Fushimi asks again how hungry he is and does he like the taste, how big are these things, Yata’s like say they’re small how many do you eat. Fushimi clicks his tongue and says if he has to go to all this trouble to get them he might not want to eat them at all. Yata’s like well if you ate them and a farmer came, what would you do, and Fushimi gives a deadpan ‘show him my S4 badge and say this was a work expense.’ Yata’s like that doesn’t count, what if you’re not in uniform, Fushimi thinks about that and then he’s like ‘Stab the farmer?’. Yata’s like no, you can’t stab him, Fushimi’s all annoyed like if I can’t show my badge and I can’t stab him what am I supposed to do (I guess there’s always the chloroform, Yata would be like wait you have chloroform). 

Yata grits out so if you ate them how did they taste and how did you feel about it, Fushimi says well I guess they tasted fine or I wouldn’t have eaten them, and I’d feel full since you made me eat all this stupid fruit. Yata’s like I’m not a part of this and Fushimi says why else would he be stealing fruit then, Yata was probably hungry in this situation and made Fushimi get him strawberries. Yata has a moment of ‘so…you’d pick strawberries for me?’ and Fushimi’s like I’m not getting them for me so it would have to be for you. Yata isn’t sure if this means Fushimi passed or not, though he is pretty happy that Fushimi would be happy to commit crimes for him. 

[ridiasfangirlings]

hello!! thank u so much for ur misaru stuff, they keep me going!!! anyways i wanted to say what do u think about trans fushimi and oblivious yata? i think fushimi would think (at first) that despite his lack of knowledge yata is actually very supportive of who he is?? wow. and then he finds out that yata literally doesnt know about it even tho fushimi doesn't really try to hide it (he doesnt care+niki would still call him by his dead name and ridicule him so what put in the effort). they go to get testosterone for fushimi and yata will be like "ah yes. doing normal manly stuff for two cisgender dudes" while fushimi just stares dead into the distance. maybe while they were both in the red clan things started going south for fushimi (losing misaki+maybe others finding out about him being trans and while theyre overly supportive fushimi doesnt appreciate it) and so in the blue clan hes relieved that no one pays it any attention, not even munakata brings it up (aside from maybe one time). so he just boils with resentment and is sure that people have already outed him to misaki, meanwhile yata doesnt know ANYTHING hes just like aw man my friend left us and betrayed me for no reason. maybe after reconciling and going out on few dates and some kisses saruhiko contemplates telling him but he's kind of afraid that he'll break this fragile bond and so yata only realizes when they go to bed and he is bewildered to the point that saruhiko maybe leaves the house bc he counts it as rejection? while yata asks his friends if ur penis can fall off. sorry for the long ask!!! hope ur having a great day<3

Yata sweetie please learn to read the room XD Yata’s so bad at figuring out things that aren’t said and Fushimi is horrible at communication so I could kinda see this happening (I can also absolutely see Fushimi making all these scenarios in his head where he has to keep this secret or no one will accept him and meanwhile absolutely everyone else knows and accepts him). Like imagine in middle school Fushimi wears the boy’s school uniform and uses the boy’s bathroom, since he’s generally in there while skipping class no one really notices or confronts him over it. Plenty of people are aware that he’s ‘that girl who wears the boy’s uniform’ though, like imagine the bullies who steal his wallet also misgender him too. Yata overhears and assumes they’re calling Fushimi a girl as like a taunt about him being skinny and pretty, not that they think Fushimi actually is a girl. Fushimi never says anything to Yata about being trans but he figures Yata has to know, like that first time Yata meets Niki when he’s taking care of sick Fushimi Niki calls Fushimi a girl multiple times (I’m thinking Fushimi’s name would be the same though because if he’s picking his own new name he wouldn’t pick Saruhiko). Yata doesn’t bring it up and at the time Fushimi is grateful, thinking that Yata is accepting that Fushimi’s a boy just because Fushimi said so and no one else has acted that way towards him, and meanwhile Yata’s just like ‘even though that guy’s skinny and has super soft skin and is kinda pretty is no reason to call Saruhiko a girl.’

So then when they join Homra I imagine Fushimi being kinda self conscious about it, like another thing that makes him not fit in and he’s never sure if Misaki has told everyone or not, except of course Yata hasn’t told anyone because he doesn’t know. I feel like Mikoto would probably know somehow once Fushimi becomes a clansman and I think Totsuka would figure it out quick too, just giving Fushimi a look and smiling all ‘ah, I see,’ which just irritates Fushimi more. Totsuka maybe drops some small hints that Fushimi might want to talk to Yata and it’s not until some time after that he realizes that one, no Yata really doesn’t know, and two, Fushimi absolutely thinks Yata does (somehow I imagine the Homra trio discussing this and Kusanagi just facepalming like these kids I swear). Meanwhile Yata finds out about Fushimi taking testosterone and is super confused before deciding that well maybe Saruhiko is trying to build muscle. He mentions this to Totsuka, who suggests Yata talk to Fushimi about it seriously, like maybe there’s something Fushimi thinks you know that you don’t. Yata considers and then he realizes, so Fushimi’s taking testosterone and his dad used to call him a girl and come to think even though Yata doesn’t mind changing in the middle of the room Fushimi never has, there’s clearly only one answer: Fushimi is self conscious about having a small dick (somewhere Kusanagi facepalms again). Yata decides to talk to Fushimi about this to let him know that it’s totally cool and that’s how Fushimi finds out that no, Yata’s not super accepting Yata’s just an idiot.

At this point things are strained enough between them that Fushimi doesn’t feel comfortable telling Yata the truth, assuming he’ll be rejected anyway. When he joins S4 I imagine at some point most of the squad at least know but no one says anything and they don’t see it as a big deal, the only one who ever really mentioned it was Munakata in the context of making sure Fushimi can get all the correct meds and such. In some respects Fushimi feels more relaxed here, where everyone knows and no one cares, and at the same time he’s probably stewing that someone in Homra’s certainly already outed him to Misaki. Yata never says anything though and I could see this eating at Fushimi, like he wants to just yell it in Yata’s face so Yata will reject him and get it over with, but at the same time he’s so afraid that Yata won’t want anything to do with him that he can’t say anything.

Eventually post-ROK they reconcile and kinda start dating and Fushimi keeps pushing the thought away, telling himself that Yata must know by now so there’s no reason to tell him, still afraid that Yata might not know and that Yata will hate him if Yata ever found out. One day they’re kissing and it starts progressing, Fushimi’s so lost in the sensation that he doesn’t even think about what he’s been hiding until his shirt and pants are off and Yata suddenly falls off the bed. I feel like Yata would immediately jump to ‘wait you’re really a girl,’ the idea of Fushimi being trans never crossing his mind and he’s really more bewildered than anything, but Fushimi’s already on edge so he just mumbles ‘I’m not a girl’ as he starts grabbing his clothes to make a quick exit. Yata grabs his arm like wait you can’t just go we gotta talk about this, Fushimi mutters there isn’t anything to talk about and leaves before Yata can stop him. After this I imagine Yata returning to the bar like did any of you guys know Saruhiko might be a girl and Kusanagi is just like oh finally as he sits Yata down for a lesson on trans people (and then once he gets what’s going on Yata heads back out to find Saruhiko, because he doesn’t care about Fushimi’s gender he just wants to be with Fushimi). 

[ridiasfangirlings]

Your thoughts on Fushimi's outfit on k 7 stories when he was still with Homura? Personally I find that thing UGLY AF. Like, how dare you gora for putting that shit on him. Should've stick to that purple hoodie just like the one on manga and novel ffs

You mean the terrible pants, right? Let's talk about the terrible pants. Like...just look at these.

What the fuck is happening with those pants? Why do they have zippers where no zippers should be? Are they the kind that you unzip and turn into shorts, is Fushimi wearing the kind of pants my dad used to wear to go on vacation? And the weird....metal things, or whatever those are supposed to be at the top. In some of the official art it's clearer that they're supposed to be textured but the actual animation is colored so poorly it looks like he's wearing pants that are half-fishnet (and I remember that one official art with Homra playing pool and when the small teaser was released everyone thought he actually was wearing fishnets, honestly would have been better. At least fishnets can be stylish). There is no reason for the pants to look this way. And I think they look odd on Fushimi anyway because they're these weird baggy cargo things and he's almost always drawn wearing tighter pants, Yata is the one who wears the oversized stuff not Fushimi.

Though the rest of the outfit is just weird too. Like what is up with those random cut-out bits in the side of the shirt, are those more useless zippers (why so many zippers Saru, did you just finish playing a Final Fantasy game and got inspired). He's apparently wearing a hoodie wrapped around his waist like Yata is but for some reason he has it tied under his existing shirt instead of over so now on top of his silly pants it looks like he has a random black cover over his crotch. And the whole thing looks even weirder from the back:

Again, the poor art quality is not helping at all here, Fushimi and Yata both look like they suddenly changed into skirts or hakama or something. If it wasn't for those side cut outs the shirt wouldn't be terrible, I like the wide neck on him and I actually do like the necklace because Fushimi's been shown to wear jewelry in other media, but all together the outfit just feels so...over-designed, and not in a good way. I don't know why they didn't just go for the hoodie from the Homra official art, which feels like it would have been simpler to draw and looked more in line with casual wear that we've already seen him in.