#Yata knew he had to get this talk in early while Fushimi was still in the emotional place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neioo · 6 years ago

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Fanfic Rec! ( • ω • )

Rules I’m constraining myself to: I’ve either had to read the fic more than three times and/or have thought about it years in the future. (This means I’ll have to leave out some other fics I really enjoyed reading and thought were well written)

A bunch of different fandoms will be under the cut! (as I expose what I ship across the board too lol)

We’ll Meet Again by George deValier (usuk) (complete)

This is the first fic of george’s that I read, and I’ve read it multiple times, and it’s been integral in my shaping of characterizations within my own hetalia fics. I could include all of his works, but this one stands out the most. I also listen to the vera verse songs and get extremely nostalgic, so there’s that

WW2 AU. London pub owner Arthur Kirkland is driven to distraction by loud, brash American fighter pilot Alfred Jones. Unable to stop it, Arthur finds himself falling for Alfred’s charms… just as the pilot is preparing to leave for war.

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue… by anonymous (pruaus) (unfinished)

This fic is odd in the sense that I found it while suddenly getting on a pruaus kick, during which I followed a bunch of pruaus people on tumblr. Eventually, I would find out years later that I was going to the same college as one of these people and become friends with them. So not only does this fic have a nostalgic tie to it, I find the story brilliantly written with wonderful characterization, though it is in a weird format.

Inspired by the film 500 Days of Summer, I’d really like to see a couple meet and fall in love, but eventually one (or both) ends the relationship because they realise it’s not working/they can’t imagine spending their whole life with this person/what have you. I’d really love to see how the relationship develops, with the happy times and the eventual bad times as it falls apart, and then the hope of finding love elsewhere.

Redeemer by CocoaCoveredGods (L x Light, Mello x Matt, Mello x Light) (complete)

I can’t tell you how happy I am that I found this fic after 6 or so years. I can’t tell you how nostalgic is makes me for my death note phase, remember when I would read this in my mom’s office, minimizing the fic on a laptop I hope she never checked. The writing is phenomenal. The format on this site is wonky, but doable to read. (I’m even reformatting it myself right now). It’s mostly everything I could have wanted in a death note fic; it even inspired my own very complex death note AU back in the day. In some alternate reality, I wrote that instead of AWH. I plan to maybe make a personal paper copy for myself of this fic I love it so much. It is on the level of George’s stuff on how much it means to me.

The story takes place *after* Death Note ends, although the main characters have not died. Here the Yellowbox Warehouse is essentially the pinnacle of L's 6-year long offensive against Kira, who believes L to be dead, when he really isn't. L faked his death, and proceeded with the case behind the cover of his three top heirs, Mello, Matt and Near. Kira himself doesn't succumb to his defeat, but is instead rescued at the last moment by his nemesis lover who decides that a more apropos end to the God of the New World is not death--but redemption, in the form of a new case and a 5th so-called Kira, that L and Light must bring down together... or risk losing everything. Yes, there is actually a plot LOL Buuuut, this puppy has yaoi and pairing's aplenty. LxLight and MelloxMatt are technically the mains, but when you cut straight down to it, this is a story about Light and Mello and how they go from hate to need, from enemies to lovers, and maybe even something more...

and indeed there will be time --orginally by lawlietismyfavorite, but they have since deleted their account :’( (the fic is still on AO3, though!) (L x Light) (unfinished)

I love death note, okay? After the beautiful live action series came out (the recent japanese one not that fucking netflix shit), I felt the need to read some fanfic of the series again, and I found this. HOLY SHIT. It’s a soulmate AU that goes through the plot line of the manga/show and fuck. Light is Ace?? The writing is so good??

L is the greatest detective of not only this century, but of six centuries. And then there’s Light.

Between the Lines by Klitch (Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki) (complete)

I’ve read this fic about 5 times and have accepted it as canon for this stupid show

The first time Yata saw him the kid was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria all alone with his bought lunch spread out before him, painstakingly picking out the vegetables and stacking them according to color and size.

Picking up the Pieces by SilverThunder (Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki) (complete)

I really like K. It’s a weird show, and it has copious faults. Maybe I just really like that the characters have so much potential, and this fic (as well as the one above) truly expands on that potential. This fic is an excellent exploration of these two character’s relationships, there’s just the right amount of angst. I’ve read it multiple times.

A whole year, gone from his head just like that - and how many memories could you fit in that time, anyway? It wasn’t a question Yata thought he’d ever have to ask, but with so many things changed between Saruhiko and himself, he wasn’t about to leave it alone.

It just sucked that the new world they’d built was still so easy to break.

to be first, to be best by kittebasu (chanyeol) (iwaoi) (complete)

haikyuu!! is odd for me because I don’t care about it anymore, but I really like this fic, and I’ve read it about 5 times. The characterization is on point, and the story is extremely well written.

Hajime is apparently something of a masochist, and as he stares down at the tie-dyed AREA51 T-shirt in his hands, he thinks“I’m totally in love with this asshole, aren’t I?”

Cat's Cradle by evocates (Fujioka Haruhi/Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki) (complete)

every new years eve, since 2011, my brother and I have watched Ouran High School Host Club. for the past 4 years, I have read and re-read this fic without fail in the days after

Kyouya had been able to see the red threads between people’s fingers since the day he was born. A song of fate, and the breaking of. Tamaki was a man who could never be predictable. Vague spoilers up to Chapter 63.

"Relationship Stuff" by arokitty, Ponderess (shinara) (complete)

This fic helped me realize I was asexual. It’s beautifully written.

"Relationship stuff" — that's what Yasutomo kept calling it on the occasions we discussed how things were going between us. He never failed to say it dismissively, as if it was an annoying plague he was forced to put up with. But even when I told him that he could opt out of it at any time, he did not pull back.

[lithromantic asexual Shinkai, aromantic asexual Arakita, quasiplatonic Shinara]

You Really Ought To Know by isengard (midotaka) (complete)

I really like this ship, and out of all the fics I’ve read of it, this is the one I adore the most (obviously enough to read it three times)

The Fates have an important message for Takao Kazunari.

A Gradual Fall by grassandcitrus (originshipping) (complete)

This maybe isn’t the best written fic, but it has a lot of heart, and for a ship that there is little content for, this fic served me well. It’s hard to write a realistic pokemon AU, but this feels grounded. For whatever reason, this ship still means a lot to me, so when I get in the mood for it, I’ll re-read this fic.

Meeting Wallace turned out to be a life changing event for Steven. He realizes that pretty early on. Other things, however, come with time.

The Punchline and the Resulting Silence by youremyqueen (thiefshipping) (complete)

from the author: “so i went ahead and wrote ygotas fic because, hell, if LK can record videos in which he vocally flirts with himself while playing video games, and then write gay porn about it, I sure as hell can write gay porn about it too.” yeah.

In which Marik destroys many household appliances, Bakura naps doggedly, and they sometimes pretend - with very little success - not to be in love. (YGOTAS, thiefshipping. ridiculousness meets poeticism meets more ridiculousness.)

Six Days As Boyfriends by sitabethel (thiefshipping) (complete)

I just really like this ship and I have since I was a 14 don’t @me

In order to avoid talks of arranged marriage, Marik convinces Bakura to trick Ishizu into thinking that they're in love.

The Longest Job & The Smallest Favor by emanthony (hisoillu) (complete)

everyone in like march-ish of 2018: omg in the new update of hxh illumi says that he and hisoka are engaged!

me having watched 10 episodes of hxh 4 years ago and having a faint idea of the series: who?

me: *looks up fanfics of them*

me: *finds these two*

me: *proceeds to read them 15 times and gets obsessed with the ship*

Illumi is forced out of the Zoldyck estate and seeks a living arrangement with an associate. He's not altogether pleased with it.

Hisoka is a floor master at Heaven's Arena and has the unexpected pleasure of spending time with one of his oldest acquaintances. He doesn't share Illumi's frustrations.

///

A sequel to the Longest Job, another HisoIllu fanfiction.

Hisoka and Illumi have been living together for six months now without much trouble. But when Illumi's youngest brother goes missing, Hisoka manages to make the situation just a bit too complicated and much more fun.

Lessons in Etiquette by KnockKnockBadminton (promtis) (complete)

I knew nothing about this video game but for whatever reason decided to look up fanfic for it after seeing some fanart, and then because this one was so well written, I, again knowing absolutely knowing about this video game or the series it’s a part of, binged the entire 164k fic in like two days. I’ve also re-read it and convinced my brother to buy the video game as a result. He refers to them as the “leather boy band” and sends me updates about his play through lmao

Begins in high school. From Prompto's desire to befriend the sullen, bullied prince blooms a relationship even the Astrals themselves could not have foreseen. Basically fills in the gaps from Brotherhood to the fall of Insomnia. Some liberties taken.

say it like you mean it by spaceburgers (takuleo) (complete)

Ever since playing the video game, I loved the dynamic between these two characters, and this fic is a wonderfully crafted and fun to read AU staring both of them.

Wherein Leo is a transfer student, Takumi is overly competitive, and they're doing Romeo and Juliet (but not as the titular roles).

#the hour i spent doing this was fun c:#miscellaneous #the fandoms are uh..#hetalia. death note. k. pokemon. yowyapeda. fe fates. hxh. final fantasy.#ouran high school host club which i know that's spelled wrong #haikyuu.. kurko no basket. and yugioh.#lmao that's a mixed bag #anyway \o/ feel free to check them out but i also made this for my own reference haha

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akatsukigadaisuki · 7 years ago

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I HAVE WRITTEN A FIC

after months i finally had the motivation and energy to write a new fic!! check it out on ao3 here or click to read under the cut!!!

When Yata’s ears and cheeks turn as red as his hair, it can mean one of two things: either he’s really pissed, or really embarrassed. Today, it was the first.

“Yata-chan, try to calm down,” Kusanagi pleads, slowly growing frustrated at the continuous string of curses that had been filling his ears for the past hour.

“It’s unfair, Kusanagi-san!” Yata shouts for what seems to be the one hundredth time that afternoon. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to do anything with that damn monkey!” He hammers his fist down on the table, startling one of his fellow clan members.

Kusanagi feels stripped of his soul with each dent Yata makes in his precious bar.

"I'M NOT HELPING WITH THAT PARTY!" Yata yells even louder, when nobody says anything, only increasing his rapidly growing frustration.

“You have to. You two are the only ones who aren’t busy this weekend." Kusanagi sighs with a surprisingly calm tone, setting down the wine glass he had just finished cleaning delicately. "Christmas is in two days, can’t you lighten up?”

Before Yata can shout again, he’s held back as a small hand grabs the sleeve of the hoodie tied around his waist. He looks down and sees HOMRA’s youngest member, Anna, looking at him with her eyes shining under the dim light hanging above them. "Please, Misaki," she says softly, tightening her grip. "It won't be as bad as you think it'll be."

"But...A-Anna..." Misaki begins, before biting his lip; he knows he can't argue with her. Taking a deep breath, he looks away, staring at a streak on the floor created by his board a few days ago.

"It's our first Christmas with SCEPTER 4. Let's try to enjoy it, yeah?" Chitose brings up, holding his hands out in front of his face in case Yata decides to punch him.

But he doesn't. Instead, he shifts his gaze to Chitose for a split second before turning around, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't get why we have to celebrate with them just because..." he trails off, not knowing how to finish that statement.

"You can do it, Yata-san," Kamamoto says, trying to lift his spirits and prevent the destruction of any more furniture. "Who cares if you're working with Fushimi? Whatever you do is amazing, so make this party awesome for all of us, okay? And don't let him get all the credit for it!"

Yata's ears perk up slightly at that, slowly draining of the red color and returning to the normal soft peach. "Huh...you're right," he says. His gloomy eyes suddenly light up, and a determined smile replaces the frown on his face. "This party will be so great that everyone will remember it forever!"

"Nice one, Rikio-chan," Kusanagi whispers to him with a wink. Kamamoto chuckles modestly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"HELL YEAH! I'LL GO GET STARTED RIGHT AWAY, EVEN IF THAT LAZY MONKEY DOESN'T SHOW UP!" Yata yells with a burst of energy. He grabs his skateboard and tosses it to the floor, placing his foot on it and pushing forward. "I'll see you all later! Get prepared for the best party of your lives!"

"Well that changed his mood fast," Chitose says, blinking, once Yata's out the door.

"Thankfully, and now everything is going according to plan," Kusanagi adds with a mischievous smile. Anna reflects his expression, nodding.

"Is there something we should know about?" Kamamoto asks, confused.

"Oh, don't worry about it. You'll know soon enough," is all Kusanagi says in response to that.

Kamamoto and Chitose share a glance before turning to stare at the door through which Yata left, wondering if all of this was more than just what meets the eye.

"Tch. You're late, Misaki."

That's the first thing Yata hears when he shows up to the party hall carrying piles upon piles of decorations. He almost falls off his skateboard as he spots a familiar looking figure standing before him, leaning against the back wall with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Saru, what the hell are you doing here?" Yata exclaims, steadying himself after setting down the boxes he was carrying.

"Are you that stupid, or did you really forget that we were assigned to decorate the party for tomorrow together?" He clicks his tongue, an annoyed expression taking form on his face.

Yata's face scrunches up, like he'd just walked into a garbage dump. "Fuck you! We weren't even supposed to meet until later this evening!"

"Then why are you here?" Saruhiko asks with almost no emotion to his voice.

"I...I wanted to start early," Yata states as he kneels down to open the first box, turning his head to hide the embarrassed blush burning at the tips of his ears. He shakes out a string of lights, holding the tangled mess out in front of him. In his peripheral vision, he catches Saruhiko shifting his position, so he adds, "Also, I don't need your damn help. I can do this by myself."

Saruhiko pauses for a moment and then simply clicks his tongue, closing his eyes. "Do whatever you want, Misaki. I'll just wait until you mess up and then fix everything afterwards."

Yata resists the urge to fire something back at him. Instead, he uses his anger to pull apart the lights in a feeble attempt to untangle them. He mutters incoherent things under his breath, not handling the wires with the care he should be handling them with.

Saruhiko opens one eye when he hears a mix of grunts and bulbs clacking. "Don't be so rough, Misaki. You'll break them."

"I don't need your damn criticism," Yata says through gritted teeth, not bothering to stop pulling apart the lights as a lion would rip apart a deer. "And quit calling me by that name!"

"Why? I think it suits you rather well, Mi~sa~ki," Saruhiko says with a grin, steadying his gaze on Misaki's small, chiseled face.

At that, he's had enough. His patience never really lasted long anyway.

Yata stands up abruptly and takes a step forward to punch him, but ends up tripping over the string of lights, falling face first onto the floor. Clenching his fists, he attempts to stand up again but can only sit up awkwardly as he realizes he's tangled within all the cords.

Saruhiko laughs, his grin only growing wider. "I didn't realize you were so clumsy. Looks like you'll always be an idiot."

"Shut the hell up you bastard!" Yata yells, struggling to get out of the mess of knots. His brows are sharply furrowed, his teeth pressed so tightly together that they just might shatter. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" Saruhiko scoffs. "I didn't even touch you."

"Just fucking help me," Yata grumbles, feeling as if the world is closing in on him and eradicating his existence.

"I thought you said you didn't need my help," Saruhiko reminds him, his expression shifting to more of a serious one.

Yata looks down at the floor, because at this point, anything is better than looking at the solemn face of a traitor, a man who was once his best friend in the whole world. Normally he'd be so outspoken, shouting at anyone who dares to try and destroy his precious pride, but lately he's been finding it harder and harder to say things that came directly to his mind. Especially when it came to Saruhiko.

He expels a puff of air, hanging his head low. He thinks of Anna, who held him with a gentle yet desperate grip, telling him that this wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would be. He wanted to believe her, but so far, even after just a few minutes since arriving here, he'd only been feeling like complete shit.

Yata predicts he'll be stuck forever in this room that's suddenly become too hot, when a pair of nimble, pale hands reach towards his direction, startling him. He raises his head slowly, surprised to see Saruhiko with an annoyed expression reforming on his face, helping him out of the tangled mess of lights.

"Saruhiko...?" Yata starts.

"Don't look so depressed, stupid Misaki. It doesn't look good on you," Saruhiko says, swiftly yet carefully working his way through the knots. "What's wrong with you anyway? You seem different."

Yata looks visibly offended. "Nothing's wrong except for the fact that I'm stuck here, being forced to work together with you," he mutters. "And how would you know what I've been like, huh? It's not like you spent time with me these past few ye–"

"As much as it annoys me," Saruhiko cuts in, not wanting the conversation to head in that direction, "hearing you shout is better than this. What the hell is actually bothering you?"

The fire in Yata's irises blazes when it meets the blue in Saruhiko's eyes. "What makes you think there's more, huh? Just because you're smart and all doesn't mean you know everything!" Yata spits out in a burst of frustration. "Why the hell do you even care? It's not like you ever cared about my feelings anyway! Isn't that why you left, damn traitor?! You didn't even think about how I would feel once you were gone!"

Saruhiko's expression twists into a deeper frown, and he almost breaks the wire he's holding. In any other situation he would tease Yata, but something made his heart twist grossly, causing him to refrain from doing so. "And what about you, Misaki? Did you ever care about mine?"

A short moment of silence followed that question, and Yata stares at Saruhiko as if he couldn't recognize him. "The fuck are you talking ab–"

"Do you ever stop to think even once in your pathetic life?" Saruhiko interrupts, stopping his hands for a moment to look up into Yata's eyes.

Yata's eyes don't meet his. They're still searching his face, as if this is some complex math problem he can't seem to comprehend in the slightest.

"You're a terrible person, Misaki..." Saruhiko says softly, and Yata can now see the visible hurt in his eyes, something he didn't seem to recognize before but instantly knew that it had been there for a while.

A sudden pang attacks his heart, and the layer of pride and arrogance that Yata values so much dissipates for a moment. "Saruhiko, why didn't you tell me before?"

"That you're a horrible person? I'm sure I did tell you a couple of times," Saruhiko says with a scoff, but even Yata isn't fooled by the amusement he's trying to use to cover up the pain within.

"That's not what I mean! Why didn't you tell me how you were feeling?"

"Even if I did tell you, you'd never understand."

"Don't say that!" Yata shouts suddenly, disrupting the softness they had just a few minutes ago. "If it's you, Saruhiko, I'll do whatever it takes to understand. I want to know why you did what you did...there's no way someone I liked so much could end up being a horrible traitor!"

Saruhiko yanks apart a strand of lights that's holding Yata's arms together, setting them free. He then turns around, staring at the wall in front of him. "Shut up, Misaki."

"Saruhiko..." Yata says with desperation, pleading him with his eyes to turn around and face him.

But he doesn't. Instead, he responds with, "I can't even tell if you hate me or not. Your words confuse me."

Now it's Yata's turn to be silent. In short, he doesn't know the answer either. All he knows is that in this very moment, he can't stay mad at him. So, without giving it much thought, he closes his eyes and leans his head on Saruhiko's back, feeling as his muscles tense up upon the contact.

"Misaki, what are you–" Saruhiko begins, but Yata cuts him off.

"I shouldn't be the one saying this, or at least not the only one saying this, but I'm sorry."

He says it in such a soft manner that it takes a second for Saruhiko to register that it's his voice. He knows Yata means it, that he's genuinely sorry, but still, it only makes him angry.

"Don't play these stupid games with me, Misa–"

Before he can finish his statement, Yata's arms wrap around his torso, rendering him speechless.

"Wh-"

"Shut it, Saruhiko." Yata squeezes his eyes shut, plunging into the depths of his heart and soul. Yata's never been one to think too deeply about things. If there's anything he's realized over the years, it's that he can't stay mad at Saruhiko forever, no matter what he does. Even if it's as shitty as betraying the clan he values more than anything.

It's because of the fact that Yata Misaki simply can't focus on the bad things in life that makes this a little easier for him. He always searched for the light at the end of every dark tunnel he's ever been in, strongly believing that life was too short to think negatively about everything. Whether it's in a fight or a tough situation, Yata made sure to bask in that light instead of drowning himself in the shadows.

And now, he wanted to be the light for Saruhiko, because his best friend had been in the shadows for far too long.

Yata doesn't let go of Saruhiko, and wouldn't let go even if Saruhiko tried to pry his arms off. He holds him tighter, pulling him close until he can feel his own heartbeat resonating through his skin.

Saruhiko still can't find the words he wants–or thinks– to say. All he knows is that he doesn't want Yata to let go, ever, because he's been wanting this for so long that the fact that it was happening now made him delirious.

Shakily, he reaches down and places his hand on top of Yata's. His hands are so thin and pale compared to Yata's tanned, callous ones.

Yata's so close to him that he can feel his smile on his back, and all Saruhiko can do in that moment is smile too. A real, genuine smile, for the first time in years.

The next morning, a tired Kamamoto and Chitose enter the party hall only to find out that it hadn't been decorated in the slightest.

"Huh?!" Kamamoto screeches, staring at the bare walls. He and Chitose exchange a look, sharing the same confused expression.

Earlier, Kusanagi and Anna had called them in to check out the 'special surprise' in the party hall, but they were not expecting something like this.

"Shh! You'll wake them up!" Anna whispers, but it's loud enough so they all can hear.

"Wake who up?" Chitose asks, looking around.

She points towards the floor, and Chitose gasps.

There, in the middle of the linoleum floor, lie Saruhiko and Yata. They're huddled close together, their breathing soft and in sync. Yata's legs are wrapped in Christmas lights, his head is resting in the nook of Saruhiko's neck, and his fingers are firmly holding on to the fabric of Saruhiko's uniform. Saruhiko has his arms around Yata, holding him in a way a mother would hold her baby.

"Aren't they adorable?" Anna asks with a smile.

As Kamamoto and Chitose continue to stare at Yata and Saruhiko as if they were some rare species, Munakata Reisi walks in through the door with an elegant smirk on his face.

"Looks like our plan worked to perfection," he states proudly, pushing his glasses up with a grin.

Kusanagi mimics the gesture, a smile creeping across his face. "Oh, it sure did."

#sarumi #writing #fanfic #saruhiko x misaki #k project #misarumi #misaki x saruhiko #misaki #yata misaki #misaki yata #saruhiko fushimi #fushimi saruhiko #saruhiko #fushimi #yata #25 days christmas challenge #day 1 #ao3 #otp

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brynne-lagaao · 7 years ago

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(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Eleven

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 11/18

Rating: R18 (explicit content)

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.

A little over two weeks later, their number of charges had increased from two to… five.

It was pitiful, honestly. Not to mention frustrating. The weather had been relentless, though – for two solid weeks after the first time he brought Fushimi along for a harvest, it had either dumped rain all day or remained just cloudy enough that the sun or moon barely had a chance to peek through. It was almost like the sky was revolting against them, laughing at their helplessness in the face of its refusal to cooperate.

The past night had been the first time it had cleared up since that Sunday – and, unfortunately, that had unveiled a brand new problem.

That problem was the moon.

The last quarter moon.

With the gloomy weather, Yata hadn’t had much sense of the moon for a while, which was fine, if a little depressing. The last time they’d been out in it, the moon had been waning, which dulled the impact and made it easier to resist temptation.

This moon was waxing, and it was gonna be full soon. Which was… bad.

Time and familiarity hadn’t exactly dulled that sharp attraction he’d had to Fushimi from the start – if anything, it was worse now than it ever had been. The constant teasing didn’t help; in fact, it fueled things even more because Yata was pretty fucking sure that Fushimi was at least halfway not joking. He sometimes wondered if his own gazes were as heated and hungry as the ones he received in those moments of deliberate intensity. Every time they touched, no matter how slight or casual, the sensation was electric. They were always together, forced into proximity by the contract, and rather than easing things off due to familiarity, it felt like the tension between them heightened by the day. Things would be perfectly normal and then the slightest thing would remind him that – oh, right – sex was a thing and he kinda really wanted to do it with this guy, and his libido just wouldn’t fucking shut up.

These days, sleeping with his bedroom door shut was more about resisting temptation than any kind of self-preservation. He didn’t trust himself.

He’d been avoiding all that shit well enough, though. And then the weather had cleared...

“So…” Fushimi paused his typing, looking up from his laptop to eye Yata pointedly across the table. “Are we heading out, or are you planning to sit here and waste the whole night?”

Yata looked up from the comic he hadn’t really been reading – well, okay, he had been, but he kept losing focus and having to find his place again, so same thing – to frown back. “It’s still early.”

“The moon’s out,” Fushimi drawled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “The sooner we go, the less chance of cloud cover rolling in. Right?”

True, but… Ugh. Even just sitting there, Yata was hyper aware of the moonlight’s pull. Normally it was a good thing – energizing and pleasant – but right then it was just reminding him of a certain recent humiliation. “I get that! We’ll go in a bit, okay?”

He got a raised eyebrow in response. “If this is about last night – ”

“Shut up about last night,” Yata cut him off, frown deepening to a scowl.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” he muttered, his eyes sharp as he watched Yata from across the table. “The only one who saw it was me. Do I have to remind you that I really don’t care?”

“That’s not the point!” Yata slammed the comic down, glaring back at him. “It’s…” He scowled, unable to come up with a good way to explain his feelings, and reached up to scratch the back of his head with agitation.

His pride had taken a hit, that was all. And yeah, it really did matter that Fushimi was the one to see it. It mattered because he’d been talking to Fushimi, not about anything sexual, but his eyes kept catching on the motions of those thin lips and the moonlight was accentuating all of his feelings, attraction and lust more than anything. He’d been so caught up in the pleasant urges swarming his body that he hadn’t even noticed their outward effect until Fushimi had looked down, lowered his lids, and offered that deadly little smirk of his.

“Not bad.”

Just remembering it had his face burning. Yata looked away, letting out a sharp ‘ch’ through the side of his mouth. He’d popped awkward boners before, but usually with his shirt on or at least some other way to hide it. And not with the cause staring right at it!

Fucking humiliating, no matter how he looked at it.

And it got even worse when he’d jerked off in the shower later. He was already having to do that every night without fail, just to relieve some of the tension that had built up, but this time he couldn’t get that look or that smirk out of his head. He hit orgasm right as Fushimi’s voice played over in his head, low and throaty and promising, and spent the next several minutes standing there in the lukewarm spray feeling physically satiated and mentally wishing fervently for death.

He was pretty sure Fushimi knew some of it – hard to hide much from him, considering their situation – but they hadn’t exactly talked about it. He’d avoided Fushimi’s gaze entirely when he’d left the bathroom and ducked immediately into his bedroom instead, closing the door. The subject hadn’t been raised at all the next morning, and they’d gone about their day as if it had never happened, even completing the third charge on the moonstone with little to no awkwardness.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy to block it out of his head.

“It’s… what?” Fushimi challenged when the silence stretched out, still with that drawling tone.

Seriously, fuck this. Yata deliberately braced his hand on the table, pushing himself up with force. “Never mind,” he snapped back, bruised pride making him tense and irritable. He deliberately avoided meeting Fushimi’s gaze. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Finally.”

It was hard not to be aware of those eyes on him as he pulled off his shirt – even harder to avoid it when casting the invisibility spell. When he took off, it was without warning, climbing over the railing just outside his apartment and jumping off recklessly. The momentum and the rush helped enormously to push that frustrating embarrassment aside.

This whole situation sucked, but at least he had some outlets.

Landing on the spot they’d discovered the previous night – a school rooftop – brought it all back again, unfortunately. The strength of the moon’s energy washed over him the instant he landed, pleasant and seductive all at once. He had to take a moment to shut his eyes, bracing himself.

If only it wasn’t so damn good…

Fushimi landed only a few minutes later, and Yata hastily retracted his wings, fumbling to pull his shirt on again. He felt way too nervous about all the exposed skin, and at least this way he’d have some sort of shield if there was a repeat of last night.

It seemed like he was the only one reacting to that awkward mood – at least on the outside – because Fushimi immediately busied himself with pulling the sunstone from his pocket and holding it out. Even before looking up, Yata could catch the sense of it beginning its sluggish absorption. It was a nice distraction, actually; they had an actual reason for being out other than just getting emotionally jerked off by moonlight.

Not that he really wanted to think about being jerked off right at that moment…

“Are you going to stand there the whole time?” Fushimi asked drily, cutting into that thought. When Yata turned, he found that Fushimi had sat with his back against the wall that lined the roof they were on, leaning against it casually as he rested his arm on his knee, palm up with the stone charging.

Somehow, it felt kinda like they were kids sneaking in outside school hours. Not that Yata had done much of that – he hadn’t had any really close friends in school – but it felt weirdly nostalgic all the same. Enough that he felt able to nudge aside some of that mood from earlier and relax enough to walk over slump down roughly a short distance away. “Right, sorry. I’m good.”

“I’m not sure why you’re apologizing to me.” Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. “But if it makes you feel better, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata shrugged that off, avoiding turning his head to look fully at Fushimi. His goal was to keep his mind off of the tantalizing pull of the moonlight, and if he kept focusing on unrelated stuff, that’d probably be easier. Hopefully. “It’s a habit.”

Fushimi snorted. “Not that I’ve noticed, it isn’t.”

“Yeah, well.” Yata shrugged. “No reason for me to wanna apologize to you most of the time.”

He got a small, amused hum in response. “And yet, here we are.”

“Hey, I said most of the time.” He barely stopped himself from glancing over with a quick grin. Right. No looking right now. “Gimme a break here.”

“Which is why I wouldn’t call it a habit,” Fushimi responded without missing a beat. His voice was amused but lacking any kind of mockery when he added, “This is such a stupid conversation.”

“You started it,” Yata shot back, but his own grin was widening; he couldn’t help but agree.

Since when did we start chatting about dumb things like this? Casual things. Lightly bantering with no intention of winning arguments. Commenting about the smallest stuff and being able to engage with each other over it.

It was… surprisingly easy.

Fushimi offered an amused huff, but didn’t take the bait, instead falling silent. Yata let that quiet spread between them instead of trying to break it himself, leaning his head back against the wall behind him and letting his gaze settle somewhere around the door that led into the school to avoid fixing it on either Fushimi or the moon.

It felt kinda nice, just sitting together in companionable silence; if he wasn’t hyper aware of the moonlight sinking in under his skin and trying to light up his nerves, he probably would’ve enjoyed it. There wasn’t a need to say or do anything in particular; just the act of being there, the two of them in a quiet, empty world, was enough to keep any kind of loneliness at bay.

Which was… weird. It wasn’t always like this. Fushimi was always there, which was nice in some ways – not feeling lonely any more, for one – but it was seriously too much sometimes too. There were times he would’ve liked a break that wasn’t spent hiding in his bathroom or bedroom. Or just to be able to go places by himself. And with all the complaints and the grumbling, he was pretty sure Fushimi felt the same way. But on the other hand, there were moments like this, where he was just glad for the company, quiet or not.

Seriously, how long had it been since the silence between them felt comfortable rather than awkward? He couldn’t place the exact point when the change had happened.

In a way, that was kind of unnerving, but also somehow… not bad.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there letting his thoughts wander before Fushimi spoke again. “How much longer do you think this will be?”

It was a pretty common question when they were at this. Yata turned without thinking. “Let’s see…” He reached out immediately to touch the stone, realization only just hitting as he felt the hint of warmth against his side that he’d shifted into Fushimi’s personal space. Immediately, he found himself glancing up, pin-pricks of surprise scattering across his skin as those devastating eyes met his, dark and glittering in the pale light.

Desire stirred in the pit of Yata’s belly, slow and seductive but heightened by the moon’s energy to something more like a physical ache. He was close enough that he could’ve reached up to touch that fine-boned face without straining himself if he wanted to.

And, oh yeah, he wanted to. The pads of his fingers tingled at the thought of running brushing them over Fushimi’s skin, maybe letting his thumb trail deliberately across the corner of those thin lips…

Shit. Clamping down on that thought, Yata hastily shuffled back to his original spot, heart racing and cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment as he deliberately turned his gaze in front of him again. “It… yeah, it, uh, it’ll probably be done soon – like maybe a few minutes or, I dunno – ”

Fushimi clicked his tongue sharply, interrupting that useless stream of words. When he spoke again, it was in a low mumble. “Are you really that determined not to get another boner in front of me?”

Yata gaped at him, momentarily stunned by the unexpected bluntness of that question. “… eh?” was about all he could manage after the initial awkward moments of speechlessness.

Did he seriously just ask…?

“I’m not really sure why we’re playing this game in the first place,” Fushimi continued, his tone that mix of unconcerned and superior that tended to drive Yata up the wall. “I can feel your emotions, so it’s not like you’re hiding anything. And it’s not like I’ve never seen another man’s erect – ”

“Stop right there!” Yata blurted the words without even thinking, too mortified by this frank conversation to let it go on. “Look, fine, okay, you’ve seen some boners. Great. I’m happy for you, or something.” He heaved an agitated breath, glaring at Fushimi to cover his fit of nerves. “But do we seriously have to fucking talk about this? It was embarrassing!”

Fushimi stared back at him with unimpressed eyes. “It’s only embarrassing because you fight with yourself so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s like you constantly expect to be judged or to have some kind of ‘tough guy’ points taken away from you for your preferences. Or even your name, for that matter.” He clicked his tongue again. “Anyone who’s going to judge you on those things is worthless, so what’s the point of trying to impress them?”

Once again, Yata found himself caught speechless. He guessed all that? This was stuff he’d spent years coming to terms with, painstakingly identifying each long-held assumption and prying them loose from actual facts. For it to be summed up and stated so casually… It was jarring.

Hastily gathering his wits, Yata managed to resume his glare. “Oi… I never asked you to pull some psychology bullshit on me! Don’t just run your mouth off about shit you don’t know anything about!”

“I don’t know anything, huh?” Fushimi raised his other eyebrow, voice drawing out into a drawl. “I’ve spent nearly a month in your head, so maybe I know more than you think.” He lowered his eyebrows, letting his lids go heavy. “Let me take a guess at why you get so embarrassed whenever sex comes up: it’s because you prefer to bottom. Maybe not all the time, but most of the time. And you assume anyone who finds out is going to make some kind of assumptions about you because of it. Am I right?”

The shock that struck him at that was accompanied by a rush of sudden and fierce embarrassment. Yata floundered for a moment. “Wait – how…?”

“You’re easy to read when it comes to this.” The corners of Fushimi’s mouth edged up just slightly, almost lazily. By contrast, his eyes were intent. “You admit to being gay, but you’re still ridiculously defensive about anything sex-related – the same way you are with your name. It only gets worse when the hints are more direct; the backlash I get from you makes it pretty obvious it bothers you.” He tipped his head forward, lashes veiling his eyes again. “It’s pointless, by the way. That kind of stuff doesn’t mean anything outside the bedroom.”

An unexpected little surge of surprised gratification at the last bit cut into his irritation with the rest; Yata did his best to push it down, determined not to stand down. “I know that already,” he gritted out in response, scowling back. The combination of Fushimi’s tone, expression, and intensity were awakening that halfway-stifled arousal within his body again, which was frustrating on top of everything but couldn’t be helped. “I already figured most of this shit out. I’m working on it, not that it’s any of your business.” He let out his breath sharply and muttered, “Not like I wanna share this crap with every asshole who blows into my life.”

Fushimi made a small, amused-sounding huff. “You’re already sharing most of it with me, whether you want to or not. That’s beside the point, though.” His eyes were still sharp on Yata’s face. “You know as well as I do that a girly name doesn't make you feminine somehow, magically. And you don't morph into some stereotype just for enjoying being fucked.” He made a derisive noise. “Anyone who thinks otherwise isn't worth your time; you're better off weeding them out quickly.”

It still wasn't anything Yata hadn't worked out for himself – and hard as hell to put into practice; he didn't need asshole strangers judging him. But hearing Fushimi say it… It changed things. Some small, defensive reflex he hadn’t realized he’d been engaging released its hold with those words, a rush of relief surprising him with its intensity. It struck him then that he’d been cagey about those things deliberately from the start: on the defense over his name even when Fushimi hadn’t made any comment about it outside of Yata’s own reactions, and fiercely embarrassed by his own lustful fantasies. He’d expected Fushimi to judge him; to act smug and assume he’d scored a point of superiority because Yata wanted – really badly wanted – to be fucked by him.

But that had just been his assumption, based on his own prejudice and the last dregs of stubborn internal shame he couldn’t seem to shake. As usual.

That was still sinking in when Fushimi let out a huff of breath, partly amused and partly resigned. “You're so single-minded,” he murmured, eyes going lidded again as his lips quirked up. “How long were you planning to pretend I can’t feel everything you do when you get all worked up?”

That fucking expression… And the heat in his gaze… Damnit. Yata clenched his teeth harder against the pleasant shiver he couldn’t manage to repress.

Fushimi didn’t even wait for him to collect himself, drawling out, “It’s not like I mind it.” His little smirk widened further. “You should know that much by now.”

Fuck. This was getting dangerous. Yeah, of course he knew that Fushimi didn’t mind this attraction – that he’d encourage it, even – but that didn’t mean… it didn’t mean he had to… that they had to…

With the light of the moon washing over him encouragingly and his body starting to buzz with want, it was hard as hell to figure out where that thought was going. Yata swallowed despite the fact that his mouth felt suddenly dry. Fushimi looked so good, sounded even better, and it would probably be amazing to touch him. To feel that smooth skin under his hands and Fushimi’s slender fingers on his body…

Knowing that Fushimi had figured him out, and didn’t care – didn’t think of him or treat him any different…

It meant a lot. Everything. Like something within him had snapped. Yata felt loose… free, in a sense.

Every inch of him was thrumming with desire – with pleasure, the way the moonlight sank into his skin and heightened every little sensation. He was moving before he was properly aware of it, shifting closer to Fushimi, the warmth between their bodies lighting his senses on fire as his eyes honed on that deadly smile… those lips that looked so tantalizing, so kissable…

The stone in Fushimi’s hand abruptly seemed to trill, like an alarm going off, and Yata stilled, the reality of their present situation washing over him again like ice water cooling the heated moment. He was mere inches from Fushimi’s face, close enough to feel the ghost of his breath, and he couldn’t even remember leaning in that far.

Shit…

“Uh… yeah…” Pulling back and turning his head, he cleared his throat in an attempt to recover some of his equilibrium. “That. The… stone. Y’know…”

Fushimi sighed. “I know.” His voice had gone flat, but he obligingly closed his fingers around the sunstone, clicking his tongue maybe a bit more harshly than usual. “It’s fine – I’ve got it.”

Restlessness was already surging through Yata’s veins, mingling with the remaining desire that he wasn’t going to be able to shake. Maybe it was the resignation in Fushimi’s tone – or maybe the moonlight had really gotten to him. But whatever it was, he couldn’t stand to just sit there and waffle over this whole thing.

What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He wasn’t this indecisive normally.

Forget this. Pushing himself abruptly to his feet, Yata reached up to pull his shirt off, ignoring the fact that it left the tent in his shorts totally exposed.

Fushimi was right about that – who fucking cared? Who the hell did he think he was fooling?

Only himself, obviously.

When he glanced over, Fushimi was hastily pushing himself up as well, staring at Yata in perplexity. “What are you doing?”

There was an obvious bulge in the front of his pants as well, Yata couldn’t help but notice. Maybe it had been there last night too and he was just so wrapped up in his own insecurity that he hadn’t bothered to look. The thought – and the clear reality in front of him – sent another lustful little shudder through his body.

Nice…

Shrugging that aside, Yata grinned back, tucking his shirt into his pants and drawing out his wings smoothly. “Gonna take a flight.” He met Fushimi’s narrowing eyes with a heated look of his own. “We never did race, huh? Well, try and catch me – if you think you can.”

Without leaving any time for a reaction, he raised his wings and brought them down hard to push himself up and gain altitude, flapping quickly a few times to put distance between them and gain momentum.

Honestly, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing – this was just blindly following his instincts, caving in to that restless energy that it felt like his body couldn’t contain. With the moon’s light beating down on him, refreshing all of the pleasant feelings that coursed through his veins, he couldn’t resist the urge to laugh out loud.

This is seriously the best! He hadn’t felt this good – this free – in a long time.

Who cared about any of that small stuff, anyway?

That Fushimi was following right after him, he didn’t doubt. Not only because of the contract, either. In the time they’d known each other, he’d learned a thing or two. Fushimi couldn’t resist a challenge any more than he could, even if he reacted differently to it. And he was relentless when he set his mind to something. Which was… an enticing thought. In more ways than one.

Without noticing, he’d somehow aimed for his own apartment. With adrenaline still lighting his nerves on fire, Yata landed clumsily in front of his door, drawing in his wings as he fumbled with the lock and burst through – not even bothering to lose his shoes as he stumbled into the kitchen. Another breathless laugh bubbled up at the back of his throat and he braced himself on the counter with both hands, leaning forward heavily as he collected himself.

Except that there wasn’t going to be time for that.

A warm body pressed against his from behind before he could begin to sort out his thoughts, hands settling on his hips. “Caught you,” Fushimi drawled, his mouth so close to Yata’s ear that the heat of his breath teased at it.

The shiver that ran through Yata in response was involuntary but not unwelcome. Through the fog of desire clouding his brain, he recognized that Fushimi’s hold wasn’t exactly restrictive. If he wanted to, he could break free pretty easily.

If he wanted to…

The acceptance that had him tilting his head to the side to allow access must have been processed by Fushimi in the exact same moment, because he let out a shuddery breath, burying his face in the crook of Yata’s neck as his hands slid around to fumble with the fastening of his shorts.

Fuck. This was really happening. Yata bit back what was probably an embarrassing noise, reaching up to blindly brush his fingers against the side of Fushimi’s jaw. The skin held the very faint prickle of stubble, but it was mostly smooth and slightly clammy from the earlier exertion. When he moved his hand back and brushed Fushimi’s hair, it was softer than he’d expected.

Feels nice…

Fushimi had made quick work of his shorts, sliding them down off of Yata’s hips once the fly was open. One of his hands reached immediately down to cup the aching bulge in Yata’s underwear through the fabric, giving it a little squeeze.

The initial contact was like lightning. Yata couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him, fingers curling against Fushimi face. His other hand gripped the edge of the counter as sensation coursed through him.

He could feel as much as hear the pleased answering hum against his neck. Fushimi’s other hand rested on his abdomen, pulling him back so their bodies were flush. The feeling of warm, bare skin and the light echo of Fushimi’s heartbeat against his back had another shudder wracking his body, an involuntary sound escaping him as Fushimi thumbed the wet spot at the head of his dick. The unmistakable press of something hot and hard against his lower back fed into the pleasure, his muscles tensing with anticipation.

Fucking good, and they’d barely started.

The pressure on his dick was short-lived; those graceful fingers slid free, gripping the elastic of his underwear in order to drag it down over and below his erection, leaving it gathered at the top of his thighs. Yata shifted to make it easier, deliberately leaning forward against the counter to lift his ass and press it back against Fushimi's body.

He could feel the sharp inhalation against his neck, but more than that, his attention was on the unmistakable press of skin against skin – the slick, hot glide of Fushimi’s cock against the crack of his ass. It drew another involuntary noise from his throat even before Fushimi’s hand was on him again, his skin prickling with pleasure and anticipation as fantasies started to form sharply in his mind.

It was almost possible to feel it: that hard length pressing inside him, stretching him out, hitting all those points that begged to be stimulated... Yata bit his lip, failing to suppress a moan as Fushimi’s fingers curled around him again, the stark relief of pressure on his dick hitting him even harder with the possibilities so clear in his mind. Fuck, he wanted it. He wanted to see what Fushimi’s face looked like in pleasure, to hear all the sounds he was suppressing now, to feel their bodies join.

It wasn't happening now, that much was for sure; there wasn't time for any kind of prep with their current pace. He could already feel the world around him starting to melt as sensation and urgency overtook him; the quickening of Fushimi's breath and the jerkiness of his motions signaled that he was at a similar point.

This is gonna be fast... No helping it, though. He was so wound up he couldn't have held back if he wanted to.

Those longer fingers cupped Yata's balls, squeezing lightly and causing him to jerk at the influx of pleasure. He couldn't help the little “ah” that escaped him, followed by a gasp as Fushimi slid his hand up and gripped the base of his dick, finally giving it a firm, practiced stroke and deftly thumbing the tip. At the same time, he thrust against Yata's backside, his own hot erection sliding into the cleft and generating slick friction.

Oh, fuck... The length of Fushimi's dick brushed dangerously close to his entrance, causing Yata to twitch and groan, body tensing at the dual stimulation from that and the hand working his cock over. Fushimi let out another of those appealing little whines, bending forward to press closer to him again. “Misaki,” he breathed against Yata’s neck, sounding almost desperate.

His first name had never sounded so amazing. Yata was unprepared for the extra surge of arousal it sent through him. Damn…

His thoughts were splintering, all of his focus going to the points where their bodies touched. He could feel Fushimi’s breath hot and frenzied against his neck, tiny little moans escaping as he began to thrust in earnest, chasing his own pleasure even as his hand began to move in tandem.

It was too much – too good. Yata felt the telltale urgency building fast in his gut and didn't even bother to fight it, reaching back again to clench his fingers in Fushimi’s hair as he approached his climax, thrusting as much as he was able to against that devilish double hold.

When he reached the peak, it was explosive; shuddering pleasure wracked his body and he didn't bother to hold in the cry that escaped him, releasing into Fushimi’s hand and clenching back instinctively against his dick. Through the rush of mindless relief, he felt the vibration of Fushimi’s answering moan just before teeth clamped hard on his neck, drawing out the moment with a mix of pleasure and pain.

Shit... shit... Yata could barely think. He leaned heavily against the counter, panting, as his body processed the additional stimulation.

It was only a few more thrusts before he felt Fushimi follow, thin body trembling violently as his cock twitched, spilling onto Yata’s lower back. It was deliciously erotic to feel that release against him; Yata had another helpless, pleasant shiver overtake him in the aftermath. Fushimi let out a low whimper against his neck, mouth hot and wet against the sting of the bite he'd inflicted.

There was a short pause while they caught their breath and came down from the high.

In the immediate aftermath, Fushimi slumped over him, almost going boneless against Yata’s back as his cock started to soften. His fingers slid free, both hands hovering kind of awkwardly around Yata’s hips as if hesitant to wrap around him.

It was… strangely nice. The hint of vulnerability was endearing. Yata couldn’t help but smile slightly, deliberately sliding his fingers free of Fushimi’s hair and flexing them to ease the stiffness.

It was kinda weird… He’d just given into the impulse and hadn’t considered a lot of things. Like they weren’t exactly safe; Fushimi’s dick had been all over his ass without a damn condom or anything. As much as he was pretty sure he wasn’t gonna get any kinda STD, it was way more careless than he usually was with this shit. He’d never lost his head so much that he hadn’t even considered it. And they’d done it in the kitchen, which was sorta gross – normally he wouldn’t wanna fuck anywhere near where he did his food prep and casting. Plus, Fushimi was still kind of an asshole and they hadn’t even confirmed that they were friends really, much less… this. Whatever it was.

But despite all of that – all the really good reasons why this was probably a huge mistake – he couldn’t bring himself to feel any kind of regret.

That had just been… well… damn good. Worth it.

As if sensing the good mood and determined to spoil it, Fushimi pulled back languidly, letting out a long breath as he separated them. “What kind of foreplay was that? ‘Come and catch me’ – really?”

“Heh.” The smile grew to a grin. Yata reached down to pull up his underwear, grimacing a little as he pieced his clothing together over his gross, sticky skin. It would’ve felt too weird to stay naked until he could clean himself off privately at that point, though, so he’d have to put up with it. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Anything would’ve worked by that point.” Fushimi’s voice was back to that drawl again, but there was a note of satisfaction in it. He offered what looked like an honest smile when Yata turned to meet his gaze, eyes glittering in the dim light behind his glasses. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata shook his head, letting out a rueful huff and reaching up to rub at the sore point on his neck. “You really do bite, huh?”

Fushimi lowered his eyelids. He’d fixed his pants but not bothered to cover his bare torso, and Yata felt a certain appreciation – not just for the view, but also for the fact that he didn’t have to be half-naked on his own right after they’d got each other off. “You didn’t seem to mind,” he murmured.

Fuck. That tone and gaze combination were still as dangerous as ever. In his relaxed state, though, Yata found himself going heavy lidded in response, grin widening into a smirk. “Didn’t say I did.”

That seemed to click; at least, he instinctively thought they had a moment of understanding with the way something shifted in the gaze that met his. Then Fushimi shut his eyes, letting out a soft, amused huff. “We should clean up.”

“Right.” It wasn’t too jarring to break out of that mood. And his skin felt gross, so yeah, he definitely wanted to clean it. Yata shrugged off the weariness that had started to weigh on him with his orgasm. “I’ll shower first.”

“You’re not a very good host.”

“Screw you – I’m the one with your jizz on my back. You can fucking wait.”

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time…”

“That was in the moment, dumbass!”

It wasn’t so bad, Yata figured, bantering lightly with Fushimi as he grabbed his clothes. Things weren’t awkward or anything, even after they’d fucked. He felt sorta optimistic about the situation – satisfied with the way things had been left with that amazing orgasm out of the way. Now they’d done it, so that was that.

Maybe now things will cool off between us for a while, huh?

#k #sarumi #yata misaki #fushimi saruhiko #fanfic #fanfic:mine

2 notes · View notes

sonneka · 8 years ago

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Number 1 for sarumi? 😅😅

This one is pretty late too, sorry!! Oh, but I had fun writing it :’3

#1 Can You Please Come And Get Me?

“Can you please come and get me?” The redhead didn’t give him the time to think. Seriously, rainy days may make hisbrain go off or something like that. Because it wasn’t proper of him to fail that much.

“G-Get you?” now that Fushimi was remembering what he said, it actuallysounded even more stupid. At leastthey were talking by phone, it would have been even more embarrassing havingYata just in front of him.

“Just come to pick me up, idiot.” His voice sounded tired, because hereally was. “And I won’t go back by walking, so use that ‘amazing’ brain ofyours to think of something else.”

He wasoutside, under the Scepter 4 entrance’s ceiling. The sound of rain falling thatcould be relaxing for some people, just was getting Fushimi on his nerves. Andnot only rain… thunders and lightnings too!

What a niceevening.

It all hadstarted an hour ago. It was around six in the afternoon, but darkness waspretty palpable. And since it was summer, nights shouldn’t arrive early. So, infact, there was something wrong with the weather.

Fushimiwasn’t even paying attention to the window, but he started hearing raindropsfalling and he still thought it wasn’t a big problem either.

A few minuteslater, Akiyama asked politely if he wanted to head back home in one of theScepter 4 trucks, but Fushimi declined.

So now it wasall his fault, wasn’t it?

He’d thoughtthat maybe the rain would stop or become a simple drizzle. But the more hethought about that, the faster raindrops fell. So, in the end, he had to giveup when Munakata approached him and ordered him to leave the building.

It wassomething he agreed to before, to be honest. Yata hated when he came back homelate because of his work and Munakata, who didn’t have anything better to dothan getting to know other people’s lives, suggested it was going to be anorder for him not to surpass his limits at working.

So there hewas, at the Scepter 4’s entrance hall, hearing how the rain was even worse thanwhat he was thinking at first…

Hisapartment, the one he shared with Yata, was pretty far from there. Walkingwasn’t an option, not only because it would be annoying to get all wet, nutbecause Yata would start with his discourse of “you’ll get sick, idiot” andit’d be pretty troublesome for Fushimi.

He didn’tlike blaming himself, but this time…

“I got it, Saru, don’t need to be sarcastic.” If he didn’t have hissarcasm to make Yata mad, what did he have left? “And the only idiot here is you. I told you to take anumbrella with you to work this morning! Why don’t you listen to me at leastonce?”

“Misaki, thisis the first time your ‘predictions’ are correct, that doesn’t mean I have tobelieve in everything you say,” Fushimi smiled and rolled his eyes. The lastthing he wanted was Yata being cocky just because he won this time.

“Shutup! Do you want me to go there or not?”

“What apity, I’m already walking under the rain…” Fushimi teased, a smirkplaying on his face.

“No,Saru, you wouldn’t. I know you toowell to know that if you were about to do that, you wouldn’t have called in thefirst place.”

“Wow, itseems rainy days fix your brain, doesn’t them?” And it was scary too, howmuch Yata actually knew about him.

Yeah… Itwas scary but, at the same time, it made his stomach twist a little.

…

He clickedhis tongue, annoyed.

“I’mstill here,” Fushimi commented, hugging himself with his free hand,“and it’s getting cold. So if I get sick, the fault is yours.”

“But ifyou were the one that—!” Yata suddenly cut his words. “You know what?I’ll be there in five minutes. Stay right where you are, dumbass.”

And asFushimi rolled his eyes, he hang up the phone.

He just hadto wait, not knowing what Yata’s plan was at all. In the end, they didn’t evenhave a car so…

What was hegoing to do?

The answer camea few minutes later, and Fushimi just wanted a lightning to fall right over hishead when he saw Yata getting closer to the building’s entrance…

Riding…

A…

“I knewyou were a complete idiot but this… You’ve just won the gold medal,Misaki” He kept one hand on his forehead, still not believing what he wasseeing.

“Ididn’t have any other choice! But… Hey! I bought raincoats so we don’t getwet!” he threw the one he had on hand towards Fushimi. “We don’t havea car, what were you waiting for? You could have paid a taxi if you didn’t wantthis, don’t you think?”

“If I calledyou it was because I didn’t have the money for a taxi in the first place.”Fushimi didn’t know if he should cry or laugh. “But you could have thinkof that… Instead, you decided to bring a bike!?”

“Admitit, Saru, it’s like the old times!”

Old times…Yeah… Maybe…

They used toride on bikes a lot. Mostly, Fushimi seated on the back while Yata was the oneriding. However, this memories were from years ago!

And maybe itwas because of this that Fushimi was calming himself a little bit. The sound ofrain was no longer disturbing him, because Yata was right in front of him,wearing that fucking yellow raincoat, and smiling waiting for Fushimi to getready.

After a longsigh, he put the ridiculous raincoat on and got on the bike too. He sat at theback, just like the old days.

“I justhope we don’t fall, because I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Shutup, Saru. It’ll be okay.” It seemed like Yata didn’t even had the time toget angry. Well, neither of them wanted to be mad.

As soon asthe bike started moving, everything felt light-weighted. Fushimi felt how hisstress and anger started fading away when the wind mixed with raindrops fell onhis cheeks, his face being the main target of the rain now that he had his raincoaton.

And heobviously couldn’t see Yata, but he knew the effort he was making to get homeas fastest as he could.

Fushimi closedhis eyes, held on tighter to the sides of the seat, and decided to enjoy theride.

It certainlyfelt like the old times, or even much better now.

Maybe rainy daysand bike rides weren’t that bad after all.

#dorks being dorks (?#k project #sarumi #my fanfiction

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ridiasfangirlings · 4 years ago

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Sarumi is suits and sunglasses *^* Imagine the two of them join as like young hot-blooded kids, maybe they got caught up in some alien issue when they were younger and get recruited rather than being mind-wiped (assuming Munakata is the head of some division, say he saw Fushimi and immediately was like 'I want that one'). They become partners and handle all sorts of situations together, both feeling like as long as it's the two of them there's nothing they can't accomplish. Then one day they get assigned to work with one of the heads of the men in black, Habari Jin, dealing with a volatile situation involving the king of the planet Homra. Kagutsu is being targeted by hostile aliens trying to use the unique biology of the Homra kings to get him to self destruct. Yata and Fushimi are just supposed to be back up but they end up getting dragged in way over their heads, like there's a huge battle where Habari eventually gets killed and Kagutsu does end up self destructing. Fushimi is injured early on and so he's not involved in the battle, Yata is given like some kind of super important mission to deliver a letter to Kagutsu but he fails and due to this failure the authorities decide to lay all the blame on him. No one listens to Yata when he tries to explain why, like say what actually happened is while Yata couldn't help save Kagutsu it's because he spotted Anna in danger and chose to save her instead. Yata therefore is willing to accept his punishment because he feels like he did the right thing in saving a little girl rather than leaving her to be killed.

Munakata manages to convince his superiors to simply mind-wipe Yata instead of killing him and they agree, Yata is then taken into the care of the remaining aliens of Homra who want to repay him for saving their princess. Fushimi meanwhile has to stay in the men in black and of course he's all bitter about Yata losing his memory, like maybe at some point the two of them had discussed what they would do if the other got mind-wiped and Yata always insisted that even if he lost his memories he would still know Saruhiko anywhere. It doesn't work that way however and Yata immediately forgets all about Fushimi, every now and again Fushimi subtly checks in on how Yata's doing at Bar Homra and he sees Yata in the middle of all these aliens smiling and laughing and it just makes Fushimi even more upset, like look how easily he was replaced. Munakata tries to get him a new partner but Fushimi refuses, from now on he works alone (also he probably has a lot of guilt because he let himself get injured during the mission, thinking that if he'd been stronger and stayed with Misaki at least they could have lost their memories together and he could still have stayed by Misaki's side).

Years later things finally come to a head again when there's a series of mystery attacks on alien ambassadors and heads of state that are taking refuge on earth. Fushimi and Munakata are in charge of figuring out what's going on and naturally Homra gets dragged into all of this when Anna becomes a target. Yata is shocked when the bar is attacked by aliens and it turns out all the people he's been living with and thinking of as family all this time were really aliens, he's even more surprised when these two guys in suits and sunglasses show up and start talking to Anna's bodyguard Mikoto as if they're old friends. Fushimi gives Yata this twisted grin and greets him as 'Misaki' which makes Yata even more confused, Fushimi is annoyed that even now Yata doesn't recall a thing. Munakata requests Homra's assistance in uncovering the truth around these incidents and Mikoto glances at Yata as he says aren't they supposed to be keeping Yata out of this, Munakata says that this being an emergency they will have to make some exceptions – and besides, Fushimi will need a partner in this mission and there's only one person he's compatible with.

So Yata gets recruited once again into the men in black and maybe his memories start returning in like slow flashes, like he enters their headquarters and Yata can't shake the feeling that he knows this place somehow. He can't help but think this whole thing is pretty cool though, like he never knew aliens existed before. When he says that Fushimi glares and clicks his tongue, Yata doesn't understand why this guy seems to hate him so much when they've just met. From this point the two of them start working together and it's strange for Yata because he feels like he should hate Fushimi but at the same time he's just so drawn to him, meanwhile Fushimi's trying so hard to keep his distance because he won't let himself get attached to Yata again. At one point say Yata's wandering around too and he finds like this photo of a welcoming party for new agents and Yata's shocked to see what is unmistakeably himself, smiling at the camera with one arm around Fushimi and he realizes that there's more going on here than he realizes. Yata's now on a double mission, he wants to help save Anna and get to the bottom of this whole situation while at the same time he's trying to uncover the truth behind his lost memories and his growing feelings for Saruhiko.

#sarumi #Talking K #imagine Yata slowly recovering his memories #and realizing that the current situation is tied to what happened years ago #and like his memories hold the key #he also wants so much to remember Saruhiko #like even though this guy is a jerk Yata feels like Saru's important to him

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ridiasfangirlings · 5 years ago

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God I love your K drabbles! The characterization is flawless, your ideas are so original and you trigger emotions so well!! I greatly respect your writing. Aaaanyway, do you think Fushimi would ever mistake Domyouji for Yata? Like he doesn’t have his glasses on and he is either drunk or sick causing him to accidentally confess to the wrong redhead. (And maybe after his exclamation like Hidaka or someone passes a 20 to Akiyama like ‘how’d you know he was gay?’)

It immediately occurs to me that if Fushimi mistook Doumyouji for Yata wouldn't it be more likely to be middle school Yata since Doumyouji's hair is longer, like just imagine a drunken Fushimi seeing Doumyouji and thinking it's the old Yata there in front of him and getting all clingy. Maybe this is like right around the time of Fushimi's 20th birthday, he's only just getting to try some alcohol and he ends up accidentally overdoing it because he's just annoyed about various things. Oh, maybe he ran into Yata earlier that day and they fought a little but Yata kept trying to understand him and talk to him (since this would be post-MK, so Yata's still trying to thank him instead of hating him). Fushimi gets back to his dorm and he's annoyed because it feels like he's worked so hard to make Misaki hate him, focused so much on making certain that Yata knows they aren't friends and yet Yata keeps trying to talk to him like they are. He's in his room late at night just working on his laptop, eventually falling asleep right there at his desk. He wakes up with his head on the desk and his glasses having fallen off, he reaches for his water bottle and finds that it's empty. Fushimi curses, just annoyed by the universe in general as he gets up and heads to the kitchen, belatedly realizing that he's still missing his glasses.

Fushimi makes it to the kitchen, opening the fridge and just grabbing the first clear bottle he sees, assuming it's water. Of course he ends up just chugging some alcohol instead, by the time he realizes it tastes funny he's already had half the bottle and he's feeling too tipsy for good decision making. That's when there's a commotion behind him and Fushimi blearily turns to look, Doumyouji shines a flashlight at him like 'freeze, ghost!' Doumyouji relaxes only slightly when he sees it's Fushimi, he was sneaking in for a midnight snack and didn't expect to find his superior here instead. Fushimi's looking at him really intently, eyes narrowed like he's having trouble focusing as he takes this slow step forward. Doumyouji gets a bit nervous thinking he's going to get in trouble and trying to explain that he was just going to have a little bit of the cake Kamo left in the fridge and there's nothing wrong with that right he's not on the clock so Fushimi can't yell at him. By now Fushimi's like almost right up next to him and Doumyouji's all 'Fushimi-san...?' Suddenly Fushimi's arms are wrapping around him and Fushimi's burying his face in Doumyouji's shoulder all 'Misaki....!'

Doumyouji's like 'eh?' but Fushimi's already just clinging to him, drunkenly repeating 'Misaki' over and over. Doumyouji tries to gently pry him away but Fushimi's reached full on emotional drunk mode, telling 'Misaki' not to leave and that he doesn't really want Misaki to hate him he just didn't know any other way. Doumyouji has no idea what's going on but Fushimi seems sad and he doesn't like seeing sad people so he's trying to be all encouraging instead, like aw don't worry Fushimi-san I'm sure it's okay probably. Fushimi leans up next to Doumyouji's ear and whispers 'I love you,' Doumyouji almost falls back like wait a second as Fushimi nuzzles him all 'Love you, Misaki.' Doumyouji's looking around desperately for help as Fushimi starts snuggling him all 'Misaki~' and he has no idea what to do he just knows he needs to get out of this situation before Fushimi sobers up and kills him. (Luckily Akiyama and Benzai show up for some early morning tea, Akiyama manages to gently pry Fushimi off of Doumyouji and they escort Fushimi back to his dorm while Doumyouji wonders who that 'Misaki' was that Fushimi just confessed to. Akiyama and Benzai exchange glances and then Akiyama's like 'I win,' Benzai smiles ruefully and says he knew he shouldn't have bet against Akiyama while Doumyouji looks cluelessly between the two of them.)

#sarumi #Talking K #I think I have a doujinshi with this plot except it's Hidaka I think I even scanned that one #imagine poor Doumyouji just frozen there with Fushimi drunkenly clinging #meanwhile Benzai learns you never bet against Akiyama's gaydar

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ridiasfangirlings · 7 years ago

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Title: Still Point (11/12)

Fandom: K Project

External: AO3 / ff.net

Ratings/Warnings: T

Notes: The final cliffhanger ^^

XVII. bullet wound

“Bye, Yata.”

Fushimi felt something bitter rising in his throat and he swallowed it down as he double-checked the repeating pattern he'd set on the radio. It was a simple bit of code, designed to burn itself out after the predetermined time period, so that if anyone walked into the communications room after the three minutes had passed there would be no sign that Fushimi had even left it there in the first place.

The Green Army's communications room was above ground, inside the now-abandoned Ashinaka University. It had likely been there even before Hisui Nagare had taken over, judging from the bits and pieces of equipment that were still strewn everywhere – some kind of broadcast room used by students and faculty back in more peaceful days, now taken and twisted into just another weapon of war. The jammer had quite likely been there from the start too, unfinished perhaps, but intact enough that it had been able to become Hisui's trump card in the fight against the United Colors, disrupting their communications and leaving them vulnerable.

That was over at least, assuming Misaki had enough of a brain left in his head to deliver Fushimi's message. In truth, Fushimi put those odds at perhaps fifty-fifty, at best. Who would trust the words of a traitor, after all, and Misaki had made it clear that was all he saw Fushimi as now – a person who had left the United Armies and joined with their greatest enemy, all for his own personal gain.

And what else would he think of you as? You didn't tell him about the mission. The words hovered on the edge of his mind and Fushimi dismissed them. This was no time for worrying about Misaki, what he did and didn't think. Misaki's opinion of him wouldn't matter if he never made it out of Ashinaka and his mission – the mission he was staking his life on – had not quite finished yet.

It had taken some time to prepare the trap. For all the freedom Hisui Nagare gave him Fushimi was constantly aware that he was always being watched while in the Green Army's headquarters – if not by Hisui himself than by Yukari or Sukuna. And beyond that there was Iwafune Tenkei as well, an unknown quantity who appeared and disappeared as he pleased, who had run into Fushimi more than once when Fushimi had been carefully making his way through the maze of the Green army's tunnels, trying to perfect the map in his head. Iwafune always acted as if the encounters were mere coincidence but Fushimi knew better, and had kept his secrets close to his chest.

It had been impossible to tell exactly how much trust Hisui was placing in him. Hisui had certainly been willing to send him on multiple missions unaccompanied, even going so far as to have him evaluate the current state of the occupation at Shizume. Running into Awashima and Kusanagi had not been part of the plan, though he couldn't help but wonder afterward if that had somehow been a part of Hisui's plan, to see if Fushimi would dare raise a weapon against his former comrades. In any case, Fushimi had held his cover until the very end.

He had been on edge ever since then, sensing gunpowder in the wind, waiting for the chance to act. He'd been certain of it that morning, when he'd met Hisui in the main room of the base and found that map laid out on the table again and Hisui sitting beside it, staring down with shining eyes. From what Fushimi could discern Hisui was preparing for quite a large offensive – he hadn't said much to Fushimi about where they were planning to attack but weaponry and fuel for the planes had been shipped into the secret base in droves in the last few days, often enough that Fushimi would have had to be blind not to notice it. As part of the preparations, Iwafune had left the base early to oversee a shipment of shell casings arriving on the next truck. Yukari was also elsewhere, off on one of his own missions, and even Sukuna had been doing rounds through Ashinaka to make sure everything was still tightly under their own control. At this late stage, the possibility of rogue civilians or rebels starting up a disturbance was something that could not be tolerated.

Left alone in the base, Fushimi had finally been given the chance to put his plan into action. First, he'd made his way into the ammunition stores and set off as many fires as he dared, just enough to create a distraction. He'd stolen a few bombs and set them in the airplane hangar, doing a decent bit of damage to the Green Army's planes – again, enough to keep most of the rank and file busy and distracted while he made his way out of the tunnels and into the university. Most of Hisui's operations were taking place either beneath the school or behind it and so the majority of the force was concentrated there. Fushimi had prepared himself for the possibility of having to dispose of the soldiers manning the communications room but they had apparently been pulled away by the commotion Fushimi had made outside and the room had been entirely empty, giving Fushimi the precious time he needed to locate the jammer whose existence Munakata had theorized in their discussion months ago back at Shizume. He'd taken a moment to familiarize himself with the radio and then, judging that no one appeared to be in pursuit of him currently, he'd finally risked sending his own transmission.

He hadn't expected Misaki of all people to be the one to receive it but that was all right. As long as that idiot was able to get someone to decode the location transmission he sent out it didn't matter who he talked to. It certainly hadn't made him pause for a moment, hadn't reminded him of the voice he'd been certain he was never going to hear again after that night he'd walked away from the emergency outpost with bruises in the shape of Misaki's fingers darkening on his neck. Misaki's presence had been an unexpected hurdle but not one Fushimi had been incapable of leaping over without looking back.

So he'd moved forward, as he'd planned to do from the start, relayed his message and then cut communications entirely. Which left him where he was now, still in the heart of enemy headquarters, and with only one last move left to play.

Fushimi slowly made his way out of the communications room, letting the door click shut behind him. There were still no signs of any soldiers but the sounds of chaos from outside were dying down, the plumes of smoke he could see still rising out from behind the building growing thinner and thinner. The fires were likely almost out by now, the majority of the bombs discovered or disabled. Soon the focus of the Green army would turn from securing their remaining power to hunting down the one who had begun the destruction in the first place.

That meant two roads lay in front of him. He could try to run, get out of Ashinaka as fast as his feet could carry him. They were miles away from the nearest United Colors outpost and he would have no choice but to try and reach it on foot, making use of every stealth technique he knew in order to navigate the terrain and avoid capture. And even then the odds of him making it out safely were negligible at best – had Fushimi been in any other town held by the Green army he would have felt confident in his ability to out-think and out-plan any of the enemy's officers, but here he would be pitted against Hisui Nagare's own hand-picked inner circle. He would be a fool not to expect Mishakuji Yukari, at the very least, to be immediately on his tail the moment the other man returned from his own mission. And even if Fushimi did escape, his flight would likely signal to Hisui Nagare that there was a heavy possibility the United Colors had been made aware of his location. Even if Fushimi's message reached Munakata in its entirety, by the time the army arrived it might already be too late. Hisui Nagare would have moved on, and any chance at finding him would be lost for good.

And the second choice...Fushimi slowed to a stop directly outside the metal gate that led down into the tunnels. If he ran, it would be expected that he'd already communicated his location to the United Colors. If he was a double agent still working with them, he would naturally communicate the location of Hisui Nagare's home base and then try to reconvene with the rest of the force. But a traitor, a person who was only interested in his own plans, his own escape, and nothing else...

Fushimi could feel his throat starting to constrict, the world around him narrowing to something fathomless and dark, lungs clogged by the memory of smoke, and his hands felt numb as he pulled the gate open.

If he was captured leaving Ashinaka, it would be assumed he had already come from the communications room, had already notified his comrades of his location. But if he was discovered inside the tunnels instead, going back underground to continue the havoc he'd already begun, there was a possibility no one would even realize the full line of his trail. After all, only a fool would go back down into his own grave rather than reaching for the open sky above.

A fool. Fushimi laughed quietly to himself, short of breath and heart beating fast from something more than just exertion as he stepped forward and forced himself back down into the darkness.

The tunnels seemed to close in on him as he walked and Fushimi kept one hand on the far wall, following the twists and turns of the underground. He didn't bother to head for the centralized bunker Hisui and his comrades used as a living area and war room – there would be no reason for him to return there and if he wanted to fake an escape it would make no sense to go to the spot where he knew the enemy would be. There was more than one way out of the tunnels, after all. All he needed to do now was follow the turns until he got close enough to one of the exits, and then wait to be caught.

Fushimi felt a thin smile wind its way onto his face, feeling oddly detached from the workings of his own body, as if his mind was a separate machine from the muscles that moved his flesh. That was all he was doing, really. Biding time until he was captured and returned to Hisui Nagare to be killed, only hoping that the minutes and hours he bought with his life would be enough.

“Hey, Saruhiko. It's really too bad it turned out to be you after all, huh?”

Fushimi immediately slowed to a stop at the sound of the voice, one hand going to the holster of his pistol as he turned even though he knew full well that there would be no point in drawing the weapon, especially here underground. Iwafune Tenkei leaned against the wall behind him, shaking his head as if confronting a troublesome child.

“I'm not an idiot,” Fushimi said coldly, putting all the scorn he could into those words. “Don't tell me you're all so stupid that you didn't see this coming, right? Ootori Seigo.”

Iwafune's expression tightened for just a moment before he gave a sheepish laugh, shaking his head.

“Well, well, you've got me there! But it's Iwafune Tenkei now. Honestly, kids like you are just too bright nowadays, huh?”

“I've read about the Grey Division,” Fushimi said with a shrug. “It wasn't hard to figure out after that. I never saw anything about an 'Iwafune Tenkei' in their ranks. Guess that military funeral with full honors was wasted on a living man.”

“No, no, those rites were meant for the dead and belong to the dead,” Iwafune said amiably. “Ootori Seigo did die that day, you see. That guy was loyal to old man Daikaku, and, well...” He spread his arms wide and shrugged.

“Is that why Hisui Nagare sent you after me?” Fushimi laughed coldly. “So we could talk, traitor to traitor.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, kid,” Iwafune replied, completely unaffected, and Fushimi couldn't help but frown in annoyance. “But you know, I don't really see myself as a traitor. I guess you could say....we're liberators.”

“Liberators.” Fushimi snorted. “You're all a bunch of idealistic idiots, chasing a stupid dream to your deaths.”

“Ah, well, I guess that's how you'd see it.” Iwafune chuckled, scratching his head. “But you know, Saruhiko...aren't you tired of it too? Bein' dragged into a war without any understanding of it.”

“Tch. I never had any interest in the reasons from the start,” Fushimi said blandly. “The only thing I'm interested in is a battlefield, pounding blood and torn flesh. I'd hoped the Green army would be more suited to my tastes, that's all.”

Iwafune stared at him for a moment then and Fushimi's hands twitched again, keeping his breathing steady. It wouldn't do to be seen through here of all places, closed in with no more tunnels to escape into.

“Honestly, you kids.” Iwafune shook his head. “That brat, Munakata, he put you in a high position, didn't he? Can't even drink yet and they've got you leading an army. Do you even know what any of this is about? Or did they just hand you a gun and tell you to fight, and you did it?”

“Does it even matter?” Fushimi drawled. “You're the ones who started all this, right? The Green General's just as interested in a war as anyone else, you don't need to shroud it in your shit morals just so you can feel righteous about it.”

“I raised Nagare, you know.” Iwafune's voice took on a conversational tone, as if telling a story to a child, and Fushimi's face twisted in a scowl. “His old man and I were best friends. Before that guy died, he asked me to take care of his kid. To make sure Nagare didn't die like his dad did, insides all torn up by a landmine on a battlefield. I'd barely got back to base when that old fart Daikaku handed Nagare a gun and a rank. Like more blood sacrifices to the beast called war could do any good, or bring us any peace.”

Coming from a guy whose hands are caked in blood to the elbows, and Fushimi clicked his tongue again, measuring the possibilities of whether or not one of his knives could hit its mark before Iwafune retaliated and killed him in return.

“Well, I guess there's no point in tryin' to explain it to you, huh?” Iwafune shook his head. “We were pretty excited to have you join, too. Once we get the rest of this country under Nagare's control we'll finish the ships they're building in the coastal towns and Nagare's dream will spread everywhere. Would've been nice if you could see it, you know?”

Fushimi tensed, mind immediately shooting ahead, calculating trajectories and the arc of a bullet's ricochet in such close quarters – Iwafune had only his gun and would he dare to draw it, would he hesitate, and Fushimi still with his knives that could give him the advantage in a space like this, even as his breathing sped up and his throat felt like it was closing.

Iwafune's stance shifted and Fushimi's hands immediately flashed inside his sleeves, fingers grasping for the hilt of a knife. But Iwafune's eyes weren't on him at all, hands not even moving towards the gun at his waist, gaze focused instead of something just over Fushimi's shoulder--

A moment too late Fushimi whirled, knife falling from limp fingers as Mishakuji Yukari materialized out of the darkness, a whirl of black cloak and silver sword. There was a spike of pain in the back of his head and then the black spots hovering on the edges of Fushimi's vision converged and swallowed him whole.

No exit, and as he fell heavily to the ground Fushimi smiled.

–

Fushimi's hands bled slightly where they were tied behind his back as he was led through a line of silent staring Green soldiers towards his death.

There was something almost calming about it, numbness settling in, and he couldn't quite feel his fingers. This was fine, though. If the Greens were wasting time on him that meant the full scope of his treachery hadn't been discovered yet, and that was the important thing.

After being knocked unconscious by Yukari Fushimi had woken up with a raging headache and blood on his forehead, bound behind cold iron bars and pressed close to a rock wall with barely enough room to turn around. From what he could tell the cage had been originally made to be part of a transport elevator but only the elevator shaft and the bars for the door had been constructed. The cage had been pitch dark, not even so much as a candle left for him, and he'd lain there in the darkness for a long time, focusing on breathing in and out and keeping his heartbeat steady. That was when Sukuna had shown up with a lantern and a mouth full of idiotic bravado, gloating about Fushimi's failure and calling him a traitor.

Traitor, as if Sukuna was the first to say that word, as if it even mattered coming from Sukuna's mouth when so many others had beaten him to it. In the end, though, Sukuna's presence had been a stroke of luck – Yukari or Iwafune might have seen through Fushimi's taunting replies and held their tongues, but Sukuna had been too easy to rile up and it hadn't taken long for Fushimi to grasp the situation. The problems he'd caused around the base had of course been noticed and had even done some slight damage, but there had been no mention whatsoever of him infiltrating the communications room. If the Green Army had known about it Fushimi was certain Sukuna wouldn't have been able to resist rubbing that last failure in his face. His own life might be forfeit now, but his message at least had remained a secret until the end.

One of the soldiers flanking him shoved him forward and Fushimi clicked his tongue, trying not to stumble. The soldiers around him all watched his passage with faces completely obscured by their masks and it made him feel lightheaded somehow, being surrounded by row upon row of faceless figures, impassive and anonymous. Near the front of the procession Fushimi could see Yukari glance back at him curiously, one hand on the hilt of the saber that Fushimi knew from experience was no more decorative than the knives that covered his own body. Or had covered, rather, as all of those had been taken from him, along with his two pistols (and part of him wanted to ask for it, where they'd taken that old secondhand pistol he'd once scavenged from a garbage bin and fixed up while Misaki stared at him with fascinated eyes, the relic that had been one of his most precious things all this time).

He was completely unarmed now, for the first time in a very long time, and it made Fushimi feel more exposed than he'd ever been before. The sky above was hazy, heavy with gray clouds, and he wondered if it was going to rain. Not that it would matter to him in a few more minutes, of course. But the United Colors should be marching even now, and rain would only impede their progress.

“Hmph. This is something you've gotten yourself into, traitor,” Sukuna taunted as Fushimi was forced down to his knees in front of a wooden platform. Hisui sat to one side of the platform with Sukuna and Iwafune at his side, looking down at Fushimi with an unreadable expression. Yukari moved to stand on Hisui's other side, shaking his head.

“How unfortunate,” Hisui murmured. His gaze was fixed on Fushimi and Fushimi returned it as steadily as he dared. “I did have high hopes for you, Saruhiko. You would have done well as part of my army.”

“This is my freedom, right?” Fushimi gave him a cold smile but Hisui didn't so much as blink.

“Indeed.” Hisui nodded to one of the soldiers standing behind Fushimi and Fushimi found his head jerked abruptly upward, a cloth pulled down over his eyes so that his entire line of vision was obscured by darkness. He could still hear Hisui's voice though, and something like the hum of an engine in the distance.

So he hadn't managed to destroy any of the planes after all. Fushimi suddenly felt a laugh building in his throat as he was dragged up onto the platform, blindfolded with arms still bound.

“Your betrayal has won you nothing.” Hisui's voice continued. Fushimi felt the light touch if raindrops on his skin and he wondered if they were all going to stand out there like idiots in the middle of a storm just so Hisui could enjoy the theatricality of a public execution. “I had hoped you would be the one member of your family who could stay by my side, Saruhiko. You had such potential. It is a shame that your choices have lead you elsewhere. But of course, I cannot allow such a thing to go unpunished. I apologize for this.”

Fushimi heard Sukuna laugh again accompanied by the familiar sound of metal being pulled from a sheath, Yukari drawing his sword.

“Men, raise your firearms!” Yukari's voice carried easily, even with the sound of planes drawing nearer. Fushimi leaned his head back, letting the rain hit his face cold and wet.

Misaki... Fushimi chuckled quietly. Well, what else had he expected, in the end? To be saved? That was foolishness from the beginning, and he'd known it. He had completed the mission. His own life was immaterial now. His only regret was that he wouldn't be able to enjoy watching Hisui Nagare's army fall.

Still, he'd gotten his own revenge now, for that day on the hill and the dark red hole where Misaki's eye had been. That was enough. After all that digging in the dark, he'd finally found a tunnel that had only a single way out.

“On my mark. One...”

This is so stupid. He wanted to laugh almost, laugh and keep laughing until the moment the Green army's bullets pierced his body. Wouldn't that give them all a show, far better than anything he and Misaki had seen in the town square so many years ago. At that time he'd actually thought that perhaps it wouldn't even be so bad if they were caught, as long as they died together.

But this was the way it had been meant to be from the start. Dimly he heard Yukari continue the countdown and Fushimi let his head hang down limply against his chest. It was fine this way.

A cellar full of smoke, and he'd always been meant to die alone.

“Three...and f--” Yukari's voice was cut off by the roar of engines. Something exploded nearby, so close that Fushimi found himself suddenly thrown to the ground below, blindfold nearly coming loose as he landed hard on his side.

“W-what the hell, why are our planes--” Fushimi heard Sukuna's voice over the sudden commotion, followed by Hisui's reply.

“Those are not our planes.” He didn't sound upset or worried, as Fushimi would have expected. Instead there was nothing in Hisui Nagare's voice but anticipation.

“But they have to be ours, the United Colors doesn't have any air support!” Sukuna sounded like a child throwing a tantrum and Fushimi found himself laughing quietly as something else exploded to his right. The blindfold had slipped down slightly and with his glasses missing he could just make out the hazy shapes of Green soldiers running around the camp, trying to put out the rash of fires that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere. He heard someone yell off in the distance and then the soldiers were running back towards the town gates, a black shape that might have been Iwafune in the lead.

“So they've come at last.” Hisui Nagare was already moving to follow Iwafune, Yukari at his side. Fushimi couldn't see where Sukuna had gone but rolling his head back to look upwards he could see small hazy silhouettes darting through the sky. There was another explosion somewhere further back, near the university entrance.

There was only one division in the United Colors that had air support, and Fushimi found himself smiling despite his position. His message had made it after all.

You finally managed to get through to Mihashira, huh, Captain? The planes above could only mean that the Silver General, at least, was still alive and had no doubt been contacted by Munakata as soon as he'd managed to adjust the frequency of their transmissions in order to get around Hisui Nagare's jammer.

Another explosion made even the ground shake and Fushimi found himself thrown forward again, debris scattering around him as the platform burst into a shower of splintered wood. Fushimi felt something strike him, sharp and painful, and he angled his head so that he could just make out the thick piece of wood that had hit him, buried deep in his side.

Fushimi grimaced and tried to pull himself into a sitting position, moving his arms so that he could just press the ropes that bound his hands against the sharp splintered end of the plank sticking out of his body. There was blood pooling on his shirt from where the wood had sunk deep into his skin and Fushimi's already hazy vision swam even more but still he worked his bound hands against the wood, the rope fraying just enough so that he was finally able to pull his hands free.

Fushimi forced himself to his feet, stumbling forward as he yanked the rest of the blindfold off his face. The base around him was in chaos, fires and bodies everywhere, Green soldiers trying to put out the flames as others ran through the camp with their weapons drawn. In the distance Fushimi could just make out an approaching wave of red and blue figures coming to meet them, and above it all, carried along by wind and smoke, a familiar voice.

“Saruhiko! Where the hell are you?”

Fushimi felt another laugh bubbling in his throat as he took a staggering step forward. Pain lanced through his side and he could feel something wet on his lips. Fushimi pressed one hand against his injured side, forcing himself to walk forward.

That idiot... Of course Misaki would be here, calling for him. Fushimi stumbled and sank down to his knees, his limbs feeling suddenly too heavy to move.

“This is all your fault!” Fushimi barely had time to register the sound of Sukuna's voice before something dealt him a glancing blow to the side of the head and he fell to the ground. Fushimi stared up blankly through the rain and the blood that was running down his face. Sukuna stood over him, still clutching the pistol he'd just hit Fushimi with, breathing hard and face wet from something more than rain.

“Nagare welcomed you!” Sukuna's hands clenched spasmodically around the pistol. “And look what you've done. You...traitor!”

Fushimi couldn't stop himself from laughing now, his entire body shaking with the force of it, and even Sukuna raising the gun and the white hot pain that lanced through his upper thigh, along with the sound of a gunshot that accompanied it, couldn't stop the convulsive laughter.

“Looks like your precious Nagare's finally lost, huh?” Fushimi's vision seemed to be going gray at the edges and it was hard to keep his gaze steady on Sukuna's face, the image constantly slipping just out of focus. Dimly he heard Misaki yell for him again. “But you never thought of that, did you? This is a war. Did you really think you could always win?”

“Shut up!” Sukuna's pistol pressed cold against his forehead and still Fushimi couldn't stop laughing. “Nagare won't lose. Nagare can't lose.”

“That's why I hate kids like you,” Fushimi murmured. “You think you can hold shit like this together with just words. It doesn't work. It never works.”

“I said, shut up!” The pistol again, pressed close against his skin and Fushimi couldn't even feel it, entire body gone numb with cold and pain. “We haven't lost yet.”

“Yes, you have.” Fushimi smirked, letting his body go limp in the dirt. “None of you get that, do you? You, Misaki...none of your ever know when to just accept when you've finally, finally lost.”

Sukuna's hand was shaking on the hilt of the pistol and Fushimi smiled up at him.

“Go on.” His voice sounded like a croak in his own ears and Fushimi couldn't hear anything but the rain. “If you're going to do it, get it over with.”

Sukuna gave a wordless scream and there was the roar of a gun firing in his ears, accompanied by a cold pain in his head. The sky above had gone completely black, the sky and the ground and everything, and as his eyes began to slide closed Fushimi could just make out someone running towards him, reaching for him.

“Misaki.” The word was thick in his mouth and it felt almost as if it was someone else speaking, not his voice at all.

“Saruhiko...” Misaki's hands were gentle as they cradled him and Fushimi couldn't seem to keep Misaki's face into focus. Fushimi tried to open his mouth again, to speak even without knowing at all what he would say, and all that came out was another wet cough. Misaki's hands tightened around him and Fushimi couldn't tell which one of them was shaking.

Misaki...I'm...

Cold crept in through every one of his limbs and despite the dimming light Fushimi could just make out Misaki's mouth moving even though Fushimi could no longer hear the sound of his voice.

Something gray closed in along the corners of his vision, sweeping Misaki's face away entirely, and Fushimi reached up to embrace the darkness with both hands.

#Fushimi Saruhiko #sarumi #k poject #fic #second to last chapter~#I was trying to get this finished before a year had passed whoops #thanks for anyone who's still sticking with it ;;#almost done ;;

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brynne-lagaao · 8 years ago

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(Fanfic) All That We Are - Chapter Twelve (final)

Title: All That We Are

Chapter: 12/12

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | FF.NET | Website

Summary: There wasn’t any real need to find out whether or not they were soulmates if they were both sure of the answer. But Yata’s answer was different from Fushimi’s, and that was just another of the dividing points they couldn’t reconcile.

Note: Once again, thank you to my wonderful betas, @dropletons and @candylit for their hard work and for not giving up on me over the course of writing this fic! You guys rock!

Thank you to everyone who kept up with this fic as I was posting it! I appreciate all of your comments and encouragement so much - it really makes the effort of writing this fic worth it. Please let me know what you think of the fic as a whole if you get a chance!

The marks were on the backs of their hands.

More specifically, the hands they’d been clasping as they had sex. It wasn’t until the need to sort out all the gross leftovers from the whole business became too much and they’d started to awkwardly separate that Fushimi had noticed. And Misaki had discovered it at approximately the same moment, muttering a small, “oh,” even as Fushimi stared at his own hand.

It was probably inevitable that he’d feel the pit of dread forming in his stomach, but it was still unsettling. He’d reconciled himself to the idea that they very well could be soulmates, and it wasn’t as if his resolve to be with Misaki had lessened simply because it turned out to be true.

But…

A glance up revealed that Misaki had shifted back to a more comfortable position, tilting his hand slowly to different angles as he studied the mark. His eyebrows were bunched together, a tiny hint of a frown on his face as if he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

That makes two of us, then…

The longer the silence stretched out between them, the more reality seemed to trickle into Fushimi’s awareness. The dim yellow lighting from the lamp beside the bed set shadows in the corners of the room, giving it a less savory appearance despite the reputable nature of the place. The walls were a bland off-white, the carpet a nondescript grey, and the generic bedcover they sat on felt scratchy and cheap.

It wasn’t the best choice for a first time, maybe. That hadn’t been foremost in his mind when he’d planned this, and he was aware that Misaki wasn’t going to be particularly fussy about it. He didn’t exactly care either. But with his current mood…

Fushimi turned back toward the side of the bed, moving to sit with his feet on the floor. His back was to Misaki this way and he wasn’t sure if that might send the wrong message, but there was a giant knot of mixed feelings that had risen up within him and he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about unraveling it. The pit in his stomach felt like it was expanding out, churning unpleasantly as it threatened to consume him.

This whole business was frustrating. He’d settled it, hadn’t he? Why should it come up again?

Oddly, it helped to actually look at the mark itself. The entire back of his hand, from the knuckles to the wrist, was covered in a mass of tiny, beautifully detailed flowers, which he recognized immediately despite not having bothered with the gift Munakata had given him. Forget-me-nots and lily-of-the-valley, carefully mixed and overlapping so the white and the pale purple-blue wove into a small pool of contrasts.

If he shut his eyes, he could still see the bundles they’d exchanged as kids. The flower arrangement on that balcony, years ago. The single, squashed blossom in the tiny book he’d been given on his return.

He wasn’t sure what these flowers meant to Misaki, but for himself…

‘The return of happiness’… right?

At some point while he’d been lost in his thoughts, Misaki had started to shift on the bed, shuffling himself up until he could settle into place on Fushimi’s left and bumping their bare shoulders together as he did. “Hey,” he started, voice oddly subdued.

Fushimi glanced sideways at him, feeling a tiny spark as that direct gaze met his. “’Hey’?”

“Shut up, I needed an opening.” A little hint of exasperated amusement lightened up Misaki’s expression for a second, but his eyes were still serious. He took in a breath. “You’re not freaking out on me, are ya?”

Was he? Fushimi frowned a bit, trying to consider that honestly. “Not… exactly,” he responded cautiously, after a brief second. “Just thinking.”

Misaki snorted. “Right, ’cause that’s so much better.” He shook his head, a rueful grin starting on his lips. “I know what happens when you get thinking too much.” Despite the certainty in that statement, he reached up to rub at the back of his neck almost anxiously. “Actually, truth is… when I saw this” – at that, he lowered his hand to tap at his wrist – “even though I knew it didn’t matter, I couldn’t help but feel a bit happy.” He shrugged, a nervous little jerk of his shoulders. “Old habits, or whatever. So I thought if that’s what I felt, you probably felt the opposite. Y’know?”

That resonated. Fushimi stared back at him wordlessly for a moment, struck with the familiar flood of feelings from one of Misaki’s uncommon bullseye responses.

It helped. Knowing that he wasn’t alone, even if their feelings didn’t match exactly, was somehow reassuring. He wasn’t the only one struggling with this, not quite knowing what to expect or where to go next. His own helpless insecurities that he didn’t want to acknowledge were reflected back at him from Misaki’s gaze, but there was no sign of regret or reluctance to move forward. And if he searched carefully, he found that he didn’t feel those things either.

It was… encouraging. In a way.

“Heh.” Misaki’s face lightened into a wider smile. “I’m right, huh?”

Okay, that was kind of annoying. Fushimi clicked his tongue, turning his gaze aside. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He could hear the amusement in Misaki’s tone at that, but it faded off into a kind of wistful note as he spoke again. “Y’know… Well, yeah, you probably know, but I’ll say it anyway: I can’t always be right. I fuck up a lot. Pretty sure I’m gonna do it with you, too.” When Fushimi glanced at him, he was staring forward, shoulders hunched and eyebrows bunched as he worked his with through those musings. “I’m not… I can’t be perfect. I can’t even be like I was before. A lot’s happened.” He took in a long breath, turning his gaze to meet Fushimi’s almost nervously. “I’m not... always strong.” The words were reluctant, almost grudging. “There’s some nights it just hits me all at once, and… ugh.” He blew out the rest of that breath, scowling with clear embarrassment. “And it’s frustrating, but I’m working on it, okay? I wanna be better. But right now, that’s… pretty much all I got.”

‘All’, he says… As if Fushimi hadn’t already decided that he wanted everything Misaki had to offer. Maybe he hadn’t made it clear – or maybe he hadn’t even fully acknowledged it in his own head – but there was no question in his mind that he would take all of it. Misaki’s strengths, Misaki’s weaknesses. His flaws and his charms, his vulnerabilities and his unthinking loyalty, his blunt carelessness and his brash, oblivious nature… And his devastating, heart-rending honesty.

All the little things that annoyed him, all the small points and gestures that lit a fire in his soul. They were part of the same whole, and he wanted to embrace everything that was Misaki and take him in. He wanted to know the shadowed places inside Misaki; to help him navigate them during the times when he got lost. And he thought – he was sure – he wanted to let Misaki into the shadowed places inside himself too. To accept the hand that stretched out towards him, and to offer his own in return.

It was still a frightening thought, opening up that much, but he couldn’t deny the appeal. One day, he thought he could probably manage it.

Well… One thing at a time, I guess.

Making an effort to stem the hint of a tremor in his fingers, Fushimi reached out to deliberately take hold of Misaki’s right hand, raising it enough so that he could bend and press his lips to the center of the mark that mirrored his own. He let the touch linger, lifting his gaze to take in Misaki’s startled face. “I’m fine with this,” he mumbled, lips brushing the skin beneath, “if you are.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, but when it did, Misaki’s eyelids lowered halfway, mouth spreading in a wide, promising smile. The affection and relief in his gaze took Fushimi’s breath away. “You know it!”

“I kinda love you.”

There was still anxiety within him – uncertainty and wariness and maybe a bit of fear – but that pit of dread in his stomach had gone. Fushimi smiled back, not helplessly but consciously, and allowed himself the moment of happiness.

For now, this was enough – and they could work together on the rest.

It was late the next morning when Yata made it to Bar Homra. He and Saruhiko had said their goodbyes early – because of work, as usual – but he’d taken the time to go home and get a change of clothing. It would’ve been weird to show up at Homra in a rented suit. Plus, if he showed up in the same thing he’d worn the night before, it was sorta… well…

Okay, everyone was gonna know what happened anyway, but still!

He felt kinda weird – different, in a way. Not just because of the brand new mark on his right hand, but it was like the experience had changed him. The way most people talked about sex, it was pretty casual – transactional, even, like the act itself was no big deal – but what happened between the two of them somehow… felt bigger.

Well, we are kinda dating now, I guess. The thought brought a grin to his lips, a little well of excitement building within him. They’d made it official before even going to sleep, because he’d wanted to hear it clearly. He was dating Saruhiko.

Maybe that was the big difference.

Yata slowed his skateboard as he approached the familiar building, kicking it up and hefting it easily in his left hand. He reached up to adjust his hat against the glare from the sun, hesitating for a moment as he stood in front of the door.

Gonna have to tell ’em sooner or later. It wasn’t like he could hide it with his hand covered in flowers.

A quick glance down at the mark was enough to steady him – honestly, even if he wasn’t putting a lot of stock in soulmates any more, he got a little guilty pleasure out of the fact that they did have matching marks again. It felt kinda like they were connected, though probably the sex had a lot to do with that. And washing up together. And sleeping in the same bed. And kissing each other goodbye. And… well… okay, dating in general kind of did it. He was happy. And even knowing it was illogical, it felt like the mark was a visible reminder of that bond. It just… helped to look at something that really felt like it reflected back his feelings. Plus, he had good memories associated with those flowers. They’d even helped him figure some stuff out.

So yeah. It was cool.

Squaring his shoulders and drawing up his determination, Yata reached out to pull the door open and step inside. “Yo!”

“Yata-san!” Kamamoto greeted him heartily from a stool at the bar. “Where’d you get off to last night? I was looking around for a while, y’know.”

“Right, sorry.” Yata shrugged, offering a sheepish grin, and glanced around the room. “I kinda got busy with something.”

It was unexpectedly busy inside – well, relatively so, anyway. Fujishima and Eric sat on the couch, a card game of some sort spread out on the coffee table in front of them and Anna hovering over it with interest. Chitose was huddled at a table, nursing a drink – hung over, probably – with an unsympathetic Dewa focused on his PDA in the chair across from him. Bandou and Akagi sat together at the bar, on the opposite side from Kamamoto.

Whoa… everyone’s here today? That was rare…

Kusanagi offered him a smile from behind the bar when his sweeping gaze got to that point. “Nothing troublesome, I hope.” He looked like he was about to say more, but then blinked, looking mildly startled. “Ah…”

He’d noticed, right? Yata reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, feeling the weight of eyes on him as he started to gather the attention of the others in response to that reaction. “Heh… uh…” He lowered the hand again, hunching sheepishly as he held it out. “About this… I mean, well… obviously, right? Hah…”

There was a stark moment of silence in the room as he tried to find the right words.

“Misaki.” Anna’s voice cut into his thoughts abruptly. When he glanced over, startled, he found she’d crossed the room to him sometime while he was fumbling with it, and was giving him an expectant look. “Can I see?”

“Uh. Yeah. I guess.” It wasn’t like he could refuse her anything, even if she wasn’t technically his King any more. Yata felt his cheeks grow warm all the same, holding out his right hand somewhat awkwardly. “Go ahead.”

She took it, bending her head for a better look. Her expression was intent as she studied it, and after a second or two of what felt like tense silence, she extended one small finger to brush lightly along the lines of a petal, a tiny smile building on her lips. “Pretty…”

Not sure if I wanna hear that as a guy… If anything, the rush of uncomfortable warmth rising up his neck got worse. Yata coughed lightly, but didn’t end up having the chance to respond.

“Congrats, Yata-san!” Kamamoto finally shattered the silence around them, jumping up off his stool to stride over and pound him heartily on the back, a broad grin on his face. “That’s great news!”

“Heh.” Chitose had looked up from his drink, a weary but knowing smirk on his face. “So that’s what you meant by ‘got busy’, huh?”

Yata sputtered at that, floundering indignantly for a response. Fuck… I mean, he’s not wrong…

“Seriously?” Bandou squawked, sounding indignant. “Yata found someone before I did? What the hell?”

“San-chan… if you say it like that…”

“Congratulations, Yata-san!”

“Yeah, congrats. Or something.”

“Good for you!”

The sudden influx of comments was almost overwhelming – in a good way. Yata recovered enough to grin back, his earlier embarrassment melting in the face of that familiar sense of comfort at the good will around him. As he was basking in the claps on the back and the enthusiastic words, he somehow caught Kusanagi’s eye from where he’d stayed behind the bar.

His older friend shot him a smile, eyes knowing. “Congratulations,” he offered, in a normal tone that still somehow carried over the ruckus. “Been a long time coming, huh?”

Shoulda figured he’d know. Yata ducked his head, grin turning rueful. “Yeah.” He felt a little sheepish at being seen through, but it wasn’t bad. In a sense, he welcomed it – that someone who knew about him and Saruhiko would wish him well with full sincerity. It was pretty gratifying. “Thanks.”

Given how things had worked out, he couldn’t say he regretted the ‘long time’ part at all.

Fushimi couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted to find himself a pair of gloves before he went into work that morning. The potential inconvenience and the awkward prospect of having to come up with some way to avoid explaining himself had outweighed the potential benefits, but he’d still seriously considered it just to avoid the annoyance that was likely to follow.

Really, it would have been a lot less of a hassle if their marks had been in an easily concealed spot. On his back would have been convenient. Or even his elbow, or on the shoulder. Hands were just too noticeable.

At least it’s not on my face… Even if there were no bad memories associated with that, it would’ve just been too obvious.

It wasn’t like he was ashamed to be dating Misaki. More like the opposite, really – it was hard to believe that was actually where they were now, after everything. Hard to believe that they’d spent an entire night together after having sex, talking about small things in a shared bed until they’d fallen asleep, and then kissed each other goodbye in the morning. The connection between them was unquestionably real, and he still felt that tiny stirring of wonder and cautious happiness when he thought about it. He didn’t mind if everyone knew – at the very least, there’d be no confusion. But at the same time, he didn’t enjoy the attention that was likely to come with the display of a soulmate mark, of all things. That kind of thing really was his own personal business, and not anyone else’s.

Not that this stupid soulmate system cares about things like privacy, huh?

Regardless, trying to hide it was just going to prolong the inevitable. Fushimi frowned to himself, forcing his pace to remain steady as he headed for the workroom. If he didn’t go out of his way to draw attention to it, maybe his co-workers would take the hint and not bring it up.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he was aware that it was an unlikely prospect. Fushimi clicked his tongue, reaching for the door handle. Might as well get this over with.

As luck would have it, only Enomoto, Kamo, and Fuse were in the room when he entered, all bent over their various workstations. Fushimi breathed out slowly, exchanged brief, polite greetings, and sank down at his own machine to check the status of his recent work. He was probably going to be out in the field again, considering how many strains were still either in hiding or waiting to be rehabilitated.

If he was lucky, it’d be by himself. Less stupid questions that way.

The reprieve was short-lived; he’d only just settled in his seat and unlocked his workstation when the door to the room opened and the remaining five members of the Special Operations Unit swarmed into the room, raising the noise level by a multiple of about one hundred.

“Man, why’d we have to be at work so early after a party, huh?” Domyoji complained.

Hidaka huffed a brief laugh. “At least we all got time off to go to the party – that’s kind of amazing with everything going on, don’t you think?”

“Akiyama and Benzai even had to leave early,” Goto put in, mildly. “Did you guys actually sleep?”

“A little,” Akiyama responded ruefully.

“I could go for more.” Benzai’s voice was dry.

“Yeah, I’ll bet!”

Noisy. Fushimi kept his eyes on the monitor, trying to drown out the rest of that inane babble. Learning to care about these idiots did not include automatically being more interested in random conversation, as it turned out. He liked them well enough – when they weren’t going out of their way to annoy him – but he still had no tolerance for time-wasting.

“Oh – Fushimi-san.” Akiyama approached him; when he glanced up, he got a small polite smile. “I was wondering if you could pull up the – ” He stopped. Blinked. And then utterly an uncharacteristically unprofessional, “Ah.”

There it was. Fushimi clicked his tongue, frowning back. “If you have something to ask, go ahead.”

“Eh – no. Sorry.” At once, Akiyama seemed to recover himself, though he looked a little bemused. “I suppose congratulations are in order?”

Wonderful. “Don’t bother.”

“Congratulations for what?” Hidaka shifted in to peer curiously over Akiyama’s shoulder, and abruptly did a double-take. “W-Whoa, Fushimi-san! Is that a – ?”

“Let me see!” Domyoji imposed himself in front of them, leaning in. “Oh – hey, a soulmate mark! Congrats! I’m jealous, Fushimi-san!”

That seemed enough to set off the floodgates.

“Fushimi-san has a soulmate mark?”

“Wait – you mean… our Fushimi-san?”

“You know another one?”

“Ah… no, but…”

“Congratulations, Fushimi-san! That’s great!”

“Seriously, who?”

“Shh!”

“What’s going on in here?” Awashima’s stern voice cut through the babbling voices. When Fushimi glanced over, she was standing at the entrance, hands on her hips and expression critical. Munakata stood directly behind her, straight-backed and unconcerned as always, eyeing them all with what appeared to be great amusement.

Just my luck, I suppose… Fushimi clicked his tongue again. At least the interruption seemed to have stopped people from congratulating him. “Just a bunch of people unable to mind their own business.”

Awashima shot him something of an exasperated look. “That’s not exactly what I – ” Her eyes seemed to catch on his hand then, and he could see them widen slightly. Her tone, when she spoke again, was stunned. “Fushimi… That’s…”

“My, my.” Munakata tilted his head, smiling placidly as he met Fushimi’s flat stare. “It appears that congratulations are indeed in order.” His gaze was knowing. “However, we must not let such matters interfere with our daily tasks. Wouldn’t you agree, Awashima-kun?”

She straightened. “Yes, sir!” Facing the rest of them, she ordered, “You heard the Captain – carry on with your work.”

“Yes ma’am!” was chorused across the room, and that was that.

Well, mostly. As she strode forward, Awashima paused at Fushimi’s desk just long enough to let her expression soften into a small smile. “Congratulations,” she told him in a warmer undertone, and then straightened and carried on. “Enomoto – I’ll need those files I messaged you about.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. I’ve got them!”

As everyone shuffled around to start or continue their work days, a light touch on Fushimi’s shoulder caught his attention again. He looked up to meet his boss’s calm gaze with some surprise. “Captain?”

“A lovely bouquet, Fushimi-kun,” Munakata told him quietly, something a little less amused or interested in his eyes. It felt more like he was delivering a personal exchange than anything. “Be sure to treat it with utmost care.”

Care. Just like all of these well-meaning busybodies around him. Fushimi couldn’t help the small, rueful smile that tugged at his lips, but it didn’t matter. Even through the annoyance, he couldn’t help but continue to do that, could he? All of these idiots were the people he cared about, after all, and he’d look after them even when it was a pain.

And Misaki, of course, was no different. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

He was going to do his best this time, and leave no room for the bigger regrets.

It was well past dark when the gate leading in to Scepter 4 headquarters creaked open, allowing a bespectacled young man in uniform to step through. His shoulders were slightly hunched and his glasses wide-brimmed in an unfashionable style. “You didn’t have to come get me,” he drawled.

Waiting in the shadows for him was another young man, slight and athletic, with a skateboard tucked under one arm. “What, not happy to see me?” he scoffed. “You don’t even know the way to my place, remember?”

“GPS is a thing, Misaki,” the first man said, halting a short ways from the second and reaching up to adjust his glasses. “Anyway, I can follow directions fine.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The second man half-turned, taking a step in the opposite direction and waiting for his fellow to fall in step beside him before continuing. “Let’s get going already. It’s late.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Do you seriously have to make a smartass comment about everything?”

“Maybe…”

The street was empty, the lightning poor as they stepped across the boundary that marked the edge of Scepter 4’s grounds – as the two men walked along next to each other, bantering lightly, their shoulders were close and their hands brushed frequently. The first man’s left and the second man’s right.

Invisible to the casual observer, the marks on those hands could’ve blended together into a single bouquet: imperfect and flawed, but unquestionably beautiful.

#k project #sarumi #yata misaki #fushimi saruhiko #fanfic #fanfic:mine

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