#[ frozen innocence // akira ]

[phntasmgoria]

small starter call for my kemono jihen muses! ( kabane, akira, yui, kon, mihai, kumi, and inari ! ) specify muse on both ends! capping at 4 :)

#[ out of roses // ooc ] #starter call tbt. #[ born from mud and living to destroy // kabane kusaka ] #[ frozen innocence // akira ] #[ frozen guilt // yui ] #[ an obedient kitsune // kon ] #[ a controlling kitsune // yoko inari ] #[ spider mother // kumi ] #[ he who lives in darkness // mihai florescu ]

[pparadiselost]

the gentleman and the lure.

akira kurusu x fem reader you thought your relationship with akira ended five years ago, but a chance encounter with him has you rethinking it all. warning(s): nsfw, timeskip au (akira is 23), reader implied to also be 23 minors do not interact.

in all honesty, you initially thought this whole thing was your eyes playing tricks on you.

but some deeper, unconscious part of you knew otherwise. nothing else, nobody else in this world could make you do a double take in the same you just did, your feet hesitating like an out-of-beat step in the larger waltz from the passersby around you. shibuya is wild like that, demanding your adherence to the dance while setting your imagination free.

you blink. it can’t be him. 

that chapter of your life had closed five years ago, and you were now preoccupied with finding your place in the world. it had taken a lot of time, a lot of anger and bargaining, a lot of unspoken grief and nights sobbing into your pillow wondering if there was anything you could have done to change the outcome, but ultimately, time proved to be the most effective medicine. you closed that part of your youth with a bittersweet tinge in your memories, and you tucked it somewhere close to your heart to savor on nights whenever drinking alone wasn’t enough to plunge you fully into the depths of your personal melancholy.

but it is him. 

wavy tufts of midnight black hair, smooth skin like a greek statue come to life, and sleek black glasses frames that only momentarily hide the big innocent doe eyes that make you stop dead in your tracks.

your throat clamps down on itself. the cacophony of the city suddenly mutes itself in your ears, and you can’t hear any of it. none of the footsteps, the voices, the honking of cars and the blasting advertisements, the chirping of pigeons, everything becomes completely obsolete as you struggle to even breathe. you want to say something, to even get a pathetic squeak out, but it’s as if every part of your mind shut down instantly, and you realize you were rendered frozen.

the man standing a few feet away from you also does a double take, and a few annoyed pedestrians storm between the two of you. but he doesn’t move and neither do you.

“is… is that you? is that who i think it is?” he steps closer, and you can make out his soft voice. his lips are a gentle shade of cherry red, and you’re suddenly aware of how much taller he is than from when you last remember. 

your eyes tremble when you finally let yourself take a good look at him, and despite the initial features that caught you like a deer in headlights, you also notice that he’s changed more than you thought. he’s definitely older. his features are sharper. his chest is a bit bigger and shoulders a bit broader, jawline more defined and the once-cherubic roundness in his eyes have honed themselves into something more adult-like.

your heart skips a beat.

“it is you.” there’s nowhere else for you to run now, now that he has you within arm’s reach. you’re still dumbstruck, the million thoughts in your mind unable to string themselves into tangible words, and you’re scared that this chance will slip out of your hands and become something you regret for the rest of your life. but at the same time, there’s too much emotion overwhelming you, almost like the entire passage of time spiel was rapidly unraveling in your head.

your tongue is a deadweight on the inside of your mouth, and yet when he reaches out to grab you, his hand wrapping around your arm and tugging you in his direction, leading you out of the middle of the crosswalk and towards the safety of the sidewalk, all you can conjure up is a surprised gasp. you sound like a wounded animal, but you let the dark-haired man whisk you away, your legs and feet stumbling behind you as if he was a puppeteer and you, the puppet.

it’s only when he takes you to a more secluded area, the mouth of an alley a little tucked away, do you manage to eke out your first words to him.

your voice shakes. you sound like you’re about to cry. you feel like you’re about to cry. “k… kurusu.”

he laughs under his breath, and hearing it makes you want to throw up on your own feet. you’ve craved that sound for so long. it haunts your dreams, your waking moments, the breakdowns you might have had when you stayed up past your bedtimes and let your mental demons claw too long at you. 

“that’s me.”

he pauses for a second, and he glances at you almost sheepishly. he is older, but he’s definitely still very young. probably around 23, most likely fresh out of college, maybe looking for his first job out in the real world, going through the same growing pains as you are right now. he still retains that boyish charm you ascribed to him in your brain, and you see it clearly through his big angelic eyes.

“it’s been a while, hasn’t it? i’m sorry. i should apologize for that,” he starts calmly, “i didn’t mean to lose contact with so many people after i moved back home all that time back… especially with you.”

what were you supposed to say? the path of least resistance would be to lie and say that it was alright that you let him go, that you spent your time alone practically torturing yourself over a love that could no longer be. but it wasn’t like you could suddenly dump all of that, especially within the first few minutes of meeting him again, and it wasn’t like your body was being particularly cooperative either.

you hold your breath. he waits a beat, and then he rummages through his pocket and extends his phone towards you.

“here. i wish i had more time to catch up with you. i’m getting back from my lunch break right now, so i can’t stick around. but put in your information, and if you’re willing, i really want to take some time and talk to you again.” his black eyes are on you again, and you can see your startled reflection staring back from his irises. “would you be okay with that?”

you’re a person haunted. possessed. you wordlessly take his phone from his hands, and you methodically type your information in. you give it back to him without much more fanfare, and only then does he allow himself a smile.

his fingers brush across yours, and the spark that shoots straight to your stomach leaves you reeling. your heart sinks like a rock when you see his happy face. his smile is beautiful and poised, and it’s nothing short of a lethal poison to your consciousness.

“thanks. i have to run now, but i’ll contact you as soon as i can. it… it’s a miracle to see you again. i didn’t think a day like this would come.” he admits. he shifts his weight slightly, and he rechecks his watch before nodding apologetically at you. “i know it’s long overdue to say something like this, but… take care of yourself. i’ll see you soon.”

maybe in another life, you would have reached out and grabbed him by the back of his cardigan to yank him back towards you. maybe in another life, you would have followed him out to the train station that had stolen him out of your life and whisked him home, condemning you to a solitude you couldn’t wish upon anyone. maybe in another life, you were a different person that he might have considered worthwhile to keep a connection going, instead of forcing you to spiral and wonder if this was a love worth fighting for. 

but it all comes crumbling when you see him dash away. you see the lush glimmer of his black hair as it bounces with his steps, long legs striding across the white paint of the crosswalks. if you were doomed to be the tragic side character stuck behind the whims of a cruel writer’s desires and fate, longing for the warmth of recognition, then this man is undoubtedly the protagonist, always just slightly out of the reach of your outstretched fingers.

the rest of shibuya closes in on him like a curtain call, the people of the city drowning out your vision of him like waves crashing down, and you’re left alone as the overwhelming and biting loneliness wraps its arm around you and chokes you from the inside out. 

…

…

…

how could you describe akira kurusu? there was no easy label to slap onto everything that went down five years ago, back when you were both young and in high school and didn’t know any better. all the lovebirds on your social media apps threw around these buzzwords like situationship, delusionalship, this and that, but you hate the thought of defining what you and akira had with something so soulless. so simple.

but at the same time, you couldn't deny the truth that whatever you and akira had wasn’t clearly defined either. there were no labels despite the complexity of the relationship, and it was every bit ambiguous as the same situations everyone else bemoaned about their lackluster love lives.

it was this ambiguity that proved to be the stalker at the foot of your bed each and every night.

you two were schoolmates. you tutored him a few times. went on dates with him a few times. slept with him a few times. you two had a relationship in every sense but the label, and you had learned to foster intense and real feelings for him. you’d listen to his heartbeat while curled up in his little bed in leblanc’s attic, and you’d wake up to him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while you’d pretend to sleep so you could cuddle him a bit longer.

but just as quickly as it seemed to begin, his probation was done, and he left tokyo before you could find any way to cling to him even across all the distance. you had hoped that he’d reach out to you in some way and let you know that you weren’t entirely delusional in believing that you had something special with him, but the long stretches of silence made you realize harshly that there was nothing for you to cling to anymore.

you’d even turn up to leblanc by yourself a few times, and sojiro would shoot you a few glances. but you never mentioned akira to him, and the old man never mentioned akira to you either. it was a silent understanding between the two of you as sojiro fixed you a cup of coffee the way you liked it, that neither of you had been successful in hearing from akira.

“so,” his calm voice shakes you from your thoughts. you’re no longer in high school and crying on your bedroom floor over your boyfriend-not-boyfriend who moved back home. you don’t feel much more adult than your teenager self, but you’re sitting at a table across from akira, who’s busy scrutinizing the menu in his hands.

you reach for the glass of water to your right and take an impatient sip. your mouth feels dry, and it’s a good tactic for you to fully avoid conversation for a little while. just a few days prior, akira had reached out to you through the newly acquired number he got from you, and he had asked you to get dinner with him like he said he would. 

you should have known that this would open up old wounds, but the “what if” that nagged in your head had you accepting his offer before you could fully think it through. 

could you even call it an offer though? without any real string attached? this was exactly the same way he would unofficially ask you out when the two of you were young. you two would romp all over shibuya, eating yummy snacks and doing all sorts of dumb things, too drunk in each other’s presence to really take in the world around them.

“does anything catch your eye? i heard that this place was pretty good through the grapevine,” he admits. he glances up from his menu and smiles shyly, and you almost choke mid-swallow on your mouthful of water. it’s just so unfair how deceptively pretty he is, despite the fact that the word handsome would be more suitable for a young man he is, but you know better than to think that you could ever resist his sparkling eyes.

you set your glass down. “i’ve never been here before, so… you know this place better than i do. i suppose we can ask the waiting staff here for recommendations.”

he closes the menu. “that sounds like a good idea. do you want something other than water to drink? there’s no need to be polite—this dinner is my treat. oh, don’t make that face. i was the one who invited you out, so it’s only fair that i treat you.”

were you making a face? you bit back the urge to touch your face and hide your expression behind your hands. this really felt too much like a date, and despite the walls you wanted to put back up to fend akira off, his subtle ways of peppering you with the attention you craved so badly deep down through what felt like small talk was a bit too smooth for your liking. did he do this often with other romantic prospects while he was gone? what other people did he take an interest in since the last time you had seen him? god, did he butter others up as he was with you?

you push those negative thoughts out of your head. his five years of silence spoke enough for itself, and you scold yourself internally. you should know better than to swoon over your long lost first love again, and for you, the purpose of this dinner was for you to find closure. you didn’t want to open a door to your heart for him too quickly again, lest he end up slamming it back in your face once more.

the silence between the two of you became uncomfortable. you gather your courage, soothing over the uneasy heartbeat rattling at your ribcage, and you look at him pointedly. “...i wanted to ask this last time, but i didn’t get a chance to. how have you been, kurusu?”

he stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head when his last name leaves your mouth. he leans forward and places his elbows on the table, and he folds his hands, palms down, so he can place his chin on his intertwined fingers. “kurusu? you called me that when i ran into you.”

“what else would i call you?” you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of calling him akira just yet. calling him by his first name was something personal, something intimate. it was a title reserved for people close to each other, and while you might not have hesitated had the two of you retained your relationship from before, right now, he was nothing more than a stranger to you. 

he’s horrendously perceptive, and akira shrugs. “you know what to call me.”

your stomach does a flip, and you don’t want to give him more of an opening to flirt with you. it feels as if he’s stabbing you emotionally and twisting the knife into your heart, making sure you can feel the yearning and the pain in every tendon, muscle, and sinew of your being. “why are you in shibuya again?”

he pushes back against his seat slightly, his long fingers wrapping themselves against the edge of the table. “job hunting. i graduated university fairly recently, and i need to keep myself afloat. i figured a big city would have some good opportunities. and besides…”

he trails off slightly, and as much as you hate it, you’re pretty sure you can predict his next words. this place is like a second home to him. he has history here, connections, something that could serve as the foot-in-the-door for his future. he stretches his neck a little, and his jet black hair catches and twinkles like the remnants of starlight under the dim light of the restaurant.

“i’m a little picky about what i do.” his gaze is on you again. “you of all people should know that i’m not the kind of guy to be a corporate slave. i know having the ability to choose is a luxury in a society like this, but i can try, can’t i?”

you wish he wouldn’t say that. you wish you didn’t know him so well. you wish he would stop assuming that you did. you curl your fist in your lap under the table. big emotions swirl in your chest: regret, desperation, anger, but above all, a sense of foolishness for thinking that maybe, just maybe, your desire for him wasn’t as unfounded as you believed it to be. 

“c’mon,” he urges. he leans in, and his voice quiets itself. “there’s a lot i have to explain to you. i… i know there’s a lot i did you wrong by. but that’s why i’m here, aren’t i? won’t you give me another chance?”

your heart plunges into your stomach when you hear the sweet cadences of his softened words. the same tones as the dulcet “good morning”s he’d whisper to you after a romantic night, the “get home safe”s he’d wish you when he’d drop you off at your train station late at night, the same whispered words from a lifetime past. he can definitely sense you wavering, the fear in your eyes, the misery that he single-handedly caused. 

your lips quiver. the wise thing would be to not answer him, but could you really bear to do that? to sit in silence and close that door. this whole thing could backfire on you and leave you even more broken than he did before, but the gnawing in your gut tells you the very thing you had feared from yourself. 

you were still in love with akira kurusu. you had always been.

“d-don’t make me answer that.” you hang your head. akira hums softly, and he pushes away from you again, lengthening the distance between you and him across the table by just a few more inches so you could breathe. 

“well… you have the rest of the evening to think about it.” he raises his hand, smoothly waving someone from the waiting staff over. he looks to you through the corner of his eye, and when your eyes meet, he resembles less of the boy you once loved and more like a gentleman this time around, still craving to get his paws all over your love and steal it away selfishly for himself, but with more of a dangerous edge to it. like a blade hidden behind a pretty wrapper, you know his aim was to always gun straight for your heart. 

his eyes narrow slightly. his lips part ever so slightly, as beautiful as the day five years ago you had given him your last kiss. 

“but at the very least… why don’t you give ‘us’ another chance?”

…

…

…

“...thank you for dinner. it was very lovely.”

“there’s really no need to thank me. think nothing of it. like i said, it was the least i could do for you.” akira rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. the night air is cool against your face as the night settles down on the busy city. there’s the distant honking of horns, an ever present reminder to you that the inhabitants of shibuya never truly sleep. the world is constantly moving around you, just like time, whether you like it or not.

the sun is long gone, and the bright city lights replace its glamor. they almost remind you of stars if you let your vision unfocus, but right now, the floor is suddenly the most interesting thing you’ve seen in your entire life.

“if that’s all… i should be on my way before it gets much darker.” if you could run away from the entrance of the restaurant, you would do so in a heartbeat. you want to go home and lock yourself in your bedroom and sob your eyes out into your pillows, undoubtedly over all of the reopened wounds and over your own cowardice in regards to how to face akira. it was like whenever you made the resolve to get over him, he’d romp around your mind, and whenever you tried to play into his game, he’d simply turn the tables on you.

he glances at you. disappointment tinges his features, and it’s enough to make your heart squeeze with a bit of a painful pang. “already…? i was going to ask you if you wanted to do this again. i’ll be around the city for a little bit, and i really enjoyed myself.”

you stop dead in your tracks. it’s a bad idea to accept, but you can’t bear to do it when he’s looking at you with those big, wide eyes. it’s his ultimate weapon, paired best with his quick mind. he knows how to get you to crumble, to make your own mind turn against you, and you’re hesitating again. akira has you dancing in the palm of your hand all so effortlessly. 

it’s best for you to be ambiguous. just because he can see all of your cards doesn’t mean that he can predict the way you’ll choose to play them. “i’ll see when i have time in my schedule and get back to you.”

he looks at you as if he’s unconvinced with your lackluster answer, but he’s smart. he chooses not to press you further about it. after all, cornered prey tend to get the most defensive, and he would much rather that you walk willingly into his honeyed traps. 

“y’know… are you busy right now then? i’ve got a bit of a hankering for something after such a nice dinner, and my place isn’t too far off from here.” he moves closer to you, and your heart leaps into your throat at the sudden proximity. he smiles gently at you, almost too innocent for your own good. “i’ve been practicing brewing coffee all this time. i could fix you a nice cup. it’ll be a lot better than all the shitty ones i’d make you drink when we were both in high school. do you still like your coffee the same as you did back then? c’mon, it’s just one cup. i’ll make it worth your while.”

you should be wiser. sharper. stricter. but akira looks like a kicked puppy, and he also looks like he’s about to grab onto your wrist and beg on his knees if you were to give him the cold shoulder and leave. there’s a sticky lump in the back of your throat that won’t go away no matter how much you swallow, and you wonder if giving in to him would make the uneasiness in your stomach go away. would it be worth it?

“...you said your place wasn’t far?” the words coming from your mouth feel like a death sentence. the black-haired man instantly lights up, and he nods enthusiastically. 

“just a couple of minutes. follow me. i promise i won’t make you regret this.” he reaches for your hand, and sparks shoot across your body when his long fingers wrap around yours, tugging you closer to his side. your stomach plummets, and you’re struck with the horrifying revelation that his hands feel so right intertwined with yours. it reminds you too closely of when he was yours, of when you’d walk side-by-side as if you were a real couple. 

you can barely remember the walk to his place. you vaguely recall crossing a few streets, your attention too transfixed on the man guiding you. you stumble up a few apartment steps, your heartbeat hammering in between your ears and stirring up a storm in your temples as he fumbles with his front keys, swinging his door open too eagerly, and practically shoving you into his apartment suite. 

your throat tightens up for the millionth time that night when the first thing you can make out from his doorway is how much his apartment simply smells like him. it hasn’t changed in five years; he still smells exactly like the way he would when you’d nuzzle into the crook of his neck all those years ago.

“it’s not anything special.” he comes up from behind you, kicking his shoes off before straightening them by the entrance. “but it’s perfect for someone living alone. i promise it’s normally a lot cleaner than i have it right now, so ignore anything that… might be a bit messy. y’know how it is with us men and living alone.”

you barely respond to his joke as you slide your own shoes off, stuck in basically a trance-like state. you trace your eyes over every part of his tiny apartment: the pictures hung up on his wall, the coats hanging from the closet with the door slid halfway open, the mismatched bits of furniture he most definitely got second hand. despite his warning, his place is maintained nicely and clean, nothing short of what you’d expect from someone as surprisingly prim and proper as him. he’s a gentleman to his core. 

he leads you to his living room, where you can get a pretty good glimpse of his small kitchen. his place is rather intimate, cozy, the kind of place that feels like it was made to welcome you. you barely keep yourself from curling your hands into fists to keep them from shaking, and you focus your mind on the details you can see as you sink down into his couch.

“stay right there.” akira pads into the kitchen, and he opens his cabinets to rummage for his supplies. “i’m going to break out the really fancy coffee cups, just for you. sojiro never taught me this part specifically, but i’m pretty sure he’d rip my teeth out if i served my coffee to a pretty lady in a regular cup.”

you almost stop breathing when he slips in a compliment so nonchalantly. you want to scold him and tell him to quit doing things like that. it’s bad for your resolve, and you hate to think about how he managed to get this smooth while you were gone. you gnaw on your tongue as akira hums to himself, working his magic with the beans of his choice. soon enough, the mature aroma of coffee stains the air, wafting like a magic spell towards you and intermingling with his scent. you could get drunk off a smell like this, entranced and held captive in place without a single restraint to physically hold you down.

you’re so caught up in savoring this nice atmosphere, irregardless of the weird tension mounting the back of your mind, that you barely catch akira as he brings you a fancy cup filled with freshly made coffee. he has a matching one for himself, a pair finely decorated porcelain cups that feature what looks like a painted couple in old rococo-esque clothes. they’re definitely meant to be used together, probably best for a couple. you don’t really get the chance to overthink it too much, as he hands you one and keeps one for himself. you mumble a shy word of thanks as you warm your hands against the glass.

your reflection stares back at you when you glance over the rim. the color is dark yet refined, like you’re staring into a rippling lake rather than a cup of coffee. it smells even more delicious now that it’s up close, and it feels like a shame to drink it. it makes you wish that you were a coffee connoisseur in the way that akira is, like you’re unfit to be able to appreciate the art that comes with making a beautiful cup of coffee.

“i made it just the way i remember you to like it. but better, of course, now that i have more practice under my belt. i know what i’m doing with my coffee now. go ahead. try it, and let me know what you think.” akira encourages you. his eyes are twinkling in clear excitement. you peek at him and then back at your dumbfounded self staring back in the coffee.

you bring the cup to your lips and take a tentative sip, not wanting to burn yourself. a rich and deep flavor, bitter and yet delectable, coats your tongue and the inside of your cheeks. it slips down your throat easily, warming you up from the inside and out and taking away the tension building up in your body straight away. you let out a small sigh of happiness as you take the cup away from your lips, and you’re pretty sure your contentment is written all over your face.

he grins. “good, isn’t it? i knew you’d like this one. i’ll spare you all the details about the beans i’ve used since you probably don’t want to hear it. but have as much as you’d like. nothing makes a man prouder than knowing that he’s made his girl happy.”

there it is again. you look down at your coffee cup with mixed feelings stirring in your heart. but the atmosphere right now is too good for you to want to ruin it. you want to savor what little sweetness you can steal from him. you’ve willingly walked into the lion’s den, and if you’re staring directly into doom’s maw, the very least you could do was to find some enjoyment in it. 

so instead you simply lift the cup, pretend you’re gulping back any regrets and doubts in your mind, and take another generous mouthful of the coffee akira’s specially brewed for you.

…

…

…

“ohhhh- ah- fuck- wait, d-don’t touch me there like that…!”

your body twists violently against his bed, and akira laughs softly against your ear. his grip on you from behind is tight, and no matter how much you thrash against his chest, he refuses to let go of you. your skin is hot despite the cool fabric of his sheets, and it feels like your body’s going to completely give out on you.

you already knew from the start that his coy invitation for coffee was just bait for him to lure you into his bed. but even with that knowledge, there’s something about being stuck back in a lewd embrace with him again that has your stomach coiling in with both excitement and shame. both of your clothes are strewn against his floor, and his cheap mattress creaks as if annoyed whenever you writhe in his arms.

“you’ve changed so much during the time i took my eyes off of you.” one hand gropes shamelessly at your bare tits, sighing when he feels the plush flesh of your chest fill out his palms. his fingers play with your erect nipples, applying just the slightest bit of pressure all to get you to cry out and throw your head back against his bare chest. “and yet… all of your sensitive parts haven’t changed whatsoever. you’ve missed me, haven’t you?”

you don’t have any words for something like that. your lips are swollen from how much he’s kissed you, the small talk about coffee nothing more than an overture for him to lead you into his bedroom, effortlessly coaxing your clothes off of you and indulging in your body again. you hate how well he meshes with your body, how responsive you are to his physical touches, as if you’ve been waiting for this as much as he was.

“i asked you a question.” his sharp voice cuts through the haze in your thoughts, and you shudder when his other hand snakes down your stomach. one knee expertly separates your legs, and a moan builds up in the back of your throat when he starts playing with your wetness. 

akira is a tease through and through. he slides his fingers up and down your slit, and you let out an embarrassed squeak, wanting to cover your face. your juices cover his digits, and heat throbs in your core and pulses under the skin of your face when you register the slick sounds your folds make. 

fuck—were you really that aroused already? 

“so wet… and all we did was kiss. are you that turned on from just that? you’re rather naughty, aren’t you?” he looks at you with words that are nothing like how sweet his eyes are. your voice dies out in your mouth as his fingers start to circle around your pulsing hole, almost like it’s a silent reminder of how much easy access he has to your body.

it’s not fair how easily he can get you to physically succumb to him. this was definitely your fault; you refused any other romantic prospects ever since akira left you, which meant that it had been five long years where your only sexual release was whatever you had to offer to yourself. and with how badly you’ve been pining after him, it was safe to say that touching yourself came nowhere close to having akira’s hands wandering all over your body again.

you yelp when he bites down slightly at your ear, his sharp incisors nipping carefully at the thin skin.

“i want an answer,” he demands breathlessly. “you’ve always been so shy… that part of you hasn’t changed at all.”

“d-don’t make me answer that…!” you choke out. your voice is high-pitched and strained, nothing like the collected facade you had shown him during dinner. he pinches your swollen clit, and pleasure stabs at your stomach. you arch your back against his chest, another desperate cry escaping you. he’s good at this little back and forth, flickering between torturing your clit to rubbing loving circles into your sticky nub. your pussy convulses, and your inner walls are drooling to be fucked out and stuffed with his cock. your body’s missed his touches almost as much as you have emotionally, and the fact that he’s experienced with your body does nothing in your favor.

he presses his lips into the gentle curve of your face, kissing you over and over again. his kisses are so sweet and chaste, unlike the way he toys with your lower half. your hole flutters and dances around his fingertips, leaking like a broken faucet, your pussy telling him everything you refuse to verbalize. he knows how much you want him to fuck you, but he also knows how stubbornly shy you can get. and he also knows that sex is so much more fun when he can peel back all of your walls to get you right where he wants you.

“you’re going to have to answer me, you know,” he purrs. the vibrations reverberate against his chest and towards your bare back. “a gentleman would never do something his lady doesn’t want to do. you can thank sojiro for that.”

you squeeze your thighs slightly around his wrist, and you shudder. “please… don’t do this to me… it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s only me… you’ve slept with me before. why so shy now?” his tongue laps at the shell of your ear, and another shiver runs down your spine when his warm tongue captures your sensitive skin, licking against the thin skin and making your pussy clamp up unintentionally. “unless…? don’t tell me. is there another guy you’ve been doing this with?”

you shake your head vehemently. you wouldn’t ever dream about fucking someone that isn’t akira kurusu.

“like i said, it’s- it’s embarrassing…!!” you breathe. his hands feel so good, touching you all over from behind. you can feel him grinding his hard-on against your ass, and your throat constricts on itself when you feel how big and thick he is. he was always well-built even when you fucked him during your teenage years, but in your memory, he wasn’t this big… your cunt throbs painfully with anticipation at the thought of being stretched out on such a big cock after such a long dry spell, and the arousal swirling slowly in your stomach pleads with you to set your pride aside just this once.

he sighs against your ear. he’s disgustingly sensual, that stupid akira, and his words are honeyed and sensual. “it’s only me… c’mon, all you need to say is that you want me. ‘please fuck me, akira! please fuck me with your cock! i want it inside my pussy!’ that's all you need to say. not too hard now, hm? i basically told you what you needed to say.”

heat burns at your cheeks, and there’s a lump in the back of your throat. you want it, you want to do everything he just said so badly. you want him to pin you down to his cheap mattress and fuck the daylights out of you, until you can’t feel your legs and you can let go of all the emotional baggage you built up. the shame and the embarrassment grip in between your hips, and you swallow back whatever hesitation swims in your gullet.

“p-please fuck me, akira…,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “i want you inside me… want your cock inside my pussy…”

“hm? what was that? i could barely hear you.” akira presses harshly against your clit. you let out a loud yelp, electric pleasure jolting up in your pussy. “see? i know you’re capable of being much louder with that pretty voice of yours…��

if looks could kill, you would have murdered akira in your bed with the glare you shot him. he blinks innocently at you, a small grin poised on his lips. this is a battle you can’t win, unless you want to leave his house unsatisfied and unable to do anything about the throbbing deep inside your gut.

“please fuck me, akira!” you make sure your words are pointed. “i-i want you to fuck me! please put your cock inside my- my pussy…!”

he laughs under his breath and rewards you with a kiss, even though you’re flushing with heat and wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. “oh, i’ll gladly do that, sweetheart. that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

you bite back your complaints, heart thumping wildly inside of your chest. his erection prods against your thighs, and you part them wider so he can slot himself from behind. you swallow again when his cock slides up and down your slit, and your vision spins when he grinds up against your pussy. his fingers continue to rub and play with your clit, making sure that you don’t get even a second of rest from him.

his pre-cum stained cockhead prods naughtily at your fluttering hole. you take in a deep breath as he presses his tip against the tight ring of muscle. his dark eyes peer at you. “ready, my pretty girl?”

you nod, and a moan immediately lodges itself inside your mouth when he pushes himself in. he’s slow, painstakingly slow, when he pushes himself in. it’s like he wants you to feel every inch of his length, reminding you of everything you’ve missed, of how good it felt to have his cock penetrating you again after so long. akira hisses through his teeth, pushing his cock into your cunt, fighting past through all of the hot and wet tightness, and it takes all of his self-restraint not to empty his balls into your pussy right there and then.

“shit…,” he says breathlessly, “were you always this tight…? fuck- your pussy’s clenching all over my dick… can’t get enough of me now, can you?”

you focus on your breathing, trying to relax your body. a dull sense of pleasure pricks at your brain, and it spreads and trickles under your skin as if it’s a droplet of blood pooling at your fingertip and dripping down. your stomach curls in on itself, and even when you were bracing yourself for the stretch, feeling it all anew feels like it’s blowing your brains out.

“ah-,” you exhale shakily, trembling in his arms, “s-so big…”

“yeah?” he sounds strained too, his cock twitching dangerously against its tight restraints. “‘ve missed this pretty pussy so much, love. i knew you weren’t someone i could just let go willy-nilly. i’ve got you now, pretty, all in my arms.”

you hum, savoring the sensation of your plush walls stretching out to fit his cock, his balls tensed up at your entrance. he hadn’t started moving yet and you were this starstruck over his dick. how the hell were you going to live through the whole ordeal? it didn’t matter. even this much felt good and had you writhing like a lithe cat against his chest, your curves slotting straight into his wandering hands like two matching pieces of a puzzle.

“y-you feel different,” you mumble as one hand ghosts over your chest and the other makes its place in between your thighs again. a whimper bubbles up inside of you when he goes back to rubbing slow circles into your clit, your pussy clenching up and massaging his dick as arousal shoots through your stomach. 

“mhm? tell me about it.” he draws his hips back carefully, and you can hear him let out a haggard exhale when your walls cling to him, not wanting to let his cock go. the friction has you seeing stars in your mind, your brain threatening to melt into goo. he’s still incredibly slow as he pushes back into you, giving your body a chance to catch up, but even at this pace, his thrusts are deep and full.

you shouldn’t stroke his ego, but you wouldn’t be lying if you said that the five years you spent apart from him did change him. maybe you also had gone too long without him and the withdrawal had changed you too. “i don’t know… you feel bigger- feels good inside me…”

“yeah? keep talking to me then. i missed that sweet voice of yours.” his eyelids flutter when your walls twist around him, your greedy pussy eagerly sucking him in deeper and swallowing him in. “ohhhh, fuck…! shit, you feel so fucking good- so fucking tight… haven’t had your pussy in way too long…”

your chest tightens, and you can feel your breathing growing shaky. his thrusts are slowly getting faster, finding a groove that has your thoughts quivering with each snap of his hips. you’re hypersensitive to how he feels inside of you. you can feel everything, and your pussy remembers again how good it felt to have him fucking you. he remembers too, the angles that you liked and just how deep he needed to fuck into you to get you to squeal. and speak of the devil-

“-!! akira!! n-not there, akira! s-so deep-!” your words start slurring together. pleasure rips through your pussy as he effortlessly locates your sweet spot again and starts bullying your deepest parts with his cockhead. “i-if you keep fucking me like that, you’re gonna make me cum…!”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing,” akira chuckles. his dark curls sweep against his forehead, eyes hiding behind the wisps of midnight black hair. “what if that’s what i want you to do? what kind of man leaves his girl unsatisfied? it’s only fun when you’re feeling good… i want to see if i can still get you to crumble after all these years.”

you hiccup as he keeps fucking into you. you can’t think properly, not when he’s hitting your sweet spot without any issue, each thrust forcing his cockhead to slam into your g-spot right on. he keeps playing with your clit, moving in rhythm with his thrusts so that you don’t get even a moment’s worth of reprise. your chest is tight, and your breathing is ragged, your brain only managing to hang on just to get enough oxygen to your fluttering heart.

“yeah, you like it when i touch you like this, don’t you?” akira sounds so full of himself as he practically purrs at you like a cat. he wasn’t lying when he said he missed your body; his cock keeps drooling inside of you. your juices intermingle and mix, acting as the perfect lubricant for him. each snap of his hips is faster and harder, and your mind keeps lighting up with sparks of pleasure as his cock stretches you out. “that’s my girl. ‘m so glad i got your attention again. life is just too boring without you here… ‘m not gonna leave you again, you hear? i made that mistake once. i’m not gonna make it twice.”

“akira!” you scream out, unable to hold yourself back. so much for that rightful fear of yours. you could never resist him, not when he’s saying the very things you dreamt of for five years straight, consoling yourself with no one at your side, just imagining how things might be different if he had wanted you as much as you wanted him.

and now he does. now he’s gripping onto your body, making you twist and turn with pleasure, completely at his mercy with your legs spread apart and your cunt stretched out his girthy cock. the squelching noises as his cock slides in and out of you are downright obscene, and you can’t remember the last time you had gotten this shamelessly wet. not even masturbating had your pussy this excited; your fingers could never replace what real dick did for your cunt.

“there we go. that’s my name,” he praises you. “scream it all you want for me. i want to hear your pretty voice. it makes me feel really good when i hear you crying out my name… it’s like you know that i’m your man. only me. not anybody else.”

you shudder, his dirty talk making your stomach furl in on itself. you hate that silken tongue of his, how he can say such sweet things to you and yet turn you on so badly. you’re glad that he likes you this much; otherwise, you don’t even want to think about what other embarrassing things he might make you do for his own entertainment. this is his version of playing nice. you’re lucky that he considers himself a gentleman and would do anything for your pleasure. 

the lewd sounds of lovemaking and skin against skin quickly fill the room, and he’s thrusting into you just the way you like it. he wasn’t lying when he said he remembered every detail of your sensitive body. he was so good at playing with your body that it almost felt like you were being attacked at all angles. he was showering your nipples and clit with attention, his lips chasing after your body and pressing sticky kisses all over whatever patches of bare skin he could reach. he’d lean his head to make out with you too, eating up your moans as you cry into his mouth, his tongue swirling against yours and making you almost collapse into a heap of sweaty limbs and lovejuices out of how good it was.

“so tight… yeah, you like it like this, don’t you? my cock is the best, isn’t it? you keep clenching up around me, pretty girl,” he breathes. his words are velvety and dark, and whenever he slips his tongue into your mouth, he tastes so addictively good. “i can feel how much your pussy wants me… even if you’re committed to being this shy, your body tells me everything i need to know.”

“don’t say things like that…!” you somehow force your words out through gritted teeth. “i already told you, it’s embarrassing!”

his lips curl into a cruel smile as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, clearly enjoying the way he’s making you squirm. if there’s one thing akira loves, it’s putting you in the hotseat and knowing that he has this kind of effect on you. “is it though? i’m only telling the truth.”

he pinches at your clit at the same time he thrusts up harshly into you, and you let out a breathless shriek as red-hot pleasure rams into your gut. your inner walls clamp down unconsciously onto his dick, gripping onto every inch of his cock. your cervix milks and massages his tip, your pussy pleading desperately to be filled up with both his cock and his cum. 

“just like that.” he sounds so pleased with himself. akira isn’t the kind of guy to get a big head and walk around as if he ruled the place, but he wasn’t one to let any of his victories just slide past. “see? that pretty pussy of yours won’t lie to me.”

your stomach won’t stop lurching with each rough thrust. the heat deep inside of you keeps coiling into painful knots, and you think you’re going to lose your mind. all you can think about is how good it feels to have akira messing up your insides, your walls squelching and molding itself to the shape of his cock. the pleasure is mind-numbing in every sense of the word, and your brain keeps devouring all of the sensations flickering underneath your skin. he knows how to get you aroused too easily, and he makes sure you feel everything he’s doing to you. whether it’s speeding up or slowing down, egging you on with your most sensitive parts, he doesn’t give you an opportunity to really catch up with him. 

“feels good- feels so good-,” your words are starting to melt together incoherently, all of the overwhelming sensations getting the better of you. “if you keep fucking me like that, you’re gonna make me cum…”

“oh, silly girl, we’ve talked about this already.” he kisses your shoulder, and your mouth goes dry when the tip of his sharp teeth ghosts over your exposed skin. “i already told you that that was my goal from the very start. i wanna see my girl cum all over my cock, just like you used to do. you’d make the prettiest noises as you came… are you going to moan for me like that again? or are you going to get shy? do i have to fuck the moans out of you?”

you whimper helplessly, cunt tightening up. you hate how much that turns you on, how much letting him have his way with you has you melting like putty. you must have more of a masochistic side than you’re willing to admit, given how much you get off on having akira manhandle you. 

“don’t be mean to me… you’re so mean…,” you eke out weakly. 

“i’m not being mean. if anything, you’re the mean one… is it too much for a man to want to see how good he’s making his girl feel? i want to see your face twisted in pleasure, your voice all ruined for me, your body all messed up because of me…,” he hums to himself. the lump in the back of your throat is there again, and as if to accentuate his point, he thrusts sharply into you. 

a shockwave of heat shreds you from the inside out, and you arch your back harshly. he keeps torturing you like this. is this his way of edging you? keeping you this close to the edge and telling you about how much he wants to make you cum but not really letting you? akira loves how responsive your pussy is, how you keep milking his cock and fluttering all excitedly around him whenever he whispers about all the lewd things he wants to do to you. your thighs won’t stop shaking, and your juices are dripping everywhere, coating his balls and trickling down your skin and messing up his sheets. 

you’re going to cum soon. your body feels weak and flushed all at once, and heat keeps mounting wildly inside of you. you can’t keep up with everything akira’s doing to you, and no matter how much he’s teasing you and whispering all sorts of dirty things into your ear, all of it is going straight into making your pussy feel good. your cunt won’t quit sucking him in, instantly hooked on the feeling of having your ex-fling’s cock stuffing it again. 

you’re better than this. you know that, and yet you’re not above falling prey to akira’s words and honeyed traps. he’s spun a perfect web to ensnare you in, and you never stood a chance. he has you right where he wants you. 

and you look so, so beautiful to him. he can feel how close you are. your pussy keeps pulsing and squeezing around his length, and your moans are growing more and more desperate. your eyes have lost focus a long time ago, but he knows that if he were to grab your face and force you to look at him, your pupils would still dilate and show him a clear reflection of his triumphant face. sweat beads at your body, and your bare skin is all laid out for him to admire. how could he ever leave you behind like that? you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more. it’s almost too good for him to believe.

“wanna cum-,” you stumble over your own words. “please- ‘m so close, akira… it hurts- don’t edge me…”

he hums, and you let out a pained whine when he slows his pace down, dragging his cock out of you painfully. your hole clings to every inch of his cock, not wanting to let him go, scared that he won’t fuck himself back into you. your brain lights up with pleasure as he slowly fucks himself back in before speeding back up, and the sensation is like whiplash to your overwhelmed senses.

your stomach curls dangerously, and your vision shakes violently as the heat rushes to your gut. you’re so close, so close to cumming, basically almost there. you hold your breath, anticipating the dizzying fall, just needing a little more from him to tip you over the edge. you clench your eyes shut as your insides throw a fit, overstimulated and reeling from how downright good it feels to get dicked down again.

except akira won’t give it to you that easily. 

you let out a drawn out cry when he controls his pace and refuses to give you what you want, and you writhe in his arms, clawing at his bare skin and shaking your head back and forth. it’s awful, you hate it, you hate not being able to cum, feeling like there was a dry spell that refused to be satiated. you feel hollow and empty despite him fucking his cock back into you, trying to build that arousal back up.

“y-you’re edging me!” you protest. “please- i was so close- just wanna cum… it hurts…”

“sorry.” he doesn’t sound sorry at all, but he tries to appease you by pressing another flurry of sweet kisses to your face and neck. “can you blame me though? you sound so pretty, look so pretty… i like knowing that i still have it in me. hm? i’m making you feel good, aren’t i?”

it’s unfair how easily he can mess around with both your physical needs and your emotions. all you care about right now is the burning in between your thighs, the secondary pulse inside of your pussy wanting release. your pussy keeps getting more and more sloppy, juices spilling everywhere. your body isn’t resisting any of his touches anymore, and he’s fucking into you without cracking a sweat.

“c’mon,” he whispers seductively. “let me hear you beg for me some more. this is the only time you’ll ever sweeten up to me. you’re usually the thorny one otherwise. think you’re up for it? or do i need to tell you what to say again?”

your throat tightens, and your mind wavers. your thoughts have hazed over a long time ago, not caring about anything else happening in the world. all that mattered to you right now was the delicious stretch of akira’s cock inside your hole, and all you wanted right now was to cum all over his dick like you didn’t have a shred of pride left in your body. and you bet that was what akira wanted out of you: his guarded and jaded former classmate fucked out into a loving, cum-stained mess right in his bed.

the words are leaving your mouth before you can even fully comprehend them. “want it- want it so bad, akira… please, please, wanna cum on your cock- i’ve wanted it so bad… wanted it all this time, nothing else made me feel good! your cock’s the best, i wanna cum on your cock… please- i can’t think about anything else!”

he laughs breathlessly. you don’t know if it’s because he’s incredulous or if it’s because he’s impressed. maybe both. you couldn’t care less, not when your arousal pounds painfully throughout every corner of your body. you think you’ll actually burst if you don’t get to cum soon.

“yeah? god, can you blame me for getting so greedy with you when this is the kind of shit you reward me with?” he kisses your temples softly, and his lips move against your sweat-beaded skin. “i suppose i’ve tortured you enough, yeah? what a good girl you are, doing everything i ask you to do… it’s okay, i’m not going anywhere. you can cum on my cock as much as you want. it’s my turn to pamper my girl a bit…”

finally. finally…! good god, you swear you’re about to see the pearly gates right there. akira angles his hips just right, and he rams mercilessly into you, savoring the choked out cries and moans of thanks you let out, his name generously mixed into your muddled whimpers the way he likes it best. you’re hanging on by a thread, and akira’s fucking you in a way that’ll have you come undone any moment now.

“c-cumming…! ‘m cumming- akira- oh fuck- fuck, fuck, cumming!” 

your cunt clamps down on his cock like a vice, and you throw your head back, a breathless shriek dying out on your lips as your orgasm crashes into you like a brick wall. something warm and wet gushes out in between your thighs, and heat overtakes you entirely. it feels so good, feeling that tightness in your gut snap and unravel and come completely loose, all of the pleasure coursing through your veins and making your mind go entirely blank. you can barely force a breath through your mouth, shuddering as akira guides you through your high, keeping your quivering walls stretched out to their limit as he pumps his cock in and out you through it all.

your world spins, and it feels like everything is giving out under you. your already foggy vision is fighting to stay as it is, and you cling to whatever part of akira is holding you from behind. fuck, you can’t remember when the last time you came like this was. masturbating and fucking yourself on your fingers all by yourself always felt so dull and lackluster, and actually getting a taste of real dick after having been deprived for so long felt like your entire universe was being flipped upside down. you didn’t even realize how badly you were shaking until akira held firmly onto your form, keeping you locked flush against his bare chest.

“ooh, bet that felt really nice-,” his voice warbles through your hearing. your heartbeat roars against your ears, and it takes everything in you to fully focus on what he’s saying. “fuck- i missed making my girl cum like that… i almost forgot that you make such a pretty face whenever you cum… makes me want to tease you even more. yeah? did it feel that good to cum on my cock? you missed it too, didn’t you?”

your head is heavy as you try to get yourself to nod, fully aware of all the slick covering his cock now. did you really cum that hard? you can’t make heads or tails out of anything right now, the aftermath of your high still possessing you fully. you’re a fucked out mess in that moment, and your head buzzes with the dull thrums of euphoric pleasure. you’re vaguely aware of how much akira’s dick is twitching inside of you, undoubtedly hurtling close to his own high now that he’s seen you turn into this mushy mess all because of him. 

his balls twitch against your lower lips. his cock keeps spasming deep inside of you, and the same desperation that had claimed you whole is egging him on too. he wants to fuck his cum into you, watch your cunt struggle to keep all of it, stare down at you with his lust-stricken eyes as the pearly white ropes start to leak out of you. 

you whine against the friction as he keeps bucking his hips against yours, grinding up just to feel a bit more of you. your head spins at the overstimulation, with him still rutting against you despite the fact that you just came. “t-too much, akira-”

“i’m close, promise-,” he grunts out. “bear with me, okay? so close, gonna fill up your pretty pussy with my cum- you’re being so good for me…”

you nod weakly. you want him to fill you up, want to feel the swell of your stomach as his cum floods your insides. you can bear that much. you keep crying out for him, letting your voice spur him on. you’re sure you’re going to be a sore mess tomorrow, aches already spreading across your lower back and legs, but with how much downright pleasure he can plunge you straight into, it’s a worthwhile trade off.

“god, you’re so fucking perfect…! take it- fuck- take it all… gonna make you mine, gonna make you my girl-,” akira groans. you yelp when he grabs at your hips and keeps you stuck in place, and he buries his cock as deep as he can fuck himself into you. a cold shiver spreads across your spine when he cums hard straight into your cunt, and the warmth bursts across your gut. your walls keen and strain as it stretches out to take his semen while his cock is still stuffed inside, and a sense of otherworldly bliss spreads across your brain when you can feel white hot ropes flood your womb.

“ohhhh- fuck- god-,” akira cries out. he buries his head against your shoulder, panting heavily. your intoxicating scent fills his nose, and he swears that he’s no longer on this earth. just as much as you’ve craved the physical intimacy, akira longed to feel this again, to feel your weight in his arms, to feel the warmth of his cock softening inside of your cunt as your lovejuices mix together. all sorts of hazy pleasures flicker up inside of his mind, and there’s nothing he wants to do more than to keep whispering sweet nothings to you and have you all plugged up with his cum, cement you as his for just a few seconds longer.

but he knows better than to push his luck even more than he has. your mind is swimming even more than his is, and he has to be the responsible one despite having initiated this whole mess to begin with. 

he pulls out with a low groan, and you turn over to lay down on your back finally. your knees part unconsciously, and when akira sits up, he’s immediately entranced at the slow stream of his cum that trickles out of your fluttering hole. his cum slides down the curve of your ass and onto his sheets, a small pool forming underneath you.

did… he really cum that much?

he lets you have a second to pull yourself together, and he helps you. you’re still shaky, but you manage to thank him quietly as he gets up. he grabs the base of his half-hard cock, and he presses the sticky tip to your mouth. you look up at him wordlessly through your eyelashes, but your tongue darts out in between your lips. you obediently start licking the excessive cum off of his length, making sure to swirl your tongue into his slit and let him see you swallowing down whatever he couldn’t fuck into your throbbing cunt.

you missed this salty, heady taste too. you wish you weren’t so fucked out, wish you had something intelligent to say to this. more than anything else though, you wish you could feel something other than a sick sense of delight at everything that went down. you should be mortified at letting him pry his way into your heart so easily, for letting your walls down so quickly despite having spent five years building them up. 

but now that everything was said and done, all you wanted in that moment was for him to lay down again so you could crawl back into his arms and feel his heartbeat against your bare body. that was the kind of man akira kurusu was. you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away from him for too long, no matter what you tried. you two were meant to be, no matter how much that sentiment had hurt you whenever you were young.

akira mumbles something about getting ready to clean you up, and you gingerly let yourself flop back down on his bed. fatigue seeps quickly into you. too much happened all at once that night, and no matter how much you fought through the fog in your head to make sense of everything, you remember very little after a certain point.

…

…

…

the appetizing scent of curry and coffee greets you when you slowly let your eyelids flutter open. you’re still naked, and the blanket covering you is light and cool. a gentle stream of sunlight tiptoes through the bedroom, and you stir, suddenly aware of how sleep-logged and heavy your body feels. still, it feels nice when you stretch your arms and legs, before realization slams into your consciousness like a sack of bricks.

you shoot upright, and your back immediately screams out in pain. 

fuck. you messed up. you messed up big time.

you scramble to the edge of the bed, and in the corner, your clothes are freshly laundered and folded up. uncertainty gnaws at your stomach, and you rush to get dressed, haphazardly dragging your clothes over your head and slithering into whatever you had on last night. there’s no sign of akira anywhere, at least inside the bedroom, but this place is very much not your room nor your bed, so it has to be akira’s.

it was one thing to go out to dinner with akira and go back to his place for a cup of coffee. it was another to somehow end up having sex with him and passing out in his bed as if you two were actually lovers. you want to slap yourself in the face as the mortification fully settles in. you had only wanted closure last night, and now you don’t know what to make of the situation. things just got messy way too fast; you never had intended on sleeping with him, let alone letting him fuck you raw and creampie you.

you have half a mind to make a run straight for his front door, but when you crack his bedroom door open, you can hear humming and the clattering of plates from the kitchen. you shyly pad out into his hallway and towards where the noise is coming from. whatever foolish hopes you had of making a clean getaway were gone the moment you woke up, clearly having slept in from how much sunlight was pouring in through all of the windows. the very least you could do was maybe thank him for taking care of you last night and apologize for staying the night unexpectedly.

“oh!” akira whirls around with a pan in his hand. surprise blooms on his face, but he quickly smiles at you. “you’re up already! was i too loud? here, why don’t you take a seat at the table? i was hoping i could wake you up with breakfast already prepared, but i guess you beat me to it.”

heat pricks at your cheeks. you want to decline his offer, but the scent of food hits far stronger now that you’re close to the source. you’re begrudgingly reminded of how hungry you are when your stomach practically yowls, so you hang your head and shuffle awkwardly over to take a seat at his dining table. at the center is a small box of contraception and a glass of water, clearly meant for you, and you’re rendered shy again at how far ahead akira is compared to you.

he must have woken up early to have run to the store for plan b and to have enough time to basically cook up a whole meal for you. you don’t have to wait long before akira proudly presents you with a plate of hot rice and curry, followed by a mug of coffee prepared the way you like it best.

“eat. you’ll need the energy if you’re going to be taking the pill,” he encourages you. he presses a spoon into your hand, and you say a quick word of thanks before digging into the food. you’re not sure if it’s because he’s a good chef or if it’s because you’re ravenous, but you make quick work of breakfast. akira laughs softly at how you’re wolfing down your food and reminds you to chew, but before either of you know it, both of your plates are empty and a strained silence lingers above your heads.

“um…” you glance nervously at him. “i can do your dishes before i leave. and- um- please let me know how much i owe you for everything. i really should be on my way…”

“do my dishes? owe me anything?” the dark-haired man looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “are you in a rush to go somewhere?”

you should lie and tell him you have a prior appointment. if you’re smart, you would have hopped on the closest train that’ll take you far far away from this dangerous man. but clearly you aren’t as smart as you believe yourself to be, given how many times you chose against the “smarter” option to land yourself where you are now. what’s one more indulgent mistake?

“not… necessarily.” you don’t know how to tell him that you’re not sure how to face everything now. it’s impossible to close the gap of five years in just one hookup, no matter how much your hearts might have both yearned for it. there’s a lot of heavy emotional work left to be done if you want something meaningful to come out of it, and you can’t deny the fact that akira has objectively hurt you by disappearing from your life five years ago. 

but when he reaches over the dining table to take your hand and squeeze it encouragingly, your resolve can only hold strong for so long. you peer up from where you’re staring down at your lap. his beautiful doe eyes are looking straight at you, and your heart throbs painfully inside of your chest. 

you want him. you want this. you want all of it to work out, somehow. 

“if there’s no hurry,” he murmurs soothingly, “stay a while. we have so much we have to catch up on.”

you want to believe in the good. in the worthwhile. in the in-betweens and the gray spaces and the happy endings that are still in the making. it might not have been there the last time, but things have changed, regardless of whether or not you’re willing to accept. with his hand intertwined with yours, this newfound tension hanging between the two of you, maybe it’s time for you to close the gap that had been plaguing you for so long.

this time, you won’t be alone.

author's note: wowee two fics from user pparadiselost within a week!!! i know, i know i have the most random posting schedule oopsie,,,, (//ω//) this fic is dedicated to @clubkira and was inspired by her lovely selfship with akira kurusu! i hope you all enjoyed reading, and if you want to show some appreciation, please consider donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!!

#persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 royal #p5r #persona 5 x reader #p5 x reader #persona 5 smut #p5 smut #kurusu akira #x reader #fem reader #my writing

[twilightmalachite]

Big Ocean - Mischief Villains 2

Author: Nishioka Maiko (with Akira)

Characters: Hinata, Yuuta, Tetora, Koga, Adonis

Translator: Mika Enstars

"(We can’t return to the time where we were innocent and free, but… You and I are definitely connected, Yuuta-kun. You agree, don’t you?)"

Season: Winter

Location: Connecting Corridor (Yumenosaki)

The day of the live…

Tetora: This is bad, this is bad…! Agh, Oogami-senpai and Otogari-senpai, where are you~!? At this rate, Hinata-kun and Yuuta-kun’s live is gonna start!

Hm…?

Koga: ……

Tetora: Ah~!! There they are! I finally found them!

Koga: Haah? What, if it ain’t Tetsu-kun.

Adonis: What is it? Need anything from us?

Tetora: Ummm…

(…Urgh, I messed up. I said I’d bring them, but I never thought about how I’d bring them…)

(It’d be best to keep it a surprise, right? Of course I’ll hide that it’s a Repayment Fes, but should I also hide that it’s a 2wink live too…?)

……

Koga: ? Hello~. What’s up with you turnin’ frozen? Tetsu-kun?

Tetora: W-Well, you see!!

Koga: O-oh.

Adonis: That’s some amazing spirit you got there… What is it, Nagumo?

Tetora: It’s… It’s, it’s an emergency!! A mysterious thug is wreaking havoc in the academy! At this rate, the academy will be over with!

Koga: Wha!? The hell!? Are you serious!

Adonis: Nagumo, where is this mysterious thug in question? I’ll go to help!

Tetora: O-Ossu! This way!

Tetora: (AaaAAH! I’m a stupid idiot!! Out of all things to lie about on the spur of the moment, why was it something like that!? Everyone, please forgive me~!!)

Location: In Front of Yumenosaki Academy Auditorium

Koga: Hey, Tetsu-kun! Here?! Is the mysterious thug inside the auditorium?!

Adonis: Oogami, be cautious upon entering. An ambush can be launched from the shadows or corners of rooms.

Tetora: Uh, um, wai—

(Ahh… The two entered with a complete misunderstanding…)

Location: Big Ocean Stage

Koga: Hey, you! Where are you, mysterious thug! Show yourself!

Hinata: Eh~? Aren’t you the terrible mysterious thug, to jump these cute juniors of yours?

Yuuta: He’s right. We may play pranks, but we don’t use violence.

Koga: …Hah!? What’s going on here?!

Adonis: Hinata and Yuuta…? With no thug in sight…?

Hinata: That’s right~! As you can see, this is 2wink’s live venue!

Yuuta: Really, just what sort of fake reason were our seniors given to get them here?

Hinata: Well, whatever the reason… They’ve arrived—and that’s what matters! Since you’ve come all this way, please enjoy it to the very end! ♪

Let’s go, Yuuta-kun! ☆

Yuuta: Understood, Aniki! ♪

Hinata & Yuuta:One, two—

Hinata: “♪~♪~♪~”

Yuuta: “♪~♪~♪~”

Hinata: (Yuuta-kun, look, look! Our seniors’ mouths are hanging open all wide. Doesn’t this make it already a success?)

Yuuta: (I feel like our live isn’t the sole reason for that, though. Seriously, what sort of reason did Tetora-kun give to them?)

Hinata: (Ehehe~♪)

Yuuta: (What, Aniki? You’ve got a weird grin on your face.)

Hinata: (The moment we were born into this world… We were already “separate people”. There’s absolutely no doubt about it.)

(But, still. Even if we were separate people, the time we’ve spent together hasn’t changed any more than it has for anyone else. We’ve been together so long, we’re so much alike in so many ways.)

Yuuta: (Like our gestures, and habits… What makes us laugh to the the timing of our yawns, right?)

Hinata: (Yep. That’s why I can understand what you’re thinking and what you want to say just by making eye contact with you. It’s an entire conversation.)

(And that makes me happy.)

(We can’t return to the time where we were innocent and free, but… You and I are definitely connected, Yuuta-kun. You agree, don’t you?)

(So let’s find it together, where “same” and “different” overlap. That of our happy places, the dreams we long for, the extents of our sorrow…)

Yuuta: (…Even if our “differences” might continue to grow?)

Hinata: (It’ll be okay! ☆ You can say what you want to do on this stage, after all. We can move forward together from now on.)

(Even if our roads are different… I’m sure the end point will be the same.)

Yuuta: (That’s right… As long as I can see you at the end of a long journey, Aniki, I can move forward without fear.)

Hinata: (Yaay! ♪ Thank you for the fervent call of encouragement! C’mon, Yuuta-kun, with how we are now, we can definitely say it now.)

(And I don’t mean in a thinly veiled flattering way. I’ll mean it loud and clear, no falsehoods, with a sincere heart.)

Yuuta: (Mhm. Well, we can say it without any strange worries. This is at our school, not ES.)

(Because, we’re Yumenosaki Academy’s Aoi Yuuta and Aoi Hinata, right?)

(Because we’re Aoi Yuuta and Aoi Hinata, who have fun playing instruments with their beloved seniors, who can laugh and make fools out of themselves.)

Hinata: (Okay, Yuuta-kun!)

Hinata & Yuuta: One, two—

“We are so thankful for you, our seniors!"

← prev | story directory | next →

#big ocean #event #translation #yuuta aoi #hinata aoi #tetora nagumo #adonis otogari #koga oogami

[hyenahunt]

Conquest - Prologue

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)

Translation: hyenahunt

Hiyori: But the problem is, we're not enemies at all. We're allies, aren't we?

[Location: ES Breakroom]

[One day in late spring...]

Hiyori: "Eden Breaks Up?! The decisive battle fans have all been waiting for: Adam VS Eve —"

—Or so says this ridiculous performance plan I just received over HoldHands.

I'd greatly appreciate a detailed explanation of just what is going on. Depending on your answer, chances are I won't let you off.

Nagisa: ...Wow, Hiyori-kun, your expression is frightening.

Ibara: Aye-aye! Allow me to offer you an explanation. After all, it is my job to see to it that this incomprehensible world is dissected, cooked up and arranged for serving.

That being said, however, this appetising proposal came from the higher-ups themselves, and as such I myself am not too clear on how it came to be.

All the same, I do have some grasp of the overall outline.

Nagisa: ...I had no idea about this. While I did receive it on HoldHands, I leave all administrative matters to Ibara.

Hiyori: Nagisa-kun, you're pretty much the leader of both Eden and Adam, aren't you?

I do feel it would be for the best if you managed such things yourself, but well, everyone has their individual strengths and weaknesses, I suppose?

Nagisa: ...Yes. I'd rather not concern myself with the everyday world. It's troublesome.

...And having Ibara look over it results in a more accurate understanding. He's the right person for this.

Ibara: Ahahaha! Receiving such praise and trust from you is truly an honour, Your Excellency!

Nagisa: ...I simply state the truth. By the way, Jun, did you know about this proposal?

Jun: Ugh, please don't drag me into this, Nagi-senpai. Ohii-san's been in such a crazy awful mood all morning and I wanna have nothing to do with it, y'know~?

In situations like these, I'm the one who usually ends up as his stress outlet, after all —

But whatever, I guess. What'd that proposal say again...?

It sounds like something only the unit leaders receive, so there's no way an underling like myself would know anything about it, yeah~?

Nagisa: ...Ahh, it does seem like that's how it works.

...It's set up so that all messages I receive are immediately forwarded to Ibara, so it doesn't concern me, though.

Hiyori: Nagisa-kun, are you alright with that?

If you leave every little thing to Ibara like that — or grow dependent on him, I should say—then aren't you going to have trouble living on if he randomly drops dead one day?

Ibara: Worry not! I won't be dying any time soon — I cannot allow myself to die when we've gotten this far already!

Hiyori: Well, even if Ibara does kick the bucket, I can look after Nagisa-kun like how I used to so everything will be just fine.

Ibara: Indeed, should such a situation ever arise, I will leave him in Your Highness' capable hands.

...Anyway, to return to the topic at hand, I do believe the current proposal isn't completely devoid of points worth considering.

Hiyori: ... In what way, may I ask?

Jun: (Woah. Ohii-san's face is seeeriously scary as hell right now. He's usually all silly laughs and smiles, so when he's got a serious face on you know shit's gonna go down.)

(This time he seems kinda actually really upset about things, huh?)

Ibara: Right. Firstly, it is essential to note that this proposal is by the restructured top brass of CosPro, after the majority of its executives were fired due to the scandal at the end of last year.

They're all most eager to repair their damaged reputations — money is no object in their quest to prove their innocence and competence.

So in short, they intend to create something of great extravagance with this proposal. They'll pull out all the stops, no matter what it takes.

And since this comes right on the heels of the scandal, even the higher-ups will be careful not to attempt anything dubious behind the scenes — so everything should be safe.

Nagisa: ...Well, true fools tend to repeat the same mistakes over and over, though.

Ibara: All the same, it's common knowledge that after the last scandal, we as Eden collectively denounced and drove out the top brass.

Taking that into account, the fact that they've put out a proposal means that they're prepared to face such a situation once more.

This is a proposal of great importance—one that puts their lives on the line, if you will.

At the same time, if we were to reject this proposal, which is composed of the desperate desires of these higher-ups, they'll simply shrink away and believe anything they do or say will be pointless.

I'd greatly prefer to have some clumsy fools bumbling about their jobs rather than frightened figureheads cowering in a corner.

To be frozen in place is no different from being dead, after all. And corpses certainly can't be mobilised for war.

Simultaneously, always saying anything and everything is out of the question will never allow for growth in us humans.

...Well, such overprotective and motherly behavior seems to be a favorite of His Highness Hiyori.

Hiyori: ...In what sense? I certainly feel as though you're mocking me right now, you know?

Ibara: Of course not, I would never do such a thing... It is but a misunderstanding.

But in any case, for the sake of the top brass gaining experience, and to grant them that sense of self-confidence and achievement, I would dearly like for us to accept their proposal.

Nagisa: ...It's actually an interesting proposal, too.

...A confrontation between Adam and Eve... I've never considered such a thing before.

Jun: Well, it kinda feels like something guys would be pretty into. It's almost like pro-wrestling.

Seeing who'd win if Adam and Eve faced off... that might really catch our fans' interest, actually~

Hiyori: Ngh... A lion is still the king of beasts even if he doesn't go around proclaiming it, right?

Ibara: Certainly. That being said, a performance is essential in allowing the masses to actually understand this, as they are rather slow on the uptake.

And it is for that purpose that we now have this current plan: "Conquest".

For us of Eden, who were regrettably only the runner-ups for the idol world's greatest festival, Winter Live, at the end of last year...

Perhaps it's a rather ambitious event, to try and realise that domination that once slipped through our grasp —

That world domination, thwarted by Trickstar, or rather obstructed by traitors within our own camp.

Now is the time to see it through — that, I feel, is the current sentiment borne by the higher-ups of CosPro.

Conquer all, and we shall seize the world within our hands.

Hiyori: Well, in all honesty, I do have faint regrets that we weren't able to conquer the nation at the end of last year.

But we'd still be able to make the world ours just by doing things as we always have. Why make a show out of something so unsightly as an internal quarrel—

Ibara: That's not the case. ES has now been established, and in this new era of oligarchy between the four agencies, it'll prove difficult to stand out if we simply go about our days without aim.

If we are to use a single showpiece to launch ourselves to the top, then it is essential for it to be explosive in nature.

In that sense, I believe Conquest is the ideal plan for it. Since the earliest times, people have always been drawn to showdowns of destiny, after all.

Such as Holmes and Moriarty, Godzilla and King Ghidora, Goku and Vegeta... Would you understand those examples, Your Highness?

Jun: Oh, I totally get you.

Ibara: Good. Let's see... it would be something akin to the War of the Roses — does that make sense?

Hiyori: Mm... I can't deny that a showdown between age-old enemies would be exciting, of course.

But the problem is, we're not enemies at all. We're allies, aren't we?

No... I consider Eden a family, but am I the only one who feels that way?

Nagisa: ......

✦✦✦✦✦

✦ all ✦ next →

#hiyori tomoe #jun sazanami #nagisa ran #ibara saegusa #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars translation #type: event #s: conquest #era: !! #status: complete #hyenahunttl

[chaeiimimi]

12 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖇𝖆𝖇𝖞

Summary: you weren’t really sure how it happened, but an average student who wore glasses and spent all her extra time on bookstores and library managed to date your school’s volleyball club setter. On your 3rd year of law school, your ten years anniversary to be exact, he went home from Argentina and it was a week before he was going back, he broke up with you with the reason of he can't handle long-distance relationship anymore despite being at it for two years. You didn’t cry, you stood there as he was sobbing in front of you, you held his face in your palms and offered him a gentle smile, gentle enough to let him know you’ll support him and will always be watching him, together with the child in your stomach right now, but he doesn’t need to know that.

chapter: prev//next

"bubs answer me, what's wrong?" he asks more serious now

You stood there, frozen, unable to say anything

The overwhelming anxiety you've been feeling getting the best of you, tears just well up in your eyes as the blurry image of Oikawa approaches you

"hey, hey, what's wrong babe?" he pulls you to his chest, and rubs soothung circles on your back

You cried there for a while, not noticing your sons came crawling and tugged on the hem of your skirt all teary eyed when they saw you crying

You looked down at them and hastily wiped the tears on your face and went to get Haruto while Oikawa carried Hayato

"wanna talk about it?"

You slowly nodded, as he leads you to the couch

You sighed deeply and took your phone out from your bag and searched for the article while Oikawa look at you with furrowed eyebrows

You gave him your phone, anxious of his reaction so you busied yourself on playing with Haruto

You were making funny faces to make him giggle when Oikawa suddenly grips your wrist

"I'm going out" he says with unreadable expression on his face

"what-" he cuts you off with a sweet kiss and stood up to go to the door without looking back

Oikawa was livid, his hands were shaking, he was seeing red, he did not care to look at the speed meter anymore

The usual 20 minute ride to get to his destination turned into 10

He knocks at the door of the huge house in front of him

The doorknob twisted and opened, it then revealed a Himari with a sweet smile

"Oikawa-"

He cuts her off as he hastily went inside the house and closed the door behind him

"what the fuck is wrong with you?!" he says angrily

Himari stood there, faux innocence dancing on her face

"Oikawa I dont-"

"don't fucking toy with me Sato Himari"

The model flinched at the mention of her full name

"are you even human? You ruined the name of your cousin! The mother of your nephews! Are you for real?!" his veins were popping up on his forehead, his face was red from rage

"do you have no idea how this could affect y/n huh? This could take away Y/n's license! The license she worked hard for for eight fucking years and it's going to be taken away because of your lies! We are not together!" Oikawa was breathing heavily

"but you led me on"

"I was being polite, because you are the love of my life's cousin,and now I regret doing that" Oikawa says calmy but his eyes were still raging

"its always y/n y/n y/n, you, Akira, Iwa, you guys are always kissing her ass! What do you see in her? You what do you see in her? I tried everything to earn yoyr love Tooru! I followed you to Argentina and it still wasn't enough"

"everything that you don't have,if y/n was in your place, she wouldn't slander your name to get what she wants"

Himari froze, eyes wide from the shock

"you thought I don't know about what you told coach huh? I hated you for quite a while now, for breaking us up, but I still stayed polite, in respect for Y/n, you better fix this mess Himari or I myself will step on the podium and expose your lies"

Pain flashes in Himari's eyes, but soon it turned ito a smirk

"then what are your fangirls from Brazil going to say? Huh? They might be dissapointed in you and they might come for y/n and your sons" she laugjs evily and stares at him

"that's non of your business, I'm an athlete not a celebrity, I don't need to impress anyone, all I need to do is beat each and ever single one of my team's opponent, I have enough money for the safety of my family, you on the other hand need to watch out, when I step on that podium, I'm going to make sure there will be nothing left of your career" he says as he turns around to head for the door

The evil smile from Himari's face was wiped away, her eyes now filled with worries, her lips trembling

"I'm pregnant"

Taglist:

@heiressofdexter @artsamber @seashellmichellee @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @misssugarless @minnieminnie00-got7  @karakento @maizumis @torus-wiife @fiaesco @stormcastello @tintina365 @sakusasimpbot   @falconfeather23435 ​ @jojowantstocry @pluviophilefangirl ​ @qualitygiantshoepsychic

[middlechildwhoescapedthebasement]

IT WAS THIS ONE!!!!! HERE YA GO BESTIE!!!

14. What past act are they most ashamed of?

AAAA THANK YOU BESTIE!

Varian: Allowing Bi-Han to beat her so he could progress in the tournament. She saw his potential and thought that he would make an excellent kombatant. This led him to his death

Kami: She killed a man that she thought had hurt innocents. Turns our he was innocent and she was manipulated by the group the told the tales to her

Ryoko: Nearly getting Akira killed because she dared him to skate on a frozen pond. She thought it was fully frozen but it wasn't

Akira: Literally any time he let his emotions get the better of him and cause him to be reckless, most of the time he gets himself injured badly

Masaru: Showing Kano mercy rather than just beating him, his idea was to be the better man. But it just nearly cost him his life

Terrance/Pascal: He used Shang Tsung's soul magic on an innocent Shaolin. Shang Tsung threatened to kill Pascal if he didn't, but he still thinks about it to this day

#mk ocs #mk varian #what if au #middle mutuals #Mk Kami #Kami Ashraf #Mk Ryoko #Ryoko Hasashi #Mk Akira #Akira Hasashi #Mk Masaru #Masaru Hasashi #Mk Terrance/Pascal #Terrance/Pascal #BTW I'm not excusing their actions because while they were accidents they still should of been more thought through

[honyakuninakunaru]

With You, Whom I Don't Understand // Mithra SSR Card Story

CHAPTER 1

(Northern ruins)

Mithra: <Arthim>

(Crash)

The moment Mithra’s spell resounded with a dull echo, a curve cut through the giant beast's neck and sent it flying. The rest of its body, now beheaded, swayed back and forth several times in search for its lost neck and once in vain, it let out a chilling cry, turning into stone.

Akira: ("T-that was so quick, I barely grasped what just happened...")

Mithra: "What kind of mana stone is this? It's the size of a pebble."

Akira: "You did a good job, Mithra. Commission completed!"

A commission about a magic beast gone berserk because of the Calamity's effect arrived earlier today, so I asked the northern wizards to come and take care of it, but, Mithra, unsurprisingly, ended up defeating it all by himself.

Snow: "As expected of our one and only Mithry! He took it down in the blink of an eye."

White: "He is the manor’s Ace, after all!"

Akira: "You don't say... I was surprised how quickly it was over with."

Owen: "If that's the case, let Mithra do all of this boring work."

Bradley: "As long as you have him, it's gonna be taken care of in a jiffy, right? You don't gotta ask all of us to come here."

Akira: "I'm sorry...! I didn't think it'd end so soon."

Mithra: "But they're right - we don't need excess luggage."

Bradley: "Come again?"

Mithra: "Am I wrong?"

Owen: "I see you want to turn into stone very badly, should I make that wish of yours become a reality? I'll let you have a taste of Mithra's mana."

Mithra: "There's no way that will ever happen. You're weaker than I am, after all."

Snow: "Certainly, Owen's power at the moment is no match for Mithra's."

White: "Both you and Bradley should put a lot of effort shall you aim to take the place of the manor’s Ace."

Akira: ("They're right, Mithra is our Ace, without a doubt. Even I know how strong he is, but... that's all I know.")

(Dining room)

Akira: "I was hoping I could chat with Mithra a bit more, but he's not here either, even though it's lunch..."

Speaking of what I know about Mithra... I know that he's the second most powerful wizard after Oz, his taste in food is... peculiar, and that he suffers from insomnia because of his injury from the Calamity. And he also made a promise to protect Rutile and Mitile.

Akira: ("I wonder if I'll come to understand him better if we became closer...")

Owen: "Hello, Master Sage."

Akira: "Wha- Owen! What's with you, appearing out of thin air?"

Owen: "You ought to prepare for the summoning ceremony of new wizards. Because if not, those guys will surely get killed by Mithra. "

Akira: "Killed...!? Wait a minute, what do you mean by that!?"

Owen: "Go to the tower. Something very fun is happening there."

CHAPTER 2

(Running footsteps)

(In front of the tower)

Akira: "Excuse me! I heard that some sort of trouble happened here and I came to check!"

Rutile: "You arrived just at the right time, Master Sage!"

Mitile: "Mister Mithra wouldn't let us go!"

Mithra: "You're so noisy... Please sit still and behave."

Akira: ("He's holding them by the scruff of the neck like kittens...?")

Figaro: "Hi there, Sir Sage."

Akira: "Figaro, Lennox, just what happened here?"

Lennox: "The four of us were just heading over to the Southern country when Mithra came to stop us."

Mithra: "Because there's no way I could let them go there. I would be in trouble if you two went somewhere where I can't see you. I can't allow you to do that, because you're weak."

Akira: ("Ah, right, Owen doesn't know about the promise, so he probably thought Mithra was hurting them or something...")

Rutile: "Mister Mithra, please let us go. We're going on a day trip to visit mother and father's graves, together with everyone else from the South."

Mithra: "Grave visiting or not, it doesn't matter. Even if it's just a day trip, that won't change the fact that I won't be able to keep an eye on you."

Lennox: "Then, why don't you go instead of us two?"

Akira: "You want Mithra to go?"

Lennox: "Rutile and Mitile said they're worried, so we suggested to accompany them."

Figaro: "It does take a while to get to the City of Clouds. You have to fly for a bit after arriving at the tower, and it can be dangerous when going past the mountains, not to mention."

Mithra: "..... <Arthim>"

Mithra: "Come on, let's get this over with."

Mitile: "Wha!? Wait a minute, Mister Mithra!"

Rutile: "A-alright, then! See you later, Mister Leno, Doctor Figaro!"

Figaro: "Yep, have a safe trip. Ah, how about you go as well, Master Sage?"

Akira: "Me?"

Figaro: "You're always dealing with the requests we get, and you're doing your very best, you deserve to go and get some healing over at the South."

Akira: "Um, if you say so... I'm off, then!"

(City of Clouds)

Akira: ("Well, that was quick... Mithra's Door of Space sure is handy.")

Citizen: "Would ya look at that! More people are turning up!"

Rutile: "My, you came too, Master Sage! Hello everyone. These are our precious friends from the manor - Master Sage and the northern wizard, Mithra."

Citizen: "Ooh, the Sage and a wizard from a different country, you say! You and Mitile seem to get along with everyone at the manor, what a relief."

Akira: ("They know Mithra's from the north but, they're acting friendly nonetheless... I wonder if it's because they don't have a prejudice against wizards.")

Rutile: "We're going over to the graveyard right now, would you two like to join us as well?"

Mithra: "I'm not going."

Despite the way he spat out his reply, an expression, different from his usual one, had shown itself on Mithra's face.

CHAPTER 3

Akira: ("Mithra, what happened... That's not like you...") 

Akira: "I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to decline as well. You two should go and enjoy your day with your parents. I'll take my time to look around the South—"

Mithra: <Arthim>

Mithra: "I'll come to pick you up later. Please don't touch anything strange-looking under any circumstances."

Akira: "Whoa, Mithra!?"

Mithra forcefully grabbed my hand and pulled me into the Door of Space, that had suddenly appeared.

(Tycho Lake)

Akira: "...This is...Tycho Lake? Why did you bring us here?"

Mithra: "I wonder why myself. I simply felt like coming."

Akira: "I-I see... This is a place full of Rutile and Mitile's parents' memories, isn't it."

Mithra: "Yeah."

Akira: "... S-speaking of, I've seen a mermaid here before."

Mithra: "Is that so..."

Akira: ("He's so absent-minded... But I wonder why... He looks so lonely...")

Mithra: "....."

(Splash)

Akira: "Wha!? W-what's with you all of a sudden, Mithra! Hold on... I-it's quite de—...!?"

(Screen fades to black)

(Bubble-bubble)

Akira: ("Who knew the lake was this deep... This is bad! I'll drown!")

(Splish-splash)

I felt my body, sinking just moments ago, getting forcefully pulled upward.

The very first thing I saw, was Mithra's evergreen eyes.

Mithra: "What are you doing?"

Akira: "Cough... S-sorry. And thank you. ...Although, I should be the one asking what you were doing. Why did you suddenly dive in like that?"

Mithra: "Well, you said there were mermaids in there, so I thought we could catch some for dinner."

Akira: "Um. Are you sure you can eat...mermaids...?"

Mithra: "They do sound tasty."

Akira: "I-I wonder about that..."

Mithra: ".....Why did you jump in?"

Akira: "Why you ask? Well, probably because... I wanted to help you...?"

Mithra: "Help? You? Me?"

Akira: "Yes..."

Mithra, who blinked in bewilderment, immediately laughed with the innocence of a young boy.

Mithra: "Ahaha. You're the only person in this world who'd ever think about coming to my aid, aren't you?"

Akira: "That's..."

Mithra: "...Oh well, I'm grateful. You're the one who was drowning moments ago, though."

Akira: "Yeah, sorry about that. Thank you for saving me."

Mithra: "That much I can do."

(City of Clouds)

Rutile: "Goodness, you two are completely soaked!"

Mitile: "You're gonna end up catching a cold like this! I'll go fetch you some towels, okay?"

Mithra: "No need, our clothes are going to dry up quickly. More importantly, let's get going if you're done here."

Mitile: "Geez, you're so self-centred...!" 

Akira: ("...As I thought, I don't understand Mithra very well. But, if possible, I'd like to get to know more about him from now on.")

Mithra: "Come now, you're coming with us too. It's going to cause me trouble if I can't keep an eye on you."

The Lake's Fortune // Card Training Story

(Lounge)

Akira: "Is swimming a strong suit of yours, Mithra?"

Mithra: "And what brought this about?"

Akira: "I just thought that you swam very naturally in the Tycho Lake, even though it's so deep your legs don't reach the bottom."

Mithra: "Well, yes, I am skilled at it since I grew up at a lakeshore."

Akira: "The northern lakes are always frozen, so I had the impression that you couldn't swim in them, but apparently you can."

Mithra: "There are times when they aren't. Well, it's only the surface that's frozen. Under that layer, it's just normal water."

Akira: "Brr, sounds so cold... When told 'frozen lake' the only thing that comes to mind is pond smelt fishing."

Mithra: "Pond smelt fishing?"

Akira: "It's a type of small fish from my world. You make a hole on the frozen water's surface and fish through it. Were there edible fish in the lake you used to swim in?"

Mithra: "There was some fish-looking creature that would jump out with great vigour in response to noise, and sometimes it would pierce into my neck."

Akira: "That's quite the aggressive fish! When fried, pond smelts taste really yummy."

Mithra: "... Now I'm craving fish. I'll go over to Tycho Lake to catch some real quick."

Akira: "R-Right now?"

Mithra: "Yes. Are you coming as well?"

Akira: "Yeah, but give me a minute to check what's left for today's schedule—"

Mithra: "No, we are going immediately, <Arthim>."

#mahoyaku #translation #mithra

[lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr]

Strange Happenings

⚓︎ Previous Parts: Betrayal, Doubts, The Race, A Challenge of Fate

⚓︎ Pairing: Jungkook x OC

⚓︎ Genre: Fantasy, Pirate AU, magic, time travel, romance

⚓︎ Warnings: mentions of blood/wounds

⚓︎ Rating: General

⚓︎ Word Count: 2.7K

⚓︎ Synopsis: Sakura’s entire world is turned inside out when she and Jungkook meet

He didn’t have to die.

Sakura angrily wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Her feet pounded against the pavement, releasing the pent-up anger with each step.

If only they had listened to me. He could have been saved.

Men and their ridiculous notions. Akira refused to listen to her advice and while he’d never come out and said it, she knew it was because she was the only female on the team. His ego had prevented the patient from reuniting with his family.

Shaking hands tugged at the band in her hair until it came loose, allowing the mess of dark frizzy curls to bounce down past her shoulders. Giving her head a firm shake, she didn’t bother running a hand through it. There was no use. The unmanageable curls would never cooperate, especially in the cold, December rain.

The day Sakura decided to become a healer, she had sworn to save as many lives as she could. It was the same oath her father took when suffering through the rigorous training programs. Three years of perseverance allowed him to become one of the greatest healers in all of Phainomai. He was Sakura’s hero. Vowing to be just like him, she entered the same training course and graduated top of her class.

Hugging her coat tighter around her body, Sakura fought back the scream building in her chest. Today’s failure in the operating room brought the number of patients to die while under care up to two. Her first loss occurred within the first month of her first job. She dove into this career believing she could make a difference; that every person who crossed her path would one day return home to their families. The moment the line went flat, her entire world came crashing down around her. Reality set in, blocking the light which once shone bright. She cried for a week, but her father refused to allow her to quit. He comforted her, offering a box of tissues and a tub of ice cream. His voice was soft but firm as he told her, “You can’t same them all, Kiddo. That’s just not how the world works.”

Tonight felt different from that moment nearly three years ago. If Dr. Tanaka had only listened to her. Sakura may not be able to save them all, but she could have saved this man. An accidental brush of her wrist against the man’s chest had shown her, even in his past life, he’d been nothing but a humble farmer. The fate handed to him the moment he entrusted his life to Sakura’s team was too cruel.

Akira Tanaka, lead healer of department and head surgeon of her team, enjoyed pushing Sakura around. At times she questioned whether he truly cared for the patients at all. Most days, he ran off at odd times, only to return hours later with no explanation as to where he had gone and a temper which kept everyone at bay. Tonight had been no different. He’d appeared only moments before the surgery and disappeared as soon as the last stitch had been made, leaving her to send off the rest of the team on her own.

Sakura quickened her stride. The winter wind was unforgiving despite her best efforts to block it out. The three mile walk from the hospital to her house was one she could make in her sleep. The neighborhood was friendly enough. She knew most everyone. Walking alone in the dark was never something she worried over but tonight was different. Her nerves were on edge. An unsettling feeling settled over her as she threw a quick glance over her shoulder. I’m being paranoid. Her emotions were shot from a long day at the hospital. A hot shower and a good night’s sleep would do her good.

The revving of an engine disturbed the stillness of the night. Turning toward the sound, Sakura barely managed to leap off the road as a bike came barreling around the corner. She recognized him as one of the riders from the race earlier. Apparently, the rush of the evening had yet to calm down.

The driver paid her no mind, his head twisting around to glance over his shoulder, laughter bubbling up from his chest. There was something so familiar about the sound. A feeling of returning home after years of being away. Without a helmet, the smirk he wore was evident as he turned back around in his seat.

~ A dozen men in blue uniforms, their muskets drawn, shouted as one voice. They gave chase. Their target – a young man dressed in torn rags with his hands bound before him – threw a glance over his shoulder. Induced by the rush of adrenaline, laughter bubbled up from his chest. As he turned back, a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. ~

Sakura’s breath caught in her throat. That smirk – it was the same.

Her gift required the touch of another’s skin to see into their past lives. She was sure the man she saw in the vision was the same man who had just passed her by. Yet they were nowhere near close enough to touch, so how had she seen it?

Frozen to the spot, she watched as another bike sped around the corner, only a few seconds behind the first. Tires screeched in protest, forced to drift across the pavement at their rider’s will. Something was wrong. The first rider’s enjoyment was evident in his laughter, but the second racer appeared far too aggressive for a friendly race. The metal pipe in his hand made contact with the pavement, shooting out a wave of sparks as the rider spun to keep up with his opponent.

Shifting his weight, the first racer prepared for another spin back around but he faltered when his headlight pass over Sakura, alerting him to her presence. Their eyes met. A tidal wave of emotions crashed over him, too quickly to identify. Time slowed down and the world around them blurred until all that remained were the two of them.

~ The shot of the pistol shattered the suffocating silence. Sakura cried out as she pitched forward, the pain unlike anything she had experienced before. Someone’s arms shot out to catch her and she desperately grasped at their shirt, fighting back against the pull of unconsciousness. Terror shone through her dark eyes as each breath became more ragged than the last. ~

Mid-turn, the racer’s tires hit a patch of loose gravel, forcing the rider’s attention back to his bike as he fought to keep control. Taking advantage of the situation, the second racer pushed his bike forward, speeding up past his opponent and shoving the metal rod into his back wheel. The sudden disruption sent both bike and rider flying through the air.

The man crashed to the ground, narrowly avoiding a deadly collision with the six-hundred pound bike. The air stilled as the second biker sped away, leaving Sakura alone in the dark with the injured man. Terror paralyzed her, preventing her from rushing toward him. The moon was hardly visible behind the clouds, hiding the only bit of light she had. She should have turned and run but every instinct in her body told her to help him. Slowly, her feet shuffled across the rain soaked gravel, carrying her to his side where she dropped to her knees. He was unconscious but with a relieved breath, she noted his breathing was steady.

His glove, torn beyond repair, revealed a bloodied hand. The only other visible sign of damage was a large gash just below his left eye. Both were easy enough to heal with a few simple words, but she couldn’t be sure of any other injuries without the proper equipment.

His pulse. Check his pulse.

Sakura followed her instincts. She would help all she could in the moment but this man would need to be transferred to the hospital soon.

Reaching out toward his wrist, she froze as several images flashed across her vision. Images she couldn’t understand. Flashes of memories which showed the man before her had no better luck in the past life as he did in this one.

~ Hands bound before him, he stood before a crowd of spectators shouting angry condemnations in his direction. To his left, a man in a blue uniform stood at attention. To his right, a short pudgy man read from a large scroll. Each word he spoke spurred the crowd’s anger. They called for justice. They screamed for order. They demanded his death. ~

The next image she recognized from one she had seen before.

~ He ran from the men in uniform. The smirk he wore only moments before, replaced with a hard look of determination. His chasers were gaining. Musket went off. A bullet tore through his sleeve, narrowly avoiding contact with his shoulder. He found refuge, crossing into the line of trees but his victory was short lived. Blood oozed from the bullet’s point of entry to his lower leg. He managed a few steps before he collapsed to the ground. ~

The image faded slowly, lining up perfectly with that of the man lying before her. Fate was playing a cruel joke and this man was the victim.

A horrible realization settled over her. Those visions - how had she seen them? Her hand still hovered inches above his, never having come in contact. Jerking her hand back, she cradled it against her chest as she watched him with wide, terrified eyes. Nothing about this situation made any sense.

Sakura gasped, scrambling back as the man’s eyes shot open and he jolted up beside her. Terror clouded his eyes but his gaze was empty as he stared at her, as if he were still dreaming. Sweat coated every inch of his skin and he shook from what Sakura assumed was a fever. When he spoke, his words held no meaning.

“Aoi. I promised.”

His voice sent an electric shock through her body. That name felt as familiar as the man before her. He was, in a word - stunning. Features which should not have paired well, came together in perfect harmony. Soft, rounded cheeks; a button nose and large eyes gave him an innocent, child-like appearance. That innocence was contrasted with sharp lines and the body of a man who enjoyed his time at a gym. Those with physical type gifts were often blessed with naturally toned bodies. Having seen the way he handled his bike, it was no secret where his talents lay.

Groaning in pain, he brought his hand up to his head, seemingly forgetting she was there at all. “What’s going - ” he froze, his eyes wide as he frantically searched the surrounding darkness, “Aoi. Aoi! Where are you?”

Sakura attempted to steady her nerves with a deep breath before gently leaning forward to catch his attention. “I’m going to need you to calm down, sir. You’ve been injured.”

His wild gaze turned on her, a comment of disregard ready but he froze before the words left his lips. Swallowing hard, he let out a shaky breath. His eyes ran across her body several times.

Sakura felt oddly exposed in her work uniform and attempted to pull her jacket down around her exposed knees. “We really should get you to the hospital. It’s only about a mile down the road here. If you would like me to show you, I could - ”

“Aoi,” the man’s soft voice cut her off, “it’s me.” He was confused. His wide eyes did nothing to hide his fear.

Sakura pressed her lips together in a tight smiles, “So it is, though it seems you have me confused with another girl.”

“You don’t - you don’t know me? Aoi, it’s me.” His voice broke, shattering her heart.

“I do believe we’ve established as much,” standing, she brushed her dress off, “well, Mr. Me, it seems as though you’ve managed to hit your head a bit harder than I’d originally assumed. I think it’s best we get you to the hospital.”

The man lowered his gaze to the ground. She could almost see the gears turning as he attempted to sort through the mess in his head. “No,” he shook his head, frowning, “this was not what was meant to happen. The sorceress, she said - ”

“You went to a sorceress?”

The man lifted his eyes to her guiltily.

“You should know sorcerers aren’t any good. They hold too much power and all they ever do is con you out of your money. What did you go to a sorceress for?”

“I needed to get you back.”

Sakura wrapped her arms around herself, avoiding his intense stare. “Look, Mr. Me, you seriously have me confused for someone else. I’ve never met you before in my life.”

Huffing in frustration, the man struggled to his feet despite her protests. “We’ve met and I can prove it.”

“How?”

“You can see into another’s past lives, right?”

“How did you - ”

“It’s your gift. So here,” he extended his hand, “look into mine and you’ll see.”

“I don’t think - ”

“Please.”

Sakura’s fingers itched to reach out and take his hand. She shouldn’t, not after everything that had happened tonight. She knew it and yet she found herself slowly unfolding her arms from around herself.

The man offered an encouraging smile.

She stopped. “If I’m going to to learn about your past like this, I would like to have a name to go with the face?”

“Jungkook.”

“No last name?”

“Never found a use for one.”

Sakura raised a brow at the strange answer.

Moving slowly, she extended her arm and took his hand. The moment she touched his skin, she knew she made a mistake. Flashes of images - dozens at once, flooded her mind. They spun around her at dizzying speeds. Crying out, Sakura released his hand, digging her nails into her head against the surge of pain. Managing to peel her eyes open enough to see, she found a group of men, all with familiar faces blinking back at her. Sparks of yellow light danced among them. One by one, each extended a hand toward her. As they did, the flashes of images grew faster and clearer. Fourteen men stood at attention, each with their eyes trained on Sakura as if awaiting an order she couldn’t give. Jungkook stood beside her, his smile bright as he looked at each of the new faces.

Sakura drew in a shaky breath, struggling to keep her eyes open against the surge of images. These people, she knew them. She was sure of it. The one directly before her, with auburn hair that fell over his eyes and a remarkable resemblance to Jae, shifted his gaze to Jungkook. He did not move his lips, yet his words echoed through her mind in a deep, calming tone.

“Save him. Uncover the past and right the wrongs befallen you.”

Sakura blinked at him. “Did you say ‘befallen’?”

“Discover the truth, prevent the errors made in grief.”

“None of what you are saying makes any sense. Who are you?”

“You are our final hope.” Moving as one, each one of them lowered their arm, took a step back and bent forward in a bow. “Return to us what has been lost.”

The sparks between them came together to form the face of an elderly woman. Her skin sagged and her bushy hair stuck up at odd angles. When she spoke, her words slurred as if she were drunk. “Your destiny calls for you. At long last the promise will be fulfilled.”

“Would someone please speak without riddles?”

The face appeared startled by Sakura’s response. The woman regarded her with puckered lips before giving her head a light shake. “This is the one he wished to bring back? Men have no taste.”

Sakura scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, the rest of the world temporarily forgotten. “I am worth saving.” Hesitating a moment, she leaned forward and in a hushed tone asked, “Why exactly do I need saving?”

“Mortals truly are idiotic.”

“You say that as if you’re not.”

“I can not be bothered with this any further. Return to the place you came. Neither of you belong to this world. You have been here quite long enough.” The sparks slowly began fading away alongside the flashing images and the people, still dipped low in a bow. “I do hope you will show a bit more decorum the next we meet.”

Sakura tried to reach out to the woman, to beg for some sort of clarity, but the moment she lifted her foot, the earth opened up and swallowed her whole.

#In Another Life - AU #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts fanfction #bts fic #bts angst #bts au fanfic #bts fantasy au

[kur0mimi]

Drawn to the Blood

—A solemn mini oneshot of Setsuko regarding her life alone in Neo-Tokyo. Based off of excerpts from the song “Drawn to the Blood” by Sufjan Stevens

character(s) - Setsuko Ueda, mentions of Mr Nezu and original characters

genre(s) - lots of angst and drama

warning(s) - angst, abandonment, child abuse, depictions of mental health problems, and very slight dissociation (if you squint, you can see it), Setsuko just needs a hug

a/n - hey, Lucija again ^^ i’m going to continue to post some of my one shots that have been taking too much room in my files, so please enjoy this rather angsty little oneshot I wanted to include as a part of my actual AKIRA fanfic (ignoring the fact that i haven’t sat down to write more of it). this oneshot is based off of the song “Drawn to the Blood” by Sufjan Steven, i really recommend listening to it! as they describe a huge part of Setsuko’s character

I’m drawn to the blood

The flight of a one-winged dove

Find a fucking reference to guide your way back to God, the voice had echoed in her mind in a debilitating manner. The world Setsuko was estranged seemed to be a trap which functioned only to warp a stasis. Her chrysalis lost its fragility when she was at her biggest weakness, the nipping cold air clinging to her skin as she trembled underneath its frigid clutch.

She was once told that to gain entitlement to choice you had to be completely done with the world, sick of the corruption and biased opinions that lurked. But that sort of progression was attained only through nosedives, so how the hell was she supposed to fall out of the crippling suspension when the recollection of her own birth was eroded from everyone‘s subconscious?

She was never held enough as a kid, every form of articulated affection collapsed when she was sent off to that frozen wasteland. The waste of her dewired intuition pooled in her conscious, blocking every mode of entry into the light she wanted to reach.

The critical point of engaging with others had elapsed, and it was there Setsuko wrote in her notebook:

“Time seems so gentle when you’ve been living wrong.”

She wasn’t oblivious to her own thinning as a child, no longer deriving innocent pleasure counterproductively.

How? How did this happen?

How? How did this happen?

Setsuko liked mathematics. It was one of the only things she was good at (minus painting and physical activities). The flattening of x, symbolizing quantities collapsing into their accompanying variables.

There was no pattern between the polynomials. She squared every digit into oblivion and condemned to backtrack over nothing. But she still continued to recede, as if she was in a constant motion.

She was a stasis.

She was what she didn’t know.

She fell behind the world as if it went black.

She was the echoic sound of hope that made her parent’s cover their ears.

She was a kamikaze. Spiralling into a state of madness—she saw flames when she closed her eyes; the end of the world. But she was not afraid anymore, as she was already torn apart yet she couldn’t feel a thing.

The strength of his arm

My lover caught me off-guard

It was trivial to think Mr Nezu had ever thought about her because he saw everything. He saw the scars beneath her shame and the lies beneath her crystalline black eyes. He saw the internal screaming behind her passive remarks and the cries beneath her visage.

He could see the splattered blood on the pavement and on the palms of her hands. He witnessed all of it but didn’t bother to reach along the bays of the oceans to the depths of Setsuko’s fragile, kind soul.

He saw it all but he didn’t care. He simply lit a match and let it burn.

Help.

Help.

HELP.

How? Head of a rabbit

How? Head of a rabbit

It was mundane for Setsuko to enjoy the rotting metropolis with the mere existent of those whose desires were daunting to the point where it was considered a sickness.

It gnawed on the thawing flesh and punctured through bones, leaving a line of jokes to the rotten souls for the hedonistic morons.

Their severe idiocy were issues needing of curative systematics. The politicians and their figurative speeches needing a firm polish so that they could appeal to the younger generation.

It’s not like the dilated pupils of some of citizens could see where their world was going. Not even remorseful as they proceeded to make decision with the disgusting, selfish motives Setsuko grew to hate.

For my prayer has always been love,

What did I do to deserve this? 

“The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.”

Her sins didn’t destroy her. As her parchment skin wasn’t decaying anymore, no longer a masquerade for the sadness that lurked deep within Setsuko.

She didn’t have vile lies and a diabolical imagination. Her secrets were now devoured by vengeful ex-family members and the people she once trusted.

The syrupy, alluring taste of her blood was tasted swiftly by those materialistic aristocrats she was initially meant to emulate. She was no longer like them, she was her own person by then.

She sacrificed herself to those gnawing savages, markings of their canines scattered along her physique. She was always the prey. She wasn’t always the one hunting on behalf of someone else’s agenda.

With blood on my sleeve,

Delilah, avenge my grief

“ Setsuko? Setsuko, are you there? ”

Lost. Lost in the night. Lost in the world. The grief was gone, long gone. Flushed away by sour tears, smeared against shards of glass.

But there were some things that were meant to stay as Setsuko smiled at her friend with the hazel eyes, standing up from her spot on the ground.

“ I am. But that doesn’t matter now. Let’s go catch up with the others. ”

#akira #oc #concept #poetry? #writing #oneshot #setsuko #angst

[individuationfic]

Hoping I’ve Got It All Right Chapter 2: Don’t You Know What You’re Starting?

AO3

Sakura Sojiro is prepared for a lot of things, but he’s not prepared for the boys who walks into his café.

The kid is quiet. Polite. He calls him “Sakura-san” and doesn’t complain about sleeping in the attic. The only question he has is if he could plant flowers in the window if he can find a planter box for it. He is, in no way, shape, or form, the delinquent Sojiro was expecting.

Sojiro doesn’t know how to handle this kind of honesty, so he calls the kid a pain in the ass, tells him not to do anything reckless, and heads home, where even if Futaba comes with issues, they make sense.

*

[Akira]: Got here safe. Sakura-san gave me a big room.

[Jun]: Good! I shipped some dried flowers with your clothes. Make sure to hang them up.

[Akira]: Okay, Papa.

[Tatsuya]: You’re going to the school tomorrow, right?”

[Akira]: Yeah.

[Tatsuya]: Let us know how that goes.

[Akira]: I will.

[Akira]: I’ll probably head to bed early. I’m tired.

[Jun]: Good night, sweetie!

[Tatsuya]: Good night.

[Akira]: Night. Love you.

[Jun]: 💖💖💖

*

Papa sent some dried lavender, so Akira hangs it by what he decides is the head of his bed. Well, “bed” is probably generous. It’s a thin mattress on a bunch of crates. He glances at the couch he just wiped down and decides the “bed” is his best bet for any kind of restful sleep.

He’s glad he convinced Dad and Papa not to come. They would never let him stay here, and this is their last hope. Akira can deal with living in an attic for a year if it means everything will go back to normal after.

He re-deletes the weird red app from his phone, goes to sleep, and dreams of a blue prison, of twin wardens, and of a man with a long nose and a deep voice.

*

[Akira]: I met my homeroom teacher. Her name is Kawakami-sensei.

[Akira]: She seems tired.

[Jun]: She had to come in on her day off. Of course she’s tired.

[Tatsuya]: Give her my cell number next time you see her. I want to introduce myself.

[Akira]: Ok, Dad.

[Jun]: Did you ride the train today?

[Akira]: No, Sakura-san drove me. I’ll have to take the train tomorrow.

[Jun]: Well, be careful, and leave a little early so you have extra time in case you get lost.

[Akira]: I know, Papa, I will.

*

The punk kid reminds Akira of Uncle Eikichi, so he feels comfortable following him to school. Which would have been fine, but the school is a castle and they’re in a dungeon and all Akira wanted was a normal day.

He feels sick—like, physically ill—when the man his schoolmate called “Kamoshida” starts beating him. It’s the same feeling Akira had before he pushed the man who sued him, encouraging him to act.

So he does.

Even when he’s pinned to the wall, he struggles. He feels a bit like a feral ccat, wriggling and hissing and clawing at the suits of armor to get free. His back is already aching; it will probably be covered in bruises come morning from how hard he’s being slammed against the brick behind him.

But he keeps fighting, because he’ll die before he lets an innocent person get hurt if he can stop it.

And then comes a voice, both new and familiar, and his head feels like it’s going to break in half because the insides are too big for his skull. Call upon my name, says the voice, and release thy rage! so Akira says, “Arsène.”

The sound of his voice alerts Kamoshida, who stops in his brutal beating of the other boy to face Akira. The blond boy is panting, covered in scratches and bruises and looking half dead already. Something flares in the back of Akira’s mind. Something primal. This boy whose name he doesn’t even know is his. He knows this like he knows the sky is blue and Aunt Maya can’t clean. It’s a fact, undeniable and true. It’s not sexual or romantic, but the boy is his, and he refuses to let Kamoshida touch him again.

“I will stop you,” he tells Kamoshida, and he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s low, guttural. Barely human. He’s gratified to see some of the color drain from Kamoshida’s face, and, emboldened, continues speaking. “You have no right to touch him.”

Kamoshida laughs, though it’s a bit shaky. “No right? I’m the king of this castle! I can do whatever I please!” He jerks his head, and one of the guards slams his shield into Akira’s face, knocking his glasses to the cell floor.

“If this is how you want to play it,” Akira says in that animalistic voice, “so be it.”

And there’s a mask on his face, and he needs to get it off get it off getitoff, so he rips it off, and he’s surrounded by blue flames that don’t burn.

*

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“You can believe or disbelieve whatever you want. I’m just telling you what happened, Prosecutor-san.”

*

The cat-monster he and the other boy rescue is familiar to Akira. He can’t really place why, just like how he knows the boy is his somehow, but this isn’t the first time he’s met Morgana. He tells himself it’s because of Arsène and Zorro and pretends that’s it until he has more time to think about it.

*

Going to school after… everything is surreal. He tells Kawakami-sensei he got lost on the subway and while he knows she doesn’t believe it, he also knows she has no proof that he’s lying. He gives her his dad’s cell number and sits behind the girl who got in Kamoshida’s car this morning and does his best to ignore his classmates’ pointed whispers.

*

The boy is Sakamoto Ryuji, Akira learns on Shujin’s roof. When Akira looks at him, he sees the white flowers of the copaiba tree, or maybe the African violet. Something that symbolizes his honesty and vitality.

He doesn't know why he has this power. He doesn’t know why the school turned into a castle and then back into a school. But he knows he wants answers and has the ability to get them, so he agrees to help Ryuji.

(Plus, he’s not about to leave Kamoshida alone with Ryuji again. Ryuji is his, and he’s going to protect what’s his.)

*

Sojiro is angry with Akira when he comes back to the café.

Maybe angry isn’t the right word. Sakura-san doesn’t really care enough about him to be angry. Irritated is more like it, Akira thinks. He gets another lecture on staying out of trouble because “I’m in the restaurant business, you know.” Akira does his best to placate Sakura-san and escapes up to the attic. He’s going to need his rest if he and Ryuji are going to make any progress tomorrow.

*

[Akira]: I think I made a friend today.

[Jun]: That’s great, honey! What’s their name?

[Akira]: His name is Ryuji. I got lost in the subway and he helped me find the school.

[Akira]: He reminds me of Uncle Eikichi.

[Tatsuya]: Just what we need. Another Michel.

[Jun]: Eikichi is a lovely person and if Akira has made a friend like him, he’s a lucky young man.

[Akira]: I think so, too.

*

It takes Akira and Ryuji an embarrassingly long while to connect the weird app on their phones to the whole school-castle thing. When they finally do, Akira is back in the strange outfit, mask and all, from yesterday and Ryuji is left in just his school uniform.

Morgana, despite his (and Akira is sure Morgana is a “he,” no matter what his name is) feigned indifference, helps Akira and Ryuji break back into the castle. And maybe it’s just Morgana’s phantom thief talk, but sneaking around like this really is exciting.

Not that Dad can ever know, Akira thinks as he strikes down another group of what Morgana calls “Shadows.” If he knew what a rush I get out of this, he’d keel over.

And that’s another thing. The fighting. Akira isn’t usually a confrontational person, assault charge notwithstanding. In elementary school, he was the kid who ran and got teachers, not the one getting into fights. But this place has a strange effect on him. It makes him animalistic in a way that should scare him.

It doesn’t. It makes him feel powerful.

*

Until he falls.

He and Morgana are lucky Kamoshida underestimated Ryuji. If he’d been pinned down like them, they would be dead.

As it is, Akira’s encouragement helps Ryuji awaken to Captain Kidd and they manage to wipe the floor with Kamoshida’s goons.

(Whatever primal thing in the back of Akira’s mind is, it’s pleased by Ryuji’s power. Akira’s just happy Ryuji can defend himself now.)

Ryuji is still worried about the volleyball team members they saw Kamoshida torturing. Sure, they’re not real, but everything in this world is a distortion of the real world, so they both know some kind of abuse is happening. And then there was the fake Takamaki and… ugh. Any teacher who thinks of an underaged student like that is the lowest of the low.

Morgana says they have to steal Kamoshida’s heart.

Akira has a lot to think about.

*

He’s waiting for the train at the Aoyama station, staring at his phone for a lack of anything better to do, when something rugs at the edge of his mind. He’s not used to hearing Arsène talking in his head just yet, so he jumps at the sound (feeling? thought?) of his low voice. Turn around.

What? Why?

Trust me. Turn around.

He’s not sure what could possibly interest Arsène so much, but Arsène is also a semi-physical manifestation of his inner self, so Akira shrugs and does as he’s told.

And freezes.

A few feet away stands a girl he never though he would see again. Sure, her hair is longer now, her face more angular, her body more lithe, but Akira would know her anywhere.

He sees the moment she catches sight of him. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in shock. For a few seconds, she is frozen, but then she rockets forward, and Akira barely has time to lift his arms before she slams into his chest. It aches a little to realize he’s more than a head taller than her now.

She’s shaking in his arms. Quietly, almost too quiet for him to hear, she says, “Akira.”

He squeezes her, impossibly gentle. “Shiho.”

#individuation #ao3fic #cover #persona series #persona 5 #persona 2

[haruki-ya]

As Good as Gone

Hm hi so here’s a lil Akira character analysis thing i’ve been working on for like ever...not sure what inspired this, it just happened and then kept happening. 

It’s pretty disjointed and like a very, very vague and self indulgent character analysis of the growth (and death) of Kaneda and Tetsuo’s relationship, written as best I could given my creative desire to make this as confusing as possible lmao. enjoy ! 

TW: brief mention of suicide 

Kid’s are mean.

Kaneda’s known that from the start. It’s in their blood, in their gap toothed smiles, and grubby hands. It’s why they have snotty noses and their voices are so high pitched. They’re mean in ways they have yet to grow out of.

(they’re mean in ways they won’t grow out of)

Kids are mean without reason to be so because they have all the reason in the world to be so.

Kaneda knows that.

Tetsuo does not. 

When Kaneda found him by the water fountain, his eyes watery and his hands shaky, all scraped knees and dirty clothes and pouty lips, he had clenched his hands into fists. Ignored the taste of blood running down the back of his throat, of the water in his own eyes.

He approached the boy with the intention of giving him back his stolen toy, the cool robot figurine that in his scuffle with the other kids to get it back, lost an arm. His steps were sure and even, shoulders held back and head up high.

Kaneda saw the boy look at him out of the corner of his eye, his head drawn down, shoulders hunched in, and he froze. His eyes were big and glossy and Kaneda didn’t see a mean bone in this boy’s body.

Kaneda reached the fountain just as the boy burst into movement, taking several steps back away from him. Kaneda gave him a once over, trying not to look too much like a predator eyeing his prey, but that’s just how it is.

On the playground, kids aren’t just mean, they’re animals.

Reaching into his pocket, he fumbled for the toy, handed it over with a smile.

“Here. This is yours, isn’t it?”

The boy stared with mute eyes, weary hands reaching out on their own accord. Kaneda stayed as still as a statue, afraid he’d scare the skittish kid off.

The boys fingers brushed softly over his palm and just like that they’d made history.

“It’s because you’re new here.” He supplied helpfully, recognizing the humiliation and pain and sadness in his eyes as he stared at the toy in his scraped hands. “They try to make it harder for the new ones. They’re just stupid. ”

The boys gaze fell to his nose, still drip dripping blood, and he grinned wide, sniffed it up back into his head.

“Me? I’m pretty new here myself. Those jerks haven’t left me a minute to myself ever since I stepped foot in this place, nothing I can’t handle though!” At the panicked look the boy sent him, he scowled and stooped low to stick his face in the steady spray of water from the fountain, feeling it in his nostrils. The water ran in pink swirls down the drain.

As he wiped his face on his sleeve, the boy’s eyes opened wide, as if he’d realizing something, and he said hurriedly through a small, shy smile, “I am...Tetsuo. Shima Tetsuo.”

Kaneda grinned widely. “Tetsuo, s’long as you stick with me, we’ll show those losers who’s the boss. I’m the King, Shotaro Kaneda, and I promise you that!”

The splatter of blood on Kaneda’s shirt, Tetsuo’s teary eyes, his hands curled tight around a broken action figure: it was enough of an indication. They’d already been defeated, ground down into dust and having blown away with the wind, they don’t care to try and find the missing pieces of themselves because they never will.

They’ll never win, but they grin anyways.

They pretend like they will, like they still have a chance.

(joke is, they were born on a losing streak)

-

“There’s something wrong with that kid.”

Yamagata is leaning in close to him, hand tapping nervously against the bar counter, stance uncomfortable, eyes dilated and bloodshot.

Kaneda glances at him over the rim of his glass: his breathing is heavy and deep and he’s gone, completely and totally out in space, but there’s something new in this brand of “fucked up”, a lingering note of paranoia, a blossoming awareness in his unfocused gaze that rubs Kaneda’s skin the wrong way.

(it’s because he’s seen that look too many times in the mirror to not know what it means)

Kaneda doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t need to hear this. He doesn’t care (but he does he needs to care) so he looks away, finds comfort at the bottom of an empty glass.

It’s the same thing every other night.

“He’s quiet, and what, with this gang, I can’t really say anything’s off bout that, it’s hard to be heard, but Kaneda, when he talks, it’s-I don’t know, it’s weird. There’s something wild in him. I hear it in his voice and it’s been in his eyes lately. You’ve seen how he is, right?”

Of course he has. It’s his job to see.

With Tetsuo, everything is a job, a responsibility, and Kaneda doesn'’t know why. He really has no reason to treat Tetsuo as if he’s his little brother, to worry for him and to worry about him.

There was never a reason, but there always was.

Tetsuo was Tetsuo and Kaneda was Kaneda. Kaneda could only fall so far. Tetsuo was born already at rock bottom. They were who they were and that was enough explanation in itself. It was for him at least.

Kaneda drinks on in silence, ignores Yamagata as he reaches into his pocket for a pill, feeling his eyes pulse in his head and pressure ache in his temples. Yamagata sighs in frustration, watches raptly as the pill disappears into his mouth.

“You saw how he was tonight, Kaneda. What the fuck was that about? One second he’s in the hospital, the next he’s sending someone to the hospital.”

Kaneda still says nothing, swallows the pill dry like he does Yamagata’s words.

“When the cops came and we split up,  I caught a glimpse of him all by his lonesome with a fat fucking grin on his face, going faster than I’d ever seen him go before, man. He’s not a team player anymore. I don’t know if he ever was. He’s just-he’s not the same.”

Yamagata watches him intently, eyes cloudy like the air in their lungs- breathe in, breathe out.

Kaneda watches back.

With a scoff, Yamagata pushes roughly away from him, snags a glass from the counter and downs the contents. He glances at Tetsuo, sitting in a secluded booth in the far corner, gaze on the dirty table, hands clenched tight around a can of beer, bloody and bruised and blank in all senses of the word.

“He’s changed, Kaneda...and something needs to be done about him, don’t you know?”

Kaneda watches him go, watches them all go, watches Tetsuo sneak out the back, careful, dark eyes finding his across the bar. Their gaze lingers and then-

He’s gone too.

Kaneda sighs and his head falls back, eyes closed.

It’s late and he should be tired. He should be somewhere else. It’s closing time and he should be gone and in his bed but

-something needs to be done about him, don’t you know?

“Of course I do.” He breathes out, frustrated, expecting an answer-from who?

The barkeep tells him it’s time to go.

Of course it is.

-

“I am...”

-

“Tetsuo!”

Kaneda is scared.

He’s scared for his life and for Tetsuo’s life and Kaori is dead and Akira isn’t and everything is chaos.

The stadium is crumbling and Tetsuo is growing, he’s getting bigger and his screams hurt, they burn Kaneda’s ears, thunderstorms in his head, louder louder louder and louder

-kaneda help me someone help help me help me kaneda kaori oh kaori she hurts we hurt it HURTS make it STOP help kaneda HELP me MAKEITSTOPKANEDAMAKEITSTOP-

Kaneda wants to go back to reform school, to Harukiya, to bike rides at ungodly hours in the morning, adrenaline rushes (but not like this) and wind in his hair, along his skin, through his soul, ripping him apart.

He wants to go back to pills and punching and people he doesn’t know, frozen faces at high speeds, higher than higher, as high as he can get and Tetsuo, Kaneda wants Tetsuo back, wants his friend who never had a real mean bone in his body, who cried a lot and ran from what he truly wanted, too shy to get it for himself, all synthesized anger and aggression and courage, frustrating and aggravating and impossible as he is

He wants him back.

“Tetsuo!”

His throat is raw from screaming and he feels like he’s about to pass out, he’s shaking and the ground is shaking and the world is ending this can’t be happening but then there is a blinding light and Kaneda can’t see anything, can’t see anything other than Tetsuo looking at him with those big wide eyes of his, calling for him, reaching for him and you have to help him kaneda you need to help him he deserves that much (and so much more a kid just a kid a poor fucking kid) it’s not his fault it’s yours it’s theirs it’s akira’s it’s his it’s his it’s all tetsuo’s fault HE’S JUST A KID

He is consumed and then they are no more.

-

Together, the three of us, we can save that innocent boy-

-

“Kaneda!”

He barely managed to hear Tetsuo call his name over the howl of the wind, over the shouts of glee and excitement, over the rumble and grumble of their engines. Kaneda turned to look at him, head light with exhilaration, breathless, shaking and quaking, at peace with his bike and the road.

He could crash. This was risky, hands in the air, brakes off, vision swimming, everything a risk, and he could crash, he could die, but that’s what made it so much better and for all the pills they’d taken tonight, Tetsuo looked how he felt: fucking amazing.

“Race you to Harukiya’s, Kaneda! Loser get’s the bill!”

And then he was gone, weaving around Kai and Yamagata, who hollered and laughed, taking off in pursuit of some chase they were never apart of.

And Kaneda gripped his handlebars, revved his engine to catch up, he did, because he was broke as shit and he was the notorious leader of The Capsules for a reason, but when Tetsuo looked back at him over his shoulder, eyes wide, grin like fire, cheeks burning with the wind and hair blown back, he was alive.

He was alive, Kaneda marveled, he was high and dry and alive.

He pretended his bike was low on battery and endured being the butt of every joke and insult for the night because Tetsuo’s burning smile, seared into his head, was so worth it.

-

People are mean.

Kaneda’s known that from the get go. It’s in their coding, in their wiring, in the circuitry that makes up their asinine personalities and infuriating complexes. It’s in their greed and anger and hate and selfishness (they’re mean because they don’t know what else to be, and they never will.)

People are mean for plenty of reasons, but not for enough reasons that matter.

Kaneda knows that.

And this time, so does Tetsuo.

When Kaneda found him by the ramp on Highway 14, his eyes swollen shut and his knuckles stained red, all torn clothes and broken bones and bloody lips, surrounded by Clowns, he had clenched his hands into fists and inhaled shakily, ignoring the tint of red that veiled his vision, the white hot rage that told him to bash their fucking heads together.

He approached the group of bikers with threats of pain in his eyes, hands clenched boldly into fists, nails digging crescent moons into his palms, through his gloves. Eagerly anticipating the bite and crunch of bone under his fists. His steps quick and paced, shoulders taut with anger and head bowed in disgust.

Kaneda saw Tetsuo look at him out of the corner of his eye, his head back against the pavement, shoulders lax with pain, and he was frozen. His eyes narrowed and blank and Kaneda didn’t see an unbroken bone in this boy’s body.

Kaneda’s anger ebbed as he reached the ugly ass group of jokers and his boys burst into movement, leaping at the clowns with pipes and baseball bats to get them away from Tetsuo. Kaneda gave him a once over, trying not to look too much like he’s reevaluating his worth, but that’s just how it is.

On the highway, people aren’t just mean, they’re merciless.

Reaching out his hand, he kneeled down next to Tetsuo, found his eyes, already watching him.

“Here. Can you get up Tetsuo?”

He stared with quiet eyes, battered hands reaching out on their own accord. Kaneda stayed as still as a statue, afraid he’d hurt Tetsuo.

The boys hands hovered over his arm, hesitant, pushed it roughly away and just like that they’ve changed history.

“Come on Tetsuo, you look like shit, you can’t really be trying to get up on your own right now.” 

Kaneda’s voice was flat, patronizing in his own ears. He recognized the anger and pain and hatred in Tetsuo’s eyes as he stared at the hand Kaneda had pushed into his face once again.

“We’ll take care of those sorry bastards for you.”

The boys gaze fell to his cut cheek, still drip dripping blood, and Kaneda raised an eyebrow, touched the wound idly and it stung.

“Don’t you worry bout lil ol’ me. Those assholes are the only ones that are gonna be feeling the heat tonight.” At the unamused look Tetsuo sent him, he scowled and jerked up just in time to watch Yamagata kick some fat bozo over the side of the ramp they’re on, blood on his hands, a smile on his face. 

The sewers stained red.

As he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, Tetsuo stumbled to his feet, as if drunk, and hissed painfully through his red, clenched teeth, “I am...fine. I don’t need your help.”

Kaneda stared harshly at Tetsuo. “S’long as you’re as stupid and reckless and stubborn as you are, you will. I promise you that much Tetsuo!”

The smear of blood on Kaneda’s cheek, Tetsuo’s dry eyes, his hands curled tight around a broken wrist:  it was enough of an indication. They’d always been fractured, fucked up beyond repair and having been born that way, they don’t care to try and find a way to fix themselves because they never will.

They’ll never be whole, but they grin anyways.

They pretend like they will, like they still have a chance.

(thing is, they were never meant to be happy)

-

“I am…”

-

watching him watching Kei is watching him. He feels her gaze hot and heavy in the back of his mind and he shakes it away, runs his hands through his hair and touches his head to the ground.

Kaneda needs stability, needs to feel the crumbled cement beneath him, needs to feel alone in his own head right now. He needs to know it’s all over but it can’t be over and he’s so fucking conflicted he’s so confused. He grinds his head into the ground, clenches his eyes and fists and he yells a broken sound into the broken cement.

Kei takes a step towards him and he makes her stop he tells her to stop but he doesn’t say one word and she pauses, freezes where she stands. She heard him loud and clear.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Tetsuo is gone and not even ten minutes ago he was right there, he was a kid with scraped knees and a broken toy and teary eyes and Kaneda was right there and he should have said something, he should have saved him, he-

was never supposed to save him.

Tetsuo finally took control, finally decided to do what he wanted, not what he was told, not what was already chosen for him. He wove his own path and he-

was never supposed to make it out alive.

Because the truth is, they’re only transient.

All of them. Every single one.  

Even the Gods.

-

but someday we will be...

-

“-as good as gone.”

-

“I am…”

-

“Number 41...what the hell is that?”

Kaneda’s parked on his couch, impatience in his voice, a pill or two working steadily through his system. He’s got a stack of Kai’s skin mag’s and more than enough sexual frustration in his system that he’s genuinely surprised Tetsuo hasn’t smelled the testosterone, hasn’t taken a hint, hasn’t moved from where he’s been standing in the doorway for almost five minutes, talking nonsense.

He wears a cold sweat on his brow like a badge, eyes fever bright and crazy intense, hands shaking, and suddenly it hit’s Kaneda, hard, that Tetsuo looks like shit and he’s practically just gotten back from the hospital.

There’s still a bandage wrapped, snow white, nice and tight around his dark mused hair, a gauze pad bulging out beneath it.

Kaneda sits up and blinks the fuzziness from his vision, takes a closer look at Tetsuo, watches how he shifts and his eyes drift away and then back to him, away, back again.

“I heard them, Kaneda. They were talking about me, but it wasn’t me. I was Number 41 and he was...special. They were saying I was Number 41 but I’m not and I’m not Akira and I don’t fucking know who Akira even is but he’s everywhere and he is everything and Kaneda, I can’t think right.”

At this point Kaneda stands up, slowly, because he’s worried now, he’s worried for Tetsuo he’s not making sense-

“I-I feel like something’s wrong with my head, it hurts. It hurts real fuckin bad Kaneda. And-and the pills help, but the pain’s still there. Akira’s still there, Number 41 is still there, you...you’re still there.”

This is where he takes a cautious step towards Tetsuo, whose eyes are roving over his face, then tracing the curve of the ceiling, the curve of his jaw, tracing the crack in the window-

“Of course I’m still here Tetsuo. I told you a long time ago, as long as you stick with me, we’ll show the world what we’re made of, yeah? You and me and our bikes and our boys. We’re all we’ve got.”

Tetsuo’s eyes drift towards him and they stay there: his gaze is hypnotizing, startling, reminding Kaneda of clear summer nights on top of the highest most dizzying buildings they can find, stars in the sky and beer cans and gusts of wind and standing too close to the edge, a breath away from falling-

“I’m sorry.” Tetsuo speaks so quietly Kaneda barely hears him over the neighbors, voice like it was when they were kids: soft, unsure, so so sad.

And suddenly Kaneda has no idea who this person is.

“Sorry? Wha...-for what?” Tetsuo’s gaze is gone again, locked on something he can’t see with his own eyes and Kaneda sighs, slumps his shoulders, shucks off his jacket and throws it over the pile of magazines he had planned on getting seriously acquainted with.

They can wait. Tetsuo cannot.

“Alright, hear me out. We’ve got no place to be for a while, and it’s late, why not crash here? We can drink some beer, watch T.V. from the hag’s place across the way and chill, yeah? You can crash here on my nice, comfortable couch and I’ll take that old, rickety, uncomfortable bed, cause you deserve nothin but the best. How bout it?”

He claps his hands together and grins wide, hoping to get Tetsuo’s attention and it works. His eyes stray towards him and they look more normal now, albeit a little lost.

It takes a minute for Tetsuo to answer.

“...There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping on that shitty old piece of trash again. Honestly, Kanny, it hardly qualifies as furniture, even if it does tie in with this pigsty…”

Kaneda’s jaw just about drops.

“You little shit! Like you’ve got any reason to be sayin that to me when you’re the one living in a junkie’s outhouse.” Tetsuo bristles, predictably, thankfully, pushes away from the threshold and his eyes gleam, face thunderous with humilated anger and indignation and this is the Tetsuo that Kaneda knows, not the one Yamagata keeps preaching about, what, with his heavy brow and stiff face and wild eyes, this is the kid he’s always been unreasonably fond of.

That is until he kicks Kaneda in the shin and tackles him onto the ‘shitty old piece of trash.’

“You asshole!”

-

There isn’t a funeral service for Tetsuo.

Not surprising, really. Tokyo is in shambles, tragedy fresh on everyone's minds.

The truth of the matter on very few.

Kaneda spends many sleepless nights playing the events of Tetsuo’s last days over and over in his head, wondering how it could have gone differently. If there was any possibility of things going differently. If he should have done anything differently.

He knows it's in vain, their paths strayed long before this bullshit happened, but Kaneda doesn’t know what else to do.

Kei drifts in and out of his apartment, bringing hot food from the shelters, trying vainly to coax him out of this deep, dark place he has found himself in with conversation about the ongoing reconstruction of the ruined town. Kaisuke visits once or twice a week, says very little, cries a lot. They sit together in mostly silence and smoke, drink, pop pills.

Try and act as if the city hasn’t just been blown to hell and all their friends are dead.

Kaneda, when he manages to fall asleep, dreams of Tetsuo. Sees flashes of him behind his eyelids when he’s awake. Hears whispers of his voice in the passing breeze.

He’s at a loss, doesn’t know where to go from here. Tells Kei this much one night on the roof of the abandoned building, standing close to the edge. He looks down on the destroyed city that used to be their playground.

Theirs.

Kei sidles up next to him suddenly and takes his hand into hers. Kaneda doesn’t look at her. She squeezes his palm tightly within hers. He doesn’t squeeze back.

“You go forward, stupid. That’s the only place you have a right to be going.”

A gust of air suddenly whips around them, making Kaneda sway on his feet and Kei cling a little more tightly to his hand. He stopped thinking about falling days ago.

A whisper sounds in his head, soft, unsure, and so so sad. He can’t tell whose voice it is anymore.

“Tetsuo chose his own path. He chose to chase after that power and use it no matter the consequences. Recklessly and heavy handedly, he chased after the thrill like you taught him and yeah...it sure as hell backfired on him. But despite that, at least in the end...he got what he wanted.”

Kaneda looks at her suddenly, curious as to what the hell she’s getting at. She always had a way of making him feel lost.  

She’s gazing out over the dark horizon of their wrecked town like he had been moments ago, like he has been for years. On her face is a smile that’s a little too bitter to look convincing, but its softened by the tears in her eyes.

“He had you on his side all the way to the end.”

Kaneda’s eyes rove over Kei’s face and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It turns into a chuckle, incredulous and breathless. Kei’s eyes meet his and he matches her smile as something lights up in his chest, painful and raw and relieving. A dam breaks inside him and he’s laughing loudly now, thinking back to the first time he meet Tetsuo...just a sad, shy, powerless kid all alone in this mean world.

(s’long as you stick with me, we’ll show those losers who’s the boss)

“Yeah…”

He thinks about how he imagined Tetsuo being the one to chase him to the ends of the world, to follow him wherever he went like the meek, aimless kid he always seemed to be. 

Kaneda thought it would be himself throwing the wrench into the machine, fucking up the world big time and kick starting the revolution this shitty, merciless town needed.

But the shtick got old, and the tables got turned.

The powerless became the powerful.

Kaneda always thought he was a winner and never really saw the same in Tetsuo. Never really thought he would see himself in a position to fall so far, to lose so much. But still...

“He always did need someone to watch his back.”

-

#akira #tetsuo shima #kaneda shotaro #fiction #character analysis #?? #idk man #had this in my drafts for a while #finally decided to finish it #it's like #kinda weird #and not very good #but at the same time i am very happy with it #kei #kei (akira) #kaisuke #kaisuke (akira) #kaori (akira) #story #my writing

[phntasmgoria]

7/7

FINALLY

#[ a fullmetal heart // edward elric ] #[ a kind soul shielded in armor // alphonse elric ] #[ it's a terrible day for rain // roy mustang ] #[ blissful malevolence // lust ] #[ born from the love of a mother // sloth (2003) ] #[ prince's protector // lan fan ] #[ sent from heaven born from hell // pride ] #[ a bullet in your back to keep you in line // riza hawkeye ] #[ a walking contradiction // van hohenheim ] #[ twin tailed disaster // mitsuba sangu ] #[ can you teach me how to feel real // mikaela hyakuya ] #[ when i rule the world // krul tepes ] #[ who shot that arrow in your throat // yoichi saotome ] #[ the man with two souls // guren ichinose ] #[ born from mud and living to destroy // kabane kusaka ] #[ frozen innocence // akira ] #[ frozen guilt // yui ] #[ an obedient kitsune // kon ] #[ a controlling kitsune // yoko inari ] #[ he who lives in darkness // mihai florescu ] #[ she who spun the golden thread // kumi yamagumonoko ] #[ the tender man of the diamond // alice bloodworth ] #[ the burning queen // hadley bellflower ] #[ the waking waters // azure felmier ] #[ the tip of my tongue running with supreme bliss // tabitha nowell ] #[ an exchanged fate // whitley kingston ] #[ the guardian angel of a ghost // viridian sangere ] #[ now i'm stuck rotting six feet under // annabel winter ]

[persona-rrau]

Ficlet: Nostalgia.

Here’s a bonus ficlet! It’s a universal version fic, just a small little aside in the universe to showcase one of the more peaceful moments between Minato and Akira when they’re not dealing with so much political intensity. Enjoy!

- straylize

The winters in Bufula were cold—but the summers weren’t exactly balmy, either. Though it was midway through the eight month of the year, the lake located just east of Kirijo Manor was frozen solid. The day was young, just past sunrise, and thanks to that, it was barren. Save for the sounds of morning doves cooing in the trees, it was nearly silent.

And for that reason, it was a perfect time for Minato and Akira to take to the ice. Minato had been adamant that as they had planned their trip to the Kirijan capital for a political summit—he wanted to skate at least once. The temperate weather of Oratorio and the regions surrounding it made it difficult for him to do anytime beyond trips to the cold north. Akira, of course, was compelled to oblige, despite his discomfort with the attire for skating they owned. It was Minato’s request, and therefore, he had to make sure it would work.

Even if that meant skating at sunrise, so that nobody would catch the King while he was vulnerable.

...And maybe, just maybe so they could have a moment to themselves. Stolen like many when they left the capital, though what that entailed could never really be predicted.

“We’ve arrived,” Akira stated the words simply; it was an obvious statement, but one he was obligated to make in this scenario.

Minato offered a nod in response, but before they could edge any closer to the ice, he paused, allowing for his head to tilt to one side. He looked over Akira curiously (and perhaps, he knew, a bit self-indulgently, for he looked different in the best possible way in their skating attire) before following up with a question.

“Akira, do you even know how to ice skate?”

The question could have been perceived as rude thanks to Minato’s quiet, dry tone; Akira knew that it was a sincere question, though. Akira didn’t often go anywhere without Minato, and in the past, Akira had never shown much aptitude for skating, nor did he show an interest at any point in the past. It was a bit of a curious matter to him, because for all that he knew Akira would likely just recklessly go out onto the ice without knowing what he was doing, he had no interest in seeing his retainer get hurt over something so trivial.

Akira, for his part, though, seemed far more confident than Minato would have expected. His lips curved upward into a rarely seen smug smile as he pushed his spectacles up on the bridge of his nose.

“Naturally, my lord,” He hummed, and Minato was able to feel a faint warmth rising to his cheeks. Akira spoke like that so infrequently in his presence in recent years that he’d nearly forgotten how he used to always be ruled by his own fearlessness. Years of discipline and necessity had changed that a bit—yet still, it was warming to hear that tone from him and know it still existed somewhere. “There’s nothing you wish to do that I am unable to partake in as well.”

Minato offered a quiet, acknowledging hum as he motioned toward the bench at lakeside; they had to put their skates on, though Akira wasted no time in guiding him to sit and tend to switching his shoes out for skates.

“When did you learn? I’ve never seen you skate.” The question was quiet, innocent, curious. As Akira kneeled in the snow and began to lace up Minato’s skates—slowly, carefully, and thoroughly as to ensure they were completely secure—a small, fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“It was a part of my training, of course,” Akira was capable of lying with ease. He did so often, especially when it meant keeping Minato’s worries at ease. “Do you remember, my lord? When we were twelve, I accompanied Mother here to Bufula for work. I was gone for three weeks.”

Minato remembered it, of course. Back in a time before formalities, when they stopped using childish nicknames to seem more mature, but still spoke to each other casually. Back then, Akira would have long days of combat training and end the night by sneaking into Minato’s room, where they’d huddle up by the candlelight to read adventure stories that came from the palace library. They’d talk about their dreams of adventure and derring-do, of fighting the dragons they were sure rested in the Dusk Forest to the northwest.  They would laugh and shirk responsibilities for just a little while, and back then, Minato didn’t worry when Akira came back a little bruised.

Back then, he couldn’t tell the difference between Akira’s truths and his lies. He would lay claim to being tired, all the while hiding the beatings he took for refusing to comply with the kingdom’s decrees. He would smile, and Minato couldn’t see the melancholy or the pain.

It wasn’t like the present. Not now, where Minato could see through Akira like a sheet of glass. Akira smiled as he spoke, but what he knew was that Akira was lying, at least to some degree.

And he wasn’t wrong. Back then, Akira had begged to be able to go to Bufula. He wanted to learn to skate, because Minato spoke of wanting to do it, and Akira wanted to be sure he could keep up with his best friend.

Not his lord, not the king, not the prince. Just his best friend.

He had created an entire presentation to the elder Kurusu that the prince expressed an interest in such things, and therefore it was his duty to learn how to ice skate. It was certainly a flimsy argument, but his father had seen it as a learning opportunity—if nothing else, Akira showed dedication and loyalty to Minato, despite his casual demeanor and insolence when it came to the rules. And so Akira was permitted to spend three weeks in the frozen metropolis, accompanied by his mother. The son of the Kirijo’s retainer and future heir to the position, Akihiko Sanada, and his commoner friend Shinjiro Aragaki had taught him; they’d spent those weeks ensuring that Akira could skate as well as Minato would have been taught. When Akira returned to the capital, he never spoke of it, only calling it training.

It took thirteen years, but that training was finally ready to be put into practice.

And though Minato knew he was lying, he didn’t press Akira for the truth. His smile may have been fond and nostalgic, but it lacked the tone and presence that indicated Akira was hiding anything troublesome from him.

“I remember. It was… very quiet, those nights.” Minato responded softly; that much was true. He had missed Akira every day, reading those books and missing the commentary of Akira’s grandiose ideas of adventure.

Akira let out a quiet hum of his own as he set Minato’s foot on the ground before he shifted to take the seat beside him. He wasn’t as thorough about his own skates; he made quick work of lacing them up before he pulled himself to his feet once more.

“I suppose you don’t have many of those now, so you should remember them fondly,” Akira dismissed that loneliness they’d both quietly felt as he held out a hand to assist Minato in standing.

“Though it looks as if you’ll have a quiet morning. Shall we, my lord?”

Minato nodded, smile gentle as he placed the palm of his hand against Akira's. A touch bigger than his, it was warm; he could feel Akira’s natural heat emanating through their gloves, and though the contact wasn’t direct, it was something he elected to treasure, so he could look back on that much more fondly than the lonely nights they’d been apart as kids.

“As long as I’m allowed to laugh if you fall. Thirteen years means you’re probably pretty rusty, Akira.”

A gentle quip came from Minato, and in response, Akira held back his own sharp tongue; instead, he guided Minato toward the surface of the icy lake so they could have their fleeting, quiet morning, before things would certainly revert to the formalities and tensions they so often had to deal with.

#royalty/retainer au #minato arisato #akira kurusu #pegokita #universal vers #persona 3 #persona 5 #fanfiction

[ao3feed-p5-boyslove]

by akc

“Do you not like my coconut shampoo?” Akira asks with fake innocence, smiling. “I—” Akechi begins, and then stops. He holds his finger up very matter of factly, frozen as he thinks.

Words: 15398, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Persona 5

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Akechi Goro, Kurusu Akira, Sakamoto Ryuji, Takamaki Ann

Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Roommates, Banter, Fluff and Angst, a lot of conversations about laundry

#akeshu #shuake #akira kurusu #goro akechi #persona

[menatiera]

Inktober Day 2: Barefoot (based on this prompt list) Pairing: StarkSpangledWinterHawk - focused on Winteriron Length: 1300 words Summary: Bucky is sleepwalking when he has a bad dream. Tony comforts him. @akira-of-the-twilight

Tony jerked awake because of the absence. He rubbed at the ARC-reactor and briefly thought with dream-foggy brain, wow, I did get used to their presence. He didn't expect that, but here he was, missing his boyfriends even while sleeping. He yawned, and get up to retreat to their room... only to realize he was in their room already. Only the others weren't.

His mind finally kicked in, giving him the necessary information that Steve and Clint were both on a mission, so them being away was completely normal, nothing to worry about. Bucky, on the other hand... he should've been here. They fall asleep wrapped in each others’ arms. Tony's heartbeat skyrocketed. "Friday?", he asked quietly, out of breath in a second. The AI was not as familiar with him as Jarvis were - probably never ever will -, but she responded immediately.

"Mr. Barnes left twenty minutes ago, and is currently located in the swimming pool area."

The answer only made Tony's worry worse, and he basically sprinted out of the room, toward the lower level.

How did Bucky even get down there? The doors should've been locked and sealed. It's not like mere doors could hold back the former Winter Soldier long, but breaking one means alerting Friday, and therefore alerting Tony, and...

Tony stopped as soon as he entered the hall. Bucky was near the open blue of the water. He wore his pajamas: comfortable Hawkeye-purple sweetpants, an Iron Man hoodie and Steve's original dog tags around his neck. (Actually, all of his clothes were Avengers-themed. Since Bucky realized the first floor gift shop could provide any and every clothing item with the team's merchanise, he refused to wear anything else.) He was also barefoot, frozen in his place with one foot in a puddle, and Tony's heart sank as he realized his boyfriend was silently sobbing between muttered words.

"Hey, sweetheart", Tony called, but got no response at all. Bucky's posture was tense and submissive: shoulders hunched, metal arm loose next to him and flesh arm hugging his own torso. His head was so lowered that a vertebra was painfully sticked out on the nape of his neck.

Tony moved closer cautiously. "Baby, whatever it is, it'll be all right." He got around the other man in as big circle as the pool allowed him, and walked closer from the front. Bucky stared at the ground, blind, unblinking. Tony cursed under his breath.

Just as he expected: Bucky was trapped in one of his nightmares. Good dreams never made him sleepwalking.

That's why Tony installed a door-locking protocol to the Tower. To avoid Bucky wandering away until he comes to his senses. "Friday, how did Bucky end up here?"

"I'm afraid Mr. Barnes overrode my protocol, boss."

"In his sleep?"

"In his sleep", Friday confirmed, and damn, that was impressive. Tony wasn't sure that anyone beside Bucky and Natasha would be able to hack into his AI, and they had the advantage of knowing how Tony and Friday worked, but doing it while not really conscious? Damn.

Tony forced himself to pay attention to the present situation, since drooling over the Soldier's hacking abilities was pointless at the moment. He couldn't understand Bucky's quiet Russian murmuring, since he was barely audible, but he'd recognize that tone anywhere: that was the sound of being in pain and begging for relief.

A Hydra memory, then.

Tony had to decide what to do. Doctors, including Bruce, always warned against waking up the sleepwalking person, especially if that person was an unpredictable supersoldier with a healing brain from past trauma, but letting Bucky stay in some godawful nightmare was on the edge of torture. Tony was always the man of risks, and just standing and watching his boyfriend's suffering while not doing anything was really out of the question.

He clapped his hands three times, almost aggressively loud.

Bucky cried out and staggered backwards.

"Bucky, James, it's okay, it's me!", Tony called at the same time, and was already next to Bucky, hugging him close to his chest, ignoring the fact that he could’ve been killed by a single blow if Bucky would react violently.

"Net, pozhaluysta...", the first two word still came out in Russian, but then Bucky woke up more, and he shut up to finally assess his surroundings. His sobs were cut the moment he was awake, but his face was still wet with tears. "Tony..."

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty", Tony murmured into his ears, tightening his hold on him. "It was a dream, just a nightmare, it's over now."

Bucky clutched to Tony like his life depended on it, but still he moved both of them backward, floundering away from the light-reflected surface of the water. He shut his eyes close, and took some shaky breaths, trying to ground himself.

"Wasn't just a dream", he argued, and he sounded weak. Tony's heart ached, but at the same time, he felt proud. It took a long time for Bucky to open up to anyone, and Tony was honoured to be among the trusted few. "Memory."

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want."

"I don't want", Bucky shrugged. "But Doc says I can't repress everything", he added after a brief pause. "Wet. The water. It... They used...", he stammered with his words, and he had to start again. "Electricity. As a punishment. They locked me up in a cell where there was always water on the floor and if I misbeheaved... it just needed a little spark and... y'know I was already afraid of electricity." He hid his face behind his metal palm. Tony hold him closer and tried to bottle up his anger toward long-dead people, to be as calm and collected and reassuring as his boyfriend needed right now. "Because of the machine. And I'd... I wanted to do anything just to avoid... God, I did so much to..."

That was the point where Tony lost it and couldn't hold back his words. "No, baby, it's not your fault, remember? We're over this, it's not your fault, all the blame is on them, you are innocent in their crime. And it won't happen ever again, I promise, I swear, we'd never let it happen again."

Bucky still didn't lift his head.

"I know it's awful, Bucky, believe me, I know." Tony had his own share of torture and water-related trauma, and after tonight, he was quite sure he won't even bear to shower for a few days. "But you can trust me, you can trust us. Me and Steve and Clint? We'd die before we let anyone harm you again, sweetheart."

Bucky finally let his hand fall to his side, and instead he hid his face in Tony's shirt. "I know", he whispered.

They stand there for a while, hugging each other. Tony enjoyed Bucky's warm presence in the embrace, and felt the slow process as the other's pulse resettled into its normal, steady rhythm. The fact that he was able to offer comfort to Bucky made him felt better too, helped him to calm down as well.

"I'm sorry", Bucky said after a good ten minutes of silence.

"You don't have to", Tony reassured him. "Wanna call Steve or Clint?"

"Nah, I'd rather stay with you", Bucky confessed, and Tony couldn't suppress a happy smile at that. Bucky lifted Tony's hand to his mouth and gave a light kiss on it. "My one and only Mechanic."

"And my one and only tin soldier", Tony teased back immediately. The silly nicknames showed they were over the hardest part of the night. "And Bucky?"

"Hm?"

"From now on, we'll sleep with socks on. These tiles are freezing my feet."

Bucky chuckled back a little laugh. "If you say so..."

#marvel #inktober #sswh month #starkspangledwinterhawk #winteriron #my writing #ficlet #bucky barnes #tony stark #clint barton #steve rogers #winter soldier #iron man #hawkeye #captain america #sleepwalking #nightmares #hurt/comfort #hugging #prompt fill

[taintedkibou]

beauty & vice - part five

[can be read on Ao3 as well] [part one] [part two] [part three] [part four]

“Mi-shi-ma.”

Mishima recognized the cheerful voice, but he only saw a blur before he was pushed into the dark tool shed. The wood was cracked and splintered, letting in slivers of light. Not enough to see his attacker. “Kurusu…?”

“Hmm?”

Mishima shuddered at the warm breath ghosting across his neck. “Wh…What are you doing?”

“I tripped.” The soft chuckle that followed the obvious lie was far from innocent.

‘Bull!’ Mishima took a shaky breath, releasing it slowly. “I already told you, I’m… I don’t—I’m not scared of you!” No, that wasn’t right. The door creaked open before he could correct himself, flooding the small space with light. Mishima would describe the look on Akira’s face as hauntingly terrifying, but he felt no fear, just as he’d been told. 

Akira licked his lips, a wolf circling its prey. “I always knew you weren’t. I need your help, Yuuki.” He slipped an arm around Mishima’s shoulder, keeping just an inch of distance between their bodies. “What do you think happened to Kamoshida? Do you really believe he had a change of heart?”

“Yes,” Mishima blurted out without a second thought. “Because—” He emitted a sharp cry of pain after biting his tongue.

Akira’s fingers gently squeezed Mishima’s shoulder. “Because…?” he prodded.

“I set up an unofficial site. I meant it as a joke, but people have taken it seriously.” Apprehension forgotten, Mishima dug out his phone and pulled up the proof of his efforts. The mobile layout had a color scheme identical to the one chosen for the “calling card” delivered to Kamoshida. Tapping a few links, Mishima held the higher for the other to get a good look. “A few names were left by people suggesting their hearts needed changing. Those same people came back later to say that it happened!”

Akira chuckled softly as Mishima bounced in place.

“I wanted to show you and Sakamoto. You guys seemed interested in Kamoshida’s case. But… I guess you already found it.” Mishima peeked up at the brunet with shy admiration. “I’m not sure how you do it—”

“All in due time,” Akira interrupted, giving Mishima’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while now, but Ryuji thought you were still innocent. I’m really glad I don’t have to give you a roundabout explanation.”

“You needed my help…?” Mishima reminded him.

Akira’s eyes shone. “Yes. I’m taking Ryuji with me to take care of a few corrupted hearts tonight, but I need you working on a bigger project.” He used his free hand to pull something from his jacket’s pocket.

Mishima gaped at the note dangling in front of him. It was an original “calling card”, but the recipient was not Kamoshida. ‘Which means…!’

“If you’ll make a few copies of these for me, it’ll really be a great help. There’s also something else, but... it can wait until the end of the month.” The contemplative look on Akira’s face vanished, replaced with exaggerated glee. He was indeed glad for Mishima’s help, but with all his brand new toys, he had to put on a show. Leaning down, Akira pressed his lips to Mishima’s cheek, feeling it slowly grow warmer. “Don’t get caught, okay?”

“Yes,” Mishima rushed out, slowly accepting the “calling card”.

Akira gave Mishima another “good luck” kiss on the afternoon of May 31st. Which may have been a mistake on his part, but he had no intention of taking it back. This one was on the lips. The short brunet became frozen in place, the stack of papers almost slipping from his hands. They were smaller than Kamoshida’s, printed on a firm cardstock. Akira used his index finger to hold them in place, waiting for Mishima’s brain to come back online.

“Stop doing that!” the smaller teen hissed, drawing himself away.

Akira plastered on his best smile, “I can’t help it. I love teasing cute boys.”

Mishima’s eyes grew impossibly wider, the calling cards rustling as he trembled. “That’s not… funny. Anyway… I need to go.” He pointed over his shoulder, unable to take his eyes off Akira’s smiling face. “If I stay too long, they’ll figure out the camera is on a loop.”

“They won’t,” Akira argued. “You’re too smart for that.”

Mishima was already backing away with slow, calculated steps. Akira’s smile was blinding, made worse by the afternoon sun shining high above his head. Mishima had no interest other than the weird friendship they already had, but this person was toying with his emotions in a horrible way. With a quick bow, he disappeared to complete his task.

Humming softly, Akira headed in the opposite direction.

—

Sir Madarame Ichiryusai, a great sinner of vanity whose talent has been exhausted. You are an artist who uses his authority to shamelessly steal the ideas of his pupils. We have decided to make you confess all your crimes with your own mouth. We will take your distorted desires without fail.

The argument between the thieving artist and staff member meant nothing to him. Akira’s main focus was Madarame’s body language. Of course Madarame would be upset; his evening was being threatened. No. Akira needed another sign that the Shadow was on full alert. Madarame’s previous stomping came to a halt and he appeared almost relaxed despite the threat looming over his head. That was what he was looking for. Akira browsed through the exhibit, slowly making his way to the exit. Once outside, he tried not to skip back to where the other two waited.

Ryuji straightened from his slouched position immediately after spotting him. “Well?”

“He read it,” Akira hummed. “Since he’s not at the house, let’s enter the Palace from there. Less chance of being caught.”

“This ends tonight,” Yusuke told them, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Ryuji grinned, bumping shoulders with his boyfriend. “We’ll show ‘em.”

Akira trailed behind the couple, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It did nothing to hide the excitement brewing in his eyes or the wild smile still spreading across his face. It was now or never. The sooner they ended things, the more time he would have to play with his favorite boys.

xxx

Even though they entered with a mission to complete, Joker decided to test his new ability one more time. He started them from the bottom floor where Shadows were somewhat weaker. The creepy zombie chicken whined at him and Joker lifted his hand to his mask. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he'd felt last time. Fear. Rage. Protect what's mine. He ripped the mask free. Apsaras remained and Succubus joined her. Joker let out a breathless laugh. "The power of thought really is amazing."

Skull shared in his excitement with a loud hoot, and Fox reprimanded them both in a stern voice.

Luckily for them, bullets were Onmoraki’s weakness. A few shots from Joker downed the creatures, leaving them vulnerable to an all-out attack. Pleased with the results, Joker marched forward.

After making their way to the central garden, the small group took a break in the nearby safe room.

"How do you remember their weaknesses?" Yusuke inquired, katana flat on the table they sat at. Ryuji leaned back in his chair, eyes locking on their leader.

Akira brushed his hair from his eyes, using his mask to conveniently hold them back. Ryuji smirked at the action. "It seems pointless to just say I remember. I think the Persona I can summon tells me. I carry everything we've faced off against so far, so they remind me what hurts them." He sighed deeply, lowering his head. "It sounds stupid."

"It does," Yusuke hummed, never one for mincing words. "But considering all that I've seen—everything that I'm experiencing... I'm willing to believe you." He reached across the table, covering Akira's gloved hand with his own, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You are very strong. Joker."

Akira inhaled sharply and Ryuji righted his chair with a laugh, "I was wondering when that perverted side of you would make an appearance."

Akira opened his mouth to argue, but was silence by a sharp squeeze to his hand.

"If I recall, Ryuji..."

Ryuji's smug grin melted right off his face and he sunk deeper into the chair to hide from Yusuke's voice. 

"You were the one that provided Akira with an oral service all because—and I quote—you wanted to shut up him up." Akira looked across the table, smirking at the blond's embarrassed blush. "We're all perverted," Yusuke sighed, slowly removing his hand from Akira's. He folded both arms over his weapon. "Maybe that's what drew us together."

A moment of silence followed, hanging thick and heavy in the air. Joker slammed his hands down onto the table, pushing himself up out of his seat. "We won't get anywhere moping around. We don't have long to go.” And with that, they took the quickest route—traveling through safe rooms—to make their way to the to the highest level traveled.

—

Fox would have enjoyed racing through a landscape similar to M. C. Escher’s Relativity print, had it not been for the annoyingly bright gold surrounding them—blinding them—at every twist and turn. In addition to the maze that was the room itself, another riddle soon barred their way, and it came in the form of Madarame’s most famous painting.

The “Sayuri” was his specialty. Fox knew every detail about the painting and helped guide Joker towards the right path after eliminating the fakes, though they were all probably counterfeit.

After freeing themselves from the maze, the trio of rogues rushed down a hallway of insurmountable vanity. Madarame’s portrait lined every inch of the walls. Skull faked throwing up as Joker pushed the heavy double doors that would lead them to their destination, and the Treasure.

Chaos greeted them in the Main Hall. Skull walked into Joker’s back when their leader stalled, making him aware of the blaring alarms. He stepped out from behind him, surveying the area. The oversized display area was surrounded by guards, all running back and forth with no apparent destination. Looking up to the rafters Madarame’s Shadow screamed at, Skull saw human-shaped silhouettes, but then quickly reminded himself that the Shadows of a Palace always appeared humanoid until their masks were ripped off.

Madarame only noticed their presence when Fox called out to him. “Meddlesome vermin,” he growled. “They’re everywhere!” He stretched out his arm to the guard on his left. “Is this what you’re looking for?” Tucked beneath the masked Shadow’s arms was a golden frame. Madarame smirked, eyes aglow, as he stared down his nose at the small group. “I suppose I can grant you a gift before you die—a glimpse of the genuine “Sayuri”…!”

Fox took a step ahead of the others, moving closer to the man he’d once called his foster father. “Genuine…?” The painting he’d treasured for most of his life really was… fake?

Madarame nodded at the Shadow and the guard moved forward, flipping the golden frame into an upright position. Gone was the gentle plume of lavender smoke that covered the bottom half of the painting. It revealed that the subject of the painting cradled a baby dearly in her arms. The reverent, caring look on her face was for the baby she held.

Fox’s eyes widened behind his decorated mask. He’d known Madarame helped his mother, but had still been too young to remember her before she passed. In a fit of rage after not delivering a painting on time, his mentor had spat at him: “Her skills and talents were quite astonishing. That’s why I decided to look after her. The only reason I took you in was due to my ties with your mother! You belong to me! If you have even a fraction of the talent she did—” A conversation he had never shared with Ryuji, for fear that he would’ve killed the real Madarame.

The painting, however—Fox could practically feel the love emanating from it. A mother’s love. “Mom…!”

It was a surprise reveal, even to Joker, but he left the theatrics to Skull. The blond released a loud, drawled, “hah?!”

Madarame’s condescending look returned as he gave them another long-winded explanation. “Indeed it is. This was painted by your mother. It’s a portrait of herself. A woman who knew her death was coming painted her last wishes for the son she would leave behind.”

Skull stepped forward, electricity crackling beneath his boot, eyes alight in rage and a desire for destruction. “You stole something that personal?! You’re lower than scum!”

“Call me what you wish!” Madarame’s Shadow roared. “Your mother and the artwork she created—they’re all my works of art! That goes for you as well, Yusuke! I’m going to reap you for the sake of my future.”

Gaze unwavering, the katana wielder stared at the golden figure directly across from them. He chose to ignore their enemy addressing him as a personal object. “I’ve heard that you destroy your “art” once they outlive their usefulness… Did that include my mother as well?”

With all the research done, that thought never once crossed Joker’s mind. Her death was the result of a seizure. Madarame proved him wrong. “—if I don’t call for help and leave her be, I could obtain her painting with no strings attached.”

Joker moved on instinct, reaching out to cover Skull’s trembling fist with a hand. His actions were also to ground himself. “You’re a thief, and a murderer.”

Fox inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. There was no point doting on the past. Even if Madarame wasn’t the foul man standing before them, his mother would never have received proper health care. He could now tell himself her life was better; peaceful. That still didn’t excuse Madarame—Shadow or not. “Thank you, Madarame,” Fox chuckled, hand resting leisurely on the hilt of his sword. “You were kind enough to share the truth with me.” The blade was eased out of the scabbard. “It’s unfortunate that every reason for me to forgive you has disappeared without a trace.”

Having been looked down on, Madarame’s Shadow threw another temper tantrum. His features distorted as they expanded, and the trio of vigilantes found themselves staring at five separate paintings.

“Now you think you’re art?” Yusuke scoffed, fully unsheathing his blade. “You’re a despicable fiend who wears the skin of an artist.”

—

Battling Madarame was tedious and frustrating. Every piece of himself was weak to different attack types. The mouth regenerated on physical attacks; the eyes, to elemental skills. The nose was the easiest to drop. The right eye went next.

Skull was aiming for the left eye when something suddenly washed over him. It felt like spider webs clung to every inch of his body and he brushed madly at his arms. That’s when he noticed the black of his outfit was even darker than before. It was almost as if he were covered in shadows.

Something about Shadow Madarame's sudden “attack” on their teammate didn't sit right with neither Fox nor Joker. Skull swung his arms to get rid of the dripping black ink. His hair was as pitch black as the rest of his attire. "What the hell was that...?" Skull muttered, spitting ink after it dripped into his mouth. He faced the floating pieces of a face, eyes narrowed behind his messy mask. "What the hell did you do to me?!"

The left eye regarded him briefly before the mouth soared down to attack. Skull held up his pipe in defense, but the bulky frame still bowled him off his feet. He knew for a fact that he was strong enough to take a hit and keep moving—some of his own attacks required a sacrifice to his health—but now he felt weak where he was sprawled. The frame reared back, only to snap forward, the mouth open wide. Skull jerked, feeling the teeth cut through his clothes and sink into his flesh. And then the pain was gone. He looked to Fox first, an apology in his dark eyes, before turning to stare pleadingly at Joker.

Fox's katana clattered to the ground after slipping from his fingers. Joker couldn't look away from the empty eyes that continued to stare blankly at him. Skull's body fell lifelessly to the ground after being released, a dark liquid pooling with the previous ink. Joker watched the blood spread, growing brighter and brighter the further it flowed from the ink blotches.

"Ryu...ji?"

Fox's voice sounded distant in Joker's ears. Red, red, red. Skull was dead, all because of him! No. He turned to stare at the paintings that were now melting into a puddle of ink. From it rose a figure. Madarame. Ryuji would never get up again, so why should he? Joker saw red, and then... darkness. 

—

"...ra. Akira! Stop! Akira, snap out of it!"

Joker blinked away the darkness, squinting when the gleam of Madarame’s Palace assaulted his eyes. Madarame lay at his feet, cowering, something dripping onto the ground near him. The source was his glove, stained black. The only thing black in this world was the ink this charlatan artist produced and Joker hoped he tried to rip out the Shadow’s heart.

Shifting his gaze from the sniveling creature, Joker found Fox sitting in the pool of ink and blood, Skull cradled in his lap.

Joker bared his teeth in a silent snarl directed at Madarame, but Fox's desperate voice stopped him from lashing out.

"He's not going anywhere. Joker, I need you to think. There has to be a way to... to wake..." Fox tightened his arms around the lifeless frame. "I can't live without him."

Joker took a step back, closing his eyes in thought. If they took him from the Palace in his current state, there would be no bringing him back. 'Bring back... revive!' "I'm so stupid," the trickster sighed. He opened the right side of his jacket and reached into the darkness. A small bead was held between his fingers when he removed his hand. "Arsene." The gentleman Persona appeared in a flurry of feathers and dark laughter. "Keep an eye on him."

Madarame whimpered and covered his head.

Joker hurried to where Fox sat, taking a knee near Skull's head. He cradled it gently, slipping the bead past his lips. He whispered an apology after having to force it down his throat, drawing his hand away with the hope that it worked. The diagonal rips in the blond's outfit slowly began mending themselves, working their way upwards until Skull drew in a sharp, shuddering breath. His mask pushed aside, Yusuke clung tight to his lover, breathing in deeply the unique scent that was Ryuji and the leather of his outfit.

Skull ripped off his mask, wide eyes staring up at Joker. "Did I...?"

"Don't," the brunet hissed. Pixie materialized at his shoulder. She fluttered down, pressing a kiss to Ryuji's forehead, before disappearing once again.

Ryuji was very familiar with the winged Persona and knew she aided in his recovery process. After three failed attempts to free his right arm, he pushed at Yusuke’s shoulder with his left. "Oi. Let me go."

"Never," the artist whispered, voice barely audible where his face was buried against Ryuji's chest.

"You have to." Ryuji ran a gentle hand over the dark locks. "This is your fight. He's your demon. You need to face him, one last time." 

Yusuke ducked out from beneath the hand, placing a kiss to its palm, and reluctantly released Ryuji. He pushed himself back onto his feet, reaching down to offer Ryuji assistance. Another gloved hand appeared beside his, courtesy of Akira. Ryuji grinned and accepted both, springing up when they pulled him.

—

Even in his last moments, the Shadow spouted nothing but nonsense to Yusuke.

“No one cares for true art… All they want are easily recognizable brands!” Madarame’s Shadow tripped over his own feet and fell, still holding tight to the original “Sayuri”. Yusuke calmly strode up, each step slow and deliberate. “I’m a victim in this too! Wouldn’t you agree?!”

Never had Yusuke felt such a strong urge to raise his hand against someone, but he buried the dark desire, and stopped his advances right at Madarame’s spread feet.

“The art world revolves around money after all,” the Shadow babbled on in explanation, hoping to be spared. “You can’t rise up without any money…!”

Akira dug his heels in after wrapping both arms around Ryuji. The blond still managed to drag him several feet as he snarled at the vain creature. “Why are we listenin’ to your bullshit?! You belong in the depths of hell then, because none of the money you own is yours! Yusuke is suffering because of you! Some of your former students committed suicide after you ruined their lives!”

“Ryuji.” Yusuke smiled placatingly over his shoulder at the blond.

Ryuji calmed, only to snap at Akira instead, hissing ‘pervert’ even though he made no attempt to remove the arms around his waist.

“That’s why… Yusuke, you should understand! Being a poor artist is truly miserable!” Madarame clutched “Sayuri” protectively against his chest. “I just didn’t want to return to that life!”

Yusuke’s eyes burned a deadly silver as he stared down at the sad excuse for an artist. His kick to dislodge the painting was light. Once it was out of harm’s way, he pressed the heel of his boot against the Shadow’s neck. “Don’t you dare speak of the world of art.” Each word was laced with ice and the promise of painful death. He shifted his stance, forcing Madarame to tilt his head back as he put more pressure into his foot. “You’re done for, along with this abomination of a world.”

Ryuji found himself sharing in Akira’s excitement—the brunet practically rutted against his back. This was a Yusuke whose company he could definitely enjoy.

Yusuke removed his foot, only after leaving Madarame with the strict order to confess all his sins and crimes. As the Shadow caught his breath, he stooped down to collect the “Sayuri”.

"There are others like you," Madarame hurriedly stated, pushing himself into a more upright seated position.

Akira stepped out from behind Ryuji at that reveal, a wary look darkening his features. “Who?”

“Does it matter…? I had to increase security, because everyone kept trespassing!" The sudden surge of anger left Madarame feeling hollow and he sighed softly, his posture crumbling, along with his form. “Sayuri” was gone. He had no Treasure to keep the museum open. As more of his form melted away, the Palace began falling around them.

“Yusuke!” Ryuji shouted, holding out a hand. Akira stood ahead of him, warily eyeing their surroundings as more and more of the building continued to fall.

Yusuke rushed ahead, ignoring Madarame’s pleading cries behind him.

xxx

In the time that he'd known him, Ryuji had no recollection of ever seeing Yusuke cry. The tall brunet had one arm wrapped around Madarame's Treasure and his free hand clutched the end of Ryuji's school jacket. His head was lowered, but Ryuji could hear the soft sniffles. Akira stood several feet away, hands in the pocket of his school slacks as stared in the opposite direction gave them their privacy.

"Yusuke." Ryuji pried the hand from his clothes, only to have Yusuke latch onto him instead. He smiled. "Hey. C'mon. We're going back to Akira's. I already told my mom. We'll talk about everything—" His gaze cut to Akira's profile. "—tomorrow."

Yusuke wordlessly nodded. With a deep breath, he raised his head.

Ryuji couldn't hold in his laugh and received a chastising frown for his efforts. "Because your face is the same even though you were just crying!" He used their joined hands to pull Yusuke in, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "My cyborg boyfriend." Yusuke didn't reprimand him for his actions of public display, which was all the proof Ryuji needed that he was exhausted. "Akira. Let's go."

Akira looked away from Madarame's house to assess the couple. Yusuke leaned against Ryuji's side, trying his hardest not to be obvious how much he desired the contact. Ryuji masked his worry behind a wide grin. Akira thought his mask to be perfect, but now he wasn't so sure. These two were a force to be reckoned with. They were putting cracks in his facade.

With a small smile, he shortened the distance between them. Akira clapped Ryuji on the shoulder as he passed to take the lead. They were going to his apartment after all. 

—

Yusuke released Ryuji after they crossed the threshold of Akira's apartment. Safe room. A small smile tugged at his lips at the comparison and looked around for somewhere to set “Sayuri”. Akira's hand covered his and Yusuke was surprised he had no objections when the painting was pried from his fingers.

"I have a workroom," Akira told him. "It'll be safe in there."

Yusuke nodded. He felt unsure of his emotions, considering everything that took place in that horrid Palace, and feared that his voice would betray him, so he remained silent during preparations for sleep. When Akira pulled out the futon, Yusuke tugged at it until it was released. He took the brunet's hand instead and led him into the bedroom.

Ryuji was sprawled diagonally across the bed. Despite their previous argument, Akira now realized his mistake; he was too invested in this couple. Instead of “Ryuji”, he saw “Skull”, bleeding out on the Palace floor. Akira felt his mask develop another crack and fought to free himself from Yusuke's hold.

"We're all scared, idiot," Ryuji sighed. He sat up, pushing aside the covers, and spread his arms wide. "Unless you're a shitty sleeper that rolls a lot, there's enough room here for all three of us."

Akira took a deep breath, exhaling it slow enough that his mask could repair itself.

Yusuke put all his efforts to waste, shattering it with the softest kiss against his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

Ryuji grinned at Akira's bewildered expression. It really was great seeing the bastard knocked down several pegs. He hopped from the bed and swooped in, easily lifting the troublesome transfer student onto his shoulder. Akira protested as well as flailed, glaring up at the couple after being unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. His temper was ignored and Ryuji climbed over him, settling at his back. Yusuke turned off the lights before slipping in in front of Akira. His hand ghosted over the slender hip, curling around Akira's back.

“I was going to congratulate you on not getting hard because I picked you up," Ryuji mumbled against the nape of Akira's neck. “But I can hear your heartbeat."

"He's not." Yusuke's ankles were tangled with Akira's, his leg conveniently trapped between the other's thigh. He could feel no stir of arousal.

“I’m angry, that’s why,” Akira spat. "This seems very unfair." A lie. Anger was the only emotion he could conjure to hide his nervous excitement; Akira was quite content with his current predicament.

“Life’s not fair, idiot.” Ryuji hummed and threw his arm over Akira's waist, chin hooked over his shoulder. "Go to sleep, pervert."

Akira had no idea how long it took before he managed to fall asleep, but he had the fleeting thought that he felt more at home trapped between these two boys than he ever did in his family house. It was only after burrowing his way against Yusuke’s chest and having Ryuji’s arms tighten around him that Akira felt his subconscious slip away. Even if he didn't dream tonight, it wouldn't matter; he was living it. 

[part six] (end game...)

#p5 #persona 5 #p5 protagonist #kurusu akira #sakamoto ryuji #kitagawa yusuke #ryuji x yusuke #ryukita #akira x ryuji #akiryu #pegoryu #akiryukita #pegoryukita #dark undertones #fanfiction #my fiction #fic: beauty & vice