oh, happy dagger


• FushimiYata; hint of MunakataMikoto;



When Fushimi turned his back on Homura and went over to the side of the Blues, for a few weeks, Yata always came home with some bruises from picking fights all day long. Totsuka reprimanded him for it saying that Fushimi won't come back if he continuously hurt himself. Yata snaps and tells him that the idiot won't come back either if he stayed complacent.

"So you do want him back," commented Totsuka.

"No. No, I don't. I just want to kill him. Homura has no place for traitors."

And with that, he abruptly left (probably going to the South again where the lesser gangs dwelled upon).

But Totsuka was not fooled.

Homura might have no place for traitors, yes.

But that doesn't mean that there's no space for one in Yata Misaki's life.


Rays of sun hit Yata's face and he groaned in protest. It was still so fucking early. He twisted and turned in the bed making the sheets pool down on his bottom half. A light whish of the cool morning air hit his chest and he promptly froze.

He never leaves his windows open.

He sat up with a start-only to hiss as he felt the pain on his back side. Oh.


He remembered it now. The sound of the shower running on the other side made him remember all the more. He exhaled loudly and laid back down in the bed.

This was stupid.

He was stupid.

And the man on the other side of the room was an asshole (a motherfucker traitor at that too).

How long had this been going on again? You know, the once a month "visits" he received from him (that always ended up with the both of them tangled in the sheets Kusanagi-san bought for him). He lifted his fist on the air and started mentally counting together with his fingers.

Let's see, so the jerk left around the twelfth month of the previous year (the best fucking christmas present he received ever). He looked at the calendar on top of the drawer beside the bed and frowned.

It was December already?

He clenched his fist still up in the air and (he imagined that the pillow next to him was that man) forcefully brought it down to his right. The pillow feathers fluttered around as he slowly let his aura dissipate.


How can he forget that month?

(Betrayal tasted like burnt apples that were initially rotten to the core already. The feeling of being betrayed was definitely the most disgusting shit out there-he tried to subdue and forget the taste and ate that apple...only to vomit it immediately thereafter.

His system refuses to ingest, to incorporate, to make space in his life for a traitor.)

Funny how he ended up in his situation right now though.


"They're like Romeo and Juliet. Don't you think so too?"

Anna looked at her king in silent confusion. And, sensing her bewilderment, Mikoto chuckled lightly.

"Two different and opposing families," he pointed at the red bow and dark blue dress she wore, "Romeo and Juliet, the children of this long-lived family rivalry, somehow manage to fall in love."

She cocked her head to the right in silent thinking.

"Shakespeare made sure they always meet secretly," she commented, and then after a few moments of silence, she continued, "Mikoto-chan is a great writer."

Mikoto smiled.

"The play was a tragedy though," he replied.


Yata Misaki was a proud member of Homura who directly served under the red king (without a doubt, he'd follow Mikoto-san even to the depths of hell). And he took great pride in that.

In fact, he never remembered begging to anyone, not even to those snobbish people who walked past his child self in the street without even taking pity to the orphan.

He, however, remembered a snowy day one December morning. He remembered running after a certain person and begged him to stay. He remembered crying and banging his fist on the chest of that person.

(He also remembered being given a the most heart-wrenching kiss which spoke of love and farewell.

Oh, and he also remembered staring at the disappearing back of that person.)

The sound of the shower stopped and he heard the towel being withdrawn from the rack (most probably his own towel). He can just imagine it now.

How the cloth was rubbed against the pale skin of the man; how the towel was carelessly used to dry his hair; how he would pause and look himself in the mirror (he had always been a narcissist, that idiot); and how he would wrap the towel on his lower body and finally exit the bathroom.

"Stop feigning sleep Misaki."

Yata ignored him and deftly turned in his bed and squished his face in the covers.

"Ahh, so it's the normal routine of you refusing to acknowledge me the morning after."

Yata glared. (how he hated seeing that scratched out homura insignia in his collarbone)

"The normal routine is that after you do your shit, you leave already!" (without even as much as a good bye)

Fushimi sighed and walked over to the bed. Upon seeing this, Yata immediately turned his back on him and faced the covers again. Fushimi straddled Yata from his back and buried his face into the smaller man's neck. He grasped the Homra member's fisted hand and covered it with his own.

"Do you really hate me that much?"

The latter didn't answer him. And somehow, that infuriated him. He hastily turned the other around to face him and used his left hand to pin both of Yata's hands above his head.

"Oi! Let go of me you jerk!"


"What?! Are you mad?! This is my fucking place and my fucking room! You don't even have the right to barge in here every month!"

"Yet you welcome me every single time."

"Hey, let's get this straight fucker! You are not welcome here!" Yata screamed in frustration and desperation as he felt Fushimi's hand tighten its grip on him.

"Oh yeah? Then, why do you always prepare that special rice you cook and an apple that you know I like, every night?"

Yata growled and attempted to head bat him, only to be intercepted with Fushimi's right hand wrapping itself on his neck.


Fushimi crashed his lips to Yata's and used his tongue to probe an entrance to the other's mouth. When he wasn't granted permission, Fushimi tightened his hold on his neck and rubbed his right knee on the smaller male's groin; eliciting a gasp and indirectly granting entrance for Fushimi's tongue.

The taller male removed his right hand from Yata's neck and slid down to his ass. His index finger slowly rubbed against his entrance and Yata's induced mind panicked.

"No! N-ngh...not ye-ah...yet prepared..."

Fushimi ignored him and let his finger enter the orange-haired male whilst still not stopping in kissing him. After a while, he entered another finger and did a scissoring motion to at least loosen him up.



The dark-haired man lifted the other's male left leg over his right shoulder and positioned himself directly to the awaiting entrance. He stopped kissing him and his dark blue eyes looked straight to the other's brown eyes. He silently marveled at the ravished look on his face.

He felt his control slipping and with a few more millisecond, he was fully sheathed inside the hot, tight cavern.

"Ngh...so fucking tight..."


Yata thrashed around at the pain he felt. Sure, he was fingered but it wasn't enough. He heard the dark haired male whisper soothing sounds to him and he urged himself to relax too.

"Misakiii...fuck, you're perfect...haah..."


Their bodies molded as one and all other things were forgotten and put aside. The so-called betrayal was flung aside with Yata's screams of pleasure. Their roles as third in command in their clans were thrown away with Fushimi's incessant thrusts.

And within a few more moments, red and blue sparks flew above them.




"I saw something."

"What is it, Anna?"

"Here," Anna walked over to her king and positioned her marble in front of his left eye.

"Oh? That's quite problematic isn't it?"

"What do we do Mikoto-chan? We should pull him away from the traitor if we want him to stay alive."

The red king sighed, lit his cigarette and patted Anna's head before heading out.


"Have you seen Fushimi-kun?" asked Awashima Seri.

"No, I haven't seen him since three days ago."

"How about our king?"

"Eh, now that you mention it, I haven't seen him since three days ago too."


"Shakespeare had his own story."

"What are you talking about Anna-chan?" questioned Kusanagi as he wiped the glasses clean.

"I think that Romeo and Juliet's story was based on Shakespeare's own life."

A dawn of realization was seen in Kusanagi's face and he lightly laughed,

"Oh, happy dagger, this is thy sheath. There rust and let me die."