The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Make My Morning


Fushimi’s morning didn’t start off well. He’d never been a morning person, and someone drank the last of the readily available coffee. But then he was off on a morning assignment to retrieve something for the Captain–”a parcel of great import”, he said, but most likely no more important than coffee–so it’s not like he had time to raid his backup stash.

He was scowling when he left and by all rights, that should have been the start of a terrible day.

Instead, he bumped into Misaki. Literally.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

A few grumpy words turns into a halfhearted wrestling match, that nonetheless leaves Misaki flushed and breathless and staring right at Fushimi for the longest few moments of Fushimi’s week.

By mutual agreement, they brush themselves off and go their separate ways without much in the way of further comment, but the warmth stays with Fushimi for hours afterward, and it’s not such a terrible day after all.

Take Care


Yata was frowning when he got the door to Saruhiko’s dorm open. He had Saruhiko practically slung over his shoulder and back, and there was an audible hiss of pain between Saruhiko’s teeth as Yata carefully maneuvered him through the door.

Honestly, Yata’s heart couldn’t quite decide between worried and furious. “I was fine.”


The Proof is in the Pudding


Proof that Yata loves Saruhiko: he’s making pudding without any fruit or vegetables for the third time in a row, while muttering about immature picky eaters.

“Oh?” Saruhiko asks, with his most annoying, sideways smile and glittering eyes. “I’m the immature one?”

Yata just glares at him. “You can’t go shopping right now because you did in your leg,” he reminds Saruhiko, pointing with the stirring spoon.

Saruhiko scowls.

“Because you were reckless. And that’s the only reason I’m cooking for you.” Yata huffs.

Lying. He’d cook for Saruhiko anyway, does cook for him. He just adds fruits and vegetables.

Like Nothing Ever Made


Scepter 4 was responsible for all kinds of supernatural activities and cleanup. It was perhaps forgivable that in the course of one of these cleanups, Fushimi Saruhiko packed up into the van a particular bundle of odd-looking feathers and scales that reeked of magic, noted it on his report, and thought little more about it. (more…)



Shame crashed in right after the high. (more…)

Do You


Do you love me? They don’t ask it in words.

Saruhiko asks in the curve of his mouth, a bitter-tasting smile Yata swallows down in a kiss.

Misaki asks with hesitant hands before Saruhiko grips him hard enough to make him wince. He doesn’t wince, he surges up into the embrace to more easily devour each other mouths and skin in hunger.

Do you love me? An arrested hand, an open mouth, those wide eyes wondering as Saruhiko pauses before turning his back.

Do you love me? A fierce grin, demanding words and sword to draw Misaki’s attention.

They answer.

Days Are Cold


The days are cold. He shrugs on his jacket and steps out into the chill winter air, knives under his clothes, up close against his skin. They’re sharp but they keep him safe. He’s used to sharp edges.

There used to be warmth and heat burning beside him, welling up inside when he thought of violence. Now it feels cool and crystal clear, except where he reaches up to scratch at the itching scar on his chest. There used to be heat beside him, near him, throwing an arm over his shoulders because he used to walk with Misaki. It used to burn inside him because there was no cool blue aura to outweigh the flaming red.

Now, both simmer and lie below the wind-kissed cool of his skin, and he feels the sharp electric buzz that goes with electricity and technology and change. He fingers a knife with knowing fingers, feels the eerie light of jungle green welling up across his knuckles, through his palms. Anna had looked at him years ago and known he’d never stay red.

The days are cold. There is no Misaki beside him. The fire within is banked. It’s time to go to work.

First Time’s the Charm


Their first time was horrible, Saruhiko could admit to himself in hindsight. (more…)

Say My Name


He hadn’t meant to stay a cat long enough for this to happen. By the time Saruhiko had an opportunity to change back (after a harrowing long time trying to leave the group he’d been spying on inconspicuously; he hadn’t planned on being found and adopted), he’d almost forgotten how to human.

He was still curled up, catlike, when he heard a loud, very familiar voice, “What did you do to him?!”

He tried to say Misaki. What came out was a meow.

Misaki swore and settled in beside him, soothing hand on his back. “C’mon, let’s get you up.”

He didn’t know how to get up, his paws not working right, and Misaki wanted him on only two. He buried his face in Misaki’s neck and scratched the arm supporting him.

“Stop that,” Misaki said sharply, but he reached up and scratched just so, much gentler, on Saruhiko’s neck.

Saruhiko found himself melting with a loud exhale. Misaki knew just how to do it.

“Good,” Misaki said. He helped Saruhiko sit upright. “Now say my name.”

It took a minute, a few tries, but finally he got out a low, human rasp. “Misaki.”

The Most Obvious Unstealthy Thief of Hearts


Fushimi Saruhiko wasn’t exactly hiding his heart, so much as he’d shelved it a long time ago as not particularly useful to him. There was always far too much pain involved with feeling things for as long as he could remember.

Then Misaki came, poking and prodding and asking a million stupid questions with that glowing look on his face as he pronounced Saruhiko amazing.

It was stupid how it made his heart beat, how every time Misaki came around, Saruhiko felt so much, he was practically vibrating with it.

Without stealth or skill, Misaki stole his heart.

The Buff


“Aaaaaaah!” A stream of rather flustered swearing followed the startled shout, and Saruhiko groggily blinked open his eyes as he woke.


A Terrible Patient


“Isn’t he a terrible patient?” the Blue with the red hair and bright smile asked with a quizzical head tilt.


Welcome to the New Age


Aura still sparked in Fushimi’s veins, but he could actually feel it fading, bleeding out slowly until one day, he knew, it would no longer answer his call. He wasn’t even sure he’d miss it.


In Practice


Saruhiko still had access to his money but found himself easily drawn into Misaki’s way of life and all the moneysaving tricks his mother had taught him. Sharing shower water was certainly no hardship. Turning off lights when they didn’t need them was only annoying when Misaki started nagging. Leaving the heat off at night sounded good in theory, since they both had a pile of blankets.

It was not good in practice.

Saruhiko didn’t realize he was cold until after he was shivering. He hunched his shoulders and gritted his teeth and plotted in the back of his mind how to tell Misaki they were never doing this again in a way that would actually forestall Misaki’s numerous good reasons why he knew better than Saruhiko how to save money. (He did, in fact.)

All that fled Saruhiko’s mind when a sleepy, tousled Misaki pulled himself onto the top bunk and burrowed into Saruhiko’s covers like that made any kind of sense. His arms wrapped around Saruhiko, his warm breath suddenly heating the back of Saruhiko’s neck, and suddenly Saruhiko couldn’t even feel the cold—just every single place their bodies touched.

He swallowed and permanently retired his objections.

This Wasn’t What I Wanted


Fushimi hadn’t planned to leave at all, both deeply intrigued and intensely uncomfortable with the way the Blue King wanted him to leave Homura and join his clan.

Fushimi couldn’t find fulfillment in Homura, its growing problems and Misaki’s growing infatuation more and more annoying to him, but he had never planned to betray them. He’d joined them for Misaki’s sake, protected them for Misaki’s sake, and never wanted to leave Misaki at all.

But he didn’t cry when his heart was burning inside him and Misaki’s tears inflamed him. He didn’t cry until in a quiet dorm room—alone.

Watching You Work


“And this is the hacker,” Kusanagi announced. “Now play nice, Fushimi,” he added to the hacker.


Inconvenient Evidence


“Exactly which part of you felt a need to cover me in bite marks?” (more…)

Accidental Confessions


“Why did I ever fall in love with you?” Misaki demanded in sheer exasperation, right in the middle of their third angry, almost shouting match in a week.

Saruhiko paused, frozen before he could trip out his next retort to the predicted insult. Misaki was usually exactly that, predictable, and should be pointing out right about now that Saruhiko had no actual high ground when it came to putting things away where the other thought they belonged.

Instead, he’d gone and said that.

“Really,” Saruhiko finally said with a small huff under his breath and a smile he couldn’t help.

Walk of Shame


Misaki winced as he tried to sneak out of the bed without waking Saruhiko. (more…)

Something New


“Are you sure about this?” Misaki sounded nervous, and his fingers fidgeted at Saruhiko’s hip.