#x yusuke

[tripledowns]

Could I request Shukita where the two run into any of the other Confidants outside of the Phantom Thieves? Who and under what circumstances is your call

(inspired by this)

akira was up late last night, and ryuji knows this because ryuji was up late last night, and he sent off enough texts to know roughly when akira went to sleep. or went to sleep for the last time, anyway, because there were a lot of long delays between messages. “gaming,” was the excuse akira gave, and hey, ryuji’s been there. he’s had no reason to not believe him.

but ten o’clock is late enough for a guy to be sleeping in (and, dude, unfair that akira is allowed to sleep in that late, because ryuji was up until dawn and his mom still made him get up at eight) and ryuji has big plans for today.

“what’s up, morgana?” he grins; morgana is lounging on the counter as sojiro makes some coffee. so much for the chief’s insistence that morgana not come into the restaurant.

“whaddya want?” comes the irritated reply. morgana’s tail flicks in annoyance but he doesn’t move. perfect – ryuji ruffles the cat’s head as he barges past, his footsteps thunderous as he runs up the stairs. behind him, he hears morgana’s startled “hey, wait-!”

“TIME TO GET UP, SLEEPYHEAD!” ryuji yells before he even sees if akira is still asleep. and the boy is, and he looks like he’s still half-asleep as he sits up. the blanket that’d been covering everything but his head slips, revealing a shirtless torso, and ryuji thinks that’s strange since akira usually has a shirt on.

“what the fuck, ryuji?” he asks, but his voice is quiet and heavy with sleep. 

“early morning training, dude, remem-” ryuji starts, but it’s cut off when a second person sits up in bed. an equally shirtless second person. an equally shirtless yusuke person. 

another lightbulb goes off, that something is seriously strange. why would yusuke be shirtless in akira’s-

“oh shit,” ryuji says. oh shit. 

he turns around without another word, and he hears akira say something to yusuke but doesn’t process the words. 

what the eff did i just witness. 

[tripledowns]

Here's a whump-prompt I had percolating in my head if you want it: In around rank 10 of Yusuke's confidant path, that he had a bad fever when he was young. Maybe it was one of the kind that leave lasting damage (like rheumatic fever can mess up your heart, etc.) and he collapses in battle shielding Akira. Poor Akira is confused because the spells only cure battle damage, and they gotta get Yusuke to Takemi's - stat!

yusuke recalls flashes of memory. of a well-placed zio meant for akira striking him instead, of feeling everything everywhere and then sharp stabs in his heart, of everyone suddenly looking down on him, of half-heard comments like “yusuke!” and “-help him,” of the warmth of a dia spell washing over him, of panicked voices rising because it isn’t helping, why isn’t helping?!

rough hands pull him up and sharp words scold whoever hefted him up. there’s a murmured voice and gentler hands and then.

he comes to, staring blankly at a paneled ceiling and then drifting onward to gaze curiously upon a cramped room that he thinks may be a doctor’s office. it certainly reminds him of one; unbidden come the memories of days spent in the hospital when he was a child. a heavy weight settles over him, feeling something like disgust and shame. it’s been so long. he’d been doing so well...

in a sense, he had this coming. too much excitement, too much reckless behavior. 

a door opens and he looks over. a woman he thinks he’s seen before maybe -- short hair, a dark teal, wearing a lab coat over her dress. she’s looking down at a chart when she comes in but when she raises her head her eyes widen a little. “ah, you’re awake.”

“where am i?” he asks- croaks, more like. 

“you’re at my clinic,” the woman- doctor says. “my name is tae takemi. your friend-” she nods to the side; belatedly, yusuke realizes that akira is here as well, hunched over in a chair with his hands clasped in front of his face and elbows propped on his thighs. “brought you in. he said you collapsed at the park.” from the look on her face, she clearly doesn’t buy it, but from her tone of voice she doesn’t seem inclined to push for a more concrete answer. 

yusuke nods anyway. “that’s right. my heart is physically weaker than most. i neglected to keep that in mind.” he’s not sure why he needs to state that, physically. he supposes akira needs to know, just as he needs to eliminate any doubts. 

takemi tsks and instructs him to sit up so she can check on him. akira says nothing, but his eyes remain fixated on yusuke the entire time. 

“don’t do that again,” akira says quietly, once takemi is gone. 

“don’t do what? take the hit for you?” yusuke asks. “of course i-”

“i’d rather be hurt than lose you.” yusuke is stunned for a moment, though he quickly recovers.

“i feel the same,” yusuke replies, and despite his weak heart landing him in this situation, he thinks it feels stronger now than ever.

[tripledowns]

May I ask for a Shukita fic where Yusuke takes care of Akira who needs some TLC please

“don’t get me wrong,” ryuji says, tipping the chair back so it balances precariously on two legs. “but our leader is kind of weird, isn’t he?” 

“huh? what makes you say that?” ann asks. “not saying i’m agreeing, of course!” makoto peers up from her book to gaze curiously at ryuji, silent for now but clearly ready to jump in.

“i’m not saying it like it’s a bad thing!” already on the defensive; it seems ryuji can be self-aware sometimes. “just- has he ever talked about his hometown to you guys? his old friends or his family or anything?”

ann’s brow furrows and she raises a finger to tap her chin. “you know, i can’t recall….”

her response is enough to give ryuji motivation to continue. he leans forward, his hands curled into fists. “right?! and isn’t it weird that he’s here in the first place? if i got sued, my mom wouldn’t let me out of her sight! but that guy’s parents just shipped him off to live with a total stranger!”

“maybe his parents aren’t around often? they could travel for work, you know. mine were the same way.”

“yeah but- right there! you still talked about them!” 

“he probably has a reason for not talking about his past,” makoto speaks up, closing her book and placing it on the table. “we shouldn’t speculate.”

ryuji looks as though he wants to protest, but before he can open his mouth akira is finally walking in with morgana perched on his shoulder. yusuke thinks idly of how easy it would be to tap his foot against one of the legs of those chair, how effortlessly he could make ryuji fall back. this gossiping feels wrong. 

yet now that the fact is pointed out, yusuke can’t stop thinking about it. he’ll drop mentions of madarame, clear openings for akira to relate with an anecdote of his own, yet there’s nothing. akira keeps the conversation focused on yusuke, manipulating the subject to remain off of himself. akira is reminiscent of a blank canvas, coming to life only after being touched by the brush of the metaverse and big city. frustratingly, he refuses to open up unprompted.

yusuke isn’t a fan of blank canvases on principle, so he decides to do something about this. he shows up early on sunday morning without a warning text; sojiro is accustomed to seeing him by now and knows his order, leaving yusuke alone with a cup of coffee to wait until akira awakens. as usual akira seems to take his time waking up; it’s late morning by the time he emerges downstairs, his hair as disheveled as always. he’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt this time, which is a new look for him. 

he pauses when he spots yusuke though, murmuring a greeting to sojiro as he goes to yusuke.

“good morning,” he greets, sliding a hand in his pocket.

“good morning,” yusuke replies. “i’m not interrupting any plans, am i?” 

akira shakes his head. “i was just going to the batting cages. did you have anything in mind?” 

“i’ll accompany you,” yusuke says as he slips out of the booth. akira shrugs, half-turning so he can tell sojiro he’ll be back later. yusuke thanks him for the coffee, and together he and akira leave cafe leblanc.

“are you even into baseball?” akira asks once the door is shut. 

“that’s the one with sticks, right?” choosing to ignore akira’s wary look, yusuke says, “i had no idea you played.”

“i don’t, really. just when i have some downtime.” a response, but not enough of one to give yusuke any real information. 

“are you any good?” he presses. 

“i’m alright.” a shrug. “i’m a bit rusty.”

finally, yusuke thinks. “you used to play?” 

a nod, but rather than offering anything else akira asks, “what’s with all the questions?”

“i- is it that obvious?” another nod. yusuke chuckles. “it was brought to my attention that you don’t share many details about your personal life. you know so much about me, but all i know about you is you have a criminal record. i realize i don’t like knowing so little about you. i’d like to learn more about you.”

is it just his imagination, or akira’s cheeks a bit redder now than before? the shorter male runs a hand through his hair, sheepishly avoiding yusuke’s eyes.

“that’s really about it,” akira tells him. “my background really isn’t that interesting.”

“so tell me, then,” yusuke insists. he doubts akira anyway; for someone so brazen in his actions and fearless in his decisions, he has been known to underplay his own accomplishments. what he may think of as boring is probably anything but. 

akira stops, putting a hand on his hip and facing yusuke fully. “let’s go the convenience store instead, then. we can pick up some snacks and go back to leblanc’s.” at yusuke’s guilty look, he adds, “my treat.”

“very well,” yusuke nods. “i promise to pay you back.” 

they settle in akira’s room, both in their usual chairs and with a bag of chips on the table before them. yusuke listens as akira talks about his hometown and playing baseball, of his parents going through a nasty divorce and neither of them wanting akira (he looks too much like his mother, his dad said; he takes after his father, his mom said), of never quite fitting in at school because he never could relate to his classmates.

“i understand,” yusuke says softly, because he knows how it feels to stand out due to circumstances outside of his control. he thinks of class projects and being invited to groups not for his company or personality but for his talent. his classmates talk about subjects yusuke has no idea about, let alone any ability to relate to, and that feeling of isolation. he thinks now of the slight jealousy he feels that he is the one to not go to shujin, and he contemplates later how he believes akira feels like an outsider within the group as well, elevated to a higher plane simply for being the leader.

akira smiles gently. “yeah,” he agrees just as quietly. “i know you do.”

[tripledowns]

can i request another shukita? first time sleeping (zzz) in one bed? maybe a rly bad storm and akira doesnt want yusuke to go home out of fear? thank you!! you have a really lovely writing !!!

“just spend the night,” akira insists, and you should say no – want to say no – but over the theatrical music playing over the end credits of the movie is the sound of pounding rain. lightning flashes through the window, illuminating the room briefly before dissipating. a few seconds after is a roar of thunder that is loud enough to rattle the walls. you don’t particularly want to go outside but isn’t it something everyone should do once? get caught in the pouring rain on their way home?

“yusuke,” akira pleads, and you think of how wet you’ll get in the rain, and how cold you’ll be on the train, and how no one at school will even notice if you return or not. you think of akira coming down in the mornings, his hair disheveled but in a polished way, and you realize you could see for yourself if the look is natural or if there’s some amount of effort put into it.

“i couldn’t,” you say anyway. “there’s only one bed.”

akira shrugs. “i’m alright with sharing if you are.” 

not that anyone would be surprised to learn, but you’ve never been in a relationship before. you’ve lusted, sure, and you’ve obsessed, but you’ve never gone beyond an artist-muse relationship. you’ve never gone beyond convincing someone to pose for you. 

so this is new territory for you. you’re wearing akira’s spare clothes, and sweats that are too long on him fit you just right, and the detergent of his shirt is different than what you’re accustomed to. you keep wanting to sniff it, just barely stopping yourself from ducking your head down to sniff it. ryuji already calls you a freak; you don’t want to give akira any reason to think that as well. but akira is oblivious to your dilemma, preoccupied with locating another pillow for you to use. 

“where’s morgana?” you ask out of a need to kill the silence. 

“futaba wanted him, so he’s spending the night with her,” he responds, bending over to dig through a large cardboard box. your gaze keeps drifting over despite your best efforts to not look. from a purely aesthetic level, akira looks nice from behind. pleasing. the curved lines of his body compared with the rumpled lines of his pajamas with the addition of his curled hair makes him look soft. you’re struck with the urge to curl up with him in bed and wrap your arms around him, to see for yourself if he’s as comfortable to hold as his appearance indicates. 

he pulls out a pillow finally and takes a moment to pat it free of any lingering dust. his voice raises a bit as he tells you he’ll take this pillow, and what side do you prefer to sleep on? 

you tell him the right, though in reality you have no preference. but if any more urges come up, it’ll be easier to slip out of bed when you’re on the edge instead of against the wall. he nods and tells you to slide in, that he’ll take care of the lights. you do so with an awkward stiffness, laying in his bed but not relaxing quite yet. 

akira turns off the lights but the room is illuminated by a streetlight outside, so you can (unfortunately) see akira as he climbs over you and puts his glasses on the windowsill. this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him sans glasses but it is the first time you’ve seen him like this. your heart beats wildly and you tell yourself you have no idea why. 

but there’s no denying that the bed is small and akira is warm, surprisingly so. he huffs quietly and says “sorry, i tend to run hot at night.”

“that’s quite alright,” but it’s anything but. your heart is thudding loudly; can akira hear it over the rain, you wonder. akira rolls his head to look at you as he lays flat on his back. with your position of laying on your side, it’d be all too easy to shimmy closer and curl up against him. you could void the necessity of a second pillow in a moment with this proximity. 

you won’t though. you can’t. you shouldn’t. 

and akira pushes you, as he always does, as his hand seeks out yours. he gives it a slight squeeze and offers you a small smile. “relax,” he murmurs. his eyes are already shut and he is the definition of relaxed. how does he do it? 

“it’s fine,” he tells you.

you’re inexperienced with relationships and love and sharing beds with your best friend, but akira has never lead you astray before, nor has he pushed you away in disgust or abandoned you for being strange. and you know he never will. you give his hand a squeeze and scoot closer, hesitating only a moment before wrapping an arm across his stomach and pillowing your head on his shoulder. you think you can feel him smiling, though you can’t see for yourself. 

“good night, yusuke,” he whispers. you return the expression though you doubt you’ll be able to sleep a wink.

(you drift off anyway, sleeping more deeply and solidly than you have since madarame changed. you’re the first to wake up in the morning and for once you’re torn between immortalizing the image before you by drawing or keeping it to yourself and remaining in bed.)

(you find the bedhead is much worse when akira first wakes up.)

[tripledowns]

Could I please request a Phantom Thieves Video Game night? With maybe some side Shukita but you don't have to if you don't want to.

“i would’ve thought you’d be good at this,” ryuji jabs, because he’s an instigator and it’s what he does. he’s grinning broadly, legs outstretched before him as he leans against akira’s bed from his position on the floor. from his spot on the bed, morgana has perfect access to give ryuji’s head a swat, which he does so with no hesitation. immediately ryuji sits up, scowling. “stupid cat! what the hell!”

“don’t be a jerk!” morgana insists, though to yusuke says, “i gotta admit though, i thought you’d be crushing this. this is the drawing one.” 

looking mournfully down at his phone, yusuke says, “this game does not give you nearly enough time to complete my masterpieces. and my drawing surface is too small.....”

“exxxxxcuses,” futaba taunts, legs drawn up as a makeshift surface for her tablet. “get good, scrub! i am crushing you!” 

“only because you have a tablet,” ann points out; she’s not as concerned, being in second place and all. “you kinda have an unfair advantage here.”

“it does say any device,” makoto reminds them. on the couch beside her, haru is furiously texting captions into her phone. on screen her numbers shoot up while futaba’s and ann’s remain stagnant. “we can’t fault futaba-chan for taking advantage of the tools she has at her disposal.”

“do you want to use my laptop?” akira offers. 

yusuke shakes his head. “trying to draw on a new medium- i fear i will be even slower than i am now. but thank you, akira.” akira squeezes his hand placatingly. 

“oi, loverboys!” ryuji exclaims. “next round is start- would you freaking stop that, morgana?!” 

[tripledowns]

shukita where yusuke almost drank paint water if u wanna hehe

it’s fascinating, really, how into painting yusuke gets. he’s a bona fide art nerd (or nerd, period) and does absolutely nothing to hide it. rather than be ashamed of his connection to madarame yusuke treats it as a fact. yes, he was raised by a man who, up until recently, was the golden god of the japanese art world. yes, he’s still trying to make it on his own. in between casual comments of his upbringing and ties to the art world yusuke likes going to museums and art supplies stores and buying new art reference books. he probably does more in his free time; these, at least, are what akira has witnessed firsthand.

he’s been around yusuke a handful of times when the other boy decides to paint. usually, akira starts out with reading a book of his own, though he inevitably will stop reading to observe a painting come to life. he’d always thought that to be hyperbole, a painting coming to life, but there’s no other word to describe what yusuke does. there’s no hesitation when yusuke moves his brush to canvas. 

the painting he’s working on now is taking him longer than the others akira was around for. the amount of movement yusuke has done on canvas is minimal to the amount of times he’s done a few brushstrokes before stepping back and examining the newly added features. he does this countless times. akira’s stomach is rumbling frequently by the time yusuke announces he’s done with a flourish.

“i’ve done it,” he announces, one arm folded across his chest to cup the elbow of the opposite arm, the hand of which is still holding the brush. he smiles wryly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and brushing back his hair with his unoccupied hand. “it put up a valiant fight, but in the end i was victorious.”

“looks good,” akira comments. yusuke sparkles – there’s no other word for it – at the compliment and picks up his paint water.

“i was trying to capture malevolent contemplation,” he says, which, what? but akira has no time to puzzle it as yusuke brings the paint water to his lips, rather than dipping his brush in as akira presumed he was going to.

“ah-” akira says, standing suddenly to cross the small space between them so he can take hold of yusuke’s wrist and stop him. yusuke’s eyes widen and he looks down to akira’s hand on his wrist. 

“you’ve saved me once again,” yusuke chuckles. “now, perhaps we should get some coffee?”