#like holy fuck man that is just so inconsiderate to me

[queercatboyrights]

Love it when I have to do a group project for a huge chunk of my grade and one of the group members completely ghosts all attempts to contact them and does zero work on it and another one refuses to communicate that they need help understanding the article we're presenting and drops a message in the group chat on literally the night before at like 10pm that she now needs help presenting her portion of the slides (and then says she doesn't need help understanding or doing anything in the morning before class when I ask her about it) 🙄

[sprytesukii]

you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

[g-xix]

Just wanted to say I literally love reading your pov on everything, like i click on notifs soo fast 😭😭😭

Also as someone whos basically been in a similar situation as Dannys ex, the respect hes lost for me is.... yeah

UNRELATED NOTE, IM OBSESSED WITH THIS KENNY EDIT SOO HERE: https://www.instagram.com/p/C2c3Si-IrSm/?igsh=MWJsbHF2YmZid2Fkdw==

Anyways love you and love reading your stuff <33

~ T

Awwhh hey T!

That's bare cute yk i acc appreciate like mad, especially today, cuz i got told to shut up from someone who i stupidly invested a lot in previously.

Don't know whether that made sense but basically, it just hurt a lot more than it should've n was just kinda humiliating overall esp bc it happened in front of other ppl ://

And whoa sorry, slightly inconsiderate vent before i'd even read the second bit, that is fr like so bad to have gone thru man, and i can't imagine what seeing this happen w a YT-er (that im assuming you used to follow) must be like. Not mentioning the fact that also then having to see the audience response to all of this must be awful, considering so many boys online (practically all of them) seem to empathise w Danny and show 0 remorse or sympathy towards his ex.

And third bit: KENNY EDIT. Omds i j watched that, holy fuck he's so fucking fine oh my fuck that edit is so underrated, the song and all the clips chosen AHHHHHH Kenny's acc too leng for me to compute Never getting over this man tbh, my standards r gonna b so high when i start dating n it's all bc of these YouTube men im watching

And ty for msging actually, i feel like i weirdly reflected a lot whilst replying... Love u too and i appreciate just your in general, T :)🫡💗

[joesmemes]

THINGS SAID IN THE GROUP CHAT SENTENCE STARTERS

Assembled by @sheenathehyena.

I gave you a beach house now be normal

It's just so fucking ridiculous it circles back around to being poignant

I'm fine but what an inconsiderate toolbox

the fucking white boi who is trying to "find himself" that you meet all of once at the beginning

Yeah you want me to shoot my baby batter all over you cover you with almost - children

YOUR PLANET'S HOPE IS SONIC THE HEDGEHOG'S TRANS ASSHOLE

Not sure how to feel about talking to actual fucking yakuza members for entertainment purposes

On a scale of Balan Wonderworld to Silent Hill, how are you dealing with your trauma?

Roses are red, violets are blue, singular they is older than singular you

Concerned Ape noises

You ever think about the fact that [name] really said "the birds work for the bourgeoisie" & they were right

My patience for slipping over improperly spilled blood has run out.

If you can see the bones of your whipped pupil, you failed.

You know the healer's oath: Only do moderate harm to those who cross you.

Man I don't know if lack of shame is a blessing or a curse.

Parsooth m'lady but would you be so kind as to partake of the exquisite past time of role playing?

So they aren't DENYING the piss kink

uhm you need to be more of a doormat…..your boundaries are making me uncomfy 😦

That's HARLEQUIN NOVEL descriptors of sex

where is my mouse arrow? where is it holy fuck

fetishize urself ig

It's always people with feet fetishes or fat fetishes that be so open about it

Look at this unhinged mother fucker

Fuck you I hope your pice of shit family burn in a dumpster fire

Sorry you had to overshare about a tough time with some random chick in school but it's not relavent to my cat at all.

We're at a sword store and it's full of exactly what you'd expect.

Nobody was reading Lemony Snicket going "teehee they made Count Olaf bitch sauce"

Wikipedia I love you but your donation pleas sound like a lying teenager begging for money online

There's no right way to look at the guy that tossed his baby off a cliff and say "I think he needs to look cool for a minute there" is all I'm saying

Okay, wonderful. GREAT, take them all. Please leave immediately

one time I ran a server and I was being weird so I changed literally everyone's nickname to Frank

AKGHDLK I'm gonna SOB they asked if they could share their ticklefics

heavy meals always make me HONK MIMIMIMIMI

I found a fucking book of Mormon lmafo

lemme go take a dump and ill set it up

THREE. THREE TIMES. HE'S BEEN ARRESTED FOR INSIDER TRADEING THREE FUCKING TIMES.

tell her it was you who farted, establish dominance

I have been hoarding vidya games for the three of us to play like a dragon

Nearly had a heart attack because I was poopin and saw blood but realized it was my period

Ok we need to get a big cardboard box and a vaguely feminine scarecrow dressed as a boyfriendless girl

Puts my head in your lap like a cat

Some Filipinos wanna buy your titty mousepads

the chris chan trials are about to be the depp vs heard trial for people who had unrestricted internet access at a young age

Now u will screenshot us talking shit and put it in the callout 😭

GUYS I NEED PROOF THAT [name] IS GAY TO STICK IT TO A 19 YEAR OLD ALT RIGHT IDIOT

🙂 our fursona is gonna b friends with sonic

I both love and hate [name]’s writing. How they go from ancient purple prose to “oh shit oh fuck”

i guess you could say…. this was a triumph

[burning-basilisk]

Fully accepting the fact that I’m actually a very emotionally sensitive guy is turning out to be one hell of a trip.

Growing up in an insular, patriarchal satellite culture steered me towards the default role of logical problem-solver... which I got pretty good at, actually.

And it turns out, for males, it’s really easy to hide stunted emotional development behind logical competence. People have always forgiven me for being painfully inconsiderate or not being able to read the room, or being absolute garbage at maintaining relationships.

In traditional patriarchies, the only person a man is allowed to be emotionally vulnerable with (if anyone) is a romantic partner. In the wake of being married to someone who, to this day, seems incapable of any kind of remorse, I have started actively seeking emotional support from others in my life, like my sister and my closest friends, and holy fuck is it revolutionizing my whole identity.

Literally everything about me. All of my interests, habits, hobbies... I used to have Perfectly Logical Reasons(tm) for my likes and dislikes. Made it really easy to be an elitist prick about my tastes, and “sour grapes” at everything else by using very eloquent language to describe why activities that make me uncomfortable, like team sports, are just inferior activities anyway.

But now, I see WHY. I can connect the dots between the things I have always loved or disliked throughout different points in life, and the shape that emerges is... me. My passions, insecurities, strengths, weaknesses... I’m less of an amorphous ghost haunting a bunch of sparkly fat inside of a suit of meat, and more of an actual being, with experience and agency and depth.

I’m allowed to be angry. I’m allowed to need others. To know these cognitively is one thing, but to feel them is entirely different.

I watched a video today where my absolute favorite YouTube psychiatrist (yes I know how that sounds, but I fucking love Dr. K and HealthyGamerGG) guided a short meditation that involved attending to inner fear and anxiety, and showing compassion to myself. And I fucking wept.

I see myself more. I feel myself more. But more important than any of that is how I now better trust myself to actually be able to make others happy. To accept my own sensitivity is accept that of others, and to understand them better.

I don’t need to be able to explain WHY I enjoy creating or experiencing a piece of art. I can just enjoy it. And so can anyone else. But sharing our love with each other makes our lives more worth living.

And now I’m preparing to do a task that I have been putting off for months because of how emotionally difficult it is. No more rationalizing my procrastination.

I see, in my head and in my heart, an anxious, scared little boy who I have whipped and beaten and abused for decades whenever he underperformed or was too vulnerable or acted in a way that wasn’t consistent with what my ego or identity demanded of him... I need to apologize to him. He needs someone to comfort him, and tell him that he is kind and lovable, despite his mistakes and shortcomings.

He needs someone to hold him and tell him that he’s going to be okay.

I’ve never been very good at giving comfort or affection... but I have to try.

I have to.

[midnightblackdaylily]

9/21/22

You’re gone again tonight. I think I’m getting more used to it. Just not the lying bit of it. That’s the worst bit. Just be fucking honest. I know you’re not at the gym for five fucking hours. I’m not that fucking stupid. I know you know I’m not. God just thinking about that makes me wanna cry.

Ursoc is still being a little bitch. Surprise surprise. I’m so tired of him crying every five minutes. I wanna go soak in the hot tub and drown.

I’m hoping that maybe one day I’ll be happy again. Today is not that day.

Edit:

I jumped in the hot tub and figured while I’m trying to relax, this would be the perfect time to air my grievances with everything and everyone. (Just kidding. He started screaming so now I’m making myself a hot bath.)

Either I’m a live in maid or a walking cock sleeve. That’s all I am anymore. I’m either cleaning up someone’s mess or being hounded with sexual shit. Well used to. He stopped doing that, thank fuck. Maybe he finally took the hint.

But for you, dear roommate, you’re a whole other story. I don’t understand you. At all. You’re fucking me one day and the next you’re gone for hours on end. Am I just a post nut clarity? Someone you can pretend is someone else to make you happy? Fuck. I told myself I wouldn’t cry and here I am tearing up on the edge of the tub. God damn it.

I’m just so tired of being temporary and then tossed to the side. I’m tired of being second choice. I don’t even know what I want anymore. I want sex but sometimes I just can’t stand it. I miss the physicality of it. The cuddling afterwards, the dirty talk that means nothing to you apparently, ALL OF IT. I don’t want it from him because I’m worried he’ll tread into territory I’m not comfortable with.

I just sat down in the tub and holy shit is it small.

Anyway, yeah. The whole piss thing? No. Too far. Too gross. That was the whole reason I took a shit ton of showers at the hotel. I made myself sick because I wouldn’t use the restroom. He talks about wanting kids. Man, I can’t handle a kid, even if I had help (since he claims that having help would change anything [spoilers, it wont!].) I used to want all that stuff. I wanted to be a stay at home mother. Now I barely ever leave the house.

Honestly, when we were both going through the food poisoning, I actually enjoyed feeling like ass because you hung out with me. I know you’re not obligated to, because we are only roommates, but holy shit was it nice to have someone around. Now you’re leaving again and I feel so fucking alone and afraid that you’ll tire of me and move onto the next best thing. There is no hope for me. It doesn’t feel like it.

The guy that loves me is suffocating and overbearing. The one I live with is oblivious and inconsiderate.

Ursoc has started howling. Maybe I should get out of the tub. Telling him to be quiet isn’t doing anything. It never does. Why do I even bother? I’d get out and go to bed but Ursoc sure as shit won’t let me sleep. Roommate isn’t here which means I get to deal with a crying child all night. There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping on the couch.

Fuck man. Today fucking blows. At least I’m getting number. Maybe by tomorrow I won’t feel a thing.

[thatharringrovehoe]

Okay, you know fucking what? I'm gonna say it. Season one Steve Harrington did NOTHING WRONG. Yeah. Take that. Come get me. He did NOTHING. Inviting the girl he likes to a party he's throwing with a couple friends where he was nothing but cordial and charming to both Nancy and her friend that Nancy invited without asking does not make him a douchebag. Turning to leave to give Nancy privacy to change and then accepting the invitation to have sex that Nancy gave him does not make him a douchebag. Nowhere in the episode does it mention Steve being selfish or inconsiderate in bed either. As a matter of fact apparently it was pretty great? At least according to the supposed noises coming from Steve's room. AND REGUARDLESS. Steve breaking Jonathan's camera was completely justified. Like, are you actually kidding me? If I had a girlfriend and was in the middle of an intimate moment with her, especially one as meaningful as her first time, I would put that pervert's dick in the DIRT. That was the creepiest most invasive thing anyone outside of Brenner ever did in the WHOLE SHOW. And it was brushed off. Through the whole show Nancy is shitty to him. She brushes off his concern about being in huge trouble with his dad with the whole underage drinking thing because a girl (who, for all intensive purposes, was Nancy's responsibility) disappeared. He didn't even tell Nancy to not mention she was at his house. He just asked not to mention the alcohol. He catches her with Jonathan after she blew him off (which btw he took way more graciously than any teenage boy I've ever met) in Nancy's room, embracing on Nancy's bed. The ONLY logical conclusion is she's cheating. The graffiti was shitty but #1) Steve didn't paint it Tommy did and #2) Honestly it wasn't like. Bad? Have ya'll been to high school recently? Because holy shit, teenagers are WAY CRUELER than this. I've seen shit written in bathroom stalls that make Tommy's tag look like a god damn love letter. AND STEVE CLEANED IT OFF ANYWAY SO???! He ends up ditching literally all of his friends for this girl. Like, Tommy and Carole were kind of shitty? But. Not really? They weren't great to Nancy but they also weren't bad. They obviously don't like her but they respect that Steve cares about her. And you know what? Yeah, they shouldn't have tagged the movie theatre. But I understand them talking shit about her after they all ran away. Steve is their friend and it looks like she obviously cheated on him and her new guy beat Steve to shit. And he ends up just dropping his whole social circle for this girl. Then. THEN. He finds Nancy AT JONATHAN'S HOUSE, bloodied and scared and rushes in to help because wow holy red flags bat man. He was only there to apologize to BOTH OF THEM and ended up rushing in after a literal demon crashes through the ceiling to save them. And even then? EVEN THEN??? They're NOT NICE. NOT IN ANY WAY GREATFUL. One of the bravest and most selfless things in the whole first season was treated as a joke. And to top it all off, you see Nancy and Steve happily ever after sitting on the couch at Christmas after she gives the camera STEVE GOT to make up for (justifiably) breaking the original and immediately we see that Nancy doesn't want to be there. She's obviously in love with Jonathan. I just. Steve Harrington was not a douchebag. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[fandom-monium]

I JUST READ KITCHEN CATASTROPHES OMG ITS SOOO CUTE UGH MY HEART SO SOFT CAN YOU PLSSS DO A PART 2? THANK YOU KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DO

AN: thank you, anon! i dont plan to make a sequel to KC. But if i did:

For Valentine’s Day

Summary: In which you throw a wrench in Spencer’s plans: you don’t like Valentine’s Day. “If it’s with you, I guess it’s not so bad.”

WC: 2.9k (whoops)

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, semi anti-valentines day, Spencer tears up but dont worry were there to fix that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, post-For the Holidays

Fuck cooking, Spencer thinks one day.

It's an irrational thought. The kind that strikes through his mind in a flash of irritation like a scrape of the knee as he is perusing the internet. Yes, he is using a computer willingly. He has to because he's desperate.

Cooking is stupid. Who really needs it, right?

…

He needs it. God, he needs it so bad.

His need to learn cooking wasn't as incessant until recently. Until you came along.

Spencer is a meticulous person and a romantic if you'd ever met one. Makes sense considering how he grew up, reading the classics and all that. He's read all the gooey literary shit old people write and while he never understood those meanings it all dawned on him one day. Quotes written like 'the stars in their eyes' and 'sunshine glowing off them like a halo', suddenly makes sense once he meets you. Or at least, after coming to know you, months into your newfound friendship.

It's because of this he plans accordingly the weeks leading up to Valentine's day! Because again he's meticulous and a romantic and a genius so he plans every step and makes a back up plan in case A, B, and C fall through.

Is he going overboard? 

… Nah. No way. Not when it comes to you.

But fuck with a capital F, man.

It's your third date. Or what is supposed to be your third date if you would just stop being you for a second.

Then again, he loves you a lot and he wouldn't love you if you weren't, well, you.

Although—pardon his french—what the fuck. 

Spencer knows he needs to learn to cook. You've tried plenty of times to teach him and he loves learning and he especially loves it when you are the teacher (wait, does he have a teacher/student fantasy? Maybe. That’s something he'll look into later. Preferably with you). 

Unfortunately, he's terrible at it.

He's made progress and he knows it's true because you said so but the miniscule progress he's made is. Not. Enough. And it's all your fault! Because he gets so distracted by you during your lessons, like when you put your hands over his to show him proper slicing techniques—holy fuck, he wanted to combust right there—or just watching your deft hands at work, lips and brow scrunched in concentration in that adorable way. And you smell like cooking oil or whatever you're making and you're hot.

He's so into you it physically hurts. Ugh. How is he so lucky? 

You're also the first person he's been this into since Maeve. And everyone knows how well that turned out.

So he tries to dial it down for Valentine’s Day. Morgan told him once he tends to throw himself into everything he does, including love. And when you two got together, he promised the universe he will not fuck this up. He ends up combining Morgan’s advice with Luke’s, trying to be casual like Luke says because apparently you're just as into him as he is of you. 

The thought makes him grin uncontrollably. Luke says it makes him look like a clown but a lovesick clown. A lovefool, Luke hehs.

Spencer doesn’t get the joke, but it does nothing to deter him.

As Luke advised, Spencer does “not” make a dozen back up plans and does “not" plan weeks in advance. Because that wouldn't be casual, would it?

But now the day’s come and as Valentine’s Day turns to Valentine’s Night, Spencer wants to pull his hair, rub his frustratedly stinging eyes but he can't because he's in the middle of work, in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of his desk and he refuses to be that guy. Not again.

Why does he feel like sobbing? Like a loser? 

Because you don't like Valentine’s Day. No, you abhor it.

It happens in the middle of the work day. It's like he tried to open a door only for a bucket of ice water to be dumped on him and now he looks like a drowned rat. He definitely feels like one.

You're talking with Garcia about her Valentine’s Day plans as you multitask, switching between putting together packets and stacking them aside. Then taking them under the hole-puncher and stapling them together because the BAU isn't all kicking down doors and catching freaks. 

It makes sense that you’re chatting with Garcia during your break. The two of you have become two peas in a pod after you came out of your shell. Now you're inseparable. Only you make Garcia leave her batcave as much as she does now.

Out of sight, he catches tidbits of your conversation when he hears distinctively: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

Okay, you didn't say that verbatim but you might as well have, grimacing as you three hole-punch a packet and his heart. Then a nail on his coffin only it’s with a stapler. 

Thump. Chick.

Spencer winces; there goes your his Valentine’s Day plans. 

It shouldn't sting as much as it does. You've been dating for over a month and Valentine’s Day is definitely not his favorite holiday either. It's not even top 3. And as you rant he can’t help but silently nod in agreement, all the facts straight: yes, it's an eyesore. Yes, it's a capitalistic holiday. Yes, people should do nice things for their significant others no matter the time and not because it's expected on a specific day. Yes, it doesn't compare to Halloween—

The thing is, you two aren't that “couple-y”, at least in a traditional sense. Not like Will and JJ who got a babysitter so they could go out or like Luke and Garcia as they plan to go to a special Valentine’s Day event she wants to check out (she vehemently denies anything going on between them but he doesn't need to be a genius to see the affection they have for one another. Just kiss already, damn).

So yeah, Spencer hoped to spend the romantic holiday with you. For once, he'd have Valentine’s Day plans, aside from exchanging cards with the team and his mother.

But apparently you hate Valentine’s Day! So there goes plan A, B, C, and D!

Spencer feels the tears spring at the corner of his eyes. He sniffs as subtly as he can, raising an open case file to his face. Of all the plans he hadn't thought through this was not one of them. IQ 187, his ass.

He should've known. Or at least ask your thoughts on Valentine’s Day. That was inconsiderate on his part. He blinks back tears, withdrawing into himself despite his hurt because he is a lovefool and only for you. He just wants to impress you, make you happy even if that means canceling your first Valentine’s Day together.

Now if you'll excuse him, he has to call off a few reservations and make some returns. Several actually.

Can you return a dozen donuts in the shape of hearts?

… Yeah, he better ask Emily for the rest of the day off.

—

"Hey Newb, have you seen Spencer? I haven't seen him since his break," You ask, resting your chin in your hand as you squint at another form. Your eyes are beginning to tire. 

Spencer asked you several times over the course of the last week, checking to see if you were free today. You are, so you planned to hang with him after work, but he hasn't returned from his break and he wasn't answering your calls or texts. Not unusual but still odd for your boyfriend (you still can’t believe you get to say that).

Luke sighs, his smooth voice reaching over your shared divider, "You know at some point I'm just not going to respond. You guys can’t call me Newbie forever."

"Keep telling yourself that," You snort without looking up.

Another sigh and you smirk: you win.

"For your information," Luke grumbles, words punctuated with sass, "Doc went home."

You pause. "Home?" He didn't tell you.

"Yeah, probably to get ready for your date."

"Our date?" You frown and stand up, leaning over the divider to see if Luke’s fucking with you.

He isn't. Luke shrugs, humming wistfully as he rests his cheek in his hand, "You should've seen how excited he was, being it your first Valentine's Day and all. I told him to chill out because you'll love whatever it is no matter what but I'm sure he ignored that and planned something spectacular for you guys." Sitting back, he twirls around in his chair.

You grimace, recalling your earlier conversation with Garcia. 

Shit.

"Meanwhile, I have to spend Galentine's Day with Garcia because all the ladies of the BAU are taken and I have nothing better to do—" Luke comes to a full 720, catching the tail end of your coat as you whip it on and make for the door. "—um, excuse you?"

"If Emily asks, I had an emergency!" You manage to call back, throwing open the glass door.

"Okay?"

"Thanks, Newb!"

As the elevator door dings shut with you inside, leg jumping because you have a sneaking suspicion you fucked up, Luke slouches in his chair and grumbles.

He's not a newb. Or a newbie.

—

You rush over to Spencer's, catching your breath as you stumble to his front door. There's shuffling from inside, the faint sound of clanking and crashing and your heart swells because this is the man you’ve fallen for, the first one you've ever felt this way for. Here he is, being all considerate and romantic. And here you are, fucking it up when your relationship’s barely even started.

God, you're an asshole, you berate yourself as you turn the doorknob and push open the door. You're an asshole you're an asshole you’re an asshole—

Then your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. 

Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth and nose as your favorite scented candles hit you like someone shoved a bouquet in your face. The description isn't too far off considering there's a lovely bouquet of your favorite flowers still in its wrapping, haphazardly set next to a dozen donuts on the coffee table like no one's business. Its petals are strewn across the floor, a few in tiny piles like they were hastily swept to the side. Red and pink and dark green fill your vision.

Who gutted Cupid and tossed his organs around, holy fu-

"(Your name)?"

Startled, you crane your head to find Spencer, beautiful hair askew and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he clutches flowers to his chest. In his other hand, he grips the colored strings of several shiny red and pink balloons in the shape of hearts and—fuck—your heart might actually float up from your chest and into your eyes.

This is your man. Your partner. Your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend panics, fumbling for a second before stuffing the balloons and trimmed flowers back into the room behind him and slamming the door shut. He turns back to you, eyes wide.

"What-what are you doing here?" Spencer stammers, wringing his hands together.

You blink at him, dumbly holding up your phone. "You-uh-you left early and didn't return my calls."

"I'm sorry. I think I left my phone at work," Probably because he left in such a rush, Spencer groans, looking anywhere but you. The petals scattered over his floor are quite pretty in this light. "And I was a bit busy."

"I'm sure you were," You gawk openly at the strings of fairy lights hung around his living room. It's a clash of aesthetics. Spencer always rocked dark academia, but despite how ugly the combination of red and pink decorations with his nature green walls and dark wood is, it leaves his apartment a little brighter, a little cozier, and you love it.

You love everything about this.

But as you take in the ugly beauty of it all, Spencer fidgets at the doorway, mistaking your awe as shock and disgust. Wiping sweaty palms on his trousers, his eyes dart around, trying to focus on something, but every place he lays his eyes on makes him cringe. He catches all the things he couldn't clean up or put away in time. No doubt you do too. All the leftover flower petals, the donuts he can’t return, candles that haven’t blown out because he has the lungs of an 8-year old asthmatic. 

Spencer can't imagine how appalled you are.

And the longer your silence stretches on, the more nervous he gets so he blurts out, "I'm so sorry, (Your Name)!"

Your brow shoots up as he begins to ramble.

"You must hate this. I'll put everything away."

"You really don't have to—" You stop him, and your heart nearly crumbles as Spencer's does when he finally meets your worried gaze. 

His eyes gleam with unshed tears. He swallows, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Doc—"

"At least not without asking you—"

"Doctor—"

"I understand if you want to break up—" His voice cracks, as if the idea itself will destroy him (it definitely will). 

"Spencer—" His voice, wobbly and dripping with unnecessary guilt, draws you to him.

"But I want you to know that I—"

With an exasperated sigh, you grab his hand as yours finds the nape of his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. 

For a second, Spencer doesn't respond because who kisses the person they're about to break up with? Strange, really. But then he kisses you back. His hands remain frozen, unsure of where he stands, but he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He figures this is a new social cue he has yet to learn. And if this is the last time you kiss him, he'll treasure every second of it, take whatever you'll give him because again he's a lovefool for you. 

And when you pull back, he's too dazed he nearly misses the look you give him. Suddenly, he can’t breathe.

You look at him like he hung the stars instead of cheap fairy lights around his apartment. 

Spencer’s confused. "I-I... Wha—"

"I'm not breaking up with you," You chuckle, and you nearly burst out laughing as genuine puzzlement takes over his face. You tug him behind you, plopping yourselves on his couch. You smile, appreciating the way he organized the cushions and throw-pillows; there's now space for two people to lay down.

You take a breath. "You wanna know why I don't like Valentine’s Day?"

Spencer slouches, though his body is angled towards you so you suppose that's good. He sighs, "Because it's a capitalistic holiday that reinforces the idea of doing the bare minimum…"

He begins listing your reasons, and your eyes soften. Of course he listened and remembered even if you mentioned it offhandedly.

You nod once he finishes. "Yes but before that—and I can't believe I'm telling you this—back when I was a little kid, I didn’t get any Valentines."

Spencer's brow furrows at the newfound information. You continue, "I'd get some from my friends and stuff but that's not what Valentine's Day is about. At least not when you're a kid. When you’re a dumb kid, it’s about couples and romantic shit, and I didn't really have any of that growing up." You purse your lips and glance away, face flushed with embarrassment. It's really not that big a deal, but putting it into words makes the idea seem more intimate and personal.

It takes a moment for your words to sink in as Spencer can't believe his ears. How could you not have been showered with love and affection and presents on Valentines Day? It's like water doesn't make things wet or fire doesn't produce heat; it just doesn't make sense. Because you deserve that much and more.

"So every Valentine's Day, I lowered my expectations and eventually I stopped caring. I'd tell myself those things and I started to believe them," You bite your lip, eyes crinkling as you give Spencer a sheepish smile. "But now I have you."

At that, Spencer returns your smile, letting you take his hand. Any tears he had seem to evaporate instantly.

“So, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I stand by what I said before, Valentine’s Day sucks. But if it’s with you,” Blushing deeply, you play with Spencer's hand, large and veins defined compared to yours, shrugging, “I guess it’s not so bad.”

Spencer’s smile broadens, and he intertwines your fingers together. "So what you’re saying is, you don’t hate this?” He looks around his living room.

You shake your head, unable to stop the grin crossing your lips. “No. In fact, very much the opposite. Honestly, thank you for this, it’s beautiful. I have no words.” You breathe it all in; the candles, the flowers, the— Your nose wrinkles and you snort, “Did you burn something?”

Bashfully looking down, he scratches his chin. “I-uh-tried to make your favorite dishes. Though, I was hoping the candles and flowers would mask it.”

You giggle and pull him into you, snuggling into his side. “That’s okay. I’d much rather have you anyway.”

With Spencer a blushing, stuttering mess in your arms, head resting on your chest, you press a kiss to his hair and conclude; yeah, you don’t like Valentine’s Day. 

But you sure as hell love Spencer more.

—

AN:  FtH status: finished - 7/5. yes 7.

I realize this was not what anon requested but oh well i wrote this at 2 am 

I’m not that anti v day but i stand by the capitalistic aspect.

yes this takes place after For the Holidays.

also included luke bc hes my bro and i honestly think he deserves so much more than what the show gave also garvez ftw

happy post valentine’s day!!

Song: Lovefool by The Cardigans

[lilblog-asatreat]

ooh maybe "Um excuse me? This is a library. Can you and your noisey friends stop coming in everyday just to be a disturbance?" with taakitz ?

Edit: Oh shit, I forgot to add a link to the song I found that I based Kravitz's performance on! I just searched violin music and this was one of the first things that popped up, and it's really good!!!

The doors to the library burst open with a loud bang, and Kravitz hits his face in the book he has laid out on the table and sighs in irritation. He hears four pairs of footsteps run past him as their owners whoop and holler, and the students sitting at other tables around this section of the library cheer.

"Are you all ready to see the best show you will ever see in your fuckin lives?" The beautiful male elf yells, as usual.

The audience cheers again and Kravitz groans. Every fucking day. He supposes he can just get up and find a quieter part of the library or just go back to his dorm to study, but he shouldn't have to be the one to leave because a group of people decided to be as obnoxious as possible in a place meant for studying.

"Lup! Set these clubs on fire!" The human man says.

Kravitz looks up with horror as the female elf points a wand at the clubs the human man is already juggling, and she manages to set them ablaze without injuring him or setting anything else on fire. It doesn't throw off his juggling in the slightest. The audience goes wild which attracts the attention of a few other students who make their way over to see the spectacle.

This is beyond the point that Kravitz would normally leave, but fear paralyzes him when the human starts getting wilder and wilder with his throws, barely catching the flaming clubs before throwing them higher and higher into the air.

"Careful Maggie, you might set this whole building on fire," the male dwarf chuckles.

"You're absolutely right, Merle, but oh no! They got away from me!" Maggie exclaims as he throws all of them up into the air and steps to the side.

The audience gasps, and Kravitz stands and scoops up his books and violin case, getting ready to sprint out of there. But then Merle points his holy symbol at the falling clubs, and a huge vine comes up out of the ground and grabs them before throwing them back up toward the elves. The male elf points his wand at the clubs, and they explode in a spectacular display of fireworks.

The audience gives a standing ovation as they all take a bow. Kravitz sets his books back down on the table, breathing deeply to try and calm his heart rate. He looks back up at the male elf who is smiling brightly with one arm around his sister. There are still some smoldering embers in the air popping off smaller fireworks, and Kravitz watches as each one lights up his face, making his freckled skin glow briefly with flashes of rainbow light.

Kravitz stands so transfixed by how pretty he looks and his joyous laughter that he almost misses Lup saying, "Who wants to watch my brother fly through an obstacle course of different projectiles?"

Kravitz shakes his head and looks around at the books and bookshelves that start levitating and moving around to different positions in the air. He looks back at the male elf's devious smile before he shrinks into a small dove and takes to the air.

Kravitz has to stop this chicanery before someone gets hurt.

He pushes past some of the students that gathered from other parts of the library until he's standing up front and center. "Um, excuse me? Can you all, like, not do this? Someone is going to end up getting hurt."

They all snort, and the books and bookshelves slowly make their way back to where they belong. Lup steps forward with her hands on her hips and a devious smile on her face. "Don't worry, dude. No one's going to get hurt. We're professionals; we've practiced this routine many times before doing it here."

Maggie and Merle snicker behind their hands.

"Somehow I highly doubt that," Kravitz says, eyes narrowed. "You're students here just like the rest of us, and you're just here to show off, and I don't appreciate you doing that here, in a library, of all places where you're just being a disturbance for people who are trying to study."

The three of them laugh as the crowd around them starts booing at him, and Kravitz feels his cheeks heat up in annoyance and embarrassment. The dove flies down and morphs back into his elf form as he steps closer to Kravitz.

"It's ok everyone, calm down. It just sounds like someone's jealous that he doesn't have as high of a performance skill as yours truly." The male elf says with a smile and a wink.

The audience laughs, and Kravitz's cheeks burn.

"I'm not jealous!" Kravitz splutters. "I can out perform you any day! I just think that it's really inconsiderate of you four to be doing this here instead of out on the quad or something especially if you're going to be playing with fire!"

Lup laughs. "Here that, Magnus? Merle? He thinks he can out perform us!"

Kravitz crosses his arms and opens his mouth to say something, but the male elf cuts him off. "Prove it, hot stuff. Right now, and if you're good enough, we'll consider moving our act somewhere else."

Kravitz's heart pounds in his chest. Sure, he's studying to be a bard and a conductor, but that doesn't mean he likes being put on the spot. Plus, does that damned beautiful elf actually think he's hot?

"Fine." The crowd parts as Kravitz walks back to his table and pulls out his violin case before opening it and pulling out the instrument. He pauses for a moment considering an idea that pops into his head. He feels like if he follows through with it, it would be cheating, but he really wants to win this and to impress the elf.

He makes up his mind, closes his eyes, and starts to play. It's a fast paced and intense song that's full of rivalry and challenge. He knows he's good at what he does, and this song is going to prove it. This song is going to make them dance.

The audience starts clapping in time with the rhythm, and Kravitz opens his eyes and smirks at the look of surprised awe on the elf's face. He can already see him and the other three struggling to not tap their feet in time with the rhythm, and he hasn't even worked in his magic yet. Perfect.

He takes a breath before murmuring an incantation. Instantly, Magnus, Merle, Lup, and the unnamed elf start dancing in place with a yelp of surprise. The audience laughs and starts dancing too, though no magic spell had been cast on them. Kravitz's music catches the attention of more students who are just walking into the library, and they join the crowd to listen too.

Kravitz closes his eyes again and starts moving to the music. He plays through short staccato eighth notes and runs through sixteenth notes and dramatically pulls through the longer notes and gets totally immersed in the song.

At the last few bars, he opens his eyes again and stares directly into the elf's sparkling brown eyes before finishing the song with a dramatic push of the bow. He ends the spell on the four performers, and they collapse in a heap on the ground as the rest of the students clap, cheer, and laugh. Kravitz takes an over dramatic bow and laughs.

Magnus, Merle, and Lup get up from the floor, grumbling slightly and fighting back amused smiles while the unnamed elf gets up, brushes himself off, and walks until he's just a foot away from Kravitz. Up close, Kravitz can count the freckles splashed across his nose and cheek bones. He wonders if his hair is as soft as it looks, glinting in the overhead lights.

"Well, that was quite the performance, handsome, but I have to say, that's cheating." The elf pokes him in the chest, and Kravitz laughs, a blush creeping up his face. "But you did get everyone else dancing and attracted a bigger crowd, so fair's fair. I only have one condition though before we take our performance somewhere else."

"Oh? And what's that?" Kravitz asks with a smirk.

The elf sticks out his hand for a handshake. "The name's Taako, and I need your stone of farspeach frequency."

Kravitz laughs before taking his hand and shaking it. "I'm Kravitz, and here." He pulls out his stone from within his pocket. "We can get it tuned in right now."

Kravitz and Taako tune each other's stones as the crowd of students disperses. They say goodbye and promise to call each other later that evening, and as Kravitz walks back to his table to put away his books, he smiles giddily and feels lighter than air.

[starrybethany]

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 6

Adam Boqvist: I’m Sure Masterlist

Word Count: 3.7K

Taglist: @flowery-mess​ @musiclove-12​

I sit in the lobby of the gynecologist’s office, flipping mindlessly through a parenting magazine. These magazines are so stupid- they’re meant to make parenting look easy and flawless, like nothing could go wrong- spoiler note, they’re wrong.

Your partner could leave you at any moment.

Your child could lie to you.

You could end up unexpectedly pregnant multiple times.

Children aren’t as easy as people like to think that they are. I sigh, throwing the magazine onto the coffee table in front of me and peak at my watch. It’s a minute until the time that my appointment is actually scheduled for. I was hoping to get in earlier to get out earlier. I want to pick Holden up from school and take him to an arcade to relax, since everything has been so hectic lately.

The slow, casual opening of the sliding doors are a sharp contrast to the frazzled, out-of-breath man that runs through them. He pants, looking around frantically at all of the couples staring back at him before locating me.

“Oh good, you haven’t gone in yet,” he gasps, practically throwing himself into the chair next to me and turning his hat around on his head so it’s backwards.

“I thought you were a professional athlete, how are you so out of breath?” I point out, ignoring his comment.

“I’ve been missing my workouts to hang out with you and the boys,” he gives me a flirty smile.

I roll my eyes. “Sorry to be such an inconvenience.”

His smile fades as he looks at me. “Hey, that’s not what I-“”Y/N Y/L/N?” The nurse calls my name at the perfect time.

I jump out of the chair, different from the past couple of weeks where I’ve had to ease myself up due to my growing belly.

“How are you doing today?” The nurse asks as she leads the way down the hallway.

“I’m good, how about you?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

Adam trails behind us as we enter a small exam room. He hovers awkwardly in the doorway as the nurse brings me over to the scale, weighing me and taking down my height. I motion to one of the empty chairs beside the computer and he quickly sits down, an apologetic look on his face.

I can’t help but feel annoyed.

I know he’s new to this and uncomfortable and I should just appreciate him being here in the first place, but holy hell I can’t hold his hand through everything. If he can’t even sit down in a fucking chair by himself, how can I trust him to change a diaper? Or God forbid, if he had to be with the baby by himself?

I’m doubting the man next to me as I take the chair beside him, updating the nurse on my personal information.

“Any concerns?” The nurse asks, typing furiously on the keyboard.

“My back is hurting really bad. With my last pregnancy, I don’t remember it hurting this bad,” I confess, rubbing my lower back as the shooting pain makes its way through my back.

“I will write a note for the doctor. Alright, she’ll be in shortly,” she smiles before leaving.

I feel like I’m practically begging her with my eyes to stay. I don’t want to be left alone with Adam, I know I should get used to it because he sounds like he wants to be involved in the boys lives now, but there’s something preventing me from feeling fully comfortable around him.

“What was it like with Holden?”

His question snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn my head towards him, making eye contact with him. I feel taken aback every time we make eye contact- it’s like I’m seeing his blue eyes for the first time all over again.

“What was what like with Holden?” You’ve missed out on a lot of moments, you’re going to have to be specific here, buddy.

“Your pregnancy,” he shifts awkwardly. “You said you have more backaches this, uh, time, than you did when you were, um-“”You can say the word pregnant, Adam.”

He clenches his jaw. “Fine. You said you have more backaches this pregnancy than when you were pregnant with Holden, so what else is different? There, are you happy I said it? Pregnant.”

“Whatever,” I cross my arms over my chest, excitement for this appointment ruined by Adam’s shitty attitude. He’s shown me time and time again that he’s still selfish, so tell me again, why am I allowing him to be here?

“Well?”

“Well what?” I question, looking at him in disbelief.

“What’s different?” He asks like I’m the stupid one.

“Oh my God, Adam, I still get nauseous at the smell of scrambled eggs, my feet hurt more when I was pregnant with Holden than with this baby, but this baby makes my back hurt more, and this baby loves to kick way, way, way fucking more than Holden did. There, are you happy I said it?” I repeat his question. “Do you feel like asking about my pregnancy with Holden makes up for you not being there?”

He’s quiet. We sit in this sharp tension for a good five minutes before the doctor arrives, neither of wanting to say anything. Or maybe it’s that we just don’t know what to say.

“Hi, how are we feeling today?” Dr. Rocht questions as she enters the room.

“Hungry,” I respond, dreaming about the local sub shop down the street from the women’s clinic.

Adam gives me a look of disbelief, like he can’t believe that I would even be thinking about food after the fight we just had. But hey, the baby’s hungry.

“Why don’t we have you climb on the exam table so we can get you an ultrasound of this growing baby, huh?” She requests.

I nod, standing up and climbing onto the table, lifting my shirt so that my small bump is in view.

I see Adam’s eyes widen at the sight of it, like he didn’t actually realize that I was pregnant, but I ignore him.

“So did you open the envelope to see what you’re having?” She makes small talk as she preps the equipment.

“It’s a boy,” I smile with the news.

“A boy,” Dr. Rocht repeats with a smile of her own, “Is your son excited to have a younger brother?”

“He is! I think he would’ve been excited either way, but I think he’s really looking forward to having a baby brother.”

She rubs the gel on my lower stomach and I’m silent as I stare anxiously at the ultrasound screen, waiting for the picture of my baby boy to show up.

There he is. With his little button nose, tiny lips, and the outline of his body, I cherish it every time I get to see him. He’s really there- he’s really inside of me. Using my body and the nutrients that I give him, he’s growing.

A wide, cheesy grin spreads across my face as I see him.

“Are you okay there, dad?” Dr. Rocht’s voice snaps me out of the moment I’m having with myself.

I turn to look at Adam, seeing him ball his hands into fists and rub at his eyes, sniffling along with the motion. “Yeah, it’s just, uh, the first time that. I’ve seen this.”

A pane of guilt hits my chest with the way I’ve been treating Adam. He’s been out of his kids’ lives for the past thirteen years, yes, but he’s trying now. And shouldn’t he get some credit for that?

The gynecologist asks me a question, turning my attention back to her. She gives me some advice about how to deal with the backaches and prints out three pictures of the ultrasound. One for me, one for Adam, and one for Holden. I tuck two of them into my purse and give the other to Adam, heading to the front desk to make my next appointment right away.

The blonde man walks past me as I talk to the receptionist, out through the front doors and into the parking lot. My emotions have been all over the place all day- I’m aware of that- but walking away from me after asking me to be involved in your sons lives and crying at the ultrasound just seems downright disrespectful and inconsiderate.

His actions clearly aren’t matching up with his words.

I walk into the parking lot, unlocking my car.

“Y/N.” I look over to see Adam waiting on a bench outside of the building, looking back at me.

“What, Adam?” I question, just wanting to get my sub, eat it, and take a nap. I feel so drained from the last couple of days. Although this may be benefiting my children, this whole process with Adam is entirely exhausting to me.

“I’m looking for an apartment. Here, in Philadelphia. For the next three months,” he informs me.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, speaking slowly. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?” I can tell by his tone that he’s instantly defensive.

That’s why, I want to respond. Because you aren’t willing to listen or understand anything other than your opinion.

“Adam, I just,” I sigh, shifting my purse strap. “Holden still hasn’t decided whether he wants a relationship with you, and I don’t know when he will make a decision. And- and there’s nothing you can do for me or this baby right now.”

“I just came to an ultrasound with you,” he points out.

“And you started an argument with me while in there.” I wave my hands around for emphasis, probably looking like a crazy person but needing to get my point across. “You stress me out. And it’s not good for my health or the baby’s health. I’m sorry, but I think you should return to Chicago. I’ll send you weekly updates.”

I get into my car, knowing that his eyes are following me, but his mouth doesn’t move. He’s finally starting to understand what I’m saying.

~

One of the good things about having a baby bump, beside it meaning that the baby is growing healthily, is that you can balance things on it. Like right now, when I have three stacks of plastic cups resting on my stomach as I carry them from the back to the front.

I set the cups on the counter, bending over to put them away.

“Okay, Y/N, Rachel, Marcella, and I have been talking, and we really like Sebastian,” Lia informs me, sliding her phone into her back pocket.

Marcella asked for the day off and Rachel had to leave early to go to a doctor’s appointment, so it’s just me and Lia this afternoon. It’s fine, it’s a slow Wednesday anyways.

“Who’s Sebastian? Is that the boy you’re kind of dating?” I question. The three girls are texting each other all of the time so they’re always caught up on each other’s lives, but I’m a little slower when it comes to that.

“No, for the second baby,” she beams, “Sebastian is the name of our favorite character from Vampires Defending the Nation. Have you seen it?”

“Nope,” I respond, knowing it’s probably some rip off of The Vampire Diaries.

“It’s so good! You have to see it,” she gushes, “So, have you thought about other names for the baby yet?”

“Not really,” I confess. “I mean, I still have another four months to think about it.”

“Hey, Y/N,” a familiar voice interrupts my conversation with Lia.

I turn around to face the customer, sighing when I see Adam standing expectantly on the other side of the counter.

“What can I get for you, Adam?” I step up to the cash register.

“I found an apartment and paid the down payment today. Just thought you should know,” he tells me.

“So, one large caramel Frappuccino,” I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice as I tap the order onto the cash register.

“And I wanted to invite you and Holden over for dinner tonight.”

“Extra whip, that’ll be an additional dollar.” My fingers jap the register harder now.

“Come on, Y/N, please. Just talk to him for me,” he pleads, pulling cash out of his wallet despite never ordering the Frappuccino.

“It is not my job to fix this for you,” I snap at him, lowering my voice once I notice other customers begin to look at us. “You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out of it. I’m sick of you fucking up and it all falling onto me, Boqvist.”

“Just tell him to respond to my texts, please.”

“It’s like you never hear a word I say,” I shake my head, exhausted from his attitude. “Your total is $5.47.”

He hands a fifty-dollar bill to me and I make sure to avoid contact with his hand, not wanting to end up in the same situation we ended up in last time we were in this café together.

“Keep the change.”

I hand him back two twenty-dollar bills, four singles, two quarters, and three pennies.

Keep the change my ass. Do you think throwing money at me will get me to change my mind?

“Coming right up,” I give him a fake smile, turning around to make his drink.

As I hand him the large cup, he leans in closer to me. I feel like I’m holding my breath, like if I release the oxygen from my lungs it’ll tangle with the oxygen from his lungs and we’ll be connected again.

“Just think about dinner, okay?” He gives me a soft smile before the front door chimes after him.

“Is that baby daddy?” Lia’s voice startles me out of my frozen state.

I nod, not trusting my voice to speak.

“Wow, he is hot,” she exclaims. When I give her a look of disapproval, she adds, “And an asshole. Total asshole.”

~

“Mom,” Holden hollers, stumbling down the steps. I pause Vampires Defending the Nation at the perfect time since Holden stops right in front of the TV.

“What’s up, bud?”

“Adam told me that he wants to buy me the new Halo game,” he states excitedly.

I keep myself from rolling my eyes. First he tries to pay me to talk to Holden for him at the café and now he’s buying Holden’s love by getting him a new video game.

Does this man think that money just fixes everything?

“That’s nice, honey,” I try to give him a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace.

“And, uh,” he suddenly looks shy, making me wonder what Adam told him this time. I never know with Adam- I can never predict him. “And he told me that he, um, invited us over for dinner. And, uh, I would like to go, if, if you want to.”

I study him. He’s not fiddling with his fingers, he’s avoiding eye contact with me not because he’s lying, but because he’s unsure of my reaction, he’s not biting his lip. He’s not feeling pressured into doing this by Adam, it’s something that he really wants to do.

“Are you sure?” I question, giving him the chance to change his mind.

“I’m sure, mom.”

“Alright,” I pull out my phone slowly to text Adam that we’d be there in an hour, giving Holden the final chance to change his mind.

He doesn’t. And now I have to see Adam in less than an hour, something that I’m dreading, yet somehow deep inside, looking forward to.

~

Adam’s apartment is only twenty minutes away from our small townhouse, but it’s a stark difference to how we live. Whereas the brick outside of our townhouse is from the early 1900s and the paint is peeling (the landlord refuses to pay me back if I paint it myself- and I’m stubborn too, so I refuse to do it for free) while I remember Adam’s apartment building being built last year and there’s a security guard at the entrance who greets us.

I reach out to grab Holden’s hand. I’m not sure if it’s more for me or him, but I think we both need the comfort of each other.

The receptionist gets clearance from Adam to allow us up to his apartment and I hesitantly knock on the fake wood door, stepping back and waiting for it to open up.

It swings open, a beaming Adam Boqvist on the other side. “Glad you guys could make it, come on in.”

We walk into the apartment hesitantly, taking off our shoes.

“So, it has three bedrooms and two bathrooms, I figured a room for me, a room for Holden, and a room for the new baby, and uh, I made spaghetti for dinner,” the hockey player rambles, hurrying over to the stove to stir the steaming pot.

“No room for you,” Holden murmurs, teasingly, nudging my arm with his.

I roll my eyes at that, but his father clearly hears his comment, because he responds, “Oh, I was thinking she would share a room with me.”

Just as I’m about to bite back with a sassy response, he takes the pot off of the stove to dump the boiling water out. I take the time to slyly check out the apartment.

The walls are a stark white- something that he’ll regret once this baby gets into his trouble-making-toddler phase, the appliances are all brand new, and the furniture looks very modern.

Truthfully, it doesn’t look comfortable to live in. It looks like something out of a magazine.

“Dinner’s ready,” Adam announces.

We pile our plates with food, and I take a seat at the table, Holden sitting across from me and Adam sitting next to me.

“A water for you and the baby, a water for Holden,” Adam states, setting a glass down beside each of our plates before taking a seat next to me. “So, Holden, how was school today?”

I zone out as my son answers.

In the seat next to Holden, a girl a couple of years younger than him would be smiling at me. Holden would reach over to pick up the piece of garlic bread that fell in her lap, setting it on her napkin on the table. A high chair would be at the end of the table next to Adam, and in between bites of his spaghetti, he would feed the waiting, hungry baby.

That baby would be an accident. But we would laugh and joke about half of our babies being accidents, not in the way we do now, but in a joking, loving way.

A way that would show, yes, this wasn’t planned, but we’re in this together. We’re always in this together.

It’s what could have been. We could have had a nice house that we designed together, three kids that were by both of us, hell, even a dog. We could have been together. We could have done this together.

“Mom?”

I look at Holden with questioning eyes. He gives me a look of concern, nodding towards Adam. “Adam asked you a question.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, meeting Adam’s eyes. He’s always been good at telling my emotions, and that’s why he can press my buttons so easily. But now he just looks like he wants to comfort me, wrap me in his arms and never let me go.

“Sorry, what did you ask?”

“Are you alright?” He mumbles like we’re the only people in the room, ignoring my question.

“I’m fine, um, the baby’s just kicking me really hard,” I lie, hoping that even if he doesn’t believe it, he’ll accept it.

He nods slowly, a tell-tale sign that he doesn’t believe my lie, but he’ll let it slide. “I asked you who you were working with today.”

“Oh, that’s Lia,” I answer. We make small talk for the rest of dinner, but I feel concern oozing both from the man beside me and the boy across from me.

I just need to get through this dinner, then I can go home and sleep. And sleep. And sleep.

I pull the shoe onto my foot, losing my balance and beginning to tumble forward. A hand shoots out to catch me, steadying me.

“Thank you,” I murmur as I rise to my full height, planting my feet firmly on the ground.

“Gotta be careful, there,” Adam mumbles back, arm still holding onto mine. We stand there in a comfortable silence for the first time in thirteen years. I don’t want it to end, but then I remember that Holden still has homework to do, and I have to do some things before work tomorrow.

“We should get going now,” I state, moving towards the door.

“Y/N, wait,” his voice stops me. I turn around to face him. “Um, I just wanted to let you know that I’m trying. And I know I’ve been saying that for a while and I haven’t really been acting like it, but I rented this apartment, and I cooked this dinner and I’m trying to be there for Holden because I haven’t been there for him.

“And I’m trying to be there for you, too. Not just because you’re carrying my child, but because you’ve been supermom for the past thirteen years. You stepped up when I couldn’t, for the both of us, and it’s just, you just,” he takes a deep breath. “You deserve the world.” I feel something tug at my heart.

“I’m really sorry. I’m sorry for not being there then, I’m sorry for not being here now when I have been here, I’m sorry for everything. And I’m going to do everything in my power to show you how sorry I am.”

I nod, soaking in his words. He’s apologizing. He’s realizing his actions- or lack thereof. And now we just need to see if his actions will match up with this grand speech he just gave me.

“You better,” I say quietly, walking out of his new apartment.

“What took you so long?” Holden asks from his spot in front of the elevator.

“I had to talk to your dad.”

“Was it- was it a good talk?” He questions, eyes asking an unasked question.

I nod. “It was a good talk, Holden.”

[cyberrat]

51st Batch Of Fics: 5th Fill

McCree/Hanzo – AlphaxAlpha AU – Part 18 – Dom/sub; Alpha in heat; taking care of sub – Jesse (and others) treated him so long like an Omega that it's really no surprise this happened...

---

“Hey Gitte… what’re you doin’?” Fareeha leans over the back of the couch to peer at the screen on Brigitte’s lap. There’s what looks like a fanfic on there but she’s too lazy to focus on what she’s reading exactly.

Brigitte groans and rubs her temple.

“I’m trying to get distracted from… you know… whatever’s going on with Jesse and Hanzo. They’ve just resorted to leave the dang door open 24/7 and I haven’t figured out yet if they do it just to fuck with me on a personal level or because of any sane reason.”

Fareeha snorts and hops over the back of the couch to sit next to Brigitte and throw an arm over her shoulders.

“Someone sounds cranky. Are you jealous?” she makes sure to draw it out as obnoxiously as she can, ending with a big fat smack of lips against Brigitte’s ear. Brigitte immediately jerks her shoulders up and lightly shoves at her.

“No I’m not! I dunno. It’s just… it feels inconsiderate somehow. I don’t mind Hanzo doing… whatever it is he’s doing, but they don’t have to keep all the rest of us awake and anxious, do they?”

Fareeha lifts her brows, trying to parse what Brigitte is trying to say to her.

“Hmm… Well as far as I can tell it seems like Hanzo has started some kind of little heat or something. I think it’s cute. He’s really into this whole… Jesse being his Alpha thing. Like he’s just a nasty little Omega.”

Brigitte hums non-committally and just stares at her screen, listlessly scrolling up and down like she needs something to do with her fingers.

Fareeha brushes a hand over her hair.

“Hey… what’s up? Why are you so upset over this?”

Brigitte shrugs and just stares more intently at the screen.

Fareeha keeps on petting over her hair slowly, trying to think of what her mother would say other than ‘get your head out of your ass’ but Brigitte starts speaking before anything more compassionate comes to mind.

“I kind of feel left out.”

“Excuse me, what?”

Brigitte shrugs, her ears now flushing.

“I kind of feel left out. They’re pretty… like… open about this shit. They’re keeping the door open so I had to go here instead of my workshop because there I can still smell Hanzo with that like… weird Omega-y scent that he has and it just makes me want to follow it and sniff it and figure it out. And when you’re close enough you can hear them go at it. He sounds fucking drunk.

“Earlier I saw Reinhardt going inside and I’m pretty sure that Jesse just lets him have a go at Hanzo so he can like sleep or something and charge up. I think Genji’s in there during nights or something. But they haven’t asked any of us, right? I don’t think I’m invited and I don’t even know if I’d really want to fuck Hanzo, but… they’re like rubbing it under our noses still, ok?”

Fareeha blinks a few times, surprised at the outburst. Brigitte isn’t really… like that. She’s not petty or jealous or even in a bad mood most of the time so hearing her explode in such a rant has her wondering what the Hell just happened.

She leans forward to peer into her friend’s face, hand stopping on her scalp. Brigitte’s cheeks are flushed. She doesn’t look upset; not really.

“You’re just… really horny, aren’t you?” Fareeha asks incredulously.

Brigitte whines and shoves at her.

“I can’t help it, okay?! Hanzo is just like… smelling like that, and I can constantly hear him whine to be bred and it’s fucking weird and fucking hot, alright?!”

By that time, Fareeha has started openly laughing at her.

“You could just go and ask Jesse, you know. I’m sure he’d let you have a ride. Don’t think Hanzo has any say in the matter anyway. He’ll be happy to get any dick he can.”

The longer she speaks, the more flushed – and horrified looking – Brigitte becomes.

“Holy shit, no! I could never. That’s way too embarrassing.”

“Oh man. I’ll never get how you can be built like a truck and still be so shy.”

“One doesn’t have anything to do with the other. And what does ‘built like a truck’ even mean?”

Fareeha clears her throat and stands up, extending her hand to Brigitte.

“Come on. Let’s at least have a peek and if you don’t wanna ask it’ll at least get us nice and horny and we can fuck. Alright?”

Brigitte’s eyes are starting to look glassy. She makes a weird choked squeaking sound as she briefly lifts her reading device to hide her flaming face behind it before throwing it onto the cushion next to herself with a low growl. “Fine. Ugh. You’re just as perverse as they are.”

“But you still get off on it,” Fareeha sing-songs, hands clapping on Brigitte’s shoulders to start shoving her out of the room with a spring in her step, excited to play voyeur.

.o.

The scent had been strong only rounding into the hallway that McCree got his rooms in. By the time they are in front of the door – open just like Brigitte had promised – it is so thick that it is almost coating the back of Fareeha’s throat.

Brigitte is standing next to her, stiff as a board. She can hear a low growling coming from her and can’t really blame her for it. The scent Hanzo is exuding is simultaneously riling her up and getting her extremely horny. She’s never smelled anything like it… thick and pungent and overwhelming but still very much Omega underneath it all. God, fuck, how did Shimada manage this? How did Jesse? What the fuck did he do to the poor bastard?

The room beyond the door is shrouded in darkness more or less. The blinds have been let down but tilted so everything is decorated with thin stripes of light. It makes Shimada look like some kind of tiger as he writhes on the bed, desperately trying to fuck into a wet-sounding fleshlight.

The way he is positioned on top of the bed… they can see his hole flashing at them, swollen and so flushed it is glowing like a damn stop-sign. Fareeha bites the tip of her tongue. She can feel Brigitte’s hand sneaking into her own, holding on tight like she wants to make sure she’s not doing anything stupid. Fareeha squeezes back hard. She kind of needs that affirmation herself.

He looks just as obscene as a heating Omega would. She’s never seen anything like it.

Suddenly Jesse steps to the bed, just as naked as his mate. He leans forward, brushing a hand over Hanzo’s hair and offering him a glass of juice with a straw inside so Hanzo only has to open his mouth and suckle on it while Jesse holds it steady.

It’s clearly a lull in the storm they’re right in the middle of, despite Hanzo so desperately fucking that fleshlight. It’s a far-cry to how Fareeha had found him all those weeks back, sulking and mad about McCree being away on a mission.

So much had changed since then...

[fuzipascal]

Prospect Fic “Friends Like These”, PG

Cee + Ezra. Cee angsting over her asexuality and Ezra being a Good Friend/Older Brother.  Word Count : 1400. Rough Draft with only mild edits. 

-----

              “Are you pining? Am I actively catching you in the act of gazing longingly after a person of the opposite sex?”

              Cee sighed, head dropping forward in resignation. One of these days she was going to put a bell on Ezra. Not that it would help while they were on the creaky freighters that transported them from job to job. And honestly, Ezra’s soft-footedness had helped save both of their lives more often than not, but still…

              He always managed to sneak up on her at the least opportune time.

              Frowning, Cee turned to face her partner. “No.”

              Ezra subtly cocked his head to the side, gazing beyond her shoulder for a moment before meeting her eyes. He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “No? Because he is.”

              Cee’s head whipped around to find that the young man who she had just been talking to was indeed staring at her from the far end of the corridor. If she had to put a word to the character of his gaze, ‘longing’ wasn’t totally incorrect.

              At least the way he scrambled behind the corner when he caught her looking was slightly amusing.

              Ezra made a tsking sound as she turned back to him and he slowly shook her head. “You’re your own woman, Cee, but boys like that… they are nothing but trouble.”

              “You don’t even know him,” Cee protested, although she agreed with his assessment.

              “No, but I know his type. I was him, once upon a time,” Ezra said thoughtfully.

              “Ah. I thought he seemed familiar,” Cee retorted. She turned slightly, leaning her shoulders against the wall. “Which is why I sent him packing.”

              Instead of becoming offended, Ezra just gave her a brilliant smile. “That’s my girl.”

--

              “She seemed nice.”

              Cee’s lips firmed as she viciously stabbed her spoon into the gray-white mush on her plate. “Mmhm.”

              “Have you heard something of the opposite to make you say no? It might do you good to get out and about and socialize with someone a little closer to your own age,” Ezra suggested delicately.

              Cee grunted noncommittedly and did her best to ignore the feel of his gaze heavy on her bent head.

 --

                When she was younger, all she could dream of was interacting with other people, living her life entwined with those of friends just like in the Streamer Girl.

              But the reality was far different.

--

                “… Cee?”

              Cee pulled her blanket tighter across her shoulders and pressed her forehead closer to the wall of their pod. “… what.”

              “Are you alright?”

              She wanted nothing more than to whip around and burrow into his chest, but the tears had all been spent by now. Nothing remained but humiliation and disgust and an aching sort of hollowness that demanded isolation.

              “… I’m fine.”

              The silence stretched on for several minutes before she heard Ezra shift and walk over to his bunk. “Well, we both know that’s not quite true, but I’ll let it go for now. Talk to me when you’re ready, Little Bird. Believe it or not, I know how to be silent and listen.”

              The thing was… he did. He often jabbered on to anyone who would listen and sometimes even to himself, but when she spoke, he devoted his full attention to her. He never interrupted, and always waited to make sure she had said everything she needed to before replying.

              … she just didn’t know how to say what she needed to say this time.

 --

              “I don’t like boys.”

              The words burst out of her, taking her entirely by surprise.

              They had probably six more minutes until docking procedures were complete and apparently her brain had decided, without her permission, to begin the conversation she had been dreading.

              Cee hesitantly looked over at Ezra. He looked a little startled by her outburst, but not otherwise upset.

              “… alright,” he said slowly. “There are plenty of people who don’t feel any attraction to the opposite…”

              “I don’t like girls, either,” Cee added heatedly, already knowing what he was going to say. “I know I’m supposed to… supposed to want… things… with other people, but I don’t, because I think it’s gross and weird, but that’s all anyone thinks about except I don’t and I know I’m weird and, and, and broken, but I just can’t…”

              “Cee!”

              Cee plastered her hands to her traitorous mouth and hung her head, unable to look Ezra in the eye.

              “Cee… Birdie… that’s ok too.”

              Cee’s head shot up and she stared at him in disbelief. “How can you say that?!” she demanded. “Everyone has always said… Dad, and the boys who’ve… and even girls… I…”

              “And when have you ever heard me talk similar to other people?” Ezra asked sharply. “If anyone has ever said anything disparaging to you about your sexuality, you list me out their names and I’ll address that at a later time, but for now I want you to listen to me and listen only to me:

              “You are not broken.”

              Ezra’s deep brown eyes stared intently at her, his gaze practically reaching into her soul. Unbidden, tears sprung to life and started to trickle down her cheeks, but she felt frozen in place as he continued to speak.

              “It is a wide universe out there Cee, consisting of people who are attracted to opposite sexes, or their own, or to both, or all, or… even like yourself… none. There are people who enter into romantic entanglements freely and others who only understand platonic love. Each and every one of those people are valid, Birdie. So do not allow the words from a drug-addled disvarlali* or teenagers too young to understand life color your impressions of your own self,” Ezra commanded heatedly.

              Cee gazed at him for several moments, sniffling, and feeling for the first time, a spark of hope spring to life deep inside her chest. Ezra had never lied to her. Sometimes he used enough words that confused her, intentionally or not, but he had never lied.

              “… it’s… it’s ok? You’re not… disgusted… by me?” Cee asked, wiping at her eyes.

              Ezra sucked in a breath, his expression turning stricken. “Child, I swear on anything or anyone you consider holy that I could never be disgusted anything you do, or more importantly, anything that is intrinsic to you.”

              Cee sobbed and buried her face in her hands, her entire body shaking both from her weeping and the impact of the pod slipping into the freighter’s cradle. Absently, she heard the flick of switches and several soft beeps as Ezra presumably locked in their vehicle. She cried harder, because that was her job and she was slacking in her duties, but she felt like her heart was both breaking and knitting itself back together and she just… couldn’t…

              “C’mere, little sister…”

              Ezra’s nimble fingers slipped between her hip and the armrest of her seat, unbuckling first one strap and then the second of her harness. Before he had even finished slipping it over her head, she was standing and throwing herself at him, clutching the sides of his shirt and wrinkling the cloth between her fingers.

              “I’m sorry!” Cee cried, burying her face into his chest.

              “Nothing for you to be sorry about,” Ezra murmured into her hair. He tucked her head under his chin and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. “Although I must apologize for urging you to go out and meet others. I only thought for you to find enrichment; not to become more miserable.”

              Cee shook her head and burrowed closer, her tears finally starting to slow. “No… no, it’s… I want friends. I want friends like in the Streamer Girl. But everyone else seems to want…”

              “Hormones are a bitch,” Ezra said bluntly, and Cee gave a watery laugh before resting more fully against her partner’s sturdy frame.

              “You’ll find them, Cee. You’ll find those friends you’re searching for.”

              Sometimes… sometimes Cee thought she already had. It’s times like this when Ezra shelters her against him and reassures her that she is so poignantly reminded of Clo and Reive’s relationship in The Streamer Girl.

              They are different from one another in so many ways, but yet they live together and fight for each other’s life and happiness. Ezra has proven over and over again how much he cares for her; not even her own father had ever seemed to value her like Ezra does.

              Maybe he’s all that she needs, at least for now.

~ End

*I totally made up a word that basically translates into ‘fucking asshole of a father’... Because I could imagine Damion reacting very inconsiderately to Cee coming to him saying she didn’t want to have sex. 

[luesilust]

What is something embarrassingly vanilla that each of the trash quartet are into? (The truest dirt is in the bland crap you're into when you're a trashy boi, am I right?) ☆

Hahaha what an interesting first ask from a “totally anonymous” anon… ✨ Anyway, I actually really liked this question, but holy hell did it fuck with my brain. I’m used to coming up with all the kinky and/or messed up scenarios and suddenly I’m supposed to do the opposite? My brain is confused. The second problem I encountered was: What is actually vanilla? My brain did not help me on this quest either, as every time I got close to thinking up something clever, my brain goes “SPIT IN THEIR MOUTH!” or something along those lines.

PARISTON

Among the trash quartet Pariston is the one I found the hardest to write this ask for. Mostly because Pariston is an enigma. First of all it’s impossible to know exactly what he does and doesn’t enjoy because everything he does is controlled and calculated. I can see him being into one thing with one partner and something completely different with another. His preferences always switch around.

Sometimes the sex can be very vanilla and tender, usually after he’s been partiularly cruel to you. It’s a way to get you to stay with him despite the abuse.

Pariston’s relation to pleasure is also an interesting aspect. I think that for Pariston sex isn’t the goal that drives his actions, but rather a means to get the reactions he wants from you. This means that if he thinks that a gentle “love making” session is what’s going to make his “game” with you more fun later on, you’re going to get the best vanilla sex in our whole life!

I did, however, think of a few of vanilla things Pariston would absolutely loathe in most circumstances! The number one thing being his partner whispering “I love you” lovingly into his ear, while he’s trying to make you hate him.

ILLUMI

First of all, I think very little will make Illumi embarrassed. That being said there are quite a few things he should be embarrassed about. He’s very motivated to continue the Zoldyck line, so sex would often be more focused on the result than what it feels like there and then. So unless he’s using sex as a way to manipulate or reward you, it would get quite mundane... And isn’t that like the most vanilla thing ever?

Another thing he should be embarrassed for is that he usually doesn’t make you cum very often. He almost never touches your clit, so in the beginning you wonder if he doesn’t know where it is, or that he’s one of those who think women's sexuality is a myth. That however, is not the case, because Illumi probably has extensive training on how to pleasure or sexually torture someone because of his assasin training. The reason for his behaviour is that he usually doesn’t prioritize using his precious time to give you pleasure. It doesn’t make it more likely that you’ll get pregnant, so why waste the time. Orgasms are a reward, not a necessity for his wife.  

If you want to break out of the mundane sex, try to gently kiss his neck. It’s a really sensitive area for him that he associates mainly with killing. Gentle touches are new to Illumi, since his skin is used to getting cut, beaten and abused. The first time you dared ttrying to kiss his neck his body froze in the middle of one of your sessions. The kiss had made his body tingle in a very unfamiliar way. As he didn’t stop you, you continued, and following that was the first time you experienced the more gentle side of your husband. His focus was no longer on just being efficient, but rather on experiencing more of that new tingling sensation of your soft lips against his neck. His hips slowed down into a calmer and more sensual pace than the way his dick had thrust into you in an almost methodical way. As a reward he even brought one of his adept hands down to your clit to make you cum at the same time he did.

I don’t think he’d be embarrassed about liking getting his neck kissed, but I think it will puzzle him at first how much he enjoys it. Not only neck kissing, but touching him softly and stroking his back during sex or foreplay will make it more likely that he’ll feel motived to make the sex into less of a chore.

Outside of sex I think he really likes to get his hair brushed and generally taken care of by his wife. Be careful to be gentle though, as he doesn’t like you pulling his hair, and even doing so by accident will lead to some kind of punishment

.   

HISOKA

Hisoka is another one of the trash men that doesn’t get embarrassed by anything. While Illumi can get puzzled by his enjoyment of some things, Hisoka is down right shameless. Nothing, and I repeat nothing, will make this man feel shameful.

Hisoka also has an unique talent of making any vanilla activity into something straight out of a porn movie. The reason being that his entire body is somewhat of an erogenous zone and that he’s, well, Hisoka, so the moaning will be extreme. Gently lick his neck and he’ll be like: *insert Hisoka’s crazy moaning here*

That being said, I can imagine him as being quite adaptive when it comes to his partner’s sexual preferences. If you’re kinky, he’s all for it, but I can see him enjoying vanilla sex as well from time to time, if that’s what you prefer. I feel like he’s more about his partner’s reactions, rather than exactly what is making those reactions happen. It would of course be situation based, as he sometimes would feel the need to be rough when he’s feeling pent up.

The most vanilla thing I can imagine, that even Hisoka can’t make kinky, is cuddling in bed while watching random reality TV. Hisoka actually enjoys cuddling a lot, so spending all day in bed lazily making out and occasionally having sex is something he’d enjoy. The sex would be soft, either missionary or some kind of spooning position combined with lots of kissing and groping. This could only take place after you’ve somehow managed to deplete his energy a bit, because if he’s feeling pent up or have some kind of project on his mind, he will not have time to spend all day in bed with you.  

Lastly, he’d also enjoy massages and he will, for sure, always expect a “happy finish”.

CHROLLO

Despite being someone who mostly keeps people at a distance, Chrollo sometimes really enjoys sex where he’s embracing you. His favourite position being spooning you from behind, but sometimes plain old missionary will be his pick.

You were quite surprised the first time it happened. Chrollo has such a domineering personality and he’d usually demand complete obedience from you both in and outside the bedroom. It does however happen that you see a different side of him. It would happen late at night after you’ve both gone to bed. I see Chrollo as being a very lightl sleeper because of his upbringing in Meteor City. Said childhood has led to him having trouble relaxing when trying to fall asleep, so maybe the sex makes it easier for him to calm down. He’d hold your sleepy form close to his chest as he finishes inside you, falling asleep with you in his arms (inconsiderate bastard doesn’t think about the fact that you’ll need to get out of bed and clean yourself up after, unless you want cum seeping out of you all night).

Even if he won’t admit to it, it's really obvious that he really enjoys having his ears kissed and caressed. Chrollo is a very perceptive individual so his ears are very sensitive to any type of foreign touch. It’s probably also nice to give his lobes to get a little break from all the abuse from those ginormous earrings he’s wearing...

Chrollo is a also a man of deception and if he needs to play the role of a loving boyfriend to someone other than you to get what he wants, he’ll have no problem doing so. He’ll kiss his target lovingly and have the softest of vanilla sex. He says to himself that it’s all an act, but sometimes I think he’d find himself really enjoying the closeness and intimacy, since he usually puts himself above you when engaging in sexual acts. He’ll tell himself that he’s only enjoying it because he’s too immersed in the scenario he’s playing out with his target. This man is in denial and he’ll keep his soft moments far, far away from the troupe.

TW: Crack

He also really loves to recite gothic love poems that he wrote himself to you during intercourse. He’d hold his poetry book in one hand while he thrusts slowly in and out of you tenderly. It all ends in a crescendo as he reads out the last line as he cums, a single manly tear running down his cheek. (Sorry, I had to join the Drag Chrollo Gang haha).

[shinidamachu]

Ours

Summary: The stakes are high. The water's rough. But this love is ours. Word Count: 10.816 Genre: Fluff? Angst? Who’s to say? Certainly not me, the author. Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“Sota, put this thing away. I won’t ask you again.”

“Fine!” The teenager let out in exasperation, putting the phone back into the confinement of his pocket.

His grandpa was making him lose his mind. In the interlude of fifteen minutes, the old man had managed to rant about how kids these days always had their faces stuffed into some kind of screen twice.

The bit about damaging the sight and going blind by the age of thirty-five because of it? A lecture all of its own.

“In my time,” he began, making Sota fight the urgency to groan, “we treated the elderly with respect and behaved at the table. It’s a sacred moment!”

“We’re not even eating, anyway! Kagome and her stupid boyfriend are late.”

“Sota! Manners!” Intervened his mom. “We don’t want InuYasha to think Kagome’s family is made up of inconsiderate barbarians, do we?”

Sota rolled his eyes, but remained silent. It was gonna be a long night.

There they were, in Earth’s lamest restaurant, waiting for his sister to arrive with her new boyfriend, who, going with the odds, was probably a goody-two-shoes nerd, just like that Hojo guy.

There was no one his age within the radius of a mile.

He was starving.

And to top it all off, bored to death.

It wasn’t like Sota didn’t love his family. He really did. Besides, seeing Kagome again was something he was looking forward to. Since she had moved out for medical school, they hadn’t spent much time together and although the boy would never admit it, he had quite missed their daily bickering.

He just wished they could met at home, in company of his TV and video games, where he could actually avoid his grandpa’s constant scolding in the holy peace of his bedroom.

“Look! Look, look, look, look, look.” As if on cue, the man in question elbowed Sota’s arm, coaxing him to eye the restaurant entrance. He silently snorted, wondering why his grandpa felt the annoying need to repeat the same word grumpier and more demanding each time. Didn’t he know Sota could hear him just fine from the first one? Nevertheless, wanting to get it over with, the boy did as he was told. A silver haired gentleman stayed awkwardly in the middle of the entryway, his attention torned between the salon and the outside. Even from afar, his demonic heritage stood out, but the dog ears crowning his head wasn’t the only remarkable feature he carried. “See his arms? What a disgrace, to dishonor his own body like that. I pray you, my boy, that you never inflict such disappointment on your old grandfather. I couldn’t bear the pain of seeing my only grandson grow into mafia scum.”

Sota didn’t respond the overdramatic affirmation. He was wonderstruck.

In spite of the anxiety the guy irradiated, he still looked pretty cool, dressed on dark jeans and an elegant white shirt. He had his sleeves rolled up to the biceps, displaying an impressive amount of tattoos. They covered all of the skin, from his wrists to his forearms, possibly ending at the shoulders. It was hard to make out the different shapes, given the distance, but every single one was drawn in black ink.

“Stop staring, you two.” Sang his mom. And Sota was about to obey.

But then, in entered his sister.

Kagome clung to the tattooed, supposedly criminal man, causing him to relax on the spot as her gaze scanned the room.

When the girl finally found them, her face lighted up in an excited smile. She said what, reading her lips, Sota interpreted as ‘there they are’ before taking him by the hand and heading right to their suddenly silent table.

It seemed that the night wouldn’t pass by without its share of emotions, after all.

“InuYasha,are you ready? I don’t want to be late!”

The hanyou sighed in front of the mirror. Did she mean finished with dressing up ready or psychologically ready? It didn’t matter. The answer was no for both.

InuYasha had tried on almost every clothe he had. It served him right for letting piles and more piles of worn-out band t-shirts compose his wardrobe.

His mother had a point. He could definitely use a little makeover.

Every piece felt either too ordinary or too odd, so InuYasha gave up and went back to the button-down shirt he had put first — one of the few decent things he had to wear.

Now closed in their bathroom, determined to pay his mother’s atelier a visit as soon as possible and obsessively aligning the outfit, he couldn’t help but think the reflection staring back didn’t look like him at all.

“Actually, can we reschedule?”

“No way!” Squeaked his girlfriend, her steps louder and louder in her approach. “We’ve been postponing this for too long. Okay, I’m coming in!” She announced, opening the door at once.

“Whatever happened to privacy?”

“It moved out when I moved in.” His girlfriend threw him her best heart stopping smirk and walked in his direction. “Don’t you look gorgeous?”

“Keh. You always say that.” And he had yet to hear it without blushing.

“It’s always true.” Kagome wrapped her arms around his neck. With the extra inches the heels provided, she was nearly his height and her rose lips hovered temptingly within the reach of his. “Won’t you get hot on this shirt, though? We’re in the middle of summer.”

“I’ll be fine!” InuYasha burst out before he could bite back his tongue. Kagome considered him attentively, her narrowed eyes growing wide in realization.

“You’re hiding the tattoos, aren’t you?”

InuYasha looked away.

“I want them to like me.”

It was a difficult enough task to achieve. Being a half breed, he was despised by demons and feared by humans — apparently his ears, fangs and claws, not to mention the unusual color of his eyes and hair, were a lot for them to take in. The absolute last thing InuYasha needed was for her family to think he was some sort of delinquent too. Which, of course, they would.

He figured, since people would be afraid of him either way, he might as well took it to his advantage and do whatever he wanted, consequences be damned. As a result, whoever wasn’t scared of his demon blood sure pissed their pants at the sight of his tattoos, taking him for a criminal. InuYasha couldn’t care less. There was a good amount of fights against human opponents he won that way.

But that was before her.

Not caring is easier when you have nothing to lose.

InuYasha didn’t doubt his actions would blow up on his face, eventually. It was all they ever did. But never, not even in a million years, he could have predicted Kagome. Now consequences were here to bite him in the ass.

Her folks had plenty to unpack the way it was. At least with the tattoos he could do something about.

“InuYasha…” Her slender fingers caressed his chin, demanding his focus entirely for herself. He complied. “You don’t have to do this. I want you to be yourself.” She grabbed his right arm and rolled the sleeve all the way up, revealing the intricate mosaic of figures, doodles and forms he collected along the last decade. “They are going to love you.”

“Easy for you to say, now that my family worships the ground you walk on.”

It had only taken a mild sunday lunch. By the end of it, Kagome had Mr. and Mrs. Taisho eating from the palm of her hand, just like she had their son. That was the day his mother had furtively handed him the engagement ring she inherited from her mother, claiming Kagome was the one he should give it to when the right moment comes. There was no falter from his part.

A month had passed, Kagome and his mom texted one another on a daily basis, and the damn thing still weighed deep inside his pocket. InuYasha carried it with him everywhere, waiting for the perfect occasion and concerned that she might find it if he left it lying around.

“Well, worship is such a strong word...” Said Kagome, doing with his left sleeve the same thing she did with the other, but this time allowing herself to trace the black marks of his arm, lingering on the newest, the little sakura flower InuYasha had gotten solely for her. He raised his eyebrows. “Okay, maybe your parents do it a little bit, but your brother hates my guts. You gotta give me that.”

“Nah, Sesshoumaru hates everyone. You ain’t special.”

“Huh… Thanks?”

InuYasha smiled at her adorable grimace, but it was short lived.

“What if they don’t? Like me, I mean.”

Both of them knew it was a real possibility.

If they were being honest, they hated each other at the beginning themselves. Most of it, undoubtful, due to repressed sexual attraction. Still, they were constantly jumping at each other’s throats before starting to jump at each other’s bones.

Attracting and repelling like magnets, they have been through a crazy amount of screaming, crying and slamming doors. Once it was clear that what they had was much more than sex, the need had risen to protect that love at all costs.

They had to.

Every odd was against them.

He was a half demon. Most people hated him at worse and tolerated at best — and that had a lot to do with his family’s money, Kagome being one of the uncommon exceptions. In fact, she was the exception to essentially every rule he had.

She was also a human. No, not only a human. That would be too easy. The girl was a priestess. Her family was responsible for a fucking shrine.

Their relationship was the epitome of taboo.

So they had kept it on the low for as long as they could, adopting a discreet profile even after she moved in with him. They didn’t want to risk it, didn’t want to jinx it. It wasn’t worth it.

Their love was theirs and theirs alone, too precious to fall into the cruel claws of the world.

It was a shame it couldn’t stay that way forever.

Sooner or later they would have to leave the safe heaven inside those walls and he was terrified of finding out whether or not they could take it.

Kagome’s kindness, her unprejudiced beliefs... They had to come from somewhere, and she affirmed it was from her family. How would her folks react, however, once those beliefs were put to the test? InuYasha learned from experience that, sometimes, people struggled to stick to their morals the second they stopped being convenient.

“Then it will be just another bump on the road. What’s one more?”

Her hands flew to undo his top button — and nothing more. Tensing involuntarily when her digits contacted the exposed skin, InuYasha let out a shaky breath as she retreated to explore his chest over the shirt, shamelessly going lower.

“Weren’t you the one in a hurry just now?”

“I am.” She defied.

“I’m not.”

InuYasha placed his hands on her waist and pressed her against the nearest wall. He couldn’t help it, not after the things she said. Especially when she said them with that dress on — light blue, contrasting with the darkness of her hair, the skirt hugging her waistline, widening at the bottom. No sleeves. Only provocative, unbelievably thin straps. So different from her everyday white clothes.

It was his favorite and he had no doubt it was intentional.

“InuYasha…”

Her mouth was off limits. InuYasha knew better than to mess up her makeup mere minutes away of such important event. Her neck, on the other hand…

“Don’t you look gorgeous?” He asked, nose burying on her skin.

“Uh, uh. D-don’t you sweet talk me.” Kagome tilted her head, giving him unrestrained access and grabbing a handful of his hair as he hooked her leg around him, fingers lifting her skirt up, venturing further and further.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She was limp in his embrace. InuYasha recognized by instinct when his body was the only thing preventing hers from melting to the ground.

“We… We’re doing this.”

“I know.” He eagerly kissed her collarbone, downing to the start of the cleavage. 

“It’s just a harmless dinner...” She was panting now, nails traveling through his back, applying sufficient pressure to make quite the damage had he been naked. InuYasha went up her throat, his tongue wandering free.

“Hmmm.”

“...And then… T-then we’ll go... to my childhood house.” Kagome paused and he knew it was to hold back a moan as he relentlessly kissed his way up to her chin and jawline, finding destination at her earlobe. “You’ll get…” He bit it. “... T-to see my old bedroom,” bargained her. InuYasha smirked.

“I’m listening,” he whispered, returning to her neck. InuYasha had every intention to suck on the inviting flesh until it left a mark, but restrained himself. Something told him her family wouldn’t be fond of it.

His resolve not to claim her lips, though, were increasingly fading. Whatever. Better beg for her taste now and for her forgiveness later.

Reading his thoughts — as she often did —, Kagome gently pushed him away. Good. Their proximity, allied with the escalating scent of her arousal, wasn’t making them any favors in the ‘getting out of the house’ department.

“Come on,” she tapped his hand, subtly pleading for him to release her leg, a lead that InuYasha followed with extreme reluctance. He observed as his girlfriend regained composure. The fingers that not long ago were mapping, grasping and scratching every inch of him now fixed the dress strap he had no memory of pulling down. To a newcomer, it would look as if nothing had ever happened. “We’ll have a wonderful time.”

“To be fair, I was having a wonderful time just now.”

“Oh, I can tell you were. That’s exactly why we better get going.”

“Fine.” InuYasha sighed, letting himself be dragged out of their bathroom as she giggled at his less than thrilled disposition.

And there was something about her laughter — so vibrant and carefree — that, combined with the welcome comfort of her hand on his, made InuYasha feel invincible. Having Kagome by his side was like entering the boxe ring already ten points ahead.

“Do you want to go through the basics again?”

Crossing the living room, InuYasha recited his mental notes without missing a beat, the perfect picture of an A+ student, even if for the most part of his life, he had been a solid C+.

“Don’t swear. Don’t bring up your father. Don’t mention we live together.”

“Good! Unless...” Kagome stopped and turned to him. Half hesitant, half hopeful. “Do you think I should tell mom I moved here?”

InuYasha was conflicted. It was only fair that she did. His parents had heard the news the day she brought all of her stuff in. And in spite of knowing he’d give her the world if she so wished, Kagome never asked for much.

Yet, he was scared. Scared that Mrs. Higurashi disapproved the arrangement. Scared she would tell her daughter to leave.

What, then?

He had forgotten how his apartment — their apartment — used to be before the bright colors and pout-porris. Before the plants, the second toothbrush on the sink, the pictures frames and the intoxicating scent her body left all over the sheets.

And he didn’t want to remember.

According to Kagome, however, her mother was an understanding, open-minded woman, who put her children’s happiness above everything else. Which certainly  worked in his favor, since InuYasha had turned making Kagome happy into his daily mission and, modesty aside, he believed to be doing a pretty damn good job so far.

InuYasha starred at their fingers, still interlocked, and reminded to be brave.

“If you feel like you should...”

“I do! I honestly do. We used to tell every little thing to each other. I miss that.”

“Then go ahead.”

“Really?” She thanked him with a tight hug, her palpable excitement coming off her in a giant wave that almost washed all of his doubts away. Almost. 

“What about the others?”

“Sota is a child, it’s not of his business.”

“And your grandfather?”

Kagome moved within his embrace, revealing pursed lips when she did.

“Yeah... He’ll definitely need more time. Let’s give it three to five years!”

A surprised laugh left his lips when he saw the truth behind the joke.

“You’re freaking out about telling him, aren’t you?”

“Am not!”

“You totally are!” He said, deflecting from the fact that he, too, was panicking and that waiting five years or more to have that talk was actually a very appealing idea.

“It’s just… He can be a tad traditional sometimes.”

“Awesome!” InuYasha said, with every drop of sarcasm he could gather. “We both know I’m all about traditions.”

Smiling, she reached for his hand again.

“Shall we?”

They call it ripple effect. It’s the situation in which one event produces a certain impact, inevitably spreading and producing further consequences. The concept usually comes with the classic example of throwing a rock in a steady pond, which InuYasha thought fitting. Whenever the half demon first stepped into a crowd of strangers, he pretty much felt like that rock.

Heads would turn straight to him in cascade. Surprise. Terror. Disgust. Condescension. Pity. As years went by, he had gotten it all.

Be as it may, soon enough the staring would abruptly get directed anywhere else and be replaced with whispers they didn’t know he could hear. Eventually, the waters would settle, but after the initial contact, the pond could never go back to the way it was. Neither could the rock.

His father had taught him to keep his chin up no matter what. The hatred of lesser men was an irrelevant price to pay for being unique. He should be proud of who he is. His mother had told him not to seek validation from others when he already had people who loved and cared for him unconditionally. Those were the guidances InuYasha religiously lived by. Still, sometimes, the hanyou wished he was allowed to just be. 

That night was surely the case.

The restaurant was crowded. It should be, in such a busy hour. The habitual glaring didn’t go unnoticed by InuYasha when he walked in — it bore holes on his flesh and broke into his bones. As usual, he brushed it off.

His focus oscillated like the flames inside the ornamental lanterns that provided warmth to the place in shades of red, orange and yellow.

Before him, undistinguished buzz raised above the background music and the pervasive smell of food served as a cruel reminder that he hadn’t put anything in his stomach since lunch. The lights, the sounds, the people, the scents. It was an overwhelming sensation to contemplate it all. In another day, in a calmer state of mind, he would have spotted her family in a heartbeat. Kagome, the loving daughter she was, had shown him enough pictures of them for the task to be a child’s play. Still, he didn’t dare to look. Not yet. Not when he was so unsure of what he might find written all over their faces. The same phrases on different pages.

Behind him, a delighted Kagome chatted in the staircase with the woman she had introduced as her middle school history professor. InuYasha had promptly forgotten her name. In no mood for engaging the conversation and wanting to save all of his small talk for dinner, he had politely excused himself, opting for walking ahead while the two of them reminisced.

Obviously, he had underestimated her communication skills, because a considerable amount of time had passed until Kagome caught up to him. Her arm tangled up with his quite easily. All at once, everything was gone, reduced to the speck of dust they were. There was only Kagome, searching the room in concentration. And there was only him, dazed by the smile that accommodated so well on her face, by the colors dancing on her cheeks and lights glittering on her eyes.

“There they are!” Kagome announced, breaking the spell.

His throat went completely dry. On his brain, sirens ran off, telling him to run for his life. How disappointed would she get if he grabbed her and fled? InuYasha also wondered, in vain, what the opponents he had faced would think, if they discovered what a coward the man who had ruthlessly knocked them out truly was. Kagome guided him towards the table where her family awaited, dispelling the intrusive thoughts away.

“Sorry we’re late!” She sat down and so did InuYasha, taking the free spot by her side. “We got caught up in traffic.”

“That’s alright, honey.” Mrs. Higurashi reassured with a tone as sweet as her smile. “I’m just glad you’re here now. We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. So much!” She replied, drinking each component of her family in, as if to carve their features into her memory so she might have something to hold onto until they met again. After a brief pause, Kagome kicked off the introductions. “Everyone, this is InuYasha. InuYasha, this is my family.”

Her grandfather was a perfect materialization of the pictures InuYasha had seen, with his wrinkled skin, grey hair and stoic expression. Her mother, too, matched up his expectations. The woman portrayed an effortless type of beauty, all dimples and heart-shaped face framed by wavy, short brown hair.

It was Sota who surprised him the most.

From Kagome’s descriptions, InuYasha was under the impression the boy would be way smaller than he actually was — although he was small, considering he was still a child. The half demon couldn’t decide if Kagome was oblivious to Sota’s growth due to her crazy student schedule or if it was her big sister bias that affected her judgement, but it was clear that Sota was gonna be taller than her in the near future. The boy also looked very clever for his age — even to someone in InuYasha’s case, who knew little to nothing about kids — and stared at him with something suspiciously close to expectancy.

InuYasha cleared his throat.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“The reciprocal is hardly true.” Whipped a dissonant baritone, so rigid it cut the air. “I haven’t heard much of you, that’s for sure and certain.”

There was no naivety left on InuYasha to believe the lack of reciprocity the man mentioned had anything to do with whether Kagome had told them detailed stories about her new boyfriend or not.

Apparently, Mrs. Higurashi had picked up on how shallow his last sentence sounded as well, because she was quick to swoop in and smooth things over.

“You were, indeed, a mystery, InuYasha.”

“I told you why.” Intervened Kagome, in an apologizing tone. “We were still figuring things out.”

“Well, if you two are done with figuring things out, can we please eat?” Sota retorted. InuYasha had no complaints there. Unfortunately, the elderly man interrupted them with the unapologetic conviction of someone who wasn’t aware a conversation was being had, or that simply didn’t care.

“Are you a Yakuza member?”

It didn’t go unnoticed by the hanyou that the man had addressed him twice without calling his name once. Nonetheless, the question was absolutely directed to InuYasha. Even if the word ‘Yakuza’ wasn’t instantly associated with the tattoos he carried, there were other indications. The abrupt silence that followed, one step away from a cliff of awkwardness, for instance. Or the hawk eyes of Kagome’s grandfather, studying his every move.

Luckly, he had warned his girlfriend in advance something like that could happen. More often than not, it did. To the point where he was used to it. And as much as she didn’t like it, he resolved to brush it off, at least for the night.

“Because of the tattoos?” He asked, playing dumb. “I get that a lot, but no. I just think they’re cool.” InuYasha shrugged, then felt the uncontrollable need to over explain himself: “The tattoos, I mean. Not the mafia.”

That earned him a laugh from Sota and a chuckle from Mrs. Higurashi. Kagome and her grandfather didn’t find it so funny.

“Grandpa, tattoos are very common thing all around the world! Don’t you think if everyone who had one was a Yakuza member, we’d be in serious trouble by now?” InuYasha observed her spit the acid comeback, thrown off to see their parts inverted. Usually, he was the one starting fires left and right and she was the placid source of water that always put them down. Again, the man ignored it.

“Then what do you do for a living?”

InuYasha almost smirked. That was precisely the sort of cliche interrogatory he was expecting — no, that he was wishing. After walking on so many eggshells, they were finally entering known territory and, as he felt the firm path of a parents pleaser answer forming under his feet, his confidence boosted.

“I’m majoring in business administration. My father wants my brother and I to learn as much as we can, if we’re gonna run the family company someday.”

It was extremely satisfying to watch the guy trying and failing to come up with any judgemental thing to say. His mouth sealed into a thin line.

“But what InuYasha really wants is to be a boxer.”

His head snapped to Kagome, astonished that she would turn him in there and then. The girl was not kidding when she demanded him to be himself.

“No way!” Sota exclaimed the words in the precise way his sister did when she was excited.

“Isn’t this dangerous, dear?” Mrs. Higurashi was genuine concerned. Her cinnamon irises studied him carefully, as if already searching for wounds. It reminded him of his own mother.

“Actually, InuYasha is undefeated.” Kagome replied for him, not bothering to hide the pride tone in her voice. 

So it’s chill when you brag about it, but when I do, I’m a cocky jerk. He amused, simultaneously deciding it sounded better when she did, anyway.

“Awesome! How come I have never seen you fight on TV?”

At Sota’s crescent interest, InuYasha answered in a bursting of atypical modesty.

“I didn’t get there just yet.”

“I’m sure it’s a matter of time.” Encouraged Mrs. Higurashi. Kagome’s grandfather scoffed. “I must ask you, though: how did you two met?”

“My sister isn’t the most athletic of girls.” Agreed Sota.

“I can’t believe I missed you.” The girl fired back.

“That’s true. But I can tell you first hand that she’s got a mean right hook.”

Her brother was thrilled. Her mom, not so much.

“She punched you?”

“Oh, my.”

“No! I gave her a couple of self defense classes, that’s all.” InuYasha hurried to explain.

“Oh!” Mrs. Higurashi seemed visibly relieved her daughter didn’t walk around purposefully breaking the criminal code. “Well, in that case I really appreciate it. Thank you, dear.”

“So that’s how you met? Self defense classes?”

“Not quite.”

The self defense classes came way later, in what InuYasha labeled as the ‘denial’ phase.

It started on a random night. They were arguing over something stupid, for a change. Things escalated rather fast and, against his better judgement, they had angry sex on her couch. He hadn’t thought much of it back them, telling himself they were just blowing off steam, that it wouldn’t happen again.

Only it did.

Over and over.

It was useless to fight it. No way to escape it. After a while, InuYasha had stopped trying and accepted the fact that every road lead him back to her bed. What he couldn’t, wouldn’t, refused to acknowledge, however, was that somewhere along the way, an invisible line was crossed and, as animosity gave space to awkward cordiality and awkward cordiality gave space to unlikely fondness, Kagome became much more than a mind-blowing fuck, even if at first he was too stubborn to say so.

And so, InuYasha came up with socially acceptable excuses to spend more time with her without it coming off as a big deal, hence the self defense classes. They were perfect for them, once it was something he mastered and it involved lots of physical contact. Besides, the half demon slept better at night, knowing Kagome could throw a proper punch at anyone who got too handsy. It wasn’t part of the ordinary self defense program, but then again, she was no ordinary girl. Although her spiritual powers assured no youkai would lay a finger on her, the priestess was on her own in terms of human threats. What InuYasha did was making sure that was enough.

They’ve been inseparable ever since.

“We’ve met through Miroku long before that.” Kagome clarified, conveniently leaving the petty behavior and childish arguments they had that first day out of it. “InuYasha is his roommate. Also, Sango has been friends with him since he was ten.”

“Oh!” The table nodded in understanding, working the math for themselves. It wasn’t a difficult calculation to make.

Miroku was a close friend of her family. Quite literally, given they were neighbors for as long as the bastard could remember. His family was spiritually gifted like no other and took to themselves the responsibility to help little Kagome Higurashi to improve her abilities to the fullest. As a result, they grew up together. People often confused them for siblings and at heart, they were.

InuYasha met the nuisance of a friend several years later, when both of them entered college. Graduation certainly wasn’t his biggest goal in life. Far from it. It was more like a boring thing he had to do in order to conquer his deserved space in the real world. Regardless, the half demon was eager to enjoy his first shot at independency.

He found a great place right outside campus, but the extent of time he could afford it without resorting to his folk’s pockets was limited. Doing all of the domestic chores by himself wasn’t appealing, either. He needed a roommate.

A river of candidates flooded his inbox — it was truly a fantastic deal — Miroku stood out for being the only human to reply to his advertisement. Curious, InuYasha booked an interview. The man was clearly a womanizer, appreciated a good booze and was the farthest thing from what he claimed his family to be. Or from what InuYasha looked for in a friend.

And yet, to his total bewilderment, they hit it off right away.

How was he supposed to know Miroku would fall for Sango?

His best friend Sango. 

The same Sango who helped him to train under the correct and outraging pretext that she had always been faster, that his defense was pathetic and that she would hate to see him get his ass kicked.

Gorgeous, confident, heart of gold Sango…

Yes, standing back from it now, InuYasha was a fool for not seeing it coming, since that was the obvious part.

The not so obvious one was that the two lovebirds would engage into a very loving, very serious relationship and that when Sango’s turn came to move out for college, Miroku would suggest an old friend to fill the vacant roommate position in her new apartment. A freshman as well, named Kagome.

And so InuYasha’s undoing began.

An unplanned dinner with mutual friends was hardly the most remarkable way to meet someone, but whenever InuYasha thought about the exquisite series of coincidences, about all of the incidents bound to happen in order to put them face to face in that distant autumn night… Well, he couldn’t shake the feeling it was meant to be, even if he had never had much faith in destiny, soulmates or any of that corny crap, there was no denying that suddenly every love song started making sense.

Flash forward and Miroku switched places with Kagome to better attend the living situation for the four of them. And that was that.

“What a… Delightful turn of events.” The venomous remark of the Higurashi patriarch brought the hanyou back to the present. This polite facade was what bothered him the most and InuYasha wanted the man, just for once, to say what he actually meant to say.

“Isn’t it?” Said Kagome, her enthusiasm palpable. If the girl had noticed the sarcasm hidden in that comment — and InuYasha was willing to bet so —, she made a point to disdain it, landing one hand on his knee, a discreet act of support.

Her grandfather clenched his jaw.

“InuYasha, you mentioned your family owns a company.” Mrs. Higurashi changed the subject unapologetically. “Any chances we have heard of it?”

He clung to the distraction like it was a life jacket.

“Probably, yeah! Taisho Inc.?”

“As in Toga Taisho?” Sota asked, his chin dropping. “Toga Taisho is your dad?” 

“And Izayoi is his mom.” Kagome added, fixing a knowing gaze on her own mother, whose bewilderment now mirrored her son’s.

“The Izayoi?”

“The one and only.” The hanyou nodded, accustomed to the heated reactions his distinguished bloodline got him. For better or for worse.

“Oh, her brand is fantastic! I read somewhere every clothing collection is environment friendly. And they’re so affordable, too!”

“Mom, you’re jabbering.” Interjected Sota.

“Sorry.” She said. More to be polite than anything else. “I’m a huge fan of her work!”

“So I’ve been told.” InuYasha glanced at Kagome, who stared at him right back. It was all it took, and he would be able to draw a meticulous picture of what she was thinking: both their mothers, chatting and enjoying a cold cup of tea under the setting sun like long date friends. Knowing his mom — and now Mrs. Higurashi — that was quite a possible scene.

“I’m sure the two of you will meet at some point.” Proclaimed Kagome. “Anyway… You won’t believe who InuYasha and I bumped into when we arrived—”

“Miss Kaede.” Sota and Mrs. Higurashi simultaneously answered, and at Kagome’s questioning expression, the boy shrugged. “She saw when we got here and came to say hi.”

They ordered minutes after.

The meal was hot and tasty, one of the best InuYasha had ever had. It helped that having dinner with her family, as it turned out, had been an overall pleasant experience. Light. Breezy. Sota and Mrs Higurashi did a wonderful job at keeping him comfortable. InuYasha would go as far as saying they had liked him, and for that he was insanely grateful.

Kagome’s grandfather, however, was a whole other story. The guy despised him and didn’t lift a finger to cover it, but he had spent the rest of the night relatively quiet about it, so InuYasha labeled it as progress.

He had offered them a ride home and they had accepted, just like Kagome said they would. It was funny, the speed in which he grew accustomed to their dynamics. Kagome and her brother mindless bickering, their mother pretending exasperation while secretly pleased, the drive filled with childhood tales and life updates, a innocent joke every now and then. It was decidedly something InuYasha could be a part of.

Their property was a rustic piece of land inserted between one urban construction and the next, refusing to be touched by modern convenience. Kagome’s enchantment for the place was justified. Growing up in there couldn’t have been anything less than magical.

“It’s not much,” Mrs. Higurashi apologized, “but it’s home.” She opened the door and turned on the light.

The house seemed bigger on the inside. Not fancy big. Cozy big. On every wall, past and future merged themselves in harmony. The decoration, simple and of good taste, spoke anecdotes of the merry family living there.

As they entered the living room, a movement alarmed his senses, and in a quick motion InuYasha dove in just in time to grab the falling ornamental vase before it hit the ground. The responsible for the almost disaster meowed and jumped off the glass shelf, making a point of stepping on InuYasha with indifference to then greet the others.

“You must be Buyo.”

“Nice catch!” Congratulated Sota.

“Oh, my! Thank you, InuYasha. This vase is very dear to me.” He handed her the adornment, which was immediately restored the its rightful spot. “Kagome, why don’t you show your boyfriend around?”

Obediently, her daughter let go of the purring cat and played the role of guide, giving him a comprehensive tour through her former home. Truth to her word, she saved the best for last.

“Before we get in, I want you to remember I was young and didn’t know any better.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He established, gesturing for her to rush and turn the knob.

Her bedroom was a gleeful explosion of pink and purple. From the roof to the floor, most of the surfaces were bathed in different shades of the combination. Sheets. Teddy bears. Carpet. Alarm clock. Curtains. Posters that could now pass for vintage. InuYasha was impressed. Despite all reason, the aesthetic actually worked.

He barked a laugh.

“What did you have against the other colors?”

“Shut up, I was five!”

InuYasha ignored her in favor of snooping around. Objects that dared not to stick with the pink or purple agenda were inevitably highlighted by it. He went after those first.

“So many CDs!” InuYasha contemplated, inspecting her collection attentively. Music was a passion they shared. Even though she was a pop kind of girl and he fell more into the rock line, they had been able to find common ground, eventually. Like Rihanna. Or The Beatles. “Are you kidding me?”

Kagome acknowledged his raised brows and the copy of a NSYNC album he was holding with a giggle.

“I stand by it.”

Books also filled the room. For starts, there was the Biology ones, piled up on her writing desk in a greater amount than what could be considered healthy — and more worn out than the math editions. On the main bookcase, he ran his claws through the good stuff. Jane Austen. J.K. Rowling. Stephen King. He wasn’t much of a reader, himself. His relationship with literature came down to the bedtime stories her mom lulled him to sleep with and A Song of Ice and Fire, which Kagome was currently reading because of him, albeit they had binged Game Of Thrones together.

Among her personal, reduced library, there was one book that gave the impression not to belong. It was larger, made of aged, tawny leather and no inscription was printed on the spine. Curious, InuYasha pulled it out, discovering the item to be a photo album. He pointed to its cover. 

“Can I?”

“Knock yourself out.”

She paid no attention to him as he sat on her bed and cautiously flipped through the pages, too lost in her own nostalgia.

The compilation began at a hospital room. A younger Mrs. Higurashi exhibited a teary smile to the chubby newborn nestled against her chest, the arms of an equally jubilant man involved them in a hug. Mr. Higurashi had elongated traits that narrowed his chin and pronounced nose in a gentle manner, like time had purposefully left his boyish attributes untouched. He resembled Sota. In everything except his wavy, dark hair. InuYasha grinned. Kagome had her father’s hair.

The photograph below showed three pair of legs, lazily lying on white sheets. A woman, a man and between them a baby, the size difference contributing to make the latter even cuter. Next to that, a picture of baby Kagome old enough to sit up, dressing onesie pajamas and chewing on a pacifier. Her grandfather appeared every now and then, feeding her porridge, kissing her tiny palm, exasperated at the paint mess she had done on the hall.

InuYasha watched her grow up the deeper he advanced. From crawling to standing behind Mrs. Higurashi, wrapping her little arms around the long skirt of her mother as she did the dishes. From that, to climbing onto a chair to help her father with the baking, covered in flour in front of the kitchen table while he proudly cleaned her up. Picnics. Beach trips. Birthdays. Every milestone was documented. After her first day at school — a big red ribbon on her hair —, new characters came to scene. Miroku, by her side on the backyard, one of his teeth missing and autumn leaves sticking to the two of them everywhere, twin wide smiles on their lips. Buyo, only a kitten napping on her lap as they sat on a tyre swing. She was wearing a beautiful dress and sneakers, her feet inches away from the ground.

There was a significant passage of time when InuYasha turned to another page. He knew it because, abruptly, Sota was there too, even though Mrs. Higurashi had been pregnant just a few images ago. The subtitle read Kagome, giving her baby brother a bath. In reality, she had used shampoo to pin all of his hair up. Her growth was perceptible as well.

There were no pictures of Mr. Higurashi anymore.

Instead, Sota, Miroku and some other friends conquered a little more of space, as Kagome got closer and closer to become the woman InuYasha came to know. The final picture was of her high school gang. Ayumi, Eri, Yuka.

And Hojo.

She had dated him back then and they were friends to this day. Naturally. Because Kagome was fundamentally a good person. And the fucker was unabashedly still into her.

The worst thing was, he couldn’t even bring himself to resent the guy. As a matter of fact, the hanyou pitied him. If InuYasha was in his shoes, he doubt he could ever move on from Kagome. Be that as it may, he much would have preferred they had held a grudge, blocked each other on social media and called it quits. Like normal people did.

Kagome was staring out the window by the time InuYasha shut the album and returned it to its shelf. He let his face fall into the curve of her shoulder — a flawless fit — in the process of embracing her waist. She leaned her head to him, her fingertips caressing his forearms.

Out of respect, they had left the door open, but it was just for show. His keen senses ensured they could get away with innocent displays of affection without having to worry about unexpected interruptions.

“What are we lookin’ at?”

“The Goshinboku.” The view of her bedroom was composed by a stunning garden, a mighty tree standing tall in the center of it. “When I was a little girl, there was a tyre swing attached to it. My dad built it for me. And grandpa almost had a heart attack because the tree is supposed to be sacred.”

The fresh memory came rushing back, of a lovely girl, her sleeping cat and a tyre swing.

“He sounds like a good man.” InuYasha let it out, mentally kicking himself at the same time. Don’t bring up her father, remembered his inner voice, a second too late. Damn it, he thought, I was doing so well. But they were alone. And Kagome was the one to raise the subject.

“The best.” She agreed, the longing painfully distinguishable in her timbre. “The colors are his fault, actually. He let me pick them and insisted I’d help him painting, saying it was my room and therefore I should be an active part of its making in order to truly look my own. I felt like such a grown up, with that brush in my hand! It wasn’t until years later I realized he had done most of the heavy work, of course. My enthusiasm about the colors decreased with time, I gotta admit. But I never wanted to change it, because whenever I see them, I’m taken back to that day.”

InuYasha was at a loss for words.

In one night, Kagome had shared more about her father than she had in their entire relationship, the topic always a delicate one.

To measure her pain, he tried to imagine what would be like. His life without Toga Taisho in every step of the way, with his goofy jokes and thunderous laughter, teaching him how to shave, talking about girls, buying him his first pair of boxing gloves. Cheering him on. Most fathers wouldn’t be as supportive of his career choice. Especially when it meant stepping down from the family empire.

Unthinkable.

InuYasha couldn’t even began to understand.

Unexpectedly, he was assaulted by the crushing need to hug his old man.

“He’d be proud of ya. You know that, right?”

“I do.” Kagome sighed. She was at the verge of crying, he could tell. “I wish he had met you.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“So...” Kagome bravely pushed her sorrow underneath, recovering the cheerful temper that was so typical of her. “Did you find anything good in that photo album?”

“Oh, yeah!” InuYasha nodded, taking her unsaid ask for distraction for what it was. “Miroku won’t hear the end of it.” She laughed and he relaxed at the sound. “Come on, let’s go downstairs. Your grandfather is getting distraught.”

“How did you do that?” Sota watched the TV screen in awe as their characters fought. InuYasha had just released a powerful blow, inflecting several damage on his opponent.

“Left-Right-B-B.”

Sota pressed the combination and as soon as he did, his character recreated the attack, hitting InuYasha back full force. The kid learned fast.

“Sweet! You gotta teach me more of this stuff! Can I come over to your place sometime?”

“Sure!” He answered, in autopilot. Kagome quietly pinched him in the tigh and the half demon realized his mistake. Don’t mention we live together. What an idiot he was. InuYasha wouldn’t have to mention anything if her brother saw it with his own eyes. “I-I mean, if that’s cool with your mom. It ain’t a quick drive.”

“For real?!”

“Yeah, just… Text me first.”

“You got it!”

InuYasha shrugged apologetically to his frustrated girlfriend. It was the best he could do.

“Kagome?” Mrs. Higurashi swiftly called from the kitchen. “Can you help me with the desserts, please?”

“Coming!”

Involuntarily, his ears twitched to follow her trail of noises. Steps. Crockery getting handled. Whispers.

“Alright: your honest opinion. Go!”

“Oh, I think your opinion is the one that counts.”

“It’s the one that counts the most. It’s not the only one that counts.”

“In that case, I must say you make a lovely couple. InuYasha caused an excellent impression on me. The way he looks at you… Your father used to look at me just like that.”

“Mama!”

There was a pause.

Out of habit, InuYasha kept hitting the right buttons, but his interest was far away from the game.

“Now, what else are you wanting to tell me?”

“How did you know?”

“A mother always does. What is it?”

“InuYasha and I… We’re living together.”

“I had my suspicions.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Are you happy?”

“The happiest.”

“Well, then. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Thank you! I love you so much!”

“I love you too, honey. But it might be wise not to let your grandfather know for now.”

“I figured as much.”

“One more thing.”

“Shoot!”

“Are the two of you using protection?”

“Mom!”

“What? It’s a fair concern.”

InuYasha had darkened multiple shades of embarrassment, all of them red. Sota took advantage of his temporary stupefied state to deliver the final blast, settling their score.

“Yes!”

“I totally let you win.”

“You wish!”

The two women walked into the room, dessert glasses on their hands. Sota accepted the one his mother offered him while Kagome sat on her previous spot by InuYasha.

“This candy is a family recipe.” Mrs. Higurashi explained. “It’s also the reason why we didn’t order a dessert at the restaurant.”

InuYasha hadn’t complained. In terms of food, sugary snacks were hardly his favorites. He opened his mouth, planning to decline the treat in way that wasn’t too rude, but his girlfriend beat him to the punch and sticked a spoon full of the stuff inside his mouth. The flavor outburst on his tongue was unprecedented, caramel being the base of it. The kickoff was undeniably sweet, pursued by a salty ending that assured a refined balance.

“Holy f… ork.” Don’t swear. At least this time he managed to caught himself before the failure.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Said Mrs. Higurashi, as InuYasha grabbed his portion from Kagome’s grasp and ate the whole thing in eager spoonfuls.

“How come you never made me one of those?” He threw Kagome an accusatory glance.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think our relationship is that solid yet.”

InuYasha was formulating a sly remark when he heard her grandfather struggling to carry a heavy wood box.

“Sir, wanna some help?” He volunteered, already jumping to the rescue.

“I’m old, not invalid.”

“It wasn’t my intention to suges—”

“Grandpa, please don’t be dramatic.” Intervened Kagome. “We don’t want a broken hip, do we?”

Grudgingly, the elder turned his burden over to InuYasha, who followed him out into the storehouse. He was serenaded by the crickets and the constant instructions of the wrinkle bag, urging him to be careful.

“Where do you want this, sir?”

“There.” He pointed to the left corner of the room and InuYasha accomplished the task without breaking a sweat. Or a priceless relic. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” The temptation to spin on his heels and exit the building was tremendous. For Kagome, though, he had to make an effort. “I guess is safe to say you don’t like me or my tattoos very much. That’s alright, I get it. You just met me. But I promise you, sir, I would never, ever, do anything to hurt your granddaughter. I’m a hundred percent committed to Kagome. In fact…” InuYasha fished the ring off his back pocket and presented it to him. “I intend to propose to her in a near future. You don’t have to answer right now, just know it would mean a lot to her… To us, if you could give us your blessing.”

The man glared at the ring as if it was a viper ready to strike.

“I wasn’t aware this relationship of yours was that serious.”

“Well… It kinda is. I… I love her.”

InuYasha felt naked, so very naked, under the somber gaze of that man. However true his words were, he wasn’t the type to pour his heart out, let alone to someone he had met for less than the duration of a night. Vulnerability was something to be avoided. Let your guard open, you get knocked down. A lifetime of boxing will teach you that. Still, Kagome was worth way more than his stupid pride. 

“I see. In that case, you must end it at once.”

“What?”

“I held my peace because I was convinced, the moment my granddaughter introduced you as her boyfriend, that this was bound to break. Do not take it personally. I can’t possibly be the first one to point it out and chances are I won’t be the last. You are far from the man I imagined her future husband to be. Yet here you are, speaking of marriage. It is up to me, then, to open your eyes and remind you the implications of it.”

“The implications of it.” The hanyou half repeated, half questioned. The superior tone in which the man expressed himself was enerving and the fact InuYasha had no idea of where he was trying to get only worsened the tension.

“Your mother is human, is she not?” All of the pieces fell into place right then. He would rather they hadn’t.

“Yes, she is.”

“Then you better than anyone must know of the hardships she had to endure as a result of her lifestyle.” 

InuYasha was numb. Completely anesthetized. It was to be expected his stupor would soft the pain of the bad memories. It didn’t.

Romeo and Juliet got nothing on his parents. His mom had told him the story time and time again. They had met each other on a tropical storm. Her car died and of course he was there to help. She kept his coat. He kept her phone number on a piece of paper that accidentally was ruined by the rain. When their paths crossed again, he was a divorced father and she was engaged. They managed to get it right anyway. Timing was a comical thing. It never worked with rationality.

Both families were against it. Strongly against it. His mother was no longer welcomed in the house. They had burned to the ground any evidence she once belonged to that place. The only thing she took with her was the ring of her deceased mother that InuYasha now held inside his clenched fist. She wasn’t allowed in the Taisho mansion either, but it just meant his father wouldn’t set foot feet there as well.

There were grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins InuYasha didn’t have the chance to met. Because they didn’t want to. Other than from Sesshoumaru and his mom, that was it for him in the family section.

He used to resent it. When he caught a homesick Izayoi crying. When his father yelled at the management of some restaurant about their anti-human politics. When she was denied entrance because InuYasha was in her arms. When the family tree of the other kids in school was so much more complex than his. Fortunately, he came to terms with it. Family had little to do with blood.

“It wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t your father’s, either.” InuYasha heard him go on. “Regardless, this is the way things are. The way things have always been. And pretending otherwise is to believe in fairytales. You can not blame me for wishing a better fate upon Kagome.”

“Kagome is happy. I know she is!”

“For now. What would be of this so called happiness in the long run? Keep in mind Kagome is a priestess. What if this union causes her to lose her spiritual powers? Even if she doesn’t, a child born out of it would carry demon genes. It can not be avoided. It can affect their reiki greatly.”

“W-we haven’t talk—”

Kids. The subject was never discussed between them. It was not a secret Kagome wanted to have children. She should have children. Motherhood suited her. InuYasha, on the other hand, didn’t give the topic a lot of thought. He just accepted that, taking in consideration the lengths he was willing to go to make her happy, babies weren’t even that bad.

Now, his treacherous brain was plaguing him with the forbidden images. Another aged, tawny leather photo album, theirs to fulfill with pictures of a raven haired, golden eyed toddler. Kagome, pregnant with his child. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all.

“Listen close, boy. I take no pride in that, but when cancer took my son away… It tore this home apart. Kagome? She was the one to put it back together. It was an unfair burden, for someone so young to take. And it meant countless sacrifices from her part. My granddaughter had to grow up too fast too soon. She deserves the luck of an ease love. You seem like a decent man, tattoos aside. That is why, if you love Kagome the way you claim to do, you will let her go.”

“InuYasha!”

“Huh?”

“I’m talking to you!”

“I’m driving!” Even to himself, the excuse sounded weak. For fear Kagome would pick up on his bullshit, he opted for diplomacy. “Can you repeat what it was?”

“My family! Did you like them?”

“Yeah, they’re great.”

She could sniff it out his lies from miles away, one of her many infuriating talents. It was a good thing InuYasha wasn’t lying, then. Her mom and brother had won him over without even trying. Her grandfather was difficult, to say the least. But ultimately, he only had Kagome’s best interests at heart. How could InuYasha not hold someone like that in deep appreciation? They shared the same priorities, after all.

“I’m glad.” Kagome sticked a palm out of the window, to cut the chill night air. Not even that diverted his concentration from the road ahead, hands sweating at the tigh grip on the steering wheel. They let the silence set, until her profound exhale disturbed it. “Do you miss your motorbike?”

Before Kagome, a classic black Harley used to be the love of his life. He had saved every penny he ever gotten in order to get it. It was the first significant thing he had ever bought with his own money. Sadly, the maintenance was pretty expensive and by the time they started going on double dates with Miroku and Sango or Koga and Ayame, an average car proved to be the obvious, more practical choice. It had its advantages. Convenience. Economy. Illegal activities on the backseat. His mother was radiant, too. She had somehow convinced herself owning a motorcycle was a creative way of signing his own death certificate.

He didn’t regret it.

But he couldn’t chase the wind in a car. Kagome wouldn’t hold him for dear life in a car.

“Sometimes.”

“Me too. Maybe we can afford to buy it back, someday.” His stomach sank. There would be no ‘someday’. Not for them. “InuYasha?”

“Maybe.”

He turned the radio on and neither of them talked the whole way home.

Water was pouring down, warm and nice against his skin. InuYasha stood under the shower far more than the necessary. His hope was that if he stalled long enough, Kagome would be sleeping by the time he left the bathroom. It was an act of pure cowardice, but it was for the best. If she was awake, he would be tempted to take her one last time, and what kind of monster he’d be by the morning, when they would have to say goodbye?

Kagome was sitting on their bed, waiting for him with his AC/DC shirt on. InuYasha should have anticipated she wouldn’t be entirely oblivious to his internal turmoil. He hadn’t done the neatest job hiding it and she knew him like no one else.

“Alright, what is wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Just who do you think you’re kidding?”

“Can we please do this tomorrow?”

“No! You’ve been acting strange since we left. I tried to give you space, but I won’t be able to sleep unless you put my mind at ease.”

From all the scenarios he had ran on his head of how this conversation would go, this was without a doubt the worst one. He didn’t want to end their relationship in the middle of the night, dressed only on his sweatpants, risking her to storm off that late. He owed Kagome more than that. Massaging his temple, InuYasha realized his hands were tied. She wouldn’t let it die. He sat by her side and ripped off the band-aid.

“We should break up.”

Her reaction to the news was a mystery InuYasha wasn’t dying to find out. She could cry, she used to do it for less and his ego would appreciate it. She could scream at him, it was totally understandable. She could slap his face, he probably deserved it. She could leave. He wouldn’t blame her.

“No.” Plain and simple.

Whatever he expected her to do, that wasn’t it.

“No?”

“That’s right.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“We’re breaking up!”

“No, we’re not. Are you in love with someone else?”

“Well... No.”

“Have you stopped loving me?”

“That’s… That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m bad for you, Kagome! Can’t you see that?” His ferocity made her quiver and cursing himself, InuYasha counted two heavy breaths to try and tone it down. “Can’t you see everything you’ll miss out just to be by my side? I can’t do that to you. I won’t. What we have… It can be easy here, but in the real world...”

“Did my grandfather put you up to this?”

His startle gave him away. It was pointless to deny.

“He only said what we already knew and were too stubborn to accept.”

“How dare he?!”

“He’s right, y’know? This is the best thing for you.”

“How dare you?” She poked his naked chest, her fury unleashed like InuYasha hadn’t seen in a while. “Who are you to make this decision for me?”

“I’m someone who saw his mother be casted out and humiliated on a daily basis over it!”

“Have you ever asked her if she would do it again? Because I’m pretty sure I know the answer. And mine is the same.”

“What about children? You wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not they would inherit your spiritual powers if you had ‘em with a human.”

“I don’t care about the stupid bloodline tradition! It’s not like demons and humans are at war anymore. Any child we might have will be loved, powers or not powers. I refuse to let outdated morals dictate how I live my life, I refuse to let them get in the way of my happiness. And I can’t believe after everything we’ve been through you would give up of me that easy.”

“Easy?” InuYasha hissed. Kagome didn’t back down one bit at his rompant. “You think this is easy for me? This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do and if it’s possible you’re making it even harder. For once in my life I’m being selfless. For once in my life I’m putting someone else first. Because I fucking love you!”

Finally, finally, her lips crushed into his. It was a long time coming, as if every single event since he had seen her in that blue dress earlier were building up to that moment. He welcomed her touch like was second nature, greedly pulling her close to devour her lips. The taste of mint toothpaste flooded his senses and suddenly the whole universe shrunk to the shape her mouth. Her slow hands went from his cheeks to his wet hair, tangling on the messy strands and inducing the nape ones to rise up.

Only then InuYasha understood.

He was fooling himself.

Selfish. His love for her always was and always would be selfish. He could try to stay away, he could try to shut her out. In the end of the day, all she had to do was snap her fingers and he would be running to her. There was no escaping it. She wanted him, he was hers.

Little by little, InuYasha broke the kiss, their foreheads still connected as their hearts restored their normal pace.

“I don’t want to make things difficult between you and your family.”

“I’m sorry about tonight, InuYasha. I was so excited with the idea of you and my family getting along, I forgot to be more careful and pushed it too far with grandpa. Let’s give it time, okay? He’ll come around. If he doesn’t, you are not the one making things difficult. He is. People tend to be afraid of what they don’t know. It doesn’t matter. It’s not theirs to know, it’s ours. And we shouldn’t allow their opinions to interfere. No prejudiced beliefs can take me from your side. As long as you want me, there are no deal breakers. So what do you truly want?”

“What I truly want…” He got up and went to their wardrobe, reaching the depths of the drawer where he kept his jeans for the hidden ring. He found it and fell into one knee in front of her. “It’s to spend the rest of my life with you.” She gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth as her eyes overflowed. “This might be crazy soon, but it has also been a crazy night. Kagome, will you—”

“Yes!”

She knocked him down in a hug that turned into another kiss, tender than the prior. They had time to pleasantries now. They had all the time in the world. InuYasha wanted to laugh at the expense of his unplanned rebellion. There he was, making the exact opposite thing her grandfather had ordered him to do. And he was still a bit unaware as to how.

“Will ya let me put this thing on your finger or what?” He questioned when she pulled away.

“In one condition.”

“Which one?”

“Don’t you ever break up with me again.”

“It won’t be a problem.”

A/N: this is for the brilliant @dyaz-stories​ who requested “The stakes are high. Tthe water's rough. But this love is ours” + “And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored. Cause my heart is yours” for the lyric game.

I hope you don’t mind the “my father” to “my grandfather”change, but I thought it was more fitting, given the circumstances. Sorry I made you the bad guy, grandpa, but someone had to be! Also, I know the lyrics say that the snide remarks about the tattoos would be ignored, but no matter how hard I tried to stand by it, Kagome refused to be silenced.

About the tattoos: I’ve read somewhere cherry blossoms mean female beauty, love, happiness, renovation and hope. They symbolize the end of winter and beginning of spring… which is pretty much everything Kagome represents to InuYasha.

That being said, happy Inukag Week! Yes, I do celebrate it as if it was a hollyday. No, I do not think I’m obsessed. I like this couple a normal amount. And this fanfic just happens to fit the prompt “acceptance” from day one, so here you go @inukag-week​

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [20]

Masterlist

A/N: I write this as I sit in bed, knowing full well that I should be on the bus right now on my way to my lecture, but that doesn’t matter. Thank you all for your help last night, it truly did help me calm down a lot. Also I’d like to apologise for clearly being over dramatic (but God has punished me because I am actually a little ill now Oof). Anywho, enjoy the chapter and enjoy the gif of Claes which may or may not suggest acts that you shall do to Dracula which most definitley would not be in line with the current traffic laws

Oh, also a warning - there’s quite a few sexual references in this one and also an almost handjob.

~^*^~

Now, while Dracula was the most sophisticated, high maintenance, gentlemanly gentleman that you had ever had the pleasure of meeting, he definitely had some weird quirks. For one, he truly enjoyed showers and baths. He didn’t need them, considering his body didn’t sweat and nor did he reek of death (only to the human nose, apparently - dogs could smell him from miles off). He said that he simply liked the convenience of it. One of humanities greatest inventions, he had proclaimed.

Currently, you were indulging in his most recent quirk. Back pressed against the door of the bathroom, you could hear the shower running and another sound. Music. What you originally would have expected to be beautiful classics like Gymnopedie No. 1, maybe Clair De Lune or something along those lines, was actually...

Lil Nas X’s Old Town Road.

You were in hysterics. Your stomach had knotted with the force of your (almost) silent laughter, tears were threatening the corner of your eyes and your jaw ached. You didn’t have any idea just how Dracula had found it, or why he liked it so very much as to put it on repeat, but listening to him hum along the tune was spiralling you down into painful bouts of laughter every second that you heard it and continued to think about the bizarreness of the entire ordeal.

Maybe you should have laughed a little further away, since a certain male had heard the laughter that you had genuinely tried to conceal. He wanted to catch you off guard for being so inconsiderate to both his wishes to bathe and his music choices.

Back still pressed firmly against the door, you had to lean further into it just to support yourself and when whoosh. Down you went as steam billowed out and onto your back you went. It was Dracula’s turn to laugh now. You scowled, laugh immediately disappearing from your features as you pushed yourself up to look at him. Regret hit you. In just a towel, secured to his waist by his hand, he loomed over you as he continued to chuckle. His other arm extended over your head, holding the door open and holy shit, you didn’t realise the expanse of the muscle he had. Beads of water rolled down his skin, a thin layer of heat steaming off of him, as if to physically scream ‘look at how how I am!’ And you chocked on air. His hair all wet and falling into his face, his chest puffed out as his laughter continued. Dear heavens above, you should have stayed in the bedroom and far, far away from him when he looked like this.

Which one of you was the cannibal again? You couldn’t remember.

“Do you no longer find my taste in music amusing, or is there something suddenly bothering you?” He teased, eyes looking over your form. All that you wore was one of his much too oversized shirts. You had told him that you enjoyed to sleep in it because it was comfortably, but the truth was that it swallowed you with his scent and you loved it. You hadn’t even realised that the music was no longer playing.

“I-“ you were lost for words, gawking at him.

“Oh, you see something you like?”

“No- I- you know what, I think I’m gonna just got for a quick jog to, uh, I don’t know- Scotland. Yes, Scotland.”

“Darling, you would never make it out of this room. I wouldn’t let you.”

“Drac,” you huffed, “please stop doing things that make me feel a burning need to mock you because I don’t like your cockiness when you get me back.”

“Well, how is it fair that you get to have your way with me, but I can’t?”

“Dracula you had your way with me before you,” for the last word of your sentence, you brought up your fingers to use as air quotes, “died.”

“And I hadn’t even started.” He smirked, “now, is there something that you wanted?”

“No, you can return to your shower. Maybe try a different song, though, Old Town Road gets old fast.”

“I think I have an even better idea.” His hand that held the door fell and hooked around your waist, pulling you into the room. You gently yelped in surprise as he pulled your chest flush to his. You could feel the water soaking the shirt immediately and you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp. The door shut behind you, “stop moving or I’ll drop the towel.” You froze.

“Oh, c‘ mon Drac, Barefoot Contessa was about to start.” You pouted.

“You were very clearly more interested in me than in the television. Now, as you can see, I’ve left the water running.”

“Good for you. Your water bill will be high this month.” You retorted.

“Care to join me?”

“Hah, no.”

He dipped his head down to your mark, which had scarred over nicely. Pushing the hair away from that side of your neck, he pressed a kiss. You shuddered, balling your hands into fists. He wasn’t about to win. You couldn’t afford to let him win again. He pressed a second kiss against it, and when you still showed signs of resilience, his tongue flicked out. Sweet Jesus. A blissful and intense tingle spread through your shoulders and down your back. Your knees buckled and you pressed your hands to his firm chest to keep yourself upright.

“Much better.” He hummed, “have I persuaded you, yet?”

“No.” You breathed.

His mouth began to work against your neck, kisses here and there, his tongue occasionally trailing a quick stripe across your skin. If just his kisses like this drove you haywire, what the fuck would you do in much more intimate circumstances? It became apparent quickly that you wouldn’t be able to stand much more of this abuse and-

“Okay fine! But no funny business. We are meant to be going out today.”

“I won’t promise to keep my hands to myself, but I’ll definitely obey your command, my darling.”

You watched him as he used his fingers to bind the towel to his body. The room was filling with steam once more and you were choking on the humidity. Mostly. His eyes glossed over you, a sheen of something over them. His fingers trailed from your waist, down your hips and to the hem of his your shirt.

“How about we dispose of this for the time being?” His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Your heart thundered in your chest. This man. He’d certainly be the death of you - figuratively or quite literally, you weren’t sure.

“Alright.” You whispered. Your eyes locked with his and with a slow, yet swift movement, he pulled the material up and over your head. It landed somewhere but he was otherwise occupied now, looking your body over once more.

“You didn’t even wear underwear to bed?” He raised his eyebrow, “my goodness. You minx.”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “it’s much more freeing.”

He chuckled deeply. A pink tint adorned your face and he knew that you were a little embarrassed to be so bare before him. He hadn’t realised up until this moment when his eyes scanned you that he’d accidentally left a pink blossom on your neck which was beginning to bloom purple. A wicked and smug smile crossed his lips.

“Go and get in,” he whispered the command and you did so, not without trailing your fingers against his torso as you moved past him. He turned, enchanted, taking in the back angles of your body. You truly were a goddess. There was no other explanation that was feasible.

His eyes became greedy, watching the way the glass began to steam once more as hot beads of water began to cascade over you. You sighed at the feeling. Ducking your head under the jet of water, your hair became wet immediately. When you threw your head back with a gasp, Dracula very almost lost all control. The way your hair stuck to you perfectly, strands accentuating the curves of your upper body, water streaming from the ends and washing over every single curve of you.

Your cheeks were now red from the heat of the water and you were tugged backwards suddenly by his hands. Your back became flush with his chest and his lips came down to attack your shoulders. His hands ran against your skin, careful not to touch anywhere he’d know you’d like a little too much. How had he ended up this lucky?

“I didn’t even need a shower today. I had one last night.” You grumbled, but you were savouring his touch.

“You’re keeping me company.” He hummed against your skin.

You turned in his arms, wrapping your own firmly around his neck so that you could stand on your toes with support. You were a little closer his height now. His hands trailed along your back, feeling every inch of skin yet he remained adamant to not touch you where you were beginning to crave it most.

“Maybe I didn’t want to.” You began to press kisses to his collarbones.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to, either, yet here we are.”

He drove you backwards and your back hit the wall, behind where the water was coming from the shower head. The wall was freezing and eased your body where the heat was making it uncomfortably hot. You lowly groaned at the sensation and Dracula began his kisses on your neck, your shoulders, and the first few inches of your chest. Your fingers knitted into his hair, your lips parted slightly and shit, a familiar warmth spread to your gut.

“Drac,” you gasped and he stopped, pressing his body into yours. What kind of game was he playing?

“Yes, [First]?”

“You know, we could totally just...” you trailed off, hoping he’d be able to finish your sentence himself. You bit your lip, anticipating his response.

“Well, we aren’t.” He chuckled lightly, “wasn’t it you that just said no funny business? Look at you now, practically begging for me.”

“You’re the one who started this.” You pouted.

“Actually, you are. Had you not been outside of the bathroom at all, I never would have felt the desire to have you join me. But if you’re going to get greedy and expect more than I’m willing to offer, then I suggest that you go and get yourself ready for our outing.”

“Alright.” You almost pushed past him, stomping out of the shower and plucking up the shirt at you neared the door. If he was going to play games with you, you would finish it. Even if that meant by yourself.

“Oh, and [First],” he called and you snapped your head around to look at him sharply, he was grinning, “don’t do anything that you would prefer me to do. I will know, and there will be consequences.”

~^*^~

An hour later and you were finally ready to leave. You had eaten, and gotten yourself dried and dressed. Due to the intense August heat, you had opted for a sundress that showed off the bottom halves of your legs and exposed your arms and your chest and your back. Dracula liked it very much, but he had put up a fight about you wearing it outside where other men could so freely look at you.

One thing that had genuinely shocked you was Dracula’s newest addition to his résumé - driving. He had surprised you approximately a week ago by picking you up from the gym in a shiny, brand new Jag. Apparently he had felt the need to learn this skill to fit in a little more and to make his way to you when he found out you had gone northward without the papers reporting on a large black beastly hound walking the length of the M1.

He couldn’t have looked more bougie if he tried. His suit, a little more causally worn than usual with the first two buttons undone and exposing his chest just a little, the suit jacket right over the top and open to show no waitcoat like usual. He had opted for some glasses today and had your mouth been open, you’d be drooling all over the centre console.

“Stop looking at me like that, I’m finding it hard to concentrate.” He stated lowly.

“Don’t look so fucking good them.” You crossed your arms and looked ahead instead at the streets of London rushing by.

“I can’t help it. It’s my thing.” You scoffed at his words.

“It is not your thing, you do it on purpose.” You huffed at him.

“I’ve been caught.”

“... why don’t we just pull over for like ten minutes?”

“[First], I am not pulling over.” He told you, “get a grip of yourself, woman.”

He laughed. He was not getting away with toying with you all morning. He had made it his mission when you had woken up to ignite every inch of your skin with his touch, he had hovered his lips over yours, he had done everything in his power to make you feel weak in the knees and you had finally had enough.

Reaching over, your hand came to rest right between his legs and his laughter faded with a soft “ah,” and he couldn’t help the smallest moan that left his lips. His head automatically threw back and he had to will himself to keep his eyes on the road. He spoke your name dangerously. It was a warning to stop. He’d had his fun, it was your turn. You began to slowly and tantalisingly move your hand along his length. He drew in a breath. It had been a very long time since this had occurred and the sudden recollection of the feeling drove him so quickly to the edge of insanity that he thought he would crash the car. A shaky breath left his lips, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in his bottom lip between his teeth.

Your smirked proudly. Who knew vampires still worked anatomically? And could still feel the pleasure?

Well, you learnt something new everyday. This was your TIL.

A fire began to burn in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t concentrate on anything except for the feeling of your hand. He genuinely wanted to cry. Eyes flickering to the rear view mirror, he made sure that there wasn’t a car behind him and slammed on the breaks. Your body became restrained against the seat belt and you knew to take your hand away.

“Do you have a death wish?” He growled, turning to face you. Fuck, how did anger make him even more attractive than to begin with?

“Well, my boyfriend once told me that his dick would kill me, so yes, yes I do.” His face softened. You had never called each other official names yet. It just hadn’t been discussed.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I know. He’s a right catch. The only problem with him is that he’s spent all morning riling me up and I’ve had nothing to show for it.” You dramatically sighed.

“He sounds like an arsehole.” Dracula mused, playing along.

“He really is. I still love him, though.”

Before Dracula could lean over and crash his lips to yours like he wanted to, a car behind him honked and he was forced to simply smile and gloat over the fact that you had finally confessed that you loved him, too.

~^*^~

The first half of your outing went swimmingly well. Dracula was all smitten, insistent on holding your hand as you wandered around the shops just looking at everything. You were pulling him around like an excitable puppy, into every store to show off some of the greatest things humanity had created since the 1800s.

When it came to around lunchtime, Dracula inquired into your current hunger status, and you had denied his offer to eat. You hadn’t been shopping in so long and you always found it fun to just see what things were on sale.

It was, however, in the midst of the lunchtime slump as most people made their way to the food court that the worst was destined to happen. His voice had called out to you, as Dracula had his back turned towards you. It didn’t look as though you were together considering the space and the fact that you were looking away from each other. Your head snapped over.

“Hey, what’s a pretty thing like you being out alone? Wouldn’t you prefer some company?” You clutched your bag and you heard the click of Dracula’s shoes as he turned to look at the commotion behind him.

“Actually, I’m uh, I’m-“

“Here, I’ll treat you.” His hand came out and grasped your wrist.

“No, really-“

Dracula’s hand suddenly planted over his and you looked over to see a deadly look on his face. If looks could kill. The eyes of the gentleman currently trying to steal you away from him flashed with fear.

“She isn’t interested.” Dracula spoke very clearly, very slowly and made sure to make himself look as tall as possible. You shrunk down a little.

“Come on, man, don’t get involved.” Clearly whoever this man was, was an idiot.

“Don’t get involved?” Dracula scoffed, “some filthy vermin has its hand on something that belongs to me. So I suggest that you remove it.” With some force, he squeezed and you felt the pressure in your arm. It released as Dracula pulled the man’s hand off of you.

“Fuck this.” He grumbled and slumped away as quickly as he could.

Well, that was the trip ruined. Dracula’s mood had soured. Just as you needed his good mood to help you with your shopping, it had very quickly wilted. It wasn’t going to stop you, however, as you tugged him into the first of many clothing stores. Within minutes, he had almost become your personal shopping cart, carrying all of the things that you wanted to try on. His face was gloomy and blue and you must’ve looked a right sight. A tall and handsome man with the hump and a grumpy face, wrapped around the finger of a cheerful and upbeat girl as he carried all of her goods and let her do as she pleased. Quite the sight, indeed.

In the changing rooms, he became the epitome of boyfriend as he perched on the leather chair that he had picked, waiting for you to do whatever you had to do. Every few minutes or so, you’d pull back the curtains to reveal the clothes you had in and he’d grunt in response or make a blunt remark. His sour mood became old quick and you knew that you were going to have to further piss him off just to make him happier again.

So you bought the clothes that you liked and moved on to the next store, deciding to pick a few more revealing items, more form fitting and lower cut. Every time you moved on to a new store, the amount of ridiculous items began to outnumber the clothes that you’d actually wear. It wasn’t until you drew back the curtain and was standing there in a dress made of fishnet that Dracula snapped. He couldn’t believe you’d stand there in public, your body on display with just your underwear protecting your most intimate features. It accentuated your curves so well and he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you so revealed. Especially not some lowlife like the man from earlier.

He almost tore your arm off, storming past the cash register as he threw the money down, and then he ripped off his jacket, placing it around you and warning you to do the buttons up. He didn’t speak a word to you in the car.

Holy shit, you were in trouble.

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026

[daroamine]

falling for you (aha, literally)

 Summary: Their evening was going pretty well. Better than well, actually, if Remus were to describe it. It seemed like Virgil was finally getting comfortable around them again. And then the dumb emo had to go and fall down a gravel hill. How inconsiderate. OH, also, Remus is really gay for Virgil but likes to think he's not.

ao3

Notes:  this fic was something i impulse-wrote at 2am?? so i'm not exactly sure how good it is, and i cannot be bothered to proof read. so i guess you're gonna have to deal with it

warnings: cursing, non-graphic description of blood, non-graphic description of injury, i think one intrusive thought about injury from remus?

----

Remus grinned brightly at Patton, who was cheerfully kicking pebbles beside him. The sides had gone on an outing in the imagination, just for a little relaxing time, and he felt his body just melt into goo as soon as he saw the sunset over the horizon.

Logan and Janus were conversing quietly at the back of the group, and as he turned back to check on them, Logan caught his eye. The nerd's face was flushed a soft pink, like he was pleasantly comfortable. The light from the dimming sky shone off of his glasses like little streams of starlight. Janus looked all-too aware of how pretty the other looked, and he kept glancing over and awkwardly coughing, puffing up his coat collar. Remus scoffed in disgust, but a smirk played at his lips.

Roman turned then, to link hands with Patton, and Remus decided to take off, listening to the moral side's squeals grow distant as he raced further along the path. His feet pounded harshly against the gravel floor, and he let out a mad laugh to the winds. This was a good idea. Trees and benches whizzed past him, becoming a blur. He gave a bird the finger too. For the irony.

Letting out a loud whoop as he reached the top of the huge hill, he held up both hands in a solid victory pose. There was a snicker from beside him, and lo and behold, there sat Virgil himself, cross legged on the hill with his ripped jeans and worn boots and the setting sun lighting him like an angel. Or maybe to Remus, a sexy little demon.

Either way, it was... Admittedly nice to see the little emo so relaxed around the dark sides now. It had been so tense and uncomfortable for so long, but seeing him play around and laugh with him again just... Well, it made him very happy. He slumped down beside the other side for a moment, wriggling into the gravel so that the chalk dust would most definitely leave a butt-shaped imprint on his jeans. Ooh, that'd be so fun! Maybe he could convince Virgil to do that too. Nah, he would never, it's too "embarrassing".

His eyes found Virgil beside him again, and for a scary, disgusting moment, his breath caught in his throat. Virgil was... Pretty. Little freckles framed his sharp nose, and he had dark, purplish eyebags partially covered with pigmented black eyeshadow. Acne was spattered across his cheeks and forehead, and well, he didn't think that would be cute til right now, but there we go. Virgil had a thin little face, bony and angry, and in all ways should be unattractive, and yet- Well, and yet, Remus was sat on this hill at sunset admiring him. His skin was pale, almost frighteningly so, and well, wasn't that just hot as fuck? He knew he was into vampires, but Virgils too? Man, that's a new one.

'No it isn't,' his mind whispered, but he imagined violently stabbing that thought with a spear. Pssh. He didn't like VIRGIL. Liking is GROSS. All Roman's area for sure, and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you. "Hey, Virgey?" he said abruptly, elbowing him in the ribs so hard he almost fell over. The emo scowled up at him from under his fringe, a playful pout toying at his lips. "What do you want?"

And he grinned wickedly then, green eyes lighting up like Christmas had come early. Virgil rose a brow suspiciously. "Race ya, bitch!" And Remus leapt from his seat, sprinting down the hill so hard he thought he might slip and split open his head on the rough floor. He didn't though, and he looked back gleefully at Virgil as he ran, giggling. The emo was about three feet behind him, fast on his feet but clumsy with his long limbs, and they found themselves at an even pace.

"Get here, you little sewer rat!" the growl came from behind him, and Remus cackled, throwing his head back. "You'll never take me alive-!" Just as he finished his sentence, however, he stumbled over a large rock, and almost catapulted to the floor. Virgil was close now.

Remus screamed as Virgil's bony hands grasped at his sweater, and he reached the checkpoint at the last moment: the top of the next hill. The other side wasn't going to slow down. At the last moment, he stepped out of the way, and Virgil launched forward, hands stretched to grasp at nothing, and- Well, then he fell down the hill.

Remus gaped from where he stood, still panting hard. The other side had taken quite a tumble, hitting large, blunt rocks and landing on the concrete of an eating area below. "Shit, Virge-" he muttered, stumbling down after him. His chest stuttered with panic as he neared, only hearing soft mumbling. "Ow, owow, ow, ow-"

Kneeling beside him, he tilted his head to meet Virgil's eyes. "Where ya bruised, Mister Muse? Yknow... Like the band?" There was a little giggle from the bundle of,, boy on the concrete, and it sat up to reveal a dizzy looking emo with a bloodied lip. "M'okay, Rem. I think I jus' hit my face a bit, and um, my knees."

"Your knees?- Oh SHIT, your knees."

Now that Virgil was sat up properly, it was easy to see the bloodied scrapes engraved in his knees and shins. It seemed the fall had made even more tears in his jeans, too.

"You in pain? Like, on a scale of 'owie you poked me' to 'holy fuck, I'm literally gonna die right now', who do i need to call?" Remus rambled, scrunching his nose. Virgil huffed a little laugh, pulling himself up onto one of the seating benches. "It's fine, m'just a little shaky, shut the fuck up." Remus stared at the blood clearly soaking through his jean fabric, seemingly deliberating something, before standing again, having made a decision. "Take off your pants, shorty."

Virgil, to his credit, did look incredibly affronted, but NOT to his credit, he immediately began to unbutton his jeans without thinking twice. His hands were trembling from the shock as he tried to wiggle out of the pants, and he gasped roughly as the fabric scraped his knees. His eyes watered a little, and he bit his already bloody lip.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You are mortally injuring yourself, you dumb bitch. Lemme do it." he whacked the side's hands away, and shimmed the jeans down his thighs, being mindful of the wounds. "You're such a stupid whore, V," he grumbled as he carefully peeled the denim from his scrapes. The other side made a few sounds of protest, but then turned silent, and it was only a matter of time before he began to laugh quietly.

"This is so dumb," Virgil gasped between laughs, breath rasping and shoulders trembling, "I fell down a hill after we, TWO ADULTS, played chase and now you stripped me in the middle of a public recreational spot." "It's the imagination, dumbass, nobody else can get here!" Remus argued as he conjured wipes, but even then he had an amused little grin on his face.

Once Virgil's wounds had been disinfected and carefully wrapped, he slid his jeans back on. By now, it was almost dark, and Virgil sighed quietly from where he sat beside Remus on the bench. "M'so tired now, Rem," he breathed with a laugh, putting his head onto the other side's shoulder.

Remus turned a bright pink, biting his lip. "The others are still coming." he spoke, eyeing the top of the hill, beyond which he could hear Roman's boisterous laughter. Virgil groaned, pressing his face into Remus' neck. "I'on care.." And okay, Virgil must have gotten a concussion because there is no way he would do this if he wasn't completely delirious.

"Righty then, bedtime, Veevee." Remus coughed, hating the twisty stomachy feeling that was going on. He swept the side into a baby hold, being mindful of his injuries, and cuddled him against his chest. It was incredibly easy, as Virgil was like a tiny little twig, and if he was like a tiny little twig, then Remus was a whole-ass forest. "No more walkies. You'd probably, like, die." he spoke, and Virgil just laughed quietly into his shoulder.

Once the others reached the bench as well, Remus was beginning to feel rather embarrassed at the position he had made for them, but there was no turning back, as Virgil's head was securely snuggled against his collar. "Emo fell down the hill." Remus announced as they approached, standing with Virgil in his arms.

Patton gasped, and immediately jogged over to fuss over him, but Remus turned away. "Don't get ya panties in a twist, boys, he's been wrapped and shit already. Let him rest." he grinned, giving them a wink. The moral side rubbed his arms unsurely, but stepped back, looking at the others.

They began to head to the field as darkness fell, planning on watching the stars, and Janus fell into step with Remus.

"You're blushing." was all he said, sounding satisfied as his little snake eye glinted at him. Remus scoffed, knowing what that implied. "You got it all wrong, Snake Lively! And speaking of blushing, what was that shit with Logan, huh?" Janus didn't reply, only turning ahead to watch the path, but he knew for sure he saw a rosy flush on his human cheek.

They reached the field some time after nightfall, and the sky was dark and splotchy like spilled ink.

Roman immediately rushed ahead of them all to conjure little blankets and pillows, and plopped himself down on the largest one, laughing. Patton followed after, then Logan, and Janus looked all-too eager to sit beside him. Remus carefully plopped himself on the end, still with the anxious side in his lap. He hummed a little, looking down at him, but eventually took a rough hand and carded his fingers gently through the side's slightly greasy hair. In response, Virgil's arms tightened around his waist, humming sweetly in his doze, and Remus couldn't hold back a fond grin. What a cute little emo. He tilted his head back to look at the stars, still running his hands through the anxious side's locks.