#wait actually. the repressed one i doodled last night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shinidamachu · 4 years

Text

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

#Inukag Week #Ours #Inukag Fanfiction #InuYasha #My Writing #Inukag Fluff #InuKag Angst #Sid Writes #Inukag Oneshot #Kagome Higurashi #Modern AU

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ticklishraspberries · 5 years

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A/N: (Hello! Haven’t been round here in a while, but it’s still lovely; you’re still lovely. And here’s a dual thank-you-for-filling-my-late-it-cravings and I-miss-stan-he-deserves-some-fix-it-fluff-too thoughts. Hope you’re having a good one!!)

This is so cute!! I loved it, thank you for submitting!! - Raspberry xo

There was a time in Stan’s life where he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone get tickled. It might happen occasionally; a poke here or there to accent a point or get someone to shift away. Then Richie decided he rather liked tickling, and well—

It’s not like any of the Losers had a lot of say when Richie wanted something.

But it wasn’t horrible, as much as Stan might’ve feared anyway. When half their time dissolved into wrestling matches, tussling and rolling around the carpet of Bill’s room, the addition of some wandering, wiggling fingers just meant less bruising (most of the time) and more laughing (all of the time).

This was probably due to the fact that the group, surprisingly or not, knew a lot about each person’s limits, even without saying so.

Richie didn’t have any, first of all. He was as content with ticklish tracing down his back as he was getting pinned to the ground and thoroughly taken apart. Of course, none of the Losers went full overboard or anything nasty, but even the more sadistic times they could remember left Richie cherry red and teary-eyed, beaming long after the tickling had stopped.

On the other side of the spectrum, Stan would have to put himself.

That’s not to say he had a problem participating in the suddenly numerous amount of tickle fights the group now had. If anything, he might even enjoy them, as long as Richie never found out. The gloating of his ‘genius idea’ would be unbearable and likely result in him getting tackled and wrecked—which is exactly what he wanted anyways, defeating the point entirely.

So yes, he enjoyed them, but almost strictly as the one doing the tickling.

Then he started dating Bill.

Dating Bill was easy, especially once their friends stopped their ‘subtle’ gawking and lame teasing. It was as cool and natural as their friendship, with the bonus of cuddles whenever Stan so desired (and he wouldn’t have thought that he’d want them all that much, but once he got them, he couldn’t imagine being without them).

And as their friendship slid easily into their relationship, so did their friend group’s element of random, frequent tickle fights.

And Stan liked them even more, if he were to be honest.

There is nothing in the world that can beat the sound of Bill Denbrough’s laughter or the look on his face as Stan scribbles quick and nimble fingers up his sides.

He’s a constant stream of babbling nonsense with no way to understand through his laughter and stutter combined. His hands tug uselessly at Stan’s sleeves, body squirming violently without going anywhere. His eyes get all crinkly with a smile so bright that when Stan stops, he feels more breathless than he thinks Bill might be.

Just the thought of Bill, flushed red and breathing deeply through stray giggles has Stan’s fingers itching for something to do, but—

That’s exactly what he shouldn’t do.

Stan blinks, eyes focusing back on his surroundings.

The TV is still on, at some part of the movie, though Stan has absolutely no idea where. He could’ve zoned out five minutes ago or fifty. This may even be a new movie; he’s not sure.

He can feel Bill take a deep breath behind him, chest raising enough to push lightly behind Stan’s back.

Bill’s hand lies still on his side.

And that—that’s what started Stan’s train of thought.

Because Bill, he was a bit of a fidgeter, at least when it came to touch.

He constantly had his hands moving; winding through Stan’s curls, rubbing over his back, caressing his cheeks. It was nice, one of Stan’s favorite things, actually. But Stan was perceptive, and he’d started to notice something.

He started to notice that Bill’s hands would sometimes, and with increasing frequency, come to a dead stop.

It happened when the were in his room, wasting the night away with slow kisses, his hands drifting slowly from Stan’s hair down his neck.

It happened in the night, when he held Stan from behind, a hand clasped over the front of his stomach.

And it happened just now, when his hand slipped from doodling small patterns over the sleeve of Stan’s upper arm to lay over his side.

Stan had noticed, though he hadn’t said a word. And he’d spent the week trying to put the pieces together, though it hadn’t really clicked until last night.

They were lounging around Bill’s room, splayed out over his bedsheets. It was all casual conversation when Bill shot off a snarky comment that had Stan poking a giggle out of him, a sound Stan felt compelled to chase after. And then after he’d wrestled Bill down and made him cry mercy—

Bill had sat up, a glint in his eyes.

A glint that had Stan’s eyes widening, skin prickling.

And then the look left, and Bill tugged him into a gentle and tired cuddle.

And it sounded dumb at the time, when Stan had tried to work out what just happened, but now-

Did Bill want to tickle him?

The thought sends heat crawling up Stan’s neck; it’s dumb and embarrassing, but-

It makes sense, if he thinks about it.

While Bill did get his fair share of attacks in the group, he’d never been one to turn down revenge. He’d even start a fight or two, if one of their friends looked a little bored or put out, just to liven them back up again.

Having a younger brother, Bill did have some of the most experience in this niche topic. He’d definitely sent more than one of the Losers into hysterics with his skilled, probing fingers.

And just the image of Bill, straddling a friend Stan can’t bother to conjure into better focus, with his head tilted, grin teasing, a devilish glint to his eyes—

Stan’s wants so badly to turn and check that Bill can’t feel the heat that’s burning his ears, but that’d probably look even more suspicious than what his paranoid brain is coming up with now.

So, what?

The problem had been found, mostly, kind of. It’s the closest thing to an answer Stan can reason to anyways, what with the small amount of information he’s gathered.

So this would be the part where he plans out the solution.

But—

Stan shifts in muddled discomfort before he can really think about what he’s doing. He masks it as repositioning and settles back more snuggly against Bill’s chest, hoping his boyfriend hasn’t noticed.

He settles for worrying at his lip, still lost in thought.

He doesn’t know how ticklish he is. He doesn’t even know if he is ticklish.

When tickle frights became a normal thing in the Losers’ Club—and even the thought has Stan rolling his eyes—he’d been hesitant.

Alright, more than hesitant, he’d been opposed.

The thought of being squished against the floor, hands ruffling through his clothes, while he made any number of weird snorting (Bill), shrieking (Eddie), or combined (Richie) kind of noise—

It unsettled him.

And bless him, somehow all of his friends, down to Richie ‘no boundaries’ Tozier, had gotten it without being asked and let him be.

But now…

Now he hears a thump and screaming laughter and he’s not scared. He’s sometimes annoyed, sometimes entertained. But now, it’s the new normal and…

His eyes roll more forcefully, almost rolling right out of his head.

It’s the new normal and he kind of wishes someone had just gotten him involved already so he didn’t have to go through the process of giving his boyfriend permission to tickle him.

The movie is still going, but Stan is 100% sure Bill isn’t paying attention. If he were, he’d have already gone back to some mindless, endearing movement, but his hand still lies fixed on Stan’s waist.

So Stan flips forward onto his stomach before pushing himself up to straddle Bill’s legs. Now Bill seems to be paying attention, though he only get a small “w-wha-“ out before his mouth seals shut at Stan’s hands, slipping under his shirt to drum lightly on his stomach.

He immediately goes to bite his lip, fighting to keep the twitching of his mouth to a minimum. Stan can’t help the smile that takes his own face. And though he knows what his goal is, he can’t help a quick swipe of fingers that has Bill tensing, eyes shutting, and mouth puffing in a startled breath, before he continues the steady tap-tap-tap.

“S-Stan, come on. Are you r-re-really-“

Another gratuitous scribble of Stan’s fingers catches Bill mid-speech and pulls a bright laugh out of him before his mouth zips shut once again, stubbornly refusing to let Stan catch him off guard.

And then they’re silent—waiting—tension growing with every bored tap of Stan’s fingers.

And Stan, he was just going to say it.

Rather, his plan was to just go out and say it.

But for some reason, the words, “You can tickle me, if you want,” are stuck somewhere beneath his windpipe. And in the time it takes for Stan to wrestle them into his mouth, Bill’s smile has shifted from one of light torment to full-bodied amusement.

He raises an eyebrow, when Stan finally meets his gaze, a repressed huff of laughter shaking his chest even though Stan’s fingers have stilled.

And damn it if this deviates a little from the plan, but sometimes Bill is just asking for it.

So Stan decides to take the scenic route to his destination, scribbling his fingers over Bill’s lower stomach and admiring the view when his shocked expression quickly crumbles into unrestrained laughter.

Bill does as Bill always does, grabbing ahold of the fabric around Stan’s wrists without really doing much to block the movement of his fingers, spidering up to his rib cage and back down. He just needs something to hold onto and the thought would make Stan smile if he weren’t already.

As his fingers travel along the familiar space, tracing nonsense onto Bill’s stomach, kneading along his sides, and scratching at the bone and spaces of his ribs (maybe sneaking a poke or two under his arms when he’s dumb enough to keep them up), Bill’s squirming only grows more wild.

It’s kind of funny actually. Here Bill is, able to pin any one of them down in a wrestling match (or whenever he finds it necessary to help someone else get some well-deserved revenge), and yet he never tries to use any of that strength to just, say, buck his torturer off.

It’s really not that hard a conclusion to come to, even if your mind is preoccupied with something more…pressing. But Bill still manages to let that slip his mind entirely, every time, and instead squirms and jolts and writhes around until he’s spent.

Sometimes Stan thinks Richie isn’t the only one who’s taken a liking to this new pastime of their’s. But Stan is a nice boyfriend, so he won’t embarrass Bill with that conclusion yet.

There’s enough pink in Bill’s cheeks now to see in the dark of the living room, lit only by the television long forgotten in the corner. The color starts somewhere beneath the collar of his shirt and washes up to the tips of his ears. Stan’s fingers travel with a mind of their own, slipping up the side of Bill’s well-travelled torso to follow the path of color.

And although Bill’s movements had calmed slightly as the tickling went on, fingers spidering up the side of his neck are enough to get him going again. His shoulder flinches inward, hands moving to fist in Stan’s shirt and push him marginally back. A desperate and semi-clear, “p-p-plehehease!” squeaks out through the blubbering.

Stan lingers, long enough for Bill’s nose to scrunch up and deliver an unfairly adorable snort, kicking the color in his face up a notch, before he finally stops, leaving his hand to play with the wild hair mussed up around the nape of Bill’s neck.

It doesn’t take Bill too long to get his breath back, though the tingly feeling of Stan playing with his hair does punctuate his breathy ‘calm down’ laughter with a sharp giggle or two every now and then.

It’s a sight Stan can’t get enough of and who could blame him?

But then, he’s reminded of exactly how this all came to be and exactly what is waiting for him.

One hand slips loose of Stan’s shirt, settling behind Bill for him to use as leverage. He pushes himself up, a smile on his face, but one much more controlled, more devious than the one Stan had put on his face moments before. His eyes are sparkling with left over laughter and steely with a quiet determination.

The hand still gripping one side of Stan’s shirt, hovering over his side, is suddenly all Stan can think about.

But all too soon, Bill’s gaze starts to go soft again. Stan latently thinks of what he must look like, the deer-in-the-headlights look, the spike of fear that muddles the strange anticipation in his gut. It’s got to be this that has Bill backing down before he’s even touched him.

“You know, you can-“ Bill’s eyes find Stan’s from where he’s begun settling back into the pillows. Stan has to take a second to refocus. He swallows.

“You can get me back, if you want.”

And that seems to be the last thing Bill was expecting, if his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline means anything. His mouth hangs open for a second, trying to speak with no sound coming out. Bill clears his throat.

“S-Stan, are you-?”

The question fades out and Stan has absolutely no idea why it has him feeling twitchy. The need to slip off Bill’s lap, out of his hold, grows strong in the back of his head.

“I don’t know,” His tongue feels dry. “But you can—you can try.”

The statement ends high, like a question, with Stan shifting his position at how awkward it all sounds. Bill doesn’t move his hand an inch, from where it’s still fisted in his tee, but Stan’s own movements have the fabric ghosting against his side and tingling in a shockingly new and sensitive way.

And they just sit there, in silence. Bill probably still staring up at Stan; he wouldn’t know. For some reason—despite how confusing this situation is making him feel—he knows for a fact that he’ll blow a fuse if he keeps looking Bill in the eye after finally spitting that out, so he doesn’t.

They sit there so long—at least it feels ridiculously long—in such a tense silence that Stan feels the sudden need to apologize.

Maybe he got it wrong. Maybe Bill was just forming new habits and Stan read too much into it. Maybe now he’s gone and asked Bill to—to tickle him, basically, and now he’s weirded out!

Stan gets so caught up in his own internal rambling that he doesn’t recognize the soft yet persistent pinching against his side until he’s jerking away and into the couch cushions.

It stops upon impact, but as soon as Stan’s pushed himself back upright, it’s back and worse.

A gasp catches in his throat and his left arm is pushing at the feeling with no thought as to what is could be, just that it needs to stop.

Then three things happen, in rapid succession.

First, Stan’s fingers tangle with Bill’s.

Next comes the realization of what’s happening, a realization Bill seems to have at the same time.

Then, Bill’s sly grin makes a reappearance, and Stan feels breathless all over.

Of course, that’s nothing compared to what real breathlessness can be, Stan finds out.

Because it’s a quick tussle that leads to their positions reversed, Stan—frazzled and still in minor shock—pinned underneath Bill—whose smile seems to grow with every second.

And then Bill’s fingers are tripping up Stan’s sides, clumsy in their excitement, but very, very effective.

They’re so devastatingly effective that Stan doesn’t actually realize he’s laughing until the room is echoing with it.

It sounds almost foreign to his own ears, high and frantic and loud. He can’t remember the last time he laughed so long or hard, but it’s not the most prominent thought on his mind at the moment. What is front and center is the tingling, electric, and down right debilitating sensation sparking along his body.

If Stan could get a coherent word, or even thought in, he might compliment Bill on his thorough technique. All that comes out though is a series of mortifying squeals and varying degrees of laughter. Ironically enough, this seems to be all the compliment of skill Bill needs.

His hands work methodically to trace, prod, and spider over every conceivable tickle spot Stan might have. And while it answers Stan’s lingering curiosity of his body, he did not need to know with such depth (or any depth, really) the different pitches of his own laughter that come from Bill drilling into each and every one of his ribs. Of course, Bill finds this to be critical information, and it might drive Stan a little crazy.

It’s only once Bill wriggles his fingers into the space under Stan’s arms that he squeals and latches onto Bill’s wrists.

Oh, yes, self-defense is a thing. Maybe Stan wouldn’t judge Bill on forgetting that quite so harshly next time.

But even with Bill’s hands in his grasp, Stan can’t just…push them away.

He could—physically. Despite the barrage of giggles pouring from him, he knows he could shove Bill onto the carpet or at least away from his shockingly sensitive armpits with enough effort.

But when he peeks through damp lashes (when did he start tearing up?), Bill looks the happiest Stan can remember seeing in a while. And beneath all that giddiness is a look so fond, it warms Stan in a way even his useless struggling hasn’t done yet.

So he—gives in.

His hands stay clamped around Bill’s wrists but do little more than squeeze tighter when Bill’s mouth joins the fray, dotting kisses into the crook of Stan’s neck and making him squeak externally and groan internally at the sappy picture they must make.

And in what must be the most surprising revelation of the night, Stan finds that he…doesn’t hate this.

He didn’t expect to truly despise it or anything (though he can’t say the thought didn’t cross his mind). But even so, the fears he’d had before—about losing control and feeling silly—haven’t really been an issue. And the unexpected pros of Bill being touchy, fixed with that sunshine-bright smile, and leaving him with the pleasant ache of a good laugh—

It’s actually kind of nice.

Damn it, Richie.

Stan doesn’t have the mind to follow that thought though, or any other matter-of-fact, because as soon as it enter his head, Bill’s fingers have slipped into the dips of his hip bones and started drilling in.

And he may have—no, definitely—spoken too soon, because it’s not until that point that Stan really does loose his mind.

It’s like the tingles that’ve floated through his body have all decided to ricochet towards one unbelievably sensitive point, and the shriek leaves his mouth before he can even get the breath for it.

Stan’s hips buck up instinctually, trying frantically to displace the sudden, overwhelming feeling. He can hear weird shrieking and loud laughter that can’t possibly be coming from him, but he can’t place it over the number one priority of getting enough air in.

He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. His body and mind are live wires that won’t connect, so he does the only thing he can think to do.

“B-Bill, plehease!” Stan gasps out, and—just like that—Bill’s hands are rubbing firm, soothing, and decidedly non-tickly strokes over the lingering prickle in Stan’s hips.

Stan is still gasping, like he’d just run a marathon if not for the intermittent strings of laughter. When Bill slides off Stan’s legs and into the space beside him, Stan can’t comment, but he does shift closer to smother the last of his soft giggles into Bill’s chest.

At that point, Stan is put together enough to realize that Bill is laughing, albeit without making any noise, but still laughing at Stan. So Stan smacks his shoulder, without any of the force that he should be using, before snuggling back into Bill’s arms. It has the opposite effect in making Bill laugh more, but Stan can’t be bothered to care; all he wants right now is to nap.

And with Bill’s hand rubbing softly up and down his back, sometimes trailing lightly in a way Stan now recognizes as a little bit ticklish, it’s all he can do to not pass out then and there.

But first, his voice comes out low and slurred.

“You are not telling the others about this.”

Bill laughs again, this time out loud. The shaking of his chest earns another smack from Stan. But between that and the kiss he leaves on Stan’s forehead, Stan falls into a peaceful sleep, a soft smile still on his face.

(Of course, the others do end up finding out. And Stan knows Bill didn’t say anything—at least purposefully—by the shock of his wide eyes and the apologetic gaze he offers Stan when Richie throws the first teasing comment.

Stan figured this would happen honestly, but that doesn’t stop him from rolling his eyes and flipping Richie the bird.

Things don’t change too drastically, even so. Sometimes Richie will tase his sides to steal Stan’s attention away from his books. Sometimes Eddie will poke at his ribs to check if he’s paying attention to his lectures.

Once in a while someone will try to catch him unaware and launch an attack. And sometimes he’ll just—let it happen. Because it’s really not that bad and it can feel nice to laugh with friends—especially when Stan knows he can turn the tables at any moment.

The only thing that does worry him for some time is the thought of someone slipping their hands a little lower than his sides. Call it baby steps, but Stan doesn’t feel quite ready to let that loose in front of a crowd.

But thanks to the fact that Stan’s hipbones are secured safely underneath the band of his pants, a place even Richie wouldn’t venture in his little experiments (if only because of Bill’s glaring), Stan feels sure enough that his secret will stay safe.

As safe as possible, anyways, with Bill already abusing the information.

Because as many times as Stan thinks, and even calls, Bill a monster for using that secret so liberally when they’re alone, Bill will always shoot back, smiling ear to ear, that he’ll stop as soon as Stan asks him to.

And well, behind the lingering smile and buzzing warmth in his stomach, Stan finds himself ignoring the teasing comment and diving right back in to make sure Bill knows the same is true for him too.)

#stenbrough #stanley uris #bill denbrough #stan x bill #bill x stan #it #stenbrough fic #it fic #tickle fic #ticklefic #submission #fic

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gayboy-selfships-archive · 3 years

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It’s Not About the Money Anymore (A Waylon Smithers x Self Insert Fiction) Chapter Three

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The next day, Waylon was expected to arrive before Audrey was even awake. So at four in the morning, after a sleepless night of staring at his microwave, Smithers dragged himself away from the table and into the shower. With the way he sluggishly moved through his morning routine, he was impressed to find that he had made it to the manor in time, that morning's news newspaper in hand. He was once again let into the house by Mrs. Diane who was the one to show him to Audrey’s private quarters.

He quietly slipped into the master bedroom, not quite ready to wake Audrey and fill the atmosphere with an icy chill. He glanced around the room, committing the details to memory. The first thing that caught his eye was a large pile of stuffed animals, some he recognized from when they were kids, their fur matted and worn, their once bright, playful color diminished. But others were new and looked soft to the touch, like they had just been bought yesterday. Waylon continued his gaze to the large bed that contained a very small (at least in comparison) Audrey. Waylon watched Audrey sleep for a long minute, liking their peaceful expression much more than the icy glare he had become accustomed to looking at. He looked so much more like the child he was used to when he was sleeping. Waylon made his way to the window and on his way passed by a desk in the corner of the room. He rolled his eyes, of course Audrey would bring work to his bedroom.

But, upon further inspection, Smithers realized that all the paper on his desk was actually piles upon piles of sketches. He paused, one hand on the curtain, and studied the drawings. He recognized many of the people in the pictures as employees from around the manor and the office. He smiled, Audrey had always loved doodling as a kid, it was nice to know that he hadn't given up on that.

The last thing he noticed was a framed picture, he knew he shouldn’t touch anything but the sight of the picture filled him with such curiosity, he picked it up for closer inspection. He recognized the photograph instantly. Audrey was ten and Waylon was twelve, they were laying in the grass together and playing with Malibu Stacy dolls. They both had wide smiles on their faces, like they had been caught mid laugh. He had remembered his mother had taken the picture and he had pestered her for days asking over and over again when it would be developed. And when his mother finally handed him the photo, he stole the nicest pen he could find from Mr. Burns’ office and in his nicest handwriting wrote, “see you next summer!”

He remembered riding his bike all the way to this very manor, the picture and his most prized Malibu Stacy doll securely in the basket. And he had given them to Audrey as things to remember him by before he went overseas to boarding school.

He had counted the days till summer, often pestering his mom or even Mr. Burns about how long it would be until Audrey returned home. And when that glorious day finally came, he was so happy to finally see his friend again…

Only to be informed that Audrey wouldn’t be home for a very, very long time.

He never saw him again after that. Not until just a few days ago, of course.

“Smithers, did you ever plan on waking me up? Or just on snooping through my things?”

Waylon let out a yelp, nearly jumping out of his skin as he became aware of a very disgruntled Audrey standing behind him. In his fear he let the frame fall to the floor with a soft crack.

“Oh! Mr. Stellaluceat! I’m so sorry. I got distracted.”

Audrey frowned, watching Smithers with an unreadable expression.

“Clearly.” He sighed, bending down to pick up the frame.

Waylon could hear the soft tinkle of broken glass as Audrey gently freed the photograph from the broken frame. His frown deepened as he studied the worn photo, though if he was anything more than slightly bothered, he didn’t show it.

“Smithers, when you go down to fetch my breakfast, please ask one of the maids to bring up a vacuum. Oh, and tell the staff I’ll be having my tea in the blue tea cups today.”

Waylon nodded, “I’m sorry about the frame, sir.”

“No need to worry about it, I can buy a replacement. Though do try and keep your hands to yourself in my bedroom. I keep my most prized possessions in here.”

Waylon nodded, unable to dismiss the gnawing feeling of guilt as he collected Audrey’s breakfast and informed the cleaning staff about the mess upstairs. He felt bad, having a photo that old exposed to the elements could be harmful. Perhaps he could get him a new frame tonight after work. Yes, that would be just the thing. The knot in his stomach eased as he knocked on the bedroom door with Audrey’s breakfast.

“Come in.”

When Waylon stepped inside, he was surprised to see that Audrey wasn’t around.

“Set the food on the desk, I’m in the closet,” came his voice from a door to Waylon's right.

Smithers did what he was told and waited patiently by the desk until Audrey stepped out of his closet. He always felt so silly standing around waiting for his bosses to finish something, he felt like a lackey. Though he supposed that’s exactly what he was.

When Audrey finally stepped out of the closet, it took all of Waylons self control not to let his jaw drop. Like, he had to remember to breathe when he saw what Audrey was wearing. It reminded him of something out of a vampire movie, but not a vampire movie that any straight person would ever put together.

Everything hugged his frame perfectly, from his blood red undershirt, to the grey corset-vest he wore on top of it. His lace up boots led all the way up to his knees and the heels ended up lifting him a good inch taller. Waylon gulped, trying to lower his gaze away from his boss but his eyes only ended up caught on his thighs.

“Smithers?”

“Oh! Um, yes?” Pull yourself together man!

“I asked if you told a maid to bring up a vacuum?”

“Yes, sir.”

Audrey nodded approvingly and turned to his breakfast, leaving Waylon to scold himself for getting carried away so easily. Though he supposed it was bound to happen when he sexually repressed himself for years on end, pining after a man who barely saw him as human.

“Smithers? Have you eaten breakfast yet?” Audrey asked, scooping an egg onto a piece of toast, “Who am I kidding, you look like you haven’t eaten a real meal in eons, here.”

He handed him the toast, not giving him much of an option, not that Waylon minded. The food smelled amazing and well, he hadn’t had breakfast. He ate everything that was handed to him, which earned him a smile from Audrey.

“I’d prefer it if you took care of yourself. If it means I have to feed you myself so be it.”

“Well, I appreciate it, sir.”

“It’s no problem. I can’t have my assistant collapsing on me.”

Audrey shot a glance at his watch and sighed.

“Come on, we have to be in the boardroom in thirty.”

And with that they left, side by side.

The rest of the day was busy, but it went by in a blur for Waylon. All he could think about was, even if it was in his own little way, Audrey still cared about him.

#self ship #Selfshipping #Self Insert #self ship community #f/o: nuclear power couple

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ordersreality · 4 years

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Crossroads

Ekúi, still sore from the swim and weary from the medication, decided to stay at home, that night. After all, he hadn’t been invited and his big brother can always fill him in, later.

The first thing Second Class Petty Officer Kirk Samuel Hicks, the Coast Guard Instructor, said when Cull got there was, “Go ahead and tie the dog outside. We won’t have room for him.”

Azif reluctantly agreed to play along.

Just in time to hear his name taken in the role call. “Azif i-Sabba? Sounds Iranian, you a terrorist son?”

“Yezidi, Sir, and a terror only to my vitals, Sir.”

“Yezidi? Never heard of them!”

“Must be because you do not listen, can we get on with the class, Sir?”

He called on “Colin Ironwode? What kind of fool name is that?” Then with a little more volume, “Ironwode!?”

The teen opened the door, “Does that mean the ‘dog’ can join the class now?”

“Wait, ‘you’ are Trainee Colin Ironwode?”

“Intern, Son, and yes. And that is ‘iron wood, not iron wad; it’s a weed, not a spit ball, Khurg.”

About that time Captain Madoc stepped to the door, and not realizing the mess that was just made, “Ironwode, what the hell are you blocking the door for?”

“Sorry Captain, I’m tied up for the moment. Still waiting on the Little Officer to let me play with his toys.”

His crew mates thought that was just a little too much, but contained the giggling rather well.

Madoc was still not amused. He opened the door he swept his hand to wave xer in.

Cull grabbed a blue plastic, butt-slider chair at the back, turned it around, and climbed in as best xe could.

Meanwhile, Hicks just had to ask, “Why didn’t you tell me you were signed up for this class?”

“Why did you ass-u-me I wasn’t? You did not even ask, just commanded I be tied up. A fetish of yours, Mate?”

“But, your not hu-,” the man gestured at the body in that blue chair, trying to make sense of what was going on, sputtering, badly.

While Cull patiently waited for the ignition, Hicks went onto the next name on the list, with better courtesy, now that the good Captain was present.

This was followed by what even Madoc thought was a boring rendering of Coast Guard History, skipping over the less popular events like turning the fleet into engines of war during every major military event. Cull had taken to writing one of those Drheigr nursery rhymes when Hicks passed down the isles handing out a booklet.

Cull just couldn’t figure if the man was afraid he wouldn’t have enough, or if someone would get more than their share. The Petty Officer grabbed the doodle and demanded, “What the hell is this?” Without waiting for an answer, “Not in my class!” While the dragon-skinned teen was repressing a growl, “Put that away, you won’t need it here.”

“Um, put what away?”

Tapping the Input Recorder, “That cell-phone, you won’t need it.”

“Khurg, that ‘thing’ is anchored to my skull. It isn’t going anywhere I am not.”

The instructor moved to take it when Madoc barked, “Leave it, Petty Officer!”

“But, Sir,” the Petty Officer whined, “the class, what if it rings!?”

Cull simply grunted, and offered, “It is not a cell-phone. If it rings, I’m the only one who would hear it. Can we focus on the class, Khurg, or can I go home and get some …?”

“… Ironwode!” Madoc barked. “Hicks, either teach the class or get out of my way so I can do it!”

Much subdued and clearly chastised, the Coast Guard Petty Officer continued to distribute his booklet to the rhythm of pages being turned. Though angered by the act without permission, he held his tongue.

When he returned to the front, Hicks asked, “What are the three most important components to an investigation, anyone?”

The seconds ticked on, again to the sounds of pages being turned, without a single volunteer. Feeling somewhat responsible for the silence, Cull raised a winged hand.

Reluctantly, owing mostly to the lack of participation from the thirty-two students before him, he pointed.

“First, blood, sweat, and tears, ninety-percent: then educated and talented deductive reasoning, eight-percent: finally, Anomalous Thought Entities, three-percent.”

“That does not add up, um, Son.” When no explanation was forthcoming, “So, what are ‘Anomalous Thought Entities’?”

“Ideas, hunches, connections, sudden bursts of inspiration, wild-ass chains of reasoning, knowing something without knowing how you come to know it, that sort of thing.”

“And you think it’s that important?”

Shrugging, “It helps.”

“I have never heard of someone relying on ‘hunches’ as a major part of the investigation.”

“Um, my 101% might be a bit fuzzy, but how is ‘three-percent’ a ‘majority’?”

“Tell me, ‘Cull’, how much field experience do you actually have?”

“You mean with the Authority? I don’t know, counting …, wait, is this paid time?”

“Just answer the question!”

“Thirty-two-and-a-half hours, give or take. That would not be counting the times I spent on paleontological digs with my uncle.”

“Thirty-two-and-a-half hours, give or take? Well, I have you know, after eighteen years in the First Fleet I have never entertained a single hunch. Pure science young, um, is it man or woman?”

“Imán, Khurg.” The look of confusion, though entertaining, dispelled any further explanation. “Choose one that entertains you the most, and go with it. I do.”

Then plowing into the ensuing silence, “Petty Officer, after eighteen years you should know that pure science includes both a recognition of ourselves as part of the subject of observations, as well as the knowledge of how very little we really know. I’ve seen people digging in the dirt for hours only to get dirty. And someone accidentally digs where they weren’t supposed to because they thought they saw something, and ‘Dingo!’ a prize in minutes. I’ve also seen someone ignore those hunches and get very hurt. Now, if you don’t mind, I will trust my nearly seventeen years of life experience over your mindless service to our country, any day.”

“Captain, do I have to tolerate this insolence? If he were in the Coast Guard….”

“…I think you would be in chains, Sir. You came to this class with insolence on your tongue. Azif has done nothing to you and yet you call him a terrorist? In a world where that could get him in a lot of hot water? Extraordinary rendition mean anything to you? Pinochet maybe? I don’t even care that you call me a dog, make fun of my name, but he’s my crew mate. I wonder if you even have any friends, Khurg!”

“Captain!?” When Madoc didn’t say anything, “Tell me this, have you ever had a single ‘hunch’ pay off?”

“Just this last Saturday,” Azif replied. “Xe saved a child’s life with it, Sir.”

“What? I don’t get that, how could she have saved a child’s life with a stupid hunch?”

“Story, Petty Officer,” Cull went forward, “the parts that are up for public consumption, that is. I’m floating up there, getting a workout because the ceiling winds are pretty disorganized at the time. I drop down a bit to get some rest and I smell petrol burning. Knowing what I do about the winds I try to follow the smell with my mind as best I can, leading to the discovery of low lying, whitish smoke accented with a taste of black. I fly over there to investigate and notice the boat had already sunk, and a man swimming for Mazatla Peninsula. I’m in contact with my skipper and alert him to my findings. But, I find I am entirely too interested in the sinking boat, and decide to learn why—the singular Anomalous Thought Entity in my equation. The schooner is sinking slowly, nose up, natural I guess if there is still air caught in it. So I open a locked hatch, swim up inside, and there is this little, maybe seven-year-old boy, frightened, feeling very unloved. He says his daddy’s angry with him, I ask where his daddy is, get him to come with me, and learn his dad is now arrested. So, I suppose that ‘one’ hunch saved a boy’s life and lead to a criminal investigation.”

Madoc added, “Not to mention, there were barbiturates in the boy’s stomach. His inhaler was fighting them off. Cull thought enough to grab a baggy and collect the evidence before the fish did.”

“That was just an act of due diligence, Sir, not a hunch.”

“And where were you when you heard the explosion?”

“I don’t know that there was one. I was 33 fathoms over Elephant Island.”

“There wasn’t, just fire,” Madoc added.

“So, how did you learn of it?”

“Okay, let me replay what I said so I know I said it; yes, yes-yes, okay, yes, right after the upper atmosphere turbulence, I told you I smelled the petroleum burning.”

“You must have some pretty special talents to have been made part of the service. Where do you hail from, son?”

Somewhere in the distance a phone rang.

“My mother. Tell me, Second Class PO, eighteen years, and only an E5?”

“Um, nothing to worry about.”

“Good, can we get on with the class? I have some personal training in a few hours and would like some rest before then? We are supposed to be discussing ‘Coast Guard Forensic Procedures,’ not airing your personal issues out.”

The Captain’s personal phone rang, quietly.

The Petty Officer barked, “See, that phone rang!”

Ignoring the charge, “Cull, there is a problem we could use your help with.”

“What and where?”

“Lincoln Street Bridge, the top of the south pillar, a man looks like he might jump. They want us there to collect if he does.”

“Let them know I’m on my way. What frequency?”

“Em-4. What are you waiting for?”

“Sir, only one of us is passing through that door; right, thanks.”

Out, down, and up, Cull found the warm night air a bit thin, but usable.

Madoc simply added, “Class dismissed, Petty Officer, you are on report.”

“What?”

“You spent three quarters of your valuable class time—which is supposed to contributed to these people’s certification—on anything but the subject you were sent to teach. Azif, did he insult you? There, the very reason you are still only a Petty Officer.”

“Well, he kept calling me Khurg, it’s Kirk.”

Greg, who was carrying a heavy load toward the dry-dock, followed by am orc carrying a heavier load, “That would be orchish, mister, means ‘dog’. Did he say it kindly or cruelly?”

· • º • ·

#Forensics #Fiction #Tolkien for the Modern World

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inevitably-johnlocked · 6 years

Note

hey, could you maybe repost your list of virgin-sherlock fics? and which ones would you recommend especially. thank you.:)

Hi Nonny! I’m actually currently going through my recs because I knew that this would come up one day! Here’s what I have on it so far; I’ll star my personal faves that you MUST read!

Gigantic by BubbleGumLizard (E, 2,135 w. || PWP, Size Kink) – John seems to avoid Sherlock seeing him naked. Sherlock wants to fix that. This is porn. Part 19 of Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015

What He’s Like by magikspell (E, 2,919 w. || Love Confessions, Fluff, First Time, Inexperienced Sherlock) – Realistic first time. They love each other so much. [FAVE!]

Affirmation by jamlockk (E, 3,096 w. || First Time, Dev. Rel., PWP, Love Declarations, Emotional Sherlock, Comforting John, Gross Fluff) – “Sunlight dappled John’s skin, casting a glow across his spreadeagled form as he dozed among the rumpled sheets. Sherlock knew the expression on his face was hopelessly soft but for once did not care about showing his true feelings so openly. He simply stood there, in the doorway, gazing at the impossibly beautiful man currently snuffling softly in his slumber.“ Part 8 of All the ways we love

Well Begun Is Half Done by Avice (E, 3,897 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Anal/Oral, Seduction, John in Charge, Pining Sherlock, John’s Penis, Bottomlock) – Sherlock is putting together an elaborate plan of seducing John. John grows tired of waiting and takes matters into his own hands.

One Day Like This by nondeducible (E, 4,872 w. || First Time, Bed-Sharing, Romance, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock) – When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, the sight before him nearly took his breath away. The only light in the room was the small lamp on the bedside table. John’s skin shone like gold, his hair like the purest silver. He was on his side, facing the empty part of the bed, his outstretched hands ready to embrace whoever climbed in next to him. Sherlock could imagine, just for a second, that this was their shared bed and he was coming back to settle into John’s arms.

A Study in Intimacy by doodle (T, 5,183 w.|| First Time, Romance, Virginity, First Kiss) – People don’t touch Sherlock Holmes, not like they touch other people. Then he meets John Watson.

Strings by EstherShapiro (E, 5,267 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Massage, Friends to Lovers, Fingering, Anal, PWP) – Sherlock wakes his doctor up. Was this weird? John was sitting on his bed, late at night, rubbing his hands over another man’s body? That was supposed to be weird, right? Then again, this wasn’t just some man, it was Sherlock. They were so used to each other that John didn’t even think to question it. It wasn’t weird.

Tease You Till You Come by phoenix089 (E, 6,090 w. || First Time, Clueless Sherlock, Texting) – Initially, Sherlock was rather put out by John’s lack of presence on the case. But then he starts to recieve pictures, several of them, of an unexpected nature. The case is forgotten rather quickly after that.

The Effect of Memory by testosterone_tea (E, 6,430 || Praise Kink, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Smut, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Confused Sherlock) – John has temporary amnesia coming off of anaesthesia after an operation and not only does he not recognize Sherlock, he starts flirting with him! After John recovers, he doesn’t remember the incident at all. But Sherlock does. Confusion ensues.

Inside by magikspell (E, 6,757 w. || Loss of Virginity, Anal / Rimming, Fluff, Humour, Awkwardness, Shy Sherlock, Bottomlock) – "Being inside someone. Feeling someone inside you.”

The space between by Salambo06 (E, 6,830 w. || PWP, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Miscommunications, Bottom Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Sexual Fantasy) – “It’s for a case,” Sherlock says as soon as John looks down at his computer. John remains silent for a long moment, eyes moving from the screen to Sherlock, before saying, “You don’t have to explain.” His voice is low, too low, and Sherlock looks at the computer, putting the video on pause. “Lestrade asked me-, no, forced me to find out who’s threatening a famous porn star, and the suspect is among his co-stars, so I only need to watch out for any signs from his partners, anything that might show they’re the one sending those threats and I can move to something else.” “Right.”

Drive by lifeonmars (M, 9,537 w. || Virginity, Awkward First Times, Minor Injuries) – John and Sherlock are stranded by the roadside, and John is injured. They need to spend the night in the back of a humvee. Sherlock is confused. John is understanding. [FAVE!]

Paparazzi by SilentAuror (E, 10,543 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Post S3) – John moves back into 221B Baker Street after his marriage falls apart and the paparazzi won’t leave him and Sherlock alone about the status of their supposed relationship. Sherlock, of course, never denies it, until one day he does…

The Thin Line by Odamaki (M, 10,809 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Confessions, First Times, Anal) – John swallows. Keeps his eyes on Sherlock. Begs him not to ruin him.Sherlock leans forward over the witness box ever-so slightly, “I was distracted,” he informs the court, “by my partner, John Watson.”

Praise Me by testosterone_tea (E, 11,813 w. || Sherlock POV, Bottomlock, Dev. Rel., Virgin Sherlock, First Kiss / TimeBJ’s, Anal, Praise Kink) – In which Sherlock has an interesting physical reaction to compliments and John discovers it.

Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Missing Christmas Spirit by SilentAuror (M, 15,002 w. || Christmas, Domesticity, Post S3, Happy Ending) – John hates Christmas. So does Sherlock, but he suggests that they do Christmas "properly” this year to see if they can’t track down its elusive magic and discover for themselves what Christmas is supposed to be about. [FAVE!!!]

In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there. [FAVE!]

For you, there’s only me by shock_blanket (E, 19,557 w. || Jealous Idiots, Virgin Sherlock, UST/RST, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss / Time, Insecure Sherlock, Masturbation) – Sherlock realizes he has fallen in love with John, but believes he is unlovable. Cue lots of pining and jealousy on Sherlock’s part, followed by our favorite cuddly marksman making it all better. Because for Sherlock, there’s only John. [FAVE!]

At the Heart of it All by SilentAuror (E, 19,812 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Post S3, POV John, Domestics, First Time, Kissing, Romance) – John has been back at Baker Street for four months now and thinks it’s about time they had the Talk to see whether or not they could be more than friends. Sherlock has a lot of uncertainty about this concept for multiple reasons. Unabashed romance.

Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?) [FAVE, MUST READ!]

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w. || Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen. [FAVE!]

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John’s POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Wrong Wagon by DancingGrimm (E, 35,663 w. || Alternating POV, MollyxJohn [Molly pines for John], Public Sex, Casual Sex, Obliviousness, BAMF!John, Awkwardness, Angst & Humour, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Molly sees John in a new light and realises that she may have hitched her horse to the wrong wagon…or something like that. John pines for Sherlock and worries what he will think if he ever finds out. And Sherlock doesn’t know what Molly’s up to…but he knows he doesn’t like it.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him. [FAVE FAVE FAVE! MUST READ!!]

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary’s betrayal and Sherlock’s deceptions.

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – “Do you just carry on talking when I’m away?”

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #virgin sherlock #virginlock #Anonymous #my fic recs

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royalfoxfics · 7 years

Photo

Art by Twin Doodles

Ao3

FF.net

In which Pollen meets the 21st century, there is a lot of yelling, and repressed homosexuality overrides self-preservation.

“…loe? Chloe? Chloe?”

Chloe woke up with a start. Someone was calling her name and shaking her shoulder. She tried to move but her whole body felt sluggish. Every part of her felt uncomfortably cold and heavy. Her legs felt like they were tied together, and while she wanted to open her eyes, only one of them seemed to be working properly. When she did manage to will it open, she was blinded by a bright light overhead. Squinting, she could just make out a dark shadow looming over her. She clumsily tried to bat it away with her numbed and heavy arms.

“Whoa, calm down its only me,” the shadow said. She blinked a few times and the face of Adrien Agreste swam into view.

“Adrien? What happened? Where am…” She looked around and recognized the school nurse’s office. She looked down and saw the bandages partially mummifying her and holding the now melted icepacks to her shivering body.

“You’ve been in here all morning. It’s already time for lunch,” Adrien explained, helping her to sit up. “I came to check on you and passed the nurse on her way out. She said you were sleeping, and to wake you at my own risk. Looks like you were pretty tired.”

“Get this stuff off me,” Chloe ordered, already trying to rip off the bandages holding the icepack over her eye.

“I don’t know, Chloe. Maybe you should leave that stuff on? I mean if the nurse thought it was necessary-“

He stopped when he saw the one-eyed glare Chloe was giving him and quickly began working on the bandages wound about her legs.

Once Chloe was unwrapped, she began stretching out and rubbing her limbs in an attempt to get the feeling back in them.

“I swear I’m going to sue this whole school if I get frostbite,” she muttered, rubbing her legs furiously and grimacing at the wet patches the ice packs had left. “And if these pants are ruined…”

“I’d think you’d be more concerned with your eye,” Adrien commented. “It still looks pretty bad. What did you do last night? You were fine when I left you.”

Chloe glared at her purse.

“The little gift you gave me got opened early by accident. Turns out our royal majesty thinks they’re too good to be partnered with a mere mayor’s daughter.”

“A corrupt mayor’s daughter,” Pollen called from inside the purse.

A second later they flew out through the white leather lining as if it were made of smoke. Chloe’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“You? How? Since when could you do that!?” she demanded, pointing at the smugly smiling Pollen.

“Oh, we Kwami’s are capable of much you humans would consider ‘impossible.’ When we’re properly fed that is,” Pollen added, under their breath. “Speaking of which, you must be Plagg’s chosen. I can smell that horrible cheese on you from here. You have my deepest sympathies.”

Plagg flew out from Adrien’s shirt a second later.

“Pollen.” He greeted the other Kwami friendly enough, though there was a slight edge to his voice. “Haven’t seen you for a couple of centuries. Were you asleep so long you forgot that were not supposed to hurt our own masters?”

Pollen at least had the grace to look ashamed.

“It was purely in self-defense,” they argued, crossing their little arms and giving that wretched air of superiority Chloe hated so much.

“Oh yeah,” Plagg mockingly agreed, flying up to Chloe and looking her over. “I can see why the Kwami of Leadership would need to defend themself against the mean, scawy teenage girl.”

Chloe smiled as she saw the fluff on Pollens chest begin to swell up with indignation.

“I’ll have you know, We were at a grievous disadvantage against that barbarian!” they exclaimed, gesturing at Chloe. “We awoke without any idea of where We were, or what year it was, and We were extremely weak! We were captured in some insidious trap for hours until We were viciously attacked, completely unprovoked We might add, by that ruffian over there!”

“They got stuck in a box of tissues because they thought it was a bed, and I threw a pillow at it when it started flying around,” Chloe summarized.

Adrien fought to keep down his smile while Plagg openly laughed at Pollen, who’s fluff was threatening to swallow the lower half of their face.

“To be fair,” Adrien said, “Plagg tried eating half my room when he first woke up.”

“Did he also spend five minutes hiding under a tea cup from the TV?” Chloe asked.

“How were We supposed to know that the small man in that window could not see us!?”

Plagg laughed even harder and rolled onto his back in midair, tiny tears forming in his eyes.

“And let’s not forget the little adventure you had with my makeup case this morning…”

“You are most fortunate We discovered how toxic that powder was before you put it on your face! You owe your life to Us!”

Chloe rolled her eyes as Plagg continued to laugh and kicked his feet as he tried to remain hovering. Pollen looked like they were about to explode in a cloud of angry white fluff, so Chloe gave them a smug smile.

“Well, as fascinating as this conversation is, I’m sure you and Plagg have loads to catch up on,” Adrien said quickly. “Why don’t you two go somewhere else for a bit while I have a word with Chloe?”

Pollen scoffed and turned their nose up at Adrien, but Plagg regained some control over himself (eventually,) and led Pollen through the thin sheet separating the beds, wiping his eyes as they went. When they were gone Adrien turned back to Chloe.

“Chloe, I am so sorry. I had no idea he, er, she,”

“They, prefer the royal ‘We,” Chloe said, striking her own regal speaking pose. “Apparently, that little bug thinks they’re the literal embodiment of royalty. Everybody and everything is beneath them. I let them read my history book last night instead of just sealing them back in their box, and the ungrateful brat kept waking me up to ask where some missing pages were! And again to ask if I had the book in Latin, because they liked the shape of the letters more!”

“Huh,” was all Adrien could think to say.

Chloe just groaned and continued.

“I swear, nothing is worth this. I ordered some extra honey with my breakfast this morning, ‘cause I figured ‘hey, bees like honey’ right? You know what they did? They called me a racist and chewed me out for nearly fifteen minutes until I ordered them some tea. Tea, Adrian! How was I supposed to know that thing ran exclusively on tea?”

“Better than smelly cheese,” Adrien muttered.

“I just…”

Chloe picked up a pillow and screamed into it. Adrien cautiously rubbed small circles on her back as she continued to scream for a surprisingly long time. When she was done, she sat back up and handed the pillow to Adrien. Adrien took the pillow uncertainly and set it down next to him. Chloe took a deep breath and checked her hair.

“I’m a bit stressed out, Adrien,” she said finally.

“I… wouldn’t have guessed.”

She shot him an unamused look.

Then she closed her eyes and sighed. She still looked tired, but at least the bags under her eyes had disappeared. Well, from one of them anyway.

She reached up and pulled out the comb, undoing her ponytail and letting her hair fall loose against her back.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to have this,” she confided, looking down at the comb as she held it in her open hand. “Everything went to hell the moment I touched it. I’m not supposed to have a miraculous. Even the kayami of the thing thinks so.”

Adrien reached over and closed her hand around the miraculous. She looked up and saw him smiling softly at her.

“It’s pronounced ‘Kwami,” he said, gently. “And I wouldn’t worry too much. I didn’t really get along with Plagg at first either.”

“Oh? I don’t remember you ever showing up with one of these.”

Chloe pointed to her face and Adrien winced.

“Well… No. And I’m super sorry, Chloe. I had no idea Kwami’s could hurt people like that.”

Chloe scoffed.

“I told you, the black eye is from falling through my closet door. You should have seen the bee stings I was covered in last night, though...”

“Bee stings?” Adrien repeated, completely shocked.

Chloe just waved him away dismissively.

“I’m fine,” she said again. “I’m just sleeping with a flyswatter under my pillow tonight.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced back at him and felt her chest lurch at the big watery green eyes looking back at her.

“I didn’t mean for you to… I’m so sorry I… I didn’t mean…”

Chloe sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling him into a hug and patting his back before he started bawling his eyes out with guilt. He held on to her and tried to fight back his tears.

“I told you, it’s all right,” she repeated, patting his back and silently hoping he didn’t get any snot on her shirt. “It’s my fault for opening the box. I should have waited till today like you said too. It’s okay… you big baby.”

“I’m a hero of Paris,” he said back through a stuffy nose. He quickly pulled back and started to wipe his eyes indignantly. Chloe handed him the box of commoner’s tissues next to her and he took a few quickly.

“How did you ever get by without me?” Chloe wondered aloud as Adrian blew his nose.

“Very stoically,” he snapped.

Then he added,

“…and lots of cartoons.”

“Ah,” Chloe acknowledged, nodding her head. “That explains a lot actually.”

Before Adrien could ask what she meant by that, Plagg called to them from the other room.

“Uh, Kids? I think you better come see this.”

Adrien pulled back the curtain and they saw Plagg and Pollen hovering in front of a mounted television near the nurse’s desk. It was tuned in to the local news, which was showing a scene of chaos as a swarm of oddly shaped… somethings were rampaging their way through the nearby park.

“I didn’t do it this time,” Chloe said immediately.

Adrien just rolled his eyes and turned up the volume on the TV.

“This is Reporter Nadja Charmack: TVi, live on the scene at Palace De Vogses where the newest Akuma attack is in progress. Eye witnesses have so far been unable to identify the Akuma’s target, or identity due to-AAAAAAAAA!“

Award winning Reporter Nadja Carmack suddenly screamed and the camera whipped around to show her beating back what must have been some of the Akuma’s minions with her microphone. They didn’t look human. Some of them may have looked vaguely humanlike, but their bodies were far to flat looking, and their maniacal faces and clothes seemed to have been drawn onto them with some sort of thick ink. Most of them were just various shapes with stick figure limbs poking out, and faces pulled out of a demented children’s drawing. One looked like a flat circle wielding a wooden spoon. Another like a gibbering crescent waving a spatula in the air like a sword, and there were several long, rounded beasties running around on all fours that were constantly frothing at the mouth. They almost looked like…

“Are… are those monstrous pastries?” Pollen asked, flying up to closely examine the screen.

“Sure looks like it,” Adrien agreed.

Chloe scoffed.

“A bit out of season for gingerbread men though, don’t you think?” she asked.

No sooner had she spoken, then the cameraman was overpowered by a particularly deranged looking three foot gingerbread man, complete with swirls for eyes drawn on with animatedly spinning icing. The cameraman gave a cry of surprise, and after a very quick zoom in on the gingerbread man’s sugary pointed teeth, the live feed went dead. The screen was filled with static for a moment before the “technical difficulties” sign went up. The screen switched cameras to the news anchor as he was complaining about the coffee in his mug having no cream.

“Well, looks like lunch will have to wait till after we finish off dessert,” Adrien said, switching off the TV as the anchor realized he was on air.

Adrien turned and gave Chloe his best Chat Noir smirk. Chloe rolled her eyes at him.

“Shouldn’t you be doing your little dance already?”

Adrien stepped back and gave Chloe a little bow with a sweep of his hand.

“Ladies first.”

Chloe blinked in surprise.

“Wait you… You want me to go out there and fight those things?”

“What?” Pollen asked, turning back around from their attempts at trying to find where the small man in the window had gone.

“Well, not by yourself,” Adrien assured Chloe. “Ladybug and I will be right there with you. We’ll handle the Akuma, you can focus on dealing with the minions.

“Adrien, do I really look like I’m ready to get into a fight with a bunch of evil edibles?”

Chloe gestured to her black eye again.

“Come on kid, small annoying pests should be your specialty by now,” Plagg countered.

“What was that?” Pollen gave him a dangerous look.

“It’ll be easy, Chloe. Even if you get hit, you’ll hardly feel a thing under your suit. I’ve been thrown into a wall before, and it didn’t leave a scratch on me,” Adrien boasted.

Plagg wilted a bit and added,

“Yeah, I’d recommend you try not to do that though…”

Chloe shook her head in disbelief.

“You can’t seriously expect me to go up against a real Akuma my first time!”

“Why not? I did!” Adrien replied with a smile.

“Yeah, and I remember exactly how well that went!” Chloe argued, rolling her eyes.

Adrien rubbed his neck uncomfortably, but Plagg wasn’t dissuaded so easily.

“Exactly,” he said, flying around to hover close to Chloe’s shoulder. “So maybe this time, you’ll be the one that rescues the pretty girl from certain death.”

Chloe’s eyes lit up like Sapphic little stars.

Seeing this, Pollen immediately flew to her other shoulder and began trying to talk sense into her.

“What? No, no, no. You are much to injured to go fighting the forces of evil today. Besides We… We have not had any sustenance since this morning! We could not possibly hold a transformation for longer than a few seconds at most.”

“Don’t listen to that royal stick in the mud,” Plagg practically purred in her ear. “They’ve got more than enough juice. You should be thinking about what it’ll be like to be in Ladybugs shoes for once. How it’ll feel to sweep your damsel in distress off her feet and fly her away to safety. Feel her snuggled safe in your arms as she looks up at you like you’re her hero. Maybe she’ll even want to show you how appreciative she really is.”

“You… You can’t seriously be listening to this smelly little varmint!?”

But Chloe was listening. In fact, she was staring down a the miraculous she was holding and nearly drooling over it. She turned to Pollen with a doofy smile on her face.

“W-well I mean, I’m sure we can handle a couple of overgrown cupcakes, right?”

Chloe smiled at them while she giggled and played with her hair. Pollen stared at her. Plagg gave them a smug grin and flew back to Adrien. Adrien gave him an impressed, but questioning look.

“What?” Plagg asked with poorly feigned innocence.

Adrien just shook his head and turned back to Chloe. She still looked a little dreamy over the potential possibilities Plagg had laid out for her. Adrien cleared his throat and she snapped out of her daydreaming. She shook her head, and he tried not to notice the deep blush that covered most of her face.

“Right, well. Uh…”

She cleared her own throat and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Stepping over to a mirror to check how it looked, she stuck the comb back in and turned around to face the group. She took a deep breath, and exhaled quickly.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

She smiled at them. A little nervously, but Adrien and Plagg reassured them with smiles of their own.

Pollen however was still hovering in midair, and still staring at the spot where Chloe’s head had been.

“Um… Pollen? Pollen?”

They gave no sign that they had heard her. Chloe looked from them to the other two who both shrugged unhelpfully. She approached Pollen carefully and waved a hand in front of them. Pollen still gave no sign of awareness, so Chloe tried snapping her fingers directly in front of their face. The Kwami finally seemed to regain their senses, and shook their head as if coming out of a trance. Just like every other time they had become lost in their own world, Pollen looked around the room as though not sure where they were until they saw Chloe. Their eyes narrowed angrily at the sight of her.

“What? Why are you always staring at us like that? We do not like it, it makes us feel very uncomfortable.”

“Are you… feeling okay?” Chloe asked carefully.

Pollen scoffed and turned their nose up at her again.

“We are as fine as We can be with a gangly ape like you as our master.”

“Why you little-”

“Whoa, hey!” Adrien quickly moved himself between the two of them, nearly having to physically hold Chloe back from attacking what was supposed to have been her partner. “How about we all just take it down a notch, okay?”

Chloe fumed and ground her teeth as she looked from Pollen to Adrien.

“You see what they’re like? You see what that thing is like?” she demanded, pointing furiously at Pollen.

Adrien did his best to calm her down, though he shot Pollen an angry look showing he completely agreed with her. Pollen just scoffed and turned their nose up at him too.

“Shouldn’t you be seeing to that Akuma, Chat Noir?”

Adrien didn’t much care for the way Pollen said his name, but they had a point. They couldn’t afford to waste time fighting like this. Ladybug was probably already on her way, and while he was sure she’d be okay on her own for a little while, she couldn’t take down an Akuma with that many minions on her own. He looked desperately at Plagg for help. He shrugged.

“Ehe, I’m sure Ladybug can take care of it.”

Adrien briefly considered just handing Chloe a nearby clipboard and getting one for himself.

“Errr, we don’t have time for this!” Chloe roared.

With a grunt of anger, she pushed Adrien away, causing him to topple safely onto the bed behind him, and stormed over to Pollen. The Kwami seemed momentarily unable to decide between fight or flight, and Chloe took advantage of their indecision to grab them sharply by the fluff on their chest with her index finger and thumb. She locked eyes with her trapped prey, and Pollen was so taken aback by the raw fury that burned in them, they forgot to scoff.

“Start talking,” Chloe growled down at them. “Or I will feed you to an industrial grade food processor.”

Pollen had no idea what an “industrial grade food processor” was, but some threats simply transcended a minor generational gap like two hundred years.

“V-very well!” Pollen conceded, attempting to wriggle free. Though certainly not because they were the least bit intimidated. “Just unhand us already!”

Chloe let go and Pollen flew back several feet into the wall. Chloe put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently as Pollen muttered to themself and tried to fix the tuft of fluff she had matted together. Adrien remained where he had landed on the bed, not daring to move and looking from Chloe to Plagg, who was nonchalantly drifting behind a curtain to get out of sight.

Chloe’s patience was at its’ end.

“Well?”

“Just a moment!” Pollen snapped back. They finished preening themself to a semi-passable state, then turned to glare back at Chloe.

“As We have no means of preventing you, very well. We shall now begin our lesson on the art that is wielding our miraculous.”

“Come on, make it snappy!” Chloe demanded, snapping her own fingers at Pollen. “We don’t have all day here.”

Pollen looked like they were about to say something, but stopped and only glared at Chloe for a moment instead. Then they continued.

“The first step to using a miraculous, is to wear it,” Pollen emphasized.

Chloe turned her head and indicated the comb holding her ponytail in place.

“Already wearing it, genius. Next?”

Pollen looked momentarily confused before quickly putting their nose in the air again.

“Yes… Well. Indeed you are.” They gave a little cough and continued. “Each miraculous is activated by a particular phrase decided upon by the Kwami. You will need to repeat this phrase in order to let us fuse with the miraculous and grant you your abilities.”

Chloe closed her eyes and waved her hand dismissively.

“Yeah yeah, I do a little dance and strike a dramatic pose at the end. I saw all this last night when Chat Noir did it. Just tell me what my catch phrase is already.”

“Your… Your what?”

“What do I say to transform!?” Chloe yelled.

“Do not rush us!” Pollen screamed back. “Once a Kwami is fused with its’ miraculous they cannot communicate with their barer directly. You will be completely on your own once We have been absorbed, so you had best listen closely and stop interrupting!”

“They actually have a point, Chloe.”

Chloe turned and rounded on Adrien, who froze as he was starting to sit up on the bed. She closed her eyes and let out an aggravated sigh, not wanting to take out her anger on him.

Adrien watched her closely for a second before daring to continue getting up.

“I’m just speaking from experience here. I waisted my first Cataclysm because I transformed before Plagg had explained everything. At least hear what your powers are before we head out.”

“Thank you, young man.” Pollen nodded gratefully towards Adrien.

“Alright fine!”

Chloe threw up her hands and sat down on the edge of the other bed in a huff. Pollen smiled at the sight.

“Now as We were saying, in addition to the more specific abilities We grant you, using a miraculous will also offer you some additional advantages,” they told her, but Chloe cut them off again.

“I’ll have enhanced speed, strength, endurance, and coordination. The suit will protect me from any minor injuries, even on my face where it looks like bare skin. My weapon will have multiple uses and will obey my commands perfectly unless it’s knocked away from me. I activate my superpower by saying its’ name, and once I use it I’ll only have about five minutes left of my transformation. The miraculous will count down to show me how long I have left.”

Everyone stared at Chloe as she finished. When she saw the stunned look Pollen was giving her she smugly added,

“What? I think I’ve been rescued enough times to know how it works.”

“True,” Adrien agreed. “But I also recognize most of that from Alya’s ‘Miraculous Analysis’ post on the Ladyblog.”

Chloe reddened again.

“Cesaire got most of that from her interview with me anyway!”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh what-ever.” Chloe crossed her arms again and focused back on Pollen to avoid looking at the knowing smirk Adrien was giving her. “So what’s my superpower?”

Pollen looked up, startled before they could drift off again.

“What? Oh, your power? Yes. Uhm. Give us a moment…”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Come on hurry up already!”

“I told you not to interrupt!” Pollen snapped. “Now you’ve gotten us all flustered.”

Chloe buried her face in her hands and groaned. Adrien rubbed her back and looked pleadingly over to Plagg.

Plagg groaned too and rolled his eyes.

“Come on. The kid’s right, we gotta go.”

“We are aware,” they snapped.

Pollen’s face was contorted with concentration. Plagg straightened up and watched them with new interest.

“Wait… do you… Do you actually not remember how to use your own superpower?”

“Of course We remember, you smelly rat! We just… It has been a while and We….”

Chloe looked up at Pollen, and then back to Adrian and Plagg.

“Pollen?” She asked, impatiently.

“We know…” they grumbled.

“Are you seriously telling me you’ve been so busy stuffing your face with tee, and getting scared by makeup kits you haven’t even tried to remember how to be a superhero!”

“We have been thinking of little else!” they roared back.

Chloe stood up to look the Kwami eye to eye. Adrien tried to get her to sit down again but she shook him off.

“So what have you remembered?”

Pollen went silent and turned to look at a blank wall.”

“Pollen!”

“We are the Kwami of Leadership, and We enjoy tea..”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Great. What about how to use your superpower?”

“…We would appear to be having some difficulty recalling the… exact phrasing, at this moment.”

Chloe slapped a hand to her face and groaned. Adrien made to say something but she held up a hand. Chloe took a deep, calming breath and tried to relax.

“Fine. Let’s… work backwards then, maybe it’ll help you remember.”

“Very well,” Pollen said flatly, still keeping their eyes on the wall.

“Okay, well, what does it do?”

“What does what do?” Pollen asked, turning a little further away from Chloe...

“Your superpower,” Chloe repeated, feeling a vain in her head beginning to throb. “What does it do?”

“Something… super. And powerful.”

“…Pollen, look at me.”

The Kwami turned slowly in midair to face her. Their face was a mask of perfect neutrality, though their antenna seemed to be trying to curl in on themselves. Chloe kept her own expression neutral as well.

“Do you remember what your superpower is?”

“Not at all.”

“…”

A pin dropping to the floor would have echoed like a clap of thunder in the silence that followed.

Authors Notes:

Regarding all your feedback: Wow. Just… Wow. The response for this fic so far has been better than I could have hoped. All of you saying how much you love my take on Chloe is just… Amazing is the only word I have for it. I’ve gotten wonderful comments from you all saying how much you laughed at Pollen and Chloe’s antics, and how heartwarming you found Chloe’s relationship with Adrien. I hope I can continue to meet all your expectations in the future. I started writing this fic for myself, and I will continue to do so, but your continued support makes it so much easier to keep pouring myself into this project.

Regarding the transformation phrases: Transformation phrases like “Spots On” and “Claws Out” seem to be found mostly in the English translation of the show. Since that’s the version I watched, that’s the cannon I went off of when writing this fic. Until it became clear it had to become an A.U. anyway. I love the idea that the Kwami’s have to update the phrase every generation or so. I’d also love to have heard Hawkmoth having to argue with Nooroo about changing his to something as edgy as “Dark Wings Rise.”

#Chlolya #Adrien and Chloe sibling love #Pollen #chloe bourgeois #adrien agreste #Useless Lesbian Chloe #Eventual RoyalFox

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cas-tellation · 7 years

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lowercase_stars

Word count: 5.9k

read it on ao3

Summary: Dan's mind is stuck in the sky, infatuated by the stars, Phil's the one who keeps him on the ground.

"Dodie and Phil are waiting for him under the amber glow of a streetlamp in front of the 24-hour coffee shop. They’re used to him being late, used to the brown-eyed boy being too caught up in the universe to have any time to even remotely care about the people who he’s supposed to be doing things with.They don’t blame him. They, too, can see into the vastness of the universe and get stuck in how it looks. But Dan is the only one who actually physically cannot look away.Phil says something about Dan being late and Dodie hums a quiet tune under her breath.It’s just after 2am but it’s the best time to be awake."

¯\(◡‿◡☆) /¯

The stars were like ice, freezing his heart into one of cold, frosting over the warmth of his soul and turning it into an unresponsive wasteland of broken memories and lost thoughts. A wasteland that is the closest thing to home that he has.

His gaze is filled with shadows, watching the night and the sky intertwined into a masterpiece that’s beyond human comprehension.

The stars are part of him, encasing his body in their beauty and capturing his eyes in the way they flit across the sky.

The streetlamps of the city have faded into the background, nonexistent in the bubble that is around him and the stars, the planets and the asteroids all floating in a void.

The ethereal lights bring up just enough light to see by, the sun reflecting upon the moon aiding him to see what the stars did not allow him to.

His lips are chapped and pale, his brown eyes soft but glazed over, his mind a genius but thick with exhaustion, running on little to no sleep. He wants to stay in the field, hearing the long grass swish in the slight breeze. But he can’t.

He gives the sky one last glance before turning around and walking back through the trees, towards civilisation.

Dodie and Phil are waiting for him under the amber glow of a streetlamp in front of the 24-hour coffee shop. They’re used to him being late, used to the brown-eyed boy being too caught up in the universe to have any time to even remotely care about the people who he’s supposed to be doing things with.

They don’t blame him. They, too, can see into the vastness of the universe and get stuck in how it looks. But Dan is the only one who actually physically cannot look away.

Phil says something about Dan being late and Dodie hums a quiet tune under her breath.

It’s just after 2am but it’s the best time to be awake, mostly because then everybody else is asleep but then there’s that added bonus of everything looking so much better.

The darkness, ironically, holds so much more to see than during the daytime when everything is being lit up by the sun.

Thoughts come harder during the day and speaking becomes so much more difficult. During the night, you can be free. There’s no boundaries. It feels so much better.

Phil catches Dan staring up at the sky, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide with wonder. He represses a smile and taps Dan’s shoulder, drawing his attention away from the speckled sky.

He tells Dan to stay on the ground with them where he won’t get lost and Dan nods his head in unsaid agreement, keeping his gaze downcast enough to keep the stars just out of his vision.

They go into the coffee shop, ‘Mugs Coffee’ the sign outside declared it’s name.

The owner of the shop, Ellise, isn’t expecting them. They hadn’t been in for months. Life had gotten to them and their old ways were washed away like the stars when the sun came out.

But she still remembers the drinks that they always got and starts making them, watching with an eerie deja vu as the three of them went to go sit at their regular booth, Dodie instantly sitting criss-cross-applesauce and doodling song lyrics mindlessly onto a napkin, leaving Dan to look out the window with a longing that never failed to shock her, and Phil, taking out his laptop and trying to get the words from his head to go into a story that makes some sort of sense to the readers. Occasionally, he’d tap dan’s shoulder with his fingertips and Dan would spin around in his seat, fear flaring up in his eyes but dying back down as soon as he saw that it was Phil, proceeding to look over the words that his friend had written.

Dodie was the quieter one, deciding to keep her thoughts stuck in the songs that she wrote, but when she did talk, it was with intelligence and wit that many people lacked.

They were a funny little group of people, but some of the most interesting at the same time. Dan’ heart is stuck in the sky and Phil’s is frozen in the words and Dodie’s is swept away by the music.

Tea, a coffee and a caramel macchiato.

A late-night conversation.

A starlit sky.

A ukelele, softly playing.

A hum, eventually turning into a song.

A hand, softly tracing between the diamonds in the sky.

A pair of blue eyes, blinking though glasses.

A tap on a shoulder and his eyes refocusing.

Nobody comes to coffee shops late at night, or rather early in the morning. Phil thinks they’re missing out. It’s quiet, so quiet.

But not bad, not uncomfortable.

It’s a soft quiet, a welcoming quiet.

It’s a writer’s quiet. A quiet that keeps the mind blocks away and the monsters in his brain at bay. It’s a quiet and a darkness that lets him see properly, through the lense of his glasses.

Ellise brings them their drinks with a small smile on her face. Phil gives her the money, and Dan burns his tongue on his coffee, a looks of discomfort passing over his face before he looked back out the window, the stars washing away the sharp burning hurt.

Tap, tap.

Dan’s back on earth and Dodie’s humming again, flicking through her phone.

Dan’s eyes find Phil’s, ‘Stay on the ground and don’t get lost.’

Dan wishes that he could but it’s hard sometimes.

He hopes that Phil understands, and Phil does, to some extent.

He leans over Phil’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of his writing, but instead is met with a blank word document.

There’s no stories yet, Phil tries to explain, shaking his head.

Write about the the stars, Dan offers, tilting his head to the side.

Write about your feelings, Dodie pipes up, locking her phone and laying it off to the side.

But that’s not a story, Phil insists, running a tired hand through his hair.

It doesn’t need to be a story, Dodie says.

Dan’s mind wanders and his face turns toward the window.

Dodie sips at her tea, she suggests writing song lyrics between paragraphs of what the song lyrics mean to him but Phil says that it sounds too much like school work and refuses.

Tap, tap.

Stay here, Phil says gently, turning his laptop screen towards Dan, write something, he says.

Dan’s fingers hover over the keyboard before they start typing, almost of their own accord.

He’s no poet. His words never come along with the ease or beauty that Phil’s and Dodie’s do.

127 words then he stops. His gaze flickering over what he just wrote. He pushes the laptop back to Phil and his eyes skim over it.

He smiles, giggling softly.

Do you like it, Dan asks, his voice timid and soft.

I love it, Phil replies.

He adds more to Dan’s writing, continuing what little words Dan was able to get down.

987 words and he pauses, biting on the skin on the inside of his thumb, a bad habit. He turn the laptop so that if faces Dodie and she brushes her short brown hair out of her eyes before reading the words of the two boys.

She smiles to herself when she reaches the end, her fingertips finding the keys with such ease as she continued the words in the document.

1,245 then she stops, turning it back to face Phil.

He reads it over, his face portraying emotions. Too many of them. She can’t read them fast enough. She’s pretty sure that Dan would be able to see what Phil’s thinking but his mind is lost out the window again. She doesn’t try catching his attention, it seems cruel, almost, to take him away from something that he can be that transfixed on.

Phil doesn’t add any more words. He saves the document under ‘Untitled (57)’ and shuts the laptop.

Tap, tap.

I’m here, Dan says, but his eyes prove him to be lying, as they’re cold and encased in galaxies.

Stay here, Phil says, but he knows that Dan won’t. Dan can’t, his life is with the stars, they are, in some way, a part of who he is.

By the time they leave dawn is already touching the horizon and Ellise looks like she’s about to drop dead, she’s so tired.

They’re all tired, but they’re used to it.

Life isn’t waiting for them to get a good 8 hours worth of sleep. Life is screaming at them to get the fuck up and do something.

The lyrics are scribbled haphazardly onto napkins that are later used to wipe up the caramel macchiato that Phil spilled, dodie’s words washed away by a mistake that Phil made.

By the time that they leave, dawn is touching the horizon, lighting up the world with a soft blue glow.

Dodie wants to go home because her parents will be awake soon and she doesn’t want them to be mad at her but both Dan and Phil want to stay out longer because it’s that last time that they’ll all be together for a long time, as both Dan and Phil starts university the next day and will be moving with together to a flat closer to the school, leaving Dodie behind to finish her A-levels.

Dan wasn’t sure what he wanted to do yet. He’d enrolled in a few courses at the same university that Phil had said he was going to, but he still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his future.

Phil would be doing English Language and Linguistics, as well as some other writing things, and then would hopefully go on to accomplish his goal of becoming an author.

Dodie wanted to do things with music, that much she knew.

One last night, Phil practically begged, lacing his fingers into Dodie’s and tugging her along a thin winding road, a road that would eventually lead out of the city and into a small wooded area, where Dan had been just a few hours ago, so that they could sit by the edges of the clearing and watch the stars as the sun took them over.

Dan trailed along behind, breathing in the chill morning air.

When they got there, Dodie resumed her usual position of sitting criss-cross-applesauce with her ukelele out, making up songs to fit her thoughts. Phil stretched out on his back, letting the dewy grass soak through his light T-shirt, staring at the sky. Dan sat down beside Dodie, humming along to the ukulele.

She smiled softly and played a bit harder, putting a little more thought into it.

Phil recognised the tune. Sick of Losing Soulmates. He wanted to reassure her that he and Dan would always be around, that she wasn’t losing them, but he couldn’t pluck up the courage because nobody knew what was going to happen. Maybe she would lose them. Maybe they’d lose each other and end up living life like normal people, even though that was one of the very few things that they were trying their hardest to avoid.

Dan picks up the lyrics, singing it ever so softly, his eyes trained on the rapidly-fading stars in the sky;

What a strange being you are,

God knows where I would be if you hadn’t found me,

Sitting all alone in the dark.

Phil can see Dan shuffling closer to Dodie and slinging an arm around her shoulder, letting her rest against his side.

She doesn’t break into tears - she’s stronger than that.

When the song is over, she puts her ukulele to the side and just sits there, Phil abandons his position on the dewy grass and goes to sit beside Dan and Dodie.

Together, for the very first last time, they watched as the sun touched the treetops with it’s rays, the stars disappearing completely to make room for the light.

The moon was still there, but difficult to see though the sun's brightness.

I’m going to miss this, Dodie confesses when they get up to leave.

Me too, Dan agrees fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt as they follow Phil back to the trail, eventually making it back to their houses.

Neighbors, ever since year five, now torn apart.

Dan’s parents are waiting in the driveway, they’d be driving Dan and Phil up to their new flat together.

A constellation, but now two of the three stars were going away, leaving the third lost and frozen in time while they wait to be reunited again.

Mr and Mrs Howell were used to the three of them coming back in the early hours of the morning, as the sneaking out had started when Dodie was just 12, and the boys were 14.

She hugs them both fiercely, then watches as they climb into the backseat of the car and pull away.

Still, she doesn’t cry.

She just steels herself and plays music refusing to think about life’s flaws.

It’s December and snow is lightly dusted over their whole world, turning it into a wonderland of some sorts. They’re going home for Christmas, in a week.

But until then, their lives are taken over by school.

Phil’s taking a handful of English courses whilst Dan took a little bit of everything, still unsure of what his future held for him.

Dan sat on the couch in the Cafe, his side pressed up against Dodie, an arm slung across her shoulders, she leaned on him heavily, soaking up his comfort. Twilight touched the sky outside the window, drawing Dan in, but he steels himself and stays on earth with his friend.

Dan had come home early. He couldn’t deal with school, so he had left. He hadn’t told Phil or any of his teacher and he knew that people would be worrying but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Dodie asks Dan if he wants to go for a walk to see the sky, and he agrees right away, leading the way out of the Cafe and down the street, running a hand through his hair absentmindedly, feeling Dodie’s presence by his side, urging him on.

He breaks into a run, feeling to cool air stream around his face.

The lights from the shops along the street along with the streetlamps, lit their way.

Dan held his arms out from his sides, the wind playing it’s way through his fingertips and straight to his heart.

Dodie’s running along behind him, her heart racing in time to his.

Dan slowed to a walk as they crossed the road, his energy eating away at him.

He just wanted to run, as if he ran far and fast enough, his future wouldn’t catch up with him.

His phone’s ringing but he’s ignoring it, stepping out onto a deserted street and walking on the yellow line in the centre of it. Dodie follows without question, humming quietly under her breath as she follow.

He stops then, in the middle of a road, houses stretching out all around them, holding life of those who were asleep. He lays down, staring up at the sky. The streetlamps blocked out the majority of the stars, but there were still a few strong ones shining through the atmosphere, shocking Dan in the best way.

Dodie sits cross-legged beside him, fishing her iPhone out of her pocket and taking multiple photos of the starstruck boy and their surroundings, capturing the bits of smoke escaping from a passer by’s mouth, from the cigarette that he held in his hand and the freezing air alike.

There’s no clouds tonight, Dan states, tilting his head to meet Dodie’s eyes.

Dodie nods, snapping another picture and grinning down at the brown-haired boy.

I didn’t know where you were, Phil said, glaring at Dan.

I was fine, Dan protested, leaning forwards to try and hug his friend.

Phil steps back, not allowing Dan to touch him. He doesn’t miss the hurt look that flashed across Dan’s face, but chooses not to acknowledge it.

Dan masks the pain with anger and turns away from Phil, ignoring his protesting voice and texting Dodie quickly to ask if she was up for a walk that night.

I don’t know how I feel, Dan said softly, taking a piece of the white chalk from Dodie’s hand and doodling on the pavement by his side.

You feel something, Dodie states, looking towards the horizon where the sun is rising.

Yes, Dan agrees.

Tell him, Dodie urges.

I can’t, Dan says, his voice barely a whisper.

Dodie sighs but doesn’t push. She tells Dan she has to leave because school starts in a matter of hours and she doesn’t want to be late. She says that Dan should go back to the flat that he shares with Phil and actually attend a few classes at school for once, because maybe being productive would make him feel better. She leaves the tin of chalk behind, letting Dan draw designs into the pavement with the sun rising behind him.

She takes a picture of the scene before turning and walking home.

Dan drops the chalk off at Dodie’s house before he catches a bus to go back to school. Behind him, he leaves a mess of small white stars scratched into the pavement with the chalk.

I didn’t think you’d be back, Phil says when he hears Dan opening their front door.

I don’t have anywhere else to go, Dan reminds him.

That’s never stopped you before, Phil reminds him. But I am glad that you’ve come back, he adds to the end.

Phil opens his arms for a hug, and Dan falls into them grateful, bawling up the front of Phil’s T-shirt in his fists and pressing himself as close to the taller boy as possible.

I’m sorry, Dan apologizes.

Phil reassures him that it’s okay. That everything’s okay.

Neither of them think that everything’s okay, though. Because Dan’s head is still stuck up in the stars and there’s nothing on earth that urges him to stay. There’s nothing to hold him there steadily. Nothing tangible. There’s no home. They both know that he will never be happy with whatever future he’s reaching for right now.

They were back home for Christmas, the first time since the summer that Dan, Phil and Dodie had all been together. She hugs them both when she sees them.

The Cafe is just how it has always been during the winter season, decorated for the holidays but not overwhelmingly so.

Dodie suckes on a candy cane, talking to Phil whilst Dan is staring out the window, watching the snowflakes fall from the sky, piling themselves upon the ground.

His gaze is full of stars, even though the sky is void of them, housing the clouds thick with snow instead of the unusual diamonds.

They’re at a Christmas party with their families at Phil’s house, and every relative is asking Dan about where he thinks he is going to be in the future. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know where his future is going or if he has a future. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing right now, how the fuck is he supposed to know what’s going to be happening in the future?

He slips away with a muffled; sorry I have to go.

Phil’s room is empty when he walks into it, shutting the door behind him and curling up on his friend’s bed and burying his head in the blue-and-green pillow, trying to block out the nagging anxiety in the back of his head, telling him things that weren’t true.

He wishes that the clouds would clear and show him the stars, but the snow fell down with fury, blocking out what Dan needed to see the most at that moment.

Phil notices that Dan’s missing from the crowd some time later. He pushes his way past everyone, knowing that with the cloud cover, the only place that Dan could go for peace was Phil’s room.

He sighs when he sees Dan’s huddled form on the bed. He leaves the light off and quietly steps across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Talk to me, Phil whispers through the room.

Dan lets out a little whimper but doesn’t articulate his feeling any farther than that.

Phil turns towards Dan, laying down and wrapping an arm around Dan’s waist. He smiles a bit when Dan automatically shuffles forwards and presses his face against Phil’s chest, breathing in Phil’s farmilar scent.

The day that Dan drops out of university is not a good one. Granted, he has barely attending even half his classes anyway, but still.

He goes back to his parents house and watches the stars with Dodie, trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his future.

She tells him that he should do whatever he can do to be happy, but he’s not sure how to be happy anymore.

Dan calls Phil without thinking. It’s a natural reflex by now.

They talk for hours, and even then, Dan doesn’t want to hang up when Phil says that he’s got to go because he has a class now.

He walks into the forest, sitting with his back against a tree and watching the little birds hopping around on the dew-covered ground. A few come frighteningly close to him, but back off when they realize that he’s a human.

He doesn’t feel like a human, however. He feels like paper. A paper doll surviving amongst the living. His breaths don’t feel like his lungs are working and his heart beat feels like glass, ready to shatter in an instant.

I miss you, Phil says one day in the middle of a phone call.

Dan’s not sure how to respond so he stays silent.

Phil says that he has to go a minute later, even though they both know that he has nowhere that he needs to be.

Dan doesn’t tell Phil that he’s coming home, he just shows up. But Phil’s at a class so Dan makes hot chocolate and opens up his laptop, scrolling through tumblr while he waits for Phil to come back.

Phil’s surprised to see Dan there when he gets back, but hugs him tightly nonetheless.

Dan fell asleep in Phil’s arms that night, thinking, for once, that maybe things didn’t have to be as complicated as his mind told them to be.

Nearly a year had passed, and Dan was curled up on the couch at the parent’s house, his head on Phil’s lap, feeling Phil’s fingers gently playing with his hair, peace taking over him for the first time in ages.

It’s almost Christmas, Phil reminds him, breaking the silence with his voice.

Hopefully it’ll be better than last year, Dan giggles.

Phil agrees with him quietly, remembering the night they had spent together curled up on Phil’s bed, trying their best to ignore the relatives voices drifting up from downstairs, when Phil had whispered a quiet ‘Merry Christmas’, to Dan’s sleeping form

Let’s go for a walk, Dan says suddenly, a matter of minutes later.

It’s late, Phil protests. He doesn’t want to go outside into the freezing cold weather.

C’mon, Dan whined, sitting up and grabbing Phil’s hand, fully prepared to drag his friend outside if he refused to come freely.

Phil rolls his eyes but follows Dan as he leaves the house, stepping out into the night.

Dodie should be with us, Phil says as they walk past her house.

Dan nods along with him, but doesn’t add any more words to the thought.

Dodie had moved. Three hours away, so it wasn’t like they never got to see her, but it still stung.

The snow on the ground is only partly melted, leaving behind puddles of slush, cascading in every direction when Dan stomps his feet through them

Phil doesn’t need to tap Dan’s shoulder anymore when he looks skywards because Dan’s been staying on the ground lately, for better or for worse.

Dan shivers against the cold, shifting a bit closer to Phil, a bit closer to warmth. Phil took the hint and slid an arm around Dan’s waist, pressing their sides together.

Dan laughs airily, leaning into him impulsively.

He feels like he might be enough. Like this life that he had right here, right now, was enough. It was enough to stay on the ground, like it was worth all the pain that came with the future.

It was just like last year. People crowding into the Lester’s too-small house, making it seem even more cramped than usual. Dan wished that he could go to the stars, because in the sky, everything was so far apart.

Tap, tap.

Dan spins around, his gaze filled with Phil.

You alright?, He asks softly, not catching the attention of anyone else.

Dan shrugs, not having the energy nor motivation to articulate how he was feeling properly.

He dissipates into the crowd a minute later, out of the view of a certain black-haired boy.

It’s much later when Phil finds Dan again, sitting outside with a bottle of wine clutched in his hands, staring down at the clear liquid instead. He takes a sip from the bottle, not glancing up to meet Phil’s eyes.

Phil doesn’t ask if Dan’s alright. Because by all definition, he’s not alright.

He just sits next to the drunk younger boy, pressing their sides together as if to offer him support. He tries to pry the liquor out of his hands, but Dan’s grip is strong, and he pulls back.

I didn’t like being around all those other people, Dan slurs, taking another sip.

Dan leans harder against the older boy, taking strength from him.

It’ll get better, Phil says, turning his head so that his lips brushing over Dan’s slightly curly hair.

What’ll get better? Dan asks, The social anxiety or life in general?

Everything?, Phil phrases his word like a question.

I can’t do this anymore, Dan admits, tilting his head to meet Phil’s eyes.

You can’t do what anymore? Phil asks softly.

Living, Dan practically spits. It sends a shiver down Phil’s spine, and not in a good way. He almost screams about how he wishes it would get better, wishes that life would just decide his own fate, instead of leaving him alone to muddle through everything. Phil tries to break in to tell Dan that even if he doesn’t think of himself as someone who means more than nothing, other people do.

He lets Dan vent his feelings until his throat is sore and the bottle is empty. He helps Dan into bed later, watching his tear-streaked face fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

Their flat by the university isn’t very large, but it seems to grow smaller and smaller every time they entered it. The couch seemed to be pressed up to the TV and the kitchen seemed to be only a foot wide, the doorways looked like they were closing in on the rest of the flat, squeezing everything together until nothing was left and everyone ran out of air.

Dan’s half asleep when Phil comes home after a night out with some friends. He had been re-watching Death Note, drinking hot chocolate and quietly scrolling though tumblr whilst he waited for Phil to come back.

Phil greeted him softly, settling down beside him on the sofa. His slightly-tipsy mind allowed him to cuddle close to Dan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and hooking his ankle around one of Dan’s. Dan didn’t bother pushing him away, in fact, he pulled him closer still. It was soft and gentle, no words needed to be spoken to express what they were feeling.

Dan’s movements are clumsy with sleep as he untangles himself from Phil a minute later, turning so that he was straddling Phil’s lap, letting his hands lace themselves together behind Phil’s neck, pushing himself forewards so that his whole body was leaning heavily against Phil’s chest, his head buried in the crook of Phil’s neck. He feels Phil’s fingers trailing up and down his back, pulling him as close as possible with the lightest touch imaginable.

Dan’s not sleepy anymore. Phil’s touches, however light, feel like electricity running through every inch of his body, making him press his face harder into Phil’s neck, trying not to squirm in Phil’s hold. Phil’s fingers ghost over the small of Dan’s back, almost dangerously close the the waistline of his sweatpants.

Dan’s heart is beating faster than it should be and he’s sure that Phil can feel it, though he doesn’t bring it up. Phil’s hands push their way up the back of Dan’s T-shirt before Dan can tell him to stop, his fingertips no longer gently pressing into his back, it was his fingernails, scraping shapes into his pale skin. Dan holds back a whine, arching his spine to press further into Phil’s hands.

Dan leans back, regretfully abandoning the head-on-Phil’s-shoulder pose, and looks at Phil, watching his azure eyes shine back at his, they’re glinted with flecks of yellow and green, but the blue most prominent of all. Dan’s breath catches in his throat when Phil’s hands slide down to Dan’s waist, holding him there with a gentle but commanding touch.

Dan doesn’t feel drawn to even glance out the window towards the darkened sky, because stars danced in Phil’s gaze, drawing him there instead.

Dan doesn’t pause to ask; ‘What are we?’, he doesn’t pause to see if Phil’s okay with it. He doesn’t pause to talk to his friend. He just kisses him. He numbly feels Phil kissing him back, gentle pecks at first easily escalating into heated making out.

Phil doesn’t tell him to stop and Dan doesn’t make any move to pull away.

Skin on skin.

Everything is laced with electricity, Phil’s tongue like lightning bolts inside of Dan’s mouth, on Dan’s neck, red flowers bloom on their skin, an artwork created by lust.

The world doesn’t exist. All that’s left to Dan is Phil. Phil, he’s everywhere. All around him, holding him, caressing him, touching him.

Dan can taste stars in his mouth, infatuated by Phil’s body underneath him.

It was desperate and messy but neither of them wanted to stop.

They’re tangled up together in Phil’s bed the next morning, neither of them wanting to move even though Phil had to go to a class and Dan was supposed to go see Dodie.

Dan wants to ask Phil what they are to one another. Friends? Boyfriends? Nothing? But he stays silent. He’s not sure what is fueling the silence, his mouth just refused to open to express his feelings.

When Phil wakes up, he presses half-asleep kisses to Dan’s collar bones and neck, tracing the bruises left over from last night with his fingertips, the cold of his skin soothing the dull pain that ached through Dan’s body.

Phil pulls himself out of bed, telling Dan that he’s going to go draw a bath for them.

Dan simply nods. He doesn’t know how to think or act and he wishes that he could go look at the stars but the sun is up, blotting out the lights in the sky.

Phil comes back a couple of minutes later, lacing his fingers through Dan’s and tugging him out of bed, leading him down the short hall to the bathroom. Dan follows without hesitation.

Phil asks if it’s alright to share a bath but they both already know that the answer is going to be a very definite yes. Dan confirms their thoughts, letting Phil step into the warm water first, then slid between Phil’s legs, pressing his back up against Phil’s bare chest. Phil can feel Dan’s muscles, taunt against Phil’s stomach, showing his discomfort.

The water is almost overflowing, and at any other time, Dan would have been completely relaxed.

It was Phil. Only Phil. He had no reason whatsoever to feel uneasy, but it was still laced through his every move. He almost wanted to leave, but he couldn’t because this was Phil and he was supposed to be comfortable around Phil. But he wasn’t. Everything was electric, not in a comfortable way. It was the way that sent shivers down his spine, creating as vortex of missing emotions.

He takes a deep breath, letting his hands float to the surface of the water.

He pulls away from Phil when he starts kissing the back of his neck and his shoulders.

He can feel Phil’s concerned eyes burning into his back. He sits on the edge of the bathtub, wrapping a towel around his shoulders and burying his head in his hands, taking deep breaths. He hears the water splashing as Phil scrambles up, resting a hand on Dan’s back and softly asking him what’s wrong.

He knows what’s wrong. He can read Dan easier than he can read words.

But still, he wants to make sure that his thought’s are right. He doesn’t want to assume things. He just rubs small circles into Dan’s back, waiting for Dan to calm himself down.

Dan’s hair is still curly and wet from the bath, an old sweatshirt of Phil’s hanging off his thin frame. He’s pressed into the corner of their sofa, avoiding Phil’s searching eyes.

What are we?, Dan asks, trying to keep the tremor of stress out of his voice. He doesn’t miss Phil’s hesitation.

I don’t know, Phil responds. He’s speaking the truth, not trying to gloss over anything for the brown-haired boy.

Dan wants to go up to the stars. Because everything's so complex down on earth, everything needs labeled and reasons, nothing can just be as simple as a feeling.

He remembers how Phil tasted, like starlight dancing on his tongue. He remembers the way that Phil’s fingertips traced over his skin, pressing down and scraping his fingernails across him. He remembers Phil’s body, pressed fluidly against his own.

He doesn’t want to let it go.

He wants to taste the starlight again.

Almost subconsciously, Dan’s body uncurls itself, raising his head to face Phil.

A look flashes across Phil’s face that Dan can’t seem to place.

We don’t have to be anything, Phil offers, almost like he thinks that Dan doesn’t want a repeat of last night.

Dan crawls across the sofa, pressing his body against Phil’s. He pretends that he doesn’t hear the sharp intake of breath, and tilts his head to kiss Phil’s lips. Phil’s hands are under Dan’s sweatshirt, wandering their way around the bruises left on his torso, connecting them like constellations.

Dan hopes that his actions are strong enough to show Phil what he wants.

Dan catches Phil’s bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back before letting it snap back into place.

Phil pulls away a moment later, a soft smile playing across his lips.

I don’t know what I want us to be, Dan says again.

Do you want us to be something?, Phil asks, a hint of desperation in his tone of voice.

Dan nods his head, affirming what Phil’s words said.

Stars shine in Phil’s eyes and Dan knows that he doesn’t ever want to let this go.

They’re under the stars, watching the moon’s slow journey across the dark night sky. Their sides are pressed against each others, their fingers laced together. The stars felt warm, turning Dan’s heart into one of fire, holding love for his surroundings.

His gaze is filled with light, reflecting life back out to the world.

He turns his head to look at Phil, his black hair a little bit too long, framing his pale face.

He never wants to move; because this is what home feels like.

#phanfic #phanfiction #myfics #lowercase_stars #this is my pride and joy #dan and phil #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #fanfic #fanfiction #phan #phan angst #phan fluff #phan smut

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royalfoxfics · 7 years

Photo

Art by Twin Doodles

Ao3

FF.net

In which Volpina makes her appearance, Chat Noir makes puns, and Queen Bee is a (mostly) useless Lesbian.

Chloe was falling through a pitch black abyss, completely void of any light or sound. All she could feel was pain. It was as if a hole was being drilled through her back. She could feel it as it cut deeper inside of her, heading straight for her heart and then… It was gone.

The pain disappeared suddenly and without a trace, and instead of the horrible and nauseating feeling of falling, she felt as if she were simply drifting; all alone through empty space, with no sense of up, down, or even if she was breathing.

And then, she wasn’t drifting. She was nestled against something soft and pleasantly warm. Whatever it was, it was even better than the twenty-thousand-euro bed back in her penthouse. She felt safe and very comfortable, and wanted nothing more than to snuggle deeper into whatever it was she was laying on, but her body wasn’t responding to her commands. Her “bed” seemed to sense what she wanted, and she felt it shift and wrap two warm arms around her and hold her close. It was a wonderful feeling.

The next sense to come back was smell. Her lungs suddenly sucked air through her nose as if they had been completely empty, and her mind was filled with the scent of cinnamon and… something else. She couldn’t put a name to it, but this new smell was completely foreign to her, though not at all unpleasant.

Next came her hearing. She could hear the steady thump of a heartbeat in one ear, and then two voices talking back and forth in the other.

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, uh, she’s just, er… really excited to meet you!”

The voices sounded slightly muted, as if from a long way off. They were nice sounding voices, but hearing them was forcing her to pay attention and wake up, while the heartbeat was trying to lull her back to sleep. Her strength began to come back to her, and she used it to bury her face deeper into the nice smelling something that was cradling her.

One of the voices laughed softly.

“Well, she’s certainly seems happy to meet me.”

Someone lightly caressed the side of her face, prompting her to unwillingly open her eyes. Her vision was blurry at first, but as she blinked it back into focus, all she could see was an ocean of pure white. She pulled her head away slightly and realized she was sitting up. Turning her head, she saw a dark blue floor and some funny looking shoes that were attached to some legs. Following the legs up, she eventually came to Chat Noir’s face leaning over her. It was smiling down at her like the him that had eaten the canary.

That was a bit annoying, but at least he was a friendly face. She dazedly looked back to her bed, and saw it had orange shoulders connected to the two white “pillows” she had been using, and a gold and orange necklace shaped like a fox tail. Following the necklace, she saw a high black collar that connected to a beautiful brown face, that had a friendly smile, a white and orange mask, and two hazel brown eyes that Chloe found especially fascinating.

“Hello there,” the lovely face said.

Chloe’s dreamy bliss popped like a balloon. She was leaning on a pretty girl, no scratch that, being held by a pretty girl whose rather ample chest had been serving as her pillow for who knew how long, and this bushy haired angel was smiling down at her like there was nothing wrong with this situation. It was literally a dream come true for her repressed little gay heart. So naturally, she panicked.

She flung herself away from the beautiful stranger with every ounce of strength she had. The girl let out a “Hey!” of surprise and fell over, while Chloe tried to stand up and run away at the same time. The result was her stumbling wildly backwards, and as she did so her mind took in her surroundings and she realized that she was still on the roof, and in nearly the exact same position she had been in just a minute before.

Fortunately, Chat Noir was prepared this time, and used his staff as a guard rail to keep her from falling off the roof like she had nearly done earlier.

“Yeah, let’s not do that again,” he said, and then gave her a push forward that sent her tumbling back towards Volpina.

Volpina was still sitting up as Chloe came back, and they landed in a heap on the floor, with Chloe sprawled over Volpina’s chest again, and her head spinning.

“That, however, I could watch all day,” Chat commented.

As the two girls groaned and Chloe pushed herself up on her arms, Volpina sat up for the third time and the two came nearly nose to nose.

Their eyes widened as the two looked at each other, their faces barely and inch apart. Volpina seemed surprised, but Chloe looked downright terrified. Her eyes took in the vision before her, and tried to memorize all the details at once. The way Volpina’s white tipped brown hair perfectly framed her face, the bright colors of her mask, the surprised but curious look in her sparkling hazel eyes, how soft her slightly parted lips looked, how close they were to her own…

“You know, Queenie,” Chat said off to her left, playfully leaning on his staff and twirling his tail in one hand. “I at least waited until my second mission before I fell for my partner.”

Chloe’s already red face nearly burst in to flames. Volpina tried to hide her smile, and Chloe shut her eyes tight and wrenched herself away from her as fast as she could. She scrambled for the only safe place she could think of to save herself from dying of embarrassment, and made a mad dash past Chat Noir, grabbed one of his padded shoulders as she went by, and swung herself around to hide behind his back.

“Is she okay?” Volpina asked, trying not to laugh at the just barely visible knuckles clinging to Chat’s shoulders.

Chat looked back at the trembling girl trying to cut off circulation to his arms.

“She’s fine,” he said casually. “She’s just not used to meeting new people.”

Chloe made a fist and hit him in the back as hard as she could. He chuckled at the soft blow and turned his attention back to Volpina.

“So where’s Ladybug?”

Volpina stood up and pointed to a tree on the opposite side of the park from their roof. Chat Noir squinted, and could just make out a hint of red peeking out from between its’ branches.

“She’s over there. She’s waiting for me to make a distraction to lure away all the bad guys so she can rescue the hostages.”

“Great plan,” Chat said. “Getting the civilians to safety should always be our first priority. You got that Queenie?”

He looked back and saw Chloe nod her head vigorously while she continued to try to slow her racing heartbeat.

“Good. Volpina, you and I can hop down once their distracted and help Ladybug release the hostages, then regroup back here and get Queen Bee. She, uh… transformed before her Kwami told her how to use her powers. Classic mistake. I did the same thing.”

Volpina gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of her head.

“Actually, Ladybug says I’m not allowed in the field yet. She says I need more training.” Volpina rolled her eyes and huffed. “Like she had any training on her first day.”

“That’s what I said!” Chat agreed, and Chloe hit him again.

Volpina threw up her arms in agreement.

“Right!? Anyway, I’m supposed to just stay up here out of sight for now.”

“Well, Ladybug knows best, I guess. Anyway, you can look after Queenie for me then.”

Chat jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to point at the still cowering “Queenie.” Her majesty had had enough of him however. Without a word she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him over behind a nearby chimney. As soon as they were out of sight, Chloe grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and slammed him into the grey brick chimney. She glared furiously at him.

“You have exactly three seconds to start explaining before I start inventing new ways to skin a cat.”

Chat held up his hands.

“Whoa, take it easy. I told you I had one last surprise for you, didn’t I? You get your own partner! Look, a few days ago Ladybug met me for patrol and showed me these two boxes, see? They looked just like the one I found Plagg’s ring in, and she said this old guy had given them to her so she could select some new superheroes to help us out. One had the Fox Miraculous inside it, which she kept, and the other had the Bee Miraculous, which she gave to me. She told me to give it to someone who was kind, trustworthy, and a strong leader. I only have, like, 4 friends though, and you’re the only one I would really call a leader, and you’re always kind to me at least. Plus, like I said, you’re the only one who would really appreciate the freedom that comes with a miraculous. So after a few days of thinking about it, I came by your house last night and here we are.”

Chloe looked at him in wonder for a moment, then closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “So… why am I ‘Queen Bee’ all of a sudden?”

“I thought it up while we were in the nurse’s office,” he said brightly. “It just kind of hit me, you know? Pollen’s all big into royalty like you said, right? And, you know, you always act like you’re royalty all the time. And you’ve got the whole bee look going on, so then I was like, BAM, ‘Queen’ ‘Bee’ get it?” He smiled proudly at his own creativity.

Chloe looked at him dumbly, blinking every so often, as if not sure how her life had suddenly become so strange. Chat’s face fell.

“Do you… Do you not like it?”

“Huh? No. I’m mean, no Chat, I love it! Couldn’t have come up with a better name myself. Just...”

She lifted her hands up to his collar, where they hovered indecisively as if not sure if they wanted to strangle him or not. Instead, they simply landed on his shoulders and squeezed firmly.

“Next time, talk to me first before you make any major, life altering decisions for someone else. Okay? Please?”

Her smile was loving, but also very strained at the same time. Chat didn’t know what to make of it so he just nodded.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Good. Good…”

She patted him on the cheek and took a deep breath before stepping out from behind the chimney. She forgot who was waiting for them, and let out a surprised “eep” when she saw Volpina looking at her. She quickly dashed back behind the chimney, colliding with Chat Noir in the process. They fumbled around for a second until separating themselves, whereupon Chloe began very casually brushing off her outfit and adjusting her hair.

“You go first,” she said, waving at Chat.

Chat arched an eyebrow at her before strolling out from behind the chimney. A second later, Queen Bee followed him out with her head held high and her shoulders back.

And her knees shaking when she caught Volpina smiling at her curiously.

“Sorry about that,” Chat said. “Just had to have a quick word with my ward here.”

He gestured at Queen Bee, who scowled and punched him in the arm. Volpina tried to hide her smile, and Chat Noir ignored Queen Bee and continued.

“Anyway, I’m sure we’ve kept my lady waiting long enough.”

Volpina nodded and pulled out the long wooden staff she wore on her back. At least, Queen Bee had thought it was a staff, but then she saw Volpina hold it up to her lips and realized it was really a very long flute. Volpina focused on the farthest end of the park. and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and hesitated for a moment before playing a few short cords. The music sounded rushed, but a ball of glowing energy quickly formed on the other end of the flute. When she was done, she adjusted her grip and tossed the glowing orb at the spot she had been focusing on, as if she were casting a fishing rod.

“Interesting technique,” Chat commented.

Volpina smiled and rubbed her head again.

“My mom used to take me fishing a lot. Look!”

She pointed as the ball of light arced over the park like a shooting star. It hit the ground with a small flash, and Chat Noir and Ladybug appeared. Queen Bee looked from the Chat next to her, to the Chat across the park with Ladybug in amazement. She was even more impressed when the fake Ladybug suddenly moved, and whistled loudly at the jeering minions. Every head in the park turned to look at her. Along with everything else in the park that didn’t have a head.

“Hey! If you want our Miraculouses, come and get’m!” the fake Ladybug yelled.

The evil edibles cried out and charged at the fake Ladybug and Chat Noir. The duplicates gave them a taunting wave, and started leaping from tree top to tree top, letting their pursuers chase them around and wildly hurl wooden spoons and spatulas up at them.

About fifteen or so of the minions stayed back to guard the hostages.

“They’re smarter than they look,” Queen Bee commented.

“Just the way the cookies crumble,” Chat said, pulling out his staff. “Volpina, you try to cover us with your illusions from here in case things turn sour, Queen Bee,” he gave her a quick wink, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She nearly threw him off the roof, but he leapt away before she could get her hands on him. She watched him pounce on one of the giant gingerbread men and smash it to bits. She could also see Ladybug rushing in from the opposite side, using her yoyo to lasso an over grown cupcake, and turn it into a makeshift wrecking ball to smash the four-foot tall sugar cookies blocking her way.

“They make a good team,” Volpina said next to her.

Queen Bee jumped. She hadn’t realized Volpina had gotten so close. She swallowed and kept her eyes fixed on the battle below as she tried to think of something to say. Volpina just laughed.

“You know, you’re pretty shy for a queen.”

Queen Bee blushed again and looked away.

“…I didn’t come up with the name,” she mumbled.

“Oh! So you can talk to me.”

Volpina smiled and tried to lean around Queen Bee to catch her eye. Queen Bee felt Volpina’s chest brush up against her arm, and the soft touch sent sparks of electricity shooting through her body. She jumped away, her heart pounding, and Volpina backed away too, frowning.

“Sorry, I guess I can be a little too forward…”

“No no, your fine!” Queen Bee insisted, waving a hand despite still looking directly away from Volpina. “I’m just…”

‘gay.’

The word echoed through her mind. It was something she had been taught to be ashamed of. Something she had hidden, feared, and hated about herself for almost all of her life. She had tried her best to lie to everyone about it, even herself, but standing on that roof, alone with her new beautiful partner, she remembered that she didn’t have to lie about it anymore.

Queen Bee turned around and looked at Volpina with determination burning in her eyes.

“I’m a lesbian.”

Volpina seemed taken aback, but whether it was from what Queen Bee was saying, or just the raw power she was saying it with, she couldn’t tell.

“That’s why Chat picked me to be Queen Bee. I have to hide who I am when I’m… when I’m the other me.” Her gazed dropped to the ground. “But Chat promised that I could be who I really am, if I agreed to help fight the Akumas, so I did. I’m gay, and I’m not going to hide it when I’m like this. I-If that’s going to be a problem I’m sorry, b-but I’m not going to give it up so-”

Her fear was beginning to override her courage, but before it could give out completely, two strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she was again surrounded by the lovely scent of cinnamon, and that other nice smell…

She slowly let herself relax into Volpina’s embrace, and after a few seconds, she hesitantly wrapped her own arms around her as well.

“It’s not a problem at all,” Volpina whispered in her ear.

Then she pulled back and cupped Queen Bee’s face, wiping away a tear from her partner’s cheek with her thumb, and they both smiled at each other.

“I think that is a great reason to become a superhero. I mean, it’s certainly original.”

They both laughed and Queen Bee let go to wipe her eyes again.

“So, yeah. Lesbian superhero.” Queen Bee looked down at herself and shrugged. “Though I guess I’m not very super yet…”

‘or a much of a hero,’ she added to herself.

Volpina scoffed and waved her hand.

“Don’t worry about it, girl. Ladybug’s got me on a two-foot leash. I’m not even allowed to wear my own miraculous unless she’s there to supervise me.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. Queen Bee looked amazed.

“Wow, Chat only gave me my miraculous last night, and he wanted me to fight an Akuma my first time putting it on.”

“Wana trade?” Volpina asked.

She was clearly joking, but Queen Bee put a finger to her lips as if considering the offer.

“Hmm, depends. Would I get to find out who Ladybug really is?”

Volpina laughed awkwardly and rubbed her head again.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Queen Bee frowned, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, if her reveal went anything like Chat’s, you’re probably right. He transformed right before my eyes and I still thought it was fake.”

“You too!?” Volpina exclaimed. “The same thing happened to me, girl! Like, she changed right in front of me and I thought it was just some fancy special effect! But it was right in my own room! I didn’t believe it was really her until I started-“

“-Trying to point out why she wasn’t!” Queen Bee interrupted. “I did the exact same thing! And then when there weren’t any reasons why he couldn’t be Chat I got this really bad-“

“-Headache, I know! If felt like my skull was splitting open! But it was like there was this wall separating them and when I started poking holes in it-“

“It was like someone cataclysmed your head. Yep, exactly! There’s got to be some kind of magic that keeps people from recognizing us. And it HURTS super bad when it stops.”

“Ugg, I know,” moaned Volpina, “and I felt like a total idiot for not seeing it! I mean she doesn’t even change her hair!”

“At least you probably weren’t raised with Ladybug,” Queen Bee grumbled.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine if I had a brother that was secretly a superhero,” Volpina said, shaking her head.

“Yeah… wait what?”

Queen Bee looked up at her in confusion, but Volpina just waved her off.

“Girl, it’s totally obvious. The way you two talk, the way you move, the hair,”

“Whoa, whoa, time out!” Queen Bee put up her hands in a tee, and gave Volpina a warning look. “My gorgeous hair is nothing like that banana mop litterbox boy has on his head!”

Queen Bee waved at the park below, while Volpina wordlessly observed how Queen Bee’s ponytail started as a whole band of hair, but was clearly attempting to curl itself into individual bunches at the end.

“Mhmm, sure.”

“Uh… Volpina?”

Queen Bee was staring down at the park with worry etched all over her face. One glance below told why. The hostages were still tied to the posts, and Queen Bee and Chat Noir had been captured as well.

“Oh…” Volpina said. “Yeah, that’s probably not good...”

Author’s Notes:

Regarding Volpina’s name: When I started this fic Alya did not have her own superhero name, and the fans were still calling her Volpina. I hinted that there was a bit of disagreement over what she was called in the prologue, and I may end up changing her name before the saga is finished completely. But for now, she’s still Volpina.

Fun fact, there was originally a line about how Volpina hated how Ladybug had named her after an Akuma, and at least Queen Bee’s name was original. I had to cut it out because it just didn’t work with the flow of the story.

Regarding Queen Bee: I don’t think I have ever read, seen, or even heard of a story where a person becomes a Super Hero specifically for the advantage of the anonymity to be themselves. I can think of several Super Hero’s who are more true to themselves as Super Hero’s as opposed to their civilian identities, but it didn’t occur to me until I was writing this chapter just how unique Chloe’s motivations are. At least as far as I know. I can think of several Super Villain’s with motivations similar to that, but no heroes. If you know of any other stories like this, please let me know in the comments.

#Chlolya #ACTUAL CHLOLYA #IT STARTS NOW!#Useless Lesbian Chloe #Confident Bisexual Alya #Supportive Brother Adrien #IT HAS BEGUN!

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