meow

vere would also help you buy clothes that made you feel confident. fully supports dressing up and the importance of clothing. you guys aren't leaving until you agree with him about being the best-looking couple in the city

masc (prince) | gets you to try on something so so fancy so he can tease you, "are you sure you aren't hiding some royal bloodline from me? am i unknowingly dating a prince of some far away land?"

fem (beautiful) | eventually picks that outfit you keep eyeing every time you walk past the mannequin. you come out and he's extremely pleased. "i knew you'd look beautiful in it, what took you so long to try it on?"

gn/androgynous | after time, he gets a good handle on what you lean towards and brings you ? such a good fucking outfit where the fuck did he find this? "i think you have the title of the most stunning person in eridia."

borrowing his clothes | if it meant you wanted something from his closet, of course he'd let you wear it out. he thinks you might look better in that top than him, and he already has the perfect accessories to go with it

dealt with transphobia | if it was because of something someone said, he makes a mental note to look for them. genuinely pissed off but hides it well enough (you know both the fact that he's angry on your behalf but also that you right now are his priority)

so while he makes sure to call them on their shit and call them a stupid pathetic asshole,,, the filth on the bottom of his shoe,,, vere prioritizes getting you somewhere that feels safer so he can take care of you for the rest of the day

tells you your gender isn't up for debate. the only person who gets to question your gender is You in which case he'd still be supporting you as long as you were happy.

he reminds you that it has never been, and never will be hard or a burden to recognize you for who you are and to respect your identity. he's always going to see you as you, and you'll always be able to trust him to love and respect you.

affirming your chosen name | don't know if this is really specific but like,, vere seems like he'd compliment your name? he'd smile as he tells you that it fits you perfectly, and it's maybe his favourite thing to say.

vere gets softer with you in general behind closed doors, i think. he lets you get away with things that others wouldn't, but that lenience/softness somehow multiplies when you're having a bad day

you want to cuddle in bed all day and play with his tail or ears? that's fine with him. you want to take a bath or shower together because having him there to help wash you gets your mind off of everything? sounds lovely! do you want a scented soap? you want to go to the wet wick for drinks or to meet up with the others? Maybe questions your taste but gets up and ready with you of course. do you want to stay in with him and just spend some time together? let him get some tea going and go get a blanket, neither of you are leaving for as long as you need him

omg. vere drawing you with like,, whatever style or haircut or look makes you happiest just so you can have it. let him remind you that that's You in his mind, and he'll do whatever's needed to get you there

THE OTHERS (/ ALL)

the urge to use inanimate objects and abstract concepts to explain your gender. while not all of them would initially, or maybe ever fully understand, i really think they'd try so so hard. they'd agree with you and say yes you Do have the energy of that little cat with rain boots standing in a puddle. yes you ARE a mystical fantasy forest. that depiction of an otherworldly creature has your vibes. to be so honest i Am curious about what mhin would describe their gender as if asked

ment. of misgendering | not a single person is getting away with misgendering you (with malintent) in front of any of them, much less all of them together. daggers are getting shot into their soul from every angle until somebody corrects them

ment of transphobia | sometimes just,, seeing it on the news or wherever else is overwhelming enough. it's hard and frustrating and heartbreaking and emotionally ? just not a good time. let any of them know that you'd like some comfort or a distraction and they'll be there, whatever you need.

mhin will take you to sit and talk on the roof, hand you some treats to feed the strays on your way there. thinking about a scenario where you and mhin are with the cats and the both of you talk about how cats are just,, so much better than people sometimes. cats can't be verbal assholes they just meow. this also works with ais and his pets of course

you could literally ask kuras to help with a haircut and he would maybe First of all suggest going to a professional, but ultimately stand in the washroom with scissors ready if you don't want to. LOL

wearing makeup | ais and his red eyeliner will help you try a new make-up look if you ask. vere and his what I think is eyeliner/eye shadow would also help. either of them would do their best to follow your inspiration, and also teach you how to do it if you don't know how !

masc presenting | not just vere but like,, any of the guys will let you try on their clothes. if you don't like it or they don't fit (considering kuras is fucking 6 foot 6.) they'll take you shopping ! suggest their favourite brands and places and do their best to get you a closet you're happy with.

mhin lets you check their closet too and i'm so sure they know some kind of like,, lesser known store that has the most Gender Fucking Clothes. THEIR TOP? THE CLOAK? be serious where did you get this tell me your secrets

and i think it's a given but just a reminder that if you use multiple names they're all going to switch between them regularly,, the same with pronouns.

the next points just give you (cute) little moments where terms would be used for you to think about! :) the entire cast would use the terms that make you happiest, when they make you happiest. just let them know if you'd prefer one type over the other today, and of course they'll happily oblige :]

masc | (boyfriend) leander grins happily while he introduces you to people as his boyfriend. (handsome) and calling you handsome has become one of his favourite things to do. would go "hey handsome, you come around often?" when he catches you sitting at the bar of the wet wick

(he/him pronouns) | ais. help me. get the "i'm he's" joke AWAY FROM HIM! he won't let it go like he'll get drunk and order matching shirts that say I'm He's on it if you don't stop him i'm so serious. said it out loud to the others once and they "?" but went with it anyways. someone asks you "are you sure you want to be he's?" but don't laugh (do laugh.)

gn | (partner) i don't know kuras's sleeping schedule but i feel like either way if he catches you up late he tells you you should sleep. you say You're up right now and he shakes his head. "i'm finishing something up, and you're my partner who i want to be well-rested. i'll be up in a few minutes, i promise."

while i don't really see mhin as someone who really uses…words of affirmation…whenever they do compliment you they Mean it. at first they just say "you look nice," but then you catch them flustered and unable to look at you and ??? they say they're fine. the outfit you've chosen for tonight is just...really you. it's one of their favourite looks on you and it's the best one you could have chosen and they're really trying not to stare please look away they're dying

fem | (pretty) leander conjuring up a flower and tucking it behind your ear and saying it looks pretty, but you look prettier. to be honest he gives me casual compliment vibes either way, you could probably walk down the stairs and he'd say "well doesn't someone look pretty today?" bro you said that yesterday and the day before

AKAASHI cares a little—it feels kind of awkward and he finds himself overthinking the term. but once he’s comfortable, he can tell if it’s just something you say or if you’re messing with him, in which case he’ll have a knowing smile as he refers to you as his friend. but if he’s tired, he’ll drag out the bit just long enough to make you regret it.

“you okay, dude?” you ask as he finally comes out from the washroom, ready for bed.

keiji doesn’t respond, the pout on his face and his slow steps speaking for themselves. he climbs into bed, curling into your side and draping an arm over you.

his breath is warm against your collarbone. “no, dude. i think we need to stop capitalism. can i have a hug now?”

wrapping yourself around him, you place a kiss on his head, hair more ruffled than usual. “i’ll collapse capitalism for you.”

“you’re the best, dude. love you, dude.”

“keiji, please.”

SUNA doesn't really care. the times rintarou 'takes offense' are for a bit, and he sounds amused the entire time. if you don't care either, he'll call you “dude” himself and means nothing negative about it. this isn't to say he won't call you "baby" or "babe" or even "hon," but he—in his words—considers a large nickname vocabulary to be diverse and for the better.

"what the fuck are you talking about, dude?" you laugh.

rintarou rolls onto his back to look at you as you rest against the bed's headboard.

he squints at you and frowns—the look of disbelief on his face isn't at the term, but your reaction. "you're supposed to get me like no one else as the love of my life."

you raise an eyebrow. "maybe you should try making more sense?"

"i'm gonna 'dude-zone' you until you take that back."

"rin—"

"what, dude?"

ATSUMU instinctively responds as if you were osamu, not used to hearing the word in your voice. as soon as it clicks, he's as offended as you'd expect him to be. it becomes nonsensical bickering as soon as you act offended, until you're both laughing and ‘apologizing’ to each other.

“dude, where is my towel?”

“huh? i dunno, why would i touch your nasty ass towel?” he asks, eyes honed in on the game on his monitor.

you blink, and a moment passes before atsumu finally whips around. “wait, ‘dude’?”

his expression mirrors yours as laughter builds in your stomach. “what the hell did you just say to me?”

“y’just called me dude!”

“my nasty ass towel?”

atsumu’s own words finally hit him and he stutters, “babe- wait- i thought you were ’samu—”

“samu?!”

“wait—”

AONE’s gotten so used to you calling his first name, or using terms of endearment that he thinks he’s done something wrong. his anxiety doesn’t last long, not when you take a look at his hesitant expression and posture while he works up the courage to ask about it. he wishes it didn’t bother him so much, but he admits that he’d like having a special name, or just his first instead.

“hey, dude, can you pass me my charger?”

“...huh?”

“my charger? it’s next to the couch by your feet,” you explain.

takanobu’s brows furrow as he quietly picks it up and hands it to you. he wonders if he’s imagining things when you shoot him your regular smile and thank him.

a few minutes go by, and it’s nowhere near unusual for the both of you to sit quietly together, but he hasn’t sat comfortably since you asked for your charger. moving closer, you apologize and hold onto his arm. “’m kidding, ’nobu, just wanted to see your reaction.”

his body relaxes as the both of you lean into each other, and he smiles, albeit a little embarrassed. “that’s good to know.”

also his dad. cliff has spent hours on the phone with his son sharing stories and reassuring cove that he's going to be just fine

don't get me wrong though, he definitely spends a lot of time alone researching things himself. what you should be eating, any exercises that might help, how to help deal with back pain, etc.

i'm talking parenting books, youtube videos, those mommy blogs, everything

sometimes he knows things even You didn't think/know of. he takes pride in it

i don't know if you guys have seen it/know what i'm talking about but cove would do the thing where he stands behind you and lifts/holds your belly so you can rest for a little bit

the conversations you have about baby names are so...interesting. they happen sporadically when one of you sees something that inspires a name. i'm not saying poppy is a name put on the table but also yes i am?

the both of you start to shop for baby clothes and he almost breaks down in the middle of the store when he sees the shoes. he compares them to his hand and he turns to you with this look of awe/despair. "they're so small. their feet are so tiny, oh my god."

starts panicking over how he's going to handle or hold a baby over it. please help before a worker comes over to check on him

definitely gets lots of toys and At Least one outfit that says something about waves or surfing

there's a lot of evenings where you both get sappy and emotional over the thought of your future child. he talks about all the things he wants to do, how he wants to take them to the beach, how he wants to let them visit their grandparents/relatives whenever it's possible, how he's scared he'll mess up somehow

you have to remind him that parenthood isn't going to be easy, but you have each other and you'll do your best. also that he's going to be a Great dad,, look at how much he cares for you and his baby already

the first time he feels your baby kick he cries

he definitely lays and talks to your belly . it's adorable

^ one time he thought you were asleep and started rambling about how you two met and how much he loves you

whenever he comes home, no matter how long he's been gone, he says hi to you then bends down to do the same to your baby. he asks how you're doing, saying he missed both of you

he. he watches you waddle around and has to stop himself from grinning and hugging you

he tries really hard to cuddle. it doesn't matter how, he's going to figure it out because nothing will take it away from him (except maybe you getting a pregnancy pillow)

goes with you to every appointment. if for some forsaken reason he can't, 1) he's upset and 2) he makes sure to pick you up and check on you after it's over

“I’ve seen this troupe before. Their harpist isn’t quite as skilled as your favourite, but they play well with the lutist,” he continues until he’s sitting on your bedside with a plate of sliced fruit.

Your eyes flicker to the other plate he left for lunch, half untouched, and you nearly tuck yourself further into the covers already pulled to your chin.

Vere’s own gaze slides toward it, and worry flickers across his expression before he tucks it away, wordlessly switching the dishes.

“I’m okay.”

Your voice has his head nearly snapping toward you. The sensation of speaking almost feels unnatural, and your words comes out a little croaky. Clearing your throat, you try again. “I’m okay.”

Vere’s ear twitches, and his tail slows to rest over your knee as he cocks his head. His eyes are searching, but kind in the way you’ve gotten to know them. “Is that a response to the troupe, or the food?”

Your response, now, is silence.

His own follows in turn.

Nothing about his gaze changes, but the searching sensation suddenly feels sour, churns whatever’s in your stomach over and in on itself like being hungry for the food on the plate might stave his attention.

“I’m okay, Vere.” You shift, falling further into the pillow. “Thank you. You can leave if you want.”

“And if I don’t?”

“...Sorry?”

His tail slides across the covers, its warmth permeating through. “You’re not okay.”

You wince at the bluntness, and Vere’s eyes soften along with his tone. “You’re not.” He says your name, and something clutches your chest and squeezes.

“Don’t lie and say that you are,”—he puts the old plate beside the new one and slides into bed, allowed as you shift backward—“not to me.”

His tail finds its spot across your thighs, his arms around your back as he tucks your face into the crook of his neck. Your hands and arms hover awkwardly at chest-level, caught off guard.

Vere’s cologne—the one you like best, the one that he sprays on date nights before sending a flirty smirk—wraps around your figure, its own blanket with his hold.

A hand starts to rub your back, and your eyes begin to sting. Finally moving to hug him, you clutch the back of his top and bury further into him like it might protect you. Stop everything, fix everything.

And you think, know, Vere will hold you like this for a long time. Hesitantly, you ask, “Don’t you have work today?”

“No.” He presses a kiss to your head and hums. “I’m taking the day off.”

“Since when could you do that?”

“Since now.”

Vere’s response manages to pull a breathy laugh from you, and you think you feel him smile against you.

His figure blocks the calendar from your vision completely.

“I miss them.”

Vere stills for half a second before his soothing continues. Your lips wobble and the stinging in your eyes finally manifests as salty tears in their corners. “I miss them a lot.”

You don’t know if Vere’s ever dealt with something similar; it’s something you’ve never broached before, and maybe you will in the future. But for now, at least, experience or not, he holds you.

The words and memories that resurfaced with every day leading to now start to spill out of you, a flood that hits Vere’s red maple, a tsunami against mangrove.

He holds you and listens to every story, smiles when you do, pulls you closer when you start to choke up. He dismisses your apologies for his tear-stained fabric and skin, and coaxes you to speak when you can, to breathe.

At some point, you both sit up as the sun sets against colourful roofs. The fruit beside your bed aren’t as fresh as they were before, but you reach for them anyway.

Vere raises a brow as you pick up the plate. “There are more fruit that aren’t nearly as stale, you know.”

You shrug and fork the first piece. “I don’t want these to go to waste.”

He huffs affectionately but pulls the plate away. The fruit sits still in your mouth as you shoot him a look, and he snorts at your filled cheek. “You don’t need to worry about that. These will be filling market stalls for days, I’d barely make a dent cutting up a dozen.”

Standing up, Vere stretches his arms and legs. “Besides, I don’t think these ones were ripe enough. Stay there, I’ll be back.”

Swallowing the slice you managed to take, you ask, “Can I come?”

Your question makes him pause.

The stillness in your bedroom isn’t as suffocating anymore, and you think you’ll sleep better tonight than you have been the past week. But your legs start to move before you can talk yourself out of it, feet finding their place in your slippers finally warmed by something other than the sun.

he plays with his wedding band when he's anxious. he plays with yours when you're around and he's anxious

if you wrote your vows down somewhere he'd ask to see the script. he is kicking his feet giggling and crying a little. makes sure they're kept somewhere safe

taking a photo with cove while you're in your wedding outfits to make your phone backgrounds i hope i perish

whenever a song that you had at your wedding plays he looks over at you with a knowing grin. depending on where you are he'll playfully ask if you'd like to dance

would visit the bakery you guys went to for your cake so he could finally get a look at all the things he stopped himself from running to. may or may not ask for the flavours you picked for your wedding just so he can experience it again

you know when little kids say things without a filter. like all the time. i'm imagining a kid seeing you together and being like "are you two Dating? is that guy your Boyfriend?" and he blinks before going "actually i'm their Husband" and grins in success when the kid goes "WOAH"

whenever someone congratulates him on the wedding it makes his Entire day and makes sure they know that he's the lucky one. and good luck to anyone who asks anything else because he will unapologetically go into how everything went and how much he loves you and why and

on anniversaries of your wedding (they slow down from like,, weekly to monthly) he makes sure to remind you and do something special, whether its breakfast in bed or a date or whatever else

sometimes it hits him all over again that you're married and you want to be with him the rest of your life the same way he wants to be with you. he comes up to you with tears in his eyes before hugging you even though it's a random tuesday evening . when you ask what's wrong you get a muffled sob and "i love you so much" into your shirt

His usually haphazardly thrown covers have been fixed and smoothed more often at your chiding and care. In a way, it's odd to see his bed now: similar to its old state, blanket thrown only across your torso yet holding Princess entirely except her head and tail, pillows at your head and at the foot.

Lips quirking in amusement, Ais steps over creaky floorboards and crouches at the edge of the bed that you're nearly hanging over. There's a book flipped open beneath your hand resting across Princess's back.

She's taken great liking to you and your voice, and "reading time" has become a new nightly go-to after your escapades. Most times you switch with Ais sitting beside you, trading on and off until Princess is asleep or you're too tired to continue. (He won't count this time since he wasn't here, but there's a tracked number of who falls asleep first, and he always reminds you you're losing by a long shot.)

The fourth reading night in, Ais realized he enjoyed your company at home long after city walks and bar hopping.

Silence fills the Seaspring's halls more than he'd like without you.

Even with Princess and the Soulless and occasional visitor, the echo of his footsteps is often only accompanied by creaks or ripples across the red depths. It's temporary noise that always returns to something empty.

Lonely.

It's why he visits the Wet Wick on nights cold enough to deter most from leaving their homes, and likely why his footsteps are quicker than usual when he hears your call.

Ais's expression softens as he takes in your sleeping state, watching your chest rise and fall. Before he realizes it, his hand is reaching for you.

A thumb rubs arcs over the apple of your cheek, gentle to keep you from waking. (Soft as if you might disappear otherwise.)

This is different, he thinks. Your presence. Not suffocating or cold, but warm.

Quiet more than silence.

A huff sounds, then a sniff, two.

Ais pauses as eyes open, and a tail starts to thump against the mattress.

Princess lifts her head to greet him, and his smile brightens while his voice stays low, "Hi, princess."

She clicks and purrs, matching the gravel in his voice.

Her weight shifts and dips enough to stir you awake.

Ais runs his hand through Princess's tendrils as your brows furrow and eyes squint open. Nearer speaking volume, he teases, "Sleep well? Haven't seen my bed like this in ages."

You groan and smush your face into the mattress. Voice muffled, you reply, "Thanks to me."

Princess moves at the sound of your voice, head nudging yours.

"Mm. My saviour. What would I do if no one fixed my blanket so I could mess it up again?"

"Oh, so you'd like me to stop?" You ask, turning to face him with raised brows.

Princess noses your now visible face and pulls a breathy laugh from your chest. Quickly adopting Ais's role and scratching her favourite spots, you pout in dramatic disbelief. "You'd do that to our sweet girl?"

"Our" pokes at Ais's chest.

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue in return.

"Didn't say that," he replies, a beat slower than intended, with a slight tilt of his head.

"Maybe you should stay here more often to do it,"—his eyes flicker between you both—"for Princess."

The sound of her name gets her attention, and she turns to nudge him once more in affection. He starts to pet her the same moment you falter at his words.

Most times, it's Ais already looking at you by the time you can meet his gaze. This time it's him coming in second, cautioning a glance at your expression.

The poke that followed "our" pokes again when he sees you're already smiling.

Fingers flick your forehead before you can wave them away. “Ack- god, ’Samu!”

He snorts and pulls you off the stool, forcing your head into his chest and muffling your groan while he pinches your cheek. “I should kick ya outta my kitchen for harassin’ the chef.”

“But he’s so hot and handsome, what am I meant to do?” you huff.

“At least don’t say I’m making croissants. Am I French?”

“Woah,”—you push away from his chest—“take that back right now. You know I’d never date a French man.”

“Then why’d ya say croissants?”

“I don’t know, it was the first pastry I thought of! I love, I don’t know, macarons—”

Amusement lights up his face as his arm takes you back into a head lock. “Macarons? The also French desert—”

“Fuck, stop, wait, oh my god, please,” a sound between a laugh and cry escapes you.

Osamu cackles when you smack his chest with one hand, covering your face with the other. The onigiri is forgotten on the counter as he pulls it away to uncover your face, fingers threading through the spaces between yours.

Your laughter dies down, and after using your free hand to pick a stray grain of rice off his shirt, you pout. “Whatever, not French man. Are you gonna kick me out of the kitchen for ogling you now?”

He only rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not like y’don’t already ogle me outside of the kitchen.”

Another smack comes to his chest as you scoff. “Wow. Okay, it’s because I love you, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course you love the hot, handsome guy who cooks for you,” Osamu brushes off your defense and picks up the last finished onigiri.

The bolded MIYA greets you when you pull away to look at it, and Osamu wonders if it’d be selfish to say he wanted you to say no, if he confessed his heart jumped at the immediate shake of your head—“It’s not the same, though.”

You gently tug at the fabric and name, twisting it between your fingers. “I love ’Tsumu, but in a very different way than I love you.”

Your boyfriend does his best to tuck a stupidly lovesick smile away, along with the satisfaction and pride swelling in his chest, all behind a deep sigh and hum in thought.

He turns to wrap an arm around your shoulder where he picks stray lint off your shirt. “We have my old high school jerseys somewhere.” And he almost laughs at the speed you gasp and let your jaw fall.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, kept most of our school stuff after we graduated. Wanna see if one fits?”

“Yes?” You shove his chest, not trying to, but unable to move him all the same. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding your old high school stuff from me.”

“Well it’s not like I did it on purpose! Had no reason to go lookin’ for it,” he defends himself. You know he’s right—you met long after the twins’ graduation when it had all been packed up ages ago, and Osamu no longer felt the need to take his jersey out just to see it, mind filled with business instead of volleyball, a new black uniform fitted to his form.

“Well now we do, Miya,” you tease, the last name an old acquaintance sitting oddly on your tongue, “so you better get looking before I change my mind and ask Atsumu’s for his instead.”

hcs. yeahghhh

made him very soft here. as i always do. but depending on the situation/your relationship, he might tease you when he first sees you coming down the stairs—sneezing and sniffling then calling his name with a rasp in your voice. "told ya y'should've brought your jacket." "nuh uh, can't kiss you when you're coughin' everywhere." etc etc but you know. he's osamu. he's gonna take care of you and let you win anyway

osamu cooking up/buying your cravings... sometimes you feel bad, but to be fair he asked if you have any first. he's offering. stop avoiding his question. from the store like 20 minutes away? that's fine, he'll be back quick, don't set any fires while he's gone

the first time you ask him to feed you he's soo flustered. tries to play it off like What? Are you a baby? and even after all this time, though he won't admit it, he still gets a little shy when you thank him too much for it hebdbdsjd

^ it's osamu though. he'll tease you with Here comes the plane/trainnnn HEBSBSBJS then you're like Omfg Nevermind and he's like no no no, open up, y'can't get outta this now

(reader on period) would keep his hand splayed across your stomach like a heat pack. instinctively rubs circles when you cramp or whine

(reader on period) he sees that video where the boyfriend was asked to get pads with wings and he got chicken wings and Seriously debates doing it himself (before pulling out the right pads.) he might not the first time but,, he does do it once. snorts/laughs so hard at your reaction he hurts his nose a little

His armour has been replaced with a dark tunic and pants, a heavy fabric to guard against chilling weather. (You had offered a white vest that he thanked but declined; it was too pristine for the place you’d visit, too obvious your outing wouldn’t be familiar.) The only metal Keiji (visibly) dons rests below his collarbones—the gold necklace you gifted him in his first year of service. His sword waits against the table, the leather of his scabbard warmed by flickers of the lamp light above.

Blue-gray eyes bore into you—neither cold nor enticed, simply unswayed—as Keiji brings his forearms to rest on the table, matching your lean. “Because anyone would notice a fully armed royal guard, and someone wanted to sneak out.”

“Yes, and you let me! And you’re saying you won’t even share a drink?”

“I’ve sworn to protect you. I can’t do that tipsy off cheap ale,” he sighs, sliding back into his seat, posture straight. “If all goes well, my sword’s handle will only be warmed by my guard, not a drunk decision.”

“So you want to watch me sit here, doing nothing but sip piss from a mug alone?" You huff. "Surely you won’t let me find another charming companion for the night either. Why did you even let me leave, much less follow me, Keiji?”

Someone yells behind Keiji about another round of drinks, while a table in sight laughs at their barmaid’s joke.

Beneath your frustration, disappointment washes over you, and Keiji notes how your shoulders slump and lips purse. His gaze softens, focused on your figure rather than his surroundings. He leans in again.

You blink, but only hesitate a moment before meeting him at the table’s middle. The air between you warms, and Keiji’s voice has to stay near speaking, but it’s as good as a whisper while a rowdy group marches in singing.

“I don’t know what you hope to find in this place, but I won’t stop you so long as it’s in good sense. And I came because I’ll follow you anywhere,” he says your name, a level quieter than the rest of his words, and your stomach flutters, aches. “I promised you that years ago.”

Your lips part at his words, and Keiji’s eyes flicker to them, if only for a moment. But you’re in a tavern, far from home and its sweet flower gardens, and he can smell the stench of sweat and boots caked in manure from dozens of people’s travels on the road, and nowhere could be a worse place for the thoughts he pushes away.

Before you can reply, he parts again, looking between his sword to the establishment’s residents, skipping over your expression. The air empties with his disappearance as he tucks away softness for adamant eyes once more.

“So long as I stay sober, and you don’t enter a room with some shifty stranger that’s completely beneath you, Your Highness. But to be frank, everyone here is just that,” Keiji’s snark comes uncontrolled, accompanied by a grimace and sigh.

His snark and title helps push away the swirling emotions that you always find yourself in around him lately. You barely manage a breathy laugh.

Looking around, it doesn’t seem like you can disagree. But you retort anyway, if only to push down the lump in your throat, if only to prove you can—“That’s rude, Akaashi. You shouldn’t judge people so quickly. There might be lovely partners in bed that you’re keeping away.”

Keiji tenses. Relaxes as he was trained to. “Keeping people away is part of my job.”

“Mm, it is, isn’t it?” You tap your fingers against the table, lighthearted tone caught in a wave of something achingly bitter as you trace a swirl in its wood. Meeting his gaze, you continue, “Though if you know anyone who might meet your expectations for the role of my significant other, please do let me know. I’d love to meet them. Oh—excuse me!”

Lifting your hand to grab a barmaid’s attention, your eyes leave your guard’s and glimmer as someone else—a simple traveler hoping for something to wash their journey away for a few hours.

"I mean, if you aren't gonna do anything about it, yes," you test, pulling back as much as you can with his arm around you.

It's a short-lived escape attempt; his hand is quick to bring you back while the other pulls your thigh over his legs so you straddle him. Your phone slips out of your hand onto the rug below the bed. "Oh my god, Keiji!"

Keiji's mouth wobbles as he tries to stifle a laugh. "Sorry. Is this okay, then?"

Whatever retort you think of falls apart as soon as his grip slides from your hips to your ass where his thumbs run slow circles over your sweatpants. You huff to conceal the deep breath you need. It's a game, you think, one with no repercussions (at least, that are unwanted)—seeing who'll crumble first.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ask, "What? Is this it?"

Before he can reply, you press closer. Keiji's breath hitches as you press into him, and you feel him twitch the same time you see the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows.

"You don't want anything else, baby?" you ask, tone languid as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Fuck," your boyfriend softly laughs, biting his bottom lip. He looks up at you and this time it's your turn to tilt your head, raise your brows, smile. Feigned innocence—a failure compared to the satisfaction on your face.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asks, anything but nonchalance in his voice.

You barely nod before his lips find yours, so quick that your noses bump and you almost reflexively pull away.

Keiji's lips are soft as he presses hard into you, grip keeping you in place above him. A citrus floral scent swirls, and you breathe it, him, in.

He hums into the kiss, steady unlike his hands that knead heat up and down your back like he could mold you even closer. One rises to cup your face while the other plays with the band of your pants, fingers traveling to rest just underneath. You let out a quiet moan at the sensation and Keiji brightens, his teeth meeting your lips as he snickers.

Still close enough you can count his lashes, you pull away to complain, "Don't laugh at me."

His eyes open, blown out and heavy-lidded. "Sorry," he says, half-apologetic if you're lucky. Then he looks at your lips again before pressing a chaste kiss. Two.

The third is deeper, and when his tongue prods your lips apart you forget why you pulled away in the first place.

Your mind starts turning to static as Keiji's tongue moves against yours, hot and addictive. It's subconscious, the way you're grinding into him. It's fully aware that Keiji rocks back. The movement steadies—back and forth, up into you—until you finally notice the hard outline of his cock through his pajama pants and start rutting against it. Keiji moans, and your core heats at the sound as he sneaks his fingers lower in your sweatpants to hold your ass.

He's needy, almost embarrassingly so. He remembers when he used to be shy about wanting you, keeping it to the privacy of his bedroom and hand. But now, as you run over his bottom teeth with your tongue and drag your fingers down his chest to circle his nipple, he can barely think to take your shirt off fast enough to placate himself.

Instead of returning to your lips, he targets their corner. His laugh at your whine escapes breathy, hot against your skin as he moves to your jaw. You tilt your head to give him access and he takes it greedily. Wet kisses travel down to your neck and you grin, giddy and needy for Keiji's disheveled state and how he's bucking into you.

"Do you wanna take your pants off?" you ask, keeping your hips square and inviting the pressure of his hard-on against you.

"No," he murmurs, kisses moving lower.

"You sure?"

"Mm."

"You almost came in them last time," you tease.

"It's fine. Doesn't matter." he reassures before latching onto your chest and running his tongue around your nipple. His hand slides up your torso to play with the other, thumb gentle and teasing.

You sigh in contentment and let yourself relax in his grip. Keiji looks up, sucking the pebbled nub. He presses one last kiss before parting, and his voice is raspy as he asks, "Wanna take off yours?"

Something coils in your stomach at the sight of his face flushed against you. Collecting whatever composure you have left, you tease, "Oh, you wanna take my pants off?"

His smile is lopsided, loving and heady. "Always."

The coil in your stomach tightens. "Gross."

You move to pull them off anyway.

"Think I can make you cum with your underwear on?" he asks while maneuvering to help.

"Oh my god." You almost fall, sweatpants getting stuck on the back of your knees.

Keiji laughs as he keeps you upright, pulling the fabric down and off before laying the both of you back onto the bed, him between your legs. He plants his hands next to your head. "Didn't answer my question."

"Because you're gross," you retort, no disgust in how you laugh and push his bangs out of his face.

"Am not."

"Are." You hold and squish his cheeks, earning a scrunched nose and furrowed brows. "Horny and gross—oh, fuck—"

Keiji drops to his forearms the same time his hips grind into you, the movement familiar and practiced whether with layers of fabric between you or none.

You shift to meet his weight more than you already are chest-to-chest, but he keeps still. You groan, "Keiji."

He puffs a breath of laughter before leaning close. "Gross," he teases and bites your earlobe before capturing your lips once more.

His eyes close almost immediately, but for a second or two you let yourself watch him. Keiji's pretty on his worst days, and this any other. You softly moan and let your eyes fall shut while his tongue dances with yours, the sensation intoxicating. Your hands travel his back, wrinkling his shirt with every clench. Distantly, you're aware that you're nearly naked while your boyfriend's still fully clothed, but you can't bring yourself to care for it more than sliding your touch beneath the fabric.

As soon as your fingers meet his spine, Keiji ruts against you harder, groaning into your mouth, impatient. You mirror his movement, rocking to meet his thrusts and moaning at the friction between layers of cotton. Brain foggy, his cock throbs beneath his sweatpants, tip leaking precum against his abdomen. It isn't enough, but at the same time something about the fabric boundary only makes him harder. (But nothing stops him from thinking about how you feel with it gone, how wet you are beneath, and how fucking good it'd be to tease your opening and fuck you later.)

Again and again Keiji grinds into you as your kisses grow more desperate. He presses himself close, trapping you beneath his body, and you return the favour by tugging his hair and letting your nails rake his back. He grunts at the sting and pulls your hips up to meet his. As he thrusts, the head of his cock catches on the opening of your underwear, pulling an embarrassing whine spills from your throat that's swallowed greedily by Keiji's mouth. You mumble against his lips, "Gonna cum."

Your boyfriend hums in acknowledgement before speeding his pace against you. Detaching from your lips, he pants next to your ear, brows furrowed as he focuses on you and your pleasure. While he doesn't doubt he's about to cum himself, sweatpants be damned, he keeps his pace steady against the places you like and need him most.

"Baby," you whine and hold him closer, the wetness in your underwear becoming more and more apparent. Your voice only spurs him on as he deepens his movement and starts whispering praise into your ear. All your senses are overwhelmed by him; there's nothing but Keiji and the tightening in your core. Whatever he's saying blurs together and you can only focus on a few words at a time—so good to me, so good, please, fuck, cum for me.

You squeeze your eyes shut and grip onto anything, everything from his shoulders to groping his ass, unable to escape the pleasure from beneath him (not that you want to anyway). You can't help bucking your hips up, earning a whine from Keiji who sneaks his arms beneath your shoulders to steady himself.

Your release builds quicker than you expect and your breath hitches in your throat. You stop breathing as it washes over you in waves, coil in your stomach finally coming undone. "Ah, fuck, fuck—"

Keiji's pace falls apart as he follows you. He tucks his face into your neck to muffle his moans, but you can feel his member throbbing and the warmth of his release against you as you press into him and hold the back of his head. Both of you twitch and cling to each other, sweat rolling down your temples and back.

The room is quiet besides your heavy breathing, and the bed sheets shifting as Keiji tangles his legs with yours. Your eyes are closed as he lifts his head enough to kiss the corner of your lips. "Gross," he parrots again, a satisfied smile pressed to your cheek as he pants.

Still holding his head, you smack his back and half-groan half-laugh, "I hate you."

Keiji falls back to the crook of your neck and nuzzles, black wisps of hair tickling you. "Because I'm gross?"

You comb his hair behind his ear. "Because you're annoying."