?*?∞:?.?「Fugo Loveposting」?.?:∞?*?

In which you give Purple Haze a smooch (to Fugo's dismay.)

Hi, I don't feel great about the last chapters I posted here (that's why they're not there anymore, I might fix them, maybe), so I'm instead bringing you the kind of content I'm actually suited for making.

I can't do this anymore, if I don't write Purple Haze related fluff I'm going to explode.

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You managed to balance yourself on the bed being just on your knees. Once there, you sneaked your hands behind the stand's visor and carefully hovered them over his eyes. "Guess who?" You asked, playfully grinning and not really making an effort to conceal yourself.

"Rrrrrrwwhhh," Purple Haze made a noise in response, confusedly putting one of his hands on top of yours. You weren't really covering his eyes, and even if you were it would matter little, clearly he didn't understand the purpose of it. Not like you were expecting him to.

You turned your head toward the other end of the room to find your boyfriend pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed with slight irritation. "Could you stop that, [y/n]?"

"Nope," you responded. Fugo groaned.

By this point, it wasn't so much of a concern that something could happen—you were confident it wouldn't—but understandably Fugo still struggled with the idea of letting you interact with his stand as if it were nothing.

You'd worked through it and surely you weren't pushing him around or anything. He still flinched a little when you got too close to Purple Haze, he couldn't help it.

You drew your hands back and took a seat beside the stand. Most times he would do little more than sit on the floor idly, if you were lucky enough to see him for more than a minute. You'd taken notice that everyone's stands had been... hanging around lately. This mostly meant hearing Aerosmith's engine roaring as background noise a lot of the time, and occasionally finding Sticky Fingers and Moody Blues casually sitting on the living room couch for no apparent reason.

There were also the Pistols, floating around and whining for food, but that much was nothing new.

When Purple Haze started doing the same thing, Fugo was worried. You? You were delighted.

"He doesn't mean any harm," you'd argue.

"It doesn't matter whether he means it or not!" Fugo would reply.

Perhaps he was right. He was most likely right. He was right a lot more often than you were.

Most of all you didn't like seeing him worked up, so when he'd notice that Purple Haze had manifested only to call his stand away, you didn't say anything. That didn't stop the phenomenon, is the thing. Purple Haze would keep coming back, and he always approached you.

He'd take you by the waist and hold you up, making noises akin to growling, though not hostile. You found it endearing, giggling and attempting to twirl around with him as soon as he put you down. Needless to say, Fugo wasn't a fan.

However, it had gone on long enough that he had largely relaxed about it.

You wrapped your arms around the stand's arm and leaned your head on it. "Look at him! He's done nothing wrong~" You cooed, rubbing your cheek to him with a grin.

Fugo, still standing by the doorway, took a deep breath. "I would like to disagree."

"To me," you clarified, scratching the back of your neck, "he's done nothing wrong to me."