.

No vacancy

.

"You're gonna have to answer your phone eventually."

He grunts.

"Don't make that face at me," Tatsuki orders, "no one told you had to post your girlfriend as part of your Instagram take-over."

"It was the last day," he protests. Ichigo figured they'd have lost interest in him by now regardless of the surge of new followers on the app when he'd introduced himself.

"Yes, and while I appreciate your posts of your very aesthetic looking writing spaces, your cat, and infuriatingly vague captions to boot, Rukia is the first person you featured."

He gives her a blank look which she huffs at.

"The first person with a face and not some voice behind a camera," Tatsuki corrects, and she'd been pissed that he didn't show himself on camera, choosing instead to point the camera at his couch, Kon curled up on the cushion, mug steaming on the center table with the bookcase behind it. Ichigo should get points for how good he made it all look.

Though, he did. Technically.

Yuzu and Karin had found out, somehow.

And while they praised his composition – really, Rukia got the credit for her suggestions – it hadn't been pretty.

There was yelling involved, and threats to travel across the country to yell at him in person because apparently our big brother is a bestselling writer and we're still taking the bus? Ichi-nii, you're the worst!

While he worried they'd have opinions about the content of his writing, they hadn't brought it up, and after the initial introduction he'd posted after taking the social media account off the hands of the media team from the publishing company, the twins' only actual thoughts were about his recent post: A photo of Rukia propped up on his pillows, sketchbook in hand, brows furrowed adorably with her cheek streaked with charcoal, pink tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth. He'd captioned it simply as my captive audience.

It had only been a day since that post was put up, and the comment section and his Instagram inbox were completely nuked.

He silenced everything in response, though it certainly hadn't stopped his sisters from calling his personal phone ever since.

He knew it was futile, of course, but he told himself he was only putting it off until after the reading was over.

There'd be a big stink about it since, as Tatsuki said, no one had seen him yet, and really, Ichigo's strategy amounted to hiding from headache to headache, but no one said he was good at this.

His only saving grace was that Rukia hadn't said anything about it, and she would've by now.

She'd been over at his loft practically every day.

Though, he hadn't seen her since this morning.

She'd burrowed and hoarded his sheets the night before, but come morning Rukia had been sun-drenched, golden light warming pale skin and spilling shades of blue and brown into her usually black hair. She'd made a face at being stared at, even in her dozing, before she squinted at him in disgruntlement, she mumbled in complaint, "You're being creepy" before she eventually rolled over to climb out of bed.

He'd been baffled, at first, at how disciplined she was to get up as soon as she woke, but he hadn't found room to complain when she'd wander to the bathroom as naked as when she'd gone to bed.

He'd heard the shower go, and he must've dozed again because by the time he opens his eyes, Rukia is leaning on her hands on their mussed sheets to kiss him good morning and goodbye before wishing him a good day, and he'd been in bed after since.

Probably why Tatsuki had grumbled and complained about his laziness, having barged into the loft to find him still in bed like a total slob, god, it's a miracle you get anything done, Kurosaki. Before she reamed into him about the Instagram thing and well –

Here they were.

Three hours later, and a whole new location on top of that, and she was still giving him shit. Ichigo can blame at least half of that on the twins.

"I can't believe you didn't tell them you and Rukia were a thing," Tatsuki grumbles, and despite her bitching, he knows her phone's been suspiciously quiet this entire time too.

"It's been like two weeks, forgive me for wanting to keep her to myself," he defends.

"And yet you showed her off to your 50k followers," Tatsuki deadpans.

"It's a complicated feeling," he admits. It wasn't like he confirmed they were together, necessarily. But his sisters knew how closely he guarded his space. If he let Rukia in it, and she was as comfortable as she looked, well.

"You're actually so dumb," Tatsuki marvels.

"Thanks, really," he says flatly, any other retort interrupted by the door opening, Renji looking a little bewildered.

"Dude."

"What?"

"There's like…a shitton of people out there," Renji informs, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "I didn't know you were that popular. Grimm looks like he's going to get run over, and he's this close to just throwing himself in traffic to avoid it altogether."

"Seems counterinitiative," Tatsuki hums, then turns to Ichigo to prompt, "You ready?"

"Wait, how many people are out there?"

"Couple hundred," she shrugs like it's nothing.

Ichigo protests, "The venue's too small for -"

"Yeah, most of them are crowded out on the sidewalk," she waves off, again, like its not a big deal. "Why do you think we went through the back?"

"I thought you were just being dramatic," he answers blandly.

The look she sends him is flat, though it shifts when the bookshop owner peeks around Renji in the doorway to ask, "Everyone ready?"

Tatsuki opens her mouth to say yes, but Ichigo isn't.

Renji, thank god, interjects with, "Let's give them a couple of minutes to calm down." Like it's the people outside that are freaking out and not Ichigo himself.

Tatsuki, fortunately, doesn't disagree, only sighs and says to Ichigo, "Five minutes. Do not run."

He mumbles, "I wasn't going to."

To her credit, she doesn't grace him with a disbelieving look and only leaves him to sulk, dragging Renji off because, "Grimmjow can't be trusted around normal people, god, I hired you both for a reason. The two of you only amount to half a decent human being."

The door shuts, and the room suddenly feels even more suffocating than before now that he doesn't have Tatsuki giving him crap and distracting him with everything but the reading. He can't decide if it was a genius move to get him to leave his house and to the venue, or she just knows him well enough that he needed the distraction.

Though, now that there's nothing to side-track him and he can feel the anxiety rising in his chest like a tide.

It crashes with the door opening, Rukia appearing in the reflection of the mirror.

"Hey," she says, smile cheerful, but voice low – like she's talking to a small, nervous woodland creature. With the size of his eyes, he wouldn't blame her. No one but his mom had ever called him Bambi, but Ichigo probably wouldn't blame anyone for trying.

Rukia isn't fazed when he doesn't reply, only drapes her arms around him from behind, rubs his shoulder on one side and tucking her face on the other. It's only when the added weight of her presses his shoulder down from where they were touching his ears, does he actually realize how tense he is.

He sighs.

Finally, "I'm okay."

"I know," she replies, pressing her lips against the apple of his cheek, smiling against his skin as he huffs out a breath that's the most cursory of complaints.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, and though he means for it to sound accusing – Rukia hadn't said she'd be coming – instead, the question comes out like a bashful whine. His cheeks betray him too.

She kisses the same side again, hums. "You think I'd miss this for anything?"

Squeezing his shoulder and locking eyes with him in the mirror, she adds, "Hisana came with which is a relief because Byakuya-niisama is here too."

"What?"

With another hum, she says with a bit of a laugh, "It turns out, brother dearest is a fan of yours." Ichigo is so startled by the revelation he snorts, and Rukia continues in amusement, "Right? Anyway, he saw me and Hisana, and after I introduced them Hisana wanted to have words with him."

He perks. "Are they gonna turn the bookshop into a battleground? Does she need back-up? Renji and Grimmjow will throw down, just say the word."

"You're just suggesting that so you won't have to do this reading."

He groans.

"And yes, I do know you that well," she teases, pulling away just enough to lightly work at the tightened muscles of his shoulders.

Rebelliously, Ichigo tries not to melt under her hands, but Rukia's had his number since day one, and he's more relaxed and stupider for it, almost believing the tiny voice in his head that tells him it'll all be okay. Which is exactly when Rukia drops the bomb, "Your dad is here."

"What."

"He's super nice, looks just like you," she tells him casually as she continues to rub his shoulders.

"How did -"

"He wanted me to tell you that your sisters are terrible at keeping secrets." Pauses, then, amused, "And that he now knows how to Instagram." Lower, "I think he has a hashtag problem."

"Oh god." Ichigo wants to ask so many things that only his dad could probably answer, though he has no doubt that Rukia may know more than she's letting on given how his dad tends to be an oversharer.

Jesus, he wouldn't put it past the old man to have shown a few people his baby pictures already. He groans at the thought.

"He saved me a seat while I came to calm you down," Rukia finishes, a smile still curling her worlds as she drapes her arms around him again, cheek to cheek with him. "Like I said, he's really nice. Careful, Ichigo, I might just leave you for your dad."

He huffs. "You're the worst."

"It's called having taste; upgrading," she teases, and though he tries to look unimpressed, his lips pull into a half-smile, and she leans over to kiss it in something chaste and sweet.

Their foreheads are pressed together when she pulls away, but their mouths are still too close that they're practically still kissing with every word, Rukia tells him, quiet but firm, "You'll do great. Just look at me."

.

Three months later, it's finally over.

Ichigo is finally back from the grueling press junket Yoruichi imposed after the success of his identity reveal: live readings, book signings, media interviews, and a couple of meetings with directors about selling the movie rights to one of his books. He's exhausted, and while Urahara's already talking about the next book's launch despite Tatsuki still editing it, Ichigo's firmly on the route of taking this one day at a time.

He carries some mail in, drops the carry-on he'd brought with for his last event onto the floor, and breathes in the smell of pizza warming in the oven.

Despite only being away for a day – it feels like he been gone longer. Probably because he's been a certifiable homebody ever since he'd managed to eke a living off his books. Now that he's gone public, those days are probably behind him.

At least for three months of the year.

In any case, the loft looks just as he'd left it: His laptop is still set up on the dining table, a screen saver collection of photos of his family, Kon, Rukia and them together in varying degrees is flashing across the screen; the throw blanket Rukia usually had over her legs because she was always cold is folded, her sketchbook set on top of it along with her charcoal; and he's satisfied to find that the artwork he'd put up of hers – sketches she'd snuck into his carry-ons whenever she couldn't make it for his readings – are still in their proper places despite her threat to take them down.

On one of the barstools Rukia brought to replace his one after a particularly adventurous evening, Kon meows, and Ichigo spares a moment to scratch at the yellow cat's head.

Upstairs, his shower is running.

A "welcome home" placard on the kitchen counter greets him against a neat pile of his books; all books Rukia showed up with at almost every reading she could attend to get him to sign. Even though his eyes roll, he smiles.

Setting aside the mail, the utilities and rent bill catches his eye enough to get him to consider swinging by Urahara's downstairs to pay it. He double-checks it, as always, and finds an extra charge that gives him pause: Vacancy of apartment 3A with a sidenote that declares, just ask her to move in already, would you?

A/n: Annd, we're done! I didn't get to do everything I wanted with this (time, my own mental health, et all being contributing factors), but I'm happy enough with it. I hope you guys enjoyed it, until next time x

Also, please note: All explicit/smut content will be posted exclusively on my ao3 account. Kthankx