#which is odd to me because its always been an 'all year round' type thing

[the-unfortunate-ly]

i miss summer

[dearharriet]

About Time | Chapter 2

james potter x reader time travel au | 2.5K words | contents

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04:00 — 4 FEBRUARY

Rounding the corner down the back stairs, James came to the kitchen. It was all a deep, thick violet, blending with the world outside. That was a color that the sun wouldn’t touch for another four hours, if that.

He crept into the room, bare toes on cold terracotta tile, and got the electric kettle going. A tiny red dot rose against the dark expanse of cook-ware as the old thing jumped to life. James leaned back, slumping against the counter and retrieving his phone.

The kitchen gained new illumination as he pried it apart, jostling the center button to wake it. He’d done this song and dance every hour of every day since new years—even the ones he did twice—so it was second nature to press the handful of buttons that led to your contact.

The text exchange stared up at him the same way it always did, and he felt his frustration with himself bubble like the kicking kettle.

1 January

Me 14:14

| hello, this is james! (from new years) :)

Y/N! 15:17

| hi! :)

Me 15:20

| hiya. i was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime? this weekend, maybe?

Y/N! 15:35

| oh, that sounds so lovely, believe me!! but I actually live in london :/ i was only visiting for the holiday.

Of course she lives in London, he thought, she works with Marlene.

James never responded.

The thing about James was, he could go back and retry anything he failed at—which left a lot of room to do just that, and he was accidentally making the most of it.

The other thing about James was, he rarely knew when to quit. A month of no contact couldn’t be good, but a part of him wanted to see if he could make it work the first time. Every retry felt like a crawl through hell, having to do everything all over again, having to remember the way things were—the way things could’ve been forever.

No, he wanted to believe he could make something good without turning back. He’d done alright so far. It was just proving to be very hard because of you.

When the kettle was something around halfway done, James swung the phone closed, plunged back into darkness. He went to the press and took down a big mug with an odd decal over the front of it, and then looked to fish a tea bag out of the next cabinet. His hand felt around blindly, and he stubbornly persisted instead of seeking help from the house lights.

“What the bloody hell is goin’ on in here?”

In quick succession, James swung around and the overhead lights flashed on, and then his head whacked the cabinet door.

“Oh—fuck,” he swore, hand shooting up to cradle the throbbing area. The kettle was nearing the end of its duty, roaring as loud as the blood in James’ ears. Somehow too, the lights carried a sound of their own, one that you’d only ever hear when everything else is blissfully silent.

Something began thumping, and James peeked out of a watery eye to watch a middle aged man hobble over to the fridge. He was wearing a matching pajama set, blue and white striped and too soft looking for his very immediate brashness.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man ignored James’ very feeble inquiry and opened the freezer, coming up with a cold compress. When he turned James’ way, the boy had to school his initial reaction.

Layered over the strange man’s face were deep-cut scars, spider-webbing across his features indiscriminately. His right eye was a shocking blue, and the corresponding eyelid was healed wide open, giving it quite a mad look. James wondered how he slept.

With the same thump thump thump-ing from before, the man approached James, and James looked down to discover a rickety prosthetic leg on one side of his gait. Then, his eyes were back on the scars, his jaw held firmly between thick calloused fingers.

“That’s the last time you’ll ogle at my leg, boy,” the man said firmly, a measured type of coarseness entering his voice. “You’ve seen it now, no need to worry about it any longer. Understand?”

James blinked, still groggy and disoriented, sleep waiting at the edges of his eyes to be wiped away.

“Can I know who you are? Or, why you’re in my house, perhaps?”

A grating laugh escaped the man’s twisted lips, chased by a wide, toothy smile that didn’t match it. Then he forced the compress in his free hand over James’ tender forehead, and a maniacal gleam in his big eye finally caught the light.

“Oh, ow!”

“The name is Moody,” James’ torturer finally revealed, disregarding the pained whines the boy was making. “Alastor Moody. That’s M-O-O—”

“Oh my god, please shut up,” James groaned rudely, feeling a headache come on. Alastor seemed to take kindly by it anyways, or as kindly as he seemed capable of. He snatched one of James’ hands to replace his over the compress and stomped away. James wondered how he’d missed the sound before, when Moody was elsewhere in the house.

Stealing the big mug off the counter and a second one out of the press, Moody set about concocting some tea for the both of them.

“Why are you here,” James pushed again, falling from the wrap-around counter to the butcher’s block island and folding over it.

Moody, pouring a steaming cupful of tea, glanced over his shoulder with a grunt.

“Thought I’m s’posed to shut up,” he replied, a small jest barely recognizable in the grit of it. James almost laughed, thinking it was something one of his friends might say.

“Touché,” he allowed, too tired to justify his earlier words.

Moody slid the piping mug under his nose, holding onto the handle to say, “I’m yer father’s student. Or, I used to be, at least.”

James took the tea gratefully, dropping a big sugar cube into it as his body fell into a tall bar stool. He glanced at the scarred man, who was settling in beside him and sighing at the pressure coming off his legs.

“You’re a businessman?”

The sharp gritty chortle returned, far too loud for the early hour.

“Fuck no, I’m not,” Alastor laughed, “I’m a sad playwrite in London. I took his class on a requirement.”

At that, James perked up.

“In London, really?”

Moody slurped his tea noisily, grunted, and then grabbed two sugars and stirred them into his cup with one meaty finger. After confirming the taste again, he replied, “Yes, really. And don’t believe what those townie twits say about it. London is a miserable barrel of oil I’d like to set on fire.”

James would’ve liked to agree with that, actually, except that he was the victim of a one track mind, and his mind had eyes on you.

Coincidentally, you were in London.

“So why not move away?” James hunkered further over the counter, shrugging in question. “What’s there for you?”

Alastor sighed long-sufferingly, the way someone sighs when they’ve fallen into a pit that they dug.

“A goddamn pipe dream, that’s what.”

“Seems the right place for that,” James said agreeably, pushing up his glasses to appear smarter, somehow.

Moody shifted to look at him.

“What about you, eh?” Alastor sat forward, peering at James oblong with his gaping eye. “I suppose you’ll sit around this cushy place until your old man keels over, won’t ya? Marry some other high-society lass, play out the whole family runaround…maybe pop down to the city for a few years, but not for any big plan, really. Certainly not because you need to.”

He shook his head then, grumbling and taking to his tea. James jutted his head back, slightly affronted, but mostly confused by the jarring flip in Alastor’s mood.

“I’m sure I could, if I had nothing else in mind,” James agreed, his mind focused hard on the one future he was sure of. “Thing is though, I’ve got a pipe dream of my own, sir. A girl I met.”

Exhaling through flared hairy nostrils, Moody glanced at James again, dubious.

“A girl, you say?” James nods. “Yes, well, I suppose that’s what takes all the good ones. Some girl they met once.”

“Thrice,” James corrected. Alastor shuffled his thinning hair about on his head, grunting in question. “I met her three times.”

Moody just tipped back the rest of his tea and wiped the straggling drops from his chin.

Twisting his lips, James persisted.

“This girl y’see, she lives in the city. And I’ve asked to take her out, quite obtusely, without knowing, and now I think I’ll just have to move to her because—”

A big fat hand came down on the counter, rattling James out of his rant.

“Get t’yer point boy.”

Swallowing, James finally asked, “Can I live with you?”

Alastor gave him a long look and then stood, dumping his mug into the big basin by the window. On his slow march out, he turned, casting a sneer over his shoulder that prefaced his following answer.

“Unless that girl is willing to give you a million chances, you’ve already lost her. That’s just the way women are.”

+

04:00 — 17 MARCH

It took four trills for you to realize the song in your dream was a ringtone, and that it was a real pressing matter in the waking world.

One hazy glance at the clock on your night stand told you it was far too early for a phone call, and a quick check on your throat came up dry and unpleasant, not ideal for talking.

You sat up, blinking blearily at the name scrolling across the notification window on your phone, and convinced yourself you were still fast asleep.

‘James :)’ shimmered loud and proud in the pixelated slot of space, perplexing your delirious brain beyond measure. You played with the possibility of going back to sleep, but your curiosity got the better of you.

Opening your phone, you pressed the green answer button and held it to your ear.

“Hello,” you croaked out, more of a question than a greeting.

The other side of the line seemed to lag for a second, like maybe there was no one there, and then James spoke.

“Hel—hi.”

Even though he was only on the phone, hearing his voice made you sit up a little straighter, tamping your bedhead down with a flat palm.

“James?”

He sucked in a breath, and the way it cracked through the line made it sound like a cigarette pull.

“Yeah, um. Yeah. I’m sorry, I really didn’t expect you to answer. You sound so tired, I feel awful.”

“No, don’t be, it’s—” You caught yourself before you could placate him, because no amount of insisting it wasn’t early would change the hands on the clock, “—it’s fine, honestly. My boss is Irish, so I’ve got the day off.”

There was a pause and some shuffling, and then James said, “oh hell, it’s the seventeenth, yeah. I forgot.”

“What?” you exclaimed. “How could you? Everything’s been green for weeks now.”

James laughed, the sound muffled like it was coming from another room.

“I know, I’m sure, I’ve just been too busy to notice. I’m uh, I’m actually moving tomorrow. Or today, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” You bit your lip, smiling a touch and daring to ponder, “Where?”

Another long pause.

“The city,” James replied, and you thought you could hear him smiling, too. “London.”

Picking at your comforter, you felt your lips ebb and flow, uncertain whether to be happy or sad. You really liked James, perhaps even as more than a friend that you’d kissed once on New Years. He was sweet, and attentive, and he seemed to really like you; Texted you right away, unlike most guys you’d been with.

And here he was calling you, striking up a conversation in the early hours of the morning.

“That’s great,” you said, dredging up all of the joy in your chest to saturate your words with. “Where in?”

He seemed hesitant, thinking about it for a second. “Islington, I think? I’ve only ever been up two or three times, so I’m not really sure.”

You nodded, charmed to silence just by the way he spoke, by the number of things you’d rather have asked him—about his life, about that handful of trips to the big city. You were so involved in the thought that you forgot he couldn’t see you.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry, I was nodding.” You laughed a little to lighten the tension. “Um, Islington is great.”

“Really?” James asked. “You’ve been?”

“Well, no.” You laughed some more, and James joined you. “But I live in Shoreditch, actually, so we’ll be really close.”

You hoped that didn’t come off too flirty, and then you hoped that it did, which made you feel terribly guilty. If being on the phone with James was dangerous, you certainly couldn’t be around him in person again.

Eyes closing, you cleared your throat.

“Um, James?”

The boy on the other line hummed in response, and then said, “What?”

“Is there a reason you called?”

It felt rude to ask, but you thought the early hour might cover for you. If you wanted to crawl back under your covers and sleep Saint Patty’s Day away, could he really blame you?

“Oh!” said James, and again your heart thumped hard and cruel in your throat, damming any words inside. “Yes, I’m sorry. I meant to ask you if you were free at all next week? For that coffee I mentioned after New Years.”

Fuzz overtakes the line for the next few seconds as your head falls into your lap. In part, you blame yourself, for being so naive as to think he’d call for anything else. The other part falls on you for different reasons, namely, being on the phone at all with someone you had undeniable feelings for.

For not turning him away in the first place, even though you knew his feelings were just as secure.

“Um,” you started, fighting the frog in your throat, “I’m really sorry James, but I’m actually seeing someone right now. I don’t think…”

You stopped there, because anything that came after would veer immediately into a confession that would hurt you both, and then some.

James was eerily quiet, so much so that you checked your phone to ensure he hadn’t hung up. Then, finally, he breathed out an, “Oh.”

It felt more like a punch to the gut.

For some reason, your face burned with acute embarrassment. Something about admitting to James that you were with someone else felt shameful, like some odd betrayal. Thankfully, he didn’t encourage the feeling.

“Well I hope he’s an alright guy,” James said fairly, and you told him he was. After yet another bout of silence, James just said, “good.”

And then the line clicked.

thank you for reading! xx | masterlist

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[mariacallous]

In recent times, Prince Andrew has been the subject of both a televised comedy musical and a number of formal council petitions from Brits who no longer wish their street to be called Prince Andrew Drive or Prince Andrew Way. Yet, amazingly, the duke somehow still remains the most ridiculous thing about his own life. Barely a week goes by without some wince-inducing story about his comeback plans finding its well-sourced way into the news.

After many years of non-cooperation with any number of attempts to get to the bottom of her allegations against him, Andrew last year finally settled a civil claim with Virginia Giuffre, who was trafficked by the deceased paedophile financier Jeffrey Epstein. The settlement did not include any admission of guilt. Giuffre is now reported to be writing a book about her experiences with Epstein and beyond, and though her settlement with the duke would prevent her speaking out in detail about Prince Andrew, multiple articles suggest he is ready to launch a lawsuit should she mention him. “Andrew and his lawyers are ready to go on the attack,” a “source familiar with the case” told the Mail at the weekend. “Then her claims will be put under scrutiny for the first time in a court of law.” Finally! I don’t know about you but I always pay a reported £12m to settle a case out of court, when all I really want is for its claims to be heard in a court.

Then, last week, allies of the duke let it be known that “details are about to be made public which will change people’s perceptions of him”. Intriguing. Are those details … could they possibly be … a photograph subsequently published on the front page of the Daily Telegraph last Saturday? Unclear. But oh dear me, where to start on this picture, released by Ian Maxwell, the brother of Epstein’s convicted accomplice, Ghislaine?

You will almost certainly have seen this truly cursed image by now. If you somehow swerved it, however, the details are as follows. Two (mercifully clothed) adults are sitting in the bath of Ghislaine’s former Belgravia mews house, which you will recall is where Giuffre alleges she was first coerced into sexual activity with Prince Andrew. Around the faces of the two people in the photo – and I can barely believe I’m typing this, but here we are – there are elasticated laminated A4 sheets of paper, worn as masks. Think of it as Eyes Wide Shit. One mask bears the face of 17-year-old Virginia Giuffre, from the notorious original photo of her with the duke’s hand round her waist, taken in the house in question on the night in question. Odd choice – but not the oddest, let’s face it. The other figure is wearing a contemporary photo of Prince Andrew, 62, which only serves to emphasise the bizarre grossness of what the reader is being asked to behold and consider. Unbelievably, actual lawyers had something to do with this nutso line of defence, which the Telegraph chose to headline: “The photo that ‘clears Duke’ over bath sex”.

We might begin by querying whether “bath sex” is really the correct term for alleged rape of a trafficked teenager. But wait, because there’s more. The image is accompanied by quotes from Ian. I always feel I missed the point in time that the utterances of Ian Maxwell began being treated with something other than quizzical contempt. When precisely did this switcheroo happen? Anyway, here is Maxwell on the photo, which he seems to have personally staged. “I am releasing my photographs now because the truth needs to come out,” explains Ian, apparently dialling in from the Arkham Asylum of British public life. “They show conclusively that the bath is too small for any kind of sex frolicking.” Two points. One: they don’t show anything of the sort. And two: What? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!

“The family have even supplied the bath’s dimensions,” gibbers the Telegraph, “revealing that the base of the bathtub measures 1,359mm by 380mm.” I’m not sure any newspaper in the land can credibly take the high ground on the lunacies of other publications. There but for the grace, and all of that. But I don’t imagine I was the only reader who saw this picture online and had to go to the source to check whether that really and truly was the actual front page. Yet it honestly was. Less of a marmalade-dropper, more of a stomach-vacater.

If that photo wasn’t the gamechanging gambit at which Andrew’s allies were hinting, perhaps it was last week’s interview with Ghislaine herself. In this, Maxwell clutched one of the visiting-room telephones at the Florida prison in which she is currently serving a 20-year-sentence for her crimes, and explained through the glass that the original photo of the duke with his arm round Giuffre (in which she herself is pictured smirking stage left) was a fake. If that was the de-smoked gun, then unfortunately all it took was for the news photographer who had originally snapped the image from a hard copy Giuffre handed him to produce his image of the back of that photo. This displays the standard developers’ date stamp. It turns out to have been an ordinary printed snap, processed at a one-hour lab at Walgreens on 13 March 2001, three days after the date on which Giuffre alleged she was first forced into sexual activity with Andrew. The news photographer had gone back through his archives after being incensed by Ghislaine’s interview last week. As he put it: “I thought, ‘here we go again’.”

And here we do seem to keep going again. Quite how long the duke will fail to realise his comeback is doomed is not clear. News that he would no longer have offices at Buckingham Palace, which is undergoing a £369m refurbishment, was tempered by hints that he would still probably be granted rooms at nearby St James’s Palace. But for what, given he appears to have nothing to do other than mount a wildly ill-advised rearguard action against deeply unsavoury claims he decided to settle?

Andrew no longer enjoys the range of confected positions that enabled him to be helicoptered between the world’s finest golf courses. Does one really need a suite of damask-walled and lavishly gilded rooms with liveried attendees for his current activities? I can’t help feeling a lock-up with a single swinging lightbulb somewhere off the M25 might be more appropriate in the circumstances. That is the only staged photo any of us wishes to see. Failing that, a silent retirement for this lifelong self-saboteur would be in all interests, including his own.

[zinampanfebie]

Life of a Paulinian Student ⚜️🔰

It’s more fun in St. Paul University Philippines

I've been Studying at St. Paul University Philippines for the past four and a half years. I can say that, despite its ups and downs, SPUP is actually more enjoyable. 

Back when i was senior high school, I never Thought that I would be able to enter such a beautiful school .I've heard it's quite difficult, but thank God, I was able to study here despite that. I have done a lot of fun activities, made a lot of friends, and have built a lot of wonderful memories throughout my time studying here. As a new Paulinian, I recall that on my first day here, I almost got lost due to the wide and lot of rooms in our building. Now that I think back on it, I just giggle in self-satisfaction. It took me a while to adjust to the milieu of the school, but I eventually succeeded. There, I made new acquaintances and classmates, the majority of them are cool, intelligent, and wealthy.

And becoming a Paulinian is both a responsibility and an opportunity to seize and cherish. Every Paulinian therefore looks for different and efficient strategies to be successful. Students must balance their school and personal lives in order to manage conflict because they play many different roles in college life, many of which are at odds with one another. Students' lives could change if they are determined. We must first practice self-discipline if we want to become determined students. Then, we should decide on a goal to work toward, and every action we take should be directed toward achieving that goal. Instead of focusing on what I thought I was lacking, I learned to find meaning in all of my failures. With the help of this realization, I came to the conclusion that I needed to let go of the things I couldn't change and to take pride in the fact that I always tried my hardest. Because of this perspective, I was able to identify my strengths and concentrate my efforts on honing my academic abilities. 

Everything that mattered to me allowed me to find meaning. Along with finding inner peace and love, I've made friends for life and experienced some truly unforgettable moments. The highs and lows in my life—the failures and successes that shaped who I am—are the things for which I am grateful.

Studying Psychology has given me more aware of myself. And I firmly believe that knowledge is power in any endeavor. You'll be able to learn useful information that is also practical! In the hands of psychologists is the future. You'll be able to empathize with people as a psychology student, see things from their perspective, and perhaps even influence them to live happier lives. You will personally know how to maximize learning, have a well-rounded life, and have a better social life. I'm sure to go through a lot of changes and challenges in college that will push me to the edge of my abilities. I'm terrified, but I'm also undeniably eager to move forward and find my true calling. As I type this, I hope to make the most of the years I have ahead of me and anticipate a time when I will be genuinely happy and content with what I've accomplished.

[rose---child]

talking about chicken sandwiches for too long

as someone whose always been more of a fan of chicken sandwiches over hamburgers, its so odd how the chicken sandwich is now a popular item.

Also how did capitalism make chicken sandwiches suck.

so apparently  this all started in 2019 when popeyes introduced a new chicken sandwich, which then became so popular that people were turned away since they ran out.

Then there was a “chicken sandwich wars” which like before today I assumed all the places were going more to a chick-fa-la style sandwich but it doesn't seem that,that was the start of a change in sandwich types.

Now I'm meaning fried chicken specifically but it seems like just recently popeyes has made a grilled chicken sandwich as well called “blackened chicken sandwich” Which with falling chicken prices this might lead to the start of another round of this dumb competition nonsense.

Looking at the wikipedia page for this topic “ By January 2021, more than 20 American fast food brands had introduced chicken sandwiches.[2] In addition to Popeyes and Chick-fil-A, they included: Golden Chick, KFC, Fatburger, Church's Chicken, Wendy's, BurgerFi, Zaxby's, Fuku, Jack in the Box, Sonic, Carl's Jr., Shake Shack, Boston Market, McDonald's, Pollo Campero, Taco Bell (which introduced its Chicken Sandwich Taco), Bojangles, Panera Bread, Burger King, and Panda Express (which introduced its Orange Chicken Sandwich).“

Which is odd since these articles act like many of these restaurants just didnt have a chicken sandwich,when that was not the case. Wendys and Mcdonalds are two places with examples of Chicken sandwiches that personally ive been eating for years, heck it seemed like the idea of a spicy and non spicy chicken sandwich on a menu was stolen from wendys by chick-fa-la but honestly thats more because im biased. Mcdonalds has now 2 chicken sandwiches, the mchicken, and one thats just a slightly better chick-fa-la sandwich but chick’s sandwiches and fries are awful. 

Anyways, why are these places trying to be like popeyes? See the fast food chicken landscape has always been interesting to me. See how I see it is that chicken can have alot of variety. For an example, popeyes represents Cajun Louisiana style chicken, then kfc represents Kentucky style chicken. Like i work at a wing style restaurant and we have different sauces. We have a chicken sandwich which is a chicken breast tossed in your choice of sauce on a brioche bun, then personally i add mayo on it. The sandwich is big, saucey, isant bare bones and i feel like is worth it. But the thing is, in these fast food places, they seem to just be copying chicken, pickle and mayo, and thats it. Like I havent had the popeyes sandwich but from the looks of it, it seems to work for that sandwich, the chicken has a crisper breading so it holds in the moisture, there is the spicy mayo to give it some funk, and 3 thick cut pickle slices.

My problem is that the landscape used to be varied, if i want crispy, I goto wendys, usually a spicy chicken sandwich, if i want a little something and some mayo and lettuce then the classic mchicken it is, if i feel homophobic and want a sweeter breading that is good but will probably fall off since the little bags they come it make all the steam just make the sandwich all soggy, then chick-fa-la it is.

well atleast there is still ones who put things on the sandwich

[ragingbookdragon]

All I Wanna Be Is Somebody To You

A Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: None

Author's Note: For the one anon who wanted a nervous reader! I hope I did this justice for you, darling! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She didn’t hate talking. Not really. But the idea of holding conversations with people she didn’t know sent her heart fluttering and her throat tightening until it was impossible to breathe. More often than not, she found herself apologizing a lot for the stuttering or the repeating of things she said. Most people gave her odd looks, told her to stop apologizing so much (like that ever helped anyone), or laughed and told her she was cute—which was nice until she realized they meant in a childish sort of way rather than an endearing one.

But it wasn’t always like that. According to her parents, there’d been a time when she couldn’t stop talking. Always had something to say and had somebody to tell. Something changed during her years, she knew when, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself or her family when they asked what happened to their outgoing and talkative daughter. Too many times she’d heard, “You know no one cares about X, right?” or “Oh my God, will you shut up?” and every time she heard it from a friend it dug into her a little deeper, made her shut her mouth tighter, and tore her heart much harsher.

And because she chose to be the silent type instead of the outgoing one, people assumed her arrogant and cold, distant and rude, and she found herself spending most of middle school and high school by herself. She was glad when graduation came, and while she’d dreaded giving her valedictorian speech, she did manage to get through it without too much trouble. It did feel like her one triumph against everyone who ignored her throughout school.

College freed her. Allowed her to make a flexible schedule, take smaller classes, and be solitary when she wanted. She’d refused a dorm room on the campus, living only fifteen minutes from Gotham University, instead choosing to commute daily and she liked it a lot more than having roommates in a four-bedroom apartment on the school grounds.

When she wasn’t in class, she stayed home a lot. It came with being a homebody, but when she did go out into the great big city, she liked to shop. Little antique shops or bookstores. She went to bookstores more than she did school. There was something so wonderful about finding a book in the shop and sitting down at a café and reading quietly. Which is how she met him, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he wanted anything to do with her. She was quiet and shy, and he was open and flirty. They obviously didn’t match in any way, shape, or form. At least, that’s what she thought.

***

She drew her gaze along the wall of books before her, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she searched for the novel. It’d been a long time since she’d read The Count of Monte Cristo, a copy of her father’s that he’d had when she was just a child. Something had reminded her of it the other day and all she could think about was getting her own so she could annotate in the margins.

As she came across it, she started reaching when someone got to it first, one finger pulling it out by its spine before taking it into their hand. She visibly deflated with a soft sigh as it was the last copy and hung her head in defeat.

“I’m sorry, were you wanting this too?” Her head cocked up and she gazed at the young man before her. He smiled and she felt like she’d been shot in the chest at how dazzling it was. “Here, you can have it.”

Swallowing thickly, she shook her head, “You got it first.” Nodding, she added, “It’s yours.”

He cocked a brow at that. “Well, from the devastated look on your face, doll, you want it to be yours.”

Her cheeks warmed at that, and she felt nervous where she stood, resisting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. “N-no it’s okay.” She said. “You take it.”

“Oh no you don’t. That’s not how this works.” He chuckled and took her hands, pressing the book into them, then he winked at her. “The doll deserves to have her book.”

If there had ever been a time in which she wanted to explode from embarrassment, it was then, and before she knew it, she shoved the book back into his arms and so hard that it must’ve knocked the wind out of him because he gasped. She spun around and took off down the aisle and out the front doors as fast as she could, wanting nothing more than to disappear in the crowded streets. That or sink into the ground. Maybe next week she’d come back and get the book. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be there again.

***

Then again, her hopes were always wrong, and she picked up the copy of The Divine Comedy, flipping it open to read the first page.

“I see you’re a fan of the classics, aren’t you, doll?”

She snapped the book shut when she heard his voice and looked over at him. Something inside annoyed her at the cocky smirk he wore, much more was the arm he had resting on the top of the bookshelf as he gazed at her.

“You know, you left a nice bruise on me the other week.” He quipped, shifting his weight to cross his ankles. “You’re pretty strong.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, turning to look back at the book. “Sorry I hit you…it was an accident.”

“Well, I can accept your apology if you tell me your name.”

“Why?” she questioned quietly, wiggling her toes.

“Because I wanna put a name to such a cute face. Why else?” he flirted, and she scowled at the book cover. “Oh, that’s an even more adorable face.”

“Quit doing that!” she hissed. “It’s not funny!”

He chuckled. “Oh contraire, it’s actually hilarious.” He took a step towards her. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

Her eyes darted to the outstretched hand, and she stared at it for a split second before softly shaking it. “(Y/N).” she murmured.

Before she could pull her hand back, he raised it and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Enchanté ma chérie,” he professed, breath hot against her skin and just like before, she was so absolutely flustered she was yanking her hand back and poor Jason’s grip slipped, and he whacked himself in the face with his own hand.

“Nice to meet you!” (Y/N) yelped and scurried off down the aisle and to the register where she purchased her book in record time. Third time was the charm and she prayed that he wouldn’t be there again.

***

And whoever lived upstairs must’ve really had it out for her because she flipped the page in her One Thousand and One Arabian Nights and heard an exaggerated cough. Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw Jason standing there with a grin on his face. “Hello (Y/N),” he purred, and she immediately felt her cheeks become hot.

“Hi Jason,” she muttered, gazing at her book, listening to the chair screech as he sat down across from her.

“How are you doing today?” he asked, setting down his own copy of Arabian Nights.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, finding it harder to focus on the book over the smell of his woody and oriental cologne. She thought she smelled a twinge of tobacco with it. “I’m fine.” Her eyes found his teal ones for a moment. “And you?”

He smiled, making her heart pick up a beat. “Doing pretty good.” He winked. “I got to see you again. Though I’m hoping I don’t get hit again. Either by a book or my own fist.”

“Sorry…” she cringed, sinking down in her seat. “That was an accident.”

Jason shrugged and propped his elbows on the table, placing his chin on his fingers. “Don’t worry about it. Say, do you like coffee?”

“I do,” she murmured.

“Great, want anything from the café?” he asked, nodding at the board and she looked over at it.

“I guess I could order a latte,” she replied more to herself than him, starting to pull her wallet out.

“Nah, I got it.” Jason said, standing from his seat.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said I got it.” He quipped and she jumped from her seat to stop him, but caught the leg of her chair, and she flailed, stumbling right into Jason. They went tumbling to the floor and she landed atop him. For a minute they were both stunned silent as the people in the store looked at them and he smirked at her. “Well, this saves me the trouble of asking you out to dinner.” He winked again. “Should’ve told me you had a bold streak, doll.”

She immediately scrambled up, placing one of her hands on his chest to shove off him when her leg slipped, and her knee went into his groin. He groaned and rolled over, holding his crotch and (Y/N) was so mortified all she could do was apologize profusely and at one point she was sure she was mixing up her words, but it didn’t matter. Grabbing her things, she started running off a third time.

Though she’d made it ten feet out of the door and down the street before someone grabbed her round the waist and hauled her to a stop. “Oh no! We’re not doing this pattern again! I am not getting hit a fourth time!”

(Y/N) spun in his arm and gaped at him. “I’m sorry!”

Jason sighed heavily and lowered his head. “Holy crap, I’ve never had such a hard time getting a girl to go out with me.”

“You wanna go out with me?” She pointed to herself despite her flustered state. “W-with me?” she gave him a dubious look. “Really? M-me?”

“Well, if you wanna hit me a fourth time to be sure, go ahead, but yeah,” he retorted then heaved another sigh. “Jeez, talk about getting hit on.”

(Y/N) spluttered at that. “I did not hit on you!”

“Right, you just hit me instead.”

“It was an accident! And I said I was sorry!”

Jason grinned at her and arm away. “Well, I’ll accept your sorry’s if you go on a date with me.”

She blinked at him. “A date? When?”

“Tonight.” He said. “There’s a bookstore down in the town square for insomniacs. Open until seven A.M. and serves a mean cup of hot cocoa.” Jason smiled and took her hand. “So? How ‘bout it, doll? Wanna go out with me tonight?”

All she could do was simply stare at this gorgeous man that obviously had a thing for her for some god forsaken reason. “Why?” she asked blankly, and he seemed to falter at that.

“Why what?” he repeated, confusion etching across his face.

“Why do you wanna go out with me?” (Y/N) gestured to herself. “I’m weird.”

“So am I.” he agreed.

“I stutter a lot.”

“So does my brother.”

“I don’t talk a lot. I don’t like talking a lot. People get mad at me when I talk a lot and I prefer to listen and you’re not going to like going out with me because I’m going to be super quiet because I get flustered easily and I—”

Jason put his hand over her mouth and stared at her. “Do you ever take a breath?” she nodded silently, and he sighed. “Look, (Y/N), it’s only taken getting shoved in the stomach with a book, getting punched with my own hand, and getting nut-shot to understand that you’re not exactly comfortable with the public.”

He removed his hand. “That’s why I invited you to the bookstore. Because even in the few weeks we’ve known each other, I know you like quiet places. But if you don’t feel comfortable going with me right now, that’s okay. We can take it slow.” Jason smiled at her. “Doll, all I wanna be is somebody to you.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and looked at her feet, whispering, “I…don’t wanna go out right now…but I’d like to give you my number…if you’re okay with that?” she shrugged. “We can text.” Feeling hopeful she reached out and placed her hang on his arm. “And get to know each other better? Maybe tell each other our favorite books? That’s…the best way in my opinion.”

His face lit up and he murmured, “I’d love that.” He pulled out his phone, tapping at it before he handed it over to her. “Here you go.”

She took it and looked at the contact name he’d already put in. My Flustered Doll. She glared at him. “You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you, Jason? You’re not. At all.”

He smirked. “Oh, is that so?” She nodded and he quipped, “We’ll just see about that then.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and typed in her number, handing him back his phone. “There you go.” He glanced at it, seemingly satisfied before he locked it and put it back in his pocket, then they met each other’s gazes and she awkwardly pointed over her shoulder. “I’m going home now.”

Jason caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “See you later, doll. Stay cute.”

She was hurrying off again, his laughter in her ears, unaware that their exchanging of numbers was going to evolve into so much more in the coming months.

***

“—And I’m pretty sure I can never show my face again at school, Jay. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

He hummed, fingers gently dipping into her spine. “Well, this is coming from the girl that nut-shotted be in the middle of a busy bookstore.”

“Why would you remind me about that?” (Y/N) scowled. “It was an accident.”

“And yet it can’t be more mortifying than telling a guy to shove his head up his ass.” He retorted, eyes still closed as they basked in the sunlight streaming through the window. “This is at least a five on the ten scale.”

“More like a hundred.” She muttered, tucking her head under his chin. “I can’t believe I said that to him. Oh, I was just so—just so mad at what he said about my poem! He was just being mean!” (Y/N) gripped his sweatshirt. “You understand right?”

Jason nodded, his other hand resting at her hip. “Mhm.”

“You don’t think I’m overreacting, do you?” she frowned. “Everyone else thinks I am.”

“Telling someone that their poetry isn’t good because it isn’t iambic pentameter isn’t following constructive criticism, doll. It’s called being a douche.” She giggled and he bent his neck, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Call me next time Lord Douche-Canoe starts on your poetry again and I’ll school him on face-time.”

(Y/N) giggled again and rolled over, pressing them chest to chest and she grinned when he whined at her moving. “Thank you, Jason.”

He smiled at her. “I only take my thanks in kisses. Sorry, doll.”

Rolling her eyes, she bent down and pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she murmured against him, and he hummed, hands grasping her hips.

“I love you more.”

“Nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” he scoffed, pulling back to look at her. “I am willingly in a relationship with the girl who nut-shot me in—MMHPF!”

(Y/N) shoved a pillow into his face, face hot as she shouted, “Stop bringing that up! It was an accident!” All she got in return was his laughter.

[bibliocratic]

muddle along or: the Pokemon / TMA crossover I’ve been promising @speakerunfolding for AGES jonmartin early S4

Jon considers the knapsack left for him.

Exhaustion is already feasting on any clarity he might have obtained in the near quiet. His body stiff, unused to the casual labour of his bones. The storage room, its shelves overburdened, the air vents popping like cracked knuckles, has gained nothing in his absence except a resurgence of dust and, in a dismal corner, a pile of boxes and a suitcase. A pathetic truncated shrine to his thirty odd years of living.

They moved his possessions here, when his rent went unpaid, when his water bills and council tax and internet payment reminders piled up like demanding snowdrift on his mucky welcome mat. Mutely, he glances over the hastily sellotaped boxes that now form his packaged-up life with all the distance that six months of bad dreams have afforded him.

He wonders who packed up his kitchenware, despairing at the mismatched cutlery harvested from student halls and charity-shop finds; clucked their teeth at the bread freckling mouldy in the barren landscape of his fridge; folded his clothes neatly into the suitcase he always kept stuffed under his unmade bed, even pairing up his socks; who took the books off his shelves in the belief he might thumb through them again one day.

He wonders if it was Martin.

Basira gave him the knapsack some hours ago. When he’d found some semblance of normalcy in the dull weight of a sandwich coating his stomach, dressed in clothes that now hang like rags off a coat hanger, sat at the table in the otherwise empty staff room with the heat of a cup of tea cactus-prickling his palms.

“He asked if you’d look after them,” she’d said. The strap of the bag held securely in the jaw of her Absol. “While he’s – well, you know…” She waves an exasperated done-with-it hand that manages to express a multitude of emotions that refract and merge like the morphing shades of a bruise. “Doing whatever the hell it is he’s doing. Or he thinks he’s doing.”

Jon wishes he knew.

He sits cross-legged in front of the storage room door, a sharp-boned barricade, thrumming like a struck tuning fork with the thought that even here, he will not be safe.

Gardevoir is a heavy weight against his shoulder. She’s quieter than he remembers, solemn and sombre in her new form. She used to demand being lifted up when she was Ralts, her flat red horns digging into his chest and leaving impressions, scrabbling down to shelter half-behind his legs when strangers approached. He left for the Unknowing and she’d been Kirlia, her face set and her cries insistent and infuriated, trying to push her Pokeball into his hand to make him bring her with them. Tim hadn’t asked where she was, when they all piled into the rental car, Houndoom taking up one of the seats in the back but snarling when Basira suggested putting her in her ball.

Jon doesn’t know when she evolved. It pains him, a dull-knife strike of thought, another wave against his tide-bashed flood barriers, to have slept through such a moment in her life when every other milestone they shared together.

“Now is a good a time as any, I suppose?” he asks her. His voice traces above a whisper. His Abra has calmed now, drained down from a difficult and teary reunion, and is now breathing deep and slow, curled into the port of his crossed legs. His three-fingered hands are still clenching the fabric of Jon’s shirt.

Gardevoir nods. Then gives him a nudge and a look when it seems as though he’s stalling, when he must be bleeding out apprehension like watercolours seeping through paper.

“Can’t get anything past you now, huh,” he says. She smiles, fond and he manages a short smile back, and it is almost, almost like it was before.

The bag is old, its original function probably for a laptop of some kind. The plasticky outer skin of it has rubbed away, flaking to mesh at the edges, the piping worn down to wires. Jon folds back the front of the bag, and inside there are four Pokeballs, the basic and cheapest red-and-white models. Jon had worked a thankless summer job at a beach-side amusement arcade to save up the money to get Ralts a customised ball, and had done similar when Abra came along a few years later.

To the side of the Pokeballs, ziplocked and labelled, there is a small forest of freezer bags bulging with berries and treats and care equipment. In a plastic pocket, there are precisely written instructions pertaining to each Pokemon and their requirements, and Jon’s throat tightens unexpectedly to see Martin’s looping joined-up handwriting, to see words that seem penned by someone who doesn’t expect to be coming back.

Gardevoir makes a low noise next to him. Her arm alighting on his, a solid weight, grounding. Jon clears his throat and takes out the Pokeball nearest the top, pushing the button on the front so the size balloons to fill his palm.

Most people have one Pokemon, maybe two, unless they’re involved in competitive breeding and training. When Abra came along, he remembers his gran remarking on the upkeep, how it would be his responsibility to feed and care for and train them, and it hadn’t been the cheapest venture but Jon had born the expense gladly.  It doesn’t surprise him that Martin has amassed so many in comparison to the norm.

At lunch one day years ago, the weather nipping frost-touched, they’d sat outside a cramped cafe because there’d been no seats indoors, and Martin had confessed that he was always taking them in. Thinking back, Jon knows that Martin was attempting to keep the conversation buoyant, coaxing him away from deeper, darker waters. Jon remembers being irritated, sore-eyed with sleeplessness, his spine strung with paranoia.

“My lost causes, Mum called them,” Martin had said, and his voice had tried for a levity that landed without cushioning. He’d torn off a bit from the end of his panini to feed a hopeful-looking Pidove pecking expectantly around their feet. The cause of the conversational turn, Martin’s newest acquisition, had sat grumpily mewling on the other man’s knee, wriggling and sniping as he tried to feed them some medication he’d got from the vet. Despite himself, Jon had been distracted from miring thoughts of Gertrude by watching Martin’s charade unfold, the man making a show of giving up with a theatrical sigh to scratch the Nidoran behind the ears in a show of defeat, being careful of their spikes. The Nidoran had headbutted his hand whenever his motions slowed to stopping, and Martin had used the distraction to fold a chorizo slice he’d pulled from his panini around the pill, which the Nidoran had happily snaffled from his fingers, gulping it down before returning to demand affection.

“They’ll be all healed up within the week,” Martin had continued, plastering over the continued lull with his chattering. “I’ve taken in a few Nidorans before, they tend to be pretty hardy.” He had scratched under the Nidoran’s chin as his words ebbed with the nudging of an undemanding tide.

Jon had picked at his sandwich as Martin had fold him about hiding Pidgeys and Swablus in an old shoebox under his bed, lined with the nesting material of some of his t-shirts donated to the cause. A chipped-edge bowl borrowed from the kitchen brimming with water and his own early team of Pokemon keeping them company while their wings healed in their splints before they were strong enough to leave again.

These four Pokeballs in the knapsack aren’t just random strays. They’re Martin’s Pokemon. The ones that never left him, the ones that he’s raised and doted upon and taken worriedly to the Pokecentre over every cough and sniffle and fever.

And for the meantime, they’re Jon’s.

Jon presses the release button on the first ball.

There is a chittering surprised coo as an Oddish materialises in a buzz of light and reforming matter.  They reform to stand a little higher than Jon’s ankle, only to fold their leaves half over their eyes at the unkindness of the halogen strip light. They totter when they take a step, tumbling to sitting with an affronted noise before, with a determined heft, they rock themselves up to standing again. Jon’s seen Martin’s Oddish before, approaching every walk around the assistant’s office space like a tightrope. Tim had bought them a little plant pot as a novelty Christmas gift once, and they’d unironically loved it, hopping into it cosily and getting specks of soil all over Martin’s desk.

Their leaves are poked through with ragged little holes, like they’ve been nibbled away, the green tinged in places to a sickly yellow. In the bag there is a vial of luminous blue medicine, complete with dropper and application instructions. It’s a stress thing, he dimly remembers Martin had once explained to him. It’s like an eczema, of a sort, that afflicts Grass-types, but it affects Oddish’s balance when it flares up.

The Oddish looks at Jon. They don’t have a neck as such, so they lean their whole bulb-like body backwards on their stumpy legs to study Gardevoir, who gives a reassuring blink. They glance around the storage room and its uninspired treasures of boxes and the unpromisingly weak-seeming metal frame of the cot, with a fretful shake of their leaves. They’re expecting to see someone else.

“Hello,” Jon says. He clears his throat, attempting to present a friendly face, to avoid the grimace he senses forming at his discomfort, his presentation to a critical audience that is already finding him wanting. “I’m… well, I’m Jon. You’ve probably seen me before, I’m um… I’m a f-friend of Martin’s. He’s, well, he’s not here at the moment. But he asked me to look after you. While he’s – he’s away.”

Oddish blinks their beady round red eyes. Their leaves wave uncertainly with the lazy swish of palm fronds. They coo again, a longer sound, plaintive and stretched out in melancholy. They take the opportunity to look around again, a full-body swivel that has them unbalanced, but Gardevoir leans down with a careful hand to steady them upright.

Jon watches them amble off to study their surroundings. Every so often crying out in a searching noise. Gardevoir keeps an eye on them as they rootle around in one of the boxes they can reach.

The next few releases are equally unsuccessful. Skitty reforms only to barrel under the cot as a pink-and-white blur, slinking further back with his tail swishing furiously whenever Jon addresses him. One undamaged ear twitches anxiously. The next Pokemon fails to materialise at all, refusing to leave their ball.

This was a mistake. Martin should have known better, known him enough to see that he would be no good at this, his skills in offering comfort atrophied. He can barely take care of himself, these days. Never mind additional charges who are scared, who need reassurance that is rendered rusty in his throat.

He reaches out to cradle the last ball in his cupped palms. He knows who is inside. The youngest of Martin’s acquisitions, and as far as Jon was aware, full-on adverse to getting inside a Pokeball. Their favoured mode of travel was Martin, using him as a climbing frame while he attempted to work, kicking their little feet against his forehead, clinging giggly to his mop of hair to get a better view, squealing shrill and disruptive and delighted when Martin would playfully shake his head to rock them. He thinks with the uncertainty that memory offers him, that Sasha had loved them, lifted them and pretending to throw them while they chattered and babbled, snuck them berries when Martin wasn’t looking. Jon has paid ear to more than one lecture from Martin on nutrition and proper feeding times and sugar levels. They might have played with Sasha’s own Pokemon, like they had tottered after Houndour’s short and wagging tail when she was out of her ball, like they had ran after Skitty to join in games, but that memory has been scratched from recollection like initials scored out of tree bark.

They were by nature vocal, rambunctious, unthinking and unheedful of danger, a child really, and Martin had been forever apologising when Jon would find them where they weren’t meant to be, carrying them back cautiously and carefully to Martin’s fretful hands. He thinks Martin had thought that they had irritated him. It hadn’t been that. They had been so small, smaller than they should have been for their species, the runt of some litter abandoned or lost by their parent or cracked and emerging blinking from their egg over-early. They had been so curious, and the world of the archives had grown increasingly unsafe around them. Jon had worried, in his own poorly expressed way.

He presses the button, and aims at the ground. Martin’s Togepi manifests in a fizz of red light and sound crackling like champagne.

They turn around with a confused noise.

Jon gets the chance to voice an awkward, low-pitched ‘hello’ before they take one look at him and their face clenches upset, breath starting to bubble with sobs.

“Oh, oh, nonono, hey,” Jon says, scooping them up into his hands. Abra is dislodged, wakes up startled and teleports a few feet away with a ‘pop’ of displaced air. “It’s… nonono, shush, it’s alright.”

Big messy tears fall out of screwed up eyes. Hitching sobs lengthen into wails. Jon looks frantically at Gardevoir as he rocks and shushes the bawling Pokemon against his chest in a way Martin was so much better at.

Martin would know what to do, what to say. How all this could work out for the best. But Martin isn’t here.

Jon’s own eyes dampen.

“Shshshsh,” he croaks thickly. “It’s – it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the worst of the tears. He strokes the top of Togepi’s head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Jon repeats.

Many hours later, Jon wakes up, cotton-mouthed and his back vengeful for the position he’s slept in. His legs, still crossed, have degraded to numbness that he’ll pay for as soon as he wants to stand. In his lap, he sees the matryoshka doll set up that’s occurred, Togepi exhaling with little whistling breaths into Abra’s chest, Abra’s face planted against Jon’s shirt. Skitty has emerged from his defensive fort under the cot to coil into a ball of heat, curled up in the crook of Abra’s overhanging tail. Gardevoir is half-awake in that dozing but alert way she has, and she must have turned off the light in the room because it’s dark except for the emergency glow from the fire-exit sign that casts the walls and floor in an unsettling green. Jon sees the husk of an opened Pokeball, the shadow of something small and yellow crouched on Gardevoir’s shoulder, and something inside him eases, just a little bit.

Oddish is looking up at him from the floor. Jon moves the only hand he has that’s not squashed under Abra, and when he sets it down they alight with an unsteady gait and he transfers them to the higher terrain of his knee. He rubs a careful finger along their leaves until they sit, their head nodding as they struggle to stave off sleep, although they still glance around with uncertain eyes.

The room has dropped colder. Oddish shivers along with Jon.

“I know,” Jon says. “I miss him too.”

[toxicjayhoe]

We don’t have to dance

Explicit

Shinso / Reader(OC)

M / F

Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

I mean there's some plot in my head but y'all don't get to see that haha

Cunnilingus

Blow Jobs

Hitoshi is a good boy

he asks for consent

Brainwashing

Oral Sex

Vaginal Sex

Unprotected Sex

Aged-Up Character(s) obviously

Light Dom/sub

Choking

Ahegao

Smut

He glanced across the overcrowded room, observing acquaintances and strangers as they socialized and sipped their drinks, swaying to the beat of the music. The open space of the hero office had been rearranged as to accommodate as many individuals as possible for this year’s Christmas celebration.

Shinso had never really been the type who partied, but he thought it was important to attend, if only for appearances sake. As a new Pro-hero, he believed it was a necessity to demonstrate he was a team player.

He took a mouthful of his cider, feeling it burn down his throat as he swallowed the effervescent drink. He never really drank either, but he enjoyed a nice glass every once in a while.

The couch he rested on was quite comfortable, he thought to himself as he settled back into it. He was more than content in just sitting here all evening until he believed it was acceptable to leave. He wasn’t interested in idle conversation about the weather or whatever these people were gossiping about to one another.

However, the universe had other plans for him it seemed, as Denki quickly approached him, shots in hand.

“Hey bestie, down this and let’s go get some ladies.” The blond handed the liquor towards him, urging him to take it, waggling his eyebrows and winking.

Shinso sighed, ignoring the offending alcohol currently being offered to him. “What ladies, Denki? We are at the bottom of the food chain here.”

“My dude, it’s a Christmas office party. Have you never seen a movie in your life? Things always get spicy at Christmas office parties.” He cackled, downing one of the shots and throwing the empty cup behind him. He pulled another from behind his back.

The purple haired man made a face, before chuckling quietly. “Where did that one come from?!”

Denki shrugged, shoving the two shots into Shinso’s hands. He rolled his purple eyes, giving in to maybe the only true friend he had.

He brought them to his lips, one after the other, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and placing the empty receptacles on the table by him. Of course Denki had chosen peppermint schnapps.

“I’m only going to be your wingman, and only because you could really use the support.” He said with a bored tone to his voice as he pushed himself up from the sofa. Denki whooped enthusiastically, rushing off to where Shinso could only assume the ladies were.

He unhurriedly trailed after him, making his way between the gatherings of individuals, being vigilant as to not come into contact with anyone as he passed them. He wasn’t fond of strangers to start, much less being touched by them in any way.

He was terrific at communicating when he was obligated to, which was merely when he was required to use his Quirk. He still had issues with it and, even now, citizens still told him it was better suited for a villain, but he’d come to terms with not being able to please everyone. As long as he did a respectable job as a pro-hero and protecting the populace, then he would be happy.

Once he finally made it beyond the crowd and to where Denki had run off to, said man was being rejected by yet another woman.

Jaw clenched as not to show any suggestion of a smirk, he clapped the blond on the back in sympathy.

“You’re aiming way too high, Denki. And you try too hard.” He said simply, unsure if it was the right thing to say or not. Nonetheless, the shorter man smiled up at him, seemingly undeterred by yet another loss.

“Let’s go play foosball!” Denki hollered, forcing him in the direction of the tabletop game, stealing two additional beverages as a waiter walked by them.

They played a few rounds, one versus the other. Shinso loathed to admit it, but he had struggled to keep up with the innate talent Denki appeared to have at the game.

Just as he began to genuinely start enjoying his night, Denki sprinted off, declaring he needed to piss. Shinso took the moment alone to survey his surroundings once more, taking in the sight of people’s inhibitions all but forgotten as alcohol started influencing their behaviors. He took another sip of his own drink, finishing it in one gulp.

If he was being honest with himself, he was also starting to feel the affects drinking had on his body and on his mind.

He leaned onto the wall behind him, arms crossed on his chest as Denki came into sight, marching towards him, arms intertwined with the two women at his sides.

One of them he recognized as Jiro, whom he was relatively convinced Denki had a major crush on. The other, however, he could not recall ever having the pleasure of meeting.

“Shinso, don’t be rude, say hi!” He rolled his eyes before nodding silently at them both. “Good enough. Okay! Me and Jiro against the two of you. Let’s do this.”

/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*

Shinso was sure Denki had let him win for some odd reason his mind could not fathom.

As the two of them argued over why they lost the game, he cleared his throat, offering his hand to the shorter woman by his side

“I’m Shinso. Hitoshi Shinso. It’s nice to make your acquaintance”

She smiled, giving him a firm handshake.

“I know who you are, Brainwashing Hero.” His eyes widened, astonished anyone, let alone an alluring young woman, would know who he was. Was she not frightened of his quirk like everyone else had been? “My name is Aruna Ai.”

He heard himself hum before the words spilled from his mouth like word vomit.

“The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.” He finished, taking a deep breath after such a long-winded sentence.

“Did you just quote Deng Ming-Doa’s Everyday Tao: Living with Balance and Harmony at me?” Aruna stared at Shinso, brows furrowed as her lips quirked up.

His hand found the back of his neck as heat rose to his cheeks in mortification, unable to look directly at her.

“Sorry, I don’t know where that came from, heh.” He continued to look everywhere but her, feeling crushingly stupid. Aruna chuckled, placing the palm of her hand on his muscular arm and squeezing.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m already a fan.” An overwhelming sense of calm overtook him then, like something paranormal was causing him to relax.

“What’s your quirk?” He blurted. He scratched his skull, once again mortified that he seemed to not have a filter tonight.

She squeezed his arm again before dropping her hand to her side, smiling brightly up at him.

“Well aren’t you just the most perceptive man?” She crammed her hand into her pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of her shoes, seemingly deep in thought.

He patiently watched her.

“I can manifest emotions in others if I have direct skin contact with them. My power varies depending on the cycle of the moon though.”

He felt his eyebrow arch in curiosity. It was sort of similar to his own quirk, when he thought about it.

“That is truly fascinating, Aruna.”

She huffed and laughed. “Not as fascinating as being able to brainwash someone. I wonder what it feels like.”

“Care to find out?” He couldn’t believe the words leaving his own mouth.

“I would love to.” No hesitation in her voice, only a slight blush stained her cheeks.

His eyes narrowed as he stared into hers. “Are you sure?” His voice low.

She rolled her eyes “Of course I’m sure, Shin-“ Her eyes glazed over as her mind went blank.

“Follow me.” Came the command.

Although she had no control over her own movements, her mind was still aware enough to realise what was happening.

She was led across the crowds and through the halls. He silently guided her into an unoccupied office, small cots lined up on the walls.

He released his hold on her mind, allowing her a moment to turn around and leave, if she so chose.

His gaze never left her face, eyes concentrated on the way her cheeks darkened. Mortified, no doubt.

They remained standing, unmoving for long moments. Hesitation welled in him for a second, unsure of himself. Aruna’s breathing came out in a sigh as she strode forward, toward him in quick steps. When she reached him, her hands grasped his clothed shoulders as she pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes, raising her lips to meet his in a sweet kiss.

Purple eyes widened at the unexpected contact.

“I just… wanted to do that of my own accord first.” She whispered as she stepped back, breathing heavier than moments before, smile on her lips.

“You look at me like you think I’m someone else.” He said simply.

Her eyes narrowed, a look he could not read painting her features.

“How do I say this… We don’t have to talk, and we don’t have to dance around it, we don’t even have to be friends. I’m attracted to you…I want you to brainwash me. And…” She paused as Shinso slowly approached her.

Eyes peered into hers, pupils dilated. “And?”

“And… I want you to use me as you wis-“ Her mouth hung open, no words coming out as Shinso gained control once again. If she could smirk, she would have.

“Come here.” Her feet pulled her to where he was now sat on one of the cots.

Large hands grasped hers. The softness of her fingers in comparison to his own, rough and calloused, felt like heaven.

Shinso had never done anything like this before and the thrill of it all made blood rush through his entire body, his heart hammering in his chest.

He looked up into her blank eyes, dick twitching against his slacks at the sight of her. He couldn’t wait to see her ruined by him.

He couldn’t get enough of her soft skin, gliding his fingers up her arm and to her neck while the other hand drifted lower, reaching under her dress.

A devilish smirk formed on his face when his fingers tightened around her throat, a soft gasp leaving her mouth.

Hiking her dress up, he dug his fingers into her hip, pulling Aruna closer, lowering his head to kiss just above his tight grip.

Teeth grazed against her skin, eliciting soft moans from above as he nipped and kissed and sucked, marking her. He hoped the resulting bruises would last weeks, reminding her of tonight.

Despite that most thought that, while under the influence of his quirk, his victims couldn’t remember what they’d done under Shinso’s control, it all depended if he wanted them to remember or not.

He most definitely wanted Aruna to remember tonight, needed her to feel and see everything he would do to her and have her do to him.

“Spread your legs.”

A hum left his lips as she did what she was told, legs far enough apart for his face to fit nicely between soft thighs.

“Good girl.” He whispered, looking up into those blank eyes, her pupils now dilated, a look of lust filling them.

He kept his gaze fixated on hers as he released her neck, hand gliding to her breast, squeezing it gently. Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of her body. Her soft curves and her even softer skin. The breathy moans that left her lips at every new sensation.

Perhaps she was the one ruining him.

Both hands were on her hips, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties, dragging them down her legs and around her feet. He placed them in his pant pocket. They were his now.

As he pressed his nose to her, he inhaled deeply, a groan ripping through his throat. Absolute heaven, the scent of her driving him crazy with need.

His tongue met her folds, licking up to her clit before bringing it into his mouth and sucking. He felt her knees go weak, the only thing holding her up straight now were his strong hands at her hips.

She tasted absolutely amazing. Shinso’s eyes squeezed shut as he devoured her. He was sure his fingers were leaving bruises. He hoped they were.

Leaving her pussy for air was torture, but he could feel his control over her slipping as he got lost in the taste of her.

“I’m going to let go of your hips now. Don’t fall.”

He wiped his chin of her juices with the back of his hand, tongue darting out to gather the droplets on his lips. He pressed his palm down onto his cock, needing some kind of touch to release the pressure building inside him.

Nimble fingers unbuckled his belt, releasing his cock from its confines. Aruna glanced down, eyes lidded.

Her own tongue slipped from her mouth, licking her lips at the sight of him slowly stroking his cock, tired eyes locked on hers.

“Come taste me.” The commanding tone sent noticeable shivers down her spine, clearly trembling where she stood.

She could feel herself resisting the request, his control wavering as pleasure began to overtake his senses.

“ Obey me.” Aruna’s knees hit the floor, palms resting on his thighs as she positioned her mouth over him.

One calloused hand cupped her cheek, guiding her lower, the other gripping the base of his cock.

The sound that rumbled through his chest was unholy as she took as much of him into her warm mouth as she possibly could, hallowing her cheeks the instant the head hit the back of her throat.

“F-fuck. Aruna” His fingers fisted into her hair, staring down at her as drool dribbled down her chin. He gently pushed her down on his cock, face fucking her softly. He didn’t want to hurt her, but fuck if her wet tongue across the underside of his dick didn’t feel like paradise.

She moaned around him as he thrust into her mouth, sending delightful vibrations through him, dick twitching in her mouth. He was losing control. He could feel it.

Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock and- he was sure it would be the end of him. This girl. How did he get so fucking lucky?

Aruna’s fingers dug into his thighs as she came up for air, his quirk weak enough from the pleasure to break out of it.

His eyes widened as she quickly rose to her feet, pushing his chest down as she settled onto his lap, sitting on his cock, sinking down on it in one swift movement.

Strong hands grasped her hips once more, furiously fucking up into her. Every moan from her lips sent heat through him.

“You like that, baby?” He asked, voice hoarse and husky.

“Y-yes. Hah. You feel so good, Hitosh-“ Her pussy tightened around him, losing herself to his control once more.

“Silly girl. Stick your tongue out for me, and don’t stop fucking yourself on my cock.”

Her eyes blank again, tongue sticking out, drooling down her face. It was absolutely stunning. So fucking beautiful, and it was all for him. He had never seen anything so breathtaking.

He stared into her face, bringing his thumb to her clit, gently pressing circles into it and watched as she shuddered, grinding on him harder, breaths coming out unevenly, whimpers escaping her lips every time he bottomed out in her.

“You’re so beautiful. Aruna. Fuck. The way I fit inside you, like we were meant to be like this.”

The words left his mouth, any shame he might have felt discarded, pleasure overwhelming his every sense. She looked amazing, tasted amazing, smelt amazing. She was perfect.

He grasped her throat again, other hand on her ass as he met her thrust for thrust. She was close, he could feel it in the way her walls clenched around him, in the way her eyes crossed, tongue still lolling from her delicious little mouth.

“Come for me, my lovely moon. “

She stilled above him, walls clenching tight one more time as her insides fluttered around him, sending him over the edge, cock spurting deep inside her, a growl leaving his throat, fingers tightening painfully around her neck.

She collapsed against his chest as he released control over her, breathing heavily in the crook of his neck as he gently caressed her back and played with her hair, calming her as she came down from her orgasm.

Shinso adjusted her dress to cover her body. His heart felt full for what seemed like the first time in his life.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Aruna.”

He felt her smile against his neck.

There was no point in saving the world if it meant losing the moon.

Art by Me

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Also, we talked a mill years ago about an Inuyasha AU? You wanted to make G wear the necklace etc. Which OBVIOUSLY is a fantastic idea and I really which you would, please 🤣😘💗

Okay, so this isn’t exactly the necklace bit, but it’s the most Inuyasha crossover thing I could think of at the moment! Also I’m sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for so long! <3 Oops!

Geralt turns into a human one night a month, during the new moon.

wordcount: 1.7k

TW: emotional Geralt whump, angst with a happy ending, pining

---

“Stay in the room,” Geralt instructed, glaring Jaskier down from his place near the door. The bard nodded obediently and made a show of pulling his recently acquired book from his travel bag. 

“I might go down and perform for a bit, but I promise not to bring anyone back and I promise not to start any fights.”

“I’d rather you didn’t leave the room at all,” Geralt grumbled, “But I suppose the coin wouldn’t hurt.”

“Where are you going, anyway?”

“Next town over. Nightwraith.”

“Why can’t I come with you?” the bard pouted. His lower lip stuck out slightly and his eyes crinkled so cutely that it always made the Witcher question his ‘human’ parentage; there was a siren’s power in the way he turned up his nose and fluttered his pretty lashes. “Surely I could sit incredibly high up in a very sturdy tree and watch my glorious companion in all his… glory?”

“Excellent word choice,” Geralt rolled his eyes. He hefted his swords over his shoulder and shot the bard another meaningful look.  “I’ll see you in the morning. Stay. Safe.”

“Yes, Milord,” Jaskier sighed dramatically, flopping back against the pillows and opening his book. “Return to me in as few pieces as possible, dear heart.”

“Hmm.”

And with that, Geralt disappeared into the late afternoon light. 

---

There had been several distinctive changes to Geralt’s physical body after the second round of experimental Trials; his hair, of course, and his ghostly-pale skin were the most obvious. His greatest secret, however, and the strangest of all the Trials’ side effects, were the temporary changes he underwent on the nights of the new moon. His Witcher strength and senses abandoned him and his body returned to its pre-Trial state. He became, for all intents and purposes, a normal human man. 

He hated it. He hated himself. There was no power behind his punches on his human nights and while he remained graceful and competent with his swords, he lost his speed and dexterity. It left him feeling helpless and alone, and an onslaught of emotions (which he was usually able to suppress or ignore) flooded his mind, pulling tears from his eyes and putting a ruddy redness on his cheeks and ears that he found ugly. No doubt Jaskier would find him just as hideous. And useless…

If he couldn’t protect the bard, the handsome young human who smiled at him as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be friends with a Witcher, then what good was he? Keeping Jaskier safe, keeping him alive and smiling like that, was what motivated Geralt to slump his way back to their room even when he wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and pass out from exhaustion. Making sure Jaskier was okay (and, alright, getting his wounds fawned over and his hair washed wasn’t too bad either) was what kept him alive.

I can’t believe I forgot to keep track, Geralt berated himself as he set up his small campfire just inside the mouth of a cave. I almost revealed my secret to Jaskier. 

Geralt wasn’t sure which outcome he feared more: Jaskier seeing him in his less horrible state and rejecting him completely for keeping secrets/being a true monster, or Jaskier finding his human body attractive and being even more disgusted by his Witchery appearance. Geralt wouldn’t be able to stand either outcome, so he disappeared into the woods or back to the Path (if Jaskier was stuck in a town, teaching or performing) whenever the night of the new moon arrived.

He sighed and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his bent knees and setting his chin on one upright palm. He glanced up at Roach and grumbled out an excuse: “I just don’t want to lose him.”

Roach whinnied quietly, reproachfully, and Geralt nodded. 

“You’re absolutely right, I should tell Jaskier about all of this, but if I tell him now, after travelling together for so long, he’ll think I don’t trust him. And I do trust him! I trust him as much as I trust my brothers, maybe more considering their pranks… But I don’t want to scare him off, either. I’m such a fucking coward.”

As the last light of day slipped away beneath the horizon and darkness fell, Geralt felt his hair grow coarser and heavier atop his head. His eyesight dimmed and his knowledge of the landscape - every scent and sound - disappeared from his consciousness. The scars on his skin faded away into nothing as his pupils dilated into circles, the irises shifting from honey-gold to a deep, forest green. 

From a nearby bush, Geralt heard a familiar voice mutter, “Holy shit.”

He leapt to his feet and backed against the cave wall, throwing his arm across his face to hide it. “Dammit, Jaskier, I told you to stay at the inn!”

The bard took a nervous step forward, away from his hiding place, and waved bashfully. “Sorry, dear heart. Are you really- is it really you in there, Geralt?”

“Yes?” the Witcher-turned-human raised an eyebrow, lowering his arm back down to his side with no small amount of shame. “Who else would it be?”

“Well,” the bard said, taking a measured step forward. “I wasn’t sure if this was, like, a reverse-werewolf type deal. I didn’t know if you’d have the same memories as before or- or if-”

“It’s still me,” Geralt blushed, actually blushed, and dipped his head down to avoid Jaskier’s curious gaze. “I’m sorry for not telling you before, but-”

“Don’t.”

Geralt glanced back up, even more confused, his emotions playing havoc with his pulse. “I- Don’t I owe you an apology?”

“No,” Jaskier said, settling down on the rocky ground across the fire and gesturing for Geralt to join him. The flames lit up his face, highlighting the roundness of his cheeks and the softness in his eyes. So youthful, yet so determined. “If you’re still Geralt in here” - he tapped the side of his head and grinned playfully - “then you’re still my best friend.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh yeah, my Witcher is definitely in there somewhere,” Jaskier laughed brightly. The sound wound down and he wiped a tear of glee from the corner of his eye. After a long, sobering pause he asked: “So is this what you looked like before… they did all that stuff to you?”

“Before the Trials? Yes. This is what I looked like fifty years or so ago, when I was young and mortal. My shoulders are wider, of course, but that’s just old age.”

Jaskier made his way slowly around the fire, inching closer to Geralt, who had finally taken a seat on his bedroll. When the bard was right next to him, close enough for Geralt to feel their combined body heat through his shirt, he took a lock of Geralt’s hair in his hand. “It’s… it’s not as soft, like this. But it has curls! And it’s almost red!”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier looked overjoyed at the change, and every one of Geralt’s fears flashed before his eyes. He was tempted to wrench away, to fling himself up into Roach’s saddle and ride hard until they both needed a rest. 

But Jaskier had begun talking again, and Geralt did his best to pay attention. “It’s different, but not bad. I think you’re only slightly more handsome when you’re a Witcher, but  your eyes are a lovely shade of green and I’d love to do up your hair someday… if you’d like that. If you’d let me.”

Geralt made a startled noise and turned his head sharply, his eyes boring into Jaskier’s very soul. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course!”

“You don’t- you aren’t mad? Or scared? You don’t think I’m more approachable like this? You wouldn’t prefer me to be like this - like a human - all the time?”

Jaskier shook his head, a sadness Geralt often noticed but didn’t understand falling over his face. “Oh Geralt, you silly, silly, wonderful man. I don’t lo-” - he paused, took a deep breath, and continued - “I love you, okay? As a Witcher. Like this. I have always loved you and I will always love you, regardless of what you look like, but I fell in love with the White Wolf. The man whose reputation needed mending and whose heart… whose heart is so incredibly large despite how often the world tries to harden it.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt gasped. He clutched at his chest, the ache he felt there intensifying a hundredfold under Jaskier’s steady gaze. “I love you, too. I never thought-”

“You often don’t,” the bard teased, closing the space between them with careful, intentional slowness. “Now, keep up the good work and stop thinking entirely. Just kiss me, Geralt. Please?”

“Would you like it if I kissed you?” the Witcher asked, incredulous. Jaskier lifted one delicate hand and slid a lock of Geralt’s curly hair back behind his ear. He pressed a soft kiss to Geralt’s cheek and smiled. 

“Very much, darling.”

“Alright,” Geralt breathed, closing the space between them. It felt so much more intense like this, with his heart beating as quickly as Jaskier’s, threatening to burst from his chest because it was overflowing with happiness. His hand, smooth and unblemished in its current state, cupped the peach-soft skin of the bard’s cheek. He ran his thumb over the hinge of Jaskier’s jaw, feeling the bone and joint working as their mouths moved together. When they finally pulled apart they were both beaming broadly, “Was it okay?”

“You’re very soft like this,” Jaskier noted. “But I miss your eyes and your hair… when will my Geralt return?”

“I’m still yours, Jaskier. Even when I look like this,” Geralt frowned. Jaskier took one of the Witcher’s hands in both of his and held it flat over his heart.

“I know, my dear. And I’m always yours, of course. It’s just… odd. I’ll get used to it the more often I see it, I’m sure. How long does it usually last?”

“I’ll be back to normal when the sun rises.”

“Until then?”

“Come here,” Geralt held up the corner of his blanket. Jaskier shifted so that they were cuddled together, side-by-side. “Better?”

“Now that I’m with you? Of course.”

[fridayfirefly]

The Art of Debate

Read on AO3

Written for Timari January Day 29 - Debate Competition

@timari-month-event

Marinette had always had a gift with words. The ability to use her words to convince people to do what she wanted came naturally to her. At the age of five, Marinette convinced her kindergarten teacher to take their whole class to get ice cream. At the age of thirteen, she joined her first debate team and was a crucial part of the winning debate that got her team third place in Regionals. Two years later, she was the captain of her high school debate team, and they were competing all over France. Two years after that, in her last year of high school, Marinette's team qualified for an international debate competition that took them all around the world. The championship debate, between Francois Dupont Academy and Gotham Academy, was to be held in Gotham.

Marinette had faith in her team that they would win. The team of ten debaters practiced every afternoon for months, led by Marinette and her co-captain Lila.

Lila had been an unexpected addition to the team, given that Marinette and Lila had gotten off to a bad start when Lila first joined her class. However, after witnessing Lila so thoroughly convince the class of a lie so outrageous that Marinette could hardly believe that anyone with half a brain would see right through it, Marinette realized that Lila's skills could be put to good use. Marinette offered the Italian girl a deal. If Lila joined the debate team and promised to never use her lies to cause direct harm, Marinette would no longer call her out of her harmless lies. Lila agreed, and quickly became one of their key debaters.

Over time, Lila started lying less and less, as she realized that she didn't need to lie to make friends. Two years after the first joined the debate team, Lila stayed after practice and offered Marinette a deal. Lila would never lie again if Marinette made her co-captain of the debate team. In full faith, Marinette agreed. She had seen the change in Lila and knew that there was a chance that they might even become friends.

"How's practice going?" asked Marinette as Lila joined her at the front of the classroom. Marinette was going over the paperwork for their upcoming championship debate while Lila was running practice. Their team members were hard at work: Aurore and Mireille were debating net neutrality, Kagami and Ivan were debating the right to own firearms, Sabrina and Nathanial were debating the morality of abortion, and Max and Marc were debating the ethics of medically assisted suicide.

"It's going well. I have everyone partnered up, working on either the affirmative or negative position. Then they'll split into either the research group or the public speaking group, based on what skills they need to improve on."

Marinette smiled. "We're going to win this, I just know it."

Lila gave her a devious smile back. "As if I would let us lose."

---

In the hallway of the Gotham Grand Hotel, outside of the ballroom where the debate tournament was being held, Marinette fed US dollar bills into a vending machine. "Diet coke is... A7." Marinette pressed the button and waited as the machine refused to give her the drink. "Are you serious?" sighed Marinette.

"Need some help?" asked a dark-haired boy in a sweater with an iron-on patch reading Gotham Preparatory Academy Debate Team. He was cute, in a nerdy kind of way. Nerdy wasn't Marinette's usual type, but she could see the appeal with the boy in front of her.

"I gave the machine my money but it won't give me my drink, and my debate - our debate, actually - starts in just a few minutes."

"I'll let you in on a secret. You aren't supposed to shake it, but if you do it anyway..." the boy shook the machine, and Marinette's diet coke tumbled down into the tray below.

Marinette smiled. "Thank you! I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, by the way. I'm co-captain of the team from Françoise Dupont."

"Timothy Drake, but you can call me Tim. I look forward to seeing you debate."

"Thanks, you too." Marinette watched as Tim turned and left, jogging to catch up with one of his teammates, a blonde girl who glanced over towards Marinette with a knowing smile on her face. Any other day, Marinette would have spent a little more of her attention on Tim, but today she knew she had to focus. Marinette had a debate to win.

---

"We live in a world facing an incredible number of challenges. However, there is one challenge that often sticks out among the rest as the most pressing issue, with much debate over its severity. Is climate change the greatest threat facing humanity today? Collège Françoise Dupont, you will be arguing the affirmative. Gotham Preparatory Academy, you will be arguing the negative.

Kagami and Max went up first, two excellent debaters, and while the students from Gotham were certainly good, they were no match for Kagami and Max. Kagami had the self-assured confidence to never show any doubt about the validity of her claims and Max had the raw knowledge to win any debate through the sheer amount of factual evidence he could bring to the table. The first round went to Kagami and Max, giving Françoise Dupont a strong start.

As Marinette high-fived Kagami and Max, she caught a glimpse of Tim out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at her with a look on his face that Marinette couldn't quite decipher - confusion or frustration or some mix of the two. Either way, Marinette didn't particularly enjoy being stared at. She met his eyes and stared right back, narrowing her eyes. Tim looked away, a slight flush to his face. Marinette was left feeling more confused than anything else. Why was Tim staring at her, and why with such an odd look on his face?

Three more rounds of debate followed, with wins alternating between Collège Françoise Dupont and Gotham Academy. The schools were tied two and two by the final round, but Marinette couldn't quite stay focused on the debate. The only thing she could focus on was Tim. Watching him in her periphery, Marinette could see him having a heated exchange with one of the girls on his team, the blonde that Marinette had noticed earlier.

"Focus, Marinette!" hissed Lila. "This is the final round, and you and I are up."

The announcer stepped up to the microphone to announce the topic of debate. "This topic has been in the news a lot these past few weeks, with the introduction of the Superhero Registration Act. Though most news sources consider it unlikely that the bill will pass, it raises the question which you will be debating today: Should the government have a larger role in regulating the actions of vigilante superheroes? Gotham Preparatory Academy, you will be arguing the affirmative. Françoise Dupont, you will be arguing the negative."

Marinette shared a look with Lila, who was already smirking. "No way we lose this one," Lila mouthed.

Marinette nodded, narrowing her eyes at the opposing team. Even if Tim was cute, there was no way she was losing.

The affirmative started the debate, meaning that the team from Gotham spoke first. Stephanie Brown, Tim's blonde teammate from earlier, began with a lecture about a lack of accountability associated with vigilante justice. It was a flimsy argument if you knew where to poke holes in it. Luckily, that was what Marinette was best at.

"It's been universally accepted that superheroes are a necessary part of our current culture. The one job a superhero has is to save as many lives as possible. How are they supposed to complete that one job if there is constant government restriction and intervention? We've all watched for years as superheroes operated outside of the government - this is because superheroes don't need to be regulated. In addition, I would like to ask: in what way do superheroes need to be more accountable? Our world has seen time and time again that the superhero community keeps itself in check. When one superhero starts to stray from the path of good, they are held accountable by their fellow superheroes."

The debate continued, back and forth between Marinette, Tim, Lila, and Stephanie. With bated breath, Marinette waited for the results of the round to be announced.

"The final round goes to... Collège Françoise Dupont!"

"We did it!" cheered Marinette, as she got up to congratulate her teammates. She celebrated with the rest of her team but still couldn't shake her odd feeling about Tim Drake. Something wasn't right with him, and Marinette was going to figure out what it was.

There was a celebratory banquet after the competition, in which the awards would be given out and the organizers would give their speeches. As Marinette entered the banquet hall she was Tim slip out of the banquet hall and into the hallway at the other side of the room. She made the snap decision to follow him, maneuvering herself through crowds of people until she got to the right exit.

As Marinette turned down the hallway, she caught Tim whispering into his phone in the hallway. As soon as Tim caught sight of her he quickly hung up his phone and shoved it in his pocket. Marinette approached him, eyes narrowing. "Why were you staring at me?"

Tim glanced around to see if anyone else was around, then blurted out, "You're Ladybug."

Marinette froze. That was not what she expected to hear. "I- I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You're the Parisian superhero, Ladybug. It all makes sense - black hair, blue eyes, same approximate height and weight. You're incredibly passionate about superheroes - that's what tipped me off in the first place. To top it all off, you're from the same school that Ladybug has a nearly instantaneous response time for dealing with akumas that arise out of it. I didn't see anyone on your team who fit the profile of Chat Noir, but I guarantee that if I were to snoop around online I could find a picture of you with a blonde-haired green-eyed boy." Tim's rapid-fire analysis left Marinette with no chance to refute his claims.

"You figured all of that out during our hour-long debate tournament?"

Tim nodded slowly. "I'm a bit of a detective, myself. In fact, compared to some of my other detective work, figuring out that you were a superhero was easy."

"You're the first person to ever deduce that I'm Ladybug - including my friends, parents, and Chat Noir himself - and all you have to say for yourself is that it was easy?" exclaimed Marinette.

Tim shrugged awkwardly, seeming to have no words to defend himself. Or perhaps it was because he didn't trust himself to say anything, because he had already revealed more than he had intended to. At that point, Marinette started to make her own deductions. The ease at which he had figured out that she was Ladybug. The fact that he had alluded to making other deductions comparable to figuring out Marinette's Ladybug secret. His knowledge of Ladybug - a minor superhero from across the globe - to the extent that he knew not only her approximate height and weight but her reaction times for akumatizations in different areas of Paris. The pieces started coming together in Marinette's mind. Her eyes narrowed as she accused, "You're a superhero too, Timothy Drake. Or, at the very least, you've worked with superheroes before."

Tim took the accusation even less gracefully than Marinette did, shaking his head rapidly as he backed up a few paces. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I have no idea what you're talking about. Me? A superhero? No way!" Tim ended his babbling with a nervous laugh.

Marinette smiled pleasantly, pleased with herself. Although it wasn't ideal that a stranger knew her secret identity, she now knew that Tim wouldn't be spilling her secret to anyone, not when Marinette had the exact same dirt on him. "I'll see you around, Tim." Marinette whipped around and started to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait! Marinette!" Tim called out.

Marinette tried to suppress the smile on her face as she walked back into the banquet hall. She was beginning to like Tim, and she could tell that this wouldn't be the last she saw of him. Now, all she had to do was get on even footing with him. Perhaps, by figuring out his secret identity. Which, Marinette figured, wouldn't be too difficult. After all, how many superheroes could Gotham possibly have?

(Cut to: Marinette, back at her hotel room, trying to tell the different members of the Batfamily apart. "How do they all have black hair and blue eyes? How is that even possible?")

[papergirllife]

Chapter 3

Synopsis:

You don’t know what it’s like to be free, to make your own choices, and live your own life. For your whole life, your parents have been treating you like a puppet on strings, controlling your life to every single detail, as well as ignoring the fact that you have feelings. Other times, when you disobey their wishes, or speak up about your own opinions, they bash you down with words, in other words, psychological abuse, has led you down the long winded road of depression and anxiety. What happens when you meet a man who’s willing to be your guide out of this terrible downpour? Would you give a shot at happily ever after?

Warnings:

big age gap (kinda?)

issues on anxiety

issues on depression (mild)

issues on parental abuse

smut (maybe)

Tag List: @etherealtyjaem​ ,  @caratzennie  , @johnnysuhnflower  ,  @euphoricchannie  ,  @yeollieseo  ,  @jjhmk  , @sherzess , @wonderfulkoreanpop​

(lmk if you wanna be on the list)

You’ve been seeing Mr Suh, correction, Johnny, his first name, as per requested by Johnny himself.

“Mr Suh makes me feel older than I already am, you make me feel like a teenager all over again, so you have to call me Johnny. Let me relive my days when I was still a college kid.”

You didn’t mind, things aren’t as awkward between the two of you anymore, Johnny’s been spending time with you, although the two of you never established any sort of labelling towards what this relationship is. You and Johnny only hung out and had meals together, trying out different cuisines, watching movies, even going as far as skipping a day at work to go to the amusement park. He even bought you to an arcade when you told him you haven’t had the chance to venture to one since you were in grade school.

“Why haven’t you ever been to one for so long?” Johnny asked when he finished a round of pinball.

“They said it was a waste of time and that I should spend more time studying,” you said, wondering why Johnny would ask that, isn’t it the same for all the kids?

Whenever you mention your confining life to Johnny, he’d have a faraway look in his eyes, jaw locked in silent rebuke, he doesn’t say anything, he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He would be quite for almost half an hour before he goes back to regular cheerful Johnny, telling you lame jokes that you would surprisingly find funny.

You didn’t have a phone, since your parents forbid you to have one, the only means of communicating is through your email account on your laptop, and even that you must always bear in mind to delete his mails right after, and take further precaution, you didn’t allow him to initiate the sending.

Johnny wanted to buy you one, but you rejected him promptly, you didn’t want him to spend so much money on you, he already spends lots on taking you out to eat. You gave him the excuse that it was too dangerous, and the consequences of getting caught are severe.

You often questioned your relationship with Johnny, you aren’t dumb, you’ve googled him and saw gossip news portals uploading photos of him and some model going out and about in hotels, but those headlines were months ago, the latest news about him was from his interview with Times magazine.

You never had the guts to ask him, you don’t know what you mean to him. What right do you have to question his whereabouts and what he does? He’ll probably be bored of you after he’s known all of you.

You know you shouldn’t think of Johnny that way, it is mean to assume what he’s thinking, especially how well he’s treating you, but seeing those headlines gives you a sense of insecurity, you keep telling yourself that this won’t last, but the thought of not seeing him again made your hair stand. He’s making you happy, a distraction towards the negativity you face in that house you live in, but for how long?

House. You never called it a home, unless you were telling your boss you were leaving, to prevent anyone from questioning your odd way of describing it. It was never a home to you. To you, a home is a place where you feel happy, safe, and most importantly, loved. The closest you’ve ever felt to having these feelings were your grandma and Joh... No, you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you. What were you thinking?

You pushed those thoughts away as you opened your laptop to double check the files that you’ve typed out for your parent’s next important meeting that was supposed to be taking place first thing tomorrow. But when you went through your folders, the files were nowhere to be seen. It’s then you realised that the notification that keeps urging you to update the laptop was gone, it wasn’t the first time you updated the laptop and found out some files were missing, so you would never update the laptop at such a crucial time.

You took the laptop out to your father who was watching some news on his phone in the dining area to ask him if he had updated the software without alerting you.

“Yes, I did. What about it?” he asked, annoyance on his face due to the sudden disturbance.

“The files are missing because of the update,” you informed him.

“What files?” 

“The files for tomorrow’s meeting, they’re missing,” you told him as you mentally prepared yourself for what’s to come.

“What do you mean missing?! I bet it was because you saved it wrongly again! Your retarded brain never works does it?! Do you know how important those files are?! You always work on them late at night blurry eyed, of course you didn’t save them properly! You could’ve worked on them in the morning before work. but no... You want to ‘exercise’! What a waste of time!” You’re not pretty anyways, what are you doing them for huh?!” Your father shouted, his eyes blazing in rage, his fist slamming onto the glass.

While your father was shouting, your mother was checking the laptop as she complains about how clueless you are. It was like your brain couldn’t take the amount of hurtful words piercing into your mind like daggers, you let out a high pitched scream as tears threatened to fall, your hands covering your ears as your eyes were a blur.

When you could see properly again, you could make up words which sounded like ‘how dare you’ from your father, next thing you registered were the fury in his eyes as he advances on you, hand above his head, ready to hit you. You didn’t know what came over you, but the first thing you did was kicking him away. That’s when a full on fight broke out.

You were filled with rage, your mind wasn’t registering what you were doing. You went into a flight or fight stance and started thrashing and kicking as his hands were holding painfully tight on your wrists after you tried punching him.

Your mom urges the both of you not to fight, her voice barely registering in your head as she sits still on the high chair by the kitchen island, not bothered to even try to cease the fight.

When you finally pushed him away, you ran into your room and locked it. Your chest was heaving from the panic attack that just started, you tried your best to calm yourself down, reminding yourself to breathe, it was suffocating, controlling your breathing as more tears made its way out of your eyes.

When it all stopped, your body succumbed into mental exhaustion, passing out on your bed as the tears finally ceased.

You only woke up for dinner last night, and proceeded to sleep again. Yesterday’s events made you feel numb, other than the pain from the bruises on your arms.

There was a big ugly one on your left upper arm, its colour an ugly shade of green and purple.  A few other less serious ones scattered around your lower arms. In other words, you look like a wreck.

You wore a jacket to run even though you were sweating from your previous cardio work outs, feeling a little better after the endorphins in your body kicked in. When you got back, you quickly showered and ate a toast. When you asked for your mother’s phone to remind your boss you were going to take the day off, she told you that weren’t needed at the meeting anymore and that she finished everything last night.

“Just call to say that you’ll be going to work,” she said, not even looking in your direction when she handed you her phone.

But when you called to inform your boss, he told you that he had another part time coming in, and that it was too short of a notice. You said thank you and hung up, but said that you’ll be at work on time today before handing it back to your mother.

You really needed to escape for the day.

You opened the laptop and sent an email to Johnny.

I’m free today. Wanna go out?

You sat on your bed staring at the ceiling as you were sure it was going to be a bit before he replied, but just as you closed your eyes, you heard a distant chime from your laptop.

I’m rushing some stuff at the office today. I’m so sorry, Y/N.

Can I stay in your office? I really wanna get out of the house.

You sounded like a spoiled kid begging for attention, but you really wanted to see him today.

Sure. But you might get bored :) .

I’m leaving the house now :) .

For a 26 year old businessman, he sure loves to use emoticons.

You got changed into jeans and a jacket, you don’t usually wear one if you were going to a secluded area with Johnny, but you had to hide all the marks from last night. You just noticed that they hurt after you accidentally knocked your wrist against something.

You took the bus to the address Johnny wrote down on your diary, it was after one of your dinners together, and he jokingly said that you could always swing by if you wanted, you didn’t know you were going to actually do that.

The bus station wasn’t too far of a walk from his office, since it was just downtown Seoul where the Korea’s financial hub was located.

As you were nearing the office buildings, you stood out like a sore thumb, given the way you were dressed and your age. The people kept giving you stink eyes and sideway glances.

Suh Capital Partners. That was it.

You walked in the rotating doors, only to be greeted by masses of people walking around with smart pads, files, talking on the phone while the assistants take notes. Johnny didn’t mention his company being this big.

You admired the facade of the lobby, it displayed the latest news on a large monitor while futuristic lights hung from the high ceiling, the walls were a perfect balance of steel and wood with a wall of plants filled the wall behind the reception area. 

You realised that the people stopped what they were doing before and started looking at you curiously when one of the nicely dressed women from the reception walked up to you.

“Excuse me, miss. May I ask who are you looking for?” the woman asked, her eyes scanning you from top to toe.

You froze at your spot from how cold she sounded, like she didn’t want you around to ruin the aesthetic of the company. You reminded yourself that you weren’t going to see her anytime soon after this and that if you did make a fool of yourself then so be it.

“I’m looking for Mr Suh,” you told her.

She looked taken aback from your answer, but gave you the ugliest sneer when she recovered.

“Miss, this isn’t a school, you can’t just walk in here and demand to see someone without an appointment. Mr Suh is the head of this company, not someone you can just meet without an agreement from him. Please leave this instance,” she said, her tone high pitched enough to gather everyone’s attention, you swore you heard someone laughing a few feet away.

“But...

“That’s my guest, Ms Park.”

You whipped your head back to see Johnny standing behind you. But instead of his usual warm honey eyes, his eyes were a cold and staring daggers into the woman in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Suh. I’ll get back to my work now,” the woman bowed apologetically, going as far as doing it numerous times.

“I’m going to need a key card for her, Ms Park. Send it up to me when you’re done,” Johnny said, but his eyes were scanning the crowd, his employees immediately went back to what they were doing, the large lobby void of any sound other than people rushing to the lift lobby to escape the scene.

Johnny placed a hand behind your back and guided you to the lift lobby after most of the people have taken the ride up to their respective floors.

“I’m sorry,” you said after the coast was clear.

Johnny’s intimidating stance broke as confusion takes over his face.

“What are you sorry for?” Johnny asked, he should be the one saying sorry.

“I’m such an embarrassment, coming here in my jeans and jacket with a canvas bag, looking like a kid,” you said, fingers nervously tugging the straps of your old bag.

“Hey, hey, hey. Nothing’s wrong with being young and dressing your age. They’re just grumpy from all the work. Don’t take their words into account, and you look great. Perfection as always,” Johnny said reassuringly, hands placed on your shoulder, the warmth of his palms calming you slightly.

“No....

You buried your face into your hands as he patted your head, you sneakily glanced up to see him smiling at you with a toothy grin. But you quickly regained posture as you saw an elevator door open with many pairs of legs.

Johnny wasn’t going in even though the lift was going up, that’s when people in the lift realised it was him, and quickly came out of the lift, saying sorry and greeting Johnny.

Johnny guided you in after the lift was cleared empty. His staff looking at you curiously, you weren’t used to having so many pairs of eyes on you, their curious eyes burning holes into you.

Johnny could sense your anxiousness from the way you were hiding behind his tall figure as the two of you walked into his office, there weren’t many people at that time, given the fact that only direct reports of his business partners came up to hand in documents.

You only felt yourself loosen up a bit after you took a seat on Johnny’s armchair in his huge office, overlooking Seoul’s skyline and the cars that were buzzing about on the roads. The view made you calm down a bit from the journey coming up here.

You felt the chair dip as Johnny took a seat on its armrest, his hands coming up to give your shoulders a nice massage. Johnny smiled at the way your eyes lit up from his comforting touch as you looked back to smile at him, he felt a warm feeling deep in his belly as he takes in your beautiful features and the warmth of your shoulders on his fingertips. But as he puts more pressure onto your shoulders, you wince slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Did your boss at work make you lift heavy stuff again?” Johnny asked, his hands ceased all movements, fearing that he would hurt you again.

You automatically thought of your fight with your father last night, it might be because of the force exerted from when he had pushed you.

“N-no, I just didn’t sleep well last night. I watched a horror movie and had a nightmare,” you lied, not knowing how he would react if you told him the truth.

“Be careful when watching these movies, Y/N. If you went to work and your boss really made you move heavy things today, then you would’ve strain your muscles,” Johnny said, going back to massaging your shoulders, but this time gently applying pressure on that spot, rubbing it in clockwise circles to ease the pain.

“I’m fine, Johnny. Didn’t you have work to rush? I don’t want to keep you away from important matters. And my shoulders feel much better now,” you said, moving away from his hands even though you could’ve let him do that forever, it felt so comforting, borderline addictive.

“Okay, I’ll tend to your shoulders again later.” Johnny said as he lays his head on top of yours, a gesture that he had came up with whenever he wanted to show affection to you without crossing uncharted territories, your heart sped up whenever he does that.

You were just sitting on the couch reading one of your old books when you looked up and saw Johnny frowning at his laptop, you placed your book down and made your way to Johnny.

“Don’t frown like that, you’ll get frown lines when you’ll get older, it’ll spoil your handsome face,” you joked.

Your hands reach out to smooth the creases on his forehead, a smile coming back to Johnny’s face.

“Thank you,” he said, taking your busy hand into his, lightly tracing the area between your thumb and your index finger.

“What’s bothering you?” you asked, unbeknownst to you, your lips were unconsciously set in a pout.

“There’s some documents that are supposed to be sent to my office in Chicago, but the English that’s written here isn’t up to standards, I’m worried the staff there won’t understand what the document is stating. I don’t mind correcting it, but I have other things to tend to as well,” Johnny explained to you.

“Can I take a look at it? I had Cambridge classes for 8 years. Guess it’s finally coming in handy. I mean only if you think I’m capable, I don’t want you to think I’m boasting or anything, I just really wanna help...

“Y/N, sweet, I trust you. Just let me get you a laptop,” he said before dialling to his secretary.

Once Johnny sent the files to that laptop, you started correcting some grammatical errors and replaced some terms that weren’t as professional, when Johnny was done with his meeting, you were done with the documents as well.

“Here, take a look. There might be mistakes,” you said after sending him the files back.

“You were reading ‘me before you’, I think you’re fine, Y/N,” Johnny deadpanned.

“Just take a look, just in case,” you pleaded, doe eyes capturing his heart. Nodding, Johnny smiles, doing as you said.

Johnny scanned through the documents, his eyes lighting up brighter after each sentence, a proud smile making way on his face. When he was done, he pulled you close by the waist, and gave you a warm hug, his head nuzzling into your sweater.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart. I thought I needed to work overtime because of this,” he said, his voice was slightly muffled by the cotton.

“You’re welcome. You can always send me these files when I’m not here, I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” you offered.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Wanna grab lunch? I can hear your stomach rumbling,” Johnny asked after pulling away, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as you hit Johnny’s shoulders lightly for his teasing, a smile creeping up your face.

“No, I’m not...

“Come on, I know this really nice French restaurant around the corner...

“Johnny I have the file you were...

Doyoung stops in his tracks as he sees you and Johnny being so close to each other.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a guest,” Doyoung apologises, but his eyes were still wide in disbelief.

“Doyoung. This is Y/N. Y/N, Doyoung is one of my business partners, his dad was my dad’s business partner so now it’s his turn,” Johnny introduces his friend to you, telling you a bit of his background.

You gave Doyoung a tiny bow and soft hello, nerves wrecking up at meeting someone you often see on telly whenever their company has a press conference. You could sense an air of discomfort as Doyoung gives you a questioning look.

“You can just put the files on my desk Doyoung. I’ll take a look at them after my lunch break.”

When the evening rolled in, Johnny had to drive you home before your mom questioned your whereabouts.

“I really enjoyed having you by my side today, Y/N,” Johnny said sincerely after pulling up outside the gated area.

“I should be the one thanking you, I can’t believe those snails cost so much, yet you won’t let me pay you back whenever we have meals together,” you retorted, recalling how your eyes almost flew out of their sockets when you stole a glance at the bill.

“Money is not an issue, Y/N. I told you that many times before,” Johnny reminded you.

“I’ll see you on Saturday?” you asked, changing the subject before he offers to buy you a house or something.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, chuckling at how you diverted his attention.

Johnny unlocked the doors of his car, but right before you pulled onto the handle, Johnny pulled your arm, the place where one of the bigger bruises were located at, making you wince at the unexpected pain.

“Y/N I wanted to ask, wait. Are you in pain? Are you hurt? Did I accidentally hurt you?” Johnny asked his eyes wide in worry.

Before you could protest, Johnny pushed up the sleeves of your sweater, revealing the big ugly bruise on your upper arm, and several others that went downwards until your wrist.

You looked up at Johnny, scanning his face that was frozen in shock, eyes not believing what he’s seeing. His fingers gently tracing every bruise, his other hand rotating your arm gently, to see if there’s more.

“Y/N... Who did this to you?” Johnny questioned, but deep down in his gut, he’s sure it’s who he thinks it is.

“No one, Johnny. I just fell down when I woke up,” you said, lying through your teeth, you didn’t want to, but that was your survival instinct whenever someone asks about your parents.

“Don’t lie to me Y/N, it’s them isn’t it? They hit you. Why didn’t you tell me?” Johnny demanded, he questions why you don’t trust him, was he not worthy in your eyes?

“It’s nothing, Johnny. Goodnight,” you said in a breath before turning away.

You quickly got out of his car and ran to your lift lobby, Johnny was following behind you. But before he could step into the premise, you shut the glass door which could only be opened with a security card on him, mouthing the words sorry before you made your way into a lift.

Johnny banged at the door, shouting for you to come back, before the security guards asked him to leave. He could feel a prickle in his heart as he sees the bruises in his head, the image fresh. He felt red hot anger boiling in his heart, he was going to get you out of that horrible place, no matter what it takes.

[lizzzweasley]

Love Potion (George x Reader)

*This is a re-write of my original ‘’Love Potion’’ story, i wasn’t happy with some of the details, so i’m adding a little bit extra to it, just so it makes sense for the future of this story*

*This story takes place during The Goblet Of Fire, about a month after the attack at the quidditch attack*

————————————

You arrive at the platform. Wheeling your trunk with one hand and carrying your bag of books in the other. You take a breath in, you have gone through and back through the platform at least 10 times before, but you hated the feeling of walking through, it made you dizzy and sick, but only for a moment and then you would walk out the other side ready to board the Hogwarts Express. You also remember Neville telling you about a boy named Harry who had once walked straight into the wall, claiming the platform had sealed up. You were still sceptical about this claim, but still, you didn’t want to walk face first into a wall.

With a deep breath in, you look around to make sure there are no Muggles near by and start to jog, your jog turns into running-skip as you mentally prepare to walk straight into a wall, you squeeze your eyes tight as you feel that rollercoaster-type drop in your stomach. When you open your eyes, you are there, surrounded by crowds of people.

You see families waving their goodbyes, but you are alone, like every year, your grandmother always says goodbye outside Kings-Cross but never crossed the platform. “Bad for the skin all that fast travel” she would say, but you felt that wasn’t the reason she wouldn’t cross with you.

You see people staring to pair off in their respective house’s to get a good cabin before they all got too full. “You don’t want to be stuck in a cabin next to that Longbottom boy, or Loonie Lovegood the whole journey” you heard Penelope say one year, although you were quite fond of Neville and Luna and had spent odd journeys with the two of them and genuinely enjoyed their company, after all that’s when you were told about the “boy who lived” walking straight into a wall.

You see the Weasley family, and his mother licking her thumb and wiping the corner of Ronald Weasleys mouth, he looked embarrassed as Harry shot him a hidden laugh. You didn’t know all of the Weasleys but you knew of Ronald, Ginny, the twins of course, and Percy.

You are scoping over the platform, looking for angelica, looking quite nervous as you’re walking closer to the train, and closer to the Twins.

George taps Fred on the chest with the back of his hand and uses his head to motion in your direction.

“Too pretty for you, mate” Fred says jokingly.

You see Angelica and begin walking towards her, waving both your hands in the air, she puts up her hand and waves back. her dark hair is bouncing as she is practically skipping towards you from the other side of the platform, “sorry, oops, sorry! Sorry, ‘scuse me, sorry, thank you!, sorry” she says as she is weaving in and out of the crowds of people.

You are nearly passing the Weasley-clan now, and George is still unknowingly staring straight at you, you look up and find yourself looking straight into his brown eyes, you give him a shy smile and he cheekily gives you a wink, which made you shyly look away and back to Angelica, I suppose she thinks you were smiling so much because you were so happy to see her, which you were, but you were smiling so much because of that damn wink.

She doesn’t even stop to say hi, she just drops her bags onto the floor, and practically throws herself on to you, and into a hug, which makes you drop your bags 

‘’I’m so glad you’re okay!’’ She shouts pulling herself away to cup your face in her hands.

‘‘Why wouldn’t i be...’‘ you respond, feeling very concerned 

‘‘You...you mean you didn’t hear what happened? at the quidditch world cup?’‘ she questioned 

‘‘i’ve not been told a thing..’‘ you said, very dryly 

‘‘we, we will get on the train and i tell you, i’m shocked your Grandmother didn’t tell you anything’‘ she said 

‘‘yeah...me too’‘ you responded.

 Angelica was a little taller than you, and had a thin frame, her dark eyes always looked smokey and sultry, and her dark complexion was simply gorgeous. Sometimes you felt like a child next to her, with you being shorter than her, shorter than most. But despise the fact you two were almost totally different in every way, you always had each others backs, and she never left you for the more popular girls, even though she fitted in more with those girls than you, she still adored you, and wanted it no other way.

“Let’s go find a cabin, before the good ones get taken” she said jokingly with a wink, trying to lighten the mood

“You’re starting to sound like Penelope” you giggled.

You grabbed hold of your heavy bags and hoist them onto the train.

You wheel your bags down the carriage and straight to the back of the train

“Here will do!” She giggles, knowing damn well this is the cabin you usually sit in, because no one else would take it, it was one near the back, it was the shakiest cabin on the train, but the upside was the sweet trolley came to your cabin first.

You step up on the seats as Angelica passed you your trunks to put in the overhead storage, they were too high for you to do stood on the floor, after lifting both your trunks into the storage, you both placed your book bags on the seats next to you, and both you took a seat next to the window, opposite of each other, legs up on each others seats creating a bridge between your seat and hers.

You look out the window and see the back of the Twins, waving their mother goodbye, they then turned, you saw George’s face, thought of that wink, and smiled.

“He’s so hot” Angelica said, talking about Fred

“Yeah he is” you respond, talking about George

Neither of you took in what the other said, you were both too busy looking at the boys.

they were getting on the train and were probably getting ready to start their mini pop up shop of joke sweets and accessories. The boys always started at the opposite end of the train to the “trolley lady” (as Angelica liked to call her). They would start at the top of the train and work their way down, find themselves a cabin and use their earnings to buy themselves sweets off the trolley.

The train let out its first whistle of two. this first was a signal to any (first year) students that are not yet on the train, to wiggle themselves free of their family’s embrace and sloppy kisses and get on to that train. After a few years you learn to turn up early and get a cabin.

The second whistle indicated that you were (about 30 seconds) from setting off.

“I think we will be getting ready to set off soon!” Angelica said excitedly.

The last of the students hurried on to the train and squeezed into full cabins.

“Do anything fun for autumn break, y/n” Angelica asked, genuinely interested.

“Not really, no, muggle school you know, got to keep up with the Muggle studies as well as the Magic ones, you know my grandma” you said rather straight “what about you?” You asked Angelica.

“Oh my break was good y/n! Until what happened at the quidditch world cup’’ she responded hanging her head slightly.

‘‘What happened?’‘ you asked, feeling stupid for not knowing.

She explained the attack, and how the dark lord may be back. ‘’we’ve not seen or heard anything for about a month so i’m assuming they’re deeming Hogwarts safe to be open i guess’’

The second train whistle blew, it was 11am.

“Best get comfy” you said to Angelica, these train rides seemed to get longer the more years you had been at Hogwarts, it felt like home, and you couldn’t wait to go home.

The “trolley lady” usually started her rounds about half an hour into the journey, she liked to give people time to get settled, but more so, get hungry.

“So, did you get to talk to Fr..” you were cut off

“ANNNNNNNNYTHING OFF THE TROLLEY DEARZZZZZ” you hear a deep voice shout.

“That can’t be her” you said checking your watch “it’s not even half past yet”

“ANNNNNNNNYTHING OFF THE TROLLEY…. DEARZZZZ” you hear the voice say again, you open the cabin door and there is Fred and George Weasley, mimicking the trolley lady, with a brief case full of joke items.

You look at the full brief case and back up at George.

“What would you recommend” you ask him

“WELL FOR YOU, DEARRRR” he said still mimicking the trolley lady “HOW ABOUT A LOOOOOOOVE POTION, FIRST OF THE LINE DEARRRR, COME GIVE IT A WHIFF” still using his trolley lady voice.

“What are you trying to say to me, George Weasley, that I can’t find a date?” you joking scold him

“Looks like she’s doing just fine on her own” Fred leans and whispers to George, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

George shoots a “pack it in” look to his brother over his shoulder.

“Give it a whiff then?” George asks again “rumour has it, you smell your favourite thing”

You move close enough to George and you can smell him, he smells like black currant, citrus, dark chocolate, incense, amber, vanilla. He opens up the love potion and you go to take a smell. “Doesn’t smell like anything, must be a dud” you say

“Well, honestly, we didn’t have anyone to test it on, fancy giving it a whirl?” George asks.

“No can do! That is the most dangerous potion in the world!” You joke.

He closes up the brief case “don’t suppose you’ll let us sit in there with you? The rest of the train is packed”

“YEAH, I mean, no worries” Angelica shouted, but then tried to play cool.

You always knew she had a crush on Fred, she just never said anything to him.

Fred took a seat next to Angelica, and George opposite him next to you.

“Good business this year, boys” you ask

“Not really” Fred says

“Looks like people are either holding onto their money a bit tighter, or our products this year are crap” George said, pretending to joke, but you could tell he was a bit bummed about it.

“I’m sure your products aren’t crap” Angelica said reassuringly

“Let’s have one of those love potions then” she says to Fred.

You shoot a wide eyed look at her, a “don’t you dare use that” kind of look.

Fred quickly opens up the briefcase and hands her the love potion for 5 Galleons.

“So, you boys get up to anything good this break?” you ask, mostly directing your question to George

“Well our brothers came to visit, we went to the quidditch World Cup, unfortunately, but mostly Ginny was pestering us to teach her Quidditch, so that was pretty much it” Fred responded, despite your desperate attempts to get George to speak

“ANNNNNNYTHING OFF THE TROLLY DEARS” the Trolley Lady started

You all giggled, thinking of Fred and George’s mimic of her

“I’ll never be able to hear that the same, thanks to you” you said shooting a look at George, he winked at you again, and you melted.

You got up and opened the door, “yes, us please” you say to the trolley lady

“Same as usual?” you turned and asked Angelica

“Please” she smiled

“Two liquorice wands and a Fairy Fizz for Angelica” you say to the Lady

You turn and see Fred and George turning out their pockets, counting their money together

“We don’t have enough, mate” you heard George say and Fred looked disappointed. This hit you in the chest and you just felt so bad for them.

“Two pumpkin pasties … and two Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, two Chocolate Frogs, one Pixie Pop and another Fairy Fizz, please” you asked

“Of course dear!” The lady said as she bagged your sweets and drinks, you handed her the money, grabbed your bag, closed the door and sat back down next to George.

Fred and George were still looking disappointed with their lack of sweets, you reached into the bag, picked up a box of beans and threw it in the air towards Fred to catch, you handed the other box to George and then did the same with the Chocolate Frogs.

You then reached over the cabin and handed Fred the Fairy Fizz drink “my favourite” Fred said

You handed the Pixie Pop drink to George, “MY favourite” George looked at you.

“How did you know this was my favourite” George asked, laughing.

“Well seeing how you both drink them with your Breakfast, Dinner and Lunch I assumed they would be!” You smiled, looking dead into George’s eyes

“You can tell us apart?” George asked

“Of course I can, George” you said softly, putting your hand on his hand that was on his knee, there was a second of silence between the two of you and you looked into each others eyes. This was the first time George felt like his own person and not just “one of the twins” and he liked that the person who could tell them apart, was you.

You both snapped out of it and pulled your gaze away from eachother and moved your hands away.

He reached into his briefcase and handed you a love potion.

“What’s this for?” You asked tilting your head to the side

“Payment, for the sweets” he smiled.

You reached, grazed your hand over his, and took the love potion, knowing you wouldn’t use it, but the gesture was nice as it was the only “girly” thing these boys made, and put it in your pocket.

You spent the rest of the journey trying the different beans, throwing them in the air and catching them in your mouths. Seeing what cards they got in their Frog box. Angelica and Fred started getting closer, whispering to eachother and laughing at their own jokes together, leaving you and George to talk about Classes and what happened at the Quidditch World Cup.

The train was pulling into the station now “this has been fun, George” you said smiling at him

“It sure has, we should do it again some time … if you want” he said, this is the first time he has looked shy

“Is that a date, Mr Weasley?” You said laughing

He went red and laughed along not knowing what to say to that.

The train came to a complete stop, and you got ready to stand back up on the chair to reach your bag, George stood up, towering over you as you were still sat down, something about seeing him looking down at you lit a heat in your stomach and you felt your cheeks going pink.

He reached up in the overhead cabin and pulled your bag down for you

“Blimey y/n, what do you have in this bag, a hippogriff?” He laughed and placed your bag on the floor for you to take.

Angelica grabbed her bag off the overhead locker.

You both grabbed your bookbags and followed Fred and George off the train.

You went to take the small step off the train and George held out his hand for you to stabilise yourself with, you took it, and he winked.

When you got off the train you asked Fred and George “are you coming to the meal?”

“Afraid not y/n” said Fred

“Gonna try and flog a few of these items to the first years before we eat” said george

“okay, Freddie, well, see you ‘round” Angelica said to fred

“Freddie?” George mouthed to you, rolling his eyes and you both laughed. Fred looked very embarrassed at being called this and the fact that you and his brother noticed made it even worse and so he slightly shook his head.

You started to walk up to the boats and turned around to see George watching you walk away “See you around, Georgie” you shouted over to him, mocking Angelica, George smiled and shot you a wink, and you felt that fire again.

——————

When you got to the common room you begin to unpack all your things and when you sat on your bed you felt a clink in your pocket, and you remembered the love potion George gave you, you opened it up and took a smell of it, it smelled like black currant, citrus, dark chocolate, incense, amber, vanilla, it smelled of George. And then it hit you, you couldn’t smell the love potion because you were standing right next to him, and they smelled the same. You felt bad for calling his product a “dud”. But smiled at the smell of it. You spent the next few at nights before bed taking a smell of it, you knew you had to tell him.

[smmahamazing]

Rounding out your Valentine’s Day with one last fic for the @inudayoflove2021 !!!

Summary: It’s White Day. Inuyasha and Kagome have been dating for a month, and Inuyasha has planned a nice evening for the two of them. Except Inuyasha has something a little sweet prepared for Kagome in hopes of getting a little steamy with her. What happens when Kagome has a similar idea? Set in the Cowboy Blues Universe. Rated E for smut.

Let me tell you, this chapter has truly taken it out of me. This is my first foray into writing smut, and y’all that is hard. But in the end, it’s been worth all the trouble in the world. Next month exactly will be ONE YEAR since I started writing. And that’s kind of crazy to me. I have six posted stories with an entire google drive of wips that scream at me day in and day out LOL. All because of a little White Day one shot that grew into a 23k story, with another 8k of one-shots, all set in the same universe. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than with Inukag’s first time! Thank you so much to @clementinesgulag , who has also drawn a very sweet 😏😏😏piece of artwork for this chapter, and I’m so excited for y’all to see it!!! If you haven’t already, check out all the different fics with the Day of Love Collection on AO3!

Anyways, I’m dedicating this chapter to all you guys out there. This fandom has been an amazing part of my life this past year, and I’m so happy to be involved with such a great group of people. This past year has been crazy, but you guys have been worth it. I hope you all enjoy!!!

A special shoutout to @underwater0phelia for helping me with a few trouble sections! You're the greatest darling❤❤❤

Inuyasha loved routine. More specifically, he loved routine whenever his brain started to think too much about certain subjects.

Today was Mr. Tanaka's quarterly oil change. Mr. Tanaka had been a loyal customer dating back to the first week he had officially opened his doors for business. He told Inuyasha that he reminded him of a younger version of himself, and that he was happy to see a young man such as himself take a risk into opening his own business. Mr. Tanaka's kind words had really helped motivate Inuyasha through the good times and the bad times that first year, and so to thank him, Inuyasha gave the older gentleman a fair discount on any and all services, and let no one else service the vehicle.

Over the years, Inuyasha gained enough employees that he really didn't need to service any of the vehicles that came into the shop. He dealt with enough paperwork and general bureaucratic shit that, most days, he willingly let the boys take care of the line up.

But days like today were nice. Fantastic, really. Loud, heavy alternative rock blared through the speakers of a giant stereo as Inuyasha made quick work of the tiny honda. It was easy for Inuyasha to get all wrapped up in the monotony of his work. Today, Inuyasha had been more anxious than usual, so he decided to go ahead and perform a full diagnostic package on Mr. Tanaka's car. The extra work would help keep Inuyasha's mind focused.

The problem was that White Day was next week, and Inuyasha had absolutely no idea what to get Kagome. They had only been dating for about a month and Inuyasha was struggling with the decision of how grand of a gesture he wanted to make.

When he was growing up, the giving norm was usually either chocolate or candy, and sometimes flowers depending on the relationship of the giver towards the recipient. Given the short amount of time they had been together, chocolate seemed like a good direction to head towards, but Inuyasha had been overanalyzing the entire situation for several days now.

The main reason for his anxiety came from his already deep feelings for a girl he's only known for a month. Inuyasha truly enjoyed talking to and spending time with Kagome. They were constantly texting each other; asking a variety of questions about their lives and the things that they thought defined them. Random pictures broke up the mass of their text bubbles. Kagome had been given leeway from her boss to experiment with all different kinds of cakes, so practically everyday was an image of a new cake, decorated all cutesy for the romantic holiday.

The rational part of his brain told him to just get her a nice box of chocolates and flowers and enjoy a nice evening together. But Kagome deserved more effort than just purchasing a random box of chocolates. An ideal gift would be to make her something - she seemed like the type of girl to love homemade gifts - but to Inuyasha, the idea was….daunting, and a little embarrassing. Inuyasha knew enough about cooking and baking to just get him by, but he didn’t feel confident enough to make something for a woman whose career was based on cooking and baking. Not like Kagome would laugh at him or make fun of anything he made, but it was an insecurity Inuyasha couldn't seem to shake when put in front of his professional girlfriend.

It didn't help that the irrational part of his brain wanted to give her something more than just chocolate.

Despite being together for about a month, they hadn't had sex yet. Not because neither of them didn't want to, they just …never brought the subject up. The more they talked, the more Inuyasha began to realize how much he liked her, and he didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize the easy going relationship they had now.

In reality, he just didn't want to scare her off by demanding sex. Nor did he want to demand sex from her, he just wanted things to happen naturally. Before he knew it, a month had flown by.

Several hours passed before Inuyasha finally decided he couldn’t keep Mr. Tanaka's car in the shop any longer. He dragged his feet to the hand washing sink, taking his time to scrub the grease from his hands and the dirt off his forearms. 

Mr. Tanaka always came first thing in the morning before most people were functioning enough to stop by, so the waiting room had several more people in it then when he started working on the car.

"Mr. Tanaka," Inuyasha announced, grabbing a free computer at the front desk to pull up the service information. Mr. Tanaka stood with a smile on his face and walked up to him.

"She's all good I assume?"

"Yup, fit as a fiddle. Gave her a good once over, which is why it took a little longer than normal. On the house."

"Ahh, Inuyasha my boy, you're too good to me."

Inuyasha chuckled as the computer calculated the total, and he prompted Mr. Tanaka to insert his credit card into the card reader.

"So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?" Inuyasha asked. 

"Oh, I'm going to spend the afternoon with the grandchildren, maybe go out for a stroll and a banana split at the nice ice cream joint not far from my house. How about yourself?"

"Just take out for me and my girl tonight, nothing exciting,"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, " Mr. Tanaka said with a glint in his eyes.  "Every evening with your woman is special. "

Inuyasha snorted at his statement, grabbing the receipt that just finished printing and giving it to the older man. "Alright old man, I'll see you in another three months."

"Alright then, Inuyasha. Don't work too hard now!" Mr. Tanaka says with a sly look on his face. Inuyasha merely rolled his eyes at the joke the older gentleman made every time he brought his car in. Inuyasha always thought him a strange man; despite doing good business, not everyone wanted to stay and chat with a hanyou, but Inuyasha tried not to think about it too much. If his mother was alive, she'd say something about how "people can always surprise you" or "there's still good in the world, Inuyasha". He tried to think about those theoretical statements when he was faced with an actual nice person.

With Mr. Tanaka's car finished, Inuyasha walked back out to the garage to finish cleaning up his station. There was some paperwork to be done, but he was hoping today would be busy enough to justify him working on the floor instead.

'Maybe a little snack first,' Inuyasha thought as he held his hand up to his rumbling stomach. Now the only question was, sweet or savory? Mr. Tanaka and his grandkids were still on the edge of his brain, thinking maybe Kagome would be up for getting a carton of rocky road tonight to share.

That was when the idea hit him. It came in small bursts, just split second images his brain conjured up to give him an idea of what it would look like. It was something Inuyasha had never done before. Kikyo kept their sex life pretty...vanilla. Not that this idea was all that out there, but the whole thing would definitely feel a little odd to someone who really only used the missionary position in his last relationship.

It was definitely something Inuyasha would probably like - just the thought of it was already starting to wake up his lower brain - but would Kagome? Would she misconstrue the situation somehow? Would she be into that kind of thing?

One thing was for certain; Inuyasha needed to continue this line of thought in his private office, not amongst all his employees. He found his assistant manager and confirmed their current appointments for the next several hours before locking himself in the office to come up with ways to make this little "idea" of his work.

~~~

It was just starting to get dark when Kagome pulled up to her normal spot at Inuyasha's apartment. She killed the engine as soon as she put the car in park, but didn't make a move yet to open the door and make her way over to his apartment. This way, Kagome wouldn't be able to chicken out or drive away. Eventually, the cooler air outside would make its way in and lower the temperature in the car, prompting her that her time to sit around has come to an end. 

Kagome didn't even know what she was so nervous about anyway. It was going to be just another date night with Inuyasha, perfectly normal and entertaining.

‘Oh yeah, because showing up at your boyfriend’’s house in nothing but lingerie is definitely normal,’ Kagome thought, shifting around in her seat a little and making herself much more aware of exactly what she was wearing and why.

She had been dating Inuyasha for just about a month now, and they had yet to “do the deed”. Which, if she was honest, Kagome wasn’t sure if that was odd or normal for a relationship. Her past relationships had been so varied, ranging from sex on the first date to no sex at all, or even pretty much only sex with little to no substance.

Kagome didn’t think it was because he didn’t want to. They had been texting back and forth practically everyday since their first date at that ramen shop. Inuyasha even made it a point to come to the diner for lunch just so they could see each other - which totally didn’t make her heart flutter, no siree. They just hadn’t really had the...opportunity to express their interest for each other in that way yet.

The plan for tonight was to just have a simple dinner at Inuyasha’s, and maybe pop in a movie during dessert. Very relaxed and extremely intimate. It was actually Kagome’s idea of a perfect date. Sure, going out to eat together is always nice, and spending the day out and about can create a lot of great memories, but she craved the closeness one could get when you were comfortable in your own home.

Kagome had some slight alterations to go with their evening plans  It was simple: walk inside, seduce her hot boyfriend, and fuck him into next week. She still wasn’t sure where dinner and a movie fell between it all; she was just going to have to wing it. Earlier in the week, Kagome had made a stop at the mall and purchased a most alluring piece of lingerie.

It was a fairly simple garment, which was good because Kagome couldn’t even begin to wonder how she’d get into some of the lingerie she looked at. She was pretty sure some of them could double as their own sex toys. In the end, she chose two different colors of a two piece bra and panty set - one in red, which she was currently wearing, and one in green, her favorite color. It was made from a soft silk with floral lace borders around the edges of the cup of the bra and the elastic of the panties. Overall, it was a very comfortable fit, which is what greatly prompted Kagome to purchase two.

However, the real stars of the show were the crotchless panties and the cupless bra.

Despite its simplicity, it was the raunchiest piece of lingerie that Kagome had ever purchased.

It was still chilly outside, requiring her to wear her purple peacoat to and from the car, but the only other piece of clothing Kagome wore was a random slip dress she found buried deep in one of her dresser drawers. She was actually pretty sure it was meant to go over your bathing suit when visiting the local swimming pool or beach, but with only three buttons and a waist tie, the garment was perfect for easy removal. She rounded out the whole outfit with the most expensive pair of black stiletto heels she owned, and hoped that Inuyasha didn't question its...quirkiness.

Well, she was wearing an old pair of boyshorts over the crotchless panties, but Kagome just felt too awkward driving without a proper pair of underwear on.

'Alright Kagome, time to get your butt in gear,' she thought, giving her cheeks a few good slaps to motivate her. With a deep inhale, she carefully shimmied out of the boyshorts and tossed them into the backseat before grabbing her purse and stepping out of the car to walk towards Inuyasha's apartment.

She knocked on the door, running her hands through her hair to fix any errant strands the wind may have moved. After about thirty seconds, she could hear Inuyasha's muffled reply to ‘come on in’, like he was on the opposite side of the apartment. It was unusual of him - he never failed to greet her at the door the few times she had been over - but she reminded herself they had only been dating for a month. Plus, he was probably still getting things ready. No big deal.

He must have anticipated not being quite ready for her arrival, seeing as the door was already unlocked. She quickly stepped in and locked the door behind her, taking off her coat and hanging it, along with her purse, on one of the hooks beside the door. She forewent taking her shoes off though, since they were a part of the whole 'fuck me' look she was attempting to pull off.

Looking into the living room, there were a few extra blankets and pillows stacked on the ottoman, but nothing looked particularly different. The apartment was always pretty clean due to Inuyasha's sensitive nose - he had a hard time dealing with dust - although it looked like he did a quick wipe down throughout the room not that long ago.

Inuyasha didn't have a space set up for a dining table since he normally ate by himself , but he had taken the time to set up a couple of placemats for them at the bar that separated the kitchen and living room. Each spot had its own dinner plate, salad bowl, utensils, and wine glass all ready to be filled. Placed on either side of them and in front of them were three long candlesticks in their own respective holder.

The whole scene put a soft smile on her face as she tenderly touched each piece. She had yet to see Inuyasha, but tonight was already turning out to be the perfect date. It was obvious to see the work he put into making this dinner special for them. The plates looked like they came from his own cupboard, but she was pretty sure he went out to buy candles to set the mood.

Kagome was beginning to get a little anxious to find Inuyasha, but the smells coming from the kitchen were strong enough to tear her away from her search. There were a couple of pots on the stove over a low flame. Nothing smelled like it was burning, but what kind of cook would Kagome be if she didn't take a quick peek at some unattended pots?

That's what she told herself, anyways, as she slowly lifted the lid to the pot on the right hand burner. The pleasant aroma of tomatoes and garlic filled the immediate area, and Kagome inhaled it deeply. Inside the pot was what looked to be meatballs, simmering in a homemade tomato sauce. Kagome took hold of the spoon being used to stir the sauce and snuck a quick taste.

She closed her eyes, groaning slightly in satisfaction. The sauce was tangy and savory, a hint of sweetness found in the aftertaste. Kagome might have been the professional chef between them, but Inuyasha never gave himself enough credit when it came to his own cooking. Growing up as a hanyou, he always had to be careful with foods that could possibly be too spicy or over seasoned, and he learned that it was sometimes better to just cook your own food.

Not to mention the fact that there were few things more attractive than your boyfriend cooking a meal for you.

Kagome set the lid back on the pot to go looking for the hanyou in question. She hadn't seen Inuyasha since she came in, and a quick peek behind the balcony curtains told her he wasn't outside either, which left the bathroom and bedroom.

There were three doors down in the back hallway. The first door on the left - which was left open and clearly empty - was the bathroom, with a small storage closet directly across from it. Kagome walked right past both doors in favor of the closed bedroom door; the storage closet was small and cramped, not big enough to fit even the small built Kagome inside with the door closed, and so, inconsequential to Kagome's mind.

She stood in front of the bedroom door, suddenly nervous now that the sight of cooked food couldn't distract her. She still had no idea how tonight was going to pan out, or how Inuyasha would react to her advances. Kagome took another deep breath to relax her shoulders, making herself stand just a little bit taller. 

She was a Higurashi after all, dammit! Known for their stubbornness and determination, there was no obstacle they couldn't climb. In fact, there was nothing for her to be nervous about at all. She was an attractive woman, he was an attractive man. This was just the natural next step that many people took in their relationships, and damn it all, she was gonna seduce the hell out of him.

Yet, she wasn't expecting the sight that laid before her as she opened the door. At all.

Her breath hitched as wide eyes landed on Inuyasha sprawled out on the bed.

Completely naked.

Well, was he considered completely naked if his dick was just barely covered? It was an errant thought that crossed her mind, despite how unnecessary it was at the moment.

Kagome didn't think she'd ever seen a sight as glorious as Inuyasha, propped up by a couple of pillows, one arm bent behind his head, the other laying across his stomach. She had yet to see Inuyasha without a shirt on, and found she couldn't tear her eyes away from the bulging muscles in his arms, or the rippling six-pack he sported. He looked like he could have been carved by Michaelangelo himself, an Adonis covered in whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and caramel, topped with a bright red maraschino cherry on top.

Kagome was sure she was about to develop a sweet tooth of her own.

She took a quick second to notice the overall look of the room. He had the same long stemmed candles placed strategically around the room, offering the only source of light. Beside him on the bedside table was all the fixings - the chocolate sauce, caramel, whipped cream, even a jar of strawberry jam.

'Oh my God, is this what he meant by having banana splits for dessert?' she thought, remembering the text conversation they had as she was getting ready earlier. Inuyasha hadn't told her what he was making for dinner, but he had asked her if she liked banana splits. Which she had replied to him that of course she did, who didn't?

Well, one thing for sure was that she'd never look at a banana split the same way again.

Neither of them knew how long she had been standing there for, but Inuyasha was getting more nervous by the second. She hadn't said anything when she entered the room, just stood there staring at him with this weird look in her eyes.

The last five minutes had been stressful for him, to say the least. Inuyasha hadn't wanted to put the whipped cream on too soon and have it start melting on him, so he waited until he could hear her soft knocking at the front door before getting himself all set up.

He had no idea how long it would take Kagome to make her way to the bedroom. She was far too curious for her own good to just sit out there waiting for him, but how many things would distract her on her way to the bedroom was the real question. Still, as soon as he heard the front door close, he got to work, covering his very erect penis with the whipped cream - just the thought of what her mouth would be doing to him soon was enough to get him going - and using deft hands to flourish it with the chocolate and caramel. He saved the cherry for the moment right before she opened the door, not wanting it to slide off and ruin the masterpiece he had concocted.

Surprisingly, he wasn't all that nervous as he was getting ready. It was when she finally came in and just stared that set his nerves on fire. What was she thinking? Did she like the view or was she trying to figure out how to get out of the situation entirely? He didn't really know what her scent smelled of when she was aroused, so he felt like he was walking into the fire blind.

He couldn't take it anymore. The silence was killing him, he was sure of it. He didn't know what he was going to say to her, but anything was better than nothing.

"Kagome,"

Hearing her name must have startled her from her own thoughts. She looked at him now - really looked at him - and what he saw in her eyes was pure determination.

Inuyasha didn't think he had ever been so terrified in his life. It was at this moment he realized that he really didn't know all that much about Kagome. Sure, they had been talking back and forth, constantly texting about their favorite movies or the places they like to frequent or comparing allergies, but that was just the small stuff. He had no idea what this look in her eyes meant.

And then, she showed him.

If he was worried about what she thought about his "gift" to her, her next actions put those thoughts to bed.

She slowly unbuttoned the dress she was wearing, sensually untying the waist tie until it opened and floated to the floor, bearing herself to him.

Inuyasha had to stifle the urge to whine. He had never seen a sight as alluring as Kagome, standing before him with her hair down over her shoulders in a bright red lingerie set. This wasn't like any lingerie set Inuyasha had ever seen. The cups to the bra covered the tops of her breasts more than most bras might, but he had a clear view of her dusky pink nipples poking through a set of holes in each cup.

The candlelight put the most tantalizing shadows against the muscles in her arms down to her toned calves, which was exaggerated even more by the black high heels she wore. And as his eyes wandered up and down her body, he was pretty sure they were crotchless, judging by the shape of the panties.

His first thought was that she looked like a snack, but he'd be lying - she was a whole goddamn meal.

"Is this for me?" she asked, walking up to the end of the bed, jutting her hips out with each step.

It sort of felt like an out of body experience, like she had control of her body but also not at the same time? Every step to the bed was fueled by a slowly rising arousal. Her mouth was beginning to water; she hadn't expected to do dessert before dinner, but she supposed she could break the rules just this once. After all, it would be rude to not immediately accept this most generous...gift.

"Ye - yeah," Inuyasha answered, trying to sound suave instead of like some virginal teenager. He wasn't so sure he was succeeding, but Kagome didn't seem to mind as she continued to get closer to him, bending down to lean her hands against the bed, giving him a fantastic view of her chest.

He couldn't control the twitch in his cock as she began to fully lift herself onto the bed. Kagome didn't miss it either, giving him a devilish smirk as she crawled her way to him. It made him feel like prey being stalked by a predator, which was a weird change in his bedroom dynamics. He had always been the more dominant party when he was with Kikyo, but he was finding that he didn't mind the change all that much.

Not when a beautiful woman like Kagome was looking like she was going to devour him.

And that was exactly what she planned to do.

Kagome gingerly put her hands on his calves, causing Inuyasha to take in a sharp inhale. He hadn't been expecting her touch, and it made him take in a sharp inhale. He expected her to dive straight in, but she leaned over to the right side of the bed instead, bringing her bare nipples dangerously close to his face. 

Inuyasha turned his head away slightly and closed his eyes, not sure if he could stand to look at her much longer before losing his patience and having his way with her. The bed shifted back to normal a second later, and Inuyasha opened his eyes to find she had grabbed the chocolate sauce and the jar of caramel.

Kagome desperately wanted a taste of him, but she also wanted to make this whole experience last. She wanted to tease and torture him until he couldn't take it anymore and took her instead.

"Do you mind getting a little sticky?"

Inuyasha's eyes started to darken as her plans for him slowly became clear. So she wanted to tease him a little, huh? That was fine by him. He was sure he'd let her do whatever she wanted.

"I'm your blank canvas Kagome,"

'Smooth'

Inuyasha watched her face flush at his words and he subconsciously opened his chest up in pride at being the one to cause it. She looked so cute flustered, and he couldn't wait to see it again when she was underneath him.

Kagome took his words to heart and opened the top to the chocolate sauce. Moving over to his left side for a better angle, she started at his face, taking the bottle and carefully squeezing it over his skin - over his lips, on the apple of his cheeks, on his nose, sculpting the jaw.

And then she started moving downward, dotting all down his neck, not wanting it to run too much given the angle. When she reached his chest, she began drawing intricate lace designs over his pecs. Inuyasha could see the absolute focus in her eyes as she drew, almost as if she had done this before. She worked in a restaurant, and Inuyasha was pretty sure he remembered her saying she even did some baking, so she most likely had done this before. On a cake at least.

When she was done with the chocolate, she grabbed the jar of caramel and began painting him with that as well. Inuyasha had taken the honey dipper from his mother's old honey jar to make it easier to decorate with, and Kagome used it to accent the major chocolate work on his skin. She took extra care covering his nipples and belly button.

Kagome was about to get to work when she looked up and realized she had forgotten to take the strawberry jam. She went all out on covering his chest, so that was a no go. She scrunched her face up a little, thinking about what she could do with it, when suddenly the idea hit her.

"Hand me the strawberry jam?" she asked, innocently batting her eyelashes at him.

He did as she asked, going as far as opening the jar before handing it to her. She tossed him a sweet smile before taking hold of his left hand and dipping each finger into the jam. She gestured for him to take the jar back, watching him grab it with his free hand. She wanted until right before the jar was going to hit the table, and took his thumb into her mouth.

Just as she thought would happen, the jar clattered onto the table, the strange sensation of Kagome sucking on his fingers taking away all brain functions.

Inuyasha had never had someone suck on his fingers before, and if you had asked him prior to tonight if that was something he'd be into, Inuyasha would have probably answered with a scrunched face and a "hard no". Now though? He could see the pros.

She thoroughly cleaned his fingers, wrapping her tongue languidly around each digit and sucking hard enough to feel the blood flow temporarily stop. Inuyasha couldn't keep in the low moan as he imagined her using that tongue in the same way on his cock.

She gave him a break by starting with the chocolate on his face next. She pressed the flat of her tongue against each cheek, using the tip to sensually lick the chocolate off his nose and along his jaw, ending her explorations of his face with a sweet kiss. It was slow and wistful, sweet from of the chocolate.

Inuyasha parted his mouth to let her tongue in when she began licking across the seam. He used his right hand to thread through her hair, deepening the kiss. Gods, did she taste absolutely fucking divine, like chocolate covered cherries. 

Far too soon, she pulled away from him, nipping his bottom lip for attempting to pull her back in. Kagome used her own hand to run through his hair, tipping his head back enough so she could run her tongue up and down the skin, licking up all the chocolate dots she had placed there.

Her tongue was so warm, and soft. It left him in a daze as she moved lower to tackle his chest. From the way she licked, starting from one side to the other and slowly making her way south, she must have drawn an elaborate maze. Her tongue deftly moved with precision; she knew exactly where to go.

Inuyasha moaned, his eyes half mast in pleasure, as Kagome sucked at his nipples. She took her time there, giving each one an equal amount of attention, erasing all signs of the caramel that covered them before moving on.

It was the most pleasurable torture Inuyasha had ever endured. She was getting closer and closer to the whipped cream tower that covered him, but it was obvious that Kagome was going to savor the taste of him before digging in. No amount of skin was forgotten as she traced lines of fire down his chest, dipping her tongue into his caramel filled belly button. Sometime during her travels downward, Inuyasha had grabbed a hold of her hair, helping keep it pinned back so she didn't get any chocolate or whipped cream in it. It was also an exercise in control, being careful that he didn't pull her hair too hard to cause her any pain.

Truth be told, Kagome was excited to get to the whipped cream portion of her dessert hanyou, although not entirely for what lay underneath. She had been eyeing that cherry since she walked in on him. It was the best part of a dessert after all. 

She licked a line from the base of the tower to the tip, careful to not get too close to the skin of his shaft, picking up the cherry with the tip of her tongue and placing it between her teeth with the stem pointing out toward Inuyasha. Her gut reaction was to bite into the cherry and satiate her desire for the small fruit, but looking up at Inuyasha she had a better idea.

Leaning in towards him, she stuck out the stem towards his lips, offering him one last taste of her before she finally got a taste of him. Inuyasha greedily took the stem in his mouth, moving his lips generously over hers as she bit into the cherry, sharing the juice between the two of them for a moment before pulling apart.

Inuyasha wished he knew how to tie cherry stems with his tongue. He wanted to show her just what he could do with that tongue of his. Instead, he spit it out over the edge of the bed, far more concerned with what Kagome was about to do next.

Kagome had already moved to nestle herself between his legs, laying on her chest with her legs propped up at the knees, ankles crossed. Every time Kagome moved to another position, Inuyasha didn't think she could get any sexier, only to be proven wrong just a moment later. She gave him one last sultry look, placing her hands on his thighs to gently massage them, before taking the flat of her tongue from the base of his balls to the tip of his dick, all the way down to the skin.

Inuyasha pulled a low growl from deep in his chest at the feel of her tongue running up and down his hardened length. She felt even more amazing than he imagined she would, and he wasn't sure whether it was because he had been dry for so long or because Kagome just had a lot of practice.

They had been honest with each other from the beginning about their past sexual experiences. While Inuyasha wasn't a stranger to the act, Kagome had been with far more partners than himself, and with the way she licked his dick like her favourite ice cream cone was proof of that. Gods, when was the last time he received a blowjob anyways? Not since Kikyo, and that was years ago.

He played with the idea of threading his hand through her hair again, wanting to constantly be touching her, to feel her shiver as his claws lightly grazed her scalp. But as she finished licking off all the whipped cream, she fully engulfed his dick in her mouth, relaxing her jaw to fit as much of him in as she could. Inuyasha put holes into the bedsheets from gripping them so hard, and he was grateful he had stayed his hand from her head.

Inuyasha's head was spinning at the wet sounds of Kagome's mouth salivating around his dick. He didn't know how much more of this he could take before blowing his load early, and he much rather preferred the thought of cumming inside her undoubtedly wet pussy instead of her mouth.

"K-Kagome,"

She didn't slow down, didn't even look up at him as the hand that was squeezing towards the base tightened and the movements of her mouth went a little faster and deeper.

"Nng….Kags…."

Kagome could feel his balls tighten and knew he couldn't hold it much longer. The act of licking food off Inuyasha's body aroused her far more than she would have expected, and there was one aspect of the "banana split" that Inuyasha was missing: the garnish of chopped nuts. The chocolate and caramel she poured all over him and the whipped cream left her with a wonderfully sweet taste in her mouth, but she wanted to know how the salty taste of his cum would mix with it.

She ran a finger from her other hand along his perineum and moaned as she gave him one last hard suck. The vibrations from the skin to skin contact of her lips caused Inuyasha to let out a pitched whine as he filled her mouth with his cum. She held him fast in her mouth, keeping some controlled movement of her hand on his shaft as she swallowed every last drop of him.

Salty and sweet. Kagome was sure this was the ultimate way to give a blowjob, and she hoped by the panting she could hear from Inuyasha that he'd let her do it again sometime.

After cleaning up every last drop of his cum, she gave one last, chaste kiss to the tip of his cock and started lifting herself up by the arms when she was suddenly grabbed by the forearms and hauled up towards his face. He smashed his lips against her, clinking their teeth together as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, groaning at the taste of himself on her. He wanted to tell her how much he enjoyed what she gave him, but words seemed immaterial and not enough, so he decided to show her instead.

In fact, he loved it so much, he knew he had to return the favor. Besides, Kagome got to have her fun, so it was only fair that Inuyasha should as well.

He wrapped his arms around Kagome and flipped them so he was top, not once severing their connection at the lips. Kagome didn't seem to mind the change as her hands roamed his body, tracing the muscles up his arms and in his shoulders. When the need for air became too great, Inuyasha moved down to line open mouthed kisses to the pulsepoint in her neck, nipping the jaw on his way there.

It took a considerable amount of restraint to not move himself even lower. She looked absolutely delectable laying under him, her nipples already pebbled and hard from her aroused state. She had a soft expression in her eyes, but there was still a light held in there that waited for Inuyasha's next move.

Just as she had done, he reached over her to grab the chocolate sauce and caramel and carefully spread it all over the tops of her breasts and stomach, saving the caramel for her exposed nipples. It was not nearly as intricate as Kagome's designs had been; despite his desire to give back the love she gave him, he was slowly becoming impatient. It had been so long since he made love to a woman, and the imagined feeling of her warm heat clutching him as he pumped into her made him grow harder by the second.

He also didn't have nearly as much space as she did. Inuyasha didn't want to get chocolate syrup on her lingerie, which he guessed probably cost a good deal.

Inuyasha set the toppings down on the nightstand, bringing his nose to the silk material of her bra and gently rubbed his nose against it. The silk was so soft against his skin and smelled strongly of her natural scent, intoxicating him.

His original plan was to slowly work his way down her body, but he couldn't fight the instinct to lay his tongue flat against her right nipple, licking up all the caramel in one swoop. Her body twitched, not quite anticipating his touch there yet, and she let out a sharp gasp as he curled his tongue around her nipple and completely enveloped it into his mouth.

Kagome's body was already beginning to tremble, not used to the feeling of someone's hot breath against her skin. She arched her chest upwards towards his face, desperate to keep that connection intact. Every lick and suck was sending jolts of pleasure down to her core, setting her body ablaze in passion. When he started nibbling with his teeth, Kagome trailed her hands up around his head, gently grasping the base of his ears and massaging them.

Inuyasha growled at the sensation, her soft touch sending shivers down his spine. Despite how good it felt, Inuyasha let her nipple go with a loud pop! and with almost lightening speed, grabbed her wrists and trapped them together above her head. This time was for Kagome; Inuyasha was determined to make her feel just as good as he did - if not more - and currently, that didn't include him. Not in the same way.

Until he could bury himself in her, the only thing he wanted from her was to hear her moaning in pleasure.

"Ah ah, no touching yet baby," he told her, keeping himself lifted off her just enough to take her in. Kagome moaned at the absence of his lips, arching her back just a little bit more to tempt him to come back for more. Inuyasha wished he could keep her in this position. He loved the way her chest opened up to him from this angle, but he fully planned on giving both nipples this undivided attention. Unfortunately he couldn't grow a third arm.

"Tell you what," he said, placing open mouth kisses down her neck. "If you can keep your hands up here, I'll make it worth your while,"

Kagome rolled her hands into fists, trying her hardest to break free as he gently pulled on her earlobe, snaking his tongue up the sides. She wasn't sure she could keep still while he lapped at her skin. She wanted something to do with her hands, and his ears were a perfect distraction.

But he was giving her a challenge, and Kagome had no plans to back down anytime soon.

"Then show me what you got," she replied, relaxing her hands and lowered her body back down into the bed.

Inuyasha released her wrists slowly, making sure they stayed where he put them. His hand slowly lowered down, caressing her cheek and trailing a line down her neck straight to her breast. He cupped the underside of her left breast, lifting it right to his mouth.

Kagome sighed as his other hand came up to the other breast, pulling and twisting the nipple. She managed to keep her wrists where they were, but couldn't help flexing her hands. 

When he was convinced her breasts had been worshipped long enough, he slowly worked his way down her body, licking the chocolate off as he went. Her skin was soft, arguably softer than even the lingerie she wore. Inuyasha had to control himself from marking her all over her stomach, settling for quick nips that only turned the skin red for a few moments.

Inuyasha couldn't wait any longer. He was so close to getting to taste her, and he was salivating at the prospect. Her belly button was the last place he focused on - swirling his tongue around it - before gripping her left thigh in his hand and lifting it so it sat on his shoulder. He used his other hand to spread her right leg, opening herself up to him fully.

Without thinking about it, he brought his nose against her dark curls and inhaled, letting out a deep groan. She smelled absolutely exquisite, a spicy scent reminiscent of ginger surrounding him. The image of her panting underneath him, pussy already glistening from how wet she was for him, was more perfect than he could have ever imagined.

He dove in, licking a long swipe from slit to clit. She was sweet and salty at the same time, something uniquely Kagome, and he’d never get enough. He worked his tongue in overtime, starting at the ever quickly hardening nub. He flicked his tongue back and forth, bracing his hands against her thighs as she twitched with each flick, before moving down a little lower. He used his right hand to gently push apart her folds, each swipe of the tongue imitating a soft caress to her sensitive nerves.

Kagome moaned at the feeling, jolts of pleasure shooting through her body like electricity. She had given up on his challenge, moving her hands down from above her head and threading her fingers through his hair, gently scraping his scalp with her nails.

She could feel her eyes roll towards the back of her head as he plunged his tongue inside her. There was something about receiving oral that just sent her over the edge. The feel of his tongue swirling inside her, hitting her innermost walls as she tried to keep him in, had her gasping and squirming.

Despite the overwhelming feeling, she made sure to keep her hands clear of his ears, not wanting to accidentally pull or pinch them. She tried lifting her pelvis off the bed, but her trembling body was no match for the pure strength of his arms as he held her down. Instead, she pushed his head further forward, making his nose bump her clit, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.

Inuyasha had to grind his pelvis into the bed to find a bit of relief from the sensory overload. He was drunk on the taste of her, but his impatience was beginning to get the best of him. He wanted to know how she felt wrapped around his dick, sucking him in and milking him dry.

He relished in the small whines Kagome made as he nuzzled his nose against her nub. He could feel her legs begin to shake as he slowly made his way upward, taking his time to generously lick around her folds before turning his tongue's attention to her swollen pearl.

It felt like the breath was being squeezed from Kagome's chest. Every inhale was followed by a shallow, barely present exhale. His tongue was working in overdrive. Every flick, every swirl had her entire body trembling under the force of her well awaited orgasm just starting to break over the horizon.

Inuyasha, in an effort to end their collective misery, took her swollen nub between his lips and sucked, letting out a contented growl, the vibrations finally sending her over the edge. Kagome let out an almost shrill whine and arched her back, her thighs tense with the desire to capture Inuyasha's head between them. Her eyes clouded, unable to focus on anything but the explosive orgasm running throughout body.

Inuyasha stayed right where he was, lapping up every drop of her essence that spilled from her. His ears stood at attention as he listened to her mewling, a soft rumbling spreading throughout his chest at the thought that he made her feel this way. 

Inuyasha kept at her folds, slowly licking her clean, until the tremors stopped racing through her body. He pushed himself up so he could get a better image of the woman under him. Her face was flushed red, small tendrils of hair already beginning to stick to her neck, and her chest was heaving, taking in large gulps of air. When her breath was starting to go back to normal, she finally focused her gaze on Inuyasha, eyes filled with lust.

Inuyasha found it difficult to keep her strong gaze, his confidence from before slowly wavering now that there was nothing to distract either of them. Inuyasha wiped his chin on his upper arm, suddenly embarrassed about the mess he had made despite his best attempt at licking her clean.

Kagome let out a short puff of air, not wanting to fully chuckle at the man on top of her. She wasn't trying to laugh at him, he just looked so adorable. His eyes tried not to land on her face, but he didn't shy away from running them up and down her body. He was looking at her with what Kagome could only describe as reverence, yet just a tinge of uncertainty lingered.

Kagome leaned up, tugging one of his forelocks gently to bring his face to hers so they could share a kiss. It was slow and determined all at the same time; Kagome tried to pour her heart into it, to try and let him know that it was okay. They were okay, and Kagome wanted nothing more than to be with him like this for the rest of the night.

Kagome could taste herself on his tongue, and it only helped fuel the fire that had settled slightly after her body wracking orgasm. She wound her hands behind his neck, grazing the back of his neck with her fingernails, causing a deep groan to emit from Inuyasha's chest.

"Inuyasha, I want you," Kagome purred, running a finger lightly over the outlines of his ears while the other hand ran lines up and down his chest.

"Kagome…"

Inuyasha tried to keep his actions calm and smooth - leaning over to the bedside table to grab a condom from the drawer - a feat that proved to be difficult as Kagome continued to run her hands across whatever body part of his she could reach. His hands shook as he slowly rolled it onto his dick. When he was ready, he lowered himself down to lay on top of her, being careful not to put his weight on her, and instead into his arms that framed her face. She opened herself up to him, allowing him to nestle his stiff erection in between her legs.

"Kagome," he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her skin, starting from one cheek to the next. "Are you sure?"

Kagome brought her lips up against his one more time, teasing him with her tongue, swiping it along his lips, lightly caressing his own tongue in the process. She gently nipped his bottom lip when pulling back for air. She leaned up towards the top of his head, her breath ghosting the fine hairs of his ears.

"Take me, Inuyasha,"

Inuyasha had never heard words so sweet.

He slowly sank into her, nearly wincing at the pressure he felt. God she was tight! Already her walls were clenching and pulsing around his cock, her warmth seeping into him all the way up to his chest. Kagome moaned when Inuyasha was buried in her as far as he could be, basking in the fullness of having him inside her. For a minute, neither of them moved, each of them getting used to being so intimately joined.

Inuyasha kissed all along her jaw and neck - internally rejoicing when Kagome tilted her head back enough to bare more of her neck to him, a sign of submission to an Inu youkai.

Once Kagome was used to the added girth inside her, she rocked her hips up, letting him know she was ready for him to start moving.

He started slow, pulling out till just the tip remained before sliding back in. Inuyasha was the one to moan this time, Kagome letting out an erotic sigh as her body shivered under his touch. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasure through his body, the smell of their activities slowly beginning to permeate the air around them, creating a natural musk that was absolutely intoxicating.

Inuyasha raised himself up onto his arms just enough to look at her face as he continued to thrust into her. Kagome’s eyes were only halfway open, seeing but not seeing as she let her body be taken over by the pleasure of having him be not just inside of her, but to actively give her what her body desired. Her mouth was parted open, and Inuyasha could hear every little breathy moan she made as he tilted his hips back and forth, torturing her slowly. 

Kagome hooked her ankles behind his legs in an effort to keep him as deep inside her as possible. One hand was gripping his bicep, the other was sinking into the supple flesh of one of his buttcheeks.

“Inuyasha....I….I need…”

“What do you need, baby?”

“I need more,”

“More of what?” he teased, slowing down his thrusts so he could circle his hips into her. Kagome let out a small cry at the sensation.

“I need it harder….faster…”

Inuyasha let out a low growl, and, with the precision only one with youkai ancestry could pull off, he fully raised himself up onto his knees, keeping himself inside of her. He grabbed both of her legs, hooking her ankles behind his head and gave her exactly what she asked for.

He began pounding into her with the fervor of a crazed man. Kagome became far more vocal, gasping and moaning at the force and speed with which he was fucking her with. Her head tilted back into the pillow, forcing her chest open to his eyed. Her breasts were bouncing violently against his movements.

“Touch yourself, Kagome,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobeyment. She instantly grabbed her breasts, molding each of them to her hands before pinching and rolling her nipples between deft fingers.

Kagome was on fire, the heat radiating from her core and spreading all over her body. Once again, the ability to exhale was quickly becoming lost to her, the holding of her breath only making the heat in her groin feel more pronounced. Her legs were beginning to ache, but she could barely feel the tension as he continued to pound into her, using the force and dexterity only a youkai could give her.

Inuyasha could feel he was close to the end, the feel of her wet pussy clenching around his hardened length bringing him closer and closer. He could hear every gasp and hitch of her breath, knowing that she was getting close herself. He wanted to give her one more orgasm before his own. Being mindful of his claws, he snaked his right hand down and began rubbing her clit, his rough, calloused fingers inducing the right amount of friction for Kagome’s legs to tremble.

“Nn..ahhh...Inuyasha...”

“Come on baby. Cum for me, Kagome,”

All it took were those four words to send Kagome over the edge. She let out a high pitched whine, white spots blurred her vision as a tidal wave of pleasure crashed over her body. Inuyasha let out his own yelp, unprepared for the pressure that came when her walls clenched around his cock, feeling as if she was cutting off blood flow. He erratically drove into her a couple more times before shooting his seed into the condom he wore.

Inuyasha slowly lowered Kagome’s legs to the bed before falling forward, catching himself on his arms so he wouldn’t crush her. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck as Kagome wrapped her arms around his shoulders, absentmindedly grazing her fingers on the nape of his neck. They simply laid there, basking in the glowing aftermath of their orgasm, as they took a few deep breaths.

Inuyasha could have laid there all night, taking in the sweet scent of sex and sweat that had spread throughout the room. There was absolutely no way he was washing these sheets anytime soon. In fact, he might have to research how to bottle this scent, maybe put it in a candle, so that he could relive this moment at any time.

Of course, given the soft humming coming from the woman underneath him, he might be able to reenact this night in the very near future.

Not wanting to crush her any longer, Inuyasha finally pulled out - Kagome letting out a small grunt at the loss of him inside her - carefully taking hold of the now filled condom, tying up the end and throwing it in the small trash can beside his bed.

"I'll be right back," he told her, giving her a quick kiss before walking out of the room towards the bathroom, not giving a damn that he was walking around completely naked. He was still high on all that is Kagome to care about something as silly as that. He came back barely a minute later, after quickly wiping himself clean, with a warm, damp washcloth for Kagome.

He chuckled at the sight before him. Kagome had already cocooned herself under the sheets, a warm smile on her face as she brought the pillow she was holding up towards her face and took a deep breath. She looked so happy, and content, and satisfied. The youkai that slept deep within Inuyasha rumbled with joy at the thought that he was the one to make her feel that way.

She opened her eyes as soon as he reached the bed, her smile brightening just a bit more at the sight of him. Maybe it had just been a while, but Kagome was pretty sure that was some of the best sex she's ever had. Her heart melted a little at seeing the washcloth in his hands. She had always took care of her own needs afterwards, having never really stayed the night at a man's house after sex before. She had to admit, it was….nice, and made her feel more loved than even during the act itself.

She thanked him with another kiss, finding that it was hard to keep her hands off him for more than a minute. He must have felt the same, running his tapered claws through her mussed up hair as she took care of cleaning herself. The feel of the warm washcloth along her thighs mixed with his soft touches could have put her to sleep.

When she was finished, he took the washcloth from her and threw it in the corner of the room where his laundry basket sat. He grabbed the sheets to cover them with, wrapping his arms around her body, pulling her close to him so that her back was flush with his chest

"You know what the best thing about being an adult is?" Kagome asked. Inuyasha gave her an unintelligible reply, muffled by her own hair that he had buried his face into. She giggled from the hair that tickled her neck because of his breath.

"I don't know, you tell me" He repeated, now resting his head on her shoulder.

"Well, we were able to choose to eat dessert before dinner," she said with a laugh.

Inuyasha chuckled at her joke.  "Dessert before dinner, that’s the dream,"

"Well, dessert has made me hungry for dinner," she said, playfully pushing him off her. She could feel that delicious ache between her thighs as she stood up, faltering a little on her first step. Inuyasha was ready to jump up if she fell, but Kagome shooed him away and walked to his closet to pull out a shirt of his to wear.

Inuyasha didn't think Kagome could be any more perfect than in that moment, wearing one of his favorite black long sleeved shirts. She looked beautiful when she dressed up in one of her floral dresses or high waisted skirts, and if all her lingerie looked like tonight's, then Inuyasha could count himself a lucky man. But there was something about seeing her in his clothes that riled up something primal in him.

Inuyasha had never really shown his more youkai tendencies to Kikyo when they were together. He had never suppressed them for her, but Kikyo generally ignored the topic, while Inuyasha's youkai side laid dormant and unimpressed with the woman Inuyasha had loved for so long.

Inuyasha had never experienced his youkai instincts feeling so active before. There was something about Kagome that fueled every fiber of his being, which was a little terrifying. He had only known Kagome for a month, how could he feel this strongly about her already? He certainly didn't want to scare her away because of it.

"Dinner can wait a few minutes, come back to bed," he said, rubbing the empty side of the bed

"Inuyasha, you can't let your apartment burn down because of unattended food! You promised me dinner and a movie. Besides," She exclaimed, a grin lighting up her face. “Who said we were done for the night,”

Kagome shot him a sly wink before stepping out of the room to go check on their dinner. The last thing Inuyasha wanted to do was get up after the mind blowing sex they just had - in fact, Inuyasha could fall asleep right where he laid - but a sudden gurgle of his stomach put thoughts of slumber on the back burner as hunger crept to the forefront. Another plus side to getting up was watching Kagome work in his kitchen, in nothing but his shirt.

Inuyasha thought there could be worse things to happen.

And so he flipped over the sheets, sauntering out into the kitchen, not bothering to cover himself. He would let her fiddle with his marinara sauce, and woo her with the fancy bottle of wine he bought for her to go with the meal. They’d then snuggle up together on the couch and put in a movie. The genre wasn’t important, it wasn’t as if they were going to watch it.

Like Kagome said, they weren’t done for the night, and he was looking forward to claiming her in every room of that damn apartment.

[theheartsmistakes]

Any Other Name: Chapter 2

“Cordelia!” Her mother called up the stairs in a fake, chipper voice that held undercurrents of irritation Cordelia knew had nothing to do with her and everything to do with their company. “Our guests are here. Why don’t you come down and help me set the table for dinner?”

If she took to yelling up the stairs at her rather than walking the staircase or sending her father to come and retrieve her, she must be considerably uncomfortable.

“I’m coming!” said Cordelia so no one could come after her and find her kneeling on the floor over a removed floorboard with a secret letter in her hands.

Quickly, she folded the paper, stuck it back under the floorboard, and pushed the wood plank back into its place before pushing herself to her feet and brushed the dust off of her hands. She grabbed her black cardigan from off the bed and threw it on as she twisted the knob and opened the door and nearly walked right into Augustus Pounceby.

A small shriek escaped her as she fell back against the door frame, cursing in Persian, and clutched her chest.

Augustus smirked. The last time she’d seen him he had an impossibly round face, buck teeth, and a lisp that made it difficult to understand him. They’d been twelve years old at the time, but she didn’t think people could change so much in five years. He’d lost the roundness of his youth, grew several inches, and his teeth were a normal size. His dirty blond hair was cut short at the sides, long on the top, and perfectly coifed with products. He wore a black button-up t-shirt with the buttons done up to his neck, over dark denim jeans, and a pair of black and white trainers.

His smirk turned lascivious as his eyes roved over the length of her body, lingering on the bits her dress left exposed. She fought against the urge to close her cardigan around her.

“Pounceby,” said Cordelia by way of greeting. “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude and a bit creepy to lurk outside of someone’s bedroom door?”

“I was sent to fetch you,” he said, glancing over her shoulder into Lucie’s bedroom. “Your mother said that you’d give me a tour. I’ve always wanted to see the inside of the infamous London Institute.”

Cordelia unceremoniously closed the bedroom door behind her with a bit more force than necessary. Unfortunately, the movement made her step closer to Augustus. “No one’s ever invited you in before?”

“It wasn’t a matter of being invited,” said Augustus, not moving an inch to provide some space between them. “I wouldn’t have stepped one foot inside of this place with those demon-blooded Herondale’s living here. You can still smell their taint all over this place.”

Cordelia shoved her shoulder into his chest as she moved around him, fighting against the urge to also knee him in the solar plexus while simultaneously breaking his nose with her elbow. Her father probably wouldn’t appreciate her getting Pounceby’s blood all over the floor and he’d most likely make her clean it up, so she decided against bloodshed for tonight and keep things— cordial.

“Allow me to give you a tour then,” said Cordelia pointing to the walls as she walked towards the stairs. "This is the hallway and these are the--" She looked over her shoulder and realized Augustus wasn’t following her.

“What’s down this way?” He asked, nodding towards the other end of the hall.

She hadn’t bothered to wander farther than Lucie’s old bedroom. It felt wrong like she needed an invitation to go farther. There were two more doors at the end. One used to be a study and the other had been James’s bedroom.

She’d only ever been in there once the last time her family came to London for a visit. Lucie had gone on a trip to Paris with her Aunt Cecily, but James stayed home due to some punishment after an incident that happened at the Academy. James never told her and she never asked. Not that she could have, from a young age she was so enamored by James that she often found it difficult to form coherent sentences when she was around him. He was the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen. With his raven black hair, always unruly and curling at all ends like it’d been worked and shaped by the wind and his eyes, like golden flecks of sunlight framed by thick dark lashes. She remembered how they would crinkle at the edges when he smiled, and he always smiled at her.

They spent that entire week reading, wandering around the Institute, pretending to battle each other with the baguettes Tessa brought home for dinner. It'd started as the worst summer of her existence and ended as one she would never forget.

Warmth spread up her neck and into her cheeks at the memory of it. “There’s nothing down there. Come on, they’ll be wanting to eat soon.”

“The men are talking in the old, stuffy drawing room,” said Augustus as he turned on his heel and walked leisurely down the hall. “Come on, Carstairs. It’s your house now, you can do whatever you want in it.”

“I want to go downstairs and help my mum set the table,” said Cordelia, crossing her arms. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait just a moment,” drawled Pounceby. “Isn’t this goat eye's old bedroom?”

Cordelia glared. "Who?"

"James."

Cordelia bristled at the rude name he'd given James. “I don’t know. Why does it matter?”

“My interest is peaked is all.”

“Some infatuation of yours with James, Pounceby?” smirked Cordelia. “I’m sure he’ll be flattered, but somehow I doubt you’re his type.”

Augustus put his hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it but it wouldn’t move. “It’s locked.”

Relief swept through Cordelia. “That’s settled then. Let’s go to dinner.”

“Why is it locked?” Augustus tried the door again. “What’s in there?”

“How am I supposed to know. I did just tell you I haven't been there." Cordelia dragged her feet as she came beside him to try the door herself. It was, in fact, locked. “I’ll tell my father about it at dinner and he can find the key, or something.”

Augustus narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you hiding something in here?”

Cordelia’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“It was no secret you were a Herondale and downworlder sympathizer,” he said with a sneer that once again made Cordelia want to shove his face into the wall. “Is there a reason you don’t want me going in here?”

Cordelia’s empty hands clenched around the fabric of her cardigan to keep from swinging out against her will. “If you want to look stupid for claiming that my father has anything to hide from the Clave by dragging them away from their drinks to come up here and open a door that’s obviously been locked from the inside, only to find that it is as empty as all the rest?” She stepped aside so there was room for him to go around her. “Please, by all means, be my guest. I was really hoping for quality entertainment tonight and to see the look of disappointment on your father’s face will be well worth the wait.”

Augustus held her gaze for just a moment longer before he released his grip on the door and walked past her, whispering the word ‘bitch’ in a volume that was just loud enough for her to hear.

She’d been called worse.

When he was far enough down the hallway, she gave the doorknob another attempt, but just as before it wouldn’t budge.

Curious, she thought and tucked the anomaly away for a later time.

~ ~ ~

“Ah, there she is!” Her father said as Cordelia descended the stairs. Now with the lights all burning in their sconces from the wall, casting shadows from the chandeliers, they gave the Institute back some semblance of the warmth that Cordelia remembered when she would visit. It still felt odd without any Herondale presence; she half expected Will to come bursting through the door in a rage about the city traffic and Tessa to follow behind him with her genuine smile.

But the front door remained closed, much to Cordelia’s dismay, as she slowly sank from the last step.

“Cordelia, you remember Inquisitor Bridgestock?” said her father with a tight smile.

Cordelia looked to the tall man standing before her. He always reminded her of a toad with his round face, bulbous eyes, and thin mouth. He even had a rather large wart at the start of his right eyebrow.

“Well, Elias, what a beauty your daughter has become,” said the Inquisitor, folding his hands in front of himself, not even bothering to shake hers, because why would he? Perhaps he thought her dainty little hands couldn’t withstand his masculine dynamism.

She fought hard not to roll her eyes at her thoughts and plastered a smile across her face. “Oh yes, I remember him well.”

“And our new Consul, Marcus Pounceby?”

Her eyes shifted to the man standing beside the Inquisitor. He did offer her his hand, and when she placed it into his smooth palm, she could not feel a single callous on his fingers or palm. It made her wonder when the last time he trained, or patrolled, or held a weapon for that matter. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. A European custom and she was in Europe, but it still made her feel uneasy, small. At least, he wasn’t trying to kiss both of her cheeks like the French, which she didn’t mind, it just all depended on the person. Lucie and James’s cousin Anna was privy to that custom and with her, Cordelia didn’t mind it in the least.

“My son wouldn’t stop raving about you when he learned about your arrival,” said the Consul. “He spoke of your bravery, your skill, we are very lucky to have you back in England. He graduated from the Academy with top marks and has shown himself to lead a powerful squadron of Shadowhunters. You should speak to him about going out on raids together. He can show you around town.”

Her eyes flashed to Augustus, standing beside his father, looking rather bumptious. When she didn’t say anything for a good long time, her father nudged her with his elbow. “That would be delightful.”

She’d only used the word delightful possibly twice in her life. It tasted like poison coming out of her mouth, but it did its job. They both looked pleased with her which made it all the more difficult not to vomit on their shiny oxfords.

Only her father, who was attuned to her sarcasm and indifference after being the victim of it for sixteen years, noted the tone of her voice.

“Where is your son?” inquired the Consul.

“He stayed in Tehran to oversee the Institute until the new family moves in,” said her father. “He’ll be joining us just as soon as their settled.”

“Excellent,” said the Inquisitor. “Another student of the academy that succeeded with top marks. We could use him on the streets while this issue with the Downworlders is in effect and in meetings regarding demon and downworlder business. He had some dealing of his own with the Herondale boy, did he not?”

Cordelia looked to her father for an answer. She knew Alastair and James went to the academy at the same time and didn’t necessarily get along. Then some incident happened that resulted in James’ expulsion, but she didn’t know what that had to do with Alastair. He never told her even though she asked him nearly a hundred times.

Elias shifted a step so he stood closer to Cordelia. “Alastair only spoke of how troubled James was.” His eyes flashed to Cordelia. A warning and a plead not to say a word.

“Yes, well, with the filth that runs in that family’s blood it is no wonder he was capable of causing such a disturbance. He shouldn’t have been accepted into the academy in the first place,” said Inquisitor Bridgestock.

Cordelia bit the inside of her lip until she tasted blood.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Elias?” asked Bridgestock.

Elias breathed through his nose and straightened his shoulders. “Of course. Now that we’ve all been reacquainted, why don’t we move this discussion into the dining room. Sona has been slaving away in the kitchen for the better part of our move-in day to make this dinner special. Cordelia, please go help your mother.”

Cordelia gave them a half-hearted curtsy and dipped out of the entryway towards the hall that led to the kitchen. Upon noticing her angelic energy, the lights in the sconces along the walls flickered on with several distinct clinks and filled the space with a subtle glow. Cordelia put her hand on the swinging door that led into the kitchen where her mother, with a large ladle in hand, poured some kind of broth over the sliced pork chops lined neatly on a silver platter.

“I can’t do it,” said Cordelia as soon as the door swung shut again. “They are absolutely incorrigible. They called the Herondale’s filthy.”

Sona set the bowl of broth down on the crowded counter and started to pull the leaves off from a sprig of thyme. “You already knew they felt this way, Cordelia. This should not come as a surprise.”

“Yes, but to hear them say it out loud makes my skin crawl.” She picked up the serving fork and stabbed it into a pork chop. “I can’t even say anything to defend them. I just have to nod my head at all of their slurs. I might as well be stabbing my friends in the back.”

Sona wiped her hands on the cloth hanging over her shoulder as she turned to Cordelia. “Your friends know you, they know your truth, and they would want for you to protect yourself. If the situation was reversed and it was our family that had been banished, what would you want from James and Lucie?” After a moment, when Cordelia didn’t answer, Sona continued, “I knew Tessa well. She was a good friend. I know that if the situation was reversed, I would want Tessa to protect her family.”

“She was a good friend?” Cordelia emphasized the second word without looking at her mother. “Maybe I would want James and Lucie to protect themselves and not be banished like me, but I know I wouldn’t want them to stop seeing me as their friend.”

Sona opened her mouth and sighed. “Cordelia—“

“Let’s just feed the monsters so they can leave.” Cordelia picked up the platter of steaming pork chops and started towards the swinging door, leaving her mother to look as dejected as Cordelia felt.

Once in the dining room, still decorated in Tessa’s elegant taste with gold and white herons flying across the wallpaper with holly in their beaks, Cordelia set the platter of pork onto the center of the mighty oak table. The chandelier hung low with sphere-shaped crystals that cast rainbows across the walls when the light from the large arched window at the west side of the room hit them. The table was set for only six people tonight with Elias at the head closest to the window.

Cordelia had no choice but to sit beside Augustus, as all the other spots had been taken.

Sona followed in after her, free now of her emerald green apron and kitchen towels, carrying a plate of scorched rice and another plate of fresh-herb Kuku-- Cordelia’s favorite. A twinge of guilt went through her as she noticed the plates of comfort food her mother had prepared for no one else, but Cordelia.

“Sorry about the wait, gentlemen,” said Sona as she placed the food on the table. “I hope you’re all hungry and wish to expand your palettes. These are all dishes from Tehran. We thought you might like to experience something from our home.”

Augustus looked at the green pie-shaped dish placed directly in front of him as if it might come to life and attack him.

“It’s called Kuku,” said Cordelia, serving herself a large piece before anyone else. “It’s delicious.”

“It’s green,” said Augustus and looked to his father for help.

Consul Pounceby just laughed. “You didn’t have to go out of your way for us. We would have been happy with fish and chips or a nice shepherds pie.” He forked a piece of pork onto his plate with a small helping of scorched rice.

"What kind of pie?" asked Cordelia with a mouth full of Kuku.

“I thought it might be nice to have something from home for our first night here,” said Sona.

“It’s looks wonderful, darling,” said Elias.

The conversation took a small reprieve as everyone ate their meals. Metal forks clinked against plates and ice rattled around in glassware in the silence. Marcus Pounceby chewed with his mouth open and took a particular fondness to the Kuku, though his son took one bite and then refused to acknowledge it again. Inquisitor Bridgestock proceeded to take a drink of his wine after each bite to clear his throat. Cordelia felt a brief sense of satisfaction at the light sheen of sweat that coated his brow after having a piece of pork.

“We’re not used to such flavors here in England,” said Inquisitor Bridgestock, dabbing his face with his napkin. “It’s quite exotic.”

“I may have gone a bit heavy handed on the peppers,” said Sona as she soaked a piece of her pork in the sauce. “Can I get anyone some water or milk, perhaps?”

Cordelia forced herself not to laugh.

“Milk?” inquired Marcus. “Does that help?”

“It does,” said Sona.

“That won’t be necessary.” Bridgestock patted his distended stomach. “I’m quite finished as is. If I drink a glass of milk you’ll have to roll me out the door or call my wife and have her come drive me home.”

“How is Mary Beth?” asked Sona. “It’s a shame she couldn’t come tonight. I did look forward to seeing her again.”

Another easy lie from her mother. The last time Mary Beth and Sona met, Sona couldn’t stop talking about what a deplorable know-it-all with questionable moral Mary Beth was and how the Bridgestock’s may have not been the best family to adopt the young Ariadne girl. To go from such strong feelings towards the Bridgestock's to inquiring about her as if her absence was missed surprised Cordelia. Her mother’s ability to be so languid never ceased to amaze her.

“She’s well. She simply didn’t want to be present for a bunch of Clave talk.” Bridgestock wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Not when she had a previously schedules game of bridge with some of the other wives. You should go sometime, Sona.”

Her mother’s tight smile was all Cordelia needed to know. She’d been invited to a few bridge games and attended one thinking that at least Tessa would be there and she’d have someone to talk to, but when she got home Sona looked exhausted and explained that all the women at the bridge club did was gossip, smoke, and drink expensive wine. There was not one game of bridge to be played. She then went into a rather hilarious impression of the Inquisitor's wife, with her pinched face and animated hands that may have been slightly exaggerated, but had even Alastair snickering.

“Perhaps when things are a bit more settled,” said Sona and took a long drink from her water glass.

“That reminds me,” said Marcus as he placed his napkin on the table, “we’ve interrupted your move in day. We apologize. We’ll get out of your way just as soon as we finish some business with Elias. Should we retire to the study, gentlemen?”

“Yes,” said Bridgestock as he rose from the table. “There is much to discuss regarding this Downworlder business. We’ll need to brief you on some of the changes we’re making regarding the laws and how we are expecting those on patrol to be our inforcers. We’d appreciate your opinion on a few of these matter before we hold the official Clave meeting in two weeks.”

“Uh, yes,” said Elias as he stood from the table too. “Cordelia, would you mind helping your mother with the dishes and then come and join us—“

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” said the Inquisitor. “Our talk will just bore her. We can explain everything to her at the official meeting with the rest of the Clave.”

Elias’s grip flexed on his dining room chair. “My daughter will be one of those patrolling the streets of your city. I would like for her to be prepared and understand what is expected of her.”

“Kill demons and any downworlders that dares to step out of line,” whispered Augustus under his breath. “Not much else left to understand.”

Demons can take the shape of many things, she thought. Even privileged, annoying boys.

She might be able to plead her case against the Clave if she were to accidentally stab him.

“It will all be explained at the meeting,” continued Bridgestock. “Until then, Cordelia will not be allowed to patrol alone and will instead train with Augustus.”

Cordelia couldn’t stop the pinched look that took over her face. Her mother nudged her underneath the table before anyone could see her.

The men filed out of the dining room, leaving their half-cleared plates of food for Cordelia and Sona to clean up. They piled the dishes and separated the silverware in silence before carting everything back into the kitchen.

Sona turned on the faucet over the deep bucket sink and held her hand under it waiting for the water to warm while Cordelia continued to bring plates in and set them on the small island.

She glanced at the old grandfather clock that stood in the hallway each time she passed it. Only two more hours and she could find Lucie. Finally, there would be someone she could speak freely about all of this to and not constantly be shut down; told to smile, and bear it.

The large hand steadily clicked on, but not fast enough.

Not nearly fast enough.

A/N:

This chapter does include some artistic license. To make it relative to the times, I changed it from James having to stay home from a Paris trip due to being expelled from school rather than being sick with the Scarlet Fever.

I also made up Augustus's appearance. It is not canon. It's just how he looks in my head.

Also I have no clue what Inquisitor Bridgestock's wife's name is so I'm calling her Mary Beth.

Comments and hearts are ALWAYS appreciated!

Next update comes out in two weeks: May 28

[trees-and-a-blue-sky]

quick addition to prev. (kamui blues au)

---------

“I just don’t think Sora-san seems like someone of the type you describe her as,” Obito said with a shrug. “She is not scared of me and I am the bigger monster between us.” Obito threw a look to Kakashi who raised a brow as if to say “Nobody in here is a monster.” 

Yamato shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know what Obito and Sora talked about in their sessions, of course that was all confidential, but maybe she just liked him more. After all, Obito didn’t have two odd eyes and a third one hidden under his hair. Obito was normal, well fairly normal.

A loud “thumb” could be heard from the side of the Hokage desk. Rin sighed loud, now back on her feet after she had been sitting on the table top. She’d grown quite some in the last months, finally hitting puberty for real, over ten years after she died. She waved dismissively with a hand into the round of men standing in front of her.

“I am technically older than all of you,” Rin said with an eye roll “and though I don’t know you as well..:” She pointed at Yamato, “..as 5 years your senior I think you should absolutely listen to my old woman advice.”

Obito groaned: “You’re not really older now, Rin,” but she ignored him. 

“Yamato-san”, Rin said and went on her tiptoes to look directly into his starry eyes. “Sora-san, Doctor Sarutobi, that woman- “ Pause. “She has a thing for you.”

Yamato stared at the old young girl and said nothing but: “I don’t think-”

“These guys,” Rin waved her hand at Obito and Kakashi behind her, “of course have no clue what a woman thinks, because they have as much understanding for people's feelings as potted plants do-” Obito said: “Hey!” but Kakashi nodded, which amused Yamato greatly. “But I have the session right before yours every week and I can tell you by the way she looks at the clock in my last five mintues that she clearly has a crush on you.”

“She always cries after our session ends. Always. I’m pretty sure I disgust her”, Yamato shrugged his shoulders and tried to ignore the way his inside had clenched when Rin had used the word “crush”.

Rin rolled her eyes again, her face eerily similar to the face Naruto used to make when Yamato had tried to give him orders. Teenage rebellion at its finest. “Yes, surely, a woman’s tears can famously only mean one thing. But she didn’t stop seeing you did she? If she is so disgusted by you, why would she even invite you back?”

“Because Kakashi asked her to look after me,” Yamato said straight back like he had just thought of the perfect argument. Had this been on his mind a lot in the last few months? Yes, it had and he was glad he could say it out loud. 

Rin made a buzzer sound and crossed her arms in front of her chest like a big x. “Wrong.” Then, while poking into Yamato’s lower belly she asked: “Did you never have an intimate moment with each other? In all these months?”

“Intimate- no, no, I would not-” Yamato stammered.

“What do you think grown ups do in therapy, Rin?” Obito said from the back, emphasising on “grown ups.”

“Rin I wouldn’t accept such a thing”, Kakashi said calmly.

She snorted: “I don’t mind that. I meant something else. A hug. A touch. Maybe an arm over the shoulder for support. Something that is intimate.”

Yamato immediately thought of the time Sora had taken his hand into his, when he had without thinking put his fingers in between hers. How soft they had been. How they’d looked into each other’s eyes without looking away. He blushed and Rin said loudly: “Ha!”

“We held hands” Yamato said and then corrected to, “Sarutobi- san supported me by holding my hand and when she did I held hers.” He felt his neck burn hot. “But she took her hand away immediately and sent me home so clearly she was disgusted by it, right?”

Rin tapped her foot impatiently: “No. That- literally nobody but you is thinking that, you idiot.”

He felt a little dizzy. He looked up at the other two men in the room and knew his eyes were pleading for support. But that support was not given back to him. Obito had his brows under his black hair: “Yeah, that seems pretty obvious to me.”

Yamato looked at Kakashi, his senpai wouldn’t let him down, right? “Senpai, do you think…?”

“Yeah, Tenzou. I also think you are an idiot.”

[fanfoolishness]

on the subject of rocks (SUF)

Steven and Jasper have a long-overdue conversation.  Set two years after SUF, canon-compliant. A little angst, a lot of hope. ~2500 words.

***

Steven is eighteen years old when he decides he wants to try to speak with her again.  

If she wants to, that is.

He thinks he’s ready.  He thinks the conversation might dim the feeling of her fragments cutting into his palm, the weight of his crime crushing his heart, his gut, his gem.  Therapy has helped a great deal. But there are still nights he wakes up panting, remembering what it felt like to let go, to hurt, to shatter, and he wonders.  

If Jasper has the same terrible memories, the same haunting, then maybe they should talk about it.

He talks with Dr. Boverman for hours.  He wants to be sure this is right.  Not just for him, but he wants to make sure this won’t damage her further than he already has.  They go round and round.  They’ve spoken of so many things, old wounds that pierced and bled and fractured, but most of those wounds were done to him.

The blood on his hands is less than he’d once feared it was, but it still doesn’t scrub clean.

“It will always be with you,” Dr. Boverman’s calm voice says.  “You shattered Jasper.  You didn’t intend to, but it’s what happened.”

“I know,” says Steven, and the thought no longer incapacitates him with shame.  It was terrible, violent, the worst possible action committed at nearly his lowest point.  But he accepts it, now, accepts that this will stay with him always.  That it should.

And yet -- 

He and Dr. Boverman strategize.  Roleplay.  Hours of scenarios, how to accept if she never wants to talk to him again, what to do if Jasper says she isn’t ready, what to do if she lashes out, what to do if she fights him, what to do if she bends her hands into the Diamond salute.  Each scenario frightens him at first, sends his heart racing.  The first time they talked about it he glowed pink again for the first time in months.  But the terror fades a little every time they speak, and several weeks later, he thinks he might be ready.

***

Little Homeworld is always different and always the same.  It’s a comforting flow of change, new Gems appearing each time he visits, old teachers moving on.  His family is still there, of course, and he has plans to catch up with them tomorrow.  But today -- today he wants to know if this is the right time.

If there will ever be a right time.  And if there isn’t, he thinks he can make his peace with that.

He finds Jasper sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the forest, alone as he’d expected she would be.  A sketchbook sits in front of her, colored pencils at her side.  His footsteps crunch on autumn leaves.

“Jasper?” he asks hesitantly, ten feet away.  

She turns to look at him, her form unchanged from the last time he saw her, the stripe through her eye disrupted, her horn broken.  So she hadn’t gone to Yellow, then.  A thread of fear mixed with guilt begins unspooling within him.  Maybe he wasn’t ready after all.

Jasper snorts, a gruff smile spreading over her face.  “I wondered if you’d stop by, one of these days.  I heard some of the others say you were coming into town.”

“Hi,” says Steven hesitantly.  He takes a deep breath, remembering his strategies.  “I -- I’d like to ask you something, Jasper.”

“Shoot,” she says in disinterest, picking up a pencil.  She makes scratchy marks against the sketchbook paper, scribbles he can’t quite make out.

He edges closer.  “I was wondering… I’ve done a lot of thinking.”

“Sounds like you.”

Despite himself, he chuckles slightly.  “All right, fair.”  

“Thinking about what?” she asks.

“About you,” says Steven honestly.  “And me.  What I did to you.  What we did to each other.”  He lets out a long, tremulous sigh, returning mentally to his gemstone, taking deep breaths with his diamond as his anchor.  “And I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it.  It’s okay if you don’t, or if you want me to leave you alone.”  Breath.  Another.  “I’m so sorry, Jasper.”

She glances up at him, giving him an odd look, then gestures beside her with a powerful shoulder.  “Go on.  Sit down, already.”

No ‘my Diamond.’  He’s more relieved than he’d expected to be.  He sets down his bag and sits down on the ground, resting against the log instead of sitting on top of it with her.  He sinks into the soft loam, leans against the fallen trunk.  It’s more comfortable than it looks.  A few feet between them seem like miles, or inches, he isn’t sure.

Jasper regards him coolly, tilting her head slightly to one side.  “Why’d you really come here?”

“To talk to you,” says Steven, his hands folded and calm in his lap, his breathing slowing.  “You told me once that I was the one who needed help.  I’ve been getting it.”

“Told you,” she says, but there’s no gloating in her voice.  She purses her lips, face tensed in concentration.  At last she says, “So have I.”

He blinks, hands coming apart, fingers falling open.  He raises his head and gazes up at her, wondering if he’s heard her right.  “You have?”

“You told me to do something better with my life,” says Jasper, picking up her sketchbook.  At this angle he can see what she’s drawn.  It’s a rock -- what was it with her and rocks -- but a tenderly realized rock, craggy edges shaded in carefully, mosses and lichens rendered in textured shades of green and brown.  

“Jasper, that’s -- that’s really beautiful,” says Steven.  He’s been working on his art, too, but he’s no good at the type of delicate detail work laced into her sketch.  “Who taught you?”

“Ruby,” she says.  She sets the pencil down beside her, hands tensing on the sketchbook.  “I don’t go to Lapis’ classes.”

“Right.”  Part of him is saddened to hear it.  Another part of him is grateful for Lapis’ sake. He wonders which of them he’s most like.  “It seems like you’ve really taken to Little Homeschool.  I’m glad for you.”

A small scoff of a laugh, but it softens at the end into something more like a real smile.  Jasper shakes her hair, its white strands catching in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees.  She looks… calm, like this, and it’s not a state he ever remembers seeing her in before.

“What about you?” she asks suddenly.

“I’m doing well,” he replies, still shocked that they’re talking at all.  It’s going far better than most of the scenarios he’d practiced with Dr. Boverman.   “I visit with my family every couple of weeks.  I’ve been spending a lot of time in cities lately.  All the noise and hustle and bustle… it’s different, sometimes it’s overwhelming, but I like the energy.  It’s… good.  It’s really good.  Connie and I meet up every week.  And I talk to my therapist.”

“What’s that?”

“A therapist?  Um… it’s like a healer for human minds.  But it’s not instant, like with Diamond powers.  It takes time.  A long time.”  He gives her a small smile.  “Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back, but overall, I’m feeling a lot better than… before.”

Jasper considers his words.  She leans down, and he realizes a shiny blue beetle is crawling over the tip of her boot.  He tenses, waiting.

Jasper watches the beetle go, making no further move toward it.  It ambles away peacefully.

“You are not my Diamond,” she says into the silence.

“No,” he agrees, and something inside of him unclenches.  “I -- I’m a Diamond.  But mostly I’m just Steven.”

“I hated you for so long.”

He fights an urge to be sarcastic, to bite back at her.  This doesn’t sound… angry.  He keeps quiet, and lets her speak.

Her hand clenches into a fist, heavy against her thigh.  “I thought that if you could stop being weak, if I could make you stronger, I would have my Diamond again.  My purpose.  Someone to protect, someone to serve.”  

She stares into the woods, and he remembers his hands and legs awash in pink, the glow as he tore through the trees beneath a starry sky.  He remembers jagged laughter, his gem humming, a power crueler than he’d ever felt before --  

“I know.”

“Don’t ‘I know’ me when I’m talking to you,” she snaps.  “I’m trying to -- arrgh.  I thought this would be easier.”

“You thought what would be easier --” he starts to ask.

“You know.  Talking.  Ugh.  It’s nothing like a good fight.  The target keeps changing.”  She crosses her arms, still staring off into the trees.  The sun shifts overhead, casting her face in shadow.

“That’s called a conversation,” he says gently.  “Battles are battles, but a hard conversation… it can hurt.”

“Now you tell me,” says Jasper, and it takes him a solid minute before he realizes it’s a joke.  He laughs, but it’s too late, and Jasper shakes her head.  “Look.  Steven.  I -- I’m sorry.”  The words are hasty and fumbled and fast, but he catches them, barely.

“You’re sorry?” Steven yelps.  “But I’m the one who shattered you.”  It still comes out like a dirty word, almost two years later.  He wonders if he’ll ever be able to fully say it, if he’ll ever be able to act like it hasn’t scarred him.  He hopes not.  “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

“You have.  Just now, and before,” she says, shrugging.  “But I only said I’d teach you to get you to fight me.  And you did.  And I lost.”

“Because I lost myself, I lost who I was, you didn’t make me --”

“But you were off-color,” growls Jasper.  “You were -- what do you humans call it again --?”

“Sick,” he says softly.  Such a small word.  It barely begins to cover everything that went wrong two years ago, but he knows CPTSD won’t mean a thing to her, and that’s okay, that’s not what he’s here for.

“Sick,” she repeats.  “And I --”  She digs her hands into the tree bark, small flakes of it crumbling beneath her shaking hands.  “I made you worse.  So that I could get something I wanted.  I failed to protect my Diamond from myself.”

“Jasper --” he gasps.  “You’ve been blaming yourself? For me shattering you?”

“Someone’s got to do it,” she huffs.

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, tries to take another deep breath, reminds himself to return to the thought of his gem as a centering point.  He can do this.  He can do this.  It’s just, this isn’t how he thought it would go at all.  

He closes his eyes.  Remembers the way she screamed at him, punches in the gut, the face, the sides.  Remembers the way she goaded, the way she pressed, how proud she looked of how frightening he’d become.  He doesn’t know what to say.  “I -- I was sick,” he manages finally.  “I -- you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

He shakes his head at that.  “But I’m still the one who did it.  I still have to take responsibility for hurting you,” he demands.

Jasper gives him an appraising look.  “Hmph,” she says, and he doesn’t know if it’s a hmph of agreement or a hmph of disdain.  It’s hard to tell with Jasper.  She holds the silence an uncomfortably long time before she says, “Maybe.”

“This isn’t how -- I wanted you to be mad at me,” Steven admits.  “I wanted you to be pissed off! To tell me to get away from you!”

“I can still do that,” says Jasper, apparently turning the thought around in her mind.  She chuckles, very slightly.  “But if that’s an order, I’m ignoring it.”

He laughs.  “You’re full of surprises, Jasper.”

“Am not.”

“You kind of are.”

“Don’t be so surprised then.”  She picks up her pencil, returning to her sketch.  Grass starts to grow beneath her rock, verdant blades springing up from dark soil.

“I thought you hated the local ecosystem.”

“It has its functions,” says Jasper begrudgingly.  “If I leave the grass it provides better contrast for the rocks.”  She picks up a different shade of green, adding highlights.  “It’s still puny.  But it has a purpose of its own.”

“What’s yours?” he asks, then kicks himself for getting so personal.

“Only if you tell me what yours is.”

Two years ago, the request would have paralyzed him.  Two years ago, he’d have panicked, spun out with a lie, tried his best not to think about who he was and what he was supposed to do.

He just smiles.  Breathes in the fresh green air, so different from the machine-smell of the big city.  Beneath the green there’s a hint of salt, the promise of the sea.  It smells like home.

“My purpose is to be Steven,” he says simply.  “To be myself.  To grow and change.  To love myself, regrets and all.”

“Sounds all right,” says Jasper begrudgingly.  “Sort of like mine these days.”  She turns to him, frowning.  “You got something to write on?”

“Uh, let me see.”  He rummages in his bag.  “Oh hey!  I have my sketchbook, too.”

“Well?” Jasper says, pointing to the boulder before her.  “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He flips through his sketchbook, passing pages of silly Connie faces, a self-portrait in pink and white, Lion poses, CPH classic fanart.  He settles on a blank page and Jasper shoves a green pencil into his hand.  He feels smooth wood, the lightness of the organic drawing implement rounded and gentle in his palm.  No sharp edges, no jagged fragments, no terrible weight dragging his clenched hand into the hot water.  He blinks back tears.

The sunlight shifts, the golden hour arriving, brilliant light shafting through the leaves above and lining the forest floor in spun-gold glory.  His hands don’t quite have this kind of magic in them, but he tries his best, his drawing including sketches of the rock, the grass, the trees beyond them. He adds a gleaming line of yellow at the edges.  He’ll show it to Dr. Boverman at their next appointment.

“Not bad,” says Jasper, peering over his sketchbook.  “You added the trees.”

“It just felt more complete that way,” he says.  He glances at her drawing.  The rock is resplendent, resting on gold-touched grass, light captured in patches against the mosses and lichens.  “You can see all of this?  It’s incredible, Jasper.”

“It’s just what it looks like,” she says stubbornly.  “It’s a good challenge.”

“Like a conversation,” he says, half to himself.  

“Something like that.”  The breeze flutters past them, carrying faint birdsong, the far-off scent of the sea.

“Thanks for talking with me, Jasper.  I know you didn’t have to.”

“Of course.  I do what I want,” she replies, and her voice is gentler than he’s ever heard it.