#i spend so much time thinking about how to make drawn women hot so whenever i see this stuff i explode

[kodocha4ever]

i’m gonna post this here even tho i don’t do personal posts here typically. but like i wouldn’t wanna post this unless theres a readmore where like u gotta agree to see it and twitter doesnt have that.

anyways this stupid pinup sonico figure has been on my mind for the last 24 hours so hard. warning for suggestive pinup anime woman and like light suggestive convo idk

its makin me think so hard abt the idea of lesbian attraction to women versus male attraction to women. like she’s so close to being a Successful Pinup for me (AND THERES A LOT OF SONICO FIGURES THAT ARE VERY MUCH THAT FOR ME) and yet shes not?

theres a lot of things (her expression, how the outfit is executed) and i’ll get into those later but like the biggest thing is the exaggerated proportions that lack actual like.... depth? or like basis in reality? like here lemme just show a doodle i did to try to illustrate the idea

(SORRY I KNOW THEYRE NOT THE SAME POSE ITS SO HARD TO DRAW LIKE THE WAY ON THE LEFT. JUST TRYIN TO ILLUSTRATE THE IDEA I HOPE U STILL GET IT)

idk people love to boil down to “body exaggeration bad” which like it can be? i think there’s room for it so long as you know what you’re doing. but anyways, since the goal is to be like a pinup i’m gonna speak to it trying to be “hot”. like you can make exaggeration hot, imo the tools for it is it needs to use some tools of “reality” (like how bodies work) to be attractive. things like hourglass figures just need some tummy (even if its flat) or like more sag to boobs (an aside, does anyone actually find really unreal orb boobs with zero sag attractive??)

as much as the above has different poses i think i still got the idea across of like. the left is exaggerated without care for depth and form, the right has that more in mind despite having equally as exaggerated proportions.

as an aside. i often wonder if the “vagina bones” thing anime does is just a pugification of tummy shadow, but bastardized into being more of a hip related thing because “sizable tummy bad” (cowards)

anyways other things: - theyre cowards for not having her interact with the guitar. if you know me i love guitar girls so i’m so offended they just set a guitar in the corner and called it a day. -her expression is so neutral-negative it’s boring and just idk... doesn’t do anything for it. -the garters/shorts/panties all exist in the same small space and feel cluttered. like they should have made higher up garters for one... the shorts would work better as a different color and they later released this version that does that and it is an improvement, but the one shown above is the Original release - (warning this ones more suggestive:) her boobs and the like Squish shes doin aren’t fun or attractive because of the aforementioned exaggeration (without “basis in reality”) issues. like the tantalizing thing about it would be like a squish effect but she has no meat so its just like... what am i gaining here. 

anyways tho. for reference if you’re curious heres two sonico figures i think are good (this one fixes the squish issue and also makes my brain sound like a fax machine) (this one has really good garters and i love her expression)

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this for a lovey anon, I hope you like it!

It is a Phoenix x female!reader x Bob imagine.

Your callsign in this is ‘Boxer’, thank you to @hederasgarden for proofreading and moral support!

Warnings: the tiniest bit of smut

You couldn’t quite determine how close Phoenix and her WSO Bob were, but they seemed to get along very well.

Ever since you had been asked back to Top Gun and started working on a mission with Captain Mitchell, the two aviators caught your eye immediately.

You were trying to be professional, but whenever the two of them were in a room with you you couldn’t help but glance at them often.

You knew that they were both extraordinary aviators but in the few less formal interactions you had with them both of them seemed rather timid yet fun to be around.

You liked shy guys so Bob was definitely your type and while Phoenix seemed taken aback whenever she talked to you she seemed like a fighter and like she wouldn’t back down from a fight, which also was your type.

You needed to constantly remind yourself that they were technically your subordinates, which in your mind made it impossible to ask either of them out.

While you liked both men and women, you had never been good at maintaining relationships before, which was another reason why you didn’t want to think about the possibility of asking either of them out or who you’d choose if you decided to.

That was until you started receiving gifts, most often two at a time, at the door to your office or on your desk as well.

You had a wonderful time with the aviators team before at the beach, thanks to the ingenious idea of Captain Mitchell.

He had suggested to spend some time and make it a bonding experience for the young aviators to build up trust for the upcoming mission, and while it was unorthodox you had immediately agreed.

Mitchell’s idea of dogfight football had all of you hot and sweaty after a few minutes and while all of the shirtless men were a sight to see, your eyes were drawn to your two favourite aviators.

Phoenix also discarded her shirt leaving her only in a black sports bra and shorts, which had you breathless and distracted every time you caught a glimpse of her.

Bob also caught your eye often but he was far more modest than the others, keeping his shirt on through the game and making you fall for him even more because of it.

You had been lucky that the two of them were on your team and you had the chance to interact with them personally, you instinctively took the role of team leader on as you bossed them around, receiving small smiles from both of them and shared glances between them that you didn’t notice.

After that day you had started receiving gifts, single flowers or small bouquets, drawings of yourself that were done in beautiful detail or small origami pieces in the shapes of small boxer dogs, your callsign.

Whoever made the effort to do this had obviously taken the time to get to know you well enough to know the origin story of your callsign, which was to be explained by your love for dogs and the fact that boxers were dangerous, just like you.

The presents were dropped off at irregular intervals so it was impossible to catch whoever left them in the act, but the way both Phoenix and Bob watched you whenever they saw you holding your newest gift told you all you needed to know.

After receiving another small but definitely not cheap looking bouquet of wildflowers, you decided it was time to ask them to come to you for a talk.

You didn’t know what they were doing exactly, if they were competing for your attention or not but they seemed too close for that, which just didn’t make sense to you.

After finishing the mission, which had been much more challenging for you than usual because you were emotionally involved through them you decided to ask them to your office one final time.

The moment they stepped into your office and closed the door behind them you were nervous, but you were supposed to be level headed as their superior after all.

“While I have to say I’m flattered by your attention I can’t see the sense in it. You already flew the mission, there’s no reason for bribery anymore,” you told them carefully, but when Phoenix and Bob only shared a gentle chuckle at your comment you slowly realised that your initial interpretation of their presents had been right.

You waited for their answer nevertheless, watching them carefully until Phoenix stepped forward.

“Actually, ma’am, that’s not the reason why we’ve been leaving those,” she addressed you with the word that made goosebumps rise on your skin when it came out of her mouth.

“The two of us, we both… like you,” she told you with a glance at Bob, who encouraged her by nodding timidly.

You were still trying to process the newfound information and a small silence fell over the room.

You didn’t say anything until Bob spoke up, stepping next to Phoenix as he did so.

“We kinda thought you could go on a date with us both if you want. Together,” he suggested.

After your initial shock you couldn’t believe your luck, a smile steadily broadened on your face.

You were grinning when you spoke up, nodding as you watched them looking visibly relieved as well.

“I’ll see you tonight at 21:00 at the Hard Deck then, Lieutenants,” you said, receiving broad smiles and nods from both.

You couldn’t decide which facial expressions you preferred, hers or his, because while Phoenix looked smug and proud of herself, Bob seemed utterly relieved and joyful.

You made sure to look exceptionally good that evening, making an effort with your clothes, hair and makeup choice.

When you entered the Hard Deck a minute before 9 pm you found both Bob and Phoenix sitting at the bar, beer in hand, motioning for you to join them.

You were in awe of the way Bob managed to look even more composed than the usual meticulous look he had and you were breathless when you saw Phoenix in shorts and her hair down, framing her already beautiful face to perfection.

You were excited to see them both and they ordered you a drink on Bob’s tab, saying that next time it would be Phoenix’s turn to pay.

The date went well and all of you enjoyed yourselves, drinking, talking and joking together as the evening progressed.

You had started out sitting next to Phoenix but as time went by you found yourself sitting in between the two of them, with you capturing both their attention entirely.

You were talking happily when Phoenix’s hand came to rest on your thigh while Bob leaned in towards you without touching you.

He was close enough to you that you could feel his breath on the skin of your shoulder and neck and it made you slightly dizzy.

Phoenix’s hand was carefully caressing your thigh, not too daunting but prominent enough to make you breath catch in your throat.

You tried not to let that deter your from your usually collected demeanor as you fought to keep the upper hand, you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks so you came up with a suggestion.

“Let’s go to my place,” you offered, looking at Bob who blushed at the way those words could be interpreted.

“I’ve got beer at home, plus it’d grant us a little more privacy,” you added, receiving a mischievous smile from Phoenix.

She was the first to stand up, pulling you with her by slipping her hand in yours while Bob was left to follow closely behind.

You almost made it out of the bar when you heard one of the other recruits speak up, speaking loudly so it could be heard over the chatter of other people.

“You two and the boss? Nice,” your slightly drunk and oh so charming subordinate praised Phoenix’s and Bob’s apparent win, making you chuckle at his audacity.

Phoenix simply rolled her eyes and pulled you with her, making your way to your car and home.

The drive was spent in anticipation as her hand roamed your thigh, growing more adventurous as she watched how you tried to concentrate on driving.

Bob had taken his usual seat in the back while Phoenix sat beside you, all of you wanting the drive to end.

When it did you made your way to the front door with your keys in hand, surprising yourself by managing to open it on the first try, even with the blood pumping through your head.

You chose to act first as you turned around to kiss Bob on the lips, drawing him closer by putting your arms around his neck.

He was caught off guard but immediately kissed back, letting out a little grunt in surprise while you felt Phoenix step towards you, her hand starting to roam your back in encouragement.

You were quick to pull them into your bedroom that you had cleaned in anticipation of something like this happening, gently but firmly pushing Bob to sit on the edge of your bed and breaking your kiss.

You turned to face Phoenix who smirked at you as you pulled her towards you by her hips.

You were sure Phoenix could be more dominant if she wanted to but she seemed happy letting you lead her as your lips met.

When you pulled away you shot both of them a grin as you pulled your shirt over your head, giving them a great view of your lace bra.

“Now, let me tell you how this is going to go,” you tell them both, rewarded by their eager grins.

tagging: @hederasgarden @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @peaches-1999 @oliviah-25 @natasharomanoffisbaebby @aprilfire18 @luckyladycreator2 @blue-aconite @tipsykeen @airedale17 @iangiemae @uwiuwi @princessofglitterland @ycarlii @simping4wanda @tamix44

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

[vinylhazza]

For Keeps (G.D)

Summary: Jesse knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to say it, or rather demand it. Grayson, who carries respect and dignity like a shield of armor, walks the line of being the vanilla boyfriend he always thought she’d want, or the guy that listens to the devil on his shoulder and embellishes on the fantasies that won’t leave him alone every night. There is a first for everything, a time and place to try something -- or some one new. There is a chance to set the fire in motion. He might just take it.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warning: Strong sexual content, giving head, fingering, spitting, explicit language 

          There is a first for everything.

          The first time you ride a bike, the first time you try your favorite food, the first time you win an award, the first time you hear your favorite song, the first time you talk to the person you’re meant to spend the rest of forever with, the first time you overcome your worst fear, the first time you read your favorite book, the first time you travel to a different country, the first time you have thoughts that should damn you for eternity and for some...there is even a first time for eating pussy.

         It’s an embarrassment he’d never wanted anyone to discover let alone put to the test. Sure his friends had their time to talk about their extensive knowledge on female anatomy, but whenever the topic of him and Jesse doing anything outside the box he himself had placed them in, his lips were sealed. For one thing it wasn’t their business, for two he’s not entirely sure what he would say. He knew the time would come. He didn’t view their relationship like a race and he knew Jesse didn’t either. They’d been friends for too long and knew each other too well for him to base their relationship off of sex. 

       Grayson keeps his eyes glued to his hands holding Jesse’s hips tight -- unsure of what to do now that he’s got her beneath him and wanting him to have his way with her. He knows what he wants, but doubts that he has the courage to pursue it within him. He’d watch her with careful eyes as she peeled off each article of clothing before pulling him close by his belt loop and on to the bed to kiss her rough busy day away. A picnic was nice, but his complete and undivided attention was better. Even if his eyes trailing up and down every part of her body made her nervous. 

          He’d done plenty of things with his ex before Jesse, but none of those things had involved his lips and tongue anywhere beneath the waist. Not anything like he’s inevitably about to do. 

         “Cat caught your tongue?” Jesse had snickered minutes ago, a sly smirk lacing up her ruby red lips from so much kissing -- moment’s before he’d gotten them both all hot and bothered. He couldn’t help it when he was with her, his self control falters and he’s drunk off her touch once again, swimming in a pool of despair he can’t control. All he can think about is her. Wanting her. Needing her. Touching every single inch of her velvety skin. Wanting to do things to her. Wanting her to do things to him. Things he would blush at in the future.

         Jesse was a woman with desires he’d only dreamed of women having. She was shy at times but the devil danced in her bright eyes. Grayson knew she wanted things she’d never had the guts to say out loud and things she only wanted from him alone. It all made him a fierce kind of nervous, but gave him an electrified thrill. A challenge for him to explore the workings of her body and all the ways he can make her more satisfied than she’s ever been. He didn’t plan on letting her go anytime soon - and if he wanted to do her right, he had to go outside of his comfort zone for her.

         Knowing Jesse was more experienced did things to him that he couldn’t begin to hide -- but more than anything it made him jealous of every set of hands that had ever touched her skin before his. It made him reckless and competitive, focused and haughty. He was better than them, he could be better than them.

         He could rapture her into a whirlwind of pleasure that would ruin her image of every man except him, wanting no one's mouth but his, daydream of no one’s lips but his own, beg for no one else’s touch, want no one else’s hands but the ones holding her now. It wasn’t about him, this wasn’t about his pleasure for once, it was truly all about her. 

         Pulling him back into the flames, he’s burning up under her intense stare, waiting for him to do something, do anything. Anything but watch her long enough to find something less than stellar, less than grand, less than exceptional. With her fears unfolding she pulls him down for a kiss of her own, a soft feather of a thing he can feel all the way to his toes. She’d always been good at that, giving  him more to miss when she’s away. The way she hugs him close is one of those things.

         Grayson fell hard into love—which wasn’t particularly unusual for the hopeless romantic he was, but he always knew Jesse was set apart from the seasonal heartthrobs. He was truly bewitched by her creativity, wanderlust, unapologetic confidence, patience, and beauty.

         An enchantress she was, beautiful beyond anything he could ever deserve. Drop dead gorgeous with the personality to match, there wasn’t a head that didn’t turn when she walked into a room, not a man that didn’t fumble over their words at any opportunity to talk to her, not a woman who didn’t want to be her friend. Sure her beauty was undeniable, but her benevolent heart beat it all.

         He may never know why Jesse had leaned in to kiss him seven months ago save for three days in a hidden corner in Café Verona -- a quaint treasure he’d always hold dear to his heart. Fairy lights criss-crossed along the ceiling, soft Jazz waltzing with the beat of his heart, emerald green leather bench pressing into his thighs. But he’s glad she did. He’s glad she leaned in to kiss him when he’d been building up the nerve for weeks. So afraid to go there but more afraid of not knowing what would happen if he didn’t. He’s glad she took his chin in between her fingers to hold him still enough to feel her lips press to his securely, a warmth swarming in his chest where the heart shaped hole once was.

          If he flipped through the pages of his memory, he would remember a statue-like stillness about him before he sunk into her touch, caging her head in his large careful hands. Feeling the gasp she tried to hide, the smell of grapefruit shampoo and the way her flushed cheeks felt under his stroking thumbs. He would see himself fall into her, around her and through her, off the edge of the rocky cliff and into the dark blissful deep of nothing but her.

          He’d be eternally grateful she looked at him with utmost sincerity and whispered with a raw kind of intensity that he’d “driven her mad you see” -- and he’d heard it then, the brittleness of her voice because fear rattles her to the core, and she had been scared out of her mind. A crack that tracked through her careful confession and to the root of him. Jesse was scared of what he meant, what he was in terms of her heart, what he could be if she continued to kiss him the way she was.

          In that quiet moment he remembered what made her so deeply rooted in his heart: the laugh that rattled him, the soft smell of peaches and vanilla, the way she never drives without sunglasses because her mom who passed away much too early did the same, the dance she does when she finally eats the first bite of food after damn near breaking the world in half in hanger, the way she punches the roof of her car after making it through a yellow light because her best friend in high school did the same, the way she always turns her spoon upside down when eating ice cream, and the way she always has answers for everything no matter what topic, even the way she laughs entirely too hard at Family Feud. 

         For that reason alone he waited for the physical parts to come when they may. It was new and exciting sure, and he’d always loved her heart of course, but her body was uncharted territory. He was patient, yes. A gentleman guarding some assumed virtue, even if he knew better than to think she was anything but a seductress. Patient enough to tell her no when she’s had one too many drinks and not enough discipline. They’d been friends before anything else - the best of friends with a foundation of trust. He’s spent years trying to gain that trust and he vowed to keep it.

          Of course he could have been that guy on many occasions: possessive, selfish, greedy and crude. He could have played his cards and dealt his dirty hand at the wrong moment and still pulled out ahead. I mean hell, how often do guys get out of the friend-zone? But he wasn’t that guy. No matter the relationship status — they weren’t ready.

         They hadn’t been ready to cross that carefully drawn line in the sand, not until now. With the strawberry White Barn candle burning in the corner on the cluttered desk one could expect from a college student and a half full can of Arizona tea on the night stand...her face lit with a mystical kind of magic he’d only ever seen the day she leaned back after their first official kiss. 

         “Hold my hair.”

         Grayson found the words slipping off his tongue easier than they’d come all night. All he’s planned on was a simple date in the park that was tucked away and secluded from all the people that could interrupt, he’d even brought her favorite book and laid back on a soft patch of grass to listen to her melodic voice read to him. He’d planned to come back and share a peck or two while watching a new episode of Daredevil and holding her through the night. She’d had a long day full of texts to him, trying to get him to give her the okay to walk out of her low-paying job and not look back. He never planned on laying her down on his bed and caressing every inch of her skin until he was finally delving into a place he’d never been quite like this.

          He was nervous but he could do anything, be anything with her hand in his hair and her kind eyes watching him defile her. He just knew from this moment on he would have a reputation to uphold, as cocky as it sounded. He had to prove he wasn’t as lost as he felt. He felt like a virgin all over again, like he was doing something raw and real and scary. A secret only the wrinkled sheets would remind him of later.

          Her touch, her soothing him through something that frightened him has always been a crutch for him to lean on. When he got in a fight with his brother, she was there to comb through his hair and talk him through the proper apology, when he decided to change majors and had a breakdown so crippling he couldn’t breathe she rocked him through it until his breath was even once again, when he wrecked his new car on the way home from a party he never should have been at she was right there to give him a kiss on the cheek and help him call the insurance company and his erratic mother who loved her like a daughter. She led him through the rough parts of life and then some.

           He never imagined she would be leading him through something so sensual, but he needed her bringing him back to earth all the same.

          Jesse obliged with a grin of her own, feeling him shuffle down to trail a string of kisses across her torso and down to the base of her need and desire. The fireball of want burned in her stomach, turning her rational thoughts brown and charred. He was good at that, making her need him fiercely. She’d never wanted anyone so much, and even if she thinks back to past flings - she’d never been satisfied like she was with Grayson, and they’d done much less.

         “What are you thinking?” Jesse wonders, distracted by his soft supple lips and his nibbling at her hip, but wanting to hear the inner workings of his brain. Her fingers fidget, wanting to push him by his brown mop of hair down lower - just to feel him at last. She needed this distraction, she just needed his help to forget. Not that she hadn’t been waiting for months for this exact moment, there was just urgency in the way she’s stripped herself bare before him. 

          She almost expects him to wait for her direction, but jerks against him when he takes the lead all on his own. How could he not with her as his complete mercy, giving him the fuck me eyes and twisting a lock if hair around her finger? 

          Grayson thinks on that as he trails his mouth down, down, down to slick his tongue up the base of her, smirking to himself when she wiggles against him. “I’m thinking that I like you this way.”

          The contact was a shock to her nervous system and a promise of what was soon to come if she kept tempting him the way she was. She was a heathen with angel eyes. Someone infatuated with his innocence (at least he was more innocent than she) and curiosity to learn every curve and dip of her body. He made her feel powerful, unstoppable, undeniable. She craved it as much as he craved her own lips tracking across his skin - in the heat of the moment or in the still of the night.

          “Naked you mean?” She laughs then, trying to keep herself at least somewhat under control now that he’s grown some balls and taken the first step. She’s shocked momentarily that she didn’t have to practically order him into touching her.

           She grips her breasts at another bold swipe of his tongue. Rolling her hardened nipples between her fingers and tensing at the sparks flying up her center. The feeling of him spreading her open, blowing against her throbbing clit is almost too much to bear. Jesse curses then, a soft “fuck” she tries to reel back before he gets too big of a head. She knows it fell on eager ears when he delivers another bold stripe of his tongue up her center -- slow and deliberate. 

           “Unguarded,” he finally grumbles, rubbing away the goosebumps that pepper her thighs. She thinks for a moment that she could gave turned off the ceiling fan circling over top of them, but feared she might burn up if it wasn’t for the white blades blowing on her crown of hair going every which way on the pillow. 

          She ignores how right he is - that she’s never been this vulnerable with him before, but instead rolls her eyelids shut to feel him really delve into her - opening his mouth and pressing his tongue to her flat. This is just what she needed, her favorite person trying something new and succeeding at it. 

            For someone that’s never given head, he was pulling it off. He was going to ruin her.

           Glancing down at the yellow glow of the lamp illuminating the right side of his face, Jesse curled her fingers into his plush head of hair once again, somewhere between heaven and hell with no real knowledge of the difference.

           She moans at his lips wrapping around her, the suction to her lower region and the way his thumbs dig into her skin to hold her in place. No running this time, she had no choice but to feel it all. This is what she wanted right? 

          “This feel okay?” he teases, tentatively trailing the tip of his tongue around the place she wanted most. He loved to see her eyes alight with that devilish incomprehensible lust. He was truly winging it, doing anything he’d heard from friends or watched himself late at night, anything to further her soft pants and moans tumbling out of her O shaped mouth. She was too good to be true and felt like one lucky bastard. 

           Nodding down to him she groans, wanting him latched to her. “M-more than okay just keep going.”

          He never knew it could feel so pleasurable to be the giver and not the receiver nine times out of ten. He didn’t know how selfish he’d been and the opportunities he'd missed to feel compliant and...obedient. He liked it. He loved it. He loved the position he was in - her looking down at him like the goddess she was and always had been, him crouching down at the end of the bed to devour her in the best way he could, his hair disheveled, eyes dark with hunger, hands gripping her tight.

          He lets instinct take the wheel, peppering kisses to her clit and bringing his own  hand down to slip in a finger to add extra stimulation - pleased when Jesse releases another string of curses. Fowl language huh? Wonder what she’d do if he stopped-

          “You’re such a dick-“ she tugs at his roots, rolling her hips into his mouth that savors  her now, lips slick with her wetness. She tasted good, he’d concluded. It wasn’t anything like what he imagined it would be, no, it was better. It felt better than all of the horror stories he’d made up in his head. He’s sure if he wanted to - he could stay right down between her legs for hours -- until his lips were sore and his tongue tired. Stopping wasn’t an option. Not when she’s been waiting so long, fantasized too often. She huffs out again “Thought you’ve never done this before.”

            That must be a good sign, right?

           “Never,” he slurps at her, shaking his head and groaning into her core. He felt the slickness of her on his cheeks now. Bowing down to eat her out was harder than it looked, especially with back problems as it was. 

            Focused and drunk on Jesse’s gentle hip thrust into his mouth he hugs her thighs and stands upright, just off the edge of the bed, bringing her lower half up in the air with him. He can feel her trembling now, wide eyes gleaming at him with surprise and delight at the new and better position.

            She was losing it. She’d had him compliant at first, her soft-hearted boyfriend trying something new...but damn he was tugging the ropes from between her fingers and leading her to a path less traveled. Quick learner he was.

           “Grayson put me down! Have you lost your mind?” Jesse squealed, grinning at his closed eyes and moving lips, deaf to her antics. She was expected something quick, maybe even simple, but him switching up positions was not in the game plan as great as it was. 

           She could see it now, the guy that was always hiding just beneath the surface. She could see how her sounds urged him on and made him try harder. She could see his arms shaking from the weight of her legs and the effort it took to hold her pussy as close to him as he could. She could feel the heavy breath fanning out across her pelvis from his nose. She could feel the tickle of his hair dangling down and whispering across the skin of her stomach. She could feel that same ball of fire seated in her stomach slip lower and lower with each passing second - until the words that fell out of her mouth were nothing but strings of profanity would make a sinner blush.

             It was going to sear her in half, that fucking ball of fire. Hot lava stirring up a flood she couldn’t stop. It was splitting her in half just as his digits were now, pumping into her hard and fast, curling at his knuckles. His rings gleam from the yellow lamp-light and shock her when they touch her dewy skin. She had lost all sense of control.

            Hearing his own moans, hearing how desperate he was to keep eating her pussy and make her feel better than anyone had, got her inching towards the edge. It was a low kind of growl itching at his throat.

            The taste of her blurred his senses, the soft smell of her making his mind spin out of control, the tightening walls of her cunt around his fingers fucking her fast, the light sheen of sweat that glowed in the dim light of his room - he was a madman with no direction but forward. He had to keep going, for stopping would surely break them both. He would love to tease her, but knew if he stopped one more time she would kill him in a heartbeat. 

          “Open your fucking eyes and watch me.” He barked down to her, stopping only for a moment to glare at her. His fingers continued their fast paced in and out, in and out, in and out.

                         He’d figured if he was going to take it all the way, he needed to pull every string. Needed to pull out the nasty daydreams and make them a reality. This is something he would have for keeps. Something he’d want to do over and over, something he couldn’t wait to do again. Something he’d want to remember. 

          Peeling her eyes open she sobbed at the sight of him spitting into her pussy with a smile, staring at her darkly. Light eyes blacked into pits he ruined her through and through. He had to be lying, he just had to be.

          “Fast learner,” Grayson sneers, leaning forward to smear his saliva around her slick folds, arms circling her midsection to hold her close again.

           “ Fuckfuckfuckfuck- keep fu- keep going!” Jesse begs, barely holding on to the light threatening to slip away into the fire burning her up. “Doing so good Gray, so fucking good.”

             She had discovered soon in the relationship and the minimal sexual acts they’d indulged in that Grayson was a man that adored praise. He wanted someone to tell him how good he was doing, even if he already knew it. He wanted someone to look him in the eyes just as she was doing now and watch him succeed. He wanted complete undivided attention, verbal acknowledgment. 

              He sucked at her still, sliding his tongue into her quickly then — remembering someone in a poorly shot amateur porn video did the same to the tatted up blonde he was practically fucking to death, and hoped it would have the same effect on his beautiful princess begging for him to keep going. He kept note while he watched the video, knowing one day he would be standing where he is now relishing in the gold mine that belonged to him. He fucker her with his tongue, humming into her cunt for the added stimulation. 

               Fuck all she was the end of him. “Pretty pussy all wet for me, yeah? Want to cum? Bet you doubt me huh? Thought I wouldn’t do you right…”

               He chucked at the vigorous nodding of her head, the eyes rolling in the back of her head, the hand that leaves his hip to pull at her own hair. Her eyes squeezing shut in panic now that she feels the tip of the iceberg coming up fast. 

               “Don’t even know how crazy you drive me, how long I’ve wanted to do this to you.”

               Hearing him admit it only made her thighs quiver against his strong arms, only made her want more, made her creep dangerously close to the edge she was for once in her life afraid to fall off of. The crash into the sea would be the biggest shock she’s ever had. Jesse tried to focus on her breathing, trading the heaving for squealing when he dipped his tongue in her entrance to give her something to fantasize about. She’d never had someone tongue fuck her, let alone stair into her soul while they did it. 

              Fuck he was good. Too fucking good.

             “Baby you have t-to slow down,” she warns, the big splash terrifying and so close. He was a wicked man for doing just the opposite, spreading her legs wider and shaking his head against her again, eyes squeezed shut like he knew what would happen in only a few seconds.

               “Grayson step back,” she tried to warn more firmly, afraid of the unfamiliar feeling of something new about to happen, embarrassed already but too worked up to stop it. “Shit - Grayson step back!”

                And there it was, the strongest orgasm she’d ever had and certainly the wettest. Her release soaked the bed beneath, sheets spotted with her arousal and breath stolen from her lungs. She’s not sure when Grayson had dropped her, or whether her convulsing body wiggled out of his grasp during the black out she’d just had. She was spread on the bed in her own mess, her chest flushed, damp hair stuck to her forehead in waves, vision blurred, eyelids drooping in exhaustion, hand somehow in Graysons.

              He’s there then. He’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, his hand a ghost on her forehead brushing away those tendrils of hair, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles with tender care, his lips smoothing the furrow of her brows. Grayson is lifting her without a word, caging her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and smoothing her head against his chest to feel the weight of her there - just to feel the heat of her consume him.

              “Holy fuck,” she breathes, spent. 

              “I hope it wasn’t too much,” he whispers into her hair, hand smoothing over the locks while rocking her around the room, mind racing with every image of what he’d just done and the feeling of complete bliss flooding his body.

                He’s almost worried she fell asleep in his arms until he feels the shaking he can only assume is laughter, before she’s hugging him tighter. “Idiot. I can’t believe you’ve never done that. And I can’t believe I’m this tired. Feel like a rookie.”

               “Guess I passed the test then?”

               “Flying colors.”

                Jesse nuzzles in as far as she can, tucking in her arms against his chest and letting the state of Nirvana wash over her. With a sigh Jesse thinks over the shocking events of her boyfriend being 100% nastier than she’d initially thought — not that she’s complaining.

               She barely remembers Grayson running a bath, or setting her in the steaming tub with a kiss, or waiting for him to strip the bed with a giddiness sitting in his chest at all that they’d done, barely remembers him joining her in the tub and catching soap in the calm of his hand to smith the suds over her post-sex body. That’s the only way she would describe herself in the moment, her skin felt sensitive to the touch, sparks still shooting through her with the feeling of his hands on her.

             What Jesse does remember is laying with Grayson in a bed freshly made, arm draped over his stomach, head resting against his arm, lips peppering kisses against his chest randomly through-out the night. She remembers the feeling of adoration and understanding. What they’d done was both the most foul thing she’d ever done, but also the most liberating and beautiful experience. To lose yourself in another person in such a way that you’re utterly consumed by them was...foreign to the pair laying together in the still of the night.

              Jesse waited until Grayson was softly snoring until she said the only thing she’d never had the guts to tell him in the months they’d been dating. He’d been waiting on it patiently. It was different between friends, but it meant so much more when you don't want to say it to anyone else for the rest of your life. The moment she says it, she can’t ever take it back. Maybe that’s why she chooses the early hours of the morning to lean in and press her lips against his feather soft, blinking back the mist clouding her vision. 

              “Don’t know if you could tell...but I'm kind of in love with you...so just be patient with me please I’m trying for you.”

              Maybe she would get the guts one day to say the words while he’s awake, maybe face to face or with the lights off because she has some kind of comfort in the dark, or maybe it would slip out on accident. In any way that it happens, she hopes he will smile. She hopes that he knows how insanely incandescently happy he makes her each and every day, and how honored she feels that she got to experience another first with him.She hopes he will be comforted that his feelings are 100% reciprocated. She hopes that she gets to see that beautiful  smile he wears on special occasions -- the true smile that he doesn't show too often. For now she presses her lips to his once again, smiling softly as the slow ride and fall of his chest, arm holding her close, the ring she won him out of a shitty machine in the corner of a tattoo shop he’d stopped into on a whim secured on a thin chain around his neck, and the fluttering of his eyelashes while he dreamed. 

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Royal Rakshasa Guard (Aureus)

Relationship: Male Monster x Female Reader

Summary: Out and about when you weren’t supposed to be, you get caught by one of your favourite guards.

The Gilded Guard

One then two then three.

The blade swished and moved around you, whipping around your head, but the two of you were one and melding together. Like a leaf, it could sway and float in the air without disrupting those around it, one with a serene atmosphere. You had heard this before, but not intentionally.

Sweat built on your forehead, seeping into your hairline as you continued to keep in time with the beats of every hit: dodging and weaving as your opponent continued with their attacks. You were lucky for the helmet guarding your face for protection and recognition, the head of your King father’s military was relentless when it came to training rookies, and not once did he seem to slacken.

“Again,” his voice was strained from the possible exhaustion. “Up, on your feet—widen your stance, boy.”

“Sir.” You obeyed gruffly, your short posture seemed to help keep your balance for the most parts, but you found yourself constantly being thrown off your feet every so often. It was no wonder Aureus was the perfect fit to be your personal guard: protective, loyal and true, looking for the best of everyone around him but himself.

The sword in hand wasn’t as long and sweeping compared to his spear, easily able to knock you off and hit in places where you knew it would leave bruises. But for every hit meant it would be easy to shake off the fall. Get up, up before he strikes you whilst you’re still down.

His golden eyes seemed to mistakenly hold some pity for you, not as much as all the other times you had trained. To him, some lackey who was shorter and skinnier than all the other boys appeared out of nowhere, a wooden sword in hand and always wearing a helmet. The only thing he could see where your eyes: bright and eager, your small exterior attempted to hold some power when you spoke that one early morning in the training yard.

‘I require a shield and sword. Mornings before dawn for your lessons so you teach me to become a warrior.’

“Twist your arm more—turn into the strikes—yes, better. Again.” Your personal guard was as tall and lean as any other knight of a high rank: dressed in the shining armour that held no scratch nor scrape to the material, as clean and glistening as golden coins. His name held a fitting meaning.

Marvelling at his looks didn’t help you allow to concentrate, subsequently, the earth met your body as you crumpled to the ground with a grunt, squeezing the wind out your lungs. You attempted to get back up again, the soreness to your body didn’t help when all you wanted was a hot bath for your muscles, but Aureus dismissed you. “We finish for this morning, lad.”

“But I’m far from done,” you caught your breath, panting. “Do we not have another 5 minutes, Sir?”

The Rakshasa’s charisma grew on the broadness of his smile, his face relaxing with ease. “I must attend to the Princess, she will be up and ready for her sewing by now. I must leave, until tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You realised too late, your guard down. “Thank you, Sir. Until tomorrow.” You hurriedly bowed and took off the opposite way, hoping that Aureus didn’t say anything in question. The Rakshasa watched quietly, observing your retreating form as you scurried across the courtyard, opposite to where the barracks of where the recruits stayed. Sighing to himself, he collected the wooden swords and spears back up before making his way to where he needed to go.

Only now did the sun begin to reach the red mountains, kissing the amber sky and reaching towards the town in surrounding golds and oranges. The golden sands surrounding the town grew with life as people grew bustling with their businesses: royal guards swapping in patrol with those of the night-time shift, with the head of the guard greeting those he spotted.

The dusky hues were bold and bright across the empire of sands, glittering brightly like gemstones across the palace tiles, giving the name of the Ruby City a fitting name.

Aureus stretched as he made his way through the courtyard to your apartment, greeting the maids as he passed, approaching your door and knocking curtly. The small “come in!” from the inside brought him to open the large wooden door, greeting you was always a treat for his day.

You always somehow managed to be awake before he arrived: stretched like a cat in the sunlight by the window, calmly and quietly proceeding with your embroidery. What you were sewing was indistinct to Aureus, just from how crooked your stitches were.

“Good morning, Aureus,” you smiled to him earnestly, your cheeks flushed with morning glow. “Had a productive morning so far?”

“So far strenuous, but my morning has brightened by being in your presence.” He greeted, bowing dutifully. His golden armour shone even in the shade of your apartment. “His Grace has asked for your presence for breakfast.”

“Very well.” you hopped down and placed your things down, passing him slowly, almost dragging your body across as if you were in pain. Your knight was quick to notice something was wrong practically immediately, “Princess, are you well?”

“Yes, I just—didn’t sleep very well last night. I will need a bath for my muscles.” You corrected sincerely, though Aureus didn’t respond with your explanation. His ears flattened against his head, his expression drawn from the notion. It was interrupted when he felt you link arms with him. “Come now, let me greet my sisters.”

Your sisters Marguerite and Cassia had been ten-and-two and eight compared to you near to your adulthood. Though they had taken on the more devoted roles of court, they were better ladies compared to you. You would know they would be better rulers compared to you when the issue of the throne would one day come.

“Oh, looks who finally decided to join us,” Marguerite was the first to announce your arrival into the large dining hall, smiling when she spotted the Rakshasa behind you. “How was your morning, dear sister?”

“Swell,” you quipped, coming round to kiss your father on the cheek. “What is the agenda today, father?”

“Lords and their sons come from the west in hopes of joining kingdoms through marriage,” the emperor was small and kindly from his seat at the head of the table. “You and Marguerite will be there to welcome our guests, and I shall match you with suitable sons.”

Your smile dropped from your face and you silently took your seat, the middle sister being the one to voice her opinions as bitterly as you had been thinking. “I suppose I shall send off my freedom now. At least some people get their freedom now to defy the norms of society.”

“No-one is doing that,” you warned quickly. “We all have our duties as women and young girls. We do what father thinks is suitable for us.”

“Yes, suitable.”

You rose from the table, Aureus was quick to follow you out as you said your excuses of not being hungry, straining in the corset of your dress as you left. You didn’t need to say much to Aureus as you went back into your room, the Rakshasa hovering in the doorway. “Princess?”

“You are free for the rest of the day, Aureus,” you forced a smile, strained as you had been in your clothing. “I don’t think you would want to spend it with me.”

“Quite the contrary, Princess,” he couldn’t help the smile to adorn his features, dazzling teeth on show. “But if you wish for me to leave you be, I shall have someone stand outside your room.”

He bowed courteously, his smile radiant as he took his leave. He would leave you for the rest of the day, knowing that you wouldn’t need him for your studies and lessons, but lingering close by if anything were to happen. Though he knew of your duties that were required, he knew of the love so unrequited that it stung his chest whenever you were nearby. A protective love – perhaps at first – but he saw your drive and wants, your dreams and strength, something that made him swell with pride. Had you been able to marry whoever you wanted, he would’ve been hoping your heart would’ve felt the same for him, but he didn’t believe you felt that same way within your chest.

The next day came and he had left his post earlier than expected, leaving another guard to train the rookies as he had decided to go to your room in hopes of speaking to you about his… feelings. A heartfelt confession, perhaps? No—you could decline his feelings that same day, but there was no hope in trying.

He had reached your apartment with his legs carrying him quickly, knocking once, then twice at the door, loud enough for you to hear, and when he heard movement from the inside, he was left bewildered when the person he wasn’t expecting opened the door.

You were there more ready than he had expected for the day, your hair tied in a neat knot, bare with little makeup on that you were required to wear at court. You seemed just as stunned to see him there, rigid in place with what you were wearing. Instead of wearing the normal heavy garments, you were dressed in boy’s trousers, a training doublet and breastplate were too bulky on you and hid your lithe figure, making you appear more boyish to what you normally wore. In your grip was the same helmet the boy he trained wore, tarnished and beaten with age.

You seemed to be outweighing whether to speak or close the door on him, your eyes shifting, “I can explain.”

“Oh,” Aureus piqued, a smile growing. “Knowing that you were the one that punched that boy’s tooth out makes this a whole lot better.”

“Please, Aureus. Don’t tell my father—if he were to hear of this-” your eyes were wide and frantic, but he was quick to step in and close the door so no soul could hear. “He will not be pleased if he finds out.”

“He doesn’t need to know, Princess,” the Rakshasa assured slowly, taking your hand into his, kneading your fingers carefully. “I will not tell a soul.”

You looked at your hands connected with awe, your eyes searching his own for something you didn’t know, but there seemed to be relief bubbling over the surface of your vague expression. “If there is one thing I must ask, would you continue doing something for me?”

“Continue what, Princess?”

“Continue training with me,” you hushed, squeezing at his paw. “I do not want to stop something like this with you. Even if I must cover my face, I do not want to lose this opportunity.”

Aureus’ laugh was full of mirth, gently bringing you to him in a reassuring hug, nudging you with his head. “Then this will not stop, my Princess.”

-

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[thewitchofbooks]

Hiii gorg I love your style of writing 😳👍 can you maybe write about ikepri suitors in the modem world? Just general stuff like what music would they like or what jobs do you see them working? Anything that you find fit tbh

You're amazing, stay safe and well <3

Hi!!!Thank you for the compliments and the request, i really appreciate it!It took me some time to write for all of them, so i apologize!Please, keep in mind that i don’t know everything about the characters and they might be ooc.I hope you like it~

Type: Headcanons, Modern AU

Game: Ikemen Prince

Characters: All characters

Warnings: Spoilery, characters might be ooc, not the best out there, haha, mentions of alcohol (trigger warning), not the best english (especially with many words).

I’ll write their favourite music, dressing style (both casual and formal), their jobs, their hobbies, their favourite type of food and their favourite drink(s).Keep in mind that these are not all real, i just think they would like these.Thank you!

~Clavis Lelouch

Favourite type of music:Clavis hears anything that sounds good.He can go from pop, to rock, to metal and everything in between.Sometimes, he likes to play songs, like twinkle twinkle little star and he sings it in a childish voice, just to annoy his big bro, Chevalier.Chevalier probably threw a vase full of cold water on him.He would have thrown more, but he doesn’t like wasting precious water for the “laughing clown’s” idiocity.

Dressing style (1~casual):Clavis likes to wear fashionable clothes with lots of twists.He probably wears animal printed clothes and accessories, like a leopard printed hat or coats.For a more casual outfit, he wears a white button up shirt tucked in black skinny jeans and he tops it of with a leather biker-style black jacket (if it’s cold).                                                               (2~formal):For formal wear, he chooses a purple stripped button up shirt with a light grey vest and light grey pants.He puts on a grey long coat to finish it up.

Job:Clavis works as a spy for the Cyber Crime Division.He seems like a maniac to his coworkers, but they know how good he is at what he does.Also, he is good at spying his brother and he sees it as exercise.

Hobbies:Clavis’s hobbies are:drinking smoothies, while spying Chevalier, annoying Chevalier (especially when he is tired) and making things (because he is good with his hands).Clavis doesn’t have a lot of time for himself, but when he does, he makes sure to spend it doing all these things.

Favourite type of food:Clavis loves sweets and junk food.It was a rare treat when he was younger, but now he can eat them.At least, he prefers a healthier version like, fruits on top pf his sweets and salads as side dishes for the food.

Favourite drink(s):This man loves starbucks.He doesn’t drink alcohol due to personal reasons, so he buys them everyday.He buys unicorn coloured drinks & sweets and he tries to give some of them to Cheva.It doesn’t work.

~Chevalier Michel

Favourite type of music:Chevalier listens to classical, rock and metal.He likes songs with deep meaning, because it makes him think/daydream in his free time.He also plays the piano and violin, which got him into classical music.Sometimes, he is forced to here Clavis’s loud stereo, so he hears childish songs and he gets mad.

Dressing style (1~casual):Chevalier wears a white turtleneck shirt, black skinny pants and a long black coat.He also wears black reading glasses.He doesn’t like having a lot of strange addings on his clothes, because he likes being fancy, without being too much.                                 (2~formal):Chevalier chooses suits, which fit perfectly on his body.On top of his suits, he likes wearing black or while long coats and a pair of gloves in the same colour.He always has a golden pin with chains on, which keeps his tie straight and neat.

Job:Cheva works as an Army Strategist and as a Defence Minister.All the people trust him, so they voted for him.He was already a strong man before, but now he became even more, to help protect his country and those in need.

Hobbies:Chevalier, naturaly, loves to read romance novels.His mansion has two rooms as libraries.He also keeps shelves of books in his room.Another thing he likes is learning more and more (languages and other things), because he is fast at learning and they might come in handy.

Favourite type of food:Chevalier doesn’t care much, though he prefers eating foods with a lot of protein and vitamins.He is used to eating mostly these types of food, because of his work.He sometimes eats sweets, but never the unicorn ones Clavis tries to feed him.

Favourite drink(s):Cheva is not a big fan of alcohol.Alcohol has a lot of bad sugars for his health and he also doesn’t like getting drunk.Especially when he works.He drinks plenty of water and tea.

~Luke Randolph

Favourite type of music:Luke listens to pop and classical music.If he likes a song that is different, he is going to hear that as well.He doesn’t really care, but he prefers soft and gentle sounds.

Dressing style (1~casual):Luke picks long green t-shirts with V-Neck as a top and dark purple sweatpants as bottoms.On top of all that, he wears an oversized dark grey jacket.He likes those colours, because they remind him of the forest and nature in general.                                                         (2~formal):Luke wears a grey button up shirt in a pair of grey jeans.He tops it off with a stylish but still comfortable grey jean jacket.

Job:This tall gentleman loves honey, so he decided to work as an apriarist.Not only does he help feed and keep safe as many honey bees as he can, he takes the honey away without hurting them or destroying their houses (beehives).

Hobbies:One of Luke’s hobbies is helping and playing with the forest animals.These animals are drawn to him and want his attention.He puts water and food all over the place, so they can find it easily and get ready for the cold weather.

Favourite type of food:Of course, his favourite food is honey.It had to do with a lot of hard things he went through in his past and he doesn’t want to forget.It’s also sweet and healthy, so he prefers it.He also likes homecooked meals, because they are warm and he feels safe.

Favourite drink(s):Luke’s favourite drinks are tea and milk.These drinks are both warm and sweet (he drowns them in honey).They are perfect for a cold day and a hot day.All the stress goes away and he is calm again.

~Leon Dompteur

Favourite type of music:Leon listens to alternative rock and pop.He likes to dance around in his days off, when he is at home.He goes to a lot of concerts with a few of his brothers to enjoy a night out.The music he hars goes well with his personality and he always has fun.

Dressing style: (1~casual):Leon lives for more casual outfits that are different from the stiff clothes he wears at work.He goes for a black t-shirt that shows his abs and black pants that hug his waist.He is naturally warm, so he believes he doesn’t need a jacket.                                            (2~formal):Leon wears a black turtleneck shirt and black or dark grey pants.Sometimes, he puts on a dark grey suit jacket to look even better.

Job:Leon works with Chevalier as an Army Strategist.He gets well with the soldiers and they follow all his commands.He knows his brother is harsh, but he informs the new soldiers how much he cares for their country.

Hobbies:Leon’s hobby is having fun with his loved ones.He’ll prefer social gatherings and talking with people.He is easy to talk to, so his family gets together because of him.He might enjoy dancing, so he could be ready to impress his lover.

Favourite type of food:Yves’s baking/cooking.Not only does the food he makes tastes good, it’s also very fun to tease him.Sometime, he dines outside.If a person he loves makes food, he’ll eat it without much care if it tastes good.He is happy they did it.

Favourite drink(s):Leon can drink nearly everythinng.He can go from drinking alcohol with Jin, to drinking tea and milk with Luke.He doesn’t want to get drunk, because it’s bad for his job and his health, so he doesn’t do it too much.

~Yves Kloss

Favourite type of music:Yves listens to whatever sounds good and has style.He secretly listens to meme cat meowing his favourite songs.He learns the choreography in every song that has one.If his brotherd catch him doing that, he tries to deny it while blushing.

Dressing style (1~casual):Yves wears skinny black jeans with cuts on the knees and a pink oversized sweater.On top, he wears a grey cardigan.His clothes look big on him and it makes him look cuter.                                    (2~formal):He wears a white button up shirt, tucked in grey pants.He wears different coloured ties, but prefers pink, grey or black ones.He also wears a pink suit jacket.He likes being stylish in everything he does.

Job:Yves works at a pet shop.All the pets that live in here love him.The people that want to buy a animal have to watch him trying to put the animals in their (boxes/the things they put them in when they go somewhere).The animals are cuddling him and pawing at his cheeks.Yves is happy they found a home, but he is also sad, because he liked playing with them (even if that meant getting teased by his brothers).Yves secretly works as a stylist and he sketches clothes for women and men.

Hobbies:Yves hobbies have to do with beauty.He changes hairstyles or he goes shopping for clothes and accessories.He is calming down whenever he does that.Yves also enjoys doing new things, like joining art classes (painting, writing, dancing).

Favourite type of food:Yves loves cakes with fruits on top.He likes it when fresh berries are used to make them.They are not too sweet, but they live a nice taste in his mouth.He eats other foods, of course, because he knows that he has to be healthy.He eats for every meal of the day.He scolds Clavis for his choices and is discusted with his eating habits.He also cooks for himself (and some of his brothers).

~Nokto Klein

Favourite type of music:Nokto listens to pop (because most of the explicit songs he likes are pop).His tastes may change, but it also depends on his mood.If he is in a certain mood, being withh his lover and all, he stays with his normal choices.

Dressing style (1~casual):For a more casual look, he braids one side of his hair and it goes up in a high ponytail.He wears grey skinny jeans and a baby blue t-shirt.If it becomes too cold, he’ll get a white jacket.                    (2~formal):Nokto can go from a total white look to a white and baby blue look.He’ll choose a blue tie, with a white button up shirt and white pants.Nokto will take a white suit jacket on his shoulders and it’s kept on it’s place by a silver chain.

Job:I can see most of the brothers working together, so he’ll probably would be a spy for the Army, set by Chevalier himself.He is not scared to do reckless things and get in trouble.He knows how to keep secrets from the others.

Hobbies:Nokto’s hobbies are learning things about other people and most of all, what his lover enjoys.He likes trying new things with his S/O, that both are comfortable with.Another hobby of his is annoying and teasing his brothers that don’t want that don’t want that type of attention.

Favourite type of food:Nokto enjoys sweet, salty and savoury foods.Of course, there are some that make him feel better than others, so he prefers them.He finds some foods amusing, like the rainbow coloured ones and he wants to try them.

Favourite drink(s):If he is not at work, he likes strong liquor, but when it’s work related he’ll drink something softer and give the strong drinks to his enemies.That doesn’t stop him from enjoying drinks like sodas.Nokto tries Clavis’s favourite drinks, but he isn’t the biggest fan.

~Licht Klein

Favourite type of music:To most, Licht seems like a very quiet guy, but the music he likes isn’t always like that.He listens to every type of rock, pop and hip hop music.He is someone that likes the deep meaning every song has and he always remembers their lyrics.

Dressing style (1~casual):Licht has an angelic face and he knows what goes better with that.He wears a white oversized button up shirt with baby blue buttons in the middle and light blue skinny jeans.                                  (2~formal):For formal wear, Licht chooses a blue-grey suit, a yellow bowtie with a red ruby in the middle.On top, he wears a grey cardigan to keep himself warm.

Job:Licht is a soldier, who is not afraid to lose his life.Just like his twin, he doesn’t care about doing reckless things, because he lives for others, mostly.He doesn’t show that he cares for his brothers, but it can be seen.

Hobbies:For Licht, martial arts is the way to relax.Marial arts are not for fighting and killing someone.The first thing you learn is to keep yourself calm and then safe in front of difficult situations.That’s what Licht likes, so he follows it.Other things Licht likes to do is sing lullabies from his childhood and dance hip hop.

Favourite type of food:Licht absolutely loves sweets.Tarts full of chocolate, berries and other fruits are to die for.Sometimes, he secretly wants to eat Yves’s cakes, so he pouts at him, which always works to his favor.

Favourite type of drink(s):He doesn’t drink too much, he prefers water, tea and milk.First of all, it’s easier to drink them when eating.Second of all, he doesn’t want to get drunk (he doesn’t know if he can hold it).

~Sariel Noir

Favourite type of music:Sariel has gone through so much stress, so he just listens to screamo.If he feels better, he’ll hear to classical music while sipping his tea.He won’t say no to a new beat, but he’ll hear it if he can hear the voice clearly (so he can judge).

Dressing style (1~casual):If Sariel has time to go out without having to care for his work (or babysitting the brothers), he’ll wear a black, long sleeved shirt tucked in a nice pair of black pants.                                         (2~formal):He wears a black button up shirt with a silky red tie.He prefers black suits to go with, which have red details on top.He is stylish and he believes that black goes with everything.

Job:Sariel is a babysitter.Just kidding.He works as a Judge.He is amazing and fast.He knows when people feel guilty and it’s easy to find who is at fault.Definitely takes a lot of painkillers for those headaches.

Hobbies:He plays every classical music instruments when he has free time.He learned to play when he was younger and it always calmed him down.He also enjoys reading books (classic literature).

Favourite type of food:Sariel eats healthy most of the time, but he has cheat days.He can relax and eat sweets and junk food, while watching a movie or eating with company.

Favourite drink(s):Sariel drinks alcohol, not until he is completely wasted.He enjoys drinking if the company is good.But he prefers drinking tea and relaxing by his own.

~Rio Ortiz

Favourite type of music:Rio listens to everything.And by everything, i mean everything.He doesn’t care if the voices are clean or good, he is just happy to have something to hear.If his future S/O has a fave, then it’ll become his fave as well.

Dressing style (1~casual):Rio works a lot of hours a day, so he doesn’t dress too casual.If he can choose, then he wears blue jeans and coloured t-shirts.(Or a pair of pjs.)                                                                                (2~formal):Rio wears coloured button up shirts and black or white pants and a matching jacket.He doesn’t care much about his style, but he is forced when he works.

Job:Rio works as a lawyer, next to Sariel.He is clever and witty.When the other lawyers face him, they think they have to do with a child, but he is fast at gathering iinformation and he uses it against them.That’s the only reason Sariel keeps him.

Hobbies:Rio searches information about new people he meets, just for fun.He also has a puppy, but it mostly stays with close friends.When he is at home, they cuddle together and he feed it with it’s favourite treats.

Favourite type of food:Rio knows how to cook special meals, so he enjoys eating them.If he is too tired, he’ll eat pizza and he’ll later have some cookies to make himself feel better.

Favourite drink(s):He drinks a small amount of alcohol (to drown his pain).He likes drinking nearly all kind of drinks, even the crazy ones, especially if he has good company to share them.

~Jin Grandet

Favourite type of music:Jin listens to pop songs and the songs that are heard in bar-clubs.Sometimes, he hears the songs his brothers send him in the messenger app they all have.

Dressing style (1~casual):Jin wears forest green shirts or t-shirts and black pants or blue jeans.He might wear t-shirts with tie stamps on them.   (2~formal):He rarely wears formal clothes.He thinks they are too stiff and it’s not easy to move his body.Sadly, Leon takes him on gatherings, where he is forced to dress up.Jin tries on dark blue suits and green button up shirts.

Job:Jin is a bartender.It wasn’t because he liked those places.Not only, at least.He has women with big chests to work around the place.Sometimes, he stops his work, just to look and flirt.

Hobbies:His favourite hobby is staring at chests and have Clavis next to him, telling him that women with beautiful legs are the best.Another hobby of his is making a chaos in his house and calling Yves, only to laugh while he runs away.

Favourite type of food:Jin eats foods with lots of protein.He likes to eat everything tasty.He is one of those that trick Yves into cooking.

Favourite drink(s):Jin is used to drinking alcohol and he doesn’t get drunk easily.He enjoys cocktails from his bar and juices.He is okay with tea as well.

THE END.

NadiaSilver~

AN:Thank you very much for reading, and i’m sorry for repeating so many words!I hope you enjoyed it!Also, my requests are open to everyone!I write for ikemen revolution, ikemen vampire and ikemen prince!

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Sinners in a Pod (Chapter 1)

Updates for this will start posting after Witcher of the Night is finished. So, chapter 1 for this will only be posted right now and shall continue its updates soon. Currently, this is on hiatus. But, please do tell me what you think if you manage to read this! Thank you! 💞

PROLOGUE (Summary)

Characters:  Mob/Professor!Henry Cavill x small!stalker!reader (AU)

Warnings: 18+ Blood. Death. Psychopathic issues. The Mafia. Suggestive content and thinking. Stalker and manipulative reader. The word ‘Daddy’ used in different ways? (I don’t even know why this is a warning?) Y/L/N means Your Last Name. 

Words: 6.3k

A/N: Il babbo means Father and il compagno means comrade. Tell me if I’m wrong, I’m using google translate on this one. Sorry, if I’m making this on a hiatus. I wanna see how this will click for anyone. Also, the Geralt fic comes first because I wanna finish it. Hehehehe.

TAGLIST WILL BE OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! (I hope you would, bb!) IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

9:35 AM.

Mr. Cavill has been well-known in just his first day of becoming the substitute for your previous professor who has died due to an infectious disease that still had no cure. He has been the main topic of every person in the campus. Your professor in History was a complete hot-shot. An additional fact about him being attractive was his unconventional pedagogic style that can get students listening to every word that leaves his mouth, leaving you all wanting to hear more than just his educational discussions.

His presence definitely aroused each and every women's curiosity in your campus; hearing gossips about how they were willing to be the teacher's pet to have a piece of what your professor could offer like he was being treated as a play thing or some sort of food that they wanted to have a taste despite of how indecent it sounded. The hungry felines were willing and taking their chances, seeming to want and do it to also save their grades from their previous quizzes and special tests that they have taken from the deceased professor.

Until, You started to realized that you were even included in one of those students who was thoroughly affected by his presence; lately comprehending that he was being the main image of your filthy fantasies every night.

Especially whenever you notice how he tries to keep eye contact with you whenever he discusses. Your best friend can see how he kept on taking secretive glimpses without anyone noticing. Nonetheless, one person did and he was unlucky to have been caught by your best friend who promised to never lie and keep secrets when it involves you.

Though, there are certain situations that should be kept from her. Specifically the part about what happens every night with the idea of your professor fucking you like he'd never want you to walk for seven days straight.

That kind of fucking where you both can be considered as animals in a rut.

It took one look from your best friend to know that he was staring again. You could imagine his piercing ocean blue eyes that had a speck of brown drowning with it; observing every breath and move you make under those black spectacles of his. Curly hair gelled back looking professional but so tempting to be yanked hard.

You suddenly shook your head at the thought, blinking hard while you tried to keep focus on your paper.

Your best friend was done with her pre-test, but you weren't. She kept on silently but repeatedly snapping her fingers under her desk, giving you a signal that he was doing it again. You tried hard ignoring your best friend who was just clearly beside you; bringing you into a much more dangerous scenario by having your test incomplete or rather receiving a failing grade that would make you repeat this subject again.

Then, you'd remember the professor who could get you writhing under his gaze. He was also one of your fantasies---the one and only who could get you off every night---though, leaving you insatiable and craving for more.

Immodest thinking, but it was worth it every time you came.

"Daddy's lookin' again, hunny! Oh, teach me your ways, please! I would so let him fuck my ass raw, I tell you," She whisper-yelled knowingly. Only silence can be heard from around the four corners of the room, constant pages being flipped one by one, triggering you into panicking more than you should because you were still stuck on page one. You eyed the multiple choice that was written. 'Is it A? B? Or C?'

Your eyes narrowed on your test paper, struggling to think of an answer for the last question of the first page. The pen in your hand stopped on letter B, and in one quick motion. You encircled the whole letter before turning to the next page in a jiffy, never thinking whether your answer was right or wrong.

A small creak from your best friend's chair caught your attention, half on the test and half on your noisy best friend; seeming to be the person who was asking you answers when you haven't even finished the damned test yet.

"Psst! Bitch!"

You've sighed an exasperated one from being constantly distracted by everyone and especially from the penetrating gaze you could feel whenever Mr. Cavill tries to check on how everyone was doing from his desk.

"Ms. Rodriguez, I would rather like it if you try and keep your hands on your desk when you're done with the test,"

All together, the whole class turned their heads towards your best friend who had a panicking, shocked look written on her face. Her eyes seeming to tell she was guilty of trying to distract you while you answer the paper at hand. She evidently gulped, nodding silently and tentatively slipping her palms across her desk like a child getting a scolding. Embarrassment filling her body, the paper beneath her hands appearing to be more interesting rather than the gossip she ought to tell.

Mr. Cavill looked to be insouciant from her tricks, His eyes completely blank, cochineal lips forming a thin line from what he had in mind, "You all have thirty minutes left," the suave and sophisticated twang of his accent got you shifting in your seat. His baritone timbre that kept you up every night; never failing to give your core a throb whenever you get to listen to it personally rather than imagining it had you fidgeting with the sharp ends of your test paper.

He leaned back in his seat, the obvious bulk in his arms protruding once it was crossed. Your professor had always wore that extra tight, white dress shirt despite how it was popping out due to his sinewy biceps. The thatch of his chest hair slipping above the second to the last button of his clothing. You knew he was jacked in the flesh, the filament of his muscles straining out of his clothing which gives you images of what he could be like when he was stark-naked.

You had a bad habit of daydreaming in the wrong time.

Those Lapis Lazuli were brilliant under the morning sunlight that was escaping through the windows. Those eyes that you've been able to memorize landed on you, a sudden jolt in your insides made you feel warm and tingly.

"Please, do finish the test before the time is up, Students."

You were the first to break his gaze, the papers were an important matter and you didn't want to fail. Reason to that is because you didn't want to disappoint him by giving him a result that could make him think that you were never actually have been listening to his lessons and have just been daydreaming about his pretty little mouth on yours every day.

It was illicit of you to even think about having his mouth on yours or all over your body, exploring you till his curiosity would be answered and the same goes to yours. The devil was probably grinning in hell because of how risquè your thoughts have been.

Your soul was probably going to burn in hell.

Yet, on second thought; all seemed to be worth it.

Especially when you've been trying to stalk him for about two weeks already.

You haven't been caught yet; but, the idea of being collared seem to be a prize when you were a sinner.

10:05 AM.

"Time's up, everyone." Mr. Cavill's smooth, reverberant voice made you jump in your seat. You were only on the third page of your test and there were three pages left. The sheer frustration went to your head, emitting a vocal groan and a hard bite on your dried up lips. Every loud beat of your heart made your hand tremble in panic. Your eyes skimmed through every question, randomly circling any letter as long as you get to finish the damn test and not be left alone. Despite how anxious it made you feel, deep inside; you knew you were anticipating such a moment.

"Its time to pass your papers. Get your bags and you can go, I'll be seeing you guys tomorrow," He spoke in a monotone manner, his chair creaking once he stood up tall and lusty, grabbing onto the pile of papers, neatly stocking every test one by one with those hefty, streaking fingers of his as each student passed by in front of him. Some women slyly sparing him a glance, trying to check him out and that outstanding derriere of his as they smirked and quietly giggled on their way out.

Your tall, lanky but quite fit block mate stood along the threshold. His bright hazel eyes, tanned skin and dark red lips drawn with a grin as he held onto nothing but his pen; known to be a nerd but also a philanderer who had innocuous looks that appeared to be like he spends his time nose diving in games and books, "Have a great day, Mr. Cavill!"

"You too, Brent."

You could feel your breath shortening, grappling to answer your test urgently. Your breath hitched when somebody tapped your shoulder, you turned to look at the person you were expecting, but was left disappointed when you saw your best friend eyeing your papers; scrutinizing everything inside her head.

"Oh, you're doomed, Y/N." She inspected your answers and observed how her brows raise in an uncanny way, obtrusively telling that your answers were beyond incorrect. There were still students inside the room, slowly taking their time to leave before undergoing another set of lessons to be learned soon from their other professors.

"---I'll get going now, see you later, Chiquitita!"

She didn't even gave you a chance to ask some answers to your tests. What are friends even for?

Once the door was shut by her and others who left one by one, it was like every blood in your veins stopped cycling. No noise could be heard. You could feel an intense pair of ocean blue eyes began shooting you holes through your body that gave you the shivers.

Now, it was just you, him and nobody else.

You mentally gave yourself a slap for not reviewing for his test. It was quite embarrassing for him to see how you were struggling for a test that was undoubtedly easy for everyone.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Your professor started completely unfazed by your endeavor to get the test done in a minute. You breathed out a breath in utter frustration, closing your eyes and capping your pen closed. The time was up.

A large, warm hand gently clasped your shoulder, and you were sure you felt the imaginary sparks from it that also held a flush of shivers, creating a reaction that made your whole body go rigid.

"---Don't rush, you have all the time." Mr. Cavill surprisingly spoke in his calm, low voice. Warm, comforting heat gathered in a close proximity and before you could even realize what was happening; he was already hovering from behind, checking your answers for you.

His breathtaking face were inches away from you, his perfect side profile seen from your peripheral vision and his spectacles slightly falling on his tall, pointy nose. The dimple on his nose winsome for your taste and for every thirsty felines as well. Eyelashes long that can be considered as pretty, an exact length to beautify his eyes a lot more than it would. There was something mysterious about what lies beneath his bright azure eyes. Something dark was laying deep inside of it but it was a locked up window that nobody could ever get to see and understand.

Something about him was making you more intrigued for what his lifestyle is and the more curious you are, the more you were getting yourself at risk. Deeper. Intrusive. You were going to risk it all.

The deep scar on the top of his right eye brow distracted you from thinking anymore else. It looked like a battle scar that he once got from a fight, and it was quite interesting to see such a perfect face that held a flaw; telling you he was actually human after all and not a prince in your dreams.

"Ms. Y/L/N, I suppose you never listen to any of my lessons, am I correct?"

Oh, the way he says your last name always made you sin. Heat traveled towards your face, and some even had the audacity to travel down south. It was wrong.

You had to stop.

"I-I..I do, Sir." You struggled to keep your mind straight. Your eyes stared straight at the whiteboard in front of you, never giving him a glance.

Those heavy gaze of his fell on you; piercing and utterly inquisitive; giving your heart a chance to leave the curiosity before he would want to pry a lot about you that you couldn't imagine him to know, you could feel the disappointment within his eyes that crushed your hopes in making him proud.

"All of your answers are incorrect. It seemed like you've been guessing your answers the whole time,"

Shame and guilt was all you felt at that exact moment. The ends of Mr. Cavill's lips formed a tight thin line before languidly curving into a small, sinister smile that he never gave to any of his students. Yet, you were an exception.

"Must I say, do I sound uninteresting for you?"

An excruciating ring of your school bell rang loudly enough for you to jerk on your seat. You couldn't deny the intense attraction you were feeling towards your professor. The windows weren't locked anymore, and you knew for a fact that you've seen the treacherous glint in his eyes; giving you the key for you to decide if you wanted to enter. Deep down something diabolical lived inside and it left you curious enough to dig down whatever hidden darkness it could be.

"I..I.." You anxiously trailed off and stared into his eyes, feeling yourself get enticed by the gorgeous hues around his dark pupils. He was bold enough to stare back, his face too close for your liking.

"You think I don't notice it at all, do you? you're interested---curious even and that curiosity of yours will risk you a lot, sweetheart."

The words that came out of his mouth were utmost accurate, you felt your throat become dry from getting caught red-handed and from how he could read you with his eyes. Your professor was totally unbelievable and you didn't know whether or not he was just too conceited enough to say it straight to your face like it wasn't wrong nor indecent.

"I think...y-you got everything wrong, sir." you quickly scrambled out of your seat, books falling from your hands and you crouched down to get it, yet your professor was faster than you. He gathered those fallen books and stood undeniably tall, placing them on your opened palms. His eyes absolutely unreadable. You couldn't see what his emotions are at the moment, and it was terrifying to see that he looked like a sociopath for one second before playfulness have been replaced within his eyes.

He looked down at you, a small smile on show, "You think? No, Darling,---" Mr. Cavill momentarily paused with a smirk that got you swallowing the uncomfortable, heated feeling down your throat.

"---I know what's running inside those pretty head of yours and I assure you, it can be shameless and utterly unchaste as it can get,"

Without any second thought, you had everything around your arms; running out of the room. Never looking back at your professor who lowly chuckled to himself, seeing how he connected the dots with the right pattern. He knew you would end up walking with the same path as him, together and as one because of how you were hunting him down behind his back.

You were only acting. He could feel it.

Your unfinished paper was left on your desk, the ends of your test so wrinkly from the hard tugs while you tried remembering the right answers to those questions on his test. He remembered your face, he remembers every move you make all day and Henry knew you've been his shadow for the last two weeks like a canine he didn't remember that he has adopted.

Mr. Cavill had your papers at hand. He smiled to himself and with no doubt, he ticked every question correct despite of your wrong answers.

You passed his test and darkness was bound to happen soon.

10:20 PM.

The strange encounter you had with your professor didn't stop your undying attraction towards him, to be honest. It lured you into knowing more about him; becoming selfish to the point of being invasive, secretly following him around to find details about him and his life. All you knew was his name and that he was your History teacher.

William Cavill. That was his name. Other than that, there was nothing you ever did know except for where he lived. In a basic, plain rental apartments where everyone had one gate to begin with. You've noted that in your hidden diary made just for men who'd reach the point of being stalked by yourself. The kind of level where you plan on breaking inside his house to find more information because your lack of knowledge about him was frustrating you from the start.

You would try breaking into his apartment soon enough.

His place wasn't extravagant like how you imagined him to be, owning no car as he walks home and sometimes take public vehicles to arrive in your university like a normal human.

He wasn't rich. Though, his features could mistake him as a prince. Deserving more than to live in a ramshackle apartment.

You've lost track of Mr. Cavill and his whereabouts. One minute you were just following him in discreet, and now he was nowhere to be seen after turning at a sketchy street that made your feet stop from following him.

'Am I turning into a nutjob? No. I'm doing this to know him better, know what he likes or dislikes, knowing more about him that a typical woman would do. This is for the better and he probably will like it if he knew, I need to jot down things that will make him like me,'  You thought to yourself, your feet trembling with every step you took; the brisk, cold wind making it difficult for you to keep steady as you walked through the dark, strange street that your professor just walked in minutes ago.

There was finally light after walking through a dark path; feeling like it could've been a new beginning for your life if you were being metaphoric. You've seen a streetlamp beside a locked up door and a dumpster. It was the only light you could see. From your perspective, the end of the street was a dead end.

You were about to turn around, thinking that this might be a trap for being caught because your professor was no where to be seen. Up until, you've squinted your eyes at two men talking farther away from the lamp, hiding amongst the silhouette of the night sky. One voice quite foreign and the other recognizable by your ears.

The pitter-patters of your feet were stealthy, strolling closer and closer towards danger zone.

"Did the Rossi's hired you?" there was a hint of Italian from the stranger's voice, you managed to move and hide beside the huge dumpster, and it was the right hiding place because you could see and hear everything.

Everything including Mr. Cavill's features. Howbeit, without the black spectacles.

Why was he here and why is he interrogating a man? a man that also seemed familiar to you?

"You just don't know when to shut up, will you?" He curtly spat, the usual calmness whenever he talks in front of his students was now gone and replaced with a very ill-mannered tone. A tone you didn't expect to come out from him because he was pretty much a reserved and refined man.

"I am living a good life by being a professor in St. Hallmark Institute. But, you've come to try and ruin everything,"

"I've never ruined anything in the first place. It was you who made your own destiny. You've told secrets to other people that was meant to be buried deep in the ground, Henry. Finally, I found you---we were all looking for you,"

Henry? who was Henry? All you knew was that his name was 'William Cavill' and not the Henry that he was talking about.

Your hands began trembling with your back against the dumpster, eyes popping out of its eye sockets from all the scenarios happening.

The more you wait, the clamorous and intense their voices have become, "You're a Cavill, yes? I've known that unimpeachable but minatory gaze in your eyes. A family where everyone kills for a living, one of his son's best known hit man in Jersey; definitely the best out of the rest and people have been striving to find you---wanting to experience services that would definitely be worth the shot because you've struggled to learn everything---trained to become unstoppable. Although, there is one mistake that runs in the family,---" pause, "Your daddy never misses, yes?" The man dragged on and on, he was walking on a path of burning coal and fire. Hence, you were sure he was soon going to get a beating out of what gossips he was saying.

You closed your eyes, breathing quieter than normal; scared to get caught listening to their conversation. You heard a thud on the wall beside you, and it was because your professor boldly strangled the man around his neck, choking him to the point of taking his life out of it. His rage seen from how the veins on his temples were protruding and aching to burst from his anger.

Your fingers trembled from the sudden violence. Downright feeling frightened for what was going to happen with the pestilent man who wanted to get onto his wick, provoking to turn him into a savage animal who wouldn't deliberate for the kill. This man was bringing back memories that Henry wanted to avoid and forget after months of thriving.

But, it never happens because he was born to assassinate and the memories and guilt continued to haunt him forever.

"U-Until, he missed the part that your mother wasn't the target, but your weak, senile, clumsy il babbo aimed the sniper at her head," The man was trudging with fire, a fire that wouldn't be easy to kill.

You heard a cock of somebody's gun, and a deep hitch of breath from the stranger. He violently thrashed against his hold as he could see the gun tucked between the side of his pants. The barrel of the gun shiny beneath the moon light. The Italian clawed on Henry's large hand that was wrapped around his neck with a vice grip. Your professor didn't felt any remorse, nor guilt. Only amusement after trying to spur him on.

"It's quite a shame that you think of me that way," he smiled, a pure wicked beam that you haven't seen since then, cocking his head to the side as he gave him a frightening glare and a simple raise of his eyebrow, "---I'm definitely not like my father because when I hold a gun?" Mr. Cavill seethed through clenched teeth and a tight jaw, "---missing a target would be one of my greatest mistakes and I haven't had any blunders since then,"

"---I never risk to make any mistakes, Leo. I'm far different from my father. When I annihilate a target, I don't think twice and I know you've heard the gossips,"

Leonardo Bianchi desperately tried to fight off the hand that was slowly killing him. After a few more attempts, he have seen that there was no escape and that he'd click the switch inside Henry's head to become the lethal weapon that he was born to be.

The family has given him the go signal. Leonardo has only been a pawn for the family's success into whatever decision they had for the only Cavill that was left alive. But, he had hunt him down; catching the beast as to where it lived; hunting down its location. But, tonight will be the night he reaches his demise, and the man definitely knows it when he'd been given the order to stay close and find what they needed.

Leonardo was just merely their cat's paw.

He loudly laughed manically, breathing labored as the latter heaved to live for his family that was held hostage by the organization that he was in. If he wasn't alive before they get to track him down then his very own family---the real ones---will lose a father and a person who protects them from treacherous doings that he had been involved.

"I won't be the only one rotting in hell, Henry---" he deadpanned, "---you are too because revenge can be bittersweet and you're living for it,"

Mr. Cavill's smile turned upside down into a phlegmatic grimace, sliding the pistol out of his black trench coat that was tucked in between his pants before closely aiming the gun right in the middle of Leonardo's forehead, sweat began to roll down Leonardo's temples from the fear of being dead in the middle of a dead end street. Henry's eyes held no sympathy and just undying wrath for how his past was haunting him down no matter what he does. No matter what he does, they always crawl back like they have been hiding under his bed since then.

Leonardo Bianchi shut his eyes before death could even take him. He knew then and there he was going to die because whenever one does get to find the hit man that every familia wanted to get a hold to, they die in that exact day; complicating their trackers and showing them the wrong location until Henry decides to leave whatever life he created in his current one.

Though, he doubt that he'll be leaving this place for good today. Maybe, fate was about to take its turn and play the wild card.

"Let's share hell together then, il compagno."

It didn't take two seconds before you've heard the blaring sound of a gun going off; never thinking twice about pulling the trigger. He was dead, just like that; leaving his family in the past of his sins.

An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

Everything was gory. The bullet punctured the wall where Leonardo's head was roughly pushed with his dreams and faith that has been crushed in just a single bullet and because of one malefactor that you didn't expect to see.

Mr. Cavill killed a man with his gun and he wasn't just any man; the Italian man was his co-worker, a fellow professor too who went with the name 'Aaron Anderson' who also hid his Italian accent with a rough southern intonation of his tongue.

He was your new Physical Education professor last week ago and now Mr. Anderson was laying on the cold, hard ground on a dead end street.

Henry slipped the gun in his trench coat for safety; audibly sighing for a sight that he never knew would happen again. However, they took three months before he was found again rather than those weeks that they've taken for him to be hunted down. He didn't need another re-location of his life in another country or place; the latter was pleased to be a professor in your university, living in a secluded and a slightly run down rental apartment which was needed for his bolthole; so he would hardly be found.

Crimson blood pooled along the ground, he crouched before Leonardo; his eyes wide opened to tell that he was fighting to live with a gun on his head. Yet, Henry apathetically stared at his pale, bloody face, showing no ounce of pity for the whole situation. He took his white handkerchief tucked in his coat pockets, expunging the blood that coated on his thick fingers before bluntly throwing it on Leonardo's face. Once his rue was clean and forgotten, he firmly stood on his feet like this has been a daily occurrence for years end.

Curiosity killed the cat and care was too obsessed over the Cheshire cat. Now, she was left to deteriorate for letting her other professor be killed by his own co-worker.

Your hands began trembling and your breath was getting the best of you. Hence, it added more panic when the rough, relaxed sounds of footfall started to echo closer and closer before it ceased before the dumps that was behind you.

A faint click of a button has been heard before hearing his low, satiny timbre of his voice nearby; feeling as if eyes were boring into your head while you have been rooted, crouching beside the dumps.

"Blind alley. East side. You know where I am because I know you track me down, Huntsman. Go check your fucking tracker---yeah, yeah. Another bullshit of a carcass. Shot in the head, mate. Got blood on my hands again---it was the first time for the last three months though,"

He sounded like he was just talking dinner with the caller on his phone. Too stolid for what he has done after the shooting. Thus, you've heard soft tapping of his foot on the ground, nearer than it ever has been.

"---I want the whole fucking alley pasteurized in less than ten minutes, got it?" he brusquely ordered around, giving a moment for the caller to finish whatever he or she was saying before you've heard Henry scoff from above your head; making you audibly hitch your breath, "---Don't act like you aren't following me around and that you live nearby,"

You were caught. The cat was captured from her sheer curiosity. Cats have seven lives based on the sayings. Nevertheless, you only had one left for tonight.

It felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown on your head. The eerie, tranquil silence for waiting whatever it is that his friend wanted to say was killing you alive. You began to breathe fast, hyperventilating in your space as your nails scratched the clothing of your knees, panic was rising through and becoming uncontrollable.

Sure, you were a stalker. But, did you deserve to die in the same place where your P.E professor has been killed? will you accept the fact that you'll be perished by the man who was worth the obsession before you knew he was a convict?

If so, then why was your core still throbbing to be caught like it was giving you thrill and excitement to be lured in?

"---Might have caught a witness this time," Henry bluntly confessed, his tone quite exuberant from the expected emotion you imagined him to be in; sounding like he caught the biggest fish in the sea as he went on to talk.

"---Don't worry. This one's mine. I'll do all the interrogating tonight,"

Then, you've heard the shuffling of his clothes, thinking that he'd tuck his phone inside his pockets before you've felt him crouch beside you; slowly and painstakingly.

Warm set of thick fingers clasped onto your fretful ones, his touch sending sparks and probably knives from how tender yet threatening it felt; like his softness had a trade of contract with the Grim Reaper because he didn't seem to be like a person whose heart was delicate, virtuous and guileless like how you've imagined him to be.

His face can trick you into imagining him to be the opposite of what he actually was. An unfortunate disguise that he had which infatuated you to the core. Literally.

He pried those hands away from fidgeting over your knee, his eyes burning you alive as it felt so heavy on the side of your face.

"You shouldn't have followed me, sweetheart."

His presence was near. Too near for you to handle the bad omen lingering around. Your heart stopped beating from the moment those thick, rough, calloused fingers reach out to lightly clasp around the width of your soft, silky neck. The loose grip more frightening than to receive a rougher one because it was giving you mixed signals that you've hit a nerve and your death was just being postponed for minutes.

You've unconsciously swallowed, "You've seen the murder. I know you were a smart one no matter how you were always misbehaving---but, this time; you behaved like the good girl that your parents have always believed in," Henry whispered in your ear; his fiery, hot breath fanning the side of your face in ways that got your heart pounding in such crazy exhilaration. Shivers began to shake your spine, leaving you scared and thrilled for your life.

His thumb grazed along the edge of your jaw, your primal focus on his hand ghosting over your neck like he was planning to choke you alive. Henry could have it, he could do just that with how you've easily submitted to the murderer of your night.

Those cobalt eyes were cryptic. An enigma that kept you insane and wanting for more because of how secretive he was that got you following him around. But, you obviously couldn't deny the tremor of being caught by the man himself.

Your professor forcefully turned your head to look straight into his face. Thus, there you notice splotches of blood has painted his face; such perfect canvas that has been ruined by the blood of the person's life that he has taken. Henry was almost perfect, too perfect that it leaves you thoroughly intrigued for what flaw he had because you knew, deep down; there was something more.

His nose nuzzled upon yours, the dimples of his nose slightly grazing as he lowly seethed with spite and utter sophistication, "If you were any normal person, you should have left me alone since the last two weeks,"

He knew.

Mr. Cavill knows he was being followed by you and nothing was more frightening than a smirking devil who hid behind a picturesque face that would make you kneel before him like his Acolyte. Though, you were just thinking about it that you haven't even realized you were already glorifying him before you even know it.

His breath met your mouth. Your veins were flowing faster than it ever does before, much more than your orgasms could ever take. You lightly scoffed, sounding a little more shakier than how you imagined it to be, worried about everything you've done for the last two weeks. Your actions thoroughly inconspicuous.

The stalker title taken seriously like you have done it for a long time.

"But, I'm far from sane, Sir."

You knew you were. Saying it out loud was so bold in your part. But, if you were being honest it felt like this whole shaken girl that he was seeing has just been all an act that you wanted to manipulate.

Manipulation was just the icing on the cake because you could do more than that for the man you love. The facade that everyone sees was just merely a veil that came with your fancy dress, drinking wine as you let all the plans go through your head that was written inside your secret diary that was buried under the Sycamore tree that your mother loves to disregard because of how high maintenance it was, close to reaching its death as you noticed the leaves falling every day like bad-omen was coming. Hence, she didn't like how ghastly it appeared to be like; making it a better spot for your secrets to be kept under the pile of shattered dreams and bones.

If your mother wouldn't love the horrible ones, then you were willing to appreciate its natural beauty despite of how hideous it was for everyone.

Once you love someone or something, you never let it go that easily; reaching to the level that you would do everything in your will power to get and have what you want.

Henry's grip tightened in a way that got you grinning like a Cheshire cat, he was playing a game where he was trying to let you run for the hills. Mr. Cavill was mindlessly telling you that your life wasn't useful nor significant to him; though, you knew he didn't have it in him to place the gun on your temples because if he did then you should've been dead right now.

Deep within the waves of his ocean, you've seen something valuable that can be useful for you. Your lips curled wider as you've read his eyes that secretly tells you that he was more than interested for the poker game because of the cards he set beneath his palms; confidently assured that he would win.

He had a three of a kind.

But, you hold out a straight flush.

"---I doubt you're sane for stalking me around like it is a normal thing for a student like you,"

You quietly giggled beneath being dominated within his reach. Your tongue slipped out of your mouth, the wet muscle sticking out to lick the cupid's bow of his lips which made your crime-filled professor growl from the sudden action. He harshly huffed out of his mouth, giving you a menacing flicker of his Cobalt eyes which made you laugh out louder as the pungent, metallic scent of blood wafted through both of your noses.

Tag, he was it.

Now, you had more reasons to pry into his life more than how you were invited. Howbeit, Invitations weren't needed because your strong determination was enough to trespass into his dangerous world.

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, BB! (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag the user. Please do check your settings, dollies!) PLEASE DO REBLOG! 🥰

Taglist for Sinners in a Pod: @amirahiddleston​, @iloveyouyen​, @godohammers​, @uncoolcloudyhead​, @marvelousell​, @boundtomyfate​, @evansislife​, @rahdaleigh​, @justine-en​, @agniavateira​, @maan24​, @fangirl-inthe-us​, @mary-ann84​ @snatchedbylele​

[sinkix]

《What your fav Haikyuu!! Character says about you│Nekoma Edition》

Yo-hoo! Here’s another part to this potential(?) series! I hope you enjoy the possible call-outs in some of these lmao. Writers block been kicking my ass recently but I had a lot of fun writing these. Enjoy <3

You can find the Karasuno ver. here 

✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧

Kuroo:

Have a hand fetish and will not say no to choking.

Daddy kink™

Will not accept anything below 6 inches.

More of a dog person but would love to own a black cat.

You drool over tattoos.

Your grades are mostly B’s but you know in your heart you deserve that A, and tbh you probably do. Chase ur goals bby.

Halloween is likely your favourite holiday.

You have to resist not to carve a dick into the pumpkin EvEry GodDAmN YeAr.

You either study for 6 hours consecutively or cannot study at all and you get very frustrated at this.

Have the potential to be a good leader and command the room but probably don’t put it to use as much as you should.

Your playlist parkours from sad 3am crying into your pillow songs to aggressive punk music you could rob a store to.

You like bad boys who hang around bars and look like they would put out a cigarette on your forearm and call you a slut. Just stating facts sweaty xoxo.

Either dress very feminine and girly with a ‘smol girl uwu’ aesthetic or a hardass punk who would kick your ass for a can of beer no in between and tbh both are equally hot.

You’re a big softie at heart either way and just want to be held and told everything will be okay.

Ur a hoe for when people stroke your hair or caress your chin it’s your ultimate weakness.

Watched Rick & Morty.

Twice.

Sleeves rolled up veiny forearms and donning a silver watch are your muse and something you fantasise about frequently.

Most of your memes are shitty top text bottom texts that are somehow funny and I don’t understand why lmao.

You call someone ‘bro’ even if it’s someone you’re immensely attracted to.

Did someone say ties? No it’s just ur dirty ass thoughts thinking about that hot business dudes attire from across the street and how you wish they were tied around ur wrists.

Probably had a crush on Jeff the Killer as a tween and are relentlessly haunted by your old Wattpad library. 

Tbh any dark-haired dude with bedhead that screams rugged and probably not good for you is something that draws you like a moth to a flame.

You often question why every person you’ve fallen for has been a Scorpio and curse that tendency of yours.

Dw man they’re hot so I feel u.

Kenma:

Went through a ‘I’m not like other __’ phase and it’s something that you think about a lot and wish you didn’t.

Watched dan & phil as a kid.

Any mention of Pokemon has you turning into a rabid beast you get way too excited.

It’s cute though dw bby.

Pretty antisocial but interesting to talk to.

Your family often question how you’re able to sleep in till 3pm and judge you heavily for it.

Nocturnal night owl gang rise up.

Frequently have bags under your eyes but somehow manage to pull it off.

Listen to ASMR on the down-low and will never admit it to a single soul.

Frequently go on BL binges and have many related book marks.

You pray that someone will never find your laptop bc holy fuck the amount of smut on that.

You wear scarves & beanies even when it isn’t that cold outside.

100% went through a scene hair phase/attempted to.

You dye your hair a lot or REALLY want to.

You have a voice kink low-key so anyone with a pleasant/soothing sounding voice just gets u goin’.

Cats are your favourite animal and you either do or want to own several.

Would name them after video game/anime characters u fuckin nerd lol.

Speaking of cats ,you fantasise heavily about cat-boys and have a folder dedicated to them.

Oversized hoodies are your vibe and always ball the sleeve hems in your fist as a comfort mechanism.

Shopping centres are your worst nightmare and trigger your claustrophobia or social anxiety and honestly I feel that spiritually.

Have a cute sticky note collection.

You like a lot of music consisting of guitar and slow/soothing beats.

You also fw EDM/ techno on occasions.

Honestly wouldn’t wanna anger you since you have a seething temper when pushed far enough.

It’s the kinda temper that’s eerily quiet but no less terrifying, like the other person can tell you are graphically plotting their demise.

You love sleeping to the sound of rainfall and often play those nature ambience videos while you sleep.

Never tidy your sheets and it’s just a big scrunched up heap of fabric in the centre of your mattress most of the time.

Make your fucking bed.

Lev:

Your ships are chaotic and shamelessly controversial.

Would do something just for the sake of creating mayhem lmao.

You were the fucker who stuck their chewing gum under the desk, I see you.

Your brain never stops whirring it’s a constant hurricane of crackhead energy and you have no idea how to turn it off. 

Would eat a stick of pencil lead for $2

You don’t help your situation with the amount of coffee/energy drinks you consume.

The class clown who cries themselves to sleep.

Such a wholesome dumbass but somehow kinda intimidating??? 

Even if you’re not confident you can do something you’ll try anyway and honestly I respect that about you.

You !! use!!! a lot??!! of!! random punctuation!!! so you always??!?!? seem!!111!! excited!!!!!11!?

Every time you’ve ever tried to make a sandcastle it has failed.

You tried to eat the sand once but we don’t talk bout that.

You would  also pick up slugs and snails and chase your friends around with them.

Can never tell whether people are laughing with you or at you and while you don’t let it show it high-key bothers you when you’re laying alone in your room at night.

Not one to hold grudges, you carry a ‘shit happens’ mentality which is v good but it sometimes leads to people taking advantage of it or walking all over you.

Your meme collection is both questionable and horrifying.

Like how many cursed images and heavily distorted pictures does one person need.

Never organise the files on your PC/laptop so it looks like a complete dumpster fire.

The one at sleepovers who persistently woke everyone else up with their snickering and refusal to sleep till dawn.

For the love of Asahi charge your damn phone.

I see that red bar and ‘12%’

Charge it now.

Bought a plant one time, gave it a name and talked to it frequently.

It died not long after bc u forgot to fucking water it.

No one better ever make you responsible for a pet.

Type of person that when someone asks you to tag along on an endeavour no matter how stupid it is you will agree.

2am skydiving in france? hell yeah.

Midnight shopping spree and spending over half your pay check? count you in.

Exploring an abandoned hospital and performing an Ouija board to summon the demons of hell? you’re damn right you’ll be there.

I hope you have a mum friend by your side bc if not how are you still alive.

You sometimes put the milk in before the cereal and it’s something I’ll never forgive you for.

Yaku:

Very responsible and usually make the right decisions.

You do have moments where you act like a complete dumbass though.

Like u go from 50 year old to 5 year old in the blink of an eye.

A hopeless romantic but it’s a side you don’t often reveal.

Prefer strawberry milk over any other flavour.

You’re the type of person to shower twice a day w/o fail.

Where that stank smell coming from? Not you clearly bc your skin is basically 90% The Body Shop’s rose scented soap at this point.

You get stomach aches a lot and you can’t figure out why.

Probably an allergy to everyone’s bs.

Really good at dirty talk even though you don’t seem the type so people are always taken aback.

You have to be really in the mood though otherwise it falls flatter than Oikawa’s ass, use your skill wisely.

You often call people clowns when you know you’re secretly the biggest one going.

Honk honk, hoe.

You send messages in one paragraph rather than multiple texts unless you are REALLY excited.

People underestimate you at times then are shocked when they realise you are capable of being a fire-breathing dragon from the flaming pits of hell.

You like spicy chicken wings.

Such a petty little shit at times lmao.

Enjoy the view from the top of mountains so you either hike a lot or really want to.

Way more of a cat person since it’s just much more convenient for you.

Usually pretty cheerful or calm and people are drawn to your stable/friendly aura.

Went through a phase of drinking mountain dew and your body still feels the awful effects

Fav element is probably air.

You’re 5′6″ or shorter.

Box dyed your hair brunette several times and can never get the pigment out to this day.

Yamamoto:

Whenever you smell something weird in the room you always internally freak out and think it’s you.

Head-butting walls is your hobby.

You fell off your bike as a kid and still have the scar on your knee.

Probably have tons of ear piercings.

Would tame a pigeon and call it Larry.

You get frequent nosebleeds and can never tell if it’s a medical issue or your extreme simping for fictional men/women.

Hopefully the latter.

You constantly chew your pen/pencil in class so you never lend them to anyone out of embarrassment.

I really hope no one ever lends you stationery bc 30 minutes later it’ll look like it was mauled by a rabid rottweiler.

You really want to own a dog and would call it something intimidating like Banshee or Diablo.

You bleached your hair that one time and it almost fell out so now you’re forced to stay at least 10 metres away from all at-home hair dye products.

You tried your best though bby so A for effort, even if it did look like dehydrated ramen afterwards.

Your grades are mostly C’s and you’re barely passing bc you just don’t care about your classes lol.

Still though you’re actually pretty smart so put it to good use you lazy oaf, channel that crackhead energy into something good.

Your phone screen has several cracks in it from when you dropped it on the bathroom floor while shitting and you’ll always be angry at yourself for that.

You have some really weird quirks but you make it work.

Actually a v chill person but you just kinda attract chaos/trouble wherever you go.

Carry a lighter with you even when you don’t need one.

Shy texter but once people see you irl you are the complete opposite, you just dk how to text without coming across as awkward.

One of those people that’s unintentionally funny and always get confused when you make someone laugh but it makes you feel good regardless.

Have a cool necklace collection and own at least one dog-tag/army style pendant.

Should really consider buying a rabbit you would look so cute w/ one.

You have really nice legs and people should compliment them more.

Either severely dehydrated or overly hydrated to the point you are peeing pure tap water so for the love of god please learn moderation, your kidneys and bladder will thank you for it.

Inuoka:

Your favourite character would be Hinata but you like people taller than you so your love for Inuoka spawned.

You really enjoy using the double spiderman meme.

Cannot correctly verbalise your feelings without creating a minimum of 10 misunderstandings but once people are used to it it’s kinda endearing.

You usually wake up in a good mood and people can never fathom how or why.

You either stay up till 5am or you wake up at that time no in between.

A morning person bc you love the sunrise.

Change your lock-screen very regularly bc you get bored.

Your humour consists solely of poop jokes.

When you don’t understand a joke you laugh anyway and hope they don’t ask you if you actually get it.

Happened once and you’re still traumatised from the cricket silence that fell upon the room.

Really like the taste of lemonade and drink it more often than you should.

Often think about what you would look like with a shaved head.

More of an extrovert but def have occasional introvert tendencies where you wanna be left tf alone.

Never allowed to pick up anything in stores bc the last time you did you sniffed a scented candle and it shattered to the floor.

Constantly have spontaneous ideas of what to change about your appearance.

You use a lot of hand gestures like thumbs up and peace signs.

‘Dude’ and ‘lmao’ is 90% of your vernacular.

Your nails are a disaster, some are down to the nub while others are pretty grown out bc you only bite a select few please sort it out.

Look really good in red.

Your laptop has way too many tabs open from random google searches of words you didn’t know the meaning to.

You read a lot of books but for like 10 minutes at a time bc you have the attention span of a walnut.

You are the type of person to nuke your AO3 tags with things that aren’t even relevant purely bc you found them funny.

Your Tumblr drafts are a nightmare, you have like 100+ in the works yet keep starting new projects why do you do this.

Happy sunshine but you have a LOT of mood swings like that shit comes out of nowhere.

Cry pretty often but no one ever sees and it’s usually because of said mood swings.

You always smile and pick yourself up again though which I commend you for.

TYPES IN CAPITALS IN SITUATIONS THAT DO NOT REQUIRE SAID PUNCTUATION SO YOU SEEM LIKE YOU’RE YELLING ALL THE TIME.

[aleksandermorozovaa]

Over Cookies? - Part 2

Since you all seemed to love the first part, which thank you for the love and support btw (each of your asks meant so much to me! I read them all and my heart melted tysm)! If you want to be tagged in my writing or have any requests please let me know!

Part 1 

AO3 Link

Tags: 

@commanderbensolo​ @direnightshade​

He’d sat at the top of the stairs for what felt like an eternity before he’d given up and made his way back down stairs, but not before telling Henry he was there when he wanted to talk, that he wasn’t mad, that you weren’t mad. That he wasn’t in trouble. 

Charlie suspected there was more going on inside Henry’s head than just burning cookies. He just needed to make sure that Henry knew he was there for him, that he’d listen whenever he was ready to share. None of that helicopter parenting Nicole and her mother insisted on. He knew from experience that the more you hound someone to open up to you the more they turn inward, hide their feelings. So he’d stumbled downstairs, turned off the oven which had still been on. 

He’d put his laptop away not long after getting it out, deciding work was pointless when every little noise drew his attention, to the front door and your missing coat and then to the stairs, hoping Henry had come out his room. 

But everytime, there was nothing. You were still gone and Henry was still upset. He’d sent you texts, asking you to let him know you were okay, you’d replied quickly reassuring him. He was thankful for that, that you didn’t leave him filled with anxiety. 

Eventually he’d heard the tell tale jingle of keys as you slid your key into the lock. You’d often jingle as you walked, with your mass of key chains you had attached to your keys. It was beyond him why you did it, other than making it easier to find your keys in your purse. When he’d asked you you’d rolled your eyes and told him each one held a special memory that you wanted to keep close to you, you’d talked him through each of them, ending on a shard of tigers' eyes. A brown and almost honey gold precious stone. 

You’d told him you’d seen it at a street stall and the colour had reminded you of his eyes, the little card next to it explained that tigers' eyes was supposed to make you feel confident, free from anxiety and safe. The exact way he’d made you feel; so you’d bought it and it had quickly become your favourite key chain. Letting you carry his presence around with you no matter how far away he was. 

It was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. That had been the first time he’d told you he loved you and not a day had gone by since where he hadn’t repeated those words. 

The door clicked shut, he watched you shrug your coat off, in your hands was a little paper bag and the tray filled with three coffee cups from the independent coffee shop a few blocks away, you claimed they made the best coffee in the entire world, he hadn’t bothered to argue with you about it. 

He shot from his chair and moved over to you, taking the tray from your hands so you could slip your arm from your coat and hang it. You smiled up at him, thankful for the help. 

“How is he?” You ask with a small frown. Your concern for Henry always blew him away. The way you knew and understood that Henry came first in his life, that Henry's well being and happiness was his propriety. 

It was a relief honestly he'd heard stories from other single fathers in his directors social circles. About the women they dated post divorce, they were clingy and easily jealous of anyone else in their lives. Charlie thought they made these poor women out to be like cats or children not girlfriends. Either way he’d been relieved when you were anything but. He was the one that had become clingy, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible wanting to fill the loneliness in his heart and the emptiness in his home. He wanted to surround himself with only you.  

"He's not speaking to me. He won't even unlock the door to let me in." Charlie sighed and opened his arms slightly hoping you would take the invitation to let him hold you. 

You did, moving forward and wrapping your arms tight around his middle, your cheek pressing into his chest, the hand not holding the drinks tray wrapped around you in return. You smelt of cold crisp air and the perfume he'd gotten you for your birthday a few months ago. He could never really pick up what the notes were, it wasn't exactly his area of expertise. But it was a scent he'd never forget, he'd come to think of it as home.

“Can I go up?” You ask, pulling out of his embrace. Charlie nodded, he wasn’t sure Henry would open up to you but if you wanted to try he wouldn’t stop you. 

“I got you coffee.” You said gesturing to the cup tray in his hands. “Oatmilk just like you like.” 

“Thank you.” Coffee always helps to calm him down, there was something about holding a hot cup that brought comfort and peace. You take the smallest cup from the carrier, he notices a tiny cartoon drawn on the side, he wonders briefly if you did that or if you asked the barista to, but then the unmistakable lines of your handwriting catch his eye. 

You lean up to kiss his cheek before making your way up the stairs. Charlie hangs about at the bottom, resting his hands on the banister and his chin on top. 

“Henry.” You say softly, you don’t knock like he had. “I know you’re upset with me right now.”

You pause as if expecting Henry to tell you to go away, Charlie expects it too but Henry stays silent. 

“I’m not going to ask you to speak to me or anything like that, but I got you a hot chocolate. And one of those little tomato and mozzarella pastries you like. I even asked them to take the basil off. I’ll leave them outside your door for you okay?” You came back downstairs after that, back to Charlie’s waiting arms. 

<>

Sleep struggled to claim him that night. He’d tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. He knew he was keeping you up with it so he’d gone back downstairs to get a glass of water. Hopefully giving you time to get to sleep without his restlessness. He’d stopped outside Henry’s room to pick up the empty paper food bag. The cup was probably sitting on his desk half cold. He’d picked up his mother’s annoying habit of not finishing drinks. But that's okay. At least he’d eaten. 

He’d spent some time sitting at the breakfast counter in the kitchen, after putting the cookies in the fridge with the leftover dough. He’d of course eaten two of them, unable to stop himself they’d crumbled in his mouth, they’d tasted a little over cooked but it didn’t ruin how nice they were. 

He’d made some notes in his notebook and then ended up doodling instead so he’d refilled his glass of water and carried it back upstairs.

"I don't hate you Y/N," 

"I know." The conversation caught his ears as he reached the top of the stairs causing him to stop in his tracks. The door to Henry's room was wide open as well as the door to tour shared room. You'd turned the bedside lamp on, the light gently illuminating the room and the landing.

"You're nice and kind and you tell the funniest jokes." Charlie smiled at that, you had a little joke book stores away sometimes the week leading up to Henry's visits; he'd find you sitting highlighting jokes or writing them down from the internet. Every morning when Henry came down for breakfast you'd tell him and he always loved them. 

"But what if I'm like the cookies." 

"What do you mean bug?" you'd called Henry bug since the first day you'd met him. The first thing Henry had done was show you the tiny ladybird that had landed on his hand. Together you'd counted the spots and told each other facts about ladybirds. Henry's were all simple little things he'd learnt in school but you'd always act like it was the most exciting thing. 

"You said that we could just make some more because they're not perfect. What if you do that to me? What if you replace me?" 

Charlie's heart was in this throat, tears pricking his eyes. Finally understanding the cause of all this. He stepped into the bedroom placing his glass of water and the dresser and then climbing into bed, sandwiching Henry in.

He saw how that Henry was pressed right up against, your arms wrapped around him. you his eyes rimmed red. He'd been crying.

"We'd never ever replace you bug. Ever.”

“Zola’s dad had another baby and she never sees him anymore.” Charlie reached out to his son then stroking his hair. He thought that he was replaceable? That’s where this had all come from. 

“That’s never going to happen.” Charlie said, holding back the sob in his throat. “Henry I’d never ever not love you.” 

“Really? Henry turns to face him, the tears now visible on his cheek. “Even if you had another baby? One that was better than me?” 

“Nothing could be better than you bug.” You say with a smile. 

“Even if me and Y/N did have a baby,” Charlie pauses then to look at you, neither of you had ever really mentioned children yet, he had thought about it, what you’d look like pregnant. How much of a good mother you would be. He knew it was something he wanted eventually, but not yet. He could tell just by the soft encouraging smile on your face, that this was something you’d considered too. In any other situation he’d have celebrated, been so happy that you were committed to him enough to think about children. But it wasn’t the time. 

“You would be just as important, I’d never leave you Henry. I need you to know that. I love you more than anything.” 

Henry nodded and moved closer so that he was wrapped in Charlie’s. You shuffled closer as well your arm coming to rest over Henry and rest on Charlie’s waist. 

“Dad?”

Charlie hummed.

“I love you.” a pause. “I love you too Y/N.” To his knowledge that was the time he’d said he loved you. Your eyes were closed but he saw the grin spread across your lips. 

“And  we you bug. Now get some sleep, we’ve got a long day of cookie decorating tomorrow.”

Charlie wasn't a fan of co sleeping. But tonight, just this once it was okay.

[angelsonthesideline]

Tales From the Ex-Crypt Vol. 9

Wow.. volume 9.. I'm going to wrap it up with this one because I really don't want to live in the past or think about any of these people any more. I'm happy, even if Mr HTG is still not officially mine, I only want to look forward and these crypts will be closed. There are definitely more stories than the ones I've written here.. but this is the one that people are like "NO.. that only happens in movies!"

So, I was minding my own business at work when one of my regular customers walked in with a friend. They had been at a dinner party, and started talking about winter tires, and my customer said that the friend had to come see me for tires, and proceeded to bring him in. His friend wasn't someone who really stood out to me, there was nothing remarkable to me about him. He was nice enough, mild mannered, tall, blue eyes, great smile (I'm a sucker for eyes and smiles) and we went over some tire options. I sent them on their way with the friend having his quotes in hand.

I didn't really think anything more of it, it was busy (snow) season and I was plenty busy. A week or so later, the friend comes back, he had decided on some tires and steel wheels and put his deposit down on the order. I wrote up the order, and handed him his copy, when he asked "so when do I get to see you again?" and my smart ass responded with something to the effect of when he got his tires on.

I hadn't really paid any attention to him prior to that moment, and he wasn't my "type" at all. I went home, and something kept nagging at me about him, so I sent him a text after getting his number off his order slip. This is not something I generally do, but since he'd already asked me out, I didn't feel like I was overstepping. This was also 10 years ago.

I didn't hear anything back until the Monday, when I got a profuse apology for the delay, and the excuse that he had had his phone stolen while having lunch on a patio over the weekend in a busy tourist town.

We started talking regularly, he came in and got his snow tires in the meantime, and we hung out for our first "date". He told me he was on a joint task force for terrorist threats between the FBI and CSIS and had to travel often as the supervisor of his unit. He said he would try to see me as often as possible but that it wasn't always a lot of time. I didn't mind, as I was busy and we facetimed and talked by text and phone. I never felt neglected.

We dated for a year, our relationship was amazing, we got along so well, and he made me strive to be my best self. I lost a ton of weight, was eating well, and made an appointment with my doctor to get my mental health in check.

We never had sex, we just had incredibly hot makeout sessions. I always thought it was odd that he didn't want to go any further, but he said he had had a bad experience and wanted to wait until we were married. As he was on the smaller side, I figured that had something to do with it, but I was so absolutely in love by that point it didn't really matter.

He had all sorts of pics of him in his flack in his suits, in the cars, with the guns, or just in offices. I'd get a text or call saying he was flying in and was driving to see me, but would only have about an hour or two to spend with me before he had to get back to his team and back on the road. It kept things exciting, and I loved surprise visits when he'd text me at work that he was outside.

I wanted to see him more, of course, especially as things got more intense between us. But it was always a matter of time for him. No matter how awful other things in my life were going, whenever asked how things with him were, I would immediately brighten and say they were amazing.

My anxiety was getting to a very dysfunctional level, and I was struggling hardcore to manage it. I went to the doctor, he arranged for me to begin therapy. He was supportive when I told him. This was around our 1 year together. But the next time I got to see him, I got doused with ice water, when I gifted him with an expensive watch and he told me he wanted to take our relationship back a step because of his schedule. His reason was that I was amazing and I deserved to be able to pursue someone who could give me everything he wasn't able to due to his job. I was blindsided and devastated. Because I loved him so much, and was dumb, I agreed to try. I'm an absolutely all-in or all-out type of personality, there is no grey middle ground for me. It is why I do struggle with FWB and casual arrangements, unless I have mentally steeled myself to be all-out and just enjoy the moment without feelings.

My first year of therapy and into my second was almost fully dedicated to dealing with this trauma. I have never had a break up so devastating. I am pretty sure most of the damage came from the shock, but also from the "trying" to move forward with him flitting in and out of my life instead of just cutting clean ties.

I cried a lot.. I was so stressed my cortisol levels caused my body to produce more than double the healthy level of reverse T3, completely messing up my thyroid and metabolism, I gained weight, lost energy and all the other fall out. It took me years to recover, and moving to NS and stumbling upon a doctor who treated the thyroid issues (which seem to be back in working order now after some thyroid hormone therapy).

I have never ever let someone have so much impact on my life, and the only reason I can ever explain it with was just the depth of love I had for this man. I don't even know why or what sucked me in, beyond his confidence and charm. He was one of the many devil Aquarius that I dated, always trying to prove the zodiac/astrology stuff was absolutely wrong (because I am generally SO drawn to Aquarius and have dated that sign more than any other). The zodiac definitely kicked my ass with Aquarius to show me that I fucked around and found out the hard way for sure.

We did the on and off/casual thing for 6 months before it was too toxic and messed me up too badly and I cut him off. It was about 6 months later he crawled back, and we tried it again for about another 6 months before I broke again and cut him off permanently.

I tried to not think of him, and started trying to move on with dating. My longterm ex and I had become gaming friends again by this point, in a mostly healthy and functional way. He had asked me to get an app called Voxter so he could send me voice messages (pre-imsg) and I had. You have to make an account to use Voxter though, and then the app itself didn't pick up my soft voice so I deleted it. But the account remained.

One day, I get an email that I have a new suggested contact/friend on Voxter. I open the email, and low and behold, it is Mr Aquarius Devil... and I'm like "hmm.. I don't have any of his new contact information in my phone" so I go to my computer and open my gmail.. start typing in his name and up pops this picture:

The fucker was MARRIED... and had a KID.

I will say, that was the BEST closure ever.. I was INSTANTLY over his ass instead of lamenting WHY it hadn't worked and what I had possibly done wrong. What I had done wrong, was fall for a fucking dirtbag.

Now, I work with the public.. and I had lots of regular customers that would ask me how I was and what was going on with me, and share what was going on with them. I was angry, and I showed a few of them this pic and was like "look at this fucker, he has a WIFE and KID" and I think it got back to him.

Two weeks after I stumbled upon this picture on his gmail, I got a full confessional email from him.

Turns out, he had been married for 12 years, and his son was 7 at the time I found out. Not only that, but he wasn't in law enforcement, HE WAS A PASTOR.. He had also gotten busted for sleeping with two women in his congregation, and fooling around with two others. He had lost his congregation and his church was sending him out west to some rehab. His wife was staying with him, and moving out there with him. He basically said it was all a lie (everything) and that his therapist said he had to write apology letters and explain himself to his victims (like myself). He said it was an ego trip to compensate for low self esteem. So basically, I was just an ego boosting toy for him.

A year later, I received a random text message from a southern Alberta phone number. I am guessing it was his wife, as all it said was "Have you been in contact with J***?" and I was like "J*** who?" and never heard anything ever again. But I am sure he was already back to his old tricks.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//evening petals. yamaguchi tadashi//

Request: Hi! I just wanted to say that I absolutely LOVE your writing you’re one of my favorite imagine accounts 🥺💕 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with Yamaguchi where he’s like a prince and he throws a masquerade ball and him and the reader start falling for each other and stuff if that’s ok 🥺😔👉🏼👈🏼

Warnings: brief mentions of premarital holding (i know i know.  I’m filthy)

Word Count: 2.5K

Notes:  Me, pulling out all of the obscure knowledge I’ve gained from reading stupid amounts of Victorian era British literature:      👁👄👁

*18th Century Royalty AU?  18th Century Royalty AU.*

This was the last way that Yamaguchi Tadashi wanted to spend his 21st birthday, but he understood.  He was a prince after all.  It was necessary for him to find a wife to sit next to him on the throne, but seriously?  Today of all days?

His parents and the royal staff had been planning this ball for weeks, so it’s not like Yamaguchi could just refuse.  Everyone had worked so hard to make this evening special for him and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.  It was wonderful, really.  Seeing the ballroom of the palace graced in beautiful candlelight, the curtains drawn back so the rose gardens were visible in the slowly approaching dusk, hundreds of people littered around the room, socializing with one another. 

The masks, especially.  It was other-worldly to him.  He probably knew many of the nobles in the room, but with their faces obscured behind the beautifully crafted accessories, he felt like just another person in the room.  For once in his life, he didn’t feel like Prince Tadashi.  He was just- Tadashi.  There weren’t any unnecessary eyes on him.  People weren’t hounding him about trade deals with neighboring kingdoms or trying to appease the future king.  It was so refreshing, being able to move through the crowd without stopping him every few steps to introduce themselves and their entire family.

But, word quickly spread throughout the party as the fingers and whispers became almost impossible to ignore.  “Yes, that gentleman over there.  With the gold Venecian mask.  Yes, that’s him! That’s the prince!” People talked and Yamaguchi knew that it was only a matter of time before he was being swarmed by noblemen.  Everyone in the room knew the true intentions of this party.  It was the opportunity to attempt to get their daughters married away to the most sought after bachelor in the kingdom.  

If I just walk faster, maybe I can-

“Prince Tadashi!”

Shit.

Yamaguchi turned slowly, his smile just visible beneath his half-mask.  “Yes! Hello!  Thank you so much for coming,” he said, bowing gracefully to the gentleman.

The gentleman gave a deep bow, the two young women giving polite curtsies in his presence.  “Your highness, I am Lord Claudius Chavanet of the Gruidor Kingdom.  It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“No, please! The pleasure is all mine!”

“I would like to introduce you to Lady Catherine Chavanet and Lady Adele Chavanet, my eldest daughters.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Prince Tadashi,” the one in the exquisitely painted cat mask says, holding her hand out, fully expecting Yamaguchi to do something other than just stare and smile awkwardly at him.  Coming to the realization that he should do something, he takes her hand and gives it a firm shake.

“I’m very pleased to meet you too, Miss Chavanet,” he says, continuing to shake her hand enthusiastically.  The girl stares at him with a bewildered expression and pulls her hand away, folding them delicately in front of her.  

Her sister, not wanting to fall victim to the prince’s flustered facade, chooses simply to give him another curtsey.  “Thank you for having us, your highness.  Happy birthday.”

“Thank you for the kind wishes.  Now, if you would excuse me,” Yamaguchi smiles, thankful that his mask covers his flustered cheeks.  Before awaiting their farewells, he has turned on his heels, walking briskly away, desperate to find his parents, his friends, anyone that can maybe shield him from all the unwanted attention.  

“Tadashi!” There’s a sigh of relief from the prince at the familiar voice of his father.  Finally, someone to get me out of here.  Yamaguchi turns to make a B-line for the king, his one escapte, but he was sure the disappointment was evident on his face as there was a literal line of people waiting to talk to the king, or rather, to talk to the prince.

He shook his head, trying his best to pull a smile onto his face, as he approached.  “Father.”  Yamaguchi gives his father a short bow.

“Have you been enjoying yourself, my boy?”

“Yessir.  Thank you for doing this for me.  It’s absolutely amazing!”

“I’m glad to hear it.  However, all of these people have been waiting very patiently to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes, I apologize for keeping them waiting.  It was rude of me,” he apologizes, lowering his eyes in shame.  It was not of very princely conduct to keep nobles and other royal families waiting.  His father had made that very clear to him a long time ago.  ‘These people . . . they tend to be very agreeable at face value. But, just as we do, they come to these parties to make powerful connections.  I suggest you keep your most polite head about you whenever they are around.  It could easily cost you the kingdom or, worse, your life if you aren’t careful.’

“Don’t fret too much, Tadashi.  It’s your birthday, after all!  They can wait on you,” his father bellowed, giving him a kind wink.

Tadashi isn’t sure how much time had passed, but he does know that the servants came by three times to offer him a drink and he also knows that he will gladly be taking them up on their offer as his throat had grown dry from endless greetings and polite conversations.  After tonight, he was pretty sure that he was going to be okay never going to another party again.  He met close to a hundred eligible young women and, yet, they all ran together in his head.  That girl over there, was she a Terlee or was she Princess Sakura of the Atalon Kingdom? Wait- or was that Lady Norah Blaisha?  He found himself growing frustrated as he tried to remember who everyone was.  He felt so lousy!  How was he meant to pick someone to marry if he didn’t even know anyone’s name?

His father’s firm hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.  “Well, I think that’s everyone.  Anyone catch your eye?”  There was a gleam of hope in his father’s eyes.  His parents have waited a long time for this day.  For the day when he would begin courtship with a young woman, but how was he meant to tell his father that he didn’t remember a single exchange that just happened?

He couldn’t do that.  He couldn’t disappoint his father like that.  Instead, he simply nodded, eyes shut tight in a painfully fake smile.  “Yes, there were a few that I found very agreeable.”

“I’m glad to hear that, son.”

Yamaguchi was ready to ask if he could be excused to go find his friends, but the words got lost somewhere in his throat.  At the edge of the crowd, a young woman sat, her black mask decorated with ornate gold twists and turns of filigree, splashes of little red embroidered roses around the edges.  He’s sure he would’ve remembered that mask.  It was easily the prettiest one that he had seen all evening.  He would’ve complimented it, but Tadashi didn’t remember being introduced to her.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Over there, the girl with the black and gold mask?”

“Yes, I see her.  What about her?”

“Do you know who she is?”  Yamaguchi asks, not taking his eyes away.

“I believe that is the youngest daughter of Lord Sauret.  She’s closer to your age than her sister, but her sister is unmarried and well- you know how it is.”

He did.  The eldest girls were to be married before the younger ones were allowed to engage in courtships, but he couldn’t just let this opportunity slip through his fingers.  It was the first person to really catch his attention, how could he not introduce himself?

“I would like to be introduced.”

“Tadashi-” his father warns. 

“You’ve said it yourself, connections are vital.  That’s all this is: forming connections.”

The king released a heavy sigh, unable to say no to his son’s pleading eyes.  “Fine.  Come along.  We’ll go find her father.”

In a matter of minutes, Yamaguchi Tadashi was grinning one of his first genuine smiles of the evening as the two fathers introduced their children.  

“Your highnesses, it is my absolute honor to introduce my youngest daughter to you both:  Miss Y/F/N Y/L/N.”  You do a low curtsy as your father introduces you to the members of the royal family, keeping your eyes trained to the floor.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Y/L/N,” Yamaguchi smiles, bowing deeply in your presence.

“And my son, Prince Yamaguchi Tadashi of the Rozu Kingdom.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, your highness,” you reply, a polite smile on your face.  

Yamaguchi’s hand went to the back of his neck, unsure of what to say next.  Honestly, he didn’t think he would get this far and no one had ever taught him what to do in these sort of situations.  Was he supposed to ask you to dance or should he stay here talking to you?  Does he compliment you?  He was meant to lead the conversation, yet he didn’t even know where to start.  Should he ask if you’re having fun?  No, that would be a bad conversation starter.  

“Do you like roses?” 

Good one, Tadashi.

“I’m sorry?”  Your face contorts into a soft look of confusion as you fail to comprehend his sudden question.

He can feel his face grow hot, averting his eyes awkwardly.  He wishes that he could just hide behind the curtains and disappear like he would do when he was a child.  This was by far the worst social interaction that he’s ever had and last week he said ‘yes, thank you’ when his servant asked what he wanted for dinner, so the bar for bad social interaction had been set pretty high for the prince. “Well, your mask- it has roses.  So, I just wondered.”  

Your hand reaches up towards the mask instinctively, fingers tracing over the little embroidered flowers.  “Oh, right.  My mother used to love them.”

“Really?  What’s her favorite flower now?”

Your face flashes through about a hundred different emotions before finally settling into a look of sadness. 

“Oh my God! Wait- I am so so sorry!  I didn’t think!  Please, forgive me, miss!” Yamaguchi frets, bowing in apology probably thirty times in a matter of seconds.

If he wasn’t desperately pleading for your forgiveness, you probably would’ve been more upset, but you couldn’t deny that his flustered mannerisms were, in a way, sort of cute.  His face was as red as the roses on your mask and he was waving his hands around frantically, muttering that he was ‘so so sorry.’  

Yamaguchi slowly looks into your face when the sound of sweet giggles are coming from your direction.  There’s a smile on your lips that almost instantly soothes him.  It radiates the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day and he can’t help melting as he looks into your shining eyes.  “Have you seen the gardens?”  He asks, returning your gaze, gesturing out the window to the rose garden shining gold in the disappearing daylight.

“That’s why I chose to sit here, so I could look out at them,” you say, nodding slightly.

“Would you like to see them?  Up close, I mean,” Yamaguchi offers.

“Your highness, I don’t know if that’s appropriate,” you ease, eyes flitting over to where your father was engaged in a casual conversation with the king.

The young prince simply shrugs and gives a dreamy sigh, an unknown burst of confidence bubbling up within his chest.  “It’s a shame, really.  The China Roses fully bloomed today and I was hoping to get a good look at them before the sun went down.”  He offers you a sly smile, unfitting of the usually awkward prince.  “But, if you don’t want to see them, that’s okay.  I’m sure I could find someone else to accompany me, but I doubt that they’d be half as breathtaking.”  

In the golden light of the evening, your blush blended in with the medley of colors dancing across your skin.  How could you possibly refuse now?  You reach out, taking his expectant hand, letting him guide you discreetly away from the party and out into the beautiful serenity of the palace gardens.

Tadashi’s head begins to clear as he is finally able to escape the overwhelming bustling atmosphere of the party.  He rids himself of his mask, running a quick hand through his hair, finally being able to breath easily again and drop the ‘charming prince’ act that he was expected to uphold.  He could finally just be Tadashi once more.  

Following his lead, you untie the strings of your mask, letting it fall into your hand.  It’s here, in this moment in time, that Prince Yamaguchi Tadashi of the Rozu Kingdom wishes that he had the ability to stop the world around him, staying in this frame of life forever.  You weren’t looking at him, examining one of the flowers that hadn’t quite blossomed into its full beauty yet.  In the disappearing daylight, your delicate features caught the fleeting rays, casting a soft orange glow over you.  It was a masterpiece of nature that he wanted to have saved as a portrait forever.  Happiness surrounding every inch of your being as you reveled in the stunning garden that completely encircled you.

So, this is the feeling, huh? The butterflies sneaking up into his stomach and the clouds fogging his mind, but not in the same way that they were when he was at the party.  This was a better feeling.  He wasn’t shrouded with anxieties, worrying about what to say or what to do.  Rather, his head was buzzing with thoughts about how beautiful you look, so undoubtedly happy wandering around his gardens with him.  Thinking that it would be completely inappropriate to kiss you right now, but maybe that could stay here, tucked between petals, protected by thorns.  

But, if it was so wrong, why were your hands on his chest? And why weren’t you pulling away from him?  If it was so socially taboo, why were you kissing him back and why didn’t he want to stop pressing his lips to yours?  

Yet, here, shrouded in the approaching darkness, tender kisses were shared between the glowing evening petals.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 90

Warnings: none 

Tagging @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​, @alievans007​

“I have a serious bone to pick with you,” Riley scolds, thousands of miles away in her dorm room at Colorado State. Clad in a black and green plaid hunting jacket that’s miles too big on her petite frame, vibrant red hair tucked up into a ‘trucker style’ ball cap. “Why did I have to find out about this from Douchey McDouche Face?”

Despite there being a near fourteen year age difference between them and no blood ties whatsoever, their relationship has always been strong; even with the familial drama and the miles that have continuously kept them separated. Esme can vividly remember meeting her for the first time; a then three year old gazing up at her -all of seventeen- with pure adoration and idolization. That cute little ginger with her massive green eyes and her already fiery personality; drawn to Esme and her then tomboyish style and her penchant -despite her own small stature- for full contact sports.  She can even recall how good it had felt; having someone that DID look at her that way.

For years she'd been practically invisible; the last child between her mother and father, treated as if there’d been simply no love left to bestow on her after piling it on five boys. Her father had been her only source of real affection; the only person who’d ever showed pride in her achievements and never dragged her down for her choices or belittled her passions and interests. When he died, everything went to shit. While her mother’s   toxicity increased and she kicked the emotional abuse up several notches, her brothers had all tried -in their obnoxious and overbearing ways- to step up and take their father’s place in her life. They’d all failed, causing her to become uncharacteristically sullen and withdrawn; prone to cutting when the depressions and feelings of inadequacy hit especially hard and her mother no longer hide her rapidly growing hatred for her only daughter. Life had been pretty dark; many moments where she thought the world would be a better place without her in it and she’d actually been in possession of handfuls of pills and had the desire -and the chance- to end the suffering.

Then ‘The Sarge’ had come along. Filling that fatherly role without expecting or demanding it; letting her call the shots and make the moves when it came to accepting him into her life. And he’d ‘shown up’ in ways her mother and brothers never bothered; quietly and lovingly, showing interest in her life and valuing her opinions and thoughts and getting involved in the things she enjoyed. She was no longer the only one on the wrestling squad or the lacrosse team or at swim meets without someone there to support her. Sarge would always be there; sitting in the front row, enthusiastically cheering her on and nudging other parents with his elbow while proudly declaring “that’s MY girl!”.

And just when she thought things couldn’t possibly get better, they did.  Sarge was granted full custody of his only child; her mother choosing her career over that adorable redhead. Despite their age difference, she and Riley had become inseparable. Happily and willingly taking the little girl to the movies or the mall; listening to preschool gossip while out for dinner at McDonalds, letting the little girl climb into bed with her during thunderstorms or after a bad dream. Over the years they’d both been branded as  the ‘black sheep’; ostracized  for their ‘lifestyle choices’ and how ‘wayward and lost’ they’d managed to become.

Nothing brings two people together like shared alienation and pure hatred and spite for their ‘enemies’.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Esme attempts to reason, as she conducts the video chat in one of the ICU’s private family meeting rooms.  “I know finals are coming up. And you’ve been busy with placement. I didn’t want to add THIS to your plate.”

She’d left Tyler in extremely compassionate hands: a quiet and gentle Andy, who’d been standing over his sleeping friend and in the midst of a traditional Aboriginal blessing and prayer for healing.  She’d had to leave;  the purity and the beauty of both Andy’s heart and the moment too profound for her already fragile emotions to handle.  Instead she spends the time with both her sister and Addie; the infant cuddled close to her chest, a receiving blanket emblazoned with images of Baby Dumbo covering her as she nurses.  She had terribly missed even the simplicity and familiarity of such a common occurrence; the light weight of her daughter’s tiny body against hers, those tiny hands that gently  knead at her breast or grab at her necklace and reach for her hair.

“THIS is my brother in law,”  Riley says. “You know how much I love the guy. How much he’s the cat’s ass and I totally approve of how he treats you like a queen.”

“You’re one of the few people in my life who do. Love him.”

“Well NOT everyone can have exceptional taste.   They’re just bitter and jealous. You got out of that shit hole and away from their crap.   They’re all still stuck in and thriving on it; too chicken shit to ever think on their own, in fear of pissing off Mommy Dearest. Tyler’s the best thing that came along to that family in...well...forever.  They’re just pissed they can’t control him; that he gives zero fucks about any of them and doesn't shy away from letting them know.”

“Mommy Dearest still insists he’s the WORST thing to ever happen. That I’ve somehow been forced into this life and he’s somehow brainwashed me and has some strong and powerful hold over me that keeps me around.”

Riley gives a derisive snort.

“I mean even in her condition, she still managed to send me an email asking me when I was going to get my shit together and realize ‘that man’ is nothing but poison and bad news.  She didn’t even remember the twins’ birthdays or Millie’s. Or she did and just didn’t give a shit. She’s always treated those kids differently from the rest. All because she has this stupid, imaginary axe to grind against Tyler.”

“Fuck her,” Riley snarls. “You’re way too good for her. For that whole damn family. You always have been. And he is DEFINITELY way too good for them. Probably why none of your brothers like him; he makes them feel inferior and most definitely puts their masculinity into doubt. They’re probably pissed off their wives think of him when they’re flicking the bean.”

Esme frowns. “Riley!”

“Please tell me you’re still not bringing your bullshit; the whole insecurity crap. Who cares if other women lust after your husband? Or if they get themselves off thinking about him? Who is the one HE is getting off in person?  Who gets to have THAT going down on her whenever she damn well wants? Cut your shit; he only has eyes for you.”

“It’s not him I don’t trust.”

“He knows how to say no. I’m sure he has, many times.  No one else exists in his eyes. There’s not one woman in this world that would make that man unfaithful. So stop. Let other women...and probably more than a handful of men...fantasize about him. You get the real thing. I mean, he is so hot, he almost turned ME straight. Almost.”

Esme laughs at that.

“And that last picture you sent? The family one you guys did before Christmas? Whoa! Dude is looking thick and buff as fuck! What are you feeding him?”

“His favourite meal. Remember what he told you THAT was?”

“I sure as shit do! It’s the same as mine. Atta boy. The man from down under likes to spend a lot of time down under. That’s the spirit! And speaking of my favorite Aussie, what the fuck Tyler? What kind of god awful shitty mess did you get yourself caught up in?”

“Godawful shitty mess does not even begin to accurately describe what happened, believe me.”

“I called your place because I wanted to come down and visit for a couple of weeks next month. Finally see Australia! Bring the new girl for you all the meet. Cuddle my nieces and nephews and spoil the shit out of them with presents and candy.  And what do I find out? What does Fire Chief Dick for Brains tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Ry. I should have called you. I just didn’t want to burden you. I know you have a lot going on with school and placement and your social life and…”

“Fuck all of that. None of that matters. You’re my sister. That’s my brother in law. The father of my nieces and nephews. You’re my family.  All that matters to me is you guys.”

“Please don’t take it personally. It’s just a huge mess and my brain is not functioning at a hundred percent right now. All I’ve been concentrating on is him.  He’s my number one priority right now; helping him heal and getting him out of here and sent to a hospital back home. I didn’t purposefully leave you out.”

“Do you need me to come? Just say the word MeMe. I’ll get on the next flight.”

Esme smiles at the nickname; a little something a then four year old Riley had come up with because she couldn’t properly pronounce her new step sister’s name.  “I missed that,” she says. “Hearing you call me that.”

“You’ll always be MeMe to me. Do you need me there? Do you WANT me there? Because I will put everything aside and get to you. You know I will.”

“As much I’d love to see you and have you here, I don’t want you to do that. I want you to concentrate on school and your placement and your new love.  And Tyler would want all that, too. He would not expect you to drop everything for him. He’d give you shit for it, you know he would.”

“He is such a stubborn fuck, I swear. Love the guy, but he does my head in. And this isn’t about expecting it from me; it’s about me wanting to be there for you. I want to be there for you. Let me be there for you.”

“Ry, I love you and appreciate you so much. And I miss you. Terribly. But this isn’t the place for you. You need to stay where you are and concentrate on school and just get on with things.”

“How am I supposed to do that when Tyler is messed up like his? How am I supposed to concentrate on things when you’re going through this?”

“Because that’s what we BOTH want you to do. There is no reason for you to put your life on hold to come here. Everything is so up in the air right now.  There’s no timetable for his recovery; we have no idea how long it’s going to be until he can be sent home. And even then he’s going to be admitted to a hospital there.  It’ll be awhile until he’s home, home.”

“This is just such bullshit,” Riley sighs heavily. “I am so sorry. MeMe. That you’re going through this. I know how much you love him. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like; seeing him so torn up. It was bad, wasn’t it. What was done to him?”

“It was pretty damn bad.  He was in really rough shape when he was brought in.”

“How rough?”

“The roughest. Worse than seven years ago. Way worse. He told me that he didn’t want to die, but he was expecting it.”

“Jesus…” Riley breathes. “...for a guy like Tyler to come right out and admit that…”

“It was horrible; seeing him like that. I will never forget that as long as I live. I thought what I saw on the bridge...had to do on the bridge...was awful. But seeing him? After the surgeries and all the wounds so new and fresh?  I can’t even begin to describe it. How it made me feel.”

“I am so sorry,  I am so goddamn sorry.”

“I mean, that’s the love of my life. The father of my kids. The strongest person I’ve ever known. And to see him like that…like this…”  she takes a deep, shaky breath and releases it slowly.  “...it hurts. So much. That’s my whole heart, Riley. HE’S my whole heart.”

“I’m going to come there. To Dhaka. I don’t want you going through this alone. I don’t…”

“I’m fine,” Esme assures her. “I really am. I’m not alone either; a lot of friends are here to help out and watch over me. And now I’ve got this little muffin…” she lifts the edge of the blanket and glances down at Addie; those huge brown eyes staring up at her, then crinkling when the infant smiles.   “...it’s better now that she’s here. Or at least that one of them is here.”

“Do you want me to go to Australia? I can stay at your place, help with the kids. As much as I hate Fire Chief Dick for Brains, I’ll put up with him. Just for you.”

“The kids are fine, I promise. I just miss them. A lot. Once he’s transferred home, it’ll be a whole new ballgame.”

“Any remote idea on what that’s going to be?”

“Two weeks. Three at the most.”

“Shit…”  Riley shakes her head. “...oh Tyler, what the hell bruh…”

“It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse. There could have been five kids with no daddy.”

“I don’t even want to think about that. How is he now? How is he doing?”

“He’s being weaned off of sedation. He has wakeful moments; periods where he’s pretty lucid.  His memory is shit; he asks the same questions at least six times an hour. That’s just the meds though. They said once the sedation is totally out of him, his brain will go back to normal.”

“Whatever normal is for Tyler,” Riley chides.  

“He’s able to stay up for quite a while. He can carry on a conversation, but he gets confused really easily. And then he gets frustrated and embarrassed and he starts shutting down.  And his emotions are all over the place; joking and somewhat happy one minute,  a weepy mess the next.”

“How’s the PTSD been?”

“Now that he’s more coherent? It’s been a mess. When he wakes up he’s very disoriented and if he’s alone or there’s people in the room he doesn’t know…”

“Freaks out?”

“He loses it. His fight or flight kicks in. And you know Tyler…”

“Always picks fight.”

Esme nods.  “And he doesn’t know what he’s doing or saying when he’s like that and he’s freaking out because he thinks I’m dead and no one can convince him otherwise. A PSW came in; while I was out. Woke him. To wash his hair and trim his beard.”

“Oh no…”

“He fucking lost it, Ry.  Which I knew would happen and is why I told them NOT to send someone in.  He just went off. It took four people to hold him down, and that was AFTER they gave him sedation. You would have thought nothing was wrong with him; that’s how hard he fought.  This is a man who can’t even walk right now. And he still scared the shit out of the PSW. Threatened to break his neck with his bare hands and told him how he’s done it before. Many times. Then told him he’d rip his head off and shove it up his ass.”

“So what’s the difference in him after all this? That sounds like Tyler on a good day.”

Esme can’t help but laugh.  “I think he made the PSW piss his pants.”

“Serves him right if he can’t follow instructions. Is it in his chart? That no one is supposed to come in?”

Esme nods.

“Well fuck him then.  Read the patient’s chart. It’s not that hard. Is it wrong that I’d give my right arm to see him rip someone’s head off and shove it up their ass? I bet he could do it too. I bet he’s done shit that defies logic.”

“Well he did once kill two people with a garden rake.”

“How fitting. A Rake, using a rake.  Perfection.  What’s his injuries like? Kyle says they’re pretty gnarly.”

“Why do you sound so pleased at the thought?”

“I’m in nursing school. This shit excites me. I can’t help it.”

“Gunshot wound to the back, lots of stitches, a torn MCL and ACL, open fracture of the right femur…”

“Do you have pictures of it?”

“Of what?”

“His femur.”

“Hell no, I don’t. Why would I want pictures of that?”

“Because that would be fucking amazing to see. Was it a true open fracture? Bone protruding and everything?”

“I guess. His friend said the bone was showing.”

“That is wild. I would have loved pictures; before AND after.”

Esme grimaces. “You’re disturbed.”

“Did they give him an ilizarov?”

“They said it would be on for a least three months. He is NOT happy.”

“Can you take pictures of that? And the gunshot wound?”

“Riley…”

“For scientific reasons, I swear. I just want to see them. I could even show my one prof and Tyler could be a case study.”

“I’d rather my husband NOT be one, thank you. He’s not your show and tell project.”

“Just go and take a couple pictures. Please? Pretty please? With  whipped cream and sprinkles and a cherry on top?”

“He’s sleeping. I am not going in there and waking him up because you're a freak.”

“Best time to do it; when he’s sleeping.”

“I would never do that to him. There’s this thing called consent. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it…”

“When he wakes up, ask him if you can take pictures. If you tell them they’re for Red, he’ll be good with it. I know he will. He loves me.”

“He does, actually.”

“I can’t wait to see you guys. I’ll come down; once he’s in a hospital there. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

“I talked to Mildred by the way…”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Millie is NOT short for Mildred.”

“Actually, it is.”

“Her name is not Mildred, though.”

“She LOVES when I call her that. Loves it.  Anyway, how grown up is she sounding all of a sudden? It’s like she’s six going on sixteen! What is up with that kid?”

“She’s her father. What more do I have to say?”

“She even sounds like him! The way she says certain words and little sayings she has. I couldn’t believe it; it was like talking to a mini, girl version of him.  Freaky!  She’s pretty pissed, huh? At you?”

Esme sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“I told her to smarten up. That she’s got a great mom and she needs to appreciate it AND you. I told her to get her shit together and respect you. That if her dad finds out what she’s up to, it won’t be pretty. I said that he’ll stick up for her mom no matter WHO is disrespecting her. I think that scared her.”

“There’s nothing she hates more than the thought of her daddy being mad at her. That’s her WORST fear, I swear.”

“Well she needs to cut the attitude. I don’t tolerate that shit. I don’t think I’m the favorite Aunt anymore, by the way.”

“You’re her only Aunt.”

“I guess I’m excommunicated then.  And speaking of being an aunt, let me see my little poop face.”

Esme removes the blanket covering Addie, then holds her onto the arms and places her in line with the camera.

“Oh my God…” Riley gives an excited squeal.  “...look at Auntie Ry Ry’s little poop face! You’re getting so big!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Esme laughs. “She just got into the newborn clothes. She’ll be four months.”

“She’s still grown a lot since the last time I saw her. Look at you, Addie! Look how beautiful you are. Look at how much you look like your mommy! You’re the lucky one, huh? Getting your momma’s looks? She’s smiling, MeMe. That smile is everything! She has Tyler’s smile.”

“It’s the one thing they all inherited. And she also got his appetite. I really need to get back to feeding her and I know it’s not the most pleasant thing to see while trying to have a conversation.”

“I don’t know, MeMe. I’ve had to look at worse things. You’ve got really nice boobs, actually. Tell him I said he’s lucky.”

“You’re too much. But I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

“As soon as you guys get home, I’ll be on my way,” Riley promises. “And if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me. Right away, hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Chin up, okay? He’s got this. He’s a tough shit. He’ll be alright.”

“I know he will,” Esme says confidently, then blows her step sister a kiss in farewell before killing the video feed.

****

She pokes her head into the room when she returns, smiling when she finds him awake and sitting up in bed; the angle of the mattress slowly increasing with each hour, giving his back used to being in different positions and not allowing the muscles to settle and stiffen.

“Hey,” she greets. “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting you. Just taking me forever; hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I’m here, you might as well just tell me what you want to say.”

“I’m gonna send it anyway…” a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “...I’m almost done. Be patient.”

“That’s more your thing; being patient.”

“You’ve been plenty patient the last couple of days. There...all done...sent.”

Her phone vibrates within the pocket of her hoodie, and she pulls it out to check the message; smiling at the simple -yet honest and heartfelt- words. “You’re cute,” she gushes. “I’m going to send you one back.”     She steps out into the hall; composing her own text. Just a short and sweet: I love you too.   Accompanied by a selfie of her puckering her lips for a kiss. “Well…” she pokes her head back into the room.  “...did you get it?”

“Yep.”  A broad smile spreads across his face. “Want me to send something back? A dick pic?”

“Not when there’s a tube in it, I don’t. I do have a separate file for them though; where I put all the dick pics you send me when you’re away from home.”

“You’re dirty.”

“You’re the one who sends them! Where’s Andy?”

“He went downstairs to get something to eat. I told him I’d be fine by myself.”

“Pretty awesome, huh? That he can all this way to see you?”

“Yeah, it is.  He’s a good guy; I’m glad I sucked it up and talked to him that day at the school. Why are you poking your head in like that? Why don’t you just come in?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Are you naked?”

“You wish.”

“Is it a blowjob?”

Esme frowns. “What is wrong with you?”

“A lot. I probably couldn’t get it up anyway. Not with a tube sticking out of it and all the meds I’m on. What’s the surprise? Want me to close my eyes? Will it make it better?”

“This is going to be an awesome surprise no matter what. But go ahead.”

“You ARE naked, aren’t you. Baby, as much I appreciate your willingness and your effort to make me feel better at all costs, that part of me is not gonna work right now.”

“I am definitely NOT naked. It’s going to be a while before you get to see me with no clothes on. You are nowhere close to being ready for that.”

“You’re underestimating me.”

“That’s one thing I never do, trust me. You want the surprise or not? I promise you, this is an amazing one.”

“Even better than when the kids make me breakfast in bed and cupcakes for my birthday?”

“Even better,” she says, and then waits for him to close his eyes; carrying Addie into the room. “Don’t open them until I tell you to.  I brought you a little visitor.”

“One of those hospital therapy dogs? Like a corgi or some shit?”

“Way better and way cuter.”

“I don’t know, wife. Those are pretty damn cute.”

“Trust me, this is much better and will cheer you up a hundred times more than any dog ever could.”  She stands on the right side of the bed; easier to transfer Addie onto his good arm.  And she removes the receiving blanket draped over her daughter as she leans over the railing; a smile already curving the baby’s lips and her tiny hands reaching for her father.  “No sudden movements, alright? You don’t want to accidentally hurt the surprise. Open your eyes.”

He does as he’s told. A brief moment of confusion etched on his face as he looks down at the baby in his wife’s arms, then up at her. “Are you serious?”

“Andy brought her.  She’s been missing you just as much as you’ve been missing her. Look at her; she’s already smiling at you. She’s so happy to see you. There’s no one she loves the way she loves her daddy.  Wait until you see her little outfit.”

“I thought she wasn’t coming until tomorrow. That Ovi was bringing her.”  His eyes narrow. “How long was I asleep??”

“There was a change of plans; a little something Andy and Ovi came up with together. Here…”  she gently lays Addie along his left forearm; settling the baby’s head in the crook of his elbow. “...look at her little shirt? Isn’t it perfect? Daddy’s little peanut. Andy made it for her.”

“It is perfect. SHE’S perfect.”

“Look at her looking at you...look at that smile..all she sees is her daddy. Not what happened to him. Feels good, right? To have her here? To have her in your arms like this?”

“Yeah…” emotion chokes at him, and he leans down to press a kiss to Addie’s forehead, lightly chuckling when those tiny hands grab at his hair and his nose. “...feels amazing, actually.”

Esme leans into him, draping an arm across his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure she feels the same way. She definitely missed you.”

“I missed her,” he says, and kisses the tip of Addie’s nose. “Daddy missed you so much, baby girl. So much.”   The tears come now; a mixture of relief and happiness combined with the anger and frustration at being laid up and unable to perform even the simplest tasks for himself.

“Hey…” Esme places a kiss to his temple and rubs and squeezes his shoulder. “...it’s okay.  All uphill from here, remember? You’re doing amazing; don’t doubt that. Please don’t doubt that.”

“I didn’t think I’d get this chance again; to see her, hold her. I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t.”

“Well you’re a tough cookie, Tyler Rake. If there’s anyone on this earth that can survive THAT and do this well, it’s you. I know how much you love proving people wrong. And you’re doing that. I also know how much you want to get out of Dhaka. I know that’s your main driving force for trying as hard as you are.”

“I just want to go home.  Even if it is to a hospital there. I just want to be home.”

“Soon,” she promises. “And if you keep doing as well as you are, it will be even sooner than any of us thought. I don’t want you to hurt yourself though, okay? I know sometimes you try to do to much, too soon. And I don’t want you doing that. I don’t want you busting your ass to the point it sets you back.  I know you don’t want that either.”

“I just want to feel my legs. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t. It freaks me out. I wake up and I forget it’s only temporary and I fucking lose it. You know that’s one of the worst things possible in my eyes; not being able to do things, not being able to have the life I had.”

“There’s no reason to worry about that. In a couple days, you’ll get the feeling back. This too shall pass.  It won’t be a while until you’re back to being the old you, but you WILL get there. I promise.  And you can’t tell me this won’t help. Having Addie here. That it won’t lift your spirits a bit.”

“She already has. She’s lifted them a lot, actually. I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this again. See you, see her.”

“Well, you DID get to do it. We’re here. We’re BOTH here.”  She moves her hand to the nape of his neck, massaging gently.  “Are you okay with her? She seems pretty happy where she is; I don’t think she’s going to want you to put her down anytime soon.”

“I’m good.  I’m not giving her up.  They’d have to pry her out of my cold, dead hands. She’s getting bigger, huh?”

“I thought the same thing when I first saw her. Feels like we’ve been away from her for a lot longer than we have. She’s still super tiny though.”

“She is. Just a wee little thing. Like her momma,” he presses another kiss to Addie’s brow. “Beautiful like your momma too.”

“In case you haven’t noticed by now, daddy is extremely  biased when it comes to mommy,” Esme addresses the infant.  “He always has been.”

“It’s not being biased when it’s the truth. It still feels weird; how light she is. Even Tanner with all his issues was never this small. She’s definitely all you. Now I’ll have two people small enough to pick up and put in my pocket.”

She combs her fingers through his hair and pecks his cheek. “You sure have your cute moments.”

“You seem to bring that side of me out.”

“Well it’s a very nice side.  But I like all your sides, so…”

Smiling, he tips his head up towards her, and she leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

“I know you didn’t agree with it,” she says, when he turns his attention back to Addie. “Her coming here.”

She notices the wince that briefly takes hold of his face; the simple action of using his right hand to tug the baby’s socks back up causing pain in the injured shoulder.

“I was just worried. About her being here if things went to shit again. I know we think they’re all gone; Asif’s people.  But I didn’t want to take that chance. Especially with her.”

“There hasn’t been any movement. Not even a whisper of trouble.  And you know Anil; he’s got all kinds of ears to the ground. I think it’s really over this time. I think we’re finally going to be able to put this place behind us. It’s time; to leave Dhaka behind.”

“I definitely don’t plan on coming back for a visit, that’s for sure. So if you have Dhaka on that ‘places like you’d like to vacation’ list, you can go ahead and erase it right now.”

“I have had enough of Dhaka to last me a lifetime, believe me. You know, you have this real habit of choosing extremely dramatic and painful ways to get out of taking me anywhere.”

Tyler grins. “Neither of the times I bailed on you were intentional, I swear.”

“I think we should stop planning ahead when it comes to going away. It’s like we jinx it somehow; talking about it too soon.  How about next time, we just decide on the spur of the moment to go somewhere? That way we shock the universe with our spontaneity and it doesn’t have time to recover until we’re BACK from our trip.”

“Sounds good to me. And we’re going to need one; a trip. When all this is over. I know it’s going to be a while, but we are definitely going to need a vacation.”

“Well tell your pocketbook to expect Bora Bora or The Maldives. I’m getting my suite on the water.”

“I will get you whatever you want, baby. Whatever your little heart desires.  You just tell me what it is and I’ll do it. I’ll get it for you.”

“You healthy and back on your feet.  That’s all I want.”

“I’m working on it.”

“I know you are,” she kisses his temple. “And you’re doing amazing. I’m so proud of you, Tyler. So fucking proud of you.”

“You’re going to make me cry. Again.”

“I can’t help that you’re so beautiful when you cry. And it would be happy tears, right?”

“Very happy tears.” He lays his palm on Addie’s stomach, all of her fingers wrapping around one of his. “She’s tiny, but she’s strong. Has a hell of a grip.”

“She’s like her daddy. Tough as nails.”

“I don’t know,” he smiles up at her. “I think her momma has me beat in the toughness department.”

“I think…” she places a kiss to his brow, then the bridge of his nose. “...you totally underestimate yourself. He does, doesn’t he, Addie? Underestimate himself. Tell daddy he’s tough as hell and the strongest, bravest person you know. Tell him how the sun shines out of his ass and he poops glitter and pisses rainbows. That’s how you look at him, might as well tell him too. Because his ego isn’t quite big enough, yet.”

He smirks. “My ego took a hell of a beating.”

“Well tell your ego to shut the fuck up,” she affectionately tousles his hair. “There was nothing you could have done, Tyler. You didn’t know this going to happen; that things were going to go this bad. There was nothing to suggest that he who shall not be mentioned was capable of something like that.”

“We both knew he was sketchy as fuck.”

“Being sketchy and being psychotic are two totally different things. You did everything right; you got Neysa and Aarev out, you went back to get him out.  There’s no way you could have known what he was going to do.”

“Should have listened to Koen and left his ass there.”

“Koen said that?”

He nods.

“You remember that? Him saying that?”

“I can remember things that happened BEFORE it all went down.  Things that I said, that other people said. I can remember getting Neysa and Aarev out and going back in to get N...him.  But after that, it’s pretty muddled.”

“But you do remember things?”

“I THINK  I’m remembering them. I THINK  it’s things that happened. I’m not sure though; if they’re real or my brain is just making shit up. I DO remember...vividly...him shooting me in the back. Everything else? I don’t know what’s real and what I’m imagining. And honestly, babe? I don’t think I want to remember.”

“But you might. And that could get pretty scary for you; things coming back to you.”

“I know.”

“Once we’re home, we’ll get you some help okay? Some therapy. For the mental stuff.”

“Alright.”

“I know you hate that side; seeing therapists and talking to strangers and having to take meds. But you know what I hate? Seeing your brain torturing you like it does. I hate that you have to go to war every damn day with your own mind. I just want you to be okay.  You know that, right?”

“I do know that. I’ve never doubted that. Not once in the last seven years.”

“Even the toughest need help, sometimes. And I’ll get you that help. I promise. I’ve got you. Always.  You’re my ride or die, remember?”

“Yeah…” he chuckles. “...you’re mine too.”

“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him. “Inside AND out. You’re already on your way.  And I’m not going anywhere. I'll be here, right beside you, every step of the way.”

“What about after? When I AM better? You still going to stick around? The whole pain meds thing?”

“We talked about that. You know where I stand; about you needing to deal with that. That’s a deal breaker, Tyler. Because I can’t live like that. And I won’t let our kids live like that either. I love you. More than you could possibly ever comprehend. But that? I can’t do THAT.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to. I don’t want to lose you. Or my kids. Whatever I need to do...whatever YOU need me to do...I’ll do it. No hesitations. Whatever it is.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? Let’s concentrate on what we’re going through right now. One thing at a time.  I don’t want you to worry about anything else, alright?”

He nods. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

“I love you,” she says, and leans down to press a kiss to his lips.   “We’re going to get through this. Our track record for getting through tough shit is at one hundred percent.  I want to keep it that way.”

“Yeah…” he closes his eyes as she rests her forehead against his. “...so do I.”

[nosleepstillweak]

cruller

My favorite type of donut is a cruller. Pity the man that begins his own love story with a monologue about his favorite pastry, but I feel like there’s something to be said here. It’s not like your traditional cake or long john or eclair. A cruller is in an avenue all its own. For one, it just looks cooler. Who doesn’t like a twisty donut? The dough is shaped into this endless spiral that flakes beautifully in the oven. Furthermore, the consequent increase in surface area also leads to the creation of these little pockets that are the perfect space for the outer glaze to nestle into. Top the whole affair off with a flawlessly reduced jelly filling and it’s like eating ambrosia. This opinion definitely isn’t mitigated by the fact that a literal goddess is the one to serve me these treats every morning, yet I still face opposition.

“You’re just a fucking weirdo, Jason.”

These are the words of my donut-apathetic comrade, Malachi. He’s a bit of an old-head, if you were to ask me, but sometimes the bluntness of his responses are in my best interest. As of late, he has been the staunchest--and sole--opponent of my onset infatuation with the owner of our newly discovered cafe destination.

“These twists taste like garbage. Admit it, you just have a thing for Donut Girl.” A key indicator of his disdain is the fact he continues to call her “Donut Girl,” even though her name-tag would lead me to believe that she actually goes by Sadie. Then again, given my previous history with “Pizza Chick” and “Gas Station Lady,” it’s fair to say that I haven’t necessarily made the best name for myself when choosing my romantic interests in the wholesale industry.

“Unsubstantiated opinions on Sadie aside, you can’t tell me that this isn’t a damn good donut.” I mean, he could, but he’d just be a liar. I take another bite in between sentences. “Plus, I don’t think you saw the way she looked at me this time. That was definitely some sort of signal.”

I can’t say that I’m not offended by Malachi’s responding scoff. “Yeah, a signal to round up all the idiots. I can’t believe you’re twenty-three years old and you still crush after women like you’re in a teen drama.” He scowls at me as I finish off the last of the half-dozen with a smile on my face. “Those donuts literally taste like sugar-coated metal.”

“Oh, heaven forbid they contain the slightest hint of high fructose corn syrup.” In traditional old-head fashion, Malachi is the type to complain about foods nowadays being too sugary; he gets a headache from eating a rope of black licorice. “Gather ‘round, folks, Old Man Malachi is mounting the soapbox again to preach about the dangers of processed foods--”

“Oh, fuck you, I’m leaving.” He, rather dramatically, snatches the coat off the back of his chair and storms out of the bakery. I can’t wipe the grin off my face when I remember that we literally work at the same office and will see each other again within the next ten minutes. What I find to be less amusing is the fact that he left me the entire bill, including his cinnamon-free cinnamon twists and extra-large black coffee. In lieu of my irritation, I take the situation as just a form of preparation: true love isn’t cheap.

“Here’s your bill.” A slip of paper slides across the table and then I’m blindsided by the sight of an immaculate Sadie smile. Now that’s priceless. I can’t describe it in words, but it’s just so… damn. By the time I’ve regained my senses, she’s gone off to help the next customer. I glance over the receipt, fishing through my wallet to produce the proper total and a hefty tip. My eyes widen when I catch something hastily scrawled at the bottom of the slip: a phone number. Next to a poorly-drawn smiley face, but that’s beside the point; the Sadie of Sadie’s Bakery just gave me her phone number. As I get up to leave, I even catch a glimpse of her smiling softly in my direction. I more than happily return the gesture. Malachi will come around eventually, but this train is definitely already in motion.

***

I have to hand it to Malachi because the first few weeks of my relationship with Sadie did actually feel like a teen drama. Our initial correspondence was nothing to write home about. I’d pick up a cruller every morning at the bakery and we’d chat for as long as it took for Malachi to spitefully gulp down his coffee and claim that we were running late for work. In between breaks at the office, I curated a myriad of internet bakery memes. Then, at night, I would bombard our text conversations with dancing donuts and cake icing videos and pretend to not absolutely lose my mind whenever she responded with a laughing face emoji. This continued for a while until I had to stage a self-intervention from giving myself diabetes. Sadie was surprisingly understanding and even offered to make me a sugar-free batch; had Malachi not physically taken my phone and responded with “no and goodbye,” I would have accepted.

In spite of his continued opposition, the train kept on moving. Sadie was actually the one who asked me out; I know, the misogynists are quaking in their boots. After she made the first move at the bakery, I wasn’t super surprised that she proposed the idea of dating one morning when I stopped by to pick up an office order. That being said, her delivery did not keep me from turning completely red and whooping at the top of my lungs in the otherwise moderately quiet cafe. I honestly still don’t know why Sadie got so embarrassed; she literally owns the place. All that being said, Sadie and I were officially a couple. Now, I just have to let Malachi in on it so he can be a supportive best friend and help guide me through my new--

“Jason, I love you, man, but this seems like a terrible idea.” Okay, ouch. This hadn’t been the first time he’d ever said these exact words to me, but for some reason, they hurt more this time around. “This is so sudden! I seriously worry that you’re getting ahead of yourself. What do you even know about this Sadie girl anyways?”

“Uh, well, for one, she runs the best bakery in town.”

“Debatable. Dinah’s Breakfast Cafe has killer pastries.”

“Unlike Dinah, Sadie’s smart and funny.”

“And you learned this from your 2 A.M. meme conversations?”

“Okay, either way, look me in the eyes and tell me she’s not beautiful.”

“Do you really want me to call your girlfriend hot?”

I throw a straw wrapper in his face and pout, genuinely upset. “That’s not the point and you know it.”

“Look, dude, I can understand that your initial feelings may be strong, but I just don’t wanna see you get hurt again. Physically or emotionally.” Malachi fixes me with a serious look and I suddenly feel like sinking back into my chair. “Especially after Gas Station Lady, I was hoping you’d make a little bit of a better assessment of things. I mean, like, do you even know how old she is? Friends? Family? Does she have any past relationships? Who’s to say that she isn’t hanging out with one of her ex-boyfriends right now?”

That last comment was a low blow and more than a little melodramatic, but I suddenly feel like I don’t know enough about Sadie to defend her. Now that I think about it, maybe everything is moving too fast.

“Just… be careful, man. Maybe reconsider. Again, the last thing I’d want is for you to get hurt.” Malachi shoots me one last sympathetic smile before walking out of the breakroom. Maybe there’s some truth to Old Man Malachi’s words. I stare at the cruller in my hand for a moment. When I finally move to take a bite, something inside leaves a sour taste in my mouth. The jelly filling doesn’t taste quite the same as before.

***

After that awful conversation, I decide it's best to have a heart-to-heart with Sadie. Our text conversations dry up for a couple of nights and I try to avoid the bakery as much as possible to give myself more time to think. However, as it turns out, the inevitable conversation didn’t end up being as painful as I thought it would be. Sadie actually laughs when I tell her that I don’t know anything about her; she says the same could be said about me. We spend the rest of the evening making donuts together and giving each other a basic autobiographical rundown.

Sadie Marissa Jenkins II is a first-generation British--it was at this point in our month-long relationship that I finally noticed the accent--immigrant who’d moved here in order to pursue her studies in culinary arts at the local university. She lives with her older sister, and her dog named Muffin, and she prefers riding her bike to taking the metro. She spoke of no past relationships and is in fact not currently cheating on me with another man. I was quite happy, and a little smug, when reporting my findings to Malachi.

“If you think she’s the one, then knock yourself out.” He’s speaking very nonchalantly for a man who’s wrestling with a stapler. “She actually gave me a free coffee this morning, so maybe she’s worth keeping around.”

“So free coffee is all it takes to get Old Man Malachi’s blessing?”

“Hardy-har-har.” He flicks a loose staple at my forehead. “This better work out, because I’m not picking your ass up again when you get dumped out of a pizza delivery car in the middle of town.”

“At least she didn’t run out of gas.” I jokingly shoot finger guns in his direction, snorting when he feigns a shot to the chest as he exits the breakroom. There are still a couple of crullers left over in the Sadie’s Bakery box on the counter so I help myself to one--and immediately gag. Okay, they actually do kinda taste like metal. They’re probably just stale from sitting out all afternoon. Yeah, that’s probably it.

***

I decide to lay off the crullers for a while and instead take the time to learn more about Sadie. What I learn instead is that both of us have pretty uninteresting lives, but I think it’s the thought that counts. Plus, her accent is precious and I can barely pay attention when we have midnight baking lessons at the bakery. These lessons are always followed by her getting into my car, me offering to drive her home, and us making out in the backseat instead. This goes on for several nights and I have never once complained about it. That is, until tonight, when she decides to take a chomp out of the side of my neck.

“What the--!” I instinctively push away from her and inspect the injury with my hand. My fingers come away smeared red.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” Her hands hover over me as I frantically press the sleeve of my jacket to my neck to stop the bleeding. “I got carried away. Did I hurt you?” I mean, judging by the fact that I’m literally bleeding, I think it would be fair to assume that she did, in fact, hurt me. Nonetheless, I manage a smile.

“It’s fine, Sades.” Probably. The bleeding has stopped, anyways. “Honestly. I mean, it’s not like you said some other guy’s name, or something weird like that.”

“What? What other guy? When was there ever another guy?” Sadie jolts away from me like I’m made of fire. “What do you know about another guy?”

“Uh, nothing! It was just a joke.” A bad joke. “An American joke.”

“Oh. I see.” She nervously picks at the leather of the car seat, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip.

“Really, the biting thing was fine.” Probably. I lean forward and place a small kiss on her ear. “In fact, dare I say that it was kinda hot.” I don’t know what response I was expecting, but I was not physically prepared for the look that she gave me when I pulled away. Then, we were back at it again. From that point in the night on, it was just so… damn. Maybe I was just hallucinating before; I think the crullers taste just fine.

***

“You look tired.” Malachi inquires with a wink as he takes another sip of his morning coffee. To be quite honest, I probably feel worse than I look; after the whole biting incident and my subsequent flirtatious response, Sadie kinda took things into her own hands. I think it’s fair to say that what happened in that car stays in that car. Probably.

“I was just busy last night.”

“Busy?” Malachi snorts into his cup. “With Sadie?”

“Oh, shut up,” I tiredly flip him the bird, “don’t say it like that. We’re literally adults. It’s not like teenagers kissing behind the bleachers, or something.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot when you got so mature. Just eat your damn cruller.” He shoves the half-dozen towards me and I nibble at one for a bit before taking a bite… which still tastes awful. Did she change the recipe for the filling? I need to talk to her about that. “Then again, maybe you’re right. I don’t remember them wearing scarves in August in teen dramas.”

I literally choke on the bite of cruller in my mouth. Okay, so maybe the biting incident wasn’t fine. You live and you learn.

***

“Uh, hey there, Sades.” I make my way into the sparsely lit kitchen of the bakery. “Whatcha’ up to?” My real question is, why does the kitchen look like a literal crime scene? There’s donut filling smeared all over the counters; there’s even some on the wall.

“Oh! Uh, nothing, just washing my hands. Cleaning up.”

“Did you cook something?” I look around the kitchen a bit. No pots or pans. Not even a baked good. “I don’t see anything.”

“N-No, not really. I was just preparing something for a batch I was going to bake tomorrow.” For a baker, that’s a totally normal thing to do. Probably.

“Alrighty, then. Should we head out now?”

Sadie smiles, but her face still seems tight. “Lovely.”

***

“Something’s off about Sadie, man. I’ve been getting these weird vibes lately.”

“Oh, so now you see it.” Malachi rolls his eyes, taking a bite into a fresh-baked, sugar-free twist. “Did you two have a fight? Does she not like it when you burp halfway through your sentences?”

“What? No, to both.” Well, actually, that’s a hard maybe on the latter. “Nothing specifically happened, per se, but, like, the vibes were off. She was acting really strange last night.”

“What’d she do, exactly?”

“Well, she…” Washed her hands? What exactly am I supposed to say in this situation? “...actually, never mind.”

“Good. Because, if you were about to say some kinky shit, I literally would’ve punched you in the face.” He chortles as I push hard against his arm. “Look, man, relationships are weird. Whatever’s on your mind, just work it out with her. Better now than later. Regret hurts like a bitch, dude.”

I stare down at the cruller in front of me and swallow thickly. “I think you’re right, man. I should just talk things out with her.”

***

Oh, god, I was wrong. I was so wrong. Screw talking things out. Malachi was right. Regret does hurt like a bitch. I should’ve listened to him, the first time. I wish I could go back and listen to him. I should’ve known something was wrong from the random nighttime hand washing. Or from the biting incident. Or from when any human woman found me to be conventionally attractive. Maybe that’s it. Maybe she’s just not human. She probably isn’t, given that she’s pulling this shit. She’s literally crazy, and I fell for it.

You wanna know what was in those crullers? The jelly filling: it wasn’t cherry or strawberry or whatever other random red fruit we thought it was. It’s straight-up human remains. ...Plus a shit ton of sugar and preservatives, but that’s beside the point. That’s why Malachi thought they tasted like metal. There’s iron and calcium in blood and bones; she was just feeding us metal. People. And I ate them! Almost every day! For two months! Oh my god, what’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with me?

Malachi, or Mom, or Gas Station Lady, if you’re reading this, just know that I love you all. Actually, this is an inner monologue; you’ll never see this. Poetic cruller bullshit aside, this is absolutely crazy. Oh god, she’s back. Oh god, she has a meat grinder. Why would she have a meat grinder? This is the worst day of my life. Oh god, this is the last day of my life. I’m about to die. She’s about to grind me into bits and make me into donut filling. Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god. I should’ve known better, I should’ve--

Fuck, Malachi, please, don’t eat the crullers. Don’t eat the--

***

“I knew there was something up with you!”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh god, he even told me that you were acting strange recently--”

“Malachi, please, calm down. What’s the matter?”

“Cut the bullshit, Donut Girl. What did you do to Jason?”

A pause. Then, she smiles. “Welcome to Sadie’s Bakery, the best baked goods in town. Could I interest you in a cruller?”

[abbacchiosbelt]

All these DILF posts are really hot and so we'll written sjadjs but now I'm not able to get the idea of a fem!reader secretly dating Lisa Lisa whilst being best friends with Joseph and Caesar out of my head 😩😩

yessss i was honestly thinking about this the other day and then this ask popped up! perfect! i did stray away from the secret dating part… but i hope this is still enjoyable! ♥

a bit of an au, in which the hamon training arc lasts much longer and without such dire circumstances — caesar and joseph have stuck to your side since they met you at the local market when you helped them end a fight. since then, they’ve been stuck to you like glue whenever they’re not training with who they refer to as their “fitness instructor.” well. whatever she’s doing has both of them looking amazing, but you’d always been drawn to other women… 

18+ under the cut. age difference cw. both parties are consenting adults!

The second you laid eyes upon Lisa Lisa, you’d thought that Caesar and Jojo had been lying about their “fitness instructor” being 50. Lisa Lisa was drop-dead gorgeous with a body to die for — it was as if she came straight out of a fashion magazine, but better. Not only that, she was whipsmart, according to your best friends, and incredibly tough. Lo and behold, she was 50. It was explained away by Jojo that she simply took care of herself… Well, whatever it was, you certainly weren’t complaining.

Needless to say, you were head over heels. It was unlikely that Lisa Lisa would ever look at you, you thought. You were a young woman, not some handsome gentleman that you assume she’d be interested in. Jojo, as brash as he is, notices immediately how red your face gets and the way you shy away from Lisa Lisa’s stern gaze. 

He prods and pokes until he gets it out of you that, yes, perhaps you do fancy women! Is it such a problem? Jojo, to your relief, has no qualms about who you may be attracted to — he just wants to know the dirty details. Caesar, though he shamefully admits it, is also invested into your little crush. They may pout a bit that they’re not the ones you’re falling for, but they’re going to help you. Or try to, anyway.

That’s how you find yourself nervously stood beside Joseph and Caesar at Lisa Lisa’s house for dinner. It was a private affair, with a few others that worked to train the boys and a cute blonde girl that you came to know as Suzi Q. And somehow Joseph managed to seat you right next to Lisa Lisa, who gave you a little red-lipped smile that had your heart fluttering. 

And then without even noticing, the table is down to Lisa Lisa and you as you both sip slowly at your glasses of wine — she’s giggling freely and it’s so adorable on someone as beautiful and strong as her that you can barely stand it. God, you want to kiss her. Lisa Lisa is more observant than you could ever hope to understand and the next thing you know, her lips are ghosting across yours, parting to ask if she can kiss you.

Yes, yes, a million times yes — her lips press against yours gently but it’s not long before you’re kissing each other hungrily, her red lipstick smearing across your own bare lips. When Lisa Lisa lifts her head you want to whine, but you just watch as she easily smiles and promises you that next time, you’ll have all night for yourselves. Not a moment later Joseph bursts through the dining room walkway and asks if there are leftovers. You’re bright red and very obviously smudged with Lisa Lisa’s lipstick. Joseph just shouts out an enthusiastic ‘yes’ before scrambling off. 

Lisa Lisa has you over the very next night to continue where the two of you left off — and fuck was it worth the wait. Lisa Lisa’s mouth on your burning skin feels like heaven, and the way that she licks and kisses at your neck is just right. You’ve never been with a woman but it’s like Lisa Lisa knows all the right places to lick and touch — and then her mouth finds its way to your breasts and you can’t control the very loud moan that falls from your lips when she takes one of your nipples into her mouth. 

You try to protest all her attention on you — you want to make her feel good, too. She only winks, though, and slides down to your dripping sex before she has you shaking so hard she has to hold you down by your thighs. That’s four orgasms, by the time she lifts her head, still dressed.

Lisa Lisa asks if you feel good if you’re enjoying this before she primly smiles and mentions she knows this is your first time with a woman. She’ll take it as slow as you need, but she has many things she can show you. Lisa Lisa is so beautiful that you can barely think, but you nod eagerly and she grins (oh my, it looked exactly like Jojo’s smile…) before she slowly eases a finger into your sensitive sex.

You don’t know what the hell she’s doing but it feels incredible — one finger quickly turns to two and it feels like there’s a pleasant vibration. You don’t know how it’s possible but it’s hard to think with how good it feels. 

There are too many orgasms to count, by the time Lisa Lisa is finished, and you’re barely coherent in the best of ways. You weakly whine when she sends you home for the night, having not got to touch her at all, but she clicks her tongue and tells you that there will be time for that next time.

And that’s how you end up as another ‘student’ of Lisa Lisa’s. Your training, you’re sure, is far more pleasurable than anything else Caesar and Joseph have to do. Lisa Lisa teaches you with a stern gentleness that sets your core aflame and has your thighs clenching together whilst you listen to her instructions. 

Your rewards, when you please her just as she taught you, always leave you crying out her name and shaky for hours afterward. It’s not just the sex, either. Lisa Lisa is wonderful to talk to and spend time with — you feel a bit silly, compared to her, but her teases are only gentle and not meant to hurt if you ever say something off-the-cuff.

There’s a little thrill in knowing that no one knows about your relationship. Joseph has been told that it was just a silly tipsy kiss. You and Lisa Lisa sneak away for hidden moments — your face under her skirt as you lick at her, her fingers wet with your slick as she fingerfucks you in a hidden corner. 

Lisa Lisa prefers to rub herself against you to take the two of you to orgasm, but when there’s time, she fucks you. You’d never known a woman could do this or that ‘toys’ existed… But apparently, Lisa Lisa did. You too prefer the feel of her sex against your own, but there’s something great about being fucked on all fours by her while she pulls your hair and tells you what a good girl you’re being.

It’s by accident that Caesar overhears the two of you one day… Well, you. Lisa Lisa had surprised you by wearing the strap-on and had taken you against the wall, fucking into you with a strength that made your mind so hazy you didn’t even think to conceal your moans. Caesar, in his concern, had burst through the door without thinking to find you completely nude and being fucked into by a mostly dressed Lisa Lisa.

Well. A secret with Caesar doesn’t stay a secret long, and by the end of the night, Joseph is pestering you for details about your relationship with their instructor. It’s just your luck that Lisa Lisa catches them nagging you and assigns them some training that has Joseph about to burst out in tears. Before she leaves to make sure they follow through properly, she throws a wink in your direction. 

[onlycags]

Seven Minutes in Heaven | Çağlar Söyüncü

Word Count: 2,816 Rating: T Description: You bring some friends over to a party at Madders’s and end up playing the classic middle-school game Seven Minutes in Heaven. (Chaos ensues, as always)

Enjoy! xx [Turkish translation in bold-italics]

- - - 

If someone had told you three years ago that you would be sitting around with a bunch of hot footballers playing Seven Minutes In Heaven, you would have laughed in their face and told them to fuck off.

The universe had decided to play a cruel joke on you at this moment in time, as you were doing that exact thing. Madders was seated to your left - his knee bouncing up and down like crazy - and Chilly to your right, munching on some sour worms. It was the first night of a two-week break, the longest LCFC would get this season, and the boys were determined to make the most of it, which was how you all came to play Seven Minutes in Heaven.

You couldn’t quite remember who started it first, but after a few shots, everyone seemed to be in agreement that Seven Minutes In Heaven was the game to play tonight.

You had brought a bunch of your girlfriends around - apparently, Madders wasn’t too keen on inviting strange females and since you were also a woman and knew other women, the ones that you had invited seemed to do the trick. You girlfriends were enjoying a quiet night in, as James had insisted that everyone was welcome to crash at the flat, and you were having a great time mixing the best of your two worlds.

You raised your beer bottle to your lips, pausing as you made eye contact with Çağlar Söyüncü from across the room. The Turkish centreback, always so composed and stoic, seemed to be enjoying himself tonight, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to ask. You quirked an eyebrow in his direction and he nodded back at you. Your stomach fluttered, and you tried in vain to quell the desires that always seemed to flare up whenever he was around.

Your Year-One University roommate Jess grabbed your arm, bringing your attention from Çağlar to her. “Which one do you think is cute again?” She asked, her eyes landing on Madders.

“Not Mads, if that’s what you’re worried about,” You responded, throwing a smile at your best mate since primary school.

You glanced around the room, taking it all in. Your cousin Molly was laughing at something Perez had said and you could have sworn that you overheard her replying in Spanish. Your former coworker-turned-friend Maggie was argue-flirting with Harvey Barnes in a corner, presumably about something related to feminism or archeology - you could never quite tell which because she was so passionate about both. Finally, your friend Grace was making funny faces with Ben and the two of them seemed to be having a weird time together. At some point, two hats had been passed around the room - one for the boys and one for the girls - and everyone wrote their names on a slip of paper and put it in the hat. Someone turned down the music and all of a sudden, names were being drawn from the hats, and cell phones were being given up as the two ‘players’ went into Madders’s second bedroom.

The first couple to go in was Molly and Pérez. Everyone else listened with their ear to the door like kindergarteners, while you rolled your eyes and went into the kitchen to mix yourself a drink. As you were pouring the tequila, a hand reached around you for the triple sec, making you gasp.

“Çağlar! You scared me!” You laughed as you turned around, trying to shake off your nerves.

The Turk shrugged. “Sorry.” His English was getting better by the day, the only problem being that hearing him speak English turned you on so badly you could barely form words around him. You took a sip of your margarita on the rocks, taking the opportunity to drink him in.

He looked delicious in his dark-wash jeans and white v-neck t-shirt. You gripped your glass, trying desperately not to give away how badly you wanted to run your fingers through his hair.

His eyes met yours and you looked away, embarrassment turning your cheeks a shade of pink you were hopeful wasn’t visible in the dimly-lit kitchen.

Little did you know that the Turk was doing the same thing to you. He had briefly taken part in the nonsense that ensued when Molly and Pérez went into the bedroom together, but then he had noticed you getting up to leave the room and he followed.

His gaze had roamed over your body, taking in your leggings and oversized flannel. He had briefly wondered if the oversized flannel belonged to Madders, but he didn’t dwell on it for fear that he would get overly-possessive and turn you off.

What you didn’t know, was that the Turk had been lusting after you since he had met you at Madders’s holiday party a few months back, but hadn’t yet taken the opportunity to approach you and ask you out. He had spent the last few months learning English specifically to ask you out, but so far hadn’t had any luck. The guys teased him about it on a daily basis - except for Madders, who would help him work on his English phrases after practice. Madders had been secretly teaching Çağlar all your likes and dislikes while also dropping hints about Çağlar to you that hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“How has practice been?” You asked, not wanting to go back to everyone just yet - by your calculations, there was probably about four minutes left on the timer and you wanted to spend them with Çağlar.

“Good. Getting better every day and I am having fun.” He let out a nervous laugh, running his hands through his hair as he looked at the ground. “Sorry, English is still not my best.”

Instinctively, you reached out and placed a hand on his arm, smiling when his eyes met yours. “You’re doing great, Çağlar,” you said, trying hard not to sound like you were patronizing him. “Seriously.”

His eyes lit up at your compliment and your stomach flipped. He glanced down at your hand still on his arm, and you immediately pulled back, a fresh flood of nerves washing over you. A look you couldn’t quite place flashed across his face; just as you were about to say something, a cheer erupted from the living room and a countdown started.

“TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX!” without thinking, you grabbed Çağlar’s hand and dragged him back into the living room with you, joining in with everyone as though the two of you hadn’t escaped to the kitchen for the last six minutes and fifty seconds.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You joined in, turning to Çağlar and winking cheekily. You could have sworn that you saw him blush but you didn’t want to flatter yourself for fear of rejection.

The door burst open and you couldn’t help but cheer along with everyone, making a mental note to ask Molly for details on exactly what had happened. Judging by her and Pérez’s appearances, there may be more than seven minutes in their future. Madders picked up the hats again, picking out a piece of paper from each and reading the names out.

“We have,” he paused for dramatic effect, “Maggie and Harvey!”

The look Maggie shot Harvey would probably have killed a lesser man, but they went into the bedroom together as Mads reset the timer. Ben walked over, bowl of sour worms in hand, holding them out to you. You grabbed a couple and popped them in your mouth, washing them down with your margarita.

“How did we get on this again?” You asked again, trying to keep the giggles out of your voice but failing.

Luckily, Ben shared the sentiment. He chucked, shaking his head. “I have no idea, but I must confess that I fancy your friend Grace.”

“She is pretty,” you agreed. “And a very good kisser.” You laughed at his surprised look.

“Noted.” He laughed and threw a glance in Grace’s direction and she smiled at him in return. You couldn’t deny that you really hoped they ended up being picked for Seven Minutes.

Maggie and Harvey parted ways almost immediately, a furious expression on Maggie’s face. Your  friend headed for the kitchen and you followed, not hearing who was called to go in next.

“What’s wrong?” You asked Maggie, watching as your friend angrily unscrewed the top of a bottle of wine and poured herself a hefty glass. She downed about half before slamming it down on the countertop.

“That fucking git!” She swore, breathing heavily.

“What the-? Do I need to go kick his arse?”

“What?!” Maggie turned around, her cheeks pink. “No. He surprised me, is all. We argued about everything all night, and then we got into the bedroom and all he does is tell me how beautiful I am and how much he likes my fire and intelligence. I mean, who the hell does that? What gives him the right to be so goddamn charming?!” She growled and turned back to her wine glass to drain it. “I can’t believe I actually agreed to go to a match and have drinks with him after,” she muttered, more to herself, but you caught it as well.

“Well, it looks like you’re going to need an entire bottle of wine for yourself,” you chuckled as Mags poured herself another hearty glass.

Despite her mumblings, you knew Harvey was just what Maggie needed, maybe not necessarily as a long-term thing, but definitely as a fling.

You walked out of the kitchen, smiling to yourself as you left Maggie to her feelings and the rest of the bottle of wine. It sounded like someone had turned up the music whilst you were gone, but you weren’t sure. Once again, you found yourself next to Çağlar. You purposely swayed into him slightly, smiling up at him when he looked down to see who it was. “Who’s in now?” You asked, trying not to freak out when he put his arm around you and pulled you close.

He leaned down, his lips lightly brushing your ear as he responded. “Ben and your friend Grace.” You shivered at the contact, and you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch.

“Good for them! Ben was just telling me that he fancied her a few minutes ago.” You spotted movement out of the corner of your eye and looked to find Madders staring at you and Çağlar, who still had his arm around you.

A couple minutes later, Ben and Grace emerged, both looking disheveled and not-at-all ashamed. You couldn’t wait to grill Grace about it at the next girls’ night the following weekend, and you knew you would be sending Ben multiple texts about it this week. Madders drew two more names and you held your breath - the only remaining players being him, you, Jess, and Çağlar. He paused at the two slips of paper in his hand before looking up at Jess and grinning. “Looks like it’s you and me, Love.”

Madders threw a wink in your direction and you rolled your eyes, thinking nothing of it.

As you took another sip of your margarita, the gravity of what had just happened hit you, and you looked up at Çağlar who had seemed to freeze, too. He glanced down at you before quickly shifting his gaze to the floor, his arm coming off your shoulders to hang stiffly at his side. Your stomach dropped and tears pricked behind your eyes. You tried to shrug it off - sure, you had thought there was something there, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened to you and it sure wouldn’t be the last. Yeah, the seven minutes you spent in the bedroom would be awkward as hell, but you mentally promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry in front of him.

Next to you, Çağlar’s mind was racing, too. He had no idea what he was going to do. He hadn’t expected this - sure, he had been hoping that he would get you for the game, but now the reality of the situation was hitting him and he knew he had to act. Madders had assured him time and time again that you were into him, but a part of him still couldn’t believe it. You were a little more than a year older than him and he still couldn’t fathom that someone like you could be interested in someone like him.

All too soon, Madders and Jess came out, not-so-subtly holding hands. “Alright! Cags and [Y/N], you’re up!”

You turned to the man next to you, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering about wildly.

The door closed, and you fiddled with your hands. Çağlar had taken a seat  on the floor, his back against the bed. “Nervous?” He asked, his accent thicker than normal.

You nodded, unsure if you could form words without tearing up. You knew the rejection was coming, but it still stung.

“Sit with me?” Çağlar asked, patting the floor next to him.

“Sure,” you croaked out, making your way over to him. You sat down, involuntarily laughing at how awkward this was.

“What?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Nothing.” You responded, running a hand through your hair. “Just thinking about how awkward this is.”

“Sorry,” he said, his face falling.

“It’s not your fault - I think we need to lay blame on whoever decided this was a good idea.”

“Why?”

You turned to face him. “Because now it’s you and me in this bedroom and it’s so weird and I hate this.”

His jaw clenched and he looked away, abruptly standing up and turning away from you. “I don’t know how to do this, [Y/N],” he whispered, the hurt in his voice making you want to throw up.

You picked at some invisible dust on the carpeting, focusing all of your energy on not crying. “Just say what you need to say, Çağlar, I’m not made of glass,” you said, even though you felt like you could shatter at any moment.

He turned around and you looked up at him, awestruck by the man in front of you. He held out his hand, but you shook your head, opting instead to pick yourself up off the floor. The tortured expression on his face had your stomach in knots. When he finally spoke, he spoke in Turkish, words you couldn’t understand flowing out of his beautiful mouth. “Güzel olduğunu düşünüyorum. Gece gündüz seni düşünmeyi bırakamam. İstediğim her şeysin. Seninle tanıştığımdan beri seni öpmek istedim ve şimdi yapabileceğime göre ne yapacağımı bilmiyorum. Muhtemelen beni istediğim gibi istemediğini biliyorum ama bana bir şans verirsen sana dünyayı verebilirim.” I think you are beautiful. I cannot stop thinking about you day and night. You are all I want. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you and now that I can, I do not know what to do. I know you probably don’t want me like I want you but if you give me a chance I can give you the world.

He took a step toward you, but you stepped back. “If you’re going to reject me, can you please do it in English?” Your voice broke towards the end and you hated how weak you sounded. “Madders has been dropping hints about you to me for the last few weeks and I now know that he was subtly telling me that you weren’t interested and-”

“No!” He shouted, the word sounding as though it was being ripped from his chest. He closed his eyes and breathed out, running a hand through his hair. “James has been helping me with my English for some times because I have been trying to tell you I like you.” He laughed derisively at himself and muttered what you could only assume was a curse in Turkish. “I speak better Turkish and it is extra hard to find the words I want when you are here.” He took a tentative step towards you and this time you did the same, covering the distance so the two of you were only inches apart. His hand came up to cup your cheek, and your breath hitched. “In Turkish I was telling you-”

It was your turn to cut him off. “Can you tell me again in Turkish? I love hearing you speak your native language,” you admitted, blushing.

He smiled and repeated it, ending with a question in English. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes,” you replied, standing on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.

Just as the two of you broke apart, the door opened to cheers from all your friends.

The rest of the evening flowed without drama, everyone essentially paired up. Card games and more drinking ensued, but at the end of the night, you ended up asleep on the couch, Çağlar’s strong arms wrapped around you.

[itsclydebitches]

Battle -  Pepper has some opinions regarding Madame Tracy's new look.

“Here we are. Isn’t this lovely?”

Pepper, as a rule, hated when grownups lied. There was nothing ‘lovely’ about the apartment complex she was currently getting dragged into. Everything was painted in shades of beige and it smelled exactly like her Nan’s place: mothballs and hand cream. On second thought though, it made a certain amount of horrible sense. She’d seen the decor of Aziraphale’s bookshop, so it was entirely possible that he did think this place was some kind of lovely.

She would have rather he lied.

“Do I really have to stay here?” Pepper asked, but she already knew the whine was going to fall on deaf ears. They’d all been playing hot potato with her since this morning. First Dad said he couldn’t drive her into the city for her dance lesson because he’d been called into an unexpected meeting. Then Mom said she couldn’t either because Mrs. Miller down the road was ill and you know she has no one else to help her. Each left the house that morning not realizing that the other wasn’t picking up the slack. So she’d ridden to the Young’s house, only to be told that Mr. Young was already at work and Mrs. Young would love to take her, really, but she’d just put a stew in that needed watching up until dinner. Why in the world do you need to go out during winter break? Pepper was about to head down to Brian’s when Adam suggested calling Crowley instead, their discussion producing the same passively bemused expression on Mrs. young’s face that appeared whenever something Armageddon related got mentioned. She’d handed Adam the phone without fuss.

Except instead of a demon in a Bentley she got an angel on a bus, one that definitely didn’t have a route out this far. Pepper was left scrounging up change for a very confused driver while Azirphale miracled her into a warmer coat and Adam snickered at the door. To quote the bastard who’d abandoned her, could she get a wahoo?

Now Pepper was getting fostered off on this lady.

“Terribly sorry about this,” Aziraphale was saying, puttering into Madame Tracy’s apartment and pulling her along for the ride. “Crowley went and got himself discorporated, can you imagine? Really, he never takes care of the bodies he’s given. Normally I wouldn’t pay him any mind, let the fool stew for a couple of decades, that's what I say. But given everything that’s happened I hate the thought of him down there for any considerable length of time.” Aziraphale looped the chain of his pocket-watch round and round his finger. For the first time that day Pepper decided to keep her mouth shut. “I intend to put a bit of pressure on Below with the hope that they’ll assign him a new body sooner rather than later. Perhaps even perform a summoning if necessary. If us angels are capable of a discorporated existence on this plane then it should be old hat for a demon of Crowley’s age. Oh, but of course you already know all that—”

Madame Tracy took Aziraphale’s twitching hand, giving it a pat. “He’ll be just fine. As will Pepper.” For the first time today an adult actually looked at her. “We’ll have great fun until your Dad picks you up, won’t we?”

“Eh,” said Pepper.

“You go off and give Crowley a hand. Tell him he’s more than welcome to share my body if he needs a place to stay.”

That brightened Aziraphale considerably. He gushed a couple more thanks, saying that yes, they just might take her up on that offer, before bending to sweep a hand through Pepper’s hair. She squirmed—what, did he think she was five?—but by then Aziraphale was already out the door, muttering something about occult incantations and misplaced books.

Kind of amazing. That this was her life and all.

“Well,” Madame Tracy said, surveying Pepper with the same look a butcher might give a yet ungraded cut of meat. “This is a surprising way to spend one’s Thursday.”

“You’re telling me,” and Pepper chucked her dance bag into the corner.

“Ballet?”

“Tap.”

“Can I see a bit?”

“...No.”

“Fair enough.” Madame Tracy chuckled. “I’d show you some of my burlesque, but I don’t think you’re old enough for that yet.”

Pepper was left with her mouth hanging open as Madame Tracy wandered into the kitchen.

Actually, it wasn’t that surprising now that she thought about it. Pepper cast her mind back to that day at the airbase, picturing the woman who’d drawn her attention by arguing with herself before trying to shoot her best friend. That woman had fit in perfectly with the rest of the insanity around them, flaming swords and dying whales and Adam with glowing eyes. Pepper remembered thinking, in the disconnected way you notice things when everything else has gone to shit, that her wild hair was a much better red than that War lady’s. Her dress was objectively horrible, but it suited her, somehow. Pepper didn’t even know how she could say what suited a woman she’d barely met, but out of everything she could question that day, this wasn’t something Pepper was inclined to put much energy towards. The point was Madame Tracy had looked fun. Kooky, but fun.

“What happened to you?”

This Madame Tracy, the one whose hair had been washed of that fiery color, whose shirt matched the beige walls, no more makeup or big, sparkling jewelry, she paused in the act of making tea and hunched her shoulders, silent. Pepper wasn’t stupid. She’d heard all about Madame Tracy getting together with that guy she’d arrived with. The ‘finger guy’ as Brain called him and the horrible implications of that nickname were precisely why it had stuck. He’d been all critical and blustery. Calling Madame Tracey a ‘whore.’ Pepper might have said something if they hadn’t all been preoccupied with other things.

But hell, she could say them now. Pepper looked at the laundry pile on the kitchen table, a man’s shirts stacked on top. Looked next to Madame Tracy’s equally bland top. She put two and two together and came up with something like four.

She crossed her arms, all her weight settling into one hip. Pepper wished she had gum so she could pop it. “Right. You love this asshole?”

“Pepper.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it. Do you?”

Madame Tracy’s bright, artificial, I’m-suddenly-interacting-with-a-child-and-trying-too-hard smile melted into something soft. “Yes.”

“Well, can’t account for taste. But I’m gonna tell you a story. You listening? Because I charged Wensleydale five Wonder Woman comics and a chocolate bar for this same advice. Be grateful you’re getting it for free.” Almost free anyway. She might not have gum, but there was a selection of muffins on the counter. Pepper grabbed one on top before hopping up next to it. “Once upon a time my uncle told my mom she was too old to get another tattoo. She told him to flush his head in the toilet. The end.” Mmm, poppy-seed.

Madame Tracy, meanwhile, was wringing her hands. Huh. Kinda looked like Aziraphale. “No, no. It’s not as if Mr. Shadwell has ever said I couldn’t—wait. Why were you telling Wensleydale this?”

“He wanted his ears pierced. I did it for him. It’s super easy. I mean, as long as the guy you’re doing it on doesn’t squirm that much. Wensleydale kinda has two piercings on his left ear now.”

“Oh good lord.”

“Are you sure you and Aziraphale aren’t still sharing a body?”

“Now see here, young lady.” Madame Tracy marched up with what she probably thought was an intimidating air, but after an hour of Mrs. Rogenspern’s tap instruction no beast could have scared Pepper, let alone a friend. “You seem to be fond of making snap judgments, so let's set the record straight. Mr. Shadwell and I are very happy together and part of being happy means making accommodations for the person you love. It... unsettles him to have me be so,” she gestured at the whole of herself and Pepper dutifully imagined something other than that horrible wool skirt. “Flamboyant. A few sacrifices are a part of a healthy relationship. You’ll—”

“If you say ‘understand when you’re older’ I’m filling the toe of a shoe with peanut butter. And no, you won’t know which one until you’re wearing it.”

Madame Tracy blinked.

“Besides, if a healthy relationship is all about sacrifice how come Mr. Shadwell isn’t making any? If you can put up with his stupid, misogynistic comments then he can damn well put up with your wardrobe.”

“Language,” she said, but it was an automatic response. The kind of thing adults said when they didn’t know what else to say so wahoo. Progress.

Pepper jumped down from the counter. She came up and took Madame Tracy's hand, tugging. “Listen to me for just half an hour. That’s it. You can pretend you only did it to entertain me, if it makes you feel better. Tell him the same if you want.”

Insults aside, there was a comfort between them. Pepper guessed that’s what happened when you were two of three women in a six men set. Which meant that later, when Madame Tracy went rigid over the sink and started speaking in what some might term tongues, Pepper just went on eating her third muffin. When it was over—damn but possession took time—Madame Tracy looked back up into the mirror and yellow, slit eyes stared back. Crowley blinked.

“Kid? What are you doing here? We’re babysitting for a bit. Lovely to have you back among us! Eh, thanks? Wait, are we dying your hair purple?”

“Uh huh,” Pepper said, tossing the muffin wrapper at their chest. They caught it with a fumble. “Purple’s gonna look great with your eyes. Now help me talk her into a nose piercing before my dad gets here.”

Pepper wasn’t sure who was smiling at her then. Didn’t really matter.

"Nose piercing? Nah, they're out of style nowadays. Trust me, we want one in our brow."

Point was she’d won.

[hufflly-puffs]

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Chapter 20: Lord Voldemort’s Request

“‘Yeah, well, there was no need for Ginny and Dean to split up over it,’ said Harry, still trying to sound casual. ‘Or are they still together?’ ‘Yes, they are – but why are you so interested?’ asked Hermione, giving giving Harry a sharp look. ‘I just don’t want my Quidditch team messed up again!’ he said hastily, but Hermione continued to look suspicious, […].” – Please Harry, you should know Hermione well enough by now to know you can never hide anything from her. Girl knows what is up.

“‘Nice commentary last match!’ said Ron to Luna, as she took back the green onion, the toadstool and the cat litter. Luna smiled vaguely. ‘You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘Everyone says I was dreadful.’ ‘No, I’m serious!’ said Ron earnestly.”- Luna is so used that other people make fun of her that she doesn’t think Ron’s compliment is meant genuine. But it also says a lot about Ron, because he did make fun of her in the past quite often. Or as Luna said, “he can be a bit unkind”.

“‘No,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Divination is turning out to be much more trouble than I could have foreseen, never having studied the subject myself. I cannot ask Firenze to return to the Forest, where he is now an outcast, nor can I ask Sybill Trelawney to leave. Between ourselves, she has no idea of the danger she would be in outside the castle. She does not know – and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her – that she made the prophecy about you and Voldemort, you see.’” – Imagine you run a school and the reason you can’t fire a teacher is because otherwise they would be in mortal danger. And I think it is fair to say we can add Slughorn to this list as well. But at least both Firenze and Slughorn are aware of the danger, whereas Trelawney is blissfully oblivious, which puts her even more at risk.

“A hot, prickly feeling of shame spread from the top of Harry’s head all the way down his body. Dumbledore had not raised his voice, he did not even sound angry, but Harry would have preferred him to yell; this cold disappointment was worse than anything. ‘Sir,’ he said, a little desperately, ‘it isn’t that I wasn’t bothered or anything, I’ve just had other – other things …’ ‘Other things on your mind,’ Dumbledore finished the sentence for him. ‘I see.’” – Ironically my mother used the same tactic on me – she was never angry with me, but simply disappointed, because she had expected I would do better whenever I misbehaved. And I think Harry is used to anger; he spent years confronted with the anger of uncle Vernon and it is also how he reacts whenever something doesn’t go the way he wanted it to be. And anger can be very cathartic; after Sirius’s death Dumbledore gave Harry the chance to let out his anger because he knew it was what Harry needed at that moment. But he did not give him the satisfaction to be angry in return and he is not angry now, and Harry, who is so used to fight back, doesn’t know what to do. And of course Harry has had other things on his mind, as every teenager does, and Dumbledore is painfully aware of it. It is Dumbledore’s dilemma: he wants for Harry to be a normal teenager, to be concerned about Quidditch and schoolwork. And he wouldn't have asked if it wasn’t important, if there was any other way to get this memory.

“‘Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home.’ Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at these words, for this was exactly how he felt about Hogwarts, too.” – This isn’t just a parallel between Harry and Voldemort but between Harry and Snape as well. The three boys without a home, because they either were orphans or came from an abusive family, or in Harry’s case both. But while both Voldemort and Snape wanted to stay there as teachers Harry was ready to leave his first real home behind because he had found a home and a family outside Hogwarts. (Though one has to wonder why Snape wanted to become a teacher; clearly not because he loves children that much)

“‘And thirdly, as a teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on best terms, who had demonstrated how influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a useful recruiting ground, and a place where he might begin to build himself an army.’” – Slughorn is presented as a character who might not be the most sympathetic because of his favouritism but who appears to be harmless. Dumbledore himself said that while Slughorn seeks the attention of the powerful he does not want power for himself. However he could use his power and influence in a much sinister way, and the young Tom Riddle surely had realized that. He had worked his charm already on most of the adults in his life (with the exception of Dumbledore) and it would have been much easier to influence children, to gain new followers, or as Dumbledore said to build an army. Teachers are in a position of power, especially at Hogwarts, where children are far away from their parents, and Tom Riddle would have abused this power.

“‘But he didn’t get the job, sir?’ ‘No, he did not. Professor Dippet told him that he was too young at eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a few years, if he still wished to teach.’” – We already know you don’t need any sort of extra education to become a teacher; Hagrid is a teacher and never even finished school. And obviously Tom Riddle was perhaps the most talented student Hogwarts ever had (next to Dumbledore), so clearly Dippet saw no need for him to study or anything (are their universities in the Wizarding World?). The only reason he did not get the job was his age, so perhaps Dippet thought Riddle was not mature enough yet.

“‘Which job did he want, sir? What subject did he want to teach?’ Somehow, Harry knew the answer even before Dumbledore gave it. ‘Defence Against the Dark Arts.” – Another Harry-Snape-Voldemort-parallel. Both Voldemort and Snape wanted to get the job of the DADA teacher, and that is the subject Harry taught in his fifth year in the DA. Both Voldemort and Snape are fascinated by the Dark Arts, they are drawn to it, and according to Hermione Harry is as well, at least a little bit (Snape’s speech at the beginning of the school year reminded her of what Harry had told the DA). Harry’s fascination however is based on the fact that he has to understand the Dark Arts in order to survive and has no wish to use them on others.

“‘How do I look?’ said Hepzibah, turning her head to admire the various angles of her face in the mirror. ‘Lovely, madam,’ squeaked Hokey.” – This is not the first time Riddle visits Hepzibah Smith, and it is obvious that she is very smitten by him and tries to look nice for him. Obvious Riddle has used his charm on her as well, but he had also used his good looks to his advantage. From what we know about Voldemort he is not interested in personal relationships and I can’t imagine him to be interested in sex as well (yes, ignoring ‘Cursed Child’ here). As Dumbledore already told Harry Riddle/Voldemort never had any friends, I don’t see him having any kind of romantic or sexual relationship either. And yet he is very aware of the effect he has on women (and perhaps some men as well); he does not care about his looks (otherwise he would not have transformed himself) but he sure uses his attractiveness to his advantage.

“His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah’s face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort’s handsome features.” – It is interesting that Hepzibah is described here as a predator, when she in fact will become the victim.

“‘That’s right!’ said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. ‘I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn’t let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value –’ There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort’s eyes flashed scarlet at her words and Harry saw his knuckles whiten on the locket’s chain.” – Is Riddle angry because Burke had betrayed his mother? Because he thinks the locket is rightfully his? We know that Riddle hated his father, because he was a Muggle, because he had left his mother, but what does he think about his mother? Did he changed her mind about her after he learned that she was a witch, an ancestor of Slytherin on top of it? Or did he look down on her, because she ran away with a Muggle, because she chose the human weakness of death even though she could have saved herself? I can’t imagine that he felt any kind of sympathy towards his mother for those very reasons, and that his anger here is clearly based on thinking the locket belongs to him.

“‘Yes, that is my conclusion, too,’ said Dumbledore. ‘And, just as with Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey –’ ‘– because she was a house-elf,’ said Harry. He had rarely felt more in sympathy with the society Hermione had set up, S.P.E.W.” – If the ministry really suspected Hokey it shows how little they understand about house elves. Most of them are devoted to their masters and even the ones like Dobby who dislike their owners are programmed to obey and do as they are told. It is against the very nature of every house elf to hurt their master in any way. Despite being free Dobby still struggles to speak bad about the Malfoys and still wants to punish himself, so even if Hokey had a motive (and she seemed to like her mistress) she simply could not have killed Hepzibah.

“The one difference between the present-day office and this one was that it was snowing in the past; bluish flecks were drifting past the window in the dark and building up on the outside ledge.” – Clearly it is winter, so why would Voldemort try to get a job as a teacher in the middle of the school year?

“Harry let out a hastily stifled gasp. Voldemort had entered the room. His features were not those Harry had seen emerge from the great stone cauldron almost two years before; they were not as snakelike, the eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, and yet he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle. It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that Harry knew they would become. He was wearing a long black cloak and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders.” – I guess this is what happens when you repeatedly rip your soul apart. The less you become human the less you look human as well.

“‘They do not call me “Tom” any more,’ he said. ‘These days, I am known as –’ ‘I know what you are known as,’ said Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly. ‘But to me, I’m afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers, I am afraid, that they never quite forget their charges’ youthful beginnings.’” – It is such a small thing but Dumbledore’s refusal to acknowledge the name Riddle has given himself means so much. It means he does not accept and furthermore does not fear the monster Riddle has created of himself. And he reminds Riddle that he does know him longer than most, and that he has always looked right through his façade. By calling him ‘Tom’ he reminds Riddle that he is still human after all, no matter how desperate Riddle tries to become something less human. Later of course people would become so afraid of the monster they became afraid of the name itself. Dumbledore refused to call Tom Riddle ‘Voldemort’ and later refused not to use the name ‘Voldemort’ when everybody else did. He does not give Riddle/Voldemort any kind of power over him. And then of course in book 7 Voldemort will use his name as a weapon, as he will trace down everyone brave enough to say his name.

Also, imagine little first-years calling their DADA teacher Professor Voldemort.

“‘Three times at the last count, actually,’ said Dumbledore. ‘But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think.’ Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine.” – Of course in book 7 Voldemort does infiltrate the Ministry of Magic, but he never becomes Minister of Magic, but rather uses a marionette to do his bidding. He could have gained power in a legal way, could have built up a terror regime as a Minister, but he was never interested in politics.

“‘The old argument,’ he said softly. ‘But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore.’ ‘Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places,’ suggested Dumbledore.” – First of all Dumbledore and Riddle seemed to have a similar conversation before. Second Dumbledore here tells Riddle exactly what will be his downfall. First defeated by the sacrifice of a loving mother, later (and finally) by the boy who cared too much, who was protected and did protect others with a magic Voldemort never understood: love.

“‘And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves – or so rumour has it – the Death Eaters?’ Harry could tell that Voldemort had not expected Dumbledore to know this name; he saw Voldemort’s eyes flash red again and the slitlike nostrils flare. “ – Dumbledore himself admits how little there is to know what Voldemort did between the years when he left school and the ten years later when he appeared at Hogwarts again. So how come Dumbledore knew about the Death Eaters? Had he already been suspicious of Riddle when he left school and tried to gather as much information about him as he could? Voldemort still tries to keep up the façade of a young charming man; nobody is supposed to know yet he is the leader of a secret cult. But Dumbledore is already three steps ahead. He must have known or suspected that Riddle would become someone dangerous.

“‘No, nothing,’ said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. ‘The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom … I wish I could …’” – Dumbledore was Riddle’s teacher, so in a way perhaps he saw him as his responsibility, and saw what had become of his student as his own failure.

“‘Oh, he definitely wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job,’ said Dumbledore. ‘The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort.’” – So, the job is cursed, we know of one teacher who died (Quirell) and others who got seriously hurt (Lockhart, Moody, Umbridge). It seems Lupin did get away the best. But with that knowledge it does seem a bit irresponsible to offer anyone the job. I wonder if Snape knows the job is cursed or had his suspicions. And maybe that was another reason Dumbledore refused so long to give him the job: he had tried to protect Snape.