#apparel management course

[jdinstitute]

HOW TO MANAGE INVENTORY EFFECTIVELY IN RETAIL STORES

Poor Inventory management is the key reason why most retail businesses fail. Poor inventory management can lead to understocking and overstocking, which can harm a business and its operations.

Read More:- https://jdinstitute.co/how-to-manage-inventory-effectively-in-retail-stores/

[therealcocoshady]

Hi, coco!

You could make a third part of Eminem x Young Actress Reader, where the reader accompanies him to a game in Detroit and the cameras can't stop focusing on them because Em has never been seen so smiling and affectionate with someone. For the rest you can add what you want. By the way, I love your work and I love that you write about Eminem since almost no one does.<3

Family Game

Eminem x Younger Actress Reader

Part 1 : Daddy’s Spaghetti

Part 2 : Red Carpet Appearance

AN : thank you for your request ! I hope you liked it. I added my own little twist to it 🥰

Ever since your remarked outing at the Oscars, everyone knew you and Marshall were dating, much to your delight. Sure, you would gladly do without the press coverage, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a tiny bit satisfying to have everyone know that Eminem, hip hop’s most eligible bachelor was spoken for, by yours truly, no less. After all, you were not the first (nor the last) public figure to thirst over him and it felt nice to have the “competition” know that they should back off. Especially when you were in a long distance relationship : him in Detroit, you in LA. Sure, you trusted each other and often traveled to make it work but, still, it’s easy to get jealous, especially when both parties are public figures. Marshall was well aware of your status as Hollywood’s rising star and, since he had been your crush for years, you knew for a fact that he has tons of ladies throwing themselves at him. 

In spite of the distance and a couple of jealousy episodes, the two of you managed to make your relationship work, however. Marshall frequently flew out to LA to record with Dr Dre and other artists and to visit you and, whenever you weren’t shooting a movie, you joined him in Michigan. Your relationship was now in the serious state of « we’re both hope at each other’s place ». Your living room table was full of CDs and notepads and his living room was made cozy with your favorite crystals (which he always made fun of), scented candles (which he secretly loved) and fuzzy blankets (which he stole whenever you weren’t around). The whole relationship, despite trials, felt cozy and domestic. And it was made even better by the fact that Marshall had finally managed to ease up. You tended to blame it on the good critical reception after the Oscars : as soon as the two of you had been spotted together, holding hands, Marshall happily gushing about you to the press, both your fans and his had showered you with love and showed nothing but support. Whenever you were positing, fans (most of the time, respectfully) asked about him and they seemed truly overjoyed by the relationship. From what you gathered in the social media comments, they were also dying for the two of you to be spotted together again. Marshall was pretty much an hermit and not the kind to go out and about when he knew he might be spotted but, on one occasion, he had to oblige the fans. 

His beloved Detroit Lions were playing your Los Angeles Rams at Detroit’s Ford Field Stadium and there was no way in hell you would miss the occasion to attend. Knowing how protective of your relationship he could be, you made plans to attend on your own, with a couple of friends who would fly in for the occasion, but Marshall surprised you by actually requesting your presence. 

Don’t you want to go with me ? He asked. 

You mean… on a date ? You clarified. 

I mean there would be other people around, like family, friends and shit but we could be together, he said with a smile. 

You mean you would agree to being spotted with me ?! You asked jokingly. You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in Lions apparel ! 

What I mean is that I’d be proud to hold your hand, even if you’re wearing that stupid Rams hoodie, he grinned. 

Ok, you giggled. As long as I’m not forced to cheer for your team ! 

You ended up attending the event in a private suite with a lot of other people. Of course, his children were in attendance, as well as a couple of D12 friends. You had met everyone previously. A couple of months into the relationship, Marshall had organized a dinner for you to officially meet his daughters and everything had gone smoothly. You absolutely loved them, and same went for the friends he had introduced to you on different occasions. At the game, you were also joined by a couple of your friends, that you not so secretly planned on setting up with some of his. In your mind, there was no doubt that Alicia and Porter were meant to be and the Game seemed like the perfect occasion. It was joyful and everyone was really happy to be here. You were donning your favorite Rams apparel, much to Marshall’s dismay, but that didn’t prevent him from casually holding your hand. 

For how much would you wear Lions apparel ? Your friend jokingly asked. 

Nobody in this room can afford it, you replied with a grin. 

Oh really ? Marshall asked with a smirk. 

How about if you guys get married ? Porter asked. Would you be willing to support the Lions ? 

That would require a HUGE rock, you giggled. But yeah, sure, if we ever get married, I’ll wear Lions gear for all games, except the ones against the Rams. 

Your friends erupted in « oooohs » and « aaaahs ». The rivalry between your two teams was enough to fuel a dozen of conversations but, other than that, everyone around you had to agree that you were kind of the perfect couple. Your best friends always pointed out that Marshall was good at keeping you grounded and reminding you of the things that mattered - besides all the LA glitz and glamour - and Marshall’s circle seemed happy that you encouraged him to go out of his comfort zone. 

He was usually stressed out whenever there were tons of cameras around. It was unsettling to you, at first, because it was part of the job, but as your relationship progressed and he came with you to some events, he seemed to ease up. Still, he wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed his company nonetheless and you didn’t need him to kiss you in public or even hold your hand to be happy to be with him. In settings like football games, though, he was himself - the man you knew and loved in everyday life. He could be seen clapping, shouting, cheering… a far cry from the stoic face he arbored on red carpets and magazine covers. And you absolutely loved to see him enjoy himself and have fun. You were enamored with his smile and happy demeanor and you didn’t care too much about the 60 000 other people, you only had eyes for him. Obviously, though, as a Detroit native and global superstar, he was one of the centres of attention when Lose Yourself started playing before the game and everyone started singing/rapping along to the lyrics. Everyone in your group watched Marshall, who was definitely in a good mood. So were you, to be honest, and you couldn’t help but rap along, this song being one of your favorites ever. As the song ended, you could see Marshall sitting right next to you, trying not to laugh. 

You’re adorable, he chuckled. 

What ? You asked with a giggle. It’s the ultimate stadium song ! And my boyfriend is the one who wrote it !!! 

I love you, he simply said before cupping your face and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. 

That was the last tender moment the two of you shared before the end of the game. When your two favorite teams played each other, there was no romantic involvement anymore. It was all betting, taunting and calling each other names. For the first two quarters, the Rams seemed to dominate, which you gladly shoved in your boyfriend’s face, but when the Lions ended up winning, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Despite it all, and in spite of you being a sore loser, Marshall behaved like the perfect boyfriend and pecked you on the cheek, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exited your suite. His team winning always put him in a celebratory mood and he was more affectionate than usual, not giving a damn what people would see or think. He even went so far as to kiss your lips. 

Of course, in the following hours, the Internet went absolutely crazy over the pictures of the two of you at the stadium. While some accounts were raving about your outfit (because you did put some effort into making that Sports apparel work !), most of them were gushing about Marshall’s display of affection and how in love the two of you looked. 

« Look at his smile 🥰 » commented one, or « Look how in love he looks when she’s rapping his song 😭❤️ » were a few of the comments you could see under the videos of the event. It was extremely cute and, in moments like these, you felt like the luckiest woman on earth. However, a swarm of other comments started to appear, focusing on… Marshall’s daughters. The three of them were sitting on the row just behind you and they could be seen laughing at your nonexistent rapping skills (all fair, really) and mocking their father’s display of affection. You didn’t take offense at all - you’d been there yourself and you knew how icky it could feel, seeing your parent being affectionate with someone in public, but the press and social media accounts seemed to turn it into a family feud. If the headlines were to be believed, neither Alaina, Stevie or Hailie approved of the relationship and thought you were too young for Marshall. They apparently despised you and saw you as the most evil and wicked stepmother who was more than likely after their Dad’s fortune. Of course, reality couldn’t be further from the truth. Whenever you were in Detroit, you spent a great deal of time with Marshall’s daughters and you considered as friends. So much so that you even made plans of your own, that did not include him. It wasn’t rare for the four of you to have dinner or go shopping. On occasion, they even visited you in California and you soon planned to go on a girls’ trip in Morocco. So, when Hailie showed you the headline on your phone, everyone burst out laughing. 

« Evil stepmother », Stevie chortled. That’s hilarious. 

Is that because of the face you made, Hailie ? When Y/N was rapping ? Alaina chimed in. 

I was making a face because they were corny ! She laughed. Look at Dad’s face on the video. He’s all cute and lovey dovey. Of course I wanted to puke ! 

Marshall rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to his kids making fun of how in love with you he was but, honestly, he didn’t care. For the first time in forever, he was happy and thriving in a relationship. A healthy one, at that. Whenever you were around, he could barely contain his joy and good mood and he often thought he would do anything to make you smile. He hated public attention but he simply loved showing you off and enjoying life with you. However, he had to admit he was a little annoyed by the comments involving your relationship with his daughters. He knew there was no truth to it whatsoever but that didn’t make it less annoying. First of all, he hated seeing his kids’ names in the media, especially if it was negative and, secondly, he hated the idea of lies involving all of you, the people he loved the most on this earth. However, the four of you were grown women and he knew better than to say something so he figured it would be best to wait for it to die down. 

Unfortunately, though, the rumors did not die down and the whole thing got blown out of proportion. It wasn’t only on social media : press and other media outlets got ahold of the story and even dug up some obscure social media posts and took them out of context. They really made it seem like there was hatred between the girls and you were a mean gold-digger who wanted to estrange Marshall from his children. Nothing could be further for the truth though, and you even celebrated the holidays together. After years spent in the public eye, you tried not to let it get to you but it was hard. Even if some of your past relationships had been publicized, this one was on a whole other level and you had a hard time dealing with the scrutiny. Especially when some people were starting to wish for the end of your career with comments like « What a b****. Hope no one casts her ever again 🙄 » or « Hope she enjoys her Oscar because she won’t last much longer in Hollywood 💀 ». You tried not to let your feelings show. Marshall was already annoyed and you didn’t want things to get worse. After all, you knew how overprotective he could get over the people he loved. 

A few weeks went by and the attention seemed to die down around the holidays. You had been with Marshall for a year and a half and it was your first time celebrating together. You would spend the days leading up to Christmas in Michigan, go back to your family in California for the holidays and then jet off to a private Island lent by a friend for some vacation time just the two of you. Marshall would even join you in LA to spend some time with your family who was definitely approving of him. They absolutely adored him and considered him a part of the family. 

In the week leading up to Christmas, you were on Christmas tree decoration duty with the girls while Marshall was letting you do your thing. Hailie had come up with some ornaments as merch for her podcast and you thought it would be cute and funny to take a selfie with one of them that said « Shady or Nice ». You posted it to your Instagram account with some cheesy caption and didn’t pay it too much attention. When you checked the comments, a day or so later, you were surprised at the reaction. What you thought would be a cute nod to your boyfriend and his daughter’s podcast ended up in a shitstorm, with people basically accusing you on sucking up to Hailie to get to Marshall. In their mind, you were a master manipulator. Of course, these were just a bunch of people commenting and the rest seemed rather supportive and happy to see you acknowledging your relationship, something you rarely did on your social media account. Still, you were a little bugged off when you went to bed. 

What’s up, babygirl ? Marshall asked as he laid next to you. 

Nothing, you shrugged. Just these mean trolls. 

What are they saying now ? 

That your daughters hate me, you summed up. And that I’m trying to suck up to them. 

That’s stupid, he scoffed. The girls love you and you know it. 

And I love them too, you know ? You replied. But I don’t know… I don’t like people getting the wrong idea. And I see people commenting about me in their posts and it breaks my heart. 

It’s not your fault, he said before kissing your forehead. Let’s not think about that, ok ? Just focus on the holidays and the great time we’re going to have. 

I’m going to miss you for Christmas, you pointed out. 

Three days, he chuckled. And then I’m joining you in California. And after that… you, me, a private island and your tiniest bikinis. 

You nuzzled his neck and enjoyed the warmth of his embrace, making you forget all of your worries. The next day, you were set to hop on the jet to go back to California and enjoy some family time with your brother and your parents. Before that, you enjoyed one last brunch at Marshall’s place, with his daughters. Hailie got everyone matching ugly Christmas sweaters and you were absolutely moved that she got one for you. You took corny pictures in front of the Christmas tree posing with your boyfriend’s daughters while he was rolling his eyes at your dumb poses. You even got Marshall to pose with you. He wasn’t big on taking pictures but he knew how important these were for you and the girls so he obliged with a smile on his face. A few hours later, you were on the jet, scrolling social media and noticed that Alaina had posted the picture of you, her and her sisters in front of the Christmas Tree with the caption : « Happy holidays from our FAMILY to yours 💕 ». You thought it was the sweetest thing ever that she considered you as family. Of course, trolls were still in the comments, but you tried to stay positive. A few hours later, Hailie updated her last podcast episode of the year, with Stevie as guest. 

So, before we begin this episode, we wanted to address something, she began. 

Family matters, Stevie specified. 

Right, Hailie nodded. You guys have been commenting a lot on last episode’s video and on my Instagram account…

All our accounts, her sister corrected.

Yes. Everyone’s account. It seems like Internet is going crazy about a certain video that was taken at the last Lions Game, so I thought… we thought we should clear things up, Hailie said. I understand that there are always going to be rumors about our family, and we can’t help it at this point, but it’s the Holidays and I don’t my mood to be ruined by negative attention and lies. So… Stevie, do you want to comment on the video ? 

Basically, we were at the game, enjoying some family time and people filmed our reaction to Y/N… our Dad’s girlfriend, rapping Lose Yourself, Stevie explained. And kissing afterwards. And what really sparked the whole thing is the face Hailie made. 

Yeah, I pretended to puke, Hailie giggled. And no, guys, it’s not because I hate Y/N or anything like that, it’s just… we’re a normal family, guys. Whenever you see your parents being cheesy and corny, you want to puke, right ? 

Right, Stevie giggled. So, let’s not dwell on this but for the record : we love Y/N and she is not what people make her to be. We see her as family, you know ? 

Yes ! It’s the Holidays, it’s a family time and we all know I love Shady stories but… nothing Shady here. It’s all love, Hailie chuckled. 

Too much love, Stevie joked. 

This warmed your heart even more. The girls absolutely didn’t have to jump to your defense but the fact that they did warmed your heart and you couldn’t wait to spend some time with them again. You sent texts to thank them and wished them happy holidays, saying you were looking forward to seeing them soon. You also texted your boyfriend, telling him how amazing his kids were and that you loved him and his family. 

MARSHALL’S POV 

Marshall was eating dinner with his daughters when he got a text from Y/N that immediately put a smile on his face. 

You girls are amazing, he said with a smile. 

No idea what you’re talking about, Alaina said with feigned innocence. 

I think you do, he replied with a grin. Seriously, you didn’t have to do that but… thank you. It means a lot to me. 

We weren’t going to let people think we hate her, Stevie said.

Not when she is actually about to become our stepmother, Hailie said with a smirk. 

Marshall immediately let his fork fall on his plate, a look of surprise on his face. 

I… erm… wanted to talk to you about it first, he said. How do you even know… ? 

I found the ring sketches in your office last time I went there, Stevie said. I was searching for one of your old CDs. 

And you had to go yapping to your sisters about that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Are you really going to propose ? Hailie said with excitement. 

I mean… I’ve been thinking about it, yeah, he admitted. I wanted to make sure you girls were ok with it first but, if that’s fine with you, I’d like to propose to her over the holidays. 

The girls erupted in cheers and immediately gave their blessings, commenting on how they never thought this day would come. Of course, they quizzed him about his plans. 

Were spending a couple of days with her family before going on vacation for NYE, so I was planning on asking for her father’s blessing, he explained. 

Isn’t he like… almost your age, though ? Stevie chuckled. 

It’s a matter of respect, he shrugged. I appreciated when Matt and Evan asked for my blessing so I thought I’d do the same. Can’t hurt to have your future father-in-law on your side. 

And… as for the proposal ? Alaina asked. 

I know it’s not super original but I was thinking of doing it on the private island, over a nice dinner on the beach, at sunset or something like that, he said. 

It’s so cute ! Alaina said. I love it. 

I think my Dad’s gone corny, Hailie joked. 

You think it’s corny ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. 

Oh definitely. But she’s just as corny so she is going to love it ! 

One question though, Stevie said. If you guys get married, she’ll move to Detroit, right ? 

That’s sort of the plan, yeah, Marshall said. She’d move for work quite a bit, depending on where movies are shot, but she’d live with me. Why ? 

So… she’d have to turn into a Lions fan eventually, right ? 

I’m counting on it, he said with a smirk. 

Is that why you’re proposing ? Alaina joked. 

Maybe, he chuckled. I swear to God, I’m putting a ban on Rams apparel in the prenup. 

[ceilidho]

coworker soap who frames the fleshlight thing as a joke but with a creepy undercurrent that you cant understand why you know it isnt a joke but you also dont wanna rock the boat so you dont tell hr bc johnny the ex-military man is a model employee otherwise and you cant help but feel hot shame run down ur spine when he says it that you are, at least a little, flattered by it bc shit dude hes HOT. coworker soap who just. doesnt bring it up again. its just boiling rhe frog. he says weird, borderline creepy shit that could be passed off as "guy talk" in any other situation (regardless of readers gender). He follows you around like a puppy and where it used to be normal for you, you feel a little creeped out now but. everyone. already refers to you as a duo. itd be weird if you stopped for no reason? right?

i don't know what broke in my mind long ago that this is like, the weirdly hottest thing in the world to me but im genuinely twitching over it right now.

model employee Johnny, knows the handbook inside and out, walks elderly customers to their cars with their bags, shows up to work early for every shift, always with a smile and a positive attitude. management loves him because his sales are also record high (i mean, it makes sense - i wouldn't be able to say no if he was helping me with a purchase and tried to upsell me). he's also a spokesperson for the company in all of their internal training videos because he was hired through some "jobs for vets" program that they just rolled out (idk i'm making this up). and the guy can stack things on a shelf like no one's business lmao like MILITARY precision/organization.

all your coworkers love him and genuinely like fist pump whenever they get put on the schedule with him because he's a blast to work with, and some of your coworkers are actually incredibly jealous that he just seems to follow you around everywhere. hangs off your every word. always seems to just pop out from around the corner whenever you're having trouble reaching something on a shelf.

but he says weird, uncomfortable shit to you sometimes. way over the line. you don't even know what to say at first when Johnny jokingly tells you that he has a fleshlight at home that he's named after you, just laughs and then stares at you for a second. and you like, give a little awkward laugh, growing more uncomfortable by the second the longer he stares at you without blinking. until something passes over his eyes and suddenly he's back to normal, clapping you on the arm and wandering off back to the men's apparel section.

he does a lot of strange shit actually. maybe insists on walking you to your car when the two of you are on the closing shift and it's well into the evening. laughs a little too hard and with too much vigour when someone calls him your shadow, his eyes just a little too bright and fervent. asks if you want to sit on his lap while he shows you how to use the forklift in the backroom. begs management to let him take his breaks with you and doesn't let you have a moment of peace, just sits with you in the breakroom or follows you to your car when you say that you're going out for lunch.

and you can't complain to any of your coworkers because the second you so much as criticize his work, they bark at you to be nice to him. he's just re-acclimating to civilian life, of course he's not perfect at his job yet. they defend him viciously. and the real jealous ones even tell on you in front of him, leaving you standing there embarrassed and on the spot until Johnny just smiles and says that it's alright. you'll just have to teach him better.

[eqnoiaa]

sunscreen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: this was lowk rusheddd dont pay any mind to the mistakes !!

warnings: slight smut?? sexual depictions, light swearing maybe

"hey jayj, can you rub some sunscreen on my back? i cant reach.." you say whine as you pick up the open sunscreen bottle on the table next to you, the dry pieces falling into the cracks of the dock and into the merky water below.

jj turns to look at you smiling, taking the sticky sunscreen bottle from you. "of course, looks like you depend on me for everything, huh?" he smirks into the end of his sentence, moving closer to you with every word.

you scoff at the cockiness hes displaying, twisting your body so he could reach your lower back where the sunscreen needed to be applied

he was loving this right now, and you could tell by the way he was beaming with glory once he realized what was happening.

you spin around and your eyes lock with his as hes about to begin the application,"jj. be serious, its just sunscreen"

he scoffs. apalled you would even think of him as unserious, i mean, when has he ever displayed immaturity?

"me? unserious? sweetheart you must be mistaken." jj shook his head as he squeezed the bottle and swiped some cream on his two fingers. you have got to admit, his hands that have been working all day, the rings that had the reflection of the sun on it, and the nickname that had fallen off the tip of his tongue were doing things to you. you werent sure if you liked it or not.

"eyes up here, pretty"

he mumbled as he begins to rub the subscreen into your back. his calloused fingers sending shivers down your spine as you held back a low groan in pleasure.

"wheres kie when you need her, am i right?" jj chuckles behind you nervously, continuing to work his magical hands into you. you just laugh in agreement, still trying to hold back sounds threatening to spill any moment

jj moves into the sides of your stomach and hit a tender spot, allowing an errupt moan to fall

"ohh shitt.."

jj smiles and flips your hair over your shoulder to the front, moving his way up your back. "might have to get you to pay me for this since 'm doing so well.." he gloats, shifting his body closer to yours

you throw your head back a little to respond to him. but it hits his shoulder. now realizing how close the two of you were, you begin to feel a redness creep upon your tan cheeks.

"do you know how you could pay me, darlin'?"

he spoke in an almost whisper, still keeping his seductice husky tone that always manages to do something to you. you dont know what to say to him right now.

your hair blows into your face, almost sticking immediately due to the humidity in the outerbanks right now. he pulls away the few strands that got caught, and pulls you closer by his chest.

you wince at the coldness of more sunscreen being rubbed into your shoulders, almost shutting your eyes completely out of pleasure.

jj makes his hands down to the front of your body, inching closer and closer to the waistline of your american apparel underwear.

" 'this okay?" he mumbles against your neck, planting wet messy love bites all over it. marking what was his.

you almost forget how to speak, realizing what was happening. you wanted to push him away because you knew it was wrong, but your body needed him.

so bad.

"yes."

with your permission he dips his hand fully into your navy blue panties, his thumb brushing across your sensitive clit, making you whimper

all of this, so unexpected, the idea of someone catching you guys on the dock of your bestfriends house made this all so much better, the riskiness of it all turned you on. it turned both of you on.

"what do you want me to do you to, darlin?" jj whispers under his breath, teasing your entrance, waiting for a response. when he doesnt get one, he dips his finger almost in your now soaking pussy.

"huh?"

"everything, anythin' jj, just please do something."

the freudian slip gave him the reassurance he was waiting for, he wasted no time in allowing your walls to surround his fingers. his cold rings inside of you.

a/n: part twooo.??? lmk !!

jj maybank, your bestfriend, has 2 fingers inside of you right now, and youre loving it.

-‐-------------------------------𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪-------------------------

[sthavoc]

A Latina singer who does sings in English and Spanish who's actually very famous who has been dating Enzo for years but people are just now finding out and putting it together. People now realizing there's been so many sightings of them together or him at her shows.

🎤« 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐓-𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

𖥔 ࣪˖ pairing: enzo x latina!singer!fem!reader

𖥔 ࣪˖ summary: enzo and you have been dating for the past 3 years. nobody knew you guys were a thing but after reaching his peek after the drop of Society of the Snow, fans begin to piece pieces together.

𖥔 ࣪˖ warnings: only fluff I believe

𖥔 ࣪˖ note: I love this idea!! did this in headcanons. I hope you enjoy this anon and everyone<3 for the sake of the fic i’ll say she wrote some of the songs but all credit goes to its respective well talented owners.

☆ You and Enzo had met at a cafe. A classic frankly. The thing was that you had a concert in the city and Enzo was just visiting. The two of you hit it off well.

☆ You weren’t sure if to feel surprised or not at the fact that he didn’t know who you were at first. But later he told you he didn’t know much about famous people so that fairly made you understand. In some way, it also made you feel better at the fact that he wasn’t dating you because of your fame but because of the kind of person you were.

☆ If the man had the opportunity, he would go to your concerts. He would even take pictures of your fabulous outfits and of the whole arena filled with fans. It was as if you had your very own photographer.

☆ You would write him songs. There was no denying it, and he would know. One of his personal favorites was Lover. When you wrote it, both of you had just turned one year. To you, it felt like you had been dating that man for years instead of one. You were in love, and the fans knew it.

☆ Your favorite song for him was Disfruto. Not only because it was in Spanish but because that was your way of expressing that you would do anything for Enzo to feel safe with you. Never let him down since he is the one you want to grow old with and spend every important moment with.

☆ Later on, fans began to spot Enzo in your concerts. The thing was that in most of your shows, he wore hats, and due to the dimness of the light you wouldn’t be able to see much from his complexion, only his apparel. They would ask themselves. Who is that guy? However, overall they were happy for you.

☆ When the movie dropped, everyone was going insane with Enzo. That also entirely complicated how the two of you would have your relationship established now. Your fans knew you had been dating someone, and you somehow managed to keep the man a secret. But did you?

☆ When Enzo got his fans, and his media only grew bigger, a lot of pictures were revealed on the internet. Some of them would be from the movie, with the boys, from previous years, him as a teenager. There were specific ones of him with an Iron Maiden shirt. For some reason, the fans recognized the shirt.

“I swear I’ve seen that shirt on before him before.” They would say.

When they also went into one of his highlights out of curiosity and found a picture he had taken at one of your concerts. At first, they assumed he was a fan of you, but later when videos of the mysterious man at your concerts started to pop up again was when they began to question. Since some of the shirts Enzo would wear, he would have pictures with them. But fans still wouldn't be sure.

☆ Until there was a picture. You had posted a picture years ago of Enzo but you couldn’t see his face completely. Only a tad bit of his eye and nose. He laid on your legs as he napped, while your hand rested on his cheek. It almost covered most of his face, and he wore the Iron Maiden t-shirt. You had taken that picture down but of course, screenshots exist.

☆ Fans were jolted by the image and asked when that picture was taken. Everyone was saying that the picture was from 2 years prior, and that was when they started to connect everything thoroughly. That Enzo was the mysterious man in your concerts and the picture he had taken of the arena was just him being supportive. And that from that very picture was where they recognized the shirt from.

“YOU GUYS that was Enzo all along!”

“you’re telling me we’ve seen this man even before he reached his fame???”

☆ Enzo and you had gone public officially, after a month since the two of realized the fans already knew. You would go on dinner dates, breakfast, and brunch. And of course, if he had time in his schedule, he would still be there at your concerts. Videos of him would be on the internet the next day. With his camera resting on the strap around his neck and a huge smile carved on his lips with the glint of love in his eyes.

“Guys, look at Enzo being the best supportive boyfriend he is.”

[tiny-librarian]

When most people think of the Death of Cleopatra, they think of  something like the above pictures. Cleopatra lying on a couch, or standing there clutching a snake to her exposed breast. Or, as in some of the above cases, with the fabled serpent biting directly on to her nipple. She is almost always nude or nearly so, practically inviting everyone to gaze on her body as she lies there in her death throes. She is frequently delicately pulling her gown down to give the viewer a perfect view of her breasts. Often her equally unclothed handmaidens are falling over her in their own death throes, or gesturing dramatically to better showcase their nudity. There are also usually several other people portrayed there as well, staring down at the nude, or nearly so, Queen’s corpse.

It has been, and will likely continue to be, a popular theme in art to depict her that way. It used to be a titillating thing, an excuse to paint a beautiful nude/semi nude woman. She’s been immortalized as such in sculpture, paintings, wax figures, and everything in between.

This image of her though, is a myth. Pure and simple.

Stacy Schiff, the author of “Cleopatra: A Life” describes her death like so:

Cleopatra lay on a golden couch, probably an Egyptian-style bed with lion paws for legs and lion heads at its corners. Majestically and meticulously arrayed in “her most beautiful apparel,” she gripped in her hands the crook and flail. She was perfectly composed and completely dead, Iras very nearly so at her feet. Lurching and heavy-headed, almost unable to stand, Charmion was clumsily attempting to make right the diadem around Cleopatra’s forehead. Angrily one of Octavian’s men exploded: “A fine deed this, Charmion!” She had just the energy to offer a parting shot. With a tartness that would have made her mistress proud, she managed, ”It is indeed most fine, and befitting the descendant of so many kings,” before collapsing in a heap, at her queen’s side. Charmion’s was an epitaph no one could dispute. (Nor could it be improved upon. Shakespeare used it verbatim.)

Cleopatra went to her death as she’d lived her entire adult life, as the Queen of Egypt. She had her royal robes and ornaments on, and was thus fully dressed. She knew full well Octavian and his men were going to burst in on her, were going to find her and her ladies there dead. There is no chance she was going to be lying there undressed when a room-full of strange men were going to be looking at her. Cleopatra made sure she went first, so that her ladies could arrange her so nothing inappropriate would be seen. As far as we know, the only ones there at the time of her death were her and her two handmaidens, as they had barricaded themselves inside her mausoleum.

It’s likely all the nudity also stems from propaganda spread by Octavian both during her life and after her death, painting her as a whore and a seductress. Of course she would be naked she was the decadent Eastern Queen who seduced men with her witchcraft! It’s just one of the many, and increasingly ridiculous, misconceptions that’s been spread about her since her death and one that people should realize was certainly not true. The snake is now widely regarded by most scholars as a myth as well, since it’s far more likely she took some kind of poison to end her life instead.

[fuck-customers]

This happened a little over four years ago, but fuck you to the random lady I didn't know who tried to fire me without even knowing I exist

Okay so, I was a new hire, a few months into a job at a retail chain that's primarily grocery, but I worked in the apparel department. I was still being introduced to work tasks, and my availability was pretty flexible, so I was simultaneously learning how to do both morning and evening duties at the same time (not typical because most people do one or the other, but I was making a very quick reputation as both a quick learner and hard worker, and I had almost zero issues with customers because I was so friendly).

Well. One day while I was working the register for my section, a coworker approached me while taking an out-of-store call (we'll call her S). She asked me, "Hey Anon, did you put an item on hold for someone yesterday?"

Our store lets you call ahead to have an item put on hold if it's in stock, up until closing time the day after the call was made. Nobody had asked me to put anything on hold the prior day, so I said as much.

This confused S, because the customer she was on the line with said that an employee named "Anon" had claimed to put something on hold for her, but when she came in today we didn't have the item for her (yes, she was complaining over the phone rather than in-store). S had apparently checked with other employees prior to approaching me, and nobody had had anyone approach them asking for a hold item, let alone had to say we didn't have it. But I guess this lady wanted me in particular fired for not having something in the backroom for her, even though I'd never interacted with her.

Of course I was nervous. I was new, hardly out of my teens, and at my first regular job, at a company I'd come to learn was notorious for taking even the most outlandish customer claims very seriously.

But luckily, the lady slipped up. She'd thought that S put her on hold to find me, but really she'd just covered the phone mic with her hand. So, she overheard the lady say to someone that must have been in the room with her that she "didn't even know if there WAS an Anon at this store, but how it would be SO funny if there was and they actually got fired."

So this bitch.

This BITCH.

Had called up some random Med Fryer, to file a complaint about an employee she didn't even know EXISTED and just happened to correctly guess a name (it's a common one), because she was bored and got her kicks out of ruining random employees' livelihoods.

Needless to say S hung up after that and let management know someone was calling and making false complaints, so nothing ever came of it. But good god after all these years FUCK that lady. Hopefully she didn't ever actually get anyone fired what the fuck

Posted by admin Rodney.

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

Chapter 1.2 - Train Rides and Talking Hats

Chapter 1.2 - Train Rides and Talking Hats

Pairing: Harry Potter x Chosen One! Reader

‘“Oi,” you spoke, feeling your jaw clench at the blond boy’s demeanour. “I’d watch what I was saying if I was you, especially considering the crap that’s spewing outta your sewage-system of a mouth.” Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.” “Same goes for you.”’ OR: in which you hitch a ride on the Hogwarts Express and buckle up for one hell of a ride. → Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world. A swap au where you are the chosen one, your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers. Series Masterlist

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Perhaps, if you had any less self-respect, having had a mental breakdown on the King’s Cross platform would have been your morning on the 1st of September.

The train leaves at eleven, Hagrid had told you. The Caddels had dropped you off at the station at half past ten before leaving to drop Odette off at her new school, Smeltings, they’d said. All you were really aware of was the nifty cane that came with the uniform, supposedly used to thwack fellow peers. An excellent training for later life.

Regardless of peculiar apparels or uniforms – you had now acquired a steadily rising fear that you would never be able to wear your own, if you couldn’t uncover where exactly platform nine and three-quarters was located at the station. 

There they were, right in front of you, platforms nine and ten – right there – but nowhere could you spot any semblance or notion of anything three-quarters related. The large plastic number nine leered tauntingly at you, swinging back and forth vaguely with the passing breeze.

You had pestered the guard manning the station. He hadn’t even heard of Hogwarts, and since you had no flying clue where or even what the school was, you couldn’t describe it to him. The guard stared at you incredulously, as though you were deliberately trying to be stupid (you didn’t miss how he eyed Hedwig, your owl, who chirped irritably back at him). It took every ounce of your remaining willpower to not snap or lunge at him and cause a scene in the middle of the station, especially when a congregation of people had formed a circle around you to observe the exchange curiously.

Apparently, according to a variety of people at the station, there wasn’t even a train that left at eleven o’clock. And, though it was obvious, platform nine and three-quarters completely did not exist. Like, at all. And to top the cherry on your fabulous sundae of anxiety and chagrin, according to the large clock situated on the arrivals board, you had a little under fifteen minutes to be seated on the train. 

You wished Hagrid had left you with more information, but when the man had dropped you back at your house and allowed you the time to blink, he had vanished. Urgent magical business, you mused dryly. Almost like the kerfuffle of being stranded on a station with not the foggiest idea of where to go. 

Were you missing something? Did you need to cast a spell? What if you missed the train? Oh, you knew you should have read the books before coming to the station. You swore at that moment to leave no page in your spell-books unturned (in hindsight, you knew you would drop this vow three days in).

Just as you were preparing to brandish your wand at the stray ticket box next to platform nine, trying your very best to formulate a spell that would divulge the presence of platform nine and three-quarters. 

In a perfectly timed turn of events, a group of people passed behind you, and you managed to glean a glimpse of their conversation.

“ – packed with Muggles, of course –

You heard your neck crack from how fast you wheeled around. Muggles. You had never been happier to hear a single word. The speaker was a stout woman, to an audience of about five red-headed children. Four boys and a girl, who from the conversation that ensued, you discovered was too young to attend Hogwarts just yet. 

You trained your eyes on them like a hawk, shadowing ‘Percy’, the oldest boy, as he dashed toward the brick wall of platform nine, pushing his trolley along with him. Wincing, you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see him and all of his school supplies crash onto the floor. 

Miraculously, however, when you peeled your eyelids back open, the boy was gone. As were the twin brothers, Fred and George (or did their mother say George and Fred?). 

There was only one more boy left; a tall – though that entire family seemed to be on stilts – lanky, deeply freckled one. If you wanted to know where the sons were disappearing to, this was your final shot.

“Hey!” you called out, dragging your trolley behind you as you approached the remaining members of the red-headed family. Then, realising how the abruptness of a random girl yelling at someone may be perceived as abrash, you decided to dial back your advances. “Hi, sorry. Do you happen to know how to –” “How to get on to the platform?” she said kindly. “No worries at all, dear. Is this your first time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.” 

She pointed at her last son. He had dirt on his nose. You nodded your head slightly toward him in greeting, but your mind was still hyper focused on how the clock was dwindling closer and closer to eleven. “Pleasure,” you smiled, desperation beginning to blemish your voice, evident as it began to inch one or two octaves higher. “So, er, I’m hoping that you do know how to get to the train?” “That’s right,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Go on, go now before Ron.”

You ruffled the collar of your shirt, which was looking far too neat and sophisticated (and therefore, not nearly as charming as you preferred it to be). “Thanks, Miss.” 

You sucked in a deep breath before gathering your courage and sprinted toward the very solid, opaque looking barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. 

You were running — running like a lunatic, might you add, when you realised you were almost there — and then, quite suddenly, you weren’t. 

Rather, you now found yourself underneath a sign that read Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock.

Permeating through a brick wall was yet another box to check from your list of magical experiences. Twice, actually, if you counted the entrance to Diagon Alley. Odd was it indeed, but it was your odd now, and you lest would allow anyone try and rob you of it. 

You stood in awe, head on a swivel as you examined the new environment. A mammoth of a train, one whose size could only be attributed to the slight of one’s magical hand, with smoke seeping out of its charcoal chimneys, stood tall against the crowded stage of the station. 

You turned around to see if the red-headed family had made it through as well, and sure enough, there they were. The woman was still looking at you, and when you waved at her, her face split into a soft smile as she returned the gesture. You swept your dishevelled hair to the side – it had tousled itself into a heaping mess sometime during your episode on the other side of the train station. 

You only registered the consequence of this action when the red-headed woman’s eyes widened, and as an abrupt muteness circulated throughout the platform, capitulating the vocal cords of what seemed to be every single man, woman and/or child present there at that very moment. 

Families that were once bidding their children goodbye, lovingly caressing cheeks or smoothing down fly-away hairs, or families who were once loading trunks onto compartments, were now reacting in an identical fashion of the same scene that had transpired at the leaky pub; normal chatter was extinguished, and murmurs crept around the platform like an amateur thief in a treasure trove.

“The lightning scar!”

“Is that – oh, my sweet Merlin, it is!” “Oh – where –?!”

“Move! Let me get a glimpse!”

“Look, over there!”

“(Y/n) (L/n)!”

You stiffened under everyone’s combined gazes, the hasty switch of focus to you catching you off guard. But, as quickly as the alarm had rippled into your body, it had dispersed out. 

A smirk split your face, and you nodded toward the woman closest to you (who promptly went pink and near-fainted) as a way to acknowledge that you acknowledged their sudden interest in you. You heard someone chuckle at the sight, and a few more flurries of whispers were burgeoned from other by-standers.

During the time it took for you to jostle your trolley into an empty carriage near the back of the train, the number of people actively tracking your every move had died down, though only by a fraction. From the corners of your eyes, you could still see the odd third-year trying to estimate how many laces you had on your shoes, no doubt so he could pester his parents into buying the same pair. (You kept to yourself that they had previously belonged to Odette, however, as you seriously doubted anyone wanted to know that (Y/n) (L/n), hero of the wizarding world, still wore hand-me-downs.)

Unfortunately, it seemed that although you possessed the power to terminate the reign of the darkest and most powerful wizards in history, you had apparently not attained the muscles required to heave your trunk up the stairs onto the Hogwarts Express. You stumbled back, cursing as you reeled from the pain that rocketed through your foot after you dropped your trunk on your toes.

“Want a hand?” 

You looked up. It was one of the red-headed twins, from that family you had met before.

“Yes,” you said almost immediately. “Er, please.”

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

The three of you managed to successfully store your trunk into the corner of your compartment. Before you could thank the twins for their help, though, one of the twins pointed at the spot on your forehead where the thin lightning-shaped scar donned your skin. 

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n),” he announced. Just like Olivander, this had not been a question, but rather a statement.

“Yes,” you straightened your posture, raising your head a little higher. “That’s right. I am.”

The two boys gawked at you, and you subtly swept your sweaty hair to expose the scar even further. To your slightest dismay, however, the familiar voice of the red-headed mother drifted through the carriage before you were able to elaborate further on your tale of the lightning-shaped battle scar.

“Fred? George? Are you there?” Both the twins groaned at their mother’s summoning. Sparing one last glance at you, they ambled toward her call. “Coming, Mum.” You waved the twins goodbye. Sitting down by the window, you ducked your head so you could listen to the family, who were still on the platform, whilst being half-hidden at the same time. Their mother had scourged out a handkerchief and was furiously scrubbing at Ron’s nose to rid the smudge of dirt that laid upon it.

You watched with amusement as Ron tried to lurch away before being caught in his mother’s iron-fisted clutches once again.

“Mum – geroff!”

One of the twins snickered, leaning close to Ron. “Aaaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?” 

“Shut up!” You saw the oldest of the red-headed siblings saunter towards his family, already draped in his robes. A shiny red and gold badge was pinned onto his chest, with the letter P engraved onto it.

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said stiffly. “I’m up front, the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves –”

“Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy?” One of the twins gasped, bringing his hands to his face in disbelief. “You should have said something, we had no idea.” “Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it, once –”

“Or twice –”

“A minute –”

“All summer –”

You huffed a laugh at the back and forth going between the family. Percy the Prefect’s face was starting to sport a lovely bright, irritable shade of red. 

“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” queried one of the twins.

“Because he’s a Prefect,” their mother smoothed Percy’s already-perfectly-smoothened hair fondly. “All right, dear, well have a good term – send me an owl when you get there.” 

She sent him off with a kiss. 

You sunk back into your seat. For some reason, the jovial atmosphere you’d felt upon discovering the magical platform had now become strangely dampened. 

Call it a moment of weakness, sure – but in that moment, you wished that you could have a mother. A mother who would dote on you like that or who would comfort you. 

But, as soon as that looming train of thoughts had festered, you vanquished them from your mind – the other kids could keep their affectionate mothers who waved them goodbye as they left, the same, in fact, would go for their superficial, gentle-natured fathers; you had your fame and that topped any shred of whatever they may have had, whatever you were missing!

As though the red-head family were suddenly attuned with your train of thought, you heard the voice of the youngest child, the girl, pipe up. “Oh! (Y/n) (L/n) On the train? Please can I go see her, Mum, please, please, please…”

“You’ve already seen her, Ginny, and the poor girl isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is she really, Fred? How do you know?” “Asked her. Saw the scar. It’s really there – like lightning.”

“Poor dear.” 

Your fingers traced the pattern of the scar, not particularly liking the feeling of pity emanating from the family.

“No wonder she was alone. I wondered. She was ever enthusiastic, though, when she asked how to get on to the platform. I’d have thought she’d be scared, by herself…”

“Never mind that, do you think she remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?”

The red-headed mother swelled. “I forbid you to ask her that, Fred! No, don’t you dare. As though she needs reminding of –... ”

The disarrayed ruckus of another family hurriedly barrelling onto the platform, and ushering their boy onto the train, stripped your focus from the ginger group. 

Observing the mop of black hair, you realised pleasantly that it was the boy you had met at the Quidditch store that day in Diagon Alley. Closely behind him, a stressed looking woman with copper-coloured hair, followed him briskly onto the train. Your lips twitched as you noticed that she possessed the same brilliant green eyes as her son. 

The father, a carbon copy of his son, followed seconds after, carrying a tremendously large trunk onto the train. There was one more man – perhaps one of the uncles the boy had mentioned – who remained on the platform. You guessed that he was allowing the family their final moments together. He didn’t really look alike to the mother or father of Quidditch Boy’s family, so you presumed that he was probably an uncle by choice, not blood. He had sandy brown hair with substantially sized scars running down the entirety of his face and neck. There was a large, shaggy black dog beside him too, and you swore that it had winked when it saw you looking at the group.

A shrill burst of steam raged outwards from the chimney of the train. You guessed that this was a warning to families that the train was about to depart right now. True to your word, just as Quidditch Boy’s mother and father practically leapt off the train carriage they’d left their son in, the train doors slammed shut, and the vehicle began dutifully chugging forward. 

Left behind now, was the platform of nine and three-quarters.

Leaning back in your seat, you exhaled roughly. This was it, the moment that marked the beginning of your journey into Hogwarts. You had no clue where you were going, but you just knew it would be good. A grand moment, you were sure, but what you were also sure of was that the next few hours on the train (or possibly days or months, who knew?) would result in you being bored out of your mind. Stuck in an empty carriage by yourself with no one to talk to – tragic – maybe it would do you some good if you popped down into one of the other carriages and try to find some other first-years.

Coincidentally, the door of the compartment was opened by none other than Quidditch Boy himself. His hair was askew, glasses lopsided and cheeks clearly flushed from the rush of trying to scramble onto the Hogwarts Express before it departed. He did not have his trunk with him, which meant that his father was able to stash it onto the train it in time.

“Hey, again,” he flashed you a bashful smile. “Would it be alright if I could sit here?”

“Sure. No problem.” 

You observed him as he took the seat opposite you. He was already wearing robes of sorts, not the Hogwarts ones, judging from the lack of school emblem, but the sorts that you hypothesised would be the wizarding equivalent to a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Er,” he started, causing you to look over at him. “It’s nice to see you. Again.” “Yeah.” you agreed with him, offering a lopsided smile. “Great. To meet you.” 

“Yep.”

The compartment fell into a highly awkward silence, one that you were not at all familiar with. Back with the Caddels, or even at your previous school, you had no problem whatsoever making friends with strangers. In fact, conversation came easily to you – you weren’t the most popular girl in the grade for no reason, after all. So the stuffiness invading the atmosphere was most definitely unwelcome, and honestly, unnatural.

Thankfully the awkward cloud hanging above you and Quidditch Boy dissipated abruptly when the compartment door slid open again, revealing the tall, freckled, ginger boy. The other first-year you’d spoken to: Ron.

His eyes widened when he saw you sitting in front of him. “Uh – sorry, anyone else sitting here? Everywhere else is full.”

Quidditch Boy shook his head and Ron took the seat beside them, so they were both facing you. Ron’s gaze hadn’t settled and he kept on glancing toward you and then toward the window whenever he made eye contact with you. It was amusing, his discomfort, from how often he did it.

“Hey, Ron.” The red-headed twins popped into the compartment suddenly. “Listen, we’re going back down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” said the youngest sibling.

So we’re not going to question the spider. Seems good.

“(Y/n),” the other twin, the one who hadn’t been talking to Ron, turned to you. “And other Kid,” referring to Quidditch Boy, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. Anyways, see you later, then.” The three of you said bye in unison as the twins left.

As soon as they were gone, Ron blurted out, “Can we see the scar?” You blinked at him, and he went pink. Though, you complied either way (as you had no qualms to showing off the lightning-shaped bolt). Pulling your hair back, the scar on your forehead was revealed to Quidditch Boy and Ron.

“Wow,” breathed out Quidditch Boy. “It really does look like lightning.”

Ron was equally stunned. “So that’s where You-Know-Who – ?”

“Yes.” You grinned brightly at their awed expressions. They stared at you a couple seconds longer before Ron diverted his attention quickly back to the greenery flitting through the window.

“So, is your whole family magic then?” you asked Ron out of curiosity. 

You already knew that Quidditch Boy’s father was a pure-blood and his mother was a muggle-born, whatever that meant; you weren’t going to be the one to say you had no idea what those were.

“Quidditch Boy?” puzzled Quidditch Boy, eyebrows furrowing. 

Ah, had you said that outloud? Whoops.

You laughed, bringing a hand to your nape. “Sorry, I don’t know your name, so I’ve just, kinda, resorted to calling you Quidditch Boy in my mind.”

“Oh, well, I’m, uh, Harry. Harry Potter.” said the boy, smiling at you once more. 

You slouched further into your seat. “Nice to meet ya then, Harry Potter.”

Ron interjected into the conversation, for which you were grateful. The ginger boy seemed to hold the power of evaporating awkwardness with a snap of his freckled fingers. “Pure-blooded means that everyone on his father’s side is magic. I’m the same – everyone in my family is a wizard, well maybe except for my mum’s second cousin who’s an accountant, but we don’t really talk about him.”

“I get it,” you said, cupping your chin with your hand. “I’ve got no clue what I am. But I know that my father had no magic.”

“A muggle,” Ron nodded appreciatively. “Well, basically everyone knows that your mother was a pure-blood, though. That makes you a half-blood like him, since you’re a mix I guess.” He pointed at Harry. You were slightly startled that he knew more about your family and lineage than you did yourself. Maybe you should get used to people knowing more about you than you did yourself.

“A muggle-born’s a witch or wizard who was born from muggle parents,” continued Ron.

You tilted your head to the side. “Where does their magic come from, if they’ve got no magical blood or whatever?”

Ron looked partially affronted. “Who knows, – magic isn’t exactly something that comes in a nice little package that gets delivered to you when the time is right! All I know is that if you’ve got magic, then you’ve got it. That’s all there is to it, really.” He waved his hands about in the air for further emphasis. This was probably a topic Ron was passionate about, as you noticed his ears flushing red under the combined blank stares of you and Harry. You ponderedthat if Ron were to ever wear something salmon-coloured, it would definitely wash him out. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between his face and his left knee.

You tried to recover from the painful silence. “Thanks, that clears it up. You two must know loads of magic then.” 

“Not nearly enough as my mum wants me to,” said Harry.

“Hear, hear,” mumbled Ron.

“Huh. Guess that’s one good thing that comes out of being an orphan. No pushy mother for me!” You chuckled at the uncomfortable looks on the boys’ faces. 

“I heard you went to live with Muggles,” said Ron, scratching the back of his neck. “What’re they like?” “Alright,” you shrugged. “Not outstandingly nice or anything, but they do their job. Would be cooler to have wizarding brothers like you though.”

“Not if you’ve got five of them.” answered Ron gloomily. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes and Charlie’s old wand. I wanted an owl, but they couldn't aff – I mean, they got Percy one instead for becoming a Prefect.”

Ron’s ears went pink again. Your brain, it seemed, was temporarily delayed and was not able to formulate a response to that.

“I’m sure you’ll do better than all your brothers combined,” said Harry. 

Ron smiled gratefully at him. 

As the train rolled onward and your surroundings grew greener, you, quite helpfully, took Hedwig’s cage and placed her on the centre of the table, announcing that the first one to get nipped whilst feeding her treats would be declared the ultimate ‘Loser Lord and/or Lordess.’ Hedwig loved you, so obviously she went ham whenever the two boys got close to her in order to secure your victory.

The three of you fell into an easy conversation after that, and you barely even realised how much time had passed until a smiling, old-looking woman popped her head into the compartment and said “anything off the trolley, dears?”

With that lovely gesture, you had leapt out of your seat and essentially pounced onto the food she was offering. Your pockets were lined with wizard money now, an infinite stash really, and so there was nothing stopping you from buying multiples of everything she had. As such, you, Harry and Ron had to literally struggle and drag back the food you’d hoarded, before dumping it on the table.

“Hungry, are you?” said Ron, raising his eyebrows at the pile of snacks that was nearly as tall as him.

“Starving,” you grinned back.

You, Harry and Ron tore into the pasties and cakes, the mountain rapidly diminishing by the second. There was one incident with a chocolate frog creeping into Hedwig’s cage before getting mauled by her talons. The card that supposedly came with the treat, had also been destroyed, so Harry had given his to you. One with a moving picture of Albus Dumbledore, who had waved politely at your stunned expression.

Once you’d moved onto Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans, you found a lot of enjoyment when Ron had the misfortune of coming across a bean that tasted like dirty socks. Though, your amusement at Ron’s plight had been adjourned with the appearance of a round-faced boy.

“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

“No, sorry.”

You were taken aback when the boy promptly burst into tears. “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!” “He’ll turn up,” said Harry.

“Yes,” said the boy, turning away dejectedly. “Well, if you see him…”

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” remarked Ron once the boy had left. “If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quick as I could.”

You deadpanned at him. “You haven’t even got any pets to lose, Ron. I’m betting that if you ever got one, you’d have even worse attachment issues than Toad-Boy.” “Mind you,” said Harry, talking around his mouthful of Cauldron Cake. “That’s saying a lot.”

“What’ve you got then?” asked Ron, turning his head to glare at Harry. “You seem awfully high and mighty for someone who probably doesn’t even have anything at all.”

“I’ve got a dog,” defended Harry. “Snuffles.” You stifled a giggle. “Snuffles? No way you named your dog that!” “I didn’t pick the name!”

“A dog’s not as good as an owl anyways,” you teased.

“I’d beg to differ – my dog totally is,” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms. “Plus you don’t even need to have an owl – the school’s got its own aviary shock-full of ‘em that you can send letters with.”

“One day, I’m gonna get an owl.” Ron sighed dreamily. “Just for myself, I wouldn’t have to share with Fred or George or Percy or Ginny.”

“Who’s Ginny?”

Before Ron could express the identity of this ‘Ginny’, the compartment door was opened by a bushy-haired girl whose face was wrinkled up irritably. Toad-Boy also made a reappearance.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.” 

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening. Rather, she had been staring at you. 

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n).” she declared matter-of-factly. “I saw you at the station. I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

Ron gaped at her and Harry blinked a few times repeatedly.

“Be surprised if I wasn’t,” you said, winking cheekily. You also had no idea what she was talking about though.

She studied you appraisingly before asking Ron and Harry “and who are you?”

“Ron Weasley.”

“Harry Potter.”

“Pleasure. Well, I’m Hermione Granger. I was ever so pleased when I got my letter to Hogwarts, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard – I’ve learnt all of our set books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough.”

All three pairs of eyebrows furrowed in synchronisation. You, personally, had only caught about one-third of what she had been saying since she’d been basically rapping out her words. 

Herminkoni (was that what she said her name was?) began talking again. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds the best by far, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. Anyay, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

Herpes Motion thus turned around and left, taking Toad-Boy with her.

“Well,” you announced cheerfully. “She was nice.” “Sure,” muttered Ron, reaching for a Treacle Tart. 

“She was right about one thing though,” said Harry, grinning and brushing his hair out of his face. “Gryffindor, by far, is definitely the best house.”

“Who’s Gryffindor?” you squinted your eyes at him. Ron attempted an exasperated face-palm with his left hand (he was still holding the tart in his right). Harry laughed at this, before proceeding to explain the four houses to you.

Gryffindor had been the house Ron’s and Harry’s families had gotten into. The house of the brave, it was known for. Ravenclaw, the house for smart people (you had a feeling you would not be getting into that); Hufflepuff was the house for the loyal and well-meaning. And finally, there was Slytherin. Both Ron and Harry detested the green-and-silver clad house, for it had been the house to pump out the most dark witches and wizards.

“Ah,” you said. “So naturally, we should hate that house, since that was the one Voldemort was – ” “Woah,” interrupted Ron, looking impressed. “You just said his name.” “Why wouldn’t I? It’s just a name. Anyways, I’m guessing that you both want Gryffindor then?”

“Of course!” Ron puffed out his chest. 

“Hey,” Harry began, rubbing your chin. “Have you — ”

Unfortunately, whatever Harry had wanted to ask had been interrupted by the compartment door sliding open again. 

This time, it was a group of three – the ringleader being a sallow-faced, gauntly blonde boy. The other two were giant-sized, goliath looking boys who looked like his bodyguards. And, of course, they were all fixated on you. (But then again, why wouldn’t they be?)

“Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that (Y/n) (L/N)’s in this compartment. So, it’s you, is it?”

“That’s right,” you smiled at him.

His lips twitched into a small smirk. He waved his hand carelessly at the two body-doubles next to him. “This is Crabbe and that’s Goyle. And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron choked on his treacle tart, but you suspected that may have been him trying to disguise a sneer. Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes on Ron.

“Think my name’s funny, do you?” he sneered, causing your hackles to raise immediately. “No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” 

Ron’s face went pink again and he sunk into his seat. 

Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry, but before he could say something about his family, you cut him off.

“Oi,” you spoke, feeling your jaw clench at the blond boy’s demeanour. “I’d watch what I was saying if I was you, especially considering the crap that’s spewing outta your sewage-system of a mouth.”

Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.”

“Same goes for you.” 

You stared down Draco Malfoy. Harry was glancing back and forth between the two of you, and he looked ready to stand up if this altercation escalated.

“You don’t get to come in here and poke fun at us,” you muttered slowly. “Especially, if you want to be on good terms with me.”

His cheeks tinged a faint pink. “Not like I would want to be friends with the likes of you.” He placed the emphasis on ‘you’ the same way you did for ‘me’.

You, Harry and Ron all stood up. 

“I think it’d be best if you left.” you gritted out, disliking the boy less and less by every twitch of his rat-like face.

Unfortunately for you, Malfoy’s rattish face had broken out into a sneer. “You’ll regret making enemies out of me, (L/n). I promise you that much.”

He furiously spun around and out of the carriage, but not before he could shoot you a final scathing look. Crabbe and Goyle chased after him, robes billowing out from behind them.

“What a buffoon,” you huffed angrily.

“Agreed,” said Harry, still glaring at the door.

“I’ve heard of his family before,” said Ron darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side.” “‘Specially if they thought it was the winning side,” added Harry.

The door opened before you could open your mouth. There was Hermit Yeti, yet again, standing at the entrance.

“What has been going on? Why did I just see three boys bolting out of this compartment?” She looked you up and down. “You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”

“They were the ones starting it – not us!” defended Ron, scowling at her.

“All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” she said sniffly. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know that?”

“Thank you,” you interjected, glaring at her on behalf of Ron. “Could you leave now?”

And finally, Herm-onion left.

If you had to guess, it had been only an hour after that when the train had pulled to a stop. You had slipped on your robes, ensuring that they still had your signature wind-swept appearance about them. Ron and Harry were also wearing their school robes now too. The three of you stuffed your pockets with the remaining sweets before you left the train.

Hopping out of the train and onto the station, you were delighted to be met with the familiar, wild face of Hagrid, the giant-man. 

“Firs’-years! Firs-years over here! All right there, (Y/n)?” He beamed at you from under his scraggly beard.

You waved enthusiastically at him. 

The first-years, it looked like, had their own means of reaching the school, which involved travelling in groups of four in a little boat across a lake. You, Harry, Ron and the bushy-haired girl (to your displeasure) took a boat close to the front.

Whilst you did not dislike the girl, you weren’t fond of her tendency to huff or be bossy, especially when she did it toward Ron (which you found she did often). Harry hadn’t done anything to get into her wrong books, and nor vice versa, so they were probably on the most amicable terms between your little trio.

The boats glided in unison across the great body of water, before coming to a stop at the front of the school’s castle. You could hardly hear Toad-Boy’s reunion with his toad (“Trevor”) amongst the excited buzzing in your ears.

The gaggle of first-years came to a stop at the entrance of Hogwarts, a ginormous wooden castle door. Hagrid raised his fist and rapped three times on it. 

The door opened immediately. There was a stern, grey-haired witch standing behind it. She was sifting through the crowd intensely, and her gaze did not linger on your scar like how most peoples’ did.

“The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” The door was opened further and you streamed into the Entrance Hall. The entire school was huge, you realised, and was very elaborately decorated – like something you would read in a book. Flaming torches illuminated the corridor. The first-years were pulled into a little room, next to a place where you could hear the rest of the school talking.

It was then you noticed that Ron appeared quite pale under his freckles and that Harry was fiddling with his fingers. In fact, every first-year seemed to be exhibiting some sort of nervous tick, apart from Malfoy, who was rolling his eyes for some reason. 

You drew your eyebrows together in confusion. Should you have been scared too? It wasn’t like they were going to force you to fight each other or anything right? At least, that’s what you hoped. Although, you definitely knew that if they made you fight, you’d win.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and speed free time in your house common room.

She continued giving a debrief of the houses, but as it was something you had already heard from Harry and Ron, it wasn’t anything new. You fidgeted restlessly, wanting to get onto the Sorting already.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes lingered on your messy hair and ruffled collar, as one lapel stuck upwards. 

Once she left, you turned to Harry and Ron. “What do they do to get us into these houses? Is it like a test? Based on how you answer, that’s where you get in? Like, ‘what is the square root of sixteen?’”

“That’s probably only good for finding Ravenclaws and non-Ravenclaws though,” said Ron, taking you seriously. “My brothers said it was a test too, though. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

Harry was looking more unsettled by the minute. 

“Hey,” you said, patting his shoulder, mistaking his expression as anxiousness. “Don’t be nervous. I’m sure Ron’s brothers are just messing with us.” “Me too,” confirmed Ron.

“But,” Harry’s green eyes met yours. “A test? I didn’t know we had to do a test. In front of the whole school? I can barely do two spells, how will they sort me with that? I— I didn’t think — I mean, my dad said— I thought it had something to do with a ha –”

“Listen,” you began, patting his shoulder. “That’s already two more spells than I know, and probably most of the first-years too. That Malfoy kid included.” 

You narrowed your eyes at the said blonde boy, before returning them to Harry. “Don’t worry, alright? Test or not, I’m sure we'll all do great. Probably.” 

Beside you, Ron nodded in agreement (although it looked like his skin was also beginning to reach a sickly pale green colour).

“You’re right,” said Harry, and you were pleased to see that he was a fraction less scared than he was a moment ago. Although he did still look a tad bit confused.

Anyways, moving onto more pressing matters. You didn’t bother with ‘smartening yourself up.’ You were already pretty smart enough, in your opinion. Having bested the darkest wizard of the age at a meagre one year of age didn’t come to just anyone, you know?

After a whole debacle with some ghosts or something flying in to greet you before the ceremony, Professor McGonagall entered the room once more. You all trudged in a single-file line into the Great Hall.

You gaped openly at the Great Hall, which looked even bigger than the Entrance. Four long tables were lain across the room, with golden plates and goblets sitting on each. The students were segregated by houses, indicated by the colour of their robes and ties. There were also several candles floating in the air, which was pretty sweet too. Oh, and the roof looked like the sky as well. 

Professor McGongagall placed a three-legged stool in front of school, and then she placed a rusty-looking hat on top of it. You deadpanned when it broke into song, and even more when everyone burst into applause once it finished.

“So, we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whisper-yelled to you and Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!” Harry gave him an unsure smile, and said “I tried telling you it was just a weird hat. You threw me off with the test talk.”

Professor McGonagall approached the stool, unravelling a long roll of parchment paper. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

Hannah stumbled from the crowd of first-years and toward the professor. She placed the hat on her head and after a moment of silence, the hat shouted out “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table on the right, with the yellow-and-black clad students, the house of Hufflepuff, cheered and hollered as Hannah went to join them.

‘Bones, Susan’ went up next and she too went to Hufflepuff. ‘Boot, Terry’ went to Ravenclaw, and ‘Brown Lavender’ became the first new Gryffindor. The cheering from the red table was definitely the loudest, especially when right after ‘Bulstrode Millicent’ was sorted in Slytherin and all she got was only a polite and semi-subdued applause from her new house.

A few more people went, and then, so did ‘Granger, Hermione’ (so that was her name) who sat on the stool for a precariously long period of time before being sent to Gryffindor. Ron groaned. Toad-Boy (Longbottom, Neville!) got Gryffindor too, but somehow, he was on the stool for even longer than Hermione.

You were raising your hand to scratch at the itch in your ear when your name was called. 

As you stepped forward, the students in the Hall started to whisper loudly, just as they had done at the station.

“(L/n), did she say?” “The (Y/n) (L/n)?” Those comments did not help the rising ego blooming inside of you. You swaggered over the stool and sat down. Your fingers delicately gripped the brim of the hat. The fabric felt ragged and old underneath your fingertips. You brought the Sorting Hat down toward your –

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat had barely scraped the fly-away hairs on your head when it shrieked out. 

The Great Hall was silent for a few, stunned moments, taken aback by your instantaneous sorting. You stared back at them with wide eyes, darting downwards to look at Harry and Ron. They were wide-eyed too, before the dam of silence was broken, and they beamed gigantic smiles at you, alongside the entirety of the Gryffindor table erupting into cheers – louder cheers than for any of the people before you. 

You felt a warm glow in your chest. You looked around the table, and saw many friendly faces. Percy the Prefect had dived over the table (almost) to shake your hand vigorously and you could hear the Weasley twins jeering “we got (L/n)! We got (L/n)!” Even the resident Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, was congratulating you for your placement by patting your arm, which felt oddly like you were being doused in a bucket of cold water.

At the High Table, Hagrid was grinning and gave you the thumbs up of approval. Dumbledore, as you recognised him from the chocolate frog card, was up there too with a faint twinkle in his eye.

The only notable people left up, really, were Harry and Ron. 

Harry had been called first.

The Sorting Hat was sat upon his head for what seemed to be the better portion of an eternity. For the first time since your arrival, you felt a jolt of fear. What if you and your friends would be separated into different houses? You didn’t to be stuck in a full with only Neville and Hermione, everyday. What would happen if you woke up to find Neville’s slimy toad on your pillowcase or —

You felt a surge of joy and relief, as after a minute or two, the hat declared “GRYFFINDOR!” and the Great Hall erupted in cheers for Harry. You clapped your hands and smiled widely, looking for him among the sea of red and gold.

He took a seat beside you and you high-fived him.

“Nice to see you here, Potter, Harry,” you said, changing your voice to mimic McGonagall’s.

“Nice to see you too, the (Y/n) (L/n),” he snickered, mocking the way the students had reacted when they’d heard your name.

You grinned at him.

Ron joined you rather quickly, even though he was one of the last people to get sorted. You were delighted at this, as it meant you could still be with them for the rest of your Hogwarts years, if what Professor McGonagall had said about your house being akin to family, was true.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, “Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” He sat down, and as he did, food magically appeared in front of you.

“Is he – a bit mad?” Harry asked you uncertainly.

“Probably,” you said, shrugging, reaching for the roast potatoes.

You scarfed down your food, listening to the conservation around you. You cheered when the dessert had come, causing the people around you to chuckle, quietly – except for Ron, who had gotten to the apple pie before you could.

You wrestled Ron for a slice of said pie, and were happily munching on it when you glanced back up to the High Table. Hagrid was drinking from his goblet, and Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were in a deep discussion with each other. Another Professor, in a purple turban, was fiddling nervously with his cutlery, tapping his fork against the edge of the table. He was speaking with a professor with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.

The teacher, as though he could sense your presence, glanced straight past the Turban-Professor and bore his black eyes into yours – a sharp, hot pain seared within your scar, and you let out a hiss of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked you, foreheading furrowing in concern.

“N-nothing.” The pain had left as quickly as it had come. How strange. You got the feeling that the hooked-nose teacher did not like you very much.

“Who's that teacher, the greasy-haired one?” you pointed at him, not discretely.

Harry stifled a laugh. “That’s Snape. No one likes him, they say he wants to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but every year he gets stuck as the Potions one instead. My dad doesn’t like him at all – actually, my entire family doesn’t really either.”

“Why’s that?” you questioned.

“Not sure,” said Harry, but he scratched his cheek nervously. “They won’t tell me.”

Deciding not to press him further, you continued to watch Snape a little longer. He never looked at you again, though, after that.

Once the desserts had all faded away, Dumbledore had announced his final speech and conducted a very tragic school school orchestra. He wiped his eyes, from pain or sadness or you guessed maybe even both, when they had finished. “Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Powering your legs through the sheer force of the food you’d guzzled down, you followed Percy up to the Gryffindor Tower. With horror, you realised that you’d have to climb an average of seven staircases everyday, simply just to get to your bed. 

Anyways, the entrance to the Gryffindor headquarters was through a painting of a Fat Lady and she flipped open when you told her the password, Caput Draconis. You scrambled through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. 

You lazily trudged up the stairs, and without even bothering to notice that your trunk had been transported up to your dorm room, you face-planted onto your bed and fell into a heavy sleep.

Perhaps you had eaten a bit too much, because that night, you had a very strange dream. 

You were staring into a mirror, desperately trying to tug off a purple turban from your head. When did you get a turban? How did you get a turban? The fabric of the turban grew tighter, making you feel a sharp pain in your skull as the turban squeezed your head like a vice. You wondered how you got into this mess in the first place.

Furiously pulling, pulling, at the turban finally caused it to unravel and expose your hair. With a start, as you glanced back to the mirror, you discerned that your face had, horrifyingly enough, taken on the face of Snape. His own black, empty eyes stared back at you. 

You scrambled back, leaping away from his cockroach-like eyes, only to find that, for some reason, there was a bottomless abyss behind you. You fell down, down, down into a pit. Closing your eyes as your head thrummed painfully, you braced yourself for the impact. 

A bright flash of green light, and a high, cruel laugh jerked you awake. 

Oddly enough, however, when you’d gone back to sleep, you hadn’t remembered the dream at all. You did question, however, the next morning why when you closed your eyes, all you saw was a luminous, green light in the shape of a lightning-bolt scar.

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

→ Author's Note: Hello my lovelies, welcome to ch 1.2 yippee!! Sorry that its super long but we’re pretty already halfway through the ch 1 portion of the series XD — I’m guessing now that it's gonna reach about 1.4 or 1.5 but I could also be widely incorrect :P Anyways that’s all so catch ya next time :))) thank you

Time for this chapters analysis ~ You will have probs noticed one of the most canon-divergent parts of this series so far is that instead of the same dilemma Harry faced when he was getting sorted (Slytherin vs Gryffindor), as soon as the hat touched the little hairs upon your head, you were sorted into Gryffindor. During this chapter, and a little of the last one (but mostly this one), I've kinda been subtly trying to hint that the Reader is really quite arrogant and brazen. Rather than Harry as the chosen one, where he longs for a quiet and normal life, Reader dives headfirst into her role. She shamelessly self-promotes her lightning-scar and doesn’t try to hide it – she knows she’s special and she feeds into that!!  She’s kinda like James Potter in that regard >.< and therefore I want her to kind of be epitome of a Gryffindor (courageous and arrogant) and maybe, maybe not, a parallel to Draco Malfoy (who also got sorted into Slytherin ASAP, and is ambitious and arrogant) hehe → that’s also why Reader and Malfoy get more aggressive even more quickly than Harry did in canon… Anyways!!! This is the briefest hint at what I have in store for this series, and we’ll see how Reader’s arrogance courageousness deviates Harry Potter from canon.  Tbh I’m planning to make the reader Percy Jackson-coded (with the sass and reckless bravery and loyalty and what not) and maybe just the slightest bit Gojo-coded hehe,  I know that it's not that clear rn lol but I’ll work my way into it hopefully… Anyways, thanks again! :D Series Masterlist

Taglist (thanks for asking!): @kaverichauhan

[candlecoo]

Wooden Doll: Given what we’ve seen so far, I think Sana will be very successful. I could certainly see Uravity and Froppy plushies being very popular with kids.

Every article of “Pinky” clothing has “Alien Queen” hidden on it somewhere.

He managed to turn Toru’s gimmick into a whole line of Invisible Girl t-shirts. At least twenty unique designs.

Of course, nobody will ever compare to the limitless marketability of Changeling.

Sadly, Endeavor sold his son’s image rights to the same company that handles his own merchandising, and the contract is legally binding until Endeavor retires.

Sana gets alot of contracts and business.

Uravity, Froppy and Anima are is best selling plushies because of how cute they are. They are extremely popular with kids!

Here's Invisagirl and Pinky's jacket:

and yes I changed Toru's hero name "Invisible Girl" is just so uninspired...

They have alot more apparel as well.

Shoto is unfortunately stuck in a contract due to his father. But thankfully it's only a two year contract and not until Endeavor retires. Shoto is still extremely upset by it but he just has to make sure not to approve any merch for the next two years and he's golden.

[lorwolfofficial]

We're back! Apologies for the radio silence over the past few months, we're pleased to say that JimJim's arm has been healing well and is almost entirely recovered. Our team has been hard at work building, testing, and creating art assets for the achievement system - and we're pleased to announce that it will be launching today as soon as the scheduled maintenance has concluded!

We've also taken this time to go back and address some of the bugs and issues that have been reported. Recent code changes have been recorded in the latest Patch Notes 1.1.6.

It's finally ready; achievements have just landed in the world of Loria! Players can track their progress as they complete goals and unlock achievement-exclusive rewards through everyday, regular gameplay. Navigate to the Achievements page from the Den menu:

Achievements have been divided into four subcategories - General, Gameplay, Professions, and Den. If you have an achievement reward available to claim, it will display as a small red dot next to the tab name.

General: For completion of general gameplay tasks such as achievements completed, weekly activities completed, etc.

Starter: A category to help onboard new players to the game. Apparel items awarded in this category are not soulbound, and can also be purchased from Marvin's Mole Market.

Gameplay: Includes Arena, Campaign, Gauntlet, and Pageant tasks and awards several different exclusive apparel sets and recipes.

Professions: Covers every profession and awards weekly event vouchers.

Den: A category for miscellaneous tasks such as inventory management, wolf breeding, etc.

Completing an achievement may grant any of the following: Achievement points, Moonstones, Pebbles, Forum titles, Companions, apparel items, food, materials, and more. (As a side note, this update has almost doubled the total number of official game apparel!) Once an achievement has been claimed, it will be sent to the player via Notifications.

Achievement points and titles will display below a player's profile within the Forums. Titles can be set from the Account Settings page.

Some final notes:

Due to this being the very first iteration of Achievements, the majority of player progress made prior to this update can not be backdated. Achievements such as profession and companion level will be updated automatically by the system. Moving forward, players should expect some adjustments as we continuously work to ensure a fair and rewarding experience. We've set the rewards and requirements according to the predicted data of an average player who logs in over the course of a year, but this may change as more players engage with the feature and provide feedback. Some achievements will be met relatively quickly, while others are to be earned over paced regular gameplay. We plan to add even more achievements and rewards as the site and its features grow to ensure the average player always has something to work towards. We welcome any and all gameplay suggestions from our community to be posted in the Suggestions Forum.

New Recipe Search and Mining Ore

A new search, sort, and pager feature have been added to both the Crafting and Cooking professions. Now, players can easily search and sort through their ever-expanding list of recipes without having to scroll through the entire page.

It's time to collect all the shinies - precious gemstones can now be mined throughout the caves of Loria! Players can now rarely find Sapphire, Ruby, Amethyst, Citrine, and Emerald gems. As of now, these gems can be used to craft the exclusive Achievement daggers. We plan to release many new crafting recipes and apparel items featuring these rare gems.

New Breed Sneak Peak

Shown above are a couple sketch ideas for Lorwolf's upcoming wolf breed - Direwolves! We're aiming for this breed to be big, bulky, and powerful; with massive fangs and a short bob-tail. It will be similar to lynx cats in appearance and will have a special affinity for nature and ancient magic.

In other news, our annual Black Friday sale returns next week; more info about that will be coming soon! Thank you for sticking with us, especially when development may seem slower than usual. Our small yet passionate development team is committed to bringing the best experience to our players. We are so proud of how far we've come, and we want to thank you for your continued patience.

Moonsblessings, Alaunis, JimJim, and Swell

[jdinstitute]

HOW TO MANAGE INVENTORY EFFECTIVELY IN RETAIL STORES

Poor Inventory management is the key reason why most retail businesses fail. Poor inventory management can lead to understocking and overstocking, which can harm a business and its operations.

Proper inventory management, on the other hand, can help boost sales, cut down expenses, and keep customers happy. If you are planning to set up a retail business, then having proper inventory management skills and knowledge is crucial for business success. An apparel management course can help you learn about brand management, product sourcing and improvement, developing business plans, marketing tactics and more.

Learn More :- https://jdinstitute.co/how-to-manage-inventory-effectively-in-retail-stores/

[rugtopper]

I Hate Butterscotch

By Rugtopper

I was beyond excited.  After making every excuse imaginable to see my dentist whenever I could over the years, Dr. Goldstein finally asked me out to dinner.  Yes, I guess I could have been bold and asked him myself, but he is at least 25 years older than me.  I have had a crush on him since I was a teenager.  He is so handsome and dapper.  He also has something else that most anyone, male or female, would find off-putting.  He wears a toupee.  It's not high quality in any way.  It doesn't even match the color of his real hair. You see, I have this bizarre problem:  I have a fetish for toupees.  Every time I'm in that dentist's chair, I get so turned on just staring at Dr. Goldstein's hard, fake hairline.  His toupee is a deep chestnut brown, very thick and full, with a traditional left-sided part.  The thing that makes it stand out is the upsweep off the forehead.  There are far better hairpieces on the market that he could have purchased, but for whatever reasons he went with a less-than-perfect facsimile of human hair.  I have never said anything to him about it, although I have wanted to.  

The night finally arrived.  I had changed my mind nine times over what to wear.  I knew he was taking me to a very upscale restaurant, so I knew I needed to wear a suit.  I had debated which of the three I owned to wear, and decided to wear the dark navy; then, there was the decision about the tie.  I had many in my collection that had belonged to older male relatives who had passed on.  Twenty minutes before he arrived, I finally decided on a bright floral.  My shirt was crisp and white.  My undershirt was taut across my pecs and clearly apparent underneath.  I had decided to wear these silly silk pink boxer shorts with red and white hearts on them - just in case.  I had gone all-in with garters for my socks.  I had worn them since college.  A fraternity brother had gotten me into them.

Dr. Goldstein arrived on time looking handsome as ever in a dark charcoal suit.  Like me, his shirt was crisp and white, but thicker than mine.  Still, I could see the faint outline of the scoop of his a-shirt.  I knew he had more traditional leanings in apparel.  When I opened my front door, my voice caught in my throat.  The way the porch light seemed to magnify the artificiality of his hairpiece took my breath away.  I didn't want to go to the restaurant.  I just wanted him in my bed with his hair on my dresser.  Still, I managed to find my voice and greet him.

"Good evening, Dr. Goldstein."

"None of that 'doctor' stuff tonight, Chris.  Please call me Jake.  Now, are you ready?  That restaurant won't hold our reservation."

"Sure, of course."

I'll skip over the dinner conversation.  It was pleasant, but pedestrian.  The food was excellent.  I thought that I had been fairly successful in avoiding staring at his hair, but I guess I failed because as we got to dessert and coffee Jake put his fork down and looked directly into my eyes.

"Uh, Chris, is there something wrong with my hair?  You keep staring at it."

I immediately crossed my legs and said, "I am so sorry, Jake.  I didn't mean to stare, or embarrass you.  I never would want to do that."

"Then why do you keep staring at it?  You seem to do it all the time, especially when you're in the chair for your checkups."

"I apologize, Jake.  It's just that . . . Never mind.  I can't say."

"Of course you can, Chris.  I've known you since you were 12.  You can tell me anything."

"Okay.  Uhm . . .  I don't want to embarrass you or hurt your feelings."

"You won't, Chris.  Now, just say it."

I took a sip of my coffee.  It tasted very bitter, so I added another spoonful of sugar and took another sip.  "Okay.  Jake, I really love your hair.  I think it is so beautiful.  There, I finally said it out loud".  After I said that, I tightened my crossed legs even more to keep what little I had from popping up.

At first, Jake got this slightly shocked look on his face, then he seemed to blush.

"You didn't hurt my feelings at all Chris.  In fact, I'm quite flattered.  But, I'm also somewhat embarrassed."

"I'm so sorry, Jake.  Now I'm embarrassed for upsetting you." I took another sip of coffee.

"Chris, I'm not upset, but I am a little embarrassed.  You see, this is very difficult for a man to admit, but I actually wear a toupee."

I crossed my legs even tighter, forcing my nuts to roll up inside myself!  I tried to keep a pleasant look on my face, but I was so excited.  I was also suddenly flushed and slightly dizzy.

"It looks great," I lied to him.  Actually, it looked great for someone with my issues, but it looked bad for someone who is trying to convince the world that his hair is real.

"I had to start wearing one when I was in college.  A lot of men are embarrassed about losing their hair, especially at a young age.  Are you okay, Chris?  You don't look well." What I tried to say was, 'I feel fine if a bit warm'.  What came out was some sort of incoherent gibberish.  After that, I think I passed out, but I really don't remember.

The next thing I do recall was the acrid smell of burning hair, and a coolness on my knees.  I slowly opened my eyes.  I was sitting in a huge barber's chair with a clear cape covering me, yet I could see my undergarments!  What was going on?  I looked up and saw my reflection in a huge mirror.  There was a husky man standing behind me.  He had the most exquisite black pompadour, clearly a full wig.  He was holding a tiny pen with a cord attached.  He kept touching the top of my head with it.  Each time he did, I felt a slight tinge and smelled burning hair - my hair.  There was only stubble on the top, but the rest of my hair on the back and sides had been trimmed very short.  I tried to talk, but was unable to utter a word.  In front of the mirror was a shallow ledge.  There were two styrofoam wig heads with a very dark ginger toupee on each.  At first I tried to think who I'd like to see wearing them.  As my mind cleared more and more, I realized that those toupees were for me.  As this reality became clear, I saw Jake via the mirror walking toward me.  

"Oh, good.  I'm glad you are finally waking up, Chris.  You know, I love the cute boxer shorts you wore just for me.  Still, it's a waste of all that silk to cover that little dicklet of yours.  I bet you sit down to pee.  Still, it's good to know you have some traditional leanings in your choice of apparel."

"What's going on, Jake?" It sounded somewhat slurred.  I must have still been hung over from whatever was in that bitter coffee.

The husky barber continued to denude my scalp while Jake spoke.

"Chris, you are very intelligent.  I think you have figured it out.  I am flattered by your schoolboy crush.  I even found the story you wrote about me.  Now, don't look so startled.  I recognized myself in the story immediately, even if you did change my name.  You see, Chris, you were very chatty a few months ago during that extraction surgery.  Afterwards, with Antonio's professional skills, I decided to help you become the mature man you have longed to be.  I think you need to know what it's like to have everyone stare at your hair all the time."

As Jake finished talking, he took a step back.  Antonio took one of the toupees off the styrofoam head and applied four pieces of tape to the underside.  Two of the pieces of tape were curved.  They were placed at the front and back of the hairpiece.  On the sides were placed two straight strips.  Antonio quickly placed the toupee on my head.  The perimeter was rather stiff.  The tape immediately stuck to my scalp.  When Antonio had my new hair on my head, I felt the curved tape in back adhere just above my occipital bone. I knew then that I was forever going to be a Norwood Six male patterned bald man in a rug. I could feel the light mesh foundation of the center of the toupee against my smooth, sensitive bald head.  The toupee was thick and full with a fixed left-sided part.  The texture was smoother than my own hair.  The contrast between my flat brown hair and what had been taped to my head was stark to say the least.  Antonio began trimming my new, fake hair with scissors. He used a small handheld steamer in the front. Suddenly I could tell he was giving me the same up-sweep that Jake's toupee had. I realized that apart from the color, I had the same model toupee as Jake did. The laser wand Antonio had earlier used had killed the hair on the top of my head. It has also destroyed the hair at my temples. Without that, it was even more glaringly obvious what I had on my head. My little dicklet decided to do a happy dance. I was enjoying my new look without a thought about the day-to-day life experiences I would certainly encounter.

I was mesmerized, humiliated, vulnerable, and thrilled all the same time.  I was also a little upset.

"It's butterscotch," I blurted out.  "I hate butterscotch."

"I know Chris.  You told me after that surgery as the nitrogen oxide was wearing off.  You told many, many things.  You told me about your crush you have had for me, and you told me one other thing."

As Antonio finished styling my new hair, Jake walked up behind me, leaned down beside my ear, and whispered, "you have a great toupee, Chris, but it's still just a cheap toupee."

The End

[wakandas-vibranium]

Planet Earth 2023 || Part Five

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, slow burn, massage, cumming untouched if you squinty squint

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Again thank you to those who interact with this story! You are much appreciated. Please like, comment, and reblog!

part one

part two

part three

part four

part six

The following days breezed on by in a jubilant blur. In a week, there was a lot you could learn about aliens. It turns out they weren't too different from us earthlings. Grogu really liked bacon, but he preferred sausage, and Mando liked his eggs to be fried hard rather than scrambled. Mando and Grogu were quite the roommates to have. Since they arrived, there hasn't been a dull moment. Without even trying, they made your vacation much more enjoyable.

Mando loosened up a great deal once he realized that no other pirates had followed him and his son to Earth. While he never fully stopped wearing his beskar armor, he did favor the garments you offered him. He eventually admitted that when compared to his mandalorian garb, your apparel was less restrictive. It was, of course, compared to a full-sleeved bodystocking, thigh and shin guards, knee-pads, vambraces, shoulder pauldrons, and a helmet. Whew. You were astonished that he didn’t suffer from heatstroke at some point. It was impressive that he could run at high speeds and fight with such precision while wearing all that armor. 

You tried something new for dinner tonight, and let's just say Grogu isn't a big fan of asparagus. Mando, on the other hand, marveled on how well you paired the asparagus with the pot roast and mashed potatoes. The two of them could be like night and day sometimes. After dinner, it had become a habit for the three of you to linger at the dining room table to get to know each other better, or you would move to the living room to watch tv. You even devised a new sitting arrangement that allowed Mando to eat with the two of you without exposing his face. 

Spending time with Mando now that he was more relaxed failed to decrease your sexual desires. You craved him not just carnally but romantically, too. You were developing feelings for him at an alarmingly fast pace. Too quick for your liking, but what could you do? How do you avoid someone who lives with you? 

You couldn't tell if Mando had the same desires as you or if he was just being kind. 

Obviously he had sex. He was a father for fuck's sake. At least you thought he did. Even though Grogu didn't look like him in the slightest. Both were aliens, but different species. With all that Mandalorian clothing on, how did he even manage to have sex? You weren't one hundred percent sure, but you'd love to help him out of his tunic. You decided to give him a few more days to make a move before you just outright asked him to knock the sonic rings out of your pussy. Just a couple more days, you thought to yourself. 

The untimely darkening of your laptop screen pulled you back to the present. You and a handful of colleagues were brainstorming fresh and innovative methods to control prolonged bleeding caused by an unexpected trauma. You tapped a random key on your laptop, forcing it awake so you could check the time. 

1:08AM

Jeez. You'd been at it for nearly three and a half hours. Mando and Grogu went to bed around ten. You were restless for an unknown reason and figured you could conduct a little research until your eyes got low, but to no avail. You were on vacation yet you continued working. 

You scratched your head and leaned forward slightly, adding a few sluggish sentences to the word document before zoning out for a second time. You had no helpful thoughts about prolonged bleeding, so you were momentarily useless to your coworkers. The Mandalorian was all you could think about at the moment. The manner in which he walked as well as the gruffness of his baritone voice through the modulator, the adorable way he interacted with his son and drank his morning coffee, the way he looked in his beskar armor and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants—he was striking. Everything about him intrigued you. 

And as if he could hear your booming thoughts, Mando appeared around the corner and strolled into the living room where you were sitting. He was wearing blue gym shorts, a white t-shirt and his helmet of course.. 

He strolled over to the longer sofa, oblivious to your presence in the study. He moved to sit down, but not before he caught sight of the glow coming from your laptop screen. "Hi," his modulated voice murmured, "You're still up?" You nodded. 

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, finally slamming your laptop closed. Mando was much more engaging than the journal article on your fading laptop screen. After standing up, you crossed the entrance to the study into the living room and sat on the opposite side of the same couch he perched on, folding a leg under yourself before shifting your body to face him. 

“Yes,” he admitted, angling his body to face you as well, “This planet is hard to adjust to.” 

“How many planets have you been to?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, half shrugging, “I lost count after thirty.” 

“Thirty planets? Wow. That’s actually kind of fuckin’ awesome.” 

“I guess it is,” he huffed, it almost sounded like a small laugh. 

“So, why’d your ex come over like that the other night?” Mando asked, voice heavy with curiosity, but you also detected a smidge of disdain. 

“I’m still trying to piece that together,” you admitted, sighing deeply, “I thought he was done with me.” 

“Done with you?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, “Ben left me two weeks before our wedding day.” 

“Di'kut,” Mando scoffed, shaking his head in dislike, “Why would he do something stupid like that?” 

“He never told me,” you shrugged, unconsciously scooching closer to Mando. “That was the first time I spoke to him since he left me.” 

Now that you knew Ben's true colors, you were glad that he left you before things got too permanent. He was an egotistical coward, and you dodged a very big bullet. 

Good riddance.

He hummed, thinking of what to ask you next. He hesitated before asking, “Do you want him back?” 

"Hell no!" you exclaimed a little louder than necessary.

"I'm glad." Mando said warmly. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the smile in his voice. He was glad that you didn't want your ex back. What did that mean?

“What about you?” you asked as you leaned closer to him, “Got any crazy exes I should know about?” 

“No,” he replied, chuckling softly at your question and the silly face you made once he answered your question. “Why did you make that face?” 

“I’m finding it hard to believe that you aren’t taken.” 

“Well I’ve had a few situationships I guess, but nothing long term.” 

“Mmhmm,” you said, squinting at him, still not buying it. 

He laughed full on out this time, shaking his tin can fondly at you, “I really like you, Tulip. You’re so funny.” 

“I like you, too, Mando.” you said, joining him in a laughing fit. 

“Din.” The Mandalorian uttered between laughs. 

“What was that?” 

“My name,” he professed, “Is Din Djarin.” 

“Well, that’s a nice name, mesh’la,” you said honestly, flashing him a toothy grin. “It suits you well.” 

“Thanks.” he said gently, trying to hide his blush. 

You stretched out your tucked leg and shook it slightly. "My leg is trying to fall asleep." He gestured for you to put your leg across his lap, and you eagerly obliged.

You rested your leg in his lap, and he traced his fingers down your leg before slowing to knead at a particular spot where he found a knot. You had to use every ounce of willpower that you had to stop a moan from escaping past your lips.

“Fuck,” you cursed, letting out a high pitched groan as he kneaded his thumb over a particular tender spot just beneath your knee. His fingers flinched away from your skin as he tried to gauge whether you were in pain or not. He looked up at you, searching your face. 

“No, that felt good,” you said. With a nod of his head, he placed his fingers once more in the spot just below your knee. You moaned softly, "Please don't stop, Din."

"How does that feel?" He asked, his voice gentle and low through the modulator.

"It feels good." You exhaled softly. "You can go harder if you want," you added. 

He pulled your leg closer to him, bringing you and your knee closer to him for a better angle. You let out a small yelp and felt your face warm as you struggled to recover from the embarrassing sound that had just slipped past your lips. You felt wetness seep into your panties as your clit throbbed, achingly. 

Din positioned his hands deliberately this time, such that his thumbs were able to dig into the meat of your quadriceps right above the tender joint.

You let out an involuntary whimper as your eyelids fluttered shut. Fuck, if he didn't stop, you were going to cum. Just from him massaging your goddamn knee. He had to know what he was doing to you by now. There was no way he didn’t. 

“Harder,” you said. 

Din used both thumbs to dig two straight lines, one on each side of your thigh, pressing in deeper as he stroked them up and down slowly. 

“Fuuuck,” you whimpered again, louder this time, biting your lower lip before saying, “Just like that, Din.” 

Din let out a quiet gasp before kneading your lower thigh even harder, really digging in with all of his strength. Your nipples hardened under your tank top, your breaths got harsher and the tight coil in your stomach began to unravel. 

"It's really tight right here, cyar," Din grunted, squeezing the meat of your thigh and before you knew it, an orgasm ripped through your belly. You buried your teeth into your lower lip, almost drawing blood. Tears welled up in your eyes as you bit back a downright sinful moan. You couldn't remember the last time you came untouched. Probably never. 

Din noticed your thigh quivering, and before he could gauge your reaction, you leaned forward and coughed a few times into your hand. 

“Are you okay?” 

You nodded and uttered, “I’m g—good.” 

“Want me to do the other leg?” 

“Yes, ple—please.”

You brought your other leg into his lap and he massaged your knee and upper thigh. His hands were magical. He found every knot, even ones you didn’t know were there. He was perfect. Was there anything that he couldn’t do? Little did you know his massage was luring you right to sleep.

Your head dipped to the side, and you jerked yourself awake, blinking wildly. Din was still sitting there with your legs in his lap, caressing your lower thighs. 

You let out a long yawn and covered your mouth. Din yawned as well, indicating that he, too, was tired.

"All right," you said as you removed your legs from his lap and straightened up. "Time for us both to go to bed," you offered your hand for him to grab, and when he did, you hauled him to his feet.

"I just wanted to thank you again for allowing my son and I to lay low here with you for a while," Din remarked, squeezing the hand that had helped him up once before letting go. The massage was all the thanks you needed, you thought. 

"I should be thankin’ you," you murmured as you moved to close the door to your study before turning back to face him. "This is the most fun I've had in years." 

You both stood there in pleasant silence.  You were both exhausted, yet you didn't want to leave the other's presence. You thought you saw a bulge when you helped Din to his feet, but when you turned back around after closing the door to your study, it was gone. Just your imagination. You wanted to stay on the couch and talk some more, but after a mind-numbing orgasm and a splendid massage, you were struggling to keep your eyes open. 

You said to yourself, screw it, and closed the distance between the two of you, placing your arms around Din's shoulders and pulling him into a much-needed hug.

“What—um, what was that for?” Din whispered. 

“You just seemed long overdue for a hug is all,” you whispered back. 

“I honestly can’t remember the last time I had one.” Din revealed. His admission pulled on your heartstrings and you had to force yourself not to pull him in for another embrace and never let go. 

“Well, that stops now. I will hug you more often if that’s alright with you.” you said, smiling at him as you took a couple steps back, giving him some space. 

He peered at you and tilted his head before replying, “It is.”

“Great,” you giggled softly, “And you can hug me whenever you feel like it.” 

He hummed in amusement, “Whenever I feel like it, huh?” 

“Whenever.” You nodded.

Din took a hesitant step forward and held out his arms in an awkward angle. You closed the remaining space and wrapped your arms around him, tighter this time. You weren't sure how long you both stood there embracing each other, but it was the most enjoyable few minutes of your life. You both rocked side to side, oh so slowly, appreciating the warm embrace. He felt amazing in your arms.

You caught yourself drifting off on his chest and grudgingly pulled away from him, breaking the hug. 

He ran his hand down your arm and clutched your hand in his before you could turn away from him. You squeezed his hand and brought your other hand back up to his shoulder. “Thank you,” he repeated, more sincerely this time. 

“No need to thank me,” you whispered, smiling softly up at him as you rubbed your thumb across his bare shoulder, “Good night, Din.” 

“Good night, Tulip.” he breathed, letting go of your hand. 

It was obvious you both didn’t want to stop touching each other. You bit back a desperate groan due to the sultriness of his baritone voice. He had to know what he was doing to you. You dropped your hand and turned away, giving him a tiny wave before sauntering off to your bedroom alone, even though you didn't want to.

[mchlgayser]

featuring: nagi seishiro x gn!reader

summary: unaffectionate!nagi feeling anxious of losing you to another person after his friend, Reo scared him.

contents warning: none

nana's lil notes: this is rushed, i tried my best. might have forgotten a few important details but yall can simply shrug it off

YOU WOKE UP FROM YOUR nap realizing that it's almost past six, you got up from the bleachers looking around the auditorium for your teammates and manager "Y/n!" You heard a familiar voice calling out as you briefly turns around seeing your manager, Haru.

"Here's something you can eat, a bread and some milk." He sat down letting a heavy sigh "Where's your equipment" He glance around looking for your badminton racket case, your shoes, trackers and your apparels "I handed it to (Friend Name) earlier." He hummed "Alright, it's almost time for your practice before the semi final, do your best!" You smile at him and left after throwing away the food wraps

On your way to the court, you passed by the football pitch seeing the Japan u20's practicing, you sees your friend, Reo but his other friend is nowhere in sight, you try to look around for him but your manager ushered your to hurry up and you did.

-

The practice ended like usual as you were now on the cafeteria sitting with your friends having supper, you had a bottle of protein shake and fruit salads while your friends had burgers and soft carbonated drinks "Isn't that Nagi?" You swiftly turn your head to the direction they pointed at and you saw your boyfriend along with Reo, Isagi and Bachira sitting at a table a few metres away from you, they were chatting about something and you stood up "Hey who's that burger for?" one of your friend glance and hum "That's mine, It won't be enough with just one burger y'know.."

In a quick second, you took away the burger from his grip and smile "I'll have this then, pay you later!" They were screaming at you to get back but you ignored them and walked towards Nagi's table

"Hey..." You murmured at them, Reo had his face pale white "Oh Y/n, what're you doing here?" He was glancing at Nagi from time to time but the former ignored him by playing with his bottle "Do you...Perhaps heard what we discussed about just now...?" You grinned "No, of course not, I'm just passing by to give you this." You handed your boyfriend the burger and he thanked you "How's your practice?" You nodded at him "Good...Oh anyway I heard from your coach you guys are done for the day right? Then Nagi why don't we go home together?" He stare up at you and then back down "...Yeah, sure...." You smile and silently cheering "Alright, I better get going, see you guys later!" And you left the table shoving your friend some money and chuckle "Thanks for the burger." They was glaring at you munching on the burger aggressively

-

You was waiting inside the car for your boyfriend and the door flung open "Hey!" He hummed slumping against the seat and sighed "Was today's practice tiring for you?"

"Other day's practice is also tiring for me." You giggle starting the car and smile "Well alright then, was the burger enough for you? Do you want to drop elsewhere before we got home?" He had his eyes close still and hum again "Yes and no. Just straight home please." You look at him and then back on the road "Well okay then but can I drop somewhere real quick, I need to get my package" He nodded getting comfortable at the side to take a short nap and the car halt "Wait." You got out and stood a person with a super bike behind them and helmet shielding their head

-

Nagi watch as you approached the person, you had a smile plastered on your face as the person handed you a parcel "Was this a special delivery service? Is Y/n a frequent customer? How come I didn't know?" And suddenly flashback from this evening ran past his head

"I think you have an attitude problem." Nagi stare at his friend for a brief second and huff "What are you talking about?" Reo sigh "I'm talking about you and Y/n. How could you be so cold to them...? They're a nice person" Nagi looks away murmuring incoherent words "What if they fall for someone else and break things off with you? Be good to them or you'll regret it later."

At that time, Nagi didn't really think so much about that but now seeing you with another person, smiling so gently he started to get anxious.

-

Twisting on the doorknob, the door opened and you let yourself it along with Nagi following behind "You can go and bathe first, I wanna make a call with my mana-" You were cut when Nagi had his arms around your waist from behind, he was hiding his face on the crook of your neck "N-Nagi...Are you okay....?" He hum placing a chaste kiss over your neck, you whined and turn him around "What's the matter with you?" You asked out of panic

Nagi flinched, he actually thought by now you are disgusted with his kiss but in reality you are just too flustered. It was so sudden that he kissed your neck out of nowhere as you always knew your boyfriend as the person to not like psychical touch, he backed away with his head hung low and slowly walked upstairs but you held his hand down "Wait...! I'm sorry I didn't meant to say that! I swear, I was just too stunned." He turned to look at you "So you are not disgusted by my kiss?" You shake your head left and right multiple times "Never!"

He throw himself over you and you stumbled backwards "I'm gonna keep you forever and never letting any person to take you away from me..." He whispered over your ear, you blushed and hid your face away "Like I'm ever gonna leave you."

[ndostairlyrium]

🔞 for Kerry because I desperately need to know what that man considers sexy attire

Lmao thanks for asking!! 💛 I didn't know either until I looked up "slutty man shirts" on pinterest and found out that me and the internet have very different opinions when it comes to sexy attire 😂😂😂

Actually I was very torn between doing something legit serious or fun so I went for both options (thanks @greypetrel for reminding me that both. both. both. both is good)

🔞 OC in something sexy

He's a farmboy, of course he doesn't need much else << I think the outfit came with a hat but somehow he managed to lose it - or maybe is an excuse for having someone to give it back?? 👀

Also the pride month official apparel because nothing screams gay more than a pair of crocs worn in the correct manner

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 10

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings:  angst, profanity, some brief smut

Tagging:  @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @residentdormouse @asirensrage @munstysmind @muchadoaboutcj @starryeyes2000​ @ninjasawakenedmystar​ @karimac @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @themaradaniels​

My tag list is OPEN. Just give me a shout if you’d like to added :)

Link to Ao3: ​https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/118354309

*******

He answers the door in just a pair of jeans; worn dangerously low on his hips with both his belt and top button still undone. Droplets of water glistening upon bare, tanned skin as he continues to vigorously towel dry his hair. And for what seems like an eternity she’s dumbstruck; rendered speechless as she hungrily eyes the work of art that stands before her. It’s a reaction that’s both unexpected and embarrassing; never anticipating his lack of apparel or the way her body, heart, and mind respond to it. After all, she’d seen him wearing far less many times; nearly a year spent sharing the same bed and feeding and nurturing every one of their carnal needs and desires. But it feels as if it’s the first time seeing him this way; as if Dhaka and those five days had never existed nor had they ever shared a life together. He’s noticeably thicker now; a mixture of more time spent in the gym, a physically gruelling profession, and the extra weight that’s taken up residence around his waist. He’s aged like a fine wine. In possession of a body and mind that have not only been stretched to their absolute limits, but somehow managed to come back better than ever.

She feels the ferocious blush that creeps into her cheeks; poker hot and rapidly spreading to the bottom of her chin and the tips of her ears. And she can’t help herself; top teeth dragging over her bottom lip as her eyes make a long, slow pass over the length of his half-naked frame. Her stomach clenches and her throat feels impossibly dry; accompanied by the pounding of her heart and the almost agonizing burn between her legs. It’s shocking; another human being having that kind of power and control. Able to turn you into a desperate, needy mess without having to put any effort into it. And it’s always been that way with Tyler; a shared physical and sexual attraction that is so immediate and intense and all-consuming.. The first lover who’d ever had that kind of effect on her; capable of turning her into a quivering and begging mess with nothing more than the sound of his voice and a heated, hungry glance.

Yet he’d always been oblivious about the kind of power he actually held; never any boasting or the slightest hint of conceit even if he DID realize what the simplest of touches or the sweetest, most innocent of kisses could do to her. A phenomenally attractive man that didn’t seem to realize it; never one to fret over his general appearance or his wardrobe. Down to earth and shockingly humble; seemingly unaware of his piercing blue eyes and his strong jaw and the way those longer strands of hair perfectly fell across his forehead. Confident in his looks, yet never cocky; not caring what other people thought of his apparel or the tattoos that decorated his skin but sometimes lamenting about the variety of scars that he’d collected over the years.

There’s a telltale throbbing between her legs and beads of sweat that gather at her temples and the nape of her neck. It’s been so long since she’d been this close to him; able to see the droplets of water on his skin and smell the body wash and shampoo that he had used. And then there are the scars he’s gained over the course of five years; souvenirs of a dangerous and unpredictable life. A mixture of long and jagged lines caused by self-administered care and smooth, circular marks left behind by bullet wounds.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” She noisily clears her throat and quickly glances away; hoping and praying he doesn’t pick up on her discomfort. “...I wasn’t expecting…this…you…like this….I…”

A tinge of pink takes up residence in his cheeks. She remains the only person on earth that can get that kind of reaction out of him; able to transform the big, bad mercenary into a blushing, awkward mess. And it’s always been so refreshing; knowing the pain and havoc he’s capable of causing yet bearing witness to that softer and more human side. “I wasn’t expecting you for another half an hour.”

“I didn’t think I was THAT early. Millie settled quicker than I thought she would, so I thought I’d just show up. I didn’t think I’d be interrupting anything.” Her embarrassment increases and she bites down on her bottom lip in an attempt to halt the nervous rambling. “ I’m not, am I? Interrupting anything?”

“What would you be interrupting?”

“Well…I mean… you could have company. New York City is a big place. You’re a good-looking guy and there’s tons of beautiful and available women out there. Maybe you found one. You could have been busy doing things when I showed up. You know, things that you need to take a shower after. Oh God…” She lowers her voice and peers past him into the room. “That’s not it, is it? I didn’t interrupt you and…whoever.”

“There’s no one here but me. I’m not in town for that kind of thing. Besides, I’ve learned my lesson; when it comes to mixing business with pleasure.”

She visibly winces. “I guess I deserved that. “

“I didn’t mean it that way. I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about…”

“I can come back. If you need some time to get yourself together. I shouldn’t have shown up early. I’m sorry; I should have texted or…”

The thought of watching her walk away -albeit temporarily- sets something off inside of him, and he steps into the doorway; his much larger, stronger frame effectively barring her from leaving. “You don’t have to go. Just give me a few; so I can dry off and put some clothes on.”

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable doing all that without me here? I can just go downstairs and get something to drink. Or I can just wait in the hall and you can just let me know when it’s okay to come in. I AM early and you don’t really owe me an explanation or…”

“Don’t go.”

“If you need a little time to get yourself together…”

“Don’t go,” he forcibly repeats, then manages a small smile while adding, “Please.”

“Are you sure? Because if you’re just saying that because you don’t want to hurt my feelings…”

“I WANT you to stay. There’s no reason for you to leave. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

She manages a small smile. “I hate this. So much. This….awkwardness. It was never like this. Between us. And it sucks. I hate it and I hate that I’m the reason things are the way they are.”

“A lot’s happened. I’d be surprised if things weren’t a little weird.”

“I never wanted any of this. I never meant to ruin things. To hurt you. I never…”

Draping the towel around his neck, he reaches out; laying a hand on the small of her back and gently pulling her closer. “Let’s just go inside. We can talk in there. We don’t need to stand out there and get into it. Not everyone needs to know our business.”

Nodding in agreement, she allows herself to be escorted into the open-concept suite; immediately missing the warmth and weight of his hand upon her body when he steps away. It’s so damn hard; to be desperately in love with someone who most likely despises you. Possessing such powerful and overwhelming feelings yet knowing you most likely ruined any chance of reconciliation; keeping Millie’s existence a secret was surely the final in the coffin. She had wounded him deeply. He had trusted her with every ounce of his being and transformed his entire life in order for them to have a future together and she’d turned around and betrayed him in the worst possible way. Seeing the undeniable hurt and anger and disgust on his face the moment Millie had left the room. He had known the moment he laid eyes on her that the little girl was his; sharing the same vivid blue eyes and the colour and texture of hair and the long and lanky frame. Despite his fears of being a dad again, he’d been more than willing to welcome a child into the world; determined to do everything right the second time around. And he’d been robbed of the chance.

She noisily clears her throat and diverts her eyes as he rummages through his lone piece of luggage for a clean shirt; the simple movements causing the muscles in his arms and back to bulge and ripple. And she wanders towards the table by the balcony door; focusing her attention on the open laptop, a half empty glass of water, and a bottle of prescription medication. Chewing pensively on her bottom lip, she picks up the latter and briefly inspects the information on the label; relieved to discover they aren’t painkillers, nor is there any form of alcohol in sight.

“Antibiotics.” His voice makes her jump as he suddenly appears beside her; plucking the meds out of her hand and tossing them in the direction of the rucksack that sits open in the middle of the bed. “Caught a hell of a cold on the last job. Settled in my chest. Just finally getting over it.”

“We used to worry about that. Every time you got sick, it always went right to your lungs. And with your left one being the way it is…”

“I figure if a sixteen-year-old with a hell of a lucky shot can’t kill me, a chest infection sure as hell won’t.”

“What about other things? Have you been taking anything else or…?”

“You mean am I back to being a pill junkie again? That’s what you’re asking, yeah? That’s what you want to know? If I’m back on the oxy? Or worse?”

“I never…”

“I’m clean. Other than over-the-counter pain shit. I’ve been clean for almost five years now. Since Dhaka.”

“Tyler, I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t break me that badly, Esme. Not enough to make me go back to that. To being ‘that guy’. Not even you have that kind of power.” It’s a lie of course; he’d come close many times to turning back to the booze and the pain meds in order to numb both physical and mental agony. But he’d somehow managed to stay clean and vowed to stay that way. Convincing himself that as long as there was a chance that she may wander back into his life, she deserved someone who was on the right track. Not a carbon copy of the mess he’d been when they first met.

“I didn’t come here for this. To fight with you. And I wasn’t suggesting that you were using. In the same way I wasn’t accusing you of anything or….”

Leaning back against the table, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Who’s with Millie?”

“Abeula and Nik. And there’s a couple of guys that stay on the floor and split up guard duty. She’s in good hands. She’s safe.”

Scoffing, he reaches behind him for the glass of water; lips poised at the rim. “Forgive me if I don’t have a lot of confidence in Nik right now.”

“She only did what I asked her to do. I asked her not to tell you where I was. Or why I left. I figured I’d get a chance to do all of that myself. But things were way more complicated and messy and dangerous than even I expected them to be. And then weeks turned into months into…”

“Five years. Five…fucking…years.”

“I never meant for it to get to this. For things to last as long as they did. And there’s really no excuse; I had a lot of chances to make things right. There were a lot of times I could have contacted you. Where I could have called and explained why I did what I did. Where I could have even come to see you. Talked face to face. Brought Millie to meet you and…”

“But you didn’t. All the chances but you never bothered. You couldn’t even let me know that you were alive. That would have been enough; knowing that you were okay. Even if you hadn’t wanted to come home. Work things out. I would have been able to deal with that. But you couldn’t even pick up a fucking phone and let me know you were alright.”

“It wasn’t that easy. Not at first. It wasn’t as simple as texting or leaving you a voicemail. Things were ugly for a long time and I couldn’t take the chance that you’d get hurt. Or worse. I didn’t want that on your doorstep. I didn’t want to bring that to you. You deserved better than that.”

“I deserved better than what you did. You just left. While I was gone. You didn’t even wait until I got back from Broome. I got home and you were gone. No explanation, no apology, no telling me that I’d fucked up and…”

“It wasn’t you. You didn’t ‘fuck up’. It had nothing to do with you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I got home and you were gone and I thought something happened to you. That someone had gotten a hold of you. You didn’t stop to think about that? That that’s what I’d think?”

“I thought when you saw the note…”

“That was a note? That was fucking bullshit is what it was. “I’m sorry”? What the fuck was that?”

“I didn’t know what else to say.” It sounds lame. Eve to her own ears. “ I couldn’t tell you; the reason that I left. I didn’t want you getting involved.”

“We bought a house together. We were talking about getting married. About starting a family. I was already pretty fucking involved, don’t you think?”

“It wasn’t your fight to fight, Tyler.”

“That’s horseshit and you know it. We made a life together, Esme. We were planning a future. It was up to me to protect you. To take care of you.”

“It wasn’t a one-way street. Our life together. I protected you and took care of you just as much as you did me. It wasn’t all you, Tyler. It wasn’t just you putting the work in. I stayed in Australia. I gave up my old life so I could have one with you. It wasn’t just you that made sacrifices and changed. We BOTH did.”

“Which means that whatever was going on? It was up to both of us to fix it. To fight to make things work.”

“I did what I did to protect you. I knew that if I stayed and they came for me, you would have done whatever you could to protect me. To keep me safe. That you would have back and…”

“You’re right. I would have done anything. For you. Just like I did in Dhaka. Everything we’d been through. Esme. From the very beginning. And you still couldn’t trust me? To keep you safe?”

“It had nothing to do with trusting you,” she argues. “I have ALWAYS trusted you. Which is why you’re even in New York City. I have never once doubted you. Or the things you could do. I know how strong you are. I know the skills you have. But it had only been eight months since Dhaka and you still weren’t a hundred percent and I couldn’t put you at risk. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want you getting hurt. Or worse.”

“Who the fuck was after you? The Russian Mob? The IRA? There’s not a lot of people I can’t handle. If I could somehow survive Mahajan and Asif and their bullshit…”

“You wouldn’t have survived this. Not these people. You wouldn’t have stood a chance. They were vast and they were powerful and they would have brought all kinds of hell down on us. On YOU. And I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t put a target on your back. Not when it came to them. I’m sorry, Tyler. But I did what I had to do. To keep you safe.”

“And it took five years? For things to settle down? Or did you just decide after a little while that I’d never been worth anything to you in the first place. I never meant a thing, did I. Not really. If I had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. We would have had it a long time ago.”

“None of that is true. You meant everything to me. Our life together? That meant everything. I didn’t do what I did to hurt you. Or to punish you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did it to protect you. To keep you safe. And I’m sorry; that I let it get this out of hand. That I never contacted you when things settled down. I wanted to, believe me. I wanted things to go back to normal. I wanted nothing more than to be with you. And I…”

“But you never did. You never did get a hold of me. Not even when you had a baby. MY baby. She is, yeah? Mine?” He regrets that years of simmering hurt and anger have led to even asking the question; the hurt that stiffens her body and darkens her face and brings tears to her eyes. It’s the last thing he wanted even in the midst of his own suffering. But it’s always been his weakness; hot-headed from an extremely early age and never able to stop himself from lashing out. And hurting those that he loved the most.

“You really have to ask that? You’ve seen her. She looks just like you.”

“How do I know you weren’t fucking some other Aussie that happened to look like me? Taking off might not have been the only thing you were doing that weekend.”

“You know what? I’m just going to leave things here. For now. Because obviously, you’re not in the mood to listen to a thing I have to say. And I get it; you’re hurt and you’re angry and you’re lashing out. You’ve always been like this. You get defensive and you snap and you say things you don’t really mean.”

“I have every right to be pissed. And hurt. I think I earned it. Deserve it.”

“You do. And I’m not trying to downplay how you feel. I’m owning my shit; acknowledging what I did and feeling horrible for it. But you’re not even attempting to listen to me, let alone understand. And for you to stoop that low and bring Millie into this…”

“I’m not bringing her into this. You brought her into it. How would you feel? If you found out you had a kid? That’s been kept from you? You wouldn’t be upset?”

“Of course, I would. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t be angry. I never meant for things to go on this long. But I have my reasons.”

He gives a derisive snort. “Excuses, you mean.”

“No. Legit reasons. That you won’t even listen to right now. And I get it; you’ve had a hell of a day and this is all still really fresh. But you had no right asking if she was yours. There is no reason you can deny her. Not one that isn’t fuelled by spite, at least. She IS yours. And there was never anyone else. There was only you. I never wanted anyone but you. And for you to even suggest that I fucked around on you…”

“You were quick to fuck me in Dhaka. How do I know you didn’t find someone else that brought that out of you?”

“I’m not even going to entertain that question. You know that I would never do that. Cheat on you. Not after everything I went through with Mark. Not after swearing I would never trust someone again. That I’d never let anyone get that close. And what happened? I met you and all of that changed. I didn’t want anyone else. And I certainly didn’t NEED anyone else.”

“I want to believe you.”

“Are you forgetting the simple fact we lived in the middle of bum fuck nowhere? In a fucking shack we shared with a dog and a chicken?! How the hell would I even meet someone? We couldn’t have anything delivered. The closest place to order food from was two hours away, we had to go into Broome just to pick up Amazon packages. Who I was going to fuck, Tyler?”

He shrugs. “Could have met someone online.”

“I can’t believe you’re even doubling down on this. To be so bold while knowing you’re so wrong. There was never anyone but you. And that is our daughter. YOUR daughter. You can say what you want about me, but she’s totally innocent. And she’s smart and she’s beautiful and she’s everything that was perfect about us. Don’t do that to her. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“She didn’t deserve to not have two parents either.”

“Alright…” Esme holds her hands up in surrender. “...this is going nowhere. You’re just interested in hurting me. I get it. And you know, I deserve it. I could have handled things better. Especially when the smoke cleared and the dust settled. But you could at least hear me out. And seeing as you’re not in the right place to listen and understand, I’m not going to push it. It’s all really fresh and it’s a lot to deal with and I’m going to leave it to you. Maybe once you sleep on things, we can actually sit and talk. Like rational human beings.”

She attempts to leave; arms crossed over her chest and she steps past him and heads for the door. At first he simply watches; observing the slumped, defeated shoulders and the way tucks her chin into her chest. Silently berating himself for stooping so low; for lashing out and hurting her and going against the promise he’d made to himself to stay calm and rational. It isn’t until she’s near the exit that he finally follows; crossing the room with long, purposeful strides and then standing behind her. And places his palm flat against the door just as she opens it; keeping it firmly shut, his front pressed against her back.

That simple body-to-body contact makes her noticeably shiver. Every hair standing on end and every nerve seeming as if it’s on fire. It’s been five years and it’s all still there. The love and the adoration and the often overwhelming, blinding want and need.

“Don’t go.”

“This isn’t the time for this,” she meekly protests. “It’s all still too fresh. You need time. Alone. To come to terms with everything. I know I’ve dumped a lot in your lap. Hiring you for this job and bringing you all the way here and then finding out about Millie and…”

“I don’t want you to leave. Not again.”

“Just let me go, Tyler. It’s better for both of us. If I stay, it’ll only make things worse. You need some time to…”

“I can’t let you walk away. I wasn’t there to stop you the first time. But I can stop you now.”

She turns to face him, back pressed against the door. “Do you really think it’s a good idea? Me sticking around? Because we’re just going to end up fighting. It’s all just so raw. You’ve had a hell of a day and I have really just thrown you to the wolves. If we’re just going to end up fighting….”

“I don’t want to fight. That’s the last thing I want.”

“You’re upset. And you have every right to be. But when you’re angry, you lash out. And when you lash out, I get defensive. All that’s going to do is cause more problems. It’ll be two steps forward, a hundred steps back. And I don’t want that.”

“You came here to talk. Let’s talk. No more lashing out. No fighting. Just talk.”

“I just want you to hear me out. I just want you to listen to what I have to say. I know I hurt you, Tyler. I know I could have handled things better; I made some really bad choices and some pretty shitty mistakes. And you really do have every right to be angry. To hate me. But…”

“I don’t hate you, Esme. I could never hate you.” There’s so much more he longs to say. I still love you, I never got over you. I’ve missed you.

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you. I needed you to say that. And I really needed to hear it.”

“Can we? Talk? I’d rather do it sooner than later. I don’t want to get into the job and have all this hanging over our heads.”

“I don’t want that either. I don’t want things to be awkward between us. We’ve never had that problem. Not even in Dhaka. And I hate that I fucked it all up. That I made things so awful between us. I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Or for things to drag on like this. Will you just hear me out? Please?”

He nods. Aching to do so much more. Starting with running his knuckles along her bruised and battered cheeks and tucking loose tendrils of hair behind her ears. But instead, it's her that reaches for him; trailing a fingernail along the scar that resides on the underside of his chin.

“You added a new one. To your collection.”

“I’ve earned a few. Since the last time you saw me.”

“You look good, though. Healthy. Life hasn’t been too hard on you.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he admits. “Especially the first year. After…”

“I kept an eye on you. Not literally, of course. But I asked about you. A lot. Nik kept me updated. So I’d know how you were doing. I heard how you quit for a bit. Took some time off. You must have needed it. A chance to get away from it all.”

“It was supposed to be a full-time thing. Being retired. Trouble always seems to find me, though. I always seem to get dragged back in.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad? That you did? Because you wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to hire you.”

“I don’t want your money, Esme. I don’t need your money. That’s not why I agreed to this. As soon as I saw you, I knew I was going to take it. And then I met Millie…”

“There’s no one I trust. Not in the way I trust you. That’s why I had Nik contact you. About the job. Because I knew I could trust you with the most precious thing in my life. I knew you could keep Millie safe. That you’d do anything for her.”

“I’d do anything for her mumma, too.”

“Even now? After all this time?”

“Even now,” he confirms.

Her palm cradles the side of his face; eyes locked on his as she runs the pad of her thumb across his lips. And he meets no resistance when he rests on the small of her back; escorting her back into the living room, and gesturing for her to take a seat on the couch.

“Want something to drink? I’ve only got bottled water. Or I could order something from room service. A tea or…?”

“Water is fine. Thank you.”

She watches as he journeys to the small wet bar in the corner of the room; noticing that the limp in his right leg is more noticeable than when they’d been together. And that his thighs and his calves are much thicker; denim tight against bulging muscle and the extra weight he now carries. At least thirty pounds heavier than when they’d first met and started their life together; shoulders and back and chest broader, arms bulkier, his face fuller. And she smiles as he returns, twisting off the caps on two bottles of water before holding one out in offering. She graciously accepts; enjoying the small and innocent moment of physical contact when he drops down beside her; close enough that his thigh presses against hers.

“You’ve been sober too? All this time?”

Nodding, Tyler takes a sip of his drink. “Not for lack of wanting to, that’s for sure.”

“That’s quite the feat. Staying on the right track. I’m proud of you.”

“I only have you to thank for it. Every time I wanted to drink or I wanted to swallow some oxy, I’d think about how disappointed you’d be; when you came back and found out I was a complete fucking mess again. And even when I finally did yank my head out of my ass and realized you weren’t coming home, I held onto it. What you’d think if you knew I was back on my bullshit.”

“Tyler…I….”

“It kept me from doing some damage. If I’d gone back to what I was like before you, I wouldn’t be here right now. So maybe that’s the bright side. Of you leaving. Holding out hope kept me on this side of the ground.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad that you are. And I’m glad that you’re doing so well. That life hasn’t been too rough on you. You deserve better than that. In the same way you deserve so much better than what I did to you. And I know you say you don’t hate me and that…”

“I don’t. I don’t hate you. I never could. How do you hate someone that you love this much? No way you ever could. No matter what they do to you.” Silence follows his confession. And she nervously nurses her water as he absentmindedly picks at the label on his bottle. The last thing she wants is to push him; knowing how hard it must be for him -in the midst of his lingering pain and anger- to be so raw and vulnerable.

*****

“Millie couldn’t stop talking about you,” Esme breaks the silence; opting for a topic of conversation less likely to trigger the lingering rage and hurt. “Or about your upcoming ice cream. Just went on and on and on; all through dinner, during her bath. Right up until she fell asleep.”

A smile plays on his lips. “What did she say?”

“What didn’t she say is probably the better question. She’s totally intrigued by you. She talked about how you’re tall like a giant and you’ve got big muscles and cool tattoos and scars and really ‘bitchin’ hair’.”

“She actually said that? Bitchin’?”

“That was an exact quote. I think she’s been spending too much time eavesdropping on teenage conversations while at the sitter’s. And she really loves your accent. Said she can’t wait to learn more ‘funny words’.”

“I promise I won’t teach her any of the really bad ones. I won’t have her calling anyone a ‘cunt’ before she turns five. Not even in an affectionate way.”

“I remember how shocked I was. When I first moved there and heard people just dropping that word left and right. Talk about culture shock! Call someone that here and you’re getting punched in the face. Over there you use it as a term of endearment.”

“You did alright though. Settled in nicely. Didn’t take too long for you to get used to things. Couple weeks in and you were already saying shit like Maccas, drongo, sanger.”

“Well, I guess it’s because I felt comfortable there. Like I was finally home. And I had a really good teacher, so…”

Another prolonged silence. Both hate the awkwardness that now exists between them. It’s foreign. Uncomfortable. Even during those initial moments after their first meeting things ever seem so strained.

“When is…” He begins.

“I just want to…” Esme blushes. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Ladies first.”

“Age before beauty,” she teases. “Besides, I think your right to answers trumps anything I have to say.”

“I was just going to ask when she was born. When her birthday is.”

“October. The seventeenth. Pretty close to your mom’s.”

“Just a few days separating them.”

“Millie was actually three weeks late. I guess she got a little too comfortable in there and decided she was going to set up camp. Permanently. I had to be induced. And even then she was reluctant when it came to being evicted. Took her thirty-six hours. Before she finally came kicking and screaming into the world.”

“Thirty six hours?”

“Well, close. VERY close. I tell you, she was stubborn right from the start.” She leans into him; playfully nudging his arm with her elbow. “Gets that from her dad.”

“I don’t know about that. You’re a hell of a lot more stubborn than I am.”

“Please! You’re the king of stubborn people! You are…hands down…the most pig-headed man…no….PERSON… I have ever met. Remember all those times the doctor told you to take it easy? When all his advice just went in one ear and out the other because, and I quote, ‘I know my body better than he does’?”

“Well, I do. I’ve only lived in for what? Almost forty years now.”

“And what good came out of pushing yourself? You were always run down, always getting sick because of it. Complications with your knee and your lung. But you never listened. Not to the doctor, not to me. You’ve always done your own thing. Regardless of who tried to talk you out of it. Remember what you used to get like? When I nag you? About taking care of yourself? You’d get all grumpy and pouty and defiant and…”

“Excuse you? Pouty? I do NOT pout.”

“You do. And it’s adorable. It’s one of the things that I used to love the most about you. The fact you can be so tough and strong and badass but so…human…at the same time. It was sexy. All those different sides of you. The ones that only I got to see.”

“You always had a way of bringing those out. All those things I thought were long dead inside of me. You always knew how to get to me. Right from the start.”

“Only because you trusted me. Because you let me see those sides of you. Even if some of those sides did drive me a little batty sometimes.”

“I drove you batty? If we’re going to talk about being pig-headed, I’m tossing you under the bus too. Remember Dhaka? Telling you to stick close to me? And what did you….?”

“I thought you were overreacting. I didn’t see a reason to have to be glued to your hip.”

“I was there to protect you. If anything had happened to you, it would have been my ass.”

“I was still in my rebellious ‘I listen to no man’ stage. I wasn’t letting you boss me around. I didn’t care how much bigger you were, you were NOT going to tell me what to do. But I learned my lesson, that’s for sure. When you tried to choke me out. Back at the hotel.”

“That is not what I was trying to do.”

“I know. You were trying to scare me off. Because you were having the ‘feels’. You liked me. You thought I was cute. You wanted to kiss me. You wanted to kiss me so bad it made you look stupid.”

“I didn’t just want to kiss you. That’s for sure.”

“You made that very clear. When you tried to put me through the wall. I have to admit, on my list of ‘first times with a new partner’, you’re at the very top. Hell, you have your own chapter.”

A blush creeps into his cheeks, slowly spreading to the tips of his ears. And when they both fall quiet, he returns to picking at the label on the water bottle as she lightly drums her fingernails against hers.

“She was born on a Tuesday,” Esme breaks the silence. “Millie. It was a beautiful fall day. It was bright and sunny; the sky was the most amazing colour of blue. And the trees…” She gives a wistful smile of remembrance. “...they’d just started turning; orange and red and gold. I was always a huge autumn in New York girl.”

“I remember how we used to talk about it. Visiting in the fall. You always used to bring up buying one of those townhouses. If we ever came into big money.”

“A brownstone. Gramercy Park. You’d love it there. It’s quaint and it’s quiet and it seems a million miles away from all the hustle and bustle. Maybe one day…” Her voice trails off.

“Tell me more,” Tyler encourages. “About Millie. Please.”

“She weighed eight pounds, eight ounces. She was the sweetest little chunk. The chubbiest cheeks I’ve ever seen. Like a little chipmunk, hoarding for the winter. And she was twenty-two inches long. All limbs. Like her dad.”

He smiles.

“She was so beautiful. She had this headful of blond hair and those gorgeous blue eyes and the longest lashes I’ve ever seen. I remember the nurse carrying her over and going on and on about how she must look like her daddy. Because she sure didn’t have any of her mom’s DNA.” Her voice cracks with emotion. “And Millie just snuggled right into me and she looked up at me with those eyes and I just…fell in love. Same way I fell in love with her dad the first time he looked at me.”

“Esme…”

“I had wanted to be a mom for so long. And then I lost the baby with Mark and my marriage became a total nightmare and everything just fell apart. I swore I’d never trust someone again. I told myself I’d never let anyone get that close to me. And if that meant I never got to have a baby, that’s the price I was willing to pay. Then you came along and you turned my world upside down and everything changed. For the better.”

“It was a hell of a way to kick things off. Everything that happened in Dhaka. Sometimes I wonder if it worked against us; it gave us some false sense of security. We figured we’d already been through the worst of it. What could possibly go wrong. Maybe we just got too comfortable.”

“I know you don’t really believe that. We were so good together, Tyler. Nothing that felt that right could ever be wrong. We just didn’t get the chance. To build on things. And we deserved better. So much better.”

“And Millie? Did you know? When you left? That you were having her?”

“No. I didn’t find out about her until after I arrived in New York. Three weeks later.”

“Why didn’t you call me? Or text me? I would have dropped everything to be with you. I would have gotten the first flight out and…”

“That’s why I didn’t contact you. Because I knew that you’d come here. I couldn’t risk that. I left Australia to protect you. And if you’d just shown up here…”

“I had a right to know. That you were pregnant. You didn’t make that baby by yourself. I deserved to know about her.”

“I wanted to tell you. As soon as I found out. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than for you to be there. Through the whole thing. It’s all I ever thought about; how different things would be if you were around. I didn’t want to be going through all that alone. Doctors appointments and ultrasounds and buying little clothes and picking names and decorating a bedroom. I WANTED you to be there. I didn’t want to be going through all that by myself.”

“You didn’t have to. You could have just called me. We could have found a way, Esme. To make things work. Whatever was going on? Whoever was after you? We would have dealt with it. Together. You didn’t have to do it alone. And you goddamn well know that.”

“I couldn’t put you at risk. I just couldn’t. If I kept you safe, it meant that you’d still be able to meet Millie. Further down the road. If I brought you into everything and something happened to you, she would never have gotten a chance to know her daddy. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I did it for BOTH of you.”

“I want to understand this. I really do. I don’t want to be this angry. Not at you. But it’s hard. It is so fucking hard. You’re the one person that I trusted. With every messy, broken fucking piece of myself. You’re the one person who knew how fucked up I was and didn’t look at me like I was some piece of shit. You knew about Austin. You knew what I did. When he was sick. You knew about all of that guilt and regret and the hate I had for myself. That I still do.”

“You were never broken. A little bent, maybe. You had a lot of dents and scratches, but you were NOT broken. I never thought of you that way. I still don’t. I didn’t keep Millie from you to hurt you.”

“We talked about having kids. You knew that I was willing to give you what you wanted. A family. Even though the idea of being a dad again scared the shit out of me. I was ready for that. To have another kid and do things right. And you never even gave me the fucking chance.”

“It wasn’t about you. Not in the way you’re thinking it was. You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t something you did or something you said that made me leave. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay. I wanted a life with you. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you. I left because I did.”

He places his elbows on his knees; sighing heavily as he runs his hands through his hair and over his face.

“I know you’re hurt. And I’m not trying to take that from you. Because you deserve to feel whatever it is you’re feeling. But I just want you to try and understand. Please. Can you just try? Just hear me out?”

Tyler nods.

“When you were gone with Koen, an adjudicator with the High Table showed up. There were new powers in charge, and one of the first things they decided to do was review old files. Investigate people that had been ex-communicated; find out what they did wrong and punish them if they saw fit. My name was on the list and my file was one of those that got re-opened.”

“The High Table? That is some serious underground shit. What…?”

“It was the circles I was working in. Before I met Nik. It was dark and it was dangerous and it wasn’t a past that I was proud of. Which is why I never talked about it. I wanted to forget that part of my life; being involved with people like that. I had moved on; I was given a way out. And then I started working for Nik and I never thought of all that again. I thought it was finished.”

“How the hell did you ever get on their bad side? It takes a lot to piss them off. As long as you follow their rules…”

“That’s the problem. I didn’t. I did someone a favour. I did work on Continental grounds. And I would have gotten away with it but the wrong person found out about it and told the High Table what I’d done. The only reason I wasn’t punished even worse was because both Winston and John Wick went to bat for me and the High Table agreed to only excommunicate me. I could no longer set foot on Continental grounds, or do any work for -or with- anyone associated with it. They let me just walk away. Make a new life.”

“Why did you never tell me about any of this? That THAT’S what you used to do? I knew you were involved with some heavy duty shit, but…”

“I didn’t think it mattered. That part of my life was over. It was behind me. Just like the things you’d done on the job before we met never mattered to me. There was before us and after us. I didn’t think it needed to be brought up. Would it have made a difference? In whether or not you’d want to be with me?”

“No. Of course not. I just thought something like that would have gotten brought up. At some point.”

“I never had a reason to talk about it. They weren’t a threat. They were a part of me that didn’t exist anymore.”

“Until they showed up.”

“The adjudicator said I had forty-eight hours. To get to New York City and surrender myself to the High Table. Or they were going to come back and physically take me there.”

“You should have let them. You should have called and told me what was going on. I would have come home and I would have…”

“What would you have done, Tyler? Fight back? You still weren’t a hundred percent. And I know how strong you are and I know what skills you have, but none of that would have mattered. It wouldn’t have been just one or two people. Or even six. It would have been a whole army of them. They’re vicious and they’re ruthless and they would have stopped at nothing to get their hands on me. I couldn’t take the chance. Of losing you completely. I just couldn’t.”

“How did you even get here? To New York?”

“I got a hold of Nik.” She notices the way his jaw tenses and his eyes darken) “I know she’s not your favourite person right now. But I didn’t know who else to call. I needed someone I could trust and…”

“You could have trusted me. We could have taken off. We didn’t have to stick around and wait for them to show up. If you'd just called me and told me what was going on…”

“I didn’t want you involved. I didn’t want a target on your back. So I called Nik and she got me out of Australia and to New York City. And from there, John Wick got me to a safe place. He let the High Table know I was back in the States, but he wasn’t turning me over until they gave his word that they’d spare my life.”

“And why would they do that? And why would he help you?”

“It was John that I did the work for. While on Continental grounds. He felt guilty for what I was going through and promised he’d do anything he could go to protect me. He was going to wage war against them; with the Bowery King. It’s a long and twisted and very complicated story. That’s HIS to tell. But the time he negotiated with The High Table for my safety, he was ready to go to battle against them. I never ended up having to face them.”

“And you found out about Millie. During all this.”

“About three weeks later. I hadn’t been feeling well for a while. I was sick when you went with Koen to Broome. We thought it was stress; we’d just bought a house and we were moving in two weeks and we were trying to get everything packed up. But then I got to New York and each day I felt a little worse and I then realized I’d skipped two periods so I took a test and…”

“And there was no way you could have told me? Found a way? To keep it on the down low and….”

“It was too much of a risk. I’d know you’d come here. And I was trying to avoid something happening to you. I know it’s hard to swallow and I know it seems incredibly selfish, but I didn’t do it to purposefully hurt you. I really did do it to protect you.”

Briefly closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger) “What about after? When things calmed down? Why didn’t you contact me then?”

“I wanted to. I was going to. Millie was eight months old, by then. A lot of time had passed since we last talked, let alone saw each other. I chickened out. I was afraid. That you’d be so angry at me and hate me so much that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Or Millie.”

“That never would have happened. It wouldn’t have mattered how much time had passed. If you’d called me, I would have been there. On the next plane. I would have given up my entire life for you. For her. No hesitations, no questions asked.”

“It was stupid of me. And selfish. Incredibly selfish. I didn’t mean for it to go on this long. To hurt you like this.” She reaches out; afraid to touch him at first. But the simple brush of her fingertips against the back of his neck has both his jaw and his shoulders loosening; eyes closing once more as he releases a long, almost content sigh. It encourages her to continue. Scraping her fingernails along the bottom of his hairline before dropping her hand to his shoulder; softly and repeatedly squeezing. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I am so sorry. I know you’re angry and hurt and this is a lot to digest. But I really am sorry. I didn’t leave you because I didn’t love you. I left you because I did. And I still do.”

He blinks at her admission, then turns her face into her palm when she places her hand upon his cheek. In that moment, it occurs to him just how much he’d missed her touch; far more than he’d ever admitted to even himself. Those soft and gentle hands that tended to wounds and wandered and explored his body during intimate times. Soothed his hair away from his flushed forehead or rubbed his back after a nightmare. He had missed HER. The sound of her voice and her laugh; those enormous dark eyes and the smile reserved just for him. He’d seen in that afternoon; when they’d come face to face in her suite. He’d felt it then, that intense draw to her. The want and need. The adoration and love. Still there after all these years; fighting to get past all of the hurt and the pain. even now in the midst of all the hurt and the pain. He boldly presses his forehead against hers; filled with a sense of calm as he finds himself accosted by the feel of her skin and her familiar smell. His lips briefly brush against her brow when she pulls away; sniffling as she swipes at her errant tears. And he gently pushes her hands away from her face and in order to tend to her; fingertips clearing away the droplets that glisten upon her cheeks and the sides of her nose.

“Does Millie know anything?” He inquires. “About her dad? Does she ever ask or…?”

“Lately she’s been asking a lot. All of her little friends have dads, so why doesn’t she? I knew it would happen eventually; she’d get to an age where she’d hear and notice things.”

‘What have you told her?”

“I told her that her dad lives far away. And that he’s a very good man; he’s strong and brave and resilient and has a heart bigger than his body. I told her that we were happy; we didn’t have a lot but we had each other and we were making all kinds of plans for our future. And I also told her that something bad happened and I had to leave him. So that he wouldn’t get hurt. I promised that one day when the time was right, I’d take her to meet him. And I said that I missed him. Every second of every day. For five years. And I loved him; with everything I was and everything I had. That I still do.”

Laying a hand on the back of her neck, he presses a kiss to her brow and then pulls her into him. Holding her as tightly as her tiny body will allow; her entire body shuddering violently against him as she sobs. There could never be hate; loving her with an intensity and a passion he’d never experienced before. Even now it’s so powerful; capable of taking his breath away and bringing him to his knees. And in turn, she clings desperately to him, hands tightly gripping his t-shirt.

Running a palm over her hair, he places a kiss on her temple. “It’s alright now. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not okay. It’s so far from okay. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t want to leave. I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Esme. I know you are.”

“I hope one day you can forgive me. That you won’t be so angry.”

“I’m not angry at you. At everything that happened, yeah. But not at you.”

“ I did what I thought was best. To keep you safe. And then I found out about Millie and I had to keep her safe too. She’s the most important thing in my life. My entire world. She’s all I had of you. And on those days when things got really bad and I was lonely and wanted nothing more than to be with you, all I had to do was look at her. I’d see you every time. And it made things better because I at least had a piece of you to keep me going.”

“I’m sorry, Esme. About everything that happened. That you had to do it all by yourself. I wish it could have been different. I wish I could have been there. You know that I would have, yeah? I would have been there…with you…in a heartbeat.”

Nodding, she pulls away and wipes at her tears. “It’s going to be okay,” he assures her. “I promise.”

“Things would have been so different. If I never had to leave. We’d be happy and raising Millie together and….”

“She’s got a lot of years left. She’s got a long life ahead of her. Just a little girl still.”

“I just want to start over. I just want to do things right this time. We deserve a second chance.”

“We do. And we’ll talk about that. When we’re out of New York and I’ve got you and Millie somewhere safe. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of time. To figure it all out.”

“I should go. It’s late. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“We’ve got four years to make up for.”

“You need sleep. It’s been a hell of a long day. Especially for you. And you’ve had a lot dumped in your lap. I am sorry, Tyler. That it ever had to come down to this. I didn’t want it to be this way; you meeting Millie like this.”

“Sometimes fate just intervenes. Whether we like the way it does it or not.’

He walks her to the door; a protective and loving hand on the back of her neck. And she turns to face him; a gentle and grateful smile curving her lips as she smiles at him, a sparkle in her tearful eyes.

“Thank you. For hearing me out. And thank you for her. Especially for her.”

He grazes his knuckles across the top of her cheek, then along her jaw. Fingertips lingering on the bottom of her chin before leaning down to press his lips to hers. She initially hesitates and then eagerly responds; standing on her tiptoes as her hands settle on his hips. And what starts as long and soft and sweet turns into something far more intense and needy; hearing and feeling the long, content sigh that escapes as his tongue pushes its way; into her mouth; her body leaning into his as her nails dig into his sides. The hunger and want and need for each other suddenly is too much to resist; his fingers hooking in the waistband of both leggings and underwear and aggressively yanking them down; pushing them down her hips and over as ass as her hands make quick work of his belt.

It’s fast and unceremonious; a half-naked, quick and uncomplicated fuck right where they stand. Eerily reminiscent of Dhaka; when two broken and lonely people had found solace in one another after years of mental anguish. Even five years later, he remains fascinated and amazed at how much punishment her little body can take. The fingers of one hand pressing into one of her ass cheeks while the others dig into her throat; sloppy kisses exchanged while she breathlessly pleads for ‘harder’ and ‘faster. Giving him the opportunity to take all of that anger and the hurt and turn it into something more constructive; enjoying the way she yanks at his hair and her legs wrap around his waist as he unleashes brutal, punishing thrusts.

When it’s over, he remains buried inside of her; her mouth peppering his neck with kisses and nibbles as he carries her across the room. Both completely spent and sated when they fall onto the bed; their limbs trembling as sweat glistens on their foreheads and gathers at their temples. And even in the midst of post-orgasmic haze he worries about protecting her; palms flat against the mattress so his outstretched arms can support his weight.

She’s quick to protest when she feels him begin to pull out; mewing in disappointment and pulling him down on top of her. “Stay,” she pleads, hands pushing through his hair; placing a line of kisses along his jaw before her lips find his ear. “Right where you are. I want to feel you inside of me. Just for a little while. I’ve missed that. So much. I’ve missed YOU.”

He kisses her in response; soft and deep and languid. Lips brushing against the tip of her nose before he rests his brow against hers and closes his eyes.