#might be later with the next chapter since i start a new job and will probably be stressed by the change

[maidragoste]

The Parent Trap: Chapter Two

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After the disastrous divorce between Aemond Targaryen and Y/n Velaryon the twins Baelon and Aemon were separated. Each was raised by one of their parents. Baelon was raised by his father while Aemon was raised by his mother. Years later they both meet at a summer camp and discover the existence of the other. The twins realize that there are many secrets in their family, eager to discover their past, they put together a plan to deceive their parents.

Masterlist

Thank you for your support, I was nervous that people wouldn't like it because the fic wasn't the same as the movie so I'm very happy to read all your comments. REBLOGS, comments and likes are always appreciated 🥰🥰💕💕💕

Btw, I made two playlists for this fic. One is from Aemond and the Reader and another is from Reader and Aegon. As I keep writing I'll probably add more songs or even delete some, who knows. If you have songs for me to add or are curious to know why, you are welcome to write to me in my inbox.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Ten years earlier

Your leg kept moving up and down. Your eyes are constantly directed to the door, expecting that at any moment Aemond would return home. You tried to distract yourself by watching TV but you were too anxious. Your mind couldn't focus on the stupid movie because all you could think about was the positive sign on the pregnancy tests you had taken that afternoon with Rhaena and Jace by your side. You regretted telling them to leave. If they were with you they would be preventing you from locking yourself in your own mind. They would make you tell them your fears and they would try to calm you down. The three of them would be making plans. You might even be practicing with Jace how the hell tell Aemond they were going to be parents.

You and Aemond would be parents. You would be a mother. You always knew you would have children, you wanted the happily ever after with the wedding and children like they always showed in the movies, but now you are terrified. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You're barely twenty-three years old, you haven't even finished your second year of editorial editing. It was assumed that when you had children you would be at least over twenty-seven, your career—a career you were truly passionate about—would be finished, you would have a good job, and you would be married. You tried to console yourself by telling yourself that at least you're in a stable relationship. You and Aemond have been dating for three years. You two knew each other since you were little because your godmother is Aemond's older sister and then you ended up attending the same school so you spent a lot of time together. You still remember like it was yesterday how nervous you were when you first kissed Aemond during New Year's. You were afraid of ruining your friendship and that things would become awkward but he didn't pull away when you kissed him he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him. That night they hid from everyone and spent the rest of the celebration kissing. The next day they started dating. From there everything was wonderful. Like any couple, you and Aemond have your run-ins—like when you argued because you didn't like the way he behaved with Jace, your best friend, or when Aemond got mad at you because you made the two of you leave the restaurant you were having a date at. to pick up a drunk Aegon in a bar again—but there was definitely more joy than displeasure in your relationship with Aemond. You saw yourself having a future with him, you could see yourself perfectly next to him in your white dress. You can imagine Aemond putting a baby to sleep while he lulls it to sleep in High Valyrian. Are you sure you want a future with Aemond. But you're terrified of his reaction to this unexpected news. What would you do if Aemond didn't want to keep the baby? You would have to break up with him. Even though you were scared, you knew you wanted to keep the baby. That was clear to you.

You heard the door open and it didn't take long for your boyfriend to enter. You got up from the couch and went to hug him. Whenever he returned home you welcomed him with a hug and kisses. This time you held on to him longer than usual, wanting to remember the feeling of Aemond's arms around you in case this was the last time.

You were about to kiss him but he turned your face away from him making your heart skip a beat. Before you could move away he gently grabbed your chin and studied you carefully. Of course, he had realized something was happening to you when you were clinging so fiercely to him.

“What's wrong?” he asked. Aemond first wanted to know what was happening to you before you kissed him.

Once again you regretted kicking Rhaena and Jace out. At least you should have taken advantage of this time alone to practice in front of the mirror how to tell your boyfriend that you are pregnant. Or you could have called your parents to help you. Although knowing them they would tell you to keep the secret so that the three of them could plan a big announcement together. But you couldn't wait, you need to know now what Aemond was thinking. You needed to know whether or not he would be with you on this trip.

“Y/n?” Your boyfriend called you, feeling his concern growing with every second that you remained silent.

“I think I'm pregnant” You closed your eyes feeling frustrated with yourself and hurried to correct yourself “I mean, I'm pregnant” You tried not to panic as you felt him move away from you “I haven't had any blood tests done yet but I'm One hundred percent sure I'm pregnant. I took five pregnancy tests and they all came back positive.”Your nerves were evident because you were talking faster than normal and you couldn't stop gesturing with your hands.

Aemond felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on him. This was not in his plans. Right now he was focused on opening his own publishing house, he needed to focus all of his attention on that, he didn't need a distraction and a baby would be that. Taking care of a child would take up too much time. But I couldn't tell you that. I'd be an idiot if I told you that. His mother didn't raise him to be an idiot.

“Marry me,” he said, knowing it was the right thing to do. Besides, ever since you two moved in together, he knew you were going to get married. He knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life waking up next to you, he wants your face to be the first and last thing he sees, he wants to come home and always be greeted with your kisses, he wants you to tell him about your day while the two of you have dinner, He wants to hear your theories about the TV shows you watch together. Aemond wants everything with you, even the most mundane things like going grocery shopping or walking the dogs. He loves you. The only reasons Aemond hadn't proposed to you already was because he wanted to wait until you finished college and he wanted his publishing company to be established. Planning a wedding was a big deal and you two didn't have time for that. But now it didn't matter anymore. “Marry me,” he said again with a smile as he saw how you opened your eyes and looked at him as if he were giving you the moon.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, feeling like an idiot for doubting Aemond. Maybe it wasn't the romantic proposal you had dreamed of but you didn't care. You were so relieved and so glad you didn't have to do this alone.

“Yes,” you responded with your heart racing and tears in your eyes. “Yes!” you repeated louder this time before throwing yourself into your fiancé's arms. You began to laugh as Aemond picked you up and spun you around. Your fears were forgotten. The only thing you felt at that moment was happiness.

Present

Aemon found it strange that when he arrived at camp Rickon was not waiting for him at the entrance like the previous years. He assumed this time that the trip had tired him too much and he went to take a nap in his cabin. So he decided to go there first instead of searching for him throughout the rest of the camp. If Rickon wasn't there at least he would leave his suitcases so he could walk comfortably.

When he entered the cabin he expected to find it empty or his best friend sleeping. He never imagined that an almost exact copy of him would be found walking back and forth all over the place. Aemon is not proud but his first reaction is to scream and throw his suitcase at him with all his might.

“Dude, what the hell?!” his copy shouted, barely managing to cum in time to avoid being hit.

“What happened?!” Rickon asked, also screaming, running out of the bathroom. “Aemon you finally arrived!” He ran to hug him.

Aemon barely moved his arms to hug Rickon but his eyes did not leave the other boy who was too similar to him. The copy of him didn't stop looking at him either, the two of them were studying each other. The only difference is that the stranger had much shorter hair than Aemon and did not have tanned skin like him. But Aemon knew that if he hadn't been sailing in the sun with his grandparents just a few days ago then he would look just like the copy of him.

"Who is he?" Aemon asked breaking the hug, no longer able to stand his curiosity. If he had encountered the copy of him years ago he would have thought that it was some kind of prank by Rickon or that maybe it was an evil clone but now he knew that it didn't make sense. The only logical explanation he could think of was that he had a missing twin but that didn't make sense because his mom would never hide something as big as this from him.

“Aemon do you need glasses? It's obvious that he's a copy of you," said the dark-haired boy, earning an angry look from the other two boys. “Don't do that, it's weird,” he complained.

“I am not Aemon's copy. In any case, he is my copy,” declared the short-haired boy.

“I met Aemon before so you are a copy of him.”

“Wait, why does he know my name?” Aemon interrupted before the other two continued fighting over who the copy was. He needed to know what was going on before he gave him a headache. Although since he saw the stranger he began to feel bad. It was disconcerting to see someone just like himself. He made him feel uncomfortable. Not even Joffrey looked that much like him, and she was his brother.

Aemon wanted to know who this boy was, why he looked so much like him, and why this was the first time he had met him. But at the same time, he was afraid. He could already sense that his life would be different after this camp. He decided to sit on the nearest bed to avoid running out and ask one of the caregivers for his cell phone to call his parents to come back to look for him. Maybe he should have let Mom walk him to the cabin like she wanted.

“Your friend thought I was you, he came up shouting your name when I was with my uncle Daeron. My uncle said that he knew you and that I should stay with Rickon until you showed up. Now I see why he insisted so much."

Aemon was sure he had heard Daeron's name before but he was sure he had never met him. Without realizing it he began to move his leg up and down trying to remember that he knew about Daeron but nothing came to mind.

“I am Baelon Targaryen,” the boy introduced himself, looking at him with concern and Aemon squeezed his leg to prevent himself from moving it further. “I think I'm your twin.”

“No,” the long-haired boy denied instantly.

“Dude, we're literally copies of each other!” Baelon said, frustration evident in his voice, pointing at Aemon and then at himself.

Rickon gave Baelon a look telling him to shut up. In the few hours that he had known him, Baelon had never seen Rickon so serious, so he crossed his arms indignantly and watched silently and attentively as Stark sat next to his twin.

“I know it seems crazy, Aemon, but I really think Baelon is right,” said the dark-haired boy, looking at his friend with concern. Rickon wouldn't know how to react either if he suddenly found out that he had a twin. “The two are copies of each other. Besides, he grew up without knowing his mom and you grew up without knowing your dad. I don't think it's a coincidence. Just like I don't think it's a coincidence that Baelon's uncle knew you."

Aemon looked at his best friend before turning his attention to his possible new brother. “When were you born?”

"June 20th. I guess just like you," said Baelon, and was satisfied when he saw that his twin nodded. "I have a photo of Mom!" He suddenly remembered the photo that he had stolen from Dad a long time ago and that he had hidden in his luggage. “You can see her and confirm that she is our mom,” he said excitedly, thinking that this way Aemon could no longer deny his relationship. He couldn't help but be excited at the thought that he was no longer alone, he had a brother. He had always seen how close his uncle Daeron was to his dad and his other uncles and he remembered wanting to have the same.

Baelon ran to grab his suitcase and began to take out all of his clothes, not caring about the mess, until he found the latest Boku no Hero manga that he was reading and triumphantly pulled out one of the pages the photo of her mother with him in her arms while she kissed his cheek, her eyes were only on him, not caring to look at the camera.

“Look,” he said, handing the photo proudly to Aemon. The photo wasn't complete, it was obvious that someone had cut it in half but Baelon didn't care. That photo was one of his most prized possessions. He looked at her every day before going to sleep because he reminded him that his mom loves him.

“Oh, shit,” Aemon muttered before handing the photo back to him.

“It's her, right?” Baelon asked, watching with anticipation as it was now Aemon who was searching for something in his suitcase. Aemon, unlike him, was not throwing his clothes everywhere. He felt his heart race when he saw how his twin took out a notebook and took something out of it.

“Is this your dad?” Aemon asked, giving him a photo. Baelon nodded several times, unable to say anything out of emotion. His dad wasn't looking at the camera but he wasn't looking at the baby he was holding either. He just looked to the side with a smile.

Baelon took both photos and placed them side by side on the bed. The photo was now complete. Dad was looking at Mom. If Baelon hadn't been so engrossed in looking at the photo then he would have noticed Aemon and Rickon exchanging glances.

“I told you we're twins!” Baelon said with a big smile once he snapped out of the shock of nudging Aemon.

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[maybege]

What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas - FBI 12

Summary: A team night in Vegas forces you to make some decisions.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.5k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, hopeless yearning but what’s new

We are so back! Parts 13 + 14 are finished and 15 is on its way there so I am hoping to sustain a monthly posting schedule into the new year. This is a classic filler chapter because the filler episodes are always the ones I loved the most. Other than that, we are picking up in speed and tension in the next few parts. Let me know what you think, your comments are the fuel for the creative engine!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Considering the kind of work you did, it was weird to speak about “favourite” case types. But you would be lying if you said that reuniting children with their families was not something that made your heart feel full every time. Like you were proven that the sacrifices this job demanded were always – always – worth it in the end. That they served a purpose.

But no matter how much joy it brought to see little Ryan reunited with his mother after his father suffered a psychotic break, the lack of sleep made you feel like you could sleep for 72 hours straight. Especially since you had been on three back-to-back cases and your phone was filled with voicemails from your mother.

Hotch’s announcement that you would stay in Vegas for the night then came as a welcome distraction to the entire team.

“I am going to take the longest shower the state of Nevada has ever seen,” Garcia announced in the car on your way back to the hotel and you grinned, agreeing with her in your mind.

“I've never actually been to Vegas,” you admitted to JJ who was sitting in the backseat next to you, “Do you guys, like, do you go out or what’s the plan? It sounds like you have a routine going on.”

“The best routine, sweetheart,” Morgan announced from where he was driving. His smiling eyes met yours in the rear-view mirror, “And I think it will probably start with you getting that shower you mentioned.”

*

“Let’s do shots! Shots sound like a good idea!”

“Everything sounds like a good idea in Las Vegas,” JJ argued but she did not protest when Emily waved down the waiter.

Three rounds later you were pleasantly buzzed, precariously balancing in your heels as you wandered along the Caesars Mall in a dress that might as well double for a mirror ball. Getting ready with Penelope Garcia had been the most chaotic, wholesome and validating experience of your life and you had left the hotel room feeling beautiful and ready to – in Garcia’s words – conquer the night.

One thing you hadn’t anticipated though was that conquering the night in Las Vegas meant walking. Lots and lots of walking.

The fake cobbled stone made your feet unsteady and you giggled, hooking your arm through Emily’s without another thought. You felt her tense up next to you and looked up, wondering if maybe you had crossed a line. Only it wasn’t Emily who looked back at you.

It was Hotch.

Fear and shock made your eyes widen and you suddenly became very aware of just how close you were to him. How overt this show of affection could be read and how inappropriate you were being considering this was your boss.

Shit shit shit shit.

Your brain immediately went into crisis-solving mode and the first step was crystal clear: Get your hands off your (very attractive) boss.

But then his hand landed on yours, keeping your arm around his and you tried to hide your surprise with a wide smile.

“Let’s go get something to eat!” Rossi announced, well aware that no one on the team would ever deny the idea of food, “I have an old friend who owns a restaurant here. I am sure he would be able to get us a table.”

After everybody showed sufficient amounts of enthusiasm for his plan, the group made their way to the other end of the mall. Which should not be as big of a deal as it was but cobblestones were not your friend today.

“A bit shaky there, hm?” Hotch mumbled when you took a careful step down a small step of stairs, a smirk on his lips that made you feel warm all over, “Should I start to call you Bambi?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, tightening your hold on his arm nonetheless, “I am perfectly fine.”

“You sure you don’t need to be going back to the hotel?” he checked with you but did not sound too concerned when his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you down the last step and following the group.

“No way, sir,” you shook your head, “A night out with the entire team in Vegas? I am not going to miss it for the world.”

His large hand squeezed yours slightly and you saw the soft smile on his lips that made your heart flutter in your chest like a hoard of butterflies. You were both silent as you followed Rossi’s lead and you allowed yourself to take in the atmosphere.

The dim lighting and cool air really did make it feel like you were strolling through some Italian streets at twilight if it weren’t for the several high-end stores that were neatly lined together. But as you crossed the threshold to the casino part of the hotel, the carpeted floor did little to dim the noise of the hundreds of partygoers flocking around the cocktail bars, poker tables and slot machines.

Rossi was right about his friend having a table for your group and before you knew it, you were sipping on a glass of white wine and munching on the most delicious bruschetta you had ever tasted.

“Rossi, have I ever told you you're my favourite?” Derek joked, his mouth still working on the bite of pasta he had just taken.

“Hey!” Garcia exclaimed, delivering a slap to his upper arm, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you important information no other hacker could provide.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby girl,” he grinned, playfully snapping his teeth at her. Everybody laughed at their antics and you tried to ignore how a particular set of laughter made your thighs clench.

Get your act together, girl.

The dinner was fun, really, and you found that you could not get enough of spending time with the team. There was so much affection, kindness and hilarious banter between them, it reminded you of the found families you studied in your literature courses.

Maybe the BAU was one of those cases in real life.

No one could ever tell you it wasn’t affection that made Rossi order different pasta dishes for everyone at the table or that caused Reid to explain the surface ratio of different pasta types or that had Emily and JJ order not one but two bottles of the house-recommended wine. It was affection that had Garcia put her head on your shoulder when she was drowsy after dinner and it was affection that twinkled in Hotch’s eyes when he asked you if you’d like a dessert.

“I would never say no to some panna cotta,” you spoke truthfully, “Wanna share?”

He stood up, throwing you a smile. “I will get some from the counter up front.”

To avoid looking at him leave (and the formidable form he was making in that dark suit), you pulled out your phone. You never really got to check it while on a case, so your social media feeds were usually full of new stuff you got to scroll through before you came home. You watched Josh post about some dinners and spotted the @thefabulousamber tag that appeared several times in his stories. And there was John posting some pictures about a run along the river and your school friends, all reuniting back home.

“Interesting,” a deep voice rumbled behind you, “tell me, what exactly are we looking at?”

You turned in your chair, spotting Hotch. He was standing behind you, leaning down to watch what you wanted to show him on your phone and your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his lips ghost over your ear. He was so close. His hands landed on the table in front of you, effectively caging you in and yet you made no move to shy away from him.

 “It’s a cat video,” you said to him with a smile, “look how cute it is!”

“Very cute indeed,” he smiled, looking down at you, “Do you have any cats at home?”

“I wish,” you sighed, “but Josh is allergic and I don’t know if I can justify getting a cat when I am gone all the time.”

“Sounds like you are not really settled.”

“Huh?”

“You’re the newest member of our team and are not from here. A pet usually symbolizes a commitment to one’s current life aside from romantic or platonic relationships.”

“You don’t have any pets.”

“I have a child,” he reminded you before you both burst into laughter at the sight of Reid trying to juggle six different wine corks.

*

It wasn’t even five hours later that your alarm blared in your ears and Garcia – where had she even come from? And especially when? – stirred next to you.

“Five more minutes,” she grumbled, mistakenly patting on your legs in search of her glasses, “Please.”

You squinted your eyes at the display of your phone, trying to ignore the stale taste in your mouth. “I don’t think we have five more minutes,” you stated, forcing yourself out of bed. Why was everything turning?

Oh no, that was you.

You landed with a thud on your knees, the vibration travelling from your joints to your head and you groaned. “I will never drink again,” you muttered. Pressing your hands to your closed eyes, somehow dulled the throbbing in your head.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

You could do this. One step at a time. Time … What was it about time that was so important?

Your head shot up, “We need to leave in like 30 minutes.”

“Oh shit,” you could hear the rustling of the bed sheets as Penelope rolled alone, unsteadily landing on her feet, still wearing her yellow tights from the night before, “Let’s go, bestie, we have bags to pack!”

No training in the world could have prepared you for packing your bags, brushing your teeth and downing three glasses of water within 25 minutes. By the time you had made it down to the lobby and into the cars, you were convinced others could hear your head pound which was why Emily offered you the painkiller before popping one in herself.

All in all, it seemed the entire team was a little worse for wear as you filed into the plane.

All except for one.

“You know the German word for hangover Kater translates into cat but actually it comes from the Old-Greek Katarhh which means to have a cold and was commonly used by 19th century philosophy students after indulging too much.”

“Oh, shut up, Reid,” you groaned, “You drank just as much. How can your head still be this functional?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt bad. Spencer looked at you like a kicked puppy and you sighed. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, reaching out your hand to pat his knee where he was sitting opposite you, “That was uncalled for.”

The leather of the seat next to you creaked and even with your headache, you recognized the shape and warmth of your boss instantly. His upper arm brushed against yours, the fabric of his suit jacket warming against your bare skin.

Your heart skipped a beat at seeing the smile on his lips. Aaron Hotchner, for just the barest of seconds, looked genuinely happy like this and you wondered what he was thinking, what he was seeing. Whether he listened to how Rossi kept talking about some pasta dish you’d never heard of, hands gesturing as he talked to Garcia, or if he was watching Reid and JJ trading plane reads or watching Emily try and get a hold of her cat sitter.

“I’ve heard water is supposed to help.”

You flinched when his voice sounded much too close to your ear, his breath washing down the side of your neck and making you dream of scenarios where his mouth was so close to your neck for other reasons.

“Don’t scream at me,” you mumbled, holding your forehead. There was an uncharacteristic grin on his face that made you want to squint your eyes at him. He seemed so … bright.

“I gather it’s been a long night?”

“Do not come between Penelope Garcia and a bottle of tequila,” you muttered,” just don’t.”

“I could say the same about Rossi and a good whiskey.”

“You don’t look as if you had that long of a night.”

“I drank my water,” he teased, closing the file in front of him, “And admittedly a few more years of practice are worth everything when you drink with either of them.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you hummed, leaning back against the soft seat, “at least we have our own private jet. Thank God for the American taxpayer.”

Hotch didn’t say anything but when you opened your eyes again he was looking at you – and smiling. Aaron Hotchner was smiling at you. You felt the blood rush into your face and you tried to sit up a little straighter, a wave of nausea crashing over you and you whimpered. You’d never ever drink after a case with her again. How did Derek survive until now?

“Here,” you opened your eyes to the sight of a thick hand pushing a glass of water to you on the table, “Drink some more.”

You hid your smile against the rim of the glass.

Maybe everything would change for the better now.

*

Six days later, though, your happiness was shattered into a thousand pieces. Apparently, Aaron Hotchner took What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas literally. Because not only did he act like your flirtation (if you could even call it that) never happened – which was something you had expected all along – but he also acted as if your friendship did not exist.

You were not sure what hurt worse: the fact that you allowed yourself to dream about what this could mean or the fact that he seemed so unaffected by pretending things had never changed from three months ago.

You found yourself floating into the office each morning with a smile, hoping that maybe he was just in a bad mood. That his little comments would start again. That he would correct you when you called him Sir. And each evening, you found yourself sitting at your desk, shoulders falling inwards as you started your way home with a feeling of dread in your belly.

It was not long before the doubt crept back in. Did something happen that made him think you were unworthy, not necessarily of this job, but of him? And why did it matter to you anyway? Yes, he was a good-looking (very good-looking) man whose voice sent shivers down your spine and who made more than one appearance in your dreams, sure. But that did not mean you deserved to let the whims of course crush dictate the way your day was going.

Or your job, for that matter.

Either way, it was absolute bullshit and after another day during which he simply passed your desk without so much as a “Good morning” you found yourself googling flights to Idaho and dialling a number you knew by heart since the age of five.

“Hi, hun,” your mother greeted you on the side of the phone, “How are you doing?”

“Hi Mom,” you mumbled as you clicked on the first available flight, “About that visit we were talking about … how soon can I come?”

[project-sekai-facts]

Pre-broadcast station commentary

The next Broadcast Station will be on the 29th, featuring Yukki, Yuichan, and Furirin! No VOCALOID Music SEKAI segment was announced, so it looks like the main stream will be starting half an hour earlier than usual. There is a reason for this, which we will get to.

Next month will be the Virtual Singer WLE! It will be held towards the end of the month, with chapters being 2 days long instead of 3 this time around.

There's room for one unit event next month, which is looking very likely to be Airi's 5th event. Due to its proximity to the vsinger WLE, the lineup will be entirely MCs. I reckon Shizuku for one of the other rateups, since she's behind on 4*s, and got spammed with lims last year so deserves some perm cards as a break. I reckon Minori could be the other 4*, since her only rateup on an Airi event was back in 2020.

This month's mixed lim event is likely to be either kamikou fes 2, or emu mixed 2. If it's the first one, I reckon the lineup could be Mizuki/Toya (maybe with An, Ena, or Rui as the other card), and serve as the 2-B mixed event. If it's Emu, Haruka/Nene seems like the most likely rateup. Next month's lim is hard to call, but will likely have a Rui lim unless he ends up on this month's event. If he isn't July or August, he's fes.

Now onto why the stream's starting earlier. I'm sure everyone has heard about the teaser for a new project already, and this is scheduled to be announced at 8pm JST, aka halfway through the stream. Given the heavy use of Miku in the promo, as well as this being retweeted by the official Miku account, it's pretty likely this will be vocaloid/piapro related. CFM has already said they'll be announcing vocaloid 20th anniversary stuff soon. PJDiva also turned 15 recently, and while that series is, let's be honest, dead, a PC/console game in the same vein but under the project sekai franchise wouldn't exactly surprise me? It's still a franchise beloved by many, so a rebrand of sorts wouldn't hurt.

A lot of people on twitter have been bringing up colopale's job listings, but imo it's not pointing to anything. Clpl has been vagueing about working on more mobile games for years, job listings confirm some sort of RPG, and there's some listing that suggest it could have a gacha. kinda like genshin? Based on images from their blog posts and job applications for a costume and armour designer, we're talking medieval-ish which. doesn't seem in-line with this teaser at all. though some of their job listings seem to be for multiple different projects, so i might be talking about two different games here. it's worth noting that colorful palette is not bound to CFM and Sega and they are free to work on their own projects outside of prsk, and very likely already are. feel free to laugh at me later if we do get miku rpg or miscellaneous other game that could be either a platformer or open world or something else entirely.

[meazalykov]

redirection VII

esmee brugts x reader

last chapter: redirection VI

next chapter: redirection VIII

being nominated for golden girl was a surprise.

a month after the beach hangout with esmee, its october. i got the news that I've been nominated for the award along with salma, esmee, vicky, and giulia.

I have a feeling that esmee or salma will win it. the both of them are excellent here at barcelona, and they have a world cup campaign to back up their votes.

I didn't.

but little did I know, many people were hoping that I'd win. tons of support has came my way because of my season with the club so far.

each game I've played in, an assist or a goal was attached to my name. my dribbling skills and speed has helped the team with scoring through the toughest defense that another team might bring.

at halftime against atletico madrid, everyone wasn't in the best mood.

the score is 0-0 and nobody has managed to get close to scoring. jona has faith in us, but we were frustrated about scoring a goal. I knew that the atletico players were relieved about not conceding a goal yet.

as I stood by the doors on the dressing room, eager to head out on the pitch to play again, I felt a hand on my right shoulder.

turning my head, esmee gives me a small smile before pulling her hand away. this makes me relax as I follow patri out onto the pitch, with esmee following behind.

esmee was out on the pitch with me since we started together. jona put me on the left-wing and esmee as left-back.

the game starts again and in the 54th minute, patri shoots to score a goal. however, the goalkeeper hits the ball away with her hands instead of catching it.

the ball rolls towards me-- I am standing outside of the box on the left side so I kick the ball towards the goal.

the ball isn't stopped as the ball goes under the goalkeepers legs. the goal is 1-0 as i turned to patri with my hands in the air.

patri runs into my arms and the rest of the team on the pitch come to hug me.

esmee saved herself for last. I hug her tightly as my hand rests on her shoulder.

"that's my golden girl!" esmee mumbles into my ear.

that caused my stomach to melt and my face burned with shyness, however I rolled my eyes playfully-- knowing where she was going with that.

"you're the golden girl-- not me!" I say as I pull out of her embrace and run back into position.

as a smirk is plastered on my face, I look over to see vicky and bruna on the bench giggling. at first, I would've assumed that they're laughing about their own jokes.

that's until vicky started to make kissy faces.

"grow up!" I mouth to the kid on the team as salma prepares to kickoff the game again.

thirty minutes later, the game ends in a 1-0. this wasn't our best, but I know that we will achieve more next game.

"hey capi." I walk over to Alexia, who displays a forced look of content on her face. she was putting the last few toiletries in her gym bag after taking a shower, so she looked at me over her shoulder with a small smile.

"hey nina, great job on today." she turns around and gives me a hug. my face warms at her compliment, alexia tried her best to never let her inner-emotions show around the team.

"thank you. you did great today too." I placed my hand on her right arm as she smiles.

"I know this doesn't have much to do with the game but remember when olga asked about the recipe for the smores dessert I gave you guys a few weeks ago? I have it in my bag if she wants it." I say.

it might've been funny to mention this after a game, but I knew alexia needed the tiny distraction.

"oh yes yes yes! I can have it." she walks behind me as I go over to my bag, pull out a paper with the printed instructions and handed it to her.

"thank you!" Alexia says as she looks over the paper.

"hola! why can't I have one?" patri says from her locker. she stands up and jogs over to look at the paper over ale's shoulder.

"patri you've never tried this dessert." I giggle.

"yes but from the looks of this paper it looks good, I want some." patri says.

"what are we looking at!?" I heard Vicky's voice speak.

a group of salma, vicky, bruna, and esmee walk into the dressing room, seeing patri and alexia reading over the white document.

"oh no." I mumble. this caused a giggle to come out of alexia.

"this is good! who's receta is this?" vicky looks at Alexia, who looks at me with a devilish look.

"maybe I should've gave olga that personally..." I sigh and alexia smiles.

"bruna, esmee, come read this-- doesn't this sound delicious?" salma waves the two girls, who stood by the door, over to read over the small recipe.

my eyebrows knitted together at this, I thought smores were a thing here in europe. well, of course its an ice cream treat that involves it-- but nonetheless.

"is it the sa-mores treat?" esmee smirks at me. my heart warms as I nodded my head with a giggle.

salma, vicky, and patri snap their heads to look over at esmee--who walks over to stand beside me in front of them.

"esmee, you've already tried this?" salma asks.

"why are you surprised? of course esmee tries her girlfriends desserts." vicky casually says.

my jaw drops as patri and salma burst out in laughter. esmee blushes as alexia gives us her signature smile-- amused at the situation.

"okay okay-- you guys can come over to my apartment and I'll make some for the entire team tomorrow night, deal?" I laugh as i take the paper from patri's hands, giving it back to alexia for olga to have.

"deal." salma smirks, not ignoring how you-- or esmee- didn't deny or get defensive over the girlfriend claim by vicky.

next chapter: redirection VIII

<3

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 5

MASTERLIST

“Sup, trick,” a soft voice chuckled next to Delilah, and she turned to see Tiwa, her co-worker at the supermarket, presenting her a can of Mountain Dew and a bowl of jollof rice and stewed chicken as she joined her to sit on the staircase outside on their lunch break. “Want some?”

Delilah grimaced and bit into her carrot stick for emphasis. “You know I can’t have that. I’m workin’ out and shit.”

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting about your wrestling. Shoulda brought you a salad or somethin’,” Tiwa joked, causing Delilah to roll her eyes good-naturedly. The two women had known each other since high school and had run in different social circles back then, but working together for the past four years had closed that gap between them.

“So, how’s wedding planning going? You still got time for that with your wrestling and all?” Tiwa asked as she threw her braids behind her shoulder.

“It’s going,” Delilah shrugged, staring out into the empty backlot of the supermarket. “My Mama’s making sure it’s going, anyway. We’ve put a deposit on the reception hall, but haven’t decided on the catering. I haven’t even thought about a dress yet. Luckily I got my mom’s wedding dress to fall back on if everything else goes to shit.”

“You sound bored outta your fuckin’ mind,” Tiwa pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard any woman sound this uninterested about planning her own wedding.”

“It’s not boredom. I’m just…tired,” Delilah insisted, shuffling her feet on the step she sat on. “Training and working two jobs hasn’t given me much time to think of anything else.”

“What about your man? Is he going to Panama City with you for the show? I mean, that’s gotta be exciting, right?”

“For me? Absolutely,” she responded, turning her face toward the sun. “The networking opportunities are beyond my wildest dreams. For him? Not really. He’s never been a wrestling fan. And he still thinks I’m outta my mind,” she added with a roll of her eyes. In reality, she knew that half the town thought the same way, but she never let it deter her. What she wanted to do with her life was no one’s fucking business.

Tiwa nodded in what seemed like understanding and chewed her food slowly. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, that bad. He’s not cooperating at all.” Delilah huffed, feeling her blood begin to boil already. “First off, he refused to come to my first match. My very first match! He bitches about my training schedule all the fuckin’ time now. What is scaring him so much?”

“Gee, where do I start?” Tiwa snorted.

Delilah looked back at her co-worker, startled by her response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, girl. Look at it. Y’all supposed to be getting married soon and then your wrestling picks up. I saw your match on YouTube and it’s already at like a hundred thousand views. That’s a fuckin’ big deal, ya know? Not to mention you’re spending time with that steaming hot Jey guy that just might end up being your co-worker. And from all the buzz you’re getting, it’s only gonna be a matter of time before that happens. That’s gotta make Andre uncomfortable.”

She didn’t know her match had made it onto YouTube, but she would get back to that later. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am. And I’m happy for you. This town is boring as fuck. Someone needs to get outta this dump and do something interesting with their lives.” Tiwa took a swig of her Mountain Dew. “So back to you and this Jey dude. He seems to be giving you a lot of attention.”

“Y’all making it sound like me and him are seeing each other every day or somethin’,” said Delilah, her tone a little gruffer than she wanted. “That ain’t the case. Jey’s been like a second coach, like Tank. I want to make it to the big time, and if Jey can help me get there, I’ll take it.”

“You sure he hasn’t hinted at something more? Like, you know…”

Delilah shook her head. “Nope. We only talk about wrestling, that’s it. He’s been very professional.”

“Or he’s just waiting to get you alone,” Tiwa cut in. “Maybe that’s why he invited you to Panama City.”

“He invited both Dre and me. I won’t be alone. Tank’s coming along with me since Dre can’t make it.” She wasn’t sure what Tiwa was trying to insinuate, and though she didn’t like it, she tried not to show it. “Girl you trippin’. Relax. I’m getting married to the man I love. Jey’s already married, I think.”

“You think?” Tiwa repeated, and only then did it dawn on Delilah that she’d never seen a ring on his finger. Still… “He knows better and so do I. I got only one goal in mind, and that’s all I care about.” It had been two weeks since her first match, and she was just getting started with building a reputation for herself within the independent circuit. She was working hard and earning every bit of respect she was gaining, and she really didn’t want to throw all of that away.

“Okay,” said Tiwa. “I’m just looking out for you, girl. Do you, and make sure you’re happy while you’re doing it.”

“I know.” Delilah smiled and looked at her watch. Their break was almost over. “You coulda come with me to Panama City too, ya know.”

“Ha, if I do, who’s gonna cover your shift?” Tiwa said, getting to her feet. “Besides…I got a date on Monday night.”

“Oh. So you’ve finally gotten over your crush on Tank, then?” Delilah smirked as they walked back into the supermarket.

Tiwa gasped and avoided her friend’s teasing stare. “How many times am I gonna tell you, Parrish, it ain’t like that with Tank! It never was.”

“And yet, you’re blushing.”

“…..Bitch, bye.”

—------------------

From her place on the ring apron, Delilah watched in complete awe as Liv Morgan and Becky Lynch practiced in the ring for their match, still a good three hours before Monday Night Raw was set to air. The women were opening the show tonight, and she was very excited to see how it all played out. But watching them rehearse was so much better than anything she could have imagined.

The only thing that would have made her day better was Andre being with her. Of course, they had argued about the trip, in which Tank had tried to step in. He was being completely asinine and paranoid. She would never have stopped him if he had the chance to meet LeBron James or Patrick Mahomes, his favorite athletes. This was a once in a lifetime chance for her, and she really couldn’t understand why he was taking all of this so poorly.

“Now that’s a finisher right there,” Tank interrupted her thoughts as Liv Morgan hit Becky backwards in her signature Oblivion to get the pinfall.

Delilah turned back to look up at the huge Titantron as Liv’s theme song rang out in victory. “This is so cool,” she whispered. How amazing would it be to see her own name in lights that bright?

“Ayyy, look who showed up, uce,” a familiar deep voice sounded from the shadows behind her, and she looked over to see Josh making his way down the ramp. 

Without thinking through it, she rushed towards him and leapt into his arms. “This is so amazing! Thank you so much, oh my god,” she squealed happily, not caring if she sounded like a total fan girl at the moment. Never did she imagine she could ever experience all she had since coming down to Panama City; the backstage access, getting to meet the amazing wrestlers she watched on TV every single week; it was sensory overload for her as a fan.

Josh laughed as her legs tightened around him, supporting the woman in his arms with her round backside in his hands. “You welcome, baby girl. You enjoyin’ yourself?”

It was then, as he set her back on her feet, that Delilah noticed how good he looked in his Nike tech fleece outfit. At the same time, Tank appeared from the corner of her eye, and she quickly took a step back from Josh. “Yes! Everyone’s been so nice. The wrestlers, the officials, it’s been awesome.”

“Good to hear. Wanna go talk to the girls?” Without waiting for an answer, Josh grabbed her by the hand and tugged her toward the ring where Becky and Liv now sat on the apron. They looked over at the approaching trio and waved. “Hey, Jey, hey Tank,” greeted Liv, her eyes skating over Delilah’s form. “Wanna introduce us to your friend?”

Sneaking behind her, Josh shoved the shy woman closer to his colleagues. “This is Delilah Parrish. She’s an indie wrestler in the Pensacola region,” he introduced.

“Oh, fellow hometown girl, huh?” Becky’s friendly nature was infectious as she extended a hand toward the new woman. “Nice to meet you, Delilah. I’m Becky.”

“Delilah. Like Samson, right?” Liv inquired. When Delilah nodded, her smile widened. “Such a cute name. I like it. You stickin’ around for the show tonight?”

“Yeah.” Delilah muttered shyly. It was the exact same tone she had taken with pretty much everyone she had met so far. It was all so overwhelming, she felt like she was in a dream.

“Ay Livvy Liv, you busy?” Josh asked. When she shook her head, he nodded toward Delilah. “How ‘bout you show our guest here how it’s done in the big leagues?”

Liv set her towel aside with a shrug. “Sure, why not?” she answered, turning her gaze to Delilah. “You up for it?”

Shocked, the trainee looked back and forth between them. “Wait, you want me to wrestle her? Right now?” 

“Now’s as good a time as any,” Josh shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “Unless you think you can’t do it.”

Offended, her eyes darkened right away. “Hell yeah, I can do it.”

He stepped closer to her, staring her right down, “Then show me,” he whispered.

Liv leapt back into the ring and backed up, beckoning for Delilah to join her. “Come on, show me what’cha got,” she challenged.

Before she knew what was happening, Delilah was locking up with Liv freaking Morgan in the middle of the ring, listening for her rushed verbal cues as they sparred like old partners. So immersed was she in the match they were constructing, Delilah didn’t notice that Josh and Tank had been joined by a few other men.

“Who’s the girl?”

Turning his head slightly, Josh took his boss’s hand in a handshake and then returned his attention to the action in the ring. “She’s one of Tank’s,” the Samoan spoke of the trainer who was now shouting instructions to his pupil from outside the ring, while Becky cheered on Liv on the other side.

Triple H watched with a critical eye as the new woman launched herself off of the ropes and knocked Liv to the mat with an impressive, albeit stiff clothesline. “She’s unpolished,” he deduced.

Josh shrugged. “She’ll get better,” he assured the older man. “Her very first match was just two weeks ago and she killed that shit, man. Two hundred thousand views on YouTube already,” he added, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice.

“I see.” The multi-time World Champion nodded his head, his gaze still fixed on the story the women were trying to tell in the ring.

As Liv wedged her horizontally between the ropes by the turnbuckle, Delilah glanced to her left, her heart nearly jumping into her throat when she saw Triple H of all people, watching intently a few feet away, as though waiting for her to do something special. She was so distracted that she didn’t hear Liv’s reminder to brace herself for the impact of her double-knee attack. Liv’s knees and shins colliding with her sternum knocked the air right out of her, causing her to collapse hard in the corner, limbs twisting everywhere as she hit the canvas.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Liv screeched, as Delilah rolled to her side and slowly made her way to her knees with a moan. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It was my fault,” she puffed, taking the other woman’s extended hand to pull her up.

“Yeah, Triple H has that kind of effect,” Liv said, winking at her. “I was the exact same way the first time I saw him.”

Risking another glance at the base of the ramp, Delilah breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that Hunter had left them alone, but dread quickly filled her insides as she wondered what he’d thought of her performance.

“What the hell was that?” Josh’s laughing voice interrupted the ladies’ conversation. Delilah blushed wildly and ducked under the bottom rope. “I panicked,” she admitted softly. “So tell me the truth,” she said. “How bad did I fuck up my only chance to impress that man?”

Josh helped her out of the ring and set her down on her feet. “You tried. Let’s just leave it at that.” Her nervous expression caused him to wrap an arm around her waist for a quick hug. “But ay, you went for it, and Hunter appreciates that,” he whispered.

The feel of his breath on her ear sent shivers down Delilah’s spine. She shook it off quickly, deciding that she was still being a fangirl, that it was just his breathtaking presence that still affected her. She would have felt the exact same way if it had been Andre holding her like this.

Mistaking her inner turmoil for something else, Tank nudged her from her other side. “You did good, kid. I could tell Hunter liked it,” he said.

The uncharacteristic compliment from her usually no-nonsense teacher caused Delilah to blush, but before she could respond, a stage hand called for Tank to follow him up the ramp, leaving her all alone with Josh. She felt very self-conscious as she walked next to him towards the backstage area.

Somewhere along the way, Josh had invaded Delilah’s thoughts and fantasies on more than a few occasions. Never, since getting with Andre, had she ever thought about another man while making love to her fiancé, until lately. She wanted to blame it on seeing him every week on TV, recalling his deep, seductive voice on the phone, all of which left her imagining things she never dreamed of. Yeah, he seemed to be a bit touchy feely, but he had never made an outright pass at her, and had done nothing beyond a few flirty words and gestures. Maybe she was overthinking it too much and just needed to relax.

Josh looked down at her, trying not to stare into her tank top from his considerable vantage point. She was engaged to be married, but he couldn’t seem able to tell himself that it meant she was off limits. He was drawn to how unaware she was of her beauty and her sexiness, and it made her that much more attractive in his eyes. “You quiet. What’s on your mind?” he asked her, forcing himself out of his wayward thoughts.

Delilah followed him into a huge locker room. “Just thinkin’ about how surreal all of this is. It’s one thing to see it on TV. It’s a whole ‘nother thing to see it all up close…” she trailed off, shaking her head in awe.

Grabbing two bottles of water, Josh directed her to a table and sat across from her, opening her bottle before sliding it to her. “Yeah. Wait until you become an actual employee.”

Scoffing, she drank from the bottle and leaned back in her chair. “Right. Like that’s gonna happen.”

“What makes you think that?”

With a sigh, she looked around the empty room. “I don’t know. For all intents and purposes, I’m still a rookie,” she reasoned. “I got so much more to learn. I don’t even look like the typical WWE Superstar. My hair’s too damn big and curly. I haven’t put on enough muscle yet.” Casting a glance over her own body, she sighed again. “And I’m gonna need implants, which I definitely can’t afford,” she added.

Josh looked her over, zeroing in on her chest. After seeing her in her wrestling outfit a couple of weeks ago, he was convinced there was nothing wrong with her hot body. “You don’t need no implants,” he assured her.

Shock washed over Delilah at his blatant assessment. “Okay, um, so where else are we going after this?” she asked nervously, hoping to break the suffocating tension building between them.

“Whatchu doin’, Delilah?” Josh ignored her question, watching her brush her hair out of her face for the hundredth time, the glint of the rock on her engagement ring seemingly taunting him every time she did so. “What exactly are you puttin’ in all the hours training and wrestling for? To achieve your dream? Or to get away from your fiancé?”

Recoiling a little, Delilah narrowed her eyes at what he had asked. Why was he being so intrusive? “Dude…” she stammered, her defenses going right up. "I’m not…I’m not sure how that’s any of your business.”

“Baby girl, this business is everything to me,” Josh said to her, his tone strangely serious. “It’s my whole life. And I get a kick out of seeing other people who love it too and get immersed in it for all the right reasons.” Shaking his head, he crossed his massive arms over his broad chest. “I need to know which side you’re on, so I’ll know whether I’m wasting my time with you or not.”

“Wasting your time? What the fuck…I never asked for your attention, Josh!” she shot defensively, staggered by this sudden change to their conversation. "To be honest, I don’t even know why you are showing any interest in me.” Behind her, she heard the door open, and she forced herself to lower her voice, even though she was seething at his audacity. “Maybe I should ask you. What’s in this for you, huh? Why me? There are a million other new wrestlers that you could be focusing on.“

Shrugging a shoulder in agreement, Josh leaned back in his chair and let his dark gaze scan her from head to toe. "Maybe,” he conceded, a smirk playing on his lips. “But it’s not them I wanna fuck.”

The words struck her like a blow to the gut. Did she hear him right? Was he suggesting that he wanted to sleep with her? That he was as attracted to her as she was to him? Did he fantasize about her too? Did he forget she was engaged? Wasn’t he married? How could he make such an open confession?

Before she could say something, the room began to fill up with members of the Raw roster, Josh stood up and gestured for her to do the same. “Come on. Let’s go find Tank,”  he said to her.

--------------

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[uwupaige]

the nanny [paige bueckers] part three

[chapters 4 & 5]

the nanny master list!

chapter four: basic psychology shit.

warning: annoying filler chapter :/ chapter 5 is cute though🩷

catherine's phone buzzed as she anxiously dialed in the number of her best friend, desperate to tell someone, anyone, of her amazing news.

the dialing tone rang in her ears for a few moments. soon, it clicked, the girls phone speaker being filled with molly's voice as she casually greeted catherine, "hey, girl."

"ahh!" catherine squealed excitedly into the speaker of her phone, which was resting between her cheek and the palm of her hand as she walked down the corridor of paige's condo building. her free hand rummaged through her dark brown purse in search of her car keys, almost unaware of her volume.

"woah, someone's cheery." molly laughed into her cellphone. she was about to ask what the girl was so excited about, but ended up cutting herself off from her own gasp. "wait. did you get the position?"

"i got the position!" catherine confirmed, another squeal to follow as she did a small jump, finally making her way to the buildings exit.

now it was molly's turn to squeal. "that's my girl!" she screamed enthusiastically.

catherine sighed as she finally took much needed deep breaths. "i'm actually so excited, i might splurge."

"oh yeah? how so?" molly asked her best friend curiously, although she felt like she already knew the answer.

finding her car fairly quickly, catherine clicked the top button on her keys twice, unlocking the deep red car. "imma get fast food." she spoke, proudly.

molly laughed out loud at her best friend's snobby plans. catherine always sounded like a gym rat whenever she spoke those words. "ohh, that's, like, unheard of."

"eating out all the time is the easiest way to go broke." catherine reminds the girl on the other end of the line. molly joined at the end of her statement, being one she's heard too many times before, and just laughing at her best friend, ultimately proud of her.

walking the woman out of her spacious condo, paige continues their conversation from moments prior.

"so yeah, how soon can you start?"

catherine spun on her heels slightly to meet paige's eyes, a wide grin playing on her deep mauve lips as she excitedly told the woman, "i can start as soon as next week."

it had been almost a week since their interview at the breakfast spot, and she had been formally offered the job. catherine couldn't be more happy or relieved. she decided to not quit vynil completely, but she wouldn't have to work there every night like she had gotten used to. for the first time since she started school, she can really focus on it.

"okay, cool," paige smiled at the woman, hand resting on her black painted front door as she leaned comfortably on the door frame. "i'll uh, see you monday?"

flashing paige one more smile before her departure, catherine nods, "bright and early."

and she was there, a little bright and extremely early, that late september monday morning. catherine would be lying if she said she wasn't extremely nervous. there was some sort of comfortable awkwardness between her and paige. sometimes they could hold a great conversation, but then it'd die down and it would be.. awkward? catherine was sure it was unlike any employee-boss relationship she'd ever had in her many previous jobs.

whatever. at least madison liked her. madison totally thought of catherine as a friend of paige's just watching her. which was true to a degree. though, catherine wasn't sure how much of friends they were.

ringing the doorbell to paige's residence, it was opened moments later by a tired looking blonde. "aye, w'sup." paige greeted the girl, quite enthusiastically for looking so tired, leaning against her black doorframe once again.

"good morning," catherine responds, soon hearing the loud crash of a toy falling behind paige, catherine peering over her shoulder slightly to reveal madison playing happily and unbothered in the spacious living room. "oh—someone's up." she jokes.

paige just sighs, nodding with a slight eye roll. "since 5:30." she informs as catherine walks in, paige offering to take her purse from her shoulder and placing it on the dark, granite kitchen counter. "and now," paige starts after closing the front door, speaking loudly so madison could hear her. "it's time for madison to get ready for school."

the curly headed girl looked up from her spot on the living room floor, a pout immediately finding her lips as she begins to throw a fit. "but i don't wanna!"

"madison, i'm not gonna tell you again." paige spoke, exhaustion in her words. catherine could tell this had been an all morning battle. "can you please pick up your toys and get ready for school. i picked out something pre—"

cutting off her mom, the little girl cried loudly, her tantrum taking over as she began to flail her arms every which way. "no!"

"bruh," paige muttered to both herself and the girl standing besides her, not expecting to look over at her with an amused smile as a replacement for her previously cheery one.

catherine moved closer to the distraught girl, getting down on her level, taking a seat on the floor in front of her. "hey, madison," catherine tried gently. madison didn't stop, continuing on with her tantrum, whining about wanting to play longer. "if you help me pick up your toys as fast as you can, you can pick out anything to wear to school today." madison's cries became slower and she nodded sadly at the girl. "can you do that for me?"

"yeah." the girl sniffled, her voice strained from the cries, wiping away almost non existent tears.

"thanks. i'll help you." catherine smiled. she grabbed a few of the miscellaneous toys, putting them where she assumed was her designated toy basket.

once done, madison was happily jogging off to her room to pick out a princess dress to wear, seemingly forgetting about the tantrum moments prior. she was just excited she got to wear another princess dress.

"that's crazy," paige comments as catherine pushed madison's basket of toys to the corner of the room in its respective spot. "how did you do that?"

"get her to pick up her toys?" catherine asks, amused paige was curious herself.

catherine's eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, another question prompting her mind. "aren't you majoring in human development?"

"..and family sciences."

"oh, c'mon paige. that's like some basic, intro to psychology shit." catherine explained, paige looking at her expectantly. "positive reinforcement..?" still no answer to her statements, catherine scoffs out a laugh, "paige."

"you try taking what you learned in college and applying it to your children." the blonde joked rhetorically and half offendedly, knowing catherine can't exactly do that. this just made the girl laugh.

it was moments like these that catherine could be down with. they kind of felt like friends, everything was extremely laid back. but not at the same time? it was weird. and now was when the part the awkward settled in.

before the suffocating tension could grow any thicker, catherine excused herself from the room, en route to madison's.

"any good choices?" catherine peered her head into the girls room, another mess of toys taking over, something she made a mental note of.

the little girl turned to catherine, one light purple dress in one hand, and a yellow one in the other. "rapunzel or belle?"

catherine could already tell this girl loved her fashion. walking into the messy room fully, she sat on madison's small and unmade bed. "mm.. i choose rapunzel?"

madison nodded proudly at the girls choice, agreeing entirely. "me same."

before leaving for the school day, catherine made it a mission to do the little girls hair. and promised to do something more than just the buns paige would do. as the little girl spoke about any and everything, she sat comfortably in her bathroom sink like she normally did, catherine just finishing up the dual pigtails in the girls hair as she looped each one around her finger to give it some bounce.

paige peered her head through the bathroom door, going to say a quick goodbye before she was off to a full day of studying and basketball. she gasps at her daughter in the mirror with a wide smile, "woah, you look so pretty babe." she complimented, her tone higher than usual, earning her daughters giggling. then turning her attention to catherine, she did a quick run through the rest of the day's schedule, how pick up and drop off looked, et cetera. "and, i left a key next to your purse for you... uh, am i missing anything?" she asks after a pause.

catherine simply just shook her head, hands still working magic on madison's head, "i don't think so."

"alright," paige says before saying her goodbye, catherine moving out of the way so paige could place a quick kiss to her daughters head before she left.

˚✧.*

unbuckling the little girl from the booster seat, provided by paige moments before she left, catherine walked hand in hand with madison to her kindergarten classroom. walking in, catherine noticed the nothing but cheery energy radiating from the room. the walls were all white, but almost none of it was visible due to the amounts of bulletin boards covered in student drawings and wall decor. after a few moments of taking in the room, the little girls teacher, an older woman in her 50s, greets the pair.

"oh! you're not mom." the woman joked enthusiastically, catherine giving her a polite chuckle.

"hi, i'm catherine. little one's nanny." she explained as she stuck out her hand, the teacher nodding understandingly with a smile.

accepting catherine's hand shake, the older woman began to speak, "i'm mrs. chase. it is very lovely to meet you!" this woman was as sweet as pure sugar. it'd be obvious to anyone who met her that she was a kindergarten teacher. "i'd love to show you around the classroom—oh, that is if you have time."

catherine nods, brows perched up as a, "yeah, yeah, for sure!" left her plump lips.

mrs. chase allowed madison to walk catherine to her designated seat in the classroom, walking away momentarily as madison excitedly showed catherine her desk. it was apart of a group of 4 desks all pushed together, none of them occupied by other children yet.

"here is this," mrs. chase spoke upon her re-arrival, handing a sheet of paper to catherine. the top of the paper wrote 'important dates.' "this is our class schedule, and it has every important date on there. classroom parties, field trips, half days, et cetera." the woman went on to explain, "and we do hope to see parents and caregivers to participate."

catherine nods, not knowing how to disagree with this lovely lady to any degree. "absolutely."

soon, it was time to say their goodbyes, catherine crouching down next to madison. "you're gonna have a good day." she tells the girl.

"isn't it just 'have a good day'?" madison questions, catherine shrugging, a slight head shake to follow.

"i'm telling you to have a good day. so it's much more effective." she explains loosely, madison just shrugging.

"okay. you're going to have a good day too, cat."

"yes i am." catherine agrees with a cheeky smile, wanting to absolutely squeeze the girl for being so undeniably adorable. however, she opted for a simple high five for starters. madison soon ran off to find an empty center of toys and activities to play at.

as catherine stood up from her crouched position, mrs. chase began her next conversation, "you're great with her." the older woman spoke up from behind her. catherine turned to face the woman, confusion on her face. how did she make that assumption based off of one interaction? "madison doesn't normally speak. not to any of her classmates, and barely to me."

"really?" catherine asked, having gotten to know madison as nothing but a yapper. "that's interesting."

"how so?"

"all she does is talk my ear off. way more than a lot of 5 year olds i've worked with." the girl explained further.

mrs. chase nodded at that, impressed. "i didn't know madison would be quite the talker.. well, it is only her third week here. hopefully she'll acclimate soon."

catherine smiles, nodding in agreement, "she will." she'd make it her mission.

˚✧.*

walking on to the large basketball court, shoes in hand, paige found an empty spot next to her teammates. they had all been talking about nonsense for some time time, waiting for their designated practice time to start. as paige pulled on her shoes, tying them with ease, an excited nika sat next to the girl. the pair had been friends for years now, and had gotten extremely close this current season.

"so," the brunette began with much excitement, "when do we get to meet this daughter of yours?"

paige stopped in her tracks, along with everyone else. paige turned to nika discreetly, shooting her a look. immediately, the girl's hand came up to cover her face in embarrassment. "no one knew, huh?" she says lowly to paige. the blonde just simply shook her head in agreement, closing her eyes, waiting for the first initial reactions.

"daughter?" paige heard the conflicting sounds of two of her teammates, ice and aubrey, asking in unison. they all had so many questions. why didn't she tell them? how old was this daughter? and, seriously, why didn't she tell them?

"whose daughter?"

in that moment, their coach, geno, came walking into the gym, the assistant coaches not far behind him. he instantly noticed the tense interaction between his players, quick to jump in.

"paige's."

geno looked between all of them, slightly confused. "you all didn't know about that?"

a gasp erupted from the group, "nah, not you telling coach before us." this emitted laughter from everyone, as they all began to circle around paige.

"girl, why didn't you tell us?" ice asks, seriously and concerned.

paige shrugged, still avoiding eye contact for as long as she could, now twiddling with her thumbs. "i'on know." her words low and sheepish. "didn't wanna be judged, i guess."

again, the group of women react like they're even more offend. they all had no problem sharing how much they didn't appreciate being thought as ones to judge their friends.

"it's easy to be judged by outsiders, but you guys are like my family." paige confides in them, finally looking up from her embarrassed stance, "i didn't want to change anything, y'know?"

a concerned looking aaliyah came up to the blonde, "we wouldn't judge you, p." that statement was soon followed with each of the woman sharing their support with a sweet and simple 'yeah'.

paige wanted to tear up at the support her friends—no, her family—had given her. they couldn't even begin to understand how much she had been needing it. but before she could grow too sappy, they all grew extremely excited, going on and on about how they were so excited to have a 'team daughter.'

"okay so boom, now that we all know, GUESS who madison's nanny is." kk spoke over the loud group, instantly grabbing their attention at the gossip she was about to spill.

azzi couldn't wait for them to actually guess, spilling the news almost seconds later, "you know the bartender from a couple weeks ago, the one paige kept saying was hot—her!"

no one was expecting that answer, all wanting to know how that even happened, but mainly wanting to tease paige endlessly for her near impossible circumstances. "alright, alright, chill." paige laughed at their teasing, being shoved jokingly from every angle and every one, "not too much on me now."

"mhm, and you all have drills to run." geno interrupted, blowing his whistle soon after.

˚✧.*

chapter five: you cooked?

a long few weeks have passed since catherine became an everyday person in paige and madison's lives, and their transition into the new routine was definitely one to get used to.

especially with there only being so many weeks until basketball season officially started. paige was busier than normal. if she wasn't in class, she was in the gym. and if she wasn't there, she was rushing home to hang out with her daughter before her inevitable bedtime.

"madison! get back here!"

catherine called loudly for the small girl throughout the apartment, last hearing her small but heavy footsteps and loose giggles down the hall.

soon, she found the girl hiding behind her soft purple shower curtains, sunken in the corner of the white bathtub like it would hide her better.

picking her up, despite her kicking and whining, she finally brought the girl to her bed, allowing her to choose which story she wanted to hear. catherine's soothing voice told the story as excitingly calm as she could, her voice lulling the little girl to sleep.

watching her eyelids starts to flutter slowly, indicating she was fighting sleep, but falling asleep nonetheless. catherine's voice fell off slowly and carefully, standing up cautiously from her crouched position next to the girls white bed. as she started to tip toe to her door, reaching for the light switch, in came a loud and unaware paige, peering her head through the door.

"she sleeping?"

catherine's eyes widened at paige, blinking profusely and annoyed, peering over her shoulder to find the once asleep girl awake, her eyes fluttering open. "hi, paigey."

paige grimaced, looking at catherine, her eye twitching. the blonde stammered out an apologetic, "sorry."

catherine unlocked the front door to the bueckers condo. the same tall, black door she's opened many times now. turning the handle, she pushed it open to be greeted with a multitude of toys scattered on the living room floor. several dolls and their pink and purple accessories decorated the carpet distastefully. sighing a little, the brunette wiggled her copy of the key out of the lock, calling out for the little girl who created the mess. "madison?"

once the door closed behind her, she heard the loud pitter-patter's of little feet echoing down the hall, revealing a small girl with messy, brown curls running in to greet the taller woman. grabbing catherine's jean covered leg excitedly, clinging tightly, madison smiled up at the girl. "cat!"

"hi, mamita. good morning." catherine grins down at the girl, a hand reaching down to rub her back comforting. however, only a few moments passed before she needed to drop the besties act, taking on her more nanny-like role. "can you tell me what's wrong with the living room?"

madison's head peered behind her momentarily, looking back at catherine with a playful smile. sheepishly, she answers, "i didn't clean up my barbie's."

catherine nodded proudly, tucking a piece of loose hair out of her face. "can you do me a favor?" she asks, her kid friendly tone making madison's ears peek at this, eliciting a nod from her. "can you be a big helper and make the living room look like how your mom had it this morning?"

madison jumped at the idea to be a helper, nodding again, enthusiastically this time.

catherine's discipline with the girl became stronger by the day, madison developing a level of respect for her. she started understanding catherine to be an authoritative figure, but a friend at the same time. it was starting to reach a healthy balance.

"maddie, go throw your plate away." catherine calls the girl back to the counter at which she had been eating, her paper plate left alone in it's spot, containing the remnants of her fast food.

a bit confused, madison walks back over to her spot, grabbing her plate and bringing it to the metal trash can that sat comfortably in the corner of their kitchen. paige always cleaned up after her. it was easier for the both of them, and paige wasn't one for constant reminding.

"thank you." catherine thanked the girl enthusiastically, madison finding her spot on the dark grey couch to continuing watch her cartoon. peering over her shoulder to check out the time displayed on the stove that was hardly ever in use, catherine called out, "tv off in 15 minutes."

madison looked over at her nanny, now extremely confused. "but it's not my bed time yet?"

"i know, but too much tv isn't good for us, especially before bed." catherine explained gently.

madison pouts at the news, "paige lets me watch all the tv i want."

the brunette nods—trust me i know, she thought to herself. "it's okay, your mom will understand. we can read a book instead! or play barbie's. your choice!" catherine tried to sound as enthusiastic about the sudden change to make the little girl more open to the thought. it took a few nights before they got the hang of it.

madison begins picking up her toys, attempting to run to her room once she believes she done. noticing a few left behind, catherine called her back to pick up the rest. "mira, mira," the girl spoke quickly and fluently, pausing the girl in her tracks and pointing towards the miscellaneous toys. madison sighed before picking up the rest, then trucking to her room.

in that moment, paige began leaving her room, passing her daughter in the hall. "hi, paigey." madison greeted happily, seemingly forgetting the attitude she had a few moments ago.

the blonde stopped in her tracks, smiling down at her daughter and placing a kiss to her forehead. "hi, babe."

continuing her way down the hall, paige is met with catherine standing in the kitchen, her head peering through the grey cupboards. "hungry?" paige calls with a smirk and a light chuckle.

the brunette looks past her shoulder, rolling her eyes at paige's joke. "deciding on what to feed maddie.. you should hit the grocery store soon." she suggested, pulling out a bag of bread.

making the girl both breakfast and lunch was something catherine had started to do this week. paige felt a little bad. it wasn't part of her job description. "y'know you don't have to. they serve breakfast at the school."

catherine wanted to laugh at the statement. "i can almost guarantee she isn't eating it. or the lunch. when i pick her up, she's starving." the girl explains, opening the bag to pull out two slices of the wheat bread. "she's started asking for big people meals when we order dinner." catherine continues.

paige chuckles at that, nodding understandably. sounds like maddie. "alright.." her words fade off momentarily, watching catherine focus on the food she preparing. "well, we appreciate it." she finished, catherine just looking up to catch her eyes for a little, flashing her a small smile before continuing at the sandwich in front of her.

"i gotchu," catherine reminds as she spread the peanut butter on the two bread slices.

not long passed before the blonde had to head out for her busy day, kissing madison goodbye as she usually did, and nodding to catherine on her way out with a smile. catherine returned the nod, along with a, "have a good day."

over these first few weeks, the two women began to get along better than they'd thought. well, better than catherine thought, at least. based off of her first impression of paige, she expected the girl to be stingy with other things too. not super involved or worried. but she happened to be the opposite.

they were becoming friends. totally unexpected, but neither of them would change it. paige was extremely appreciative of the girl. she didn't truly realize how much she really needed the extra support until catherine came along. she did way more than paige ever asked of her, and whenever paige reminded her that she didn't need to, she'd just shrug and smile, sweet like she always was.

"i don't mind."

that's why paige was less than shocked when she returned home that same night to her home smelling of warm food. it wasn't completely abnormal, but it was stronger than just the average lingering smell of fast food she was normally greeted with. sniffing as she walked in, wondering desperately what that delicious smell was, she eventually wandered into her kitchen.

she took in the appearance of the room, and how the two girls she had gotten so used to coming home to decorated it. there sat a black pot on the stove, looking to be half full of food, with a couple of spoons and spices spread out miscellaneously around it.

madison sat at the counter stool, legs dangling over her seat as she ate out of her bowl. and then there was catherine, leaning her elbows against the kitchen counter, snacking on a strawberry, biting around the stem with one leg crossed over the other. the two were just holding a normal conversation, oblivious to paige's arrival until she walked into their view. looking over simultaneously, they both greeted the girl.

"paigey!"

"hey!" catherine smiled, not forgetting to cover her mouth politely, still chewing on the strawberry.

almost disregarding their greeting, she spoke the question that had been on her mind since she walked in the door. "you cooked?" she asked, voice higher pitched, showing she was a bit surprised.

"oh, yeah," catherine nodded casually, looking over at the stove momentarily, going to point, "uh, just some chicken and rice."

when did she buy a chicken?

"i thought you said it was called arroz con pollo." madison questioned, catherine laughing at the little girls butchered pronunciation.

"arroz con pollo. that just means chicken and rice, mama." she corrected the girl gently, then repeating it slowly for her to understand better. standing up from her lounging position, catherine began to move for the living room to go grab her things, "you can totally have some, i made extra in case you wanted." she informed paige as she walked by with a light arm tap.

paige, who had just stood there, sort of in awe, finally fell out of her trance momentarily. "oh, wait," she stops the girl, before she forgets. reaching into her backpack, which was previously resting comfortably on her shoulder, she dug around it before pulling out and handing catherine her check for this weeks work. catherine almost forgot it was friday.

"sweet, thanks." catherine smiled at her, taking it. looking over the numbers to make sure it was correct, her eyes bulged. "oh shit, you wrote it wrong." she informed, looking up at the girl slightly, handing the check back to her.

paige shrugged, shaking her head, "i don't think so."

catherine scoffed at this, a knowing smile plastering her face as she understood paige's tone. "then you over paid. i'm not taking that."

paige just shook her head no, again. "keep it. for the chicken." paige joked, alluding to the cooked and sliced chicken in the pot.

"it was like eight dollars. it's fine." catherine insisted, now pushing the check against paige's stomach, eyes still looking up at the blonde.

paige's body slumped away from her poking instinctively. "seriously, keep it. for all the extra stuff you been doing." paige says sincerely.

soon, the brunette had a playful smile on her plumped lips, and it was like paige almost knew what she was going to say. "paige bueckers, are you tipping me?" she jokes, a laugh slipping out instantly. she’ll never stop joking about the first night they met.

paige rolled her eyes jokingly, letting out a small laugh too, "get outta here." she dismisses her, but continuing with her praises from earlier. "seriously though, you're help the last few weeks has been great, and it's helped me a lot. even with maddie, her teacher says she's been improving so much... we appreciate what you do. right, mads?" she spoke louder with that last part, grabbing her daughters attention.

they both look over to the little girl, playing with the few stray grains of rice in her bowl. "what does appreciate mean?"

"it means we're thankful." paige explained simply.

madison then nods, agreeing with her mom. "yeah, i'm thankful for you, cat."

catherine's heart swelled up at that comment, her stomach dipping a bit. she had started to grow so fond of this little family. she's never been so excited to go to work in her life. being with the bueckers didn't even feel like working, though. she had started really see them as her friends, her family. her heart was always fulls around them.

and finding the pot that was once filled with food empty the next morning made her heart even fuller.

authors note!

love. them. so. bad.

sooo super excited to write for this cutesy little family. let me know what you’re thinking! any theories on the angst that’s not far away??

also, if you want more frequent updates, my wattpad (@/uwupaige) gets new chapters like 3 times a week!

thanks for reading!🩷

- mari 🫧

4.8k words.

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem! reader - PART SIX.FIVE

Six is my lucky number so hopefully you all enjoy the new only-exists-for-smut .5 🫠🫠🫠 sorry this took forever. I kept wanting to end it on a story-building note but couldn’t ever settle on one that I liked, so it is what it is for now.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / sex toys / bondage / fingering / p! In v! / oral f! & m! Receiving / multiple orgasms / it’s a .5 chapter it literally exists solely for the sake of smut so have fun besties / super jealous Ken / rough sex / possessive / spanking / pet names (baby girl) (good girl) / praise / edging / overstim / exhaustion

Ooooohhhhh no no no no….

It was the first day of your Fall flex term class. You still had your normal Fall/Winter full time classes happening but you had decided to sign up for the new four-week course as well, since the professor was a favorite author of yours and you didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to learn from her.

Ken had been with you most of the day. His job at the bubble tea shop was fascinating to him and he asked if he come come to campus with you to explain how magical his first day of work was because he felt being stuck at home would be too boring.

You got to your classroom and turned to Ken. “Alright, you can go hang at the library or something, it’s right next to this building and I’ll come get you when class is over.”

Your new professor heard you as she was walking down the hallway to the classroom herself.

“Oh, he can hang out in class, I don’t mind,” she smiled. “It’s a huge classroom so I’m sure one of seats towards the top back corners will be available if you wanted to stay.”

You wanted to ponder this invite for a moment but Ken had already smiled back and was walking in front of you into the classroom. He was able to have a seat towards the back like the professor had suggested, and he settled in to see what a day in class looked like.

The classroom was one of those giant theater-like seating arenas and echoed a decent amount anytime anyone was talking, so it was definitely echo-y today as students filed in and began sitting down and visiting with their new classmates around them.

The clock was about to hit what was the start time for class when a last person walked into the room and you suddenly regretted choosing a seat towards the front, only because maaayybbee he somehow wouldn’t notice who you were and then Ken wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown of finding out who this guy was. Because of course Ken is attending a class…with you in it…and your ex Dave was now walking over to the professor as she handed him some papers.

The professor introduced herself to the class and motioned towards Dave, who sat near the front of the room as well, and told everyone he would be her TA for the semester.

“Don’t notice me,” you pleaded in your head. You weren’t worried about him, oh no. Dave was honestly a super cool guy and even though your relationship had mostly focused on having fun and sex, you had both parted ways awhile ago on good terms and you hadn’t even considered that he probably still attended school here, as, if you remembered correctly, he would probably be graduating either later this year or early next year. It made sense why he was here, but what was going to not make sense was probably how jealous Ken would get if he found out that this Dave was the Dave he had already had a mild breakdown over.

“Holy….y/n?” He did notice, fuck.

You smiled and greeted him softly, knowing Ken could easily see everything but hearing might be a different matte- oh wait no, the room echoed.

“It’s so good to see you again!”

“You, too! I forgot you hadn’t graduated yet so seeing you is a surprise,” you said cheerily.

“A good surprise, right?” He chuckled and winked.

“For sure.”

He handed you a piece of paper. “This is today’s sign-in sheet. Can you start it and then pass it around?”

“Of course.” You took the paper from his hand and began scribbling your name down.

“Hey, this guy won’t stop looking at you.”

You looked at Dave then looked over your shoulder. Yep, of course Ken had noticed.

“Yeah, uh, that’s my boyfriend. He gets kinda fixated on something at times.”

“Like you?”

“That’s…accurate.”

Dave laughed. “I love it. He looks fun. I wish I could pull pink off as well as he does.”

You laughed a little then and smiled at Ken before turning your attention back to the sheet and passed it once you had finished writing your name and email.

Your phone vibrated against your hip and you pulled the phone from your pocket, already knowing who it would be. You had bought him a phone last week and he wasn’t usually on it very much but he was most definitely going to be using it during class now….

“Do you know him?” (Ken)

“Yes. Old friend. Just saying hi.” (You)

“Old fiend named Dave.” (Ken)

“Old friend, not fiend.” (You)

“Same Dave that I know about?” (Ken)

“And this is important because..?” (You)

“Because you’ll be in a class with him for three days each week for the next month.” (Ken)

“Yeah that’s how class works, Ken.” (You)

“I don’t like it.” (Ken)

“You don’t have to.” (You)

“What if he wants to study together?” (Ken)

“He won’t. That’s not how TA / student relationships work.” (You)

“But he still goes to class here? So he would want to study for another class.” (Ken)

“Baby I gotta put my phone away, they’re not really allowed to be active on during class. Don’t worry. You know I love you.” (You)

“Come sit with me, at least.” (Ken)

You had already silenced your phone and put it in your book bag before the last text got sent so you could focus on the lecture. Ken knew you hadn’t seen the last text and tried to keep his internal anxiety at bay.

He wished this awful man from your previous affairs wasn’t sitting in class, distracting every fiber of his being, because the lecture actually sounded interesting, especially since the teacher kept referencing a book called “Black Beauty,” which was apparently about a horse. Ken would have to ask you about it later, and definitely check it out of the library.

Ken noticed every little thing Dave did, as apparently the TA sat at the front of the class as well close to the teacher’s desk and facing the class. Ken set his jaw when he saw Dave subtly glance your way multiple times, and most definitely watched the one time Dave’s gaze focused just a *little * too long in your direction. Ken knew from personal experience was it looked like to fuck someone with your eyes.

Class wasn’t *that* long but felt like an eternity for Ken. The moment the professor dismissed everyone, he was by your side, picking up your book bag for you and holding you close to him by your waist.

“Hey baby. Did you like the lecture?” You asked, genuinely wanting to know since you had assumed he would have loved it, but were also attempting a distraction as you two were walking out of the room. You intentionally didn’t bid the professor or Dave goodbye, simply leaving the class like everyone else.

You cursed under your breath when Dave caught up with the two of you right as you were about to exit.

“Hey, man, I’m Dave.” He flashed a million-dollar smile and extended his hand at Ken. Thankfully Ken had become a little better at hiding his emotions due consistent socialization between your friends and working at the boba tea shop, but he could only keep his disdain for this man hidden so much.

Ken shook his hand but his blue eyes glanced at you, wanting to see your reaction to Dave standing so close.

“I have to get to my next class,” you said nonchalantly. “See ya next time.”

Dave nodded. “I look forward to it.”

You walked briskly out the door, knowing Ken would follow because he wasn’t about to release his grip on your waits, and the two of you exited the building into the day’s sunshine.

“I don’t like him,” Ken repeated.

“I know, baby. Listen,” you sat on a bench and Ken sat beside you, his leg pressing into yours. “I know this stresses you out, and that’s okay, but you can’t hold this over me.”

Ken’s eyes met yours, and you could tell he was trying so hard to maintain his anxious composure, to make sure you were happy with him.

You took his face in your hands. “I love you. I don’t care about Dave. I haven’t in a really long time. These flex term classes are short, but they’re intense. I have to be in every class and studying is going to take up a lot of my time, so I need you to understand nothing is going to happen between me and Dave.”

Ken nodded, but you could tell it was as if he felt like you had verbally slapped him in the face. You knew he needed more validation than you might be able to offer him for awhile, and despite how much that made you sad, you were also trying to set a boundary so the fact that you were attending this class wouldn’t be something that stressed *both* of you out every day.

“I don’t think that *he* is thinking that way,” Ken said, trying to hide the jerkiness in his voice.

“That’s not my problem to worry about. I won’t let him do anything to me.”

Ken seemed almost sheepish in his reply, as if knowing he shouldn’t say it but he couldn’t stop himself. “You promise?”

“More than anything.”

Ken’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he nodded. “Okay.”

You gave him a chaste kiss before taking your book bag from him. “I gotta get to my next class. I’ll see you at home, alright?”

He smiled and nodded as you walked away, and you felt irritated that he didn’t have work today. At least that probably would have helped distract and maybe even calm him.

Your phone rang right as you were about to enter an elevator.

“Hey, Ken.”

“Do you want anything from the store?”

“I’m good, thanks though.”

Ken’s chest grew tight again when he heard a now-familiar voice in the background of your phone.

“Hey, hold the door!” Dave called out.

“Don’t hold the door for him.” Ken had a lightning bolt of anxiety rip through him.

“Ken, it’s fine. I love you.”

“Don’t hang up, please.”

You had dropped your phone back into your book bag before hearing his last words, but unfortunately, your finger hadn’t tapped the End Call button hard enough, so the phone call remained on. The conversation was muffled, but not muffled enough to where Ken couldn’t make out every word.

“Sup.”

“I honesty don’t miss hearing you saying that,” you said lighting in a joking manner.

“Ahh!” Dave made a dramatic show of gripping his heart with his hand. “That hurt.”

“Knock it off, Dave.” Your voice remained light. He wished you had sneered instead.

“So how long you been with blondie? He legit gives off vibes that you captured him on the beach.”

“Is he a student here?”

“No, but we live together.”

“Ah, cool! I heard awhile back from Amber that you had moved off-campus.”

“Amber would be correct.”

“So, you two, uh, doing well?” Dave leaned into the elevator wall, shoulders hunching a little, trying to look relaxed.

“Very.”

“Cool, cool. Just asking.” There was a long silence until, “If you ever, like, need anything -“

“Thanks, Dave, I’ll let you know.” Ken knew you had smiled at him. He knew the sound of your voice when you did. Fuck, if only he hadn’t left campus and knew what building you were in.

Ken heard the sound of shuffling and he held his breath as he heard Dave’s next words.

“You look, like, really fucking good, y/n.”

“Dave -“

“You have just a little, uh, strand of hair -“

“I got it, thanks.”

“I could get it for you -“

“I’m good.”

“Fine,” Dave relented, and the elevator bell dinged, indicating you had reached your floor. Right before the doors opened, however, “You’re not planning on regulating that pretty pussy of yours to beach guy forever, right?”

For whatever reason, the phone call cut off then. Ken stood on the sidewalk, frozen.

He sat at home on the sofa that sat in the living room, facing the front door, willing you to walk in early despite knowing you never missed a class and that you were never home before 6:30 on Tuesdays.

He knew he shouldn’t but he had called you multiple times, every call going to voicemail. He knew you never answered during class, but fuck it, he had lost his will to care today. Sitting in the silence of the empty house only fueled his imagination.

The call cutting off because you had noticed it was still on, and Dave touching you in the elevator. You deciding to miss classes for the first time in your life to have him fuck you in his dorm room, doing whatever the hell Amber had subtly referred to. You laughing about him, for whatever reason, with Dave as the two of you lay in a naked, tangled heap.

The front door finally opened, Ken having lost track of time as he had stared at it, lost in his thoughts that had become more and more upsetting as the seconds ticked by. His attention was drawn back sharply as he heard the door close, and he realized he had been gripping both of his thighs tightly with his hands.

He must have looked as unhappy as he felt because your face immediately became concerned upon seeing him.

“Hey, Ken, are you okay?”

He was on you in a moment, rage tearing through him. “What did he do to you?”

You legitimately looked completely confused, having no idea he had heard the call, and also having zero guilt about anything having happening during the day.

“What are you talking about?”

“Dave. What. Did. He. Do. To. You.”

“What…how would he have done anything to me?”

“I heard you. And him. Your phone didn’t hang up.”

Ohhh. “If you heard it then you know nothing happened.”

“It hung up when he mentioned your hair.”

��He didn’t touch me.”

“Promise?”

“Goddammit, Ken, I don’t have to promise.”

“He tried, though. He wanted to touch you. He wants you to leave me.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s fair. That doesn’t mean- “

Ken picked you up roughly, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding your ass as he slammed your back into the door. “Mine.”

You whimpered as his teeth sank into your neck. You always internally battled on whether you should be firm with him and tell him to grow up or if you should encourage this behavior, and somehow the middle ground always won, at least for now.

“Ken, we’ve been over this,” you said, your own moan cutting you off as he sucked hard on your skin, bucking his hard clothed budge into into your panty covered core. You really needed to stop wearing short skirts so often.

“Mine,” he growled again, storming into the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, his chest flexing and puffed out.

“I fucking know, Ken,” you threw back at him before your back arched and you cried out, Ken having pushed your legs open and brought his hand down to spank your pussy. You saw stars as he did it again and you writhed underneath him as he pressed his hands into your hips, holding you down.

“Ken,” you whimpered again as he snuck two fingers under your panties, rubbing them back and forth firmly.

“You’re already so wet,” he panted, eyes on fire. “Were you this wet in the elevator?”

You visibly rolled your eyes but shut them tightly when his hand came down on your core again. You gripped his forearms in your hands when he dipped two fingers into your opening with ease, and you moaned loudly as he pushed them roughly deeper into you, immediately curling them into your special spot.

“Are you thinking about him right now?” He seethed, and you shook your head, unable to verbally reply through your moans, your head swimming with how sudden all of these sensations were.

“You’re only thinking about me?” He persisted.

“Yes,” you managed to squeak, his fingers quickening their pace.

“You’ll only think about me?”

You cried out loudly when he leaned over to wrap his hand around your throat as his hips leaned against his own fingers buried inside you, thrusting them into his hand so he could easily finger-fuck you harder.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Ken,” you choked out, your body already nearing shudders.

“You’ll prove it to me, then.”

Your legs began to shake a little, your walls clenching around his fingers. He could tell you were about to reach your peak.

“How long can you hold out on me? To prove you’ll only think about me because you’re so exhausted from begging for your release, staring in my eyes, knowing every single touch is coming only from me?” He pulled his fingers out of you then, and your eyes shot open, your body in shock from being suddenly ravaged to being denied its release.

“Oh, fuck, Ken.” Your head fell back into the mattress, already frustrated beyond belief. “Please, please -“

“Good girl. We’re off to a strong start.”

He flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your legs to hang over the bed so you were bent over for him. His hand came up between your legs to spank you again and the sharp sensation on your clit had you instinctively close your legs, your back arching as his other hand down your lower back down.

“Keep them open for me,” Ken warned, a shudder running through you at his tone.

You slowly began to do as he said when he nudged his legs between yours, opening them for him and keeping them open by planting his feet firmly on the ground.

His hand snapped up to meet your clit again and you gripped the sheets tightly as it came back for a third time, your legs beginning to tremble.

Ken had his plan - exhaust you, give you the most amazing orgasms of your life, maybe you wouldn’t want to go to class tomorrow, even though me know you would go. So, make sure every time you moved even the slightest movement that you’d feel him - make you sore, but just the right amount to where you’d try not to squirm in public but maybe you’d get wet from remembering how good he could make you feel.

You felt his hand that was holding you down remove itself from your back and he kneeled between your shaking legs, pulling your panties aside. You cried out loudly, your body in awe, as he pressed his full tongue into your clit, the warmth traveling all through your core.

Oh, fuck, you didn’t know anything could feel like this. Your nerves being so violently stimulated beforehand Made you be about to feel absolutely everything as his lips wrapped around your bud and sucked gently. He moaned into you when he heard the high pitched noise you made, very pleased with himself, and he gently held your hips as his tongue ravaged you.

“Holy fuck…Yes…aahhh…yes, Ken…oh…thank you, Ken…”

You could have cried when he pulled back, kissing up your spine then flipping you onto your back again.

You weren’t used to actually being edged. You had only experienced it once with, of all people, Dave. It had been fun but also absolutely mentally and physically exhausted you, and right now you were insanely frustrated, especially after feeling whatever that was.

“You should just let me come,” You huffed, looking Ken right in the eye as he brought the ties out from the drawer, his muscles clenching.

“Mmmm, maybe later.” He ripped your clothes off except your panties before grabbing one of your arms, deciding to tie you up differently tonight. Instead of tying your wrists together, tied your single wrist to the far side of the headboard. He straddled you as he reached for your other one and began wrapping the tie around -

“By not giving me my orgasm, you’re only encouraging me to think of Dave.” If he wanted to play jealousy games, fine. You’d fuel them then.

Ken gave you a dangerous look, his eyes darkening, waiting in silence for you to explain.

“So tie me up, edge me, then. Have your fun.”

“You know I’m waiting for you to finish that thought.”

“Mmmhmmm.” You tried not to grin up at him.

“So,” he slammed your wrist onto the bed above your head, lowering his face to hover above yours, “fucking finish it.”

You sighed with intention. “It’s just that, nobody has ever edged me before. Except Dave.”

You don’t think you could have explained the energy that washed over Ken in that moment if you tried. But you had won. If he was going to keep struggling with jealousy towards you, then you would make it work in your favor instead of stressing you out…at least for now. Ken was already too far gone when you’d come through the door to calm, so, hey…seeing what he’d cooked up in his mind wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

You felt your arm being jerked upward as it was securely fastened to the opposite side of the headboard, and you wanted to protest for the fun of it but you were actually tied up to where you couldn’t move your upper body, save for being able to lift your head.

“Looks like I have a little more work to do than I had originally thought,” Ken spat as he knotted the remaining ties around your ankles, also securing them to the foot of the bed so you were splayed out naked for him, unable to move.

“You better make this worth it,” You sighed again as if bored. “I’m supposed to be studying -“

You were cut off as you moaned loudly, Ken pulling the strip of your panties covering your heat to the side as his mouth clamped onto your clit, sucking hard. Ken’s mind was a rush of anger, of passion, of - goddammit, would this stupid fear of you leaving him actually ever leave him - and all he could see in his mind’s eye was Dave doing this to you, holding you hostage in your own bed, tasting your juices, feeling your perfect skin and muscles under his tongue, taking in your scent as you moaned and squealed and attempted to writhe despite your restraints.

He was so easily lost in you. He thought of untying you then, wanting to feel your hands in his hair, feeling the different tugs when he hit different areas of pleasure, holding your hips up to him in an almost bruising grip. But no, he had to remember his plans for you for now.

He felt dizzy as he licked thick stripes up and down, your vocal reactions becoming louder, and he lost track of time when he began to tongue fuck you, getting into a rhythm that was making you feel crazy as you got lost in the pleasure as well.

He pulled back only enough to speak, his lips still brushing against your folds. “Tell me how good I make you feel, y/n.” He dove back in immediately, desperate to hear your voice as he consumed you - it made him feel so warm and so hard, your breathy, often barely coherent words soothing his anxiety, making him get lost in you even more.

You didn’t reply, at least not with words. Your moaning continued for a moment then paused with another frustration huff from you when he pulled back again.

“Tell me how good I make you feel,” he commanded a little louder. Maybe you hadn’t heard him the first time.

You remained silent other than your breathing, which you were working to calm down.

“Tell me how good I make you feel,” he said for the third time, his voice betraying his anxiety when the last word ended on a note that sounded like a question.

He stood up when you kept quiet, leaning over you. “Y/n.”

You looked at him. “Yes, Ken?”

“Why won’t you say it?”

“Why won’t you stop being jealous over things that don’t matter?”

He hardened again then. “They matter to me.”

You stared up at him.

“You’re still thinking about Dave?”

“It’s honestly hard not to when you won’t stop talking about him, Ken.”

He growled. He couldn’t argue with that logic but he hated you pointing it out. He got off you and went back to the drawer and pulled out something you couldn’t see. He walked back to lean himself over you again, holding himself up with his forearm alongside your head.

“Fine, but I’m going to replace your memory of him denying your release with my own.”

You cried out loudly, your body shaking when you felt a strong sensation suddenly being shoved into your panties and pushed onto your clit. Ken held the vibrator on you, watching your reactions, loving how quickly you got lost in them, at how surprising overwhelmed you seem to become within the first few moments.

“You like this?” He breathed.

You couldn’t form words and answered with a string of noises instead, your head thrown back into the mattress as all of your limbs strained desperately against their bounds. Still leaning over you, Ken kissed your exposed throat, sucking ever so gently. He just wanted you to feel him around you.

He knew your orgasm was coming simply by the way in which your breathing was quickening and removed the toy from your panties, the buzzing noise filling your ears and mixing with the white noise swimming inside of them.

“Ken, please,” You started, your voice already sounding raw. He set the toy down on the bed beside you, not bothering to turn it off, so his hand could travel up your waist to your breasts as he kneaded one in his hand and began sucking on the other. Your body seemed to almost relax a little, thankful for the pleasure after having it taken away again.

“Remember when I said you’d have to beg me?” He mumbled around your hardening nipple, swirling his wet tongue around it.

You whined.

“That doesn’t sound like begging.”

“I shouldn’t have to beg for what’s rightfully mine,” you whimpered as his teeth sunk into your tender skin, pulling on the nipple ever so slightly.

Ohh. This was a new mood coming from you, but he loved it.

“Have it your way, then.” He watched you as he inserted the vibrator in your underwear again and you cried out, your entire body doing a delicious shudder, and he got up to straddle your waist. Your panties were snug enough to hold the vibrator against you so he could let go.

“You’re going to beg me, baby girl,” he said as he planted his hands above your head and slowly lowered his cock into your mouth. You moaned loudly, your arms and legs pulling against the restraints as best as they could as he slowly fucked himself into your mouth, watching the way your wet lips wrapped around him as you struggled with the pleasure the vibrator was giving you, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Fuck, he loved you.

He felt himself grow impossibly harder as he watched his clock disappear into your mouth again and again, your loud moans and tiny screams from the vibrator vibrating themselves around his member, and he shuddered. Your eyes flicked up to meet his and he melted, his hand reaching down to wrap in your hair not to hold you still but just to touch you.

He knew you were close again when those high pitched noises started emanating from your throat, and he pulled himself out of your mouth and removed the vibrator from your panties.

You screamed in frustration.

“Why?” You wailed.

“Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

Ken tore the area off your panties apart that covered your opening with his hands and you jumped, surprised. He left the top part intact though, and you cursed loudly, knowing why.

When he sunk his fingers back into you, you wanted to do whatever he wanted just to make sure he kept them there. Maybe you could hide your orgasm approaching…

Your body jerked in the minor ways that it could due to your restraints and Ken watched you, memorizing every way you twitched and moaned.

“Look at me, baby girl,” he cooed, and you did as he asked. “Such a good girl for me.”

“Please, Ken, please let me come this time.” Your voice was a little hoarse again.

“You know how to make that happen.”

“I’m begging, please, please.”

“That’s hardly begging at all.” He slowed his fingers down just enough to where they were caressing inside you, and once again somehow you felt every little movement. Your body felt like it was singing at the immense pleasure washing through you, and your head became so overwhelmed with it that you became completely lost, eyes closed, mumbling and moaning softly as Ken watched you. He’d have to remember to do this to you again, you seemed in absolute bliss.

He had planned to edge you further again with this one but now struggled with the idea. He didn’t know you’d react this beautifully to this, and fuck, you were a perfect angel splayed out so willingly for him, and your body has already taken so much…

Ken fingered your through your orgasm, your body shocked with the fact that it was finally being allowed its climax, and you cried a little as the best orgasm of your life overtook every fiber of your being.

His name escaped your lips in a gorgeous, exhausted whisper during the last few moments of your pleasure, and Ken’s heart danced.

He pulled his fingers out of you softly, your body limp, and climbed on top of you. He kissed you deeply, the back of his knuckled grazing your cheek bone.

“Thank you, Ken,” your words were swallowed by his lips.

“We’re not done yet.” His tongue dipped into your mouth and languishingly explored.

“I’m so tired, Ken.” Your voice cracked as he pulled away just long enough for you to catch a breath before consuming your lips again.

“Good. That’s how I want you to feel.”

“You went sex toy shopping?” Your giggle faltered as soon as it began, head resting itself on Ken’s as his mouth found your neck.

“Mmmhmmm. Which reminds me…”

“Oh, please, please, I can’t-“ You couldn’t form words again after the first few seconds of the vibrator being placed inside your panties again.

“Say my name.” You felt Ken’s hands reach between the two of you to unzip his pants.

“Ken,” you mewled.

“Again, y/n.”

“Ken,” your voice sounded on the edge of tears again.

“One more time.”

You screamed his name as he bottomed out into you with a single thrust, him holding his hips fully against yours without moving for a moment, groaning into your shoulder at how amazing you felt already clenching and spasming around his cock so so damn tightly from the sensations of the vibrator.

“Ohhhh, y/n.” He purred into your neck, remaining still within you, feeling as if you could push him over the edge just like this.

“Need…to…breathe…”

He kissed away a single tear as it rolled down your face. He pulled out the vibrator again, keeping his cock deep inside you.

You thanked him, gasping for air. “It’s…. it’s so much.”

“Mmmhmmm.” He nuzzled his nose into your hair.

How far could he push it? What was your cutoff point?

He pulled himself out of you then slowly thrust back in again, a strangled noise escaping your throat. He did it again, and again, maintaining this slower pace.

“You’re doing so well, y/n. My good girl takes me so well.”

Your lower lip trembled and he took it between his lips, sucking gently as his hips slowly picked up their pace. You made little kitten noises with every thrust, Ken’s head swimming with them.

“Need….it’s…too…”

Your mouth opened into a silent scream when you felt the vibrator placed back onto your clit, Ken’s hips still bucking into you.

“You’re going to be fine. Just a little bit longer,” He soothed. He reached up to untie one of your restraints, your arm falling onto the bed, and he intertwined his fingers with your own. He knew you were definitely nearing what you could take because your grip was almost non-existent, just barely closing around his hand.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed into your ear. “I’ll give you what you want if you-“

“Please.” Your blissed out, weary voice was barely a whisper.

“Good girl.”

“Please, please let me come, Ken.”

You climaxed just then, Ken forcing himself to not let his own happen as you tightened so effortlessly around him, calling out his name over and over.

You felt barely coherent as Ken untied you, your eyes closed, feeling your limbs one by one being returned to you. The vibrator was removed and turned off and Ken took off the remainder of the fabric that had once been your underwear.

You felt Ken wrap his arms around you gently, still on top of you, hips still nestled between your legs.

He kissed you deeply as he sunk his cock into you once more, your body shivering with cold sweat.

“Just one more time, y/n.”

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[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 2

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader; Word Count 3.4k

Warnings: Swearing, Sexism

A/N; Hi everyone! I am so glad you guys liked the first part! It was so much fun to write, and when someone asked for this to be multi-chapter, I just couldn't get it out of my mind. So here's another part! I have no clue how long this will be yet, but I do have a plot in mind. Please enjoy, have fun, much love , <3. - Mo

Eli and you made a pact to not tell the family that you now BOTH were working for one of the most feared men in the city. Eli would’ve been berated for an hour or two at best, thrown out at worst. You? One could only imagine how many years you would be locked in your room. When your mother and father asked about your interview and your new boss, you gave the prettiest pieces.

He is quite successful papa. The bakery is very large, easily 100 men employed!

Yes mama, I get my own desk, and I get Rosh Hashanah off.

Yes papa he is Jewish. Yes very respectable. No I don’t know what Temple he attends.

Yes mama Eli never left my side. And I suppose he is handsome. No mama I don’t know if he is married.

Your mother bustled about, checked all of your dresses and stockings, making sure they were all in perfect condition for your new job. She checked your bag of supplies possibly 30 times by the end of the night, just to ensure that you had everything you could possibly need, even things you may not have needed. A mother could never be too careful.

The next morning as you began to walk out of the door, your mother and father kept fussing over you, straightening your hat and sweater.

“Now dear since Eli’s shift does not start till later you will have to walk yourself ok? Be careful, don’t talk to anyone, you go right to the office yes?” Your mother reminded you for the umpteenth time.

“Yes mama of course. Straight to work.”

“And be on the look out for those awful gangsters poppet. The Peaky Blinders have been seen milling about town, and you know that God forsaken Solomons has his disgusting paws on every corner of the city.” Your father grunted out still drinking his morning tea.

You felt the tips of your ears warming. You hated to lie. You were so bad at it. “Of course papa. I’ll be careful, I love you! I might be home late, I’ll send Eli to alert you.”

You kissed them both and made your way down the street. Excited for a new start, and for what the day may hold.

It’s interesting how Alfie insisted on being at the office at 8, yet still had not shown up by 8:20. Thankfully Ollie had given you a tour of the distillery, shown you your desk (situated right in front of Alfie’s door) and given you the times of the meetings today. You had taken the liberty of starting up some tea on the small stove by your desk, and clearing out some of the crumpled paper strewn out across the floor. ‘Honestly for such a tyrant he really keeps this office unruly.’

You hear your name bellowed from outside the office, and you run out quickly. There you see Alfie, smiling at you. “Shalom my little viper! So you weren’t bluffing were you? Glad to see you aren’t as cowardly as Eli.”

You crossed your arms and you felt your mouth firm, “Shalom Alfie. You are late this morning and I have to talk to you about todays schedule. Ollie had to show me around the distillery and he informed me that you have 5 meetings today, FIVE! One of them is set to start in 20 minutes, and -.”

“Now now treacle hold your tongue, be sweet to me yeah? My back. Let get to work yeah?”

It was only then that you noticed the cane he was clutching. You immediately felt your chest become heavy, and guilt override. “Oh..Alfie I’m so sorry I didn’t know I-“

“Hush now pet don’t even begin to fuss. It’s just my back yeah?”

“What are you taking for it?”

Alfred just scoffed and rolled his eyes walking away from you and into his office.

“Mr. Solomons what are you doing to help your back!?”

“Be quiet woman! You want the whole town to know that Solomons’ got a bad back? Hush damnit! Now what is on the calendar? Who am I meeting with?”

“Well you have a Mr. Abrams coming in at 8:40. A Mr. Clochester at 10. Rabbi Rubin at 12. And a Mr. Shelby at 4. But you’re not seeing anyone until you-“

“Till I what huh? Till I what? Are you my mother? No! Now hush! Ollie! Get this woman a notepad now! Treacle sit there on that coach and be quiet!”

You just stared at Alfie, and you couldn’t help but feel shame and embarrassment. And Alfie was faring no better. He could see hints of tears threatening to spill, but your chin set firm, fists clenched. Alfie wanted grab you in his arms and… tell you he was sorry, but…

“Aw fuck… treacle… no you’re right. Treacle come please. What do you think?”

“Think about what Mr. Solomons?”

“Nah fuck that I told you Alfie. Tell me what you think I should do about these meetings and my damn back.”

"No not at all Alfie. If you don't need anything for the pain in your back then you don't. I'm just a woman right?

"Well now you're acting like a fucking child."

"Of course Alfie. Whatever you say Alfie."

You closed your ears off to what he was barking at you. Fine. If he wanted to suffer, he could suffer. It was far too early to fight with such a stubborn...beast of a man. And besides, you had things to attend to.

Despite the tiff this morning, the day went by smoothly. As smoothly as it can be in the distillery you supposed. Mr. Abrams left the room with a black eye and tears, promising he would never lie to Alfie again. Mr Colchester left more bloody than he came in. Rabbi Rubin was a delight, complimenting the tea you made, and scolded Alfie for not coming to temple recently.

Throughout the day, you could slowly but steadily see the stiffness working it's way up Alfie's spine. Though it didn't quite deter him from inflicting pain and vengeance on those who came in, you kept your eye in careful study. The small twitches of his eye. The rougher grunts when he got up from his seat, and the heavier footsteps as he walked around. You also noticed that he hadn't eaten all day, and when you asked about it he merely mumbled, "mmnot hungry''. But based on the way he quickly avoided your gaze when you caught him staring and the loud grumbling you heard at 3, you figured his resolve would have to melt soon.

At 3:45 you were at your desk, drafting out some letters Alfie had requested. It was while you were in deep focus, chewing on the tip of your thumb when you heard a soft cough.

Your head snapped up, and you were met with the iciest eyes you had ever set your eyes on.

Pretty.

That's the only thing you could think as you looked at the man in front of your desk. Clean shaven. Well dressed. The smell of tobacco and soap and...something secretive radiating off of him. You internally shook yourself out of you consideration of the man to finally say, "Good Afternoon sir, how can I help you?"

He smiled, in a soft way though you felt a rush in your chest, "My name is Thomas Shelby, I have a meeting with Mr. Solomons."

Oh. This is Thomas Shelby. Leader of THE Shelbys. "Oh yes Mr. Shelby I've been expecting you. You are a bit early, so if you could please sit. Can I offer some tea?"

He nodded, turning to the soft couch across from your desk, "Tea would be lovely, thank you love."

After serving him tea, you went back to work at your desk till the clock struck 4. At least you tried to. You felt those eyes all over you. You felt as though every muscle movement was being scrutinized. "Since when did Alfie get a secretary?"

"Today is my first day, he hired me yesterday."

Thomas hummed in understanding, looking out the window to your left, admiring the soft rain. "If I may be so bold, could I ask your name? I don't like not knowing who gave me tea."

You gave your name, looking directly into his eyes. He repeated it back, as if he was feeling out every consonant on his lips. Even though it was an innocent enough question, you couldn't shake the feeling that you needed to be on the offensive. As if he wanted something. "Where did he find you? You're far too pretty to be working for someone like Alfie."

"I found him. And I can assure you Mr. Shelby that my face had nothing to do with my hiring."

"As you wish darling."

As soon as he said it, you heard your name being called from inside Alfie's office. You quickly got up to meet him, and felt those eyes all over you.

Alfie looked horrible. His hair was sticking up in all directions, his vest and shirt were both half done, and he was scribbling away on some paper, "Oi, is that bastard here yet?"

"Mr. Shelby? Yes, he is sitting down waiting for you. I've just given him tea."

His head rose from his hands, and his thick brows were furrowed together, "The fuck did you give him tea for? He doesn't need tea, no he doesn't deserve tea!"

"Alfie you can have tea too if you ask me."

"No no no already told you I don't want tea. I don't want lunch. I don't want your help beyond taking the notes. I am a grown man damnit! Now for fucks sake, bring that damn bastard in here, sit on the couch, take the notes, and hush your mouth!"

He was teetering. This wasn't just being a gangster. This was a child who was fighting to take a nap. He was going to snap soon. So you just smiled cheekily, "Of course Alfie. I'll be right back."

You nearly skipped to the door. Alfie was growing increasingly frustrated, "AND TAKE AWAY THAT FUCKING CUP. NO ONE GETS TEA."

You did take the tea cup away from Mr. Shelby , and ushered him in, settling yourself down on your seat with your pad and pencil.

As Mr. Shelby settled in, he smiled and looked at Alfie, who was looking more and more disgruntled, "Good Afternoon Alfie. You look well."

"Fuck off Tommy. What do you want?"

"Yes the weather is quite dreary, but I am doing well thank you. But yes let's get down to it. Alfie...are you familiar with gaming clubs?"

In your opinion, this meeting should have taken 30 minutes at most. But you were going on hour 3 at this point. 7 o'clock and you were growing tired. You know Eli had already gone home to tell your parents you were held up. This was becoming ridiculous.

The idea was interesting enough. Gaming clubs have been an up and coming social house for the high society. Men (and their women) would gather in clandestine areas, playing cards, placing bets, drinking, doing snow, all types of things. But the real trade was information. Yes their main products would be successful in such places, but the information that would be dripping from loose lips would bring more power than they could get now. More than they could get in decades.

The only thing they disagreed on was the split ownership. Alfie offered a 90/10 split. And when Tommy refused Alfie was quick to pull his gun. And maybe you should have been afraid, but frankly you were too irritated with Alfie to care, or to believe this petulant act he was putting up. Your pad was almost filled with doodles, crossed out numbers and terms when they finally shook on it, you would write up the agreement in the morning.

As Tommy stood to leave so did you, and when he took your hand to shake it, he raised your knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss and giving a wink. Your eyes widened at his boldness. He smirked at your response, turning to Alfie again, "Love the new secretary Alfie. Definitely brightens up the place."

He turned back to you and tipped his hat to you, "See you soon darling."

Tommy sauntered out of the door, and Alfie stayed standing until the door closed and he heard his steps fade. It was then that Alfie nearly collapsed into his chair, hands rubbing his face, "Treacle come here."

You came and sat right back in the chair Tommy Shelby just occupied, "You want me to reread the agreement to you?"

"Nah I trust you got it. Just write it up tomorrow. But listen to me yeah? You do not go near Thomas Shelby. I know the young girls tend to fancy him but listen to me... that man is evil. He is not safe. And I don't want you caught up in his nonsense."

"He's evil yet you're doing business with him."

"I'm a bad man darling, but that doesn't mean you need to get wrapped up in it. Just say that you won't fratrenize with him alright? Or do you need to fight with me about this as well?"

You nodded, "I understand."

You just stared at him, waiting for him to dismiss you when you heard his stomach growl again, and his face twitch in pain, hand rushing to his back. "Are you ready to admit defeat Alfie?"

He scowled at you, "I don't know what you're talking about. Go home it's late, you don't need to stay."

You smiled, "If it's already late no difference is made at this point. But I'm not about to let my boss go home hungry and in pain... or go home without saying I was right."

He puffed out his lip, "There's nothing to eat here anyway."

"I brought you lunch. Beef, roasted veg, and bread."

He looked at you quizzicaly before you said, "Eli told me that Ollie told him that you haven't been eating recently. I just took upon myself to bring you something. There's also a muffin, but you will have to share."

You heard him say something about mutiny, but then told you to go fetch the lunch you brought him. You only brought enough for one lunch for him, but he ended up insisting you share with him, since, "You haven't eaten supper. It's not right."

Eventually, once his stomach was warm with a good meal, you got him to let you tend to his back. "What are you going to do hmm? Give me a strange draught your grandmother taught you that will make me vomit for three days?"

You laughed brightly, and he couldn't help but smile and stare at the way you threw your head back and laughed loudly. Deep in his chest he hoped that you would let him make you laugh like that forever.

"No you ridiculous man. My father was in the war, and he got shot in the shoulder. He lived thankfully, but he feels a deep pain like you do. The muscle tightens and he can't move. We get a hot rag, place it on his shoulder, and my mother needs to work out the pain."

Alfie felt a flush on his neck, "Well that would require me to take my shirt off darling."

You rolled your eyes, "For a gangster you act like a child. I won't tell if you won't Alfie. Now will you cooperate?"

In truth you hadn't thought that far into it. But it was pitiful to see him like this, and you can definitely be professional about this. Alfie shrugged and pulled off his vest and shirt, and you couldn't help but feel the heat rise, and not just from the hot rag in your hand.

You knew he was imposing, it was hard not to see him and hear him. But seeing the breadth of his shoulders, the width of his body and the hair on his chest made your cheeks heat up and your face freeze. Alfie caught your stare, smirking, "Now who's acting like a child?"

You rolled your eyes, and placed the rag on his lower back, hearing him hiss and try to relax into the heat. You began to work the knots out of his back when he asked, "Do your roommates know where you are?"

"My roommates are my parents, Eli, his parents, my little sister, my younger brother, and our grandparents. And they know that I am at work, helping my boss finish a business meeting. Eli told them."

Alfie nodded, "Do they... know where you work?"

You smiled, "They know that my boss is a respectable jewish man, who owns a large bakery that employs many many men, and that I get my own desk."

He snorted, "So you lied to them?"

"Not lie. Just...reframed it for them. Shall I tell my mother that I am the secretary of the fearsome Alfred Solomons? Or should I tell my father that I directly disobeyed his orders to stay away from Solomons boys, and went directly to the top?"

He laughed, "Alright now alright... so why this office? Educated girl like you can't work anywhere else? Unlikely, seems like you like being rebellious to me."

"Well... if you can believe it Mr. Solomons... my back talk does not do me many favors. Truthfully... Eli brought me here because you were my last chance at independence. It was either your office, or I would have to visit the matchmaker."

A silence washed over you, and you began to worry that you shared too much. "Well... I like that you speak your mind. Even if it drives me fucking nuts. Never give it up darling. You stay just the way you are alright?"

You smiled softly to yourself, "Yes Alfie."

A comfortable silence took its' place, and you eventually were able to work out all the knots from his back. You began to pack up your bag, and as Alfie redressed himself he asked, "Is Eli coming to pick you up?"

"No I don't think so. He is probably having to help with the tailoring, and he won't be able to step away. I'll be ok."

"Fuck no. You're a woman, you don't walk alone at this time at night, especially not here. I'm taking you home."

"You don't think women are capable of taking care of themselves?"

"No I know you could hold your own darling, but it is cold and I am not about to let you get hurt on my watch. Come we'll take the car."

The drive to your house was comfortable. You couldn't understand it. You had only met Alfie yesterday. And yet you felt as though you had known him for years. As if you never knew life without him. The whole ride you talked. From business for tomorrow, his childhood, his dog, your interests and what your opinions were on the business. You laughed and spoke the entire time, and it felt like no time passed. The car pulled up right to your door, and Alfie walked to your door to open it for you and help you out, "Alright watch your step treacle, still wet from the rain yeah? There you go darling."

You took his hand, and your breath hitched at the contact, his warm and rough hand covering yours. You looked up into his eyes, face partially obscured by his hat, "Thank you Alfie. You didn't have to."

"Of course I did. And it was no trouble. If you are kept in the office till dark, I drive you home yeah?"

You nodded with a smile, and he shook his head in affirmation, "It's a deal then. Now get inside you little viper, you'll catch a cold."

You began to walk to the door, turning around to say, "Goodnight Alfie."

He smiled, "Goodnight darling."

As you walked up the stairs to the home of your family, you couldn't help but run through the day in your head. Especially the end of it, smiling to yourself and feeling the rush in your stomach. You opened the door as quietly as you could, but heard you mother say, "Who was that in the car dear?"

[marchentraume]

Radio Omens Thoughts

General - 

First off, you can find the Radio Drama here uwuwuwu

The cast was 10/10 amazing, I love the audiobook but it was really interesting to hear how Neil and Sir Terry wanted everyone to sound before the show was even a thought. Dirk Maggs and Heather Larmour's Direction is so well done! I'm a huge fan of Hitchhiker's Guide so might try out his radio drama later...

The Them and Anathema are personal faves of the supporting cast so I’m always happy to get a new experience with those characters, Anathema’s gaydar going off the charts was perfect (“‘Angel’?” gets me good).

Just want to highlight Josie Lawrence as Agnes is perfect just like with the show, I’m so happy they didn’t change that after the radio drama, the adaptation made her so wickedly charming that I think was in the show but it goes by so fast with everything going on.

There are definitely parts in the book that are somewhat hard for me to get through, and I think the radio adaptation helped push those along a lot better. I do wish we got to hear the parts of Aziraphale spirit hopping around a bit before finding Crowley, but I just wanted to hear him talk more. Overall this is a good way to experience the book if you aren’t sure about reading it yet, or you’re like me and need help figuring out what it was I read in the first place. 

Aziraphale and Crowley -

No notes holy shit 20/10 casting, they’re only in the drama just about as much as the book which makes me sad but their scenes were absolutely burning with how flirty they were.

They are 100% already married here and comfortable with each other, the lull of their routine is only disrupted by Armageddon which is really annoying so now they have to do their jobs.

Aziraphale acting as narrator for some scenes was a good choice, blah blah something about reliable vs unreliable narrator Crowley (I just can’t put it to words right now oops).

Peter Serafinowicz your Crowley gives me so much gender it’s insane, also when he’s doing the nanny voice???? Hello????? I could have a whole chapter of him and Aziraphale during that time just chatting with each other and little Warlock.

I overall really loved the respective performances of Peter and Mark, both portrayed the two with this freedom of doubt and lots of mutual love. Crowley still wants to keep Aziraphale safe and he’s confident he can even as events get worse, the latter is stubborn knowing he’s right but confident that his demon will catch up and figure it out (even if begrudgingly so). They already have their happy ending, it can only get happier from here after they save the world.

I definitely recommend Radio Omens, it really is part of the golden triad of experiencing the story. 

My personal recommendation: Book, Show, Radio

If you have a harder time starting books (be it reading or listening) then: Show, Book, Radio

Next on my list is the audiobook with the show cast, but I’ll take a break for a bit since every time I read/watch the original story I get so worked up I need to calm down for about a month or so :’) 

What do YOU all think of radio omens? Please tell me or send me Radio Omens headcanons and opinions. I need them badly chomping at the bit here!

[anotheroceanid]

Before I (try) to take a nap, here it is: the first part of the next chapter (that hopefully won't end up as long as the previous one)

JASON

JANUARY 2028

NEW ROME

Even before getting some ribs broken, Jason was having a rotten day.

He started the morning with news of an earthquake nearby. The earthquake in question reached one of their depots of food, which meant that now they were cut short for the upcoming months.

Rome’s crops were near unproductive, their livestock was scarce and prone to sickness. There hasn’t been rain in a long time. Not ever since Jupiter, Jason’s father, had cursed the Greeks with a drought and Neptune, Jason’s uncle, decided it was fit to impose the same upon Romans, avoiding any water from getting in the sky and retrenching their access to fresh water through his influence on the river gods. The past year, hundreds of people have died of hunger, disease and dehydration.

A few hours later, a letter from the Mexican front was delivered to him. The fauns advanced in their territory. The Roman army struggled to stop them. Multiple soldiers died in the attempt, and just as many were now wounded, some permanently.

The Fauns Rebellion shrunk Rome’s army every day, there was nothing they could do about it. After they signed the armistice with the Greeks, their only choice to fight against the Nature Spirits was to accept mortals’ enlistment. While their enemies in the East could be starved to death, nymphs could endure months with only sun and water. Fauns weren’t as resistant, but that didn’t matter because their Lord of the Wild always found ways to help them, even from afar.

Though crowned Emperor of Rome by his peers, Jason couldn't think of someone more powerless than himself.

Jason spent his morning writing a letter to the Greek cities begging for food. Because that was the only thing he could do for his people in these times of need.

He crumples up a piece of paper and throws it in the pile of discarded letters. Jason did it a thousand times, and yet, he can’t really find the proper words. He runs his fingers through his hair and his beard, takes off his glasses and presses his eyes together hoping it'll help the thoughts come clear.

Asking the Greeks for help is pathetic. Beyond stupid, Jason also feels guilt. If anything, he should be looking for ways to apologise. Not that it would be worthy anything. What's the point of apologising for something unforgivable? At most, he’d come out as weak to the Senate, and his enemies would use the opportunity to eat his liver.

Although Jason might’ve learned to live with remorse, his fellow Romans didn’t learn to leave with hunger. So, he picked another paper and started again. For every word he managed to write, Jason heard Annabeth of Perses telling him to go fuck himself. Well, better her saying such a thing than Piper, the thought made a shiver go down his spine. That woman creeped the soul out of his body, in a way not even the Vipera Graeca and her deadly poison could do.

Once he finishes his letter, Jason stares at it with a numbing acknowledgement that soon he won’t have to beg for food anymore. At any time, the war that decimated most of North America would restart. Rome would burn. With the Greeks courtesy, Jason would be alive to watch, surely. How else could he expect his debt to be paid? Though, Jason ponders, I might destroy Rome myself, will it be a favour or a slight for the Greeks?

The walls of New Rome were too thin to protect its citizens forever. How longer before truth would rushes in? How was Jason supposed to fight against it? For now, New Rome was safely unfamiliar to the horrors outside their gates. The people didn’t need to know everything. How, despite how bad things were in the city, it was much worse across the rest of the Roman Territory.

Jason’s job was to keep them ignorant. To try to get things better outside. Win the war against the Greeks.  He was bound to become thrice a failure. Only thrice? How optimistic.

For what felt like the thousandth of times, Jason begged the Greeks to feed his people so the day would come when the Greeks would have more than corpses from who to take revenge.

With this happy thought, Jason sends his letter.

Next things Jason does, is dig his face on his hands and moan loudly in absolute despair. What a way to start the year…

‘I can’t even say there isn’t any way this can get worse…’ Jason mumbled to himself.

His door was slammed open. Reyna arrived in a rush. ‘Octavian’s house was attacked!’

… Because of course, it can.

[mavrintarou]

[3:45PM] Suna Rintarou (prequel of DD) [3]

I started a part-time job so my writing and posting will slow down tremendously. Hopefully, I'll get inspired lol. If you are new, this is the 3 part, please go back and read the initial post, and prequel - parts 1, and 2. You can find those chapters here

Warning: none, angst/hurt & leading to comfort Note: There is a time jump, hopefully, I don't confuse you guys

Prequel (part 2)

.

Rin realized he found himself watching Y/n sleep more often than usual. He never understood romantic films where the man watches the girl sleep, often thinking how creepy they were.

He didn’t care that at the moment he was doing the same thing, watching Y/n sleep like a little creeper. All that mattered to him was seeing Y/n asleep beside him safe and sound.

Rin still could not believe the wild roller coaster he and about 300 other passengers went through less than 72 hours ago.

It was one thing to be surprised to discover that Y/n was the pilot of the plane he was flying to Thailand for a tournament.

Four months ago, he would have waved at her like a hopeless romance and shown everyone they were lovers.

But it has been four months since Rintarou broke everything off with Y/n.

Everything has been a mess since that day and nothing was going right.

With each ticking second his conscience questions whether he made the right decision. Was it impulsive or was he right?

All he wanted was to make them official, he wanted the right to call her his girlfriend and show her off. He also wanted her to take him home to her place.

He wanted a home with her.

But he got the sense she didn’t want to share much of her life with him. 

He began questioning her about when she would cancel plans or tell him she would no longer be coming home that day and be gone for days on end without communication.

He respected her busy career and work schedule, but he couldn’t help but feel left out of her life.

They had been seeing each other for almost four months, he was ready for the next phase and thought they were both on the same page.

When he initiated and asked her to be his girlfriend, she did not consider his request, immediately turning him down.

“I’m sorry… I can’t… I thought you understood, Rin?”

Like a light switch, anger consumed him. He threw the comforters off and stalked naked around his room to search for his boxers. “Understood?” he mimicked her tone, he wiped towards her with hurt and pain written on his face. “What is there to understand when you don’t tell me anything?”

“What do you mean? I tell you when I’m done with work, I make time on my off days to meet with you. What is it, Rin? What is it that you want?” Y/n kept her voice leveled, not wanting to meet his energy.

“I want you!” he shouted, throwing his hands up, “I want you to be mine, Y/n.” He inhaled sharply, “I want everything there is out there to want. I want to know where you are at all times because I can’t help but be anxious you might be with someone else when you are not with me. I want to know what you are thinking about and if I even cross your mind at all because you are always on mine. I want to tell every damn hot-blooded male out there you are mine, fuck – even the women too because you’re fucken amazing.” His breath shook as he slowly took a deep breath. “I want to not have this terrible feeling that I’m not good enough for you…” he choked, “I feel like I’m being childish, wanting you to only look my way, wanting you to only want me… want you in every way possible. But I feel like it’s one-sided…”

He felt foolish pouring out his childish feelings. He couldn’t even look at her at this point.

To make matters worse, Y/n hadn’t spoken a word. She had not attempted at all to assure him that she too wanted him.

“I think we should end this, it is obvious you do not feel the same way for me,” he muttered, “please see your way out.” He turned his heels and headed straight to his bathroom.

When he came out after a hot bath almost an hour later, she was gone, every trace of her gone.

He stared out the air plane window, zoning out until something was held in front of him, a paper bag.

“Our captain has asked me to deliver this to you.” The young flight attendants informed with a smile.

Rin accepted it and opened the bag.

It was snacks he and Y/n enjoyed eating together. At the bottom of the bag was a piece of paper inside.

I hope you have been well.

He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He missed her dearly.

Reaching for his bag, he began searching for stuff he could give back to Y/n. “Excuse me,” he called the flight attendant, “do you have pen and paper?” She returned with the items he requested.

As he was about to signal the flight attendant again, the plane suddenly jerked and trembled violently before it suddenly veering sharply to the left, causing standing passengers to lose their balance.

Y/n’s voice came over the intercom with a vague announcement, immediately ordering all passengers to fasten their seatbelts.

Rin could not mistake the uneasiness in her tone and nor did he miss the looks on the flight attendants' faces as they quickly shuffled around, making sure all passengers followed the announcement.  

Quickly fastening his seatbelt, unknowingly holding his breath.

Talk to me Y/n, Rin silently prayed to himself.

No one could have anticipated encountering a situation typically happening only in films. The lights inside the plane started flickering, and the aircraft continued to sway as if struggling to remain airborne. This prompts passengers to demand an explanation.

Rin looked down at his watch and began counting.

It was the longest five minutes of his life before he heard Y/n’s voice.

“This is your pilot Y/n, we will be making an emergency landing shortly here in Singapore, please remain seated and keep your seat belt fastened until further notice.”

Thirty minutes later, the plane landed on the tarmac and moved towards the many flashing vehicles.

At last, an announcement was made, except this time it was not Y/n’s voice. “This is your co-captain speaking, I sincerely apologize for the sudden change and inconvenience. There has been an emergency medical situation and I ask everyone to please remain seated until further notice. Another announcement will be made as soon as you can exit the aircraft, there will be gate agents ready to assist and get you on the next flight to Thailand.”

Outside of the aircraft ambulances and other medical services were waiting outside.

Rin’s eyes widen as he catches a glimpse of Y/n rushing alongside the stretcher that is being hauled into an ambulance.

.

Rin and his team boarded the next flight to Thailand. His mind remained clouded and hazy as he awaited Y/n’s text response, any response from her. During the game, he found himself sidelined for most of it, as his coached noticed his lack of mental focus. The moment EJP Raijin was declared champions, Rin rushed to the locker room to check his phone.

He has never been so relieved to see her name on his screen.

I’m in Thailand at XXX Hotel. Dinner?

.

“Usually, on long flights lasting 6 hours or more, there are three pilots, but this time, there were four due to the larger aircraft. It was my co-pilot’s and my turn to swap and rest. Thirty minutes after falling asleep, I heard him call my name, gasping that he was experiencing chest pains,” Y/n recounted, rubbing her face with her hand as she relived the moment. “He was having a cardiac arrest,” Y/n pushed the food on her plate around, not having much of an appetite. She described how she administered CPR to her colleague while simultaneously giving commands to the other pilot to request an emergency landing. “An as if that wasn’t challenging enough, we flew into a flock of birds that caused one of our engines to blow out,” Y/n explained, her expression reflecting extreme fatigue as she recount the situation on the plane. “The plane got out of control so I had to quickly switch and gain control in the air until we landed in Singapore.” She smiled tiredly at Rin, “he’s okay if you’re wondering.”

“That’s good, but are you okay?” Rin cared more for her well-being than the others. He too lost his appetite, pushing his food around. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m just… exhausted. It’s been a long four months…” she tightened her fingers around his. “Long four months of training and… without you.”

Rin could only maintain eye contact with her in silence before softly inquiring, “what are you trying to say…?”

“I’m saying that I have missed you, Rintarou. I have missed you every single day,” Y/n answered earnestly.

A deep sigh escaped from his lips, as though he had been holding it in for quite some time before they curved into a smile. “I missed you too,” he admitted.

.

In the brief period he’s known her, she has consistently been a sound sleeper, likely due to her hectic work routine.

But at this moment, he could tell she was deeply asleep as she didn’t stir when he shifted himself so he could hold her. His heart rate eased as she nestled closer into his warmth. The tip of her nose pressed lightly against his nipple, erecting his nub as she unconsciously rubbed against it.

He hist softly, cursing silently in his head. Counting backward from one hundred, he distracts his mind with other thoughts to distract himself.

He found it hard to grasp the reality of her presence beside him. After dinner, there was no way he was going to part from her.

He held on to the end of her shirt like a lost puppy, “stay with me.”

Y/n reached for his hand, holding it tightly, “I’m so tired, I’m ready to fall asleep on my feet.”

“Your place or mine, I don’t care, your call.” Rin stepped closer and cupped her cheek, “I just want to be wherever you are.”

They came back to hers. Rin noticed her small luggage and a handful of her belongings spread out on the desk.

Y/n began stripping her clothes off, leaving only her panties and sports bra on. Rin could feel his face heat up as he turned away.

“I’m just getting comfortable, don’t worry I won’t take advantage of you,” she teased, slipping into the bed. “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to get in?”

He stripped down to his boxers briefs and slipped in, he might as well get comfortable with her too.

“Are you afraid I’ll bite you? Why are you so far away from me? Are you lying about missing me?”

Y/n was tugged into Rin’s arm as they tightly locked around her. “I would lie about many things but missing you isn’t one of them.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, “sleep, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“Rin.”

He hummed watching her close her eyes before she whispered, “I like you.”

Minutes later, her breathing steadied, and she relaxed in his embrace. Rin couldn’t pinpoint when he started noticing the small intricacies about her. Like the tiny beauty mark at the outer corner of her left eye, or how her green eyes occasionally shifted to yellow in the sunlight. He observed how her eyes crinkled when she smiled widely and how she would quickly use a hand to cover her smile. He longed to reach out and smooth the wrinkles on her forehead when she was deeply focused on something.

He found himself missing her every second of the day whenever she wasn’t by his side, and every little thing seemed to remind him of her. Whether it was spotting someone with the same shade of green eyes or hearing or seeing an airplane in the sky, thoughts of Y/n would flood his mind.

Every little thing about Y/n came down to one thing, he was hopelessly in love with her.

.

For the past five minutes, Y/n had been observing the man sleeping beside her. She couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes and how he seemed to have lost weight, his cheeks appearing sunken.

She had noticed her weight loss and general disinterest since their fallout, believing she was the only one suffering. As her fingers lightly brushed his bangs aside, she pondered whether he, too, might have been enduring similar struggles.

After she left his place that day, regret weighed heavily in her heart ever since. She has never felt rejected and hurt as much as Rin telling her to leave his place.

She distracted herself with work, taking on additional shifts until one day she was greeted by someone she least expected, her old boss, the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Specialty Force.

“We need you to come back,” was the first thing he said. “We have a project and you are the only one who can lead it and carry it out.”

Pursuing aviation had always been Y/n’s passion and dream, so joining the military straight out of school seemed like the optimal choice for her. In a sense, she was achieving two goals at once: pursuing her passion while also upholding the long-standing family tradition of military service spanning decades.  

A year ago, she would have eagerly accepted the mission, always eager for a fresh challenge. But now, she found herself struggling to find her voice. Accepting the mission meant being away for an extended period – ranging from at least six months to two years or more.

Y/n couldn’t understand why she was hesitating.

A part of her was her pride.

She is reminded of a painful past incident that had her dismissed with an uncharacterized discharge. After she returned to the civilian world, she was pulled into commercial aviation to maintain a part of her passion.

But that wasn’t it either.

At last, Rin’s face came to her mind.

Everything has changed since she met Rin.  

He was only meant to be a distraction. Their relationship was never meant to have gone this far or deep.

She wasn’t supposed to care for him, let alone, formed a bond with him.

Her time in the military and her specialized field compelled her to prioritize her duty over settling down, understanding that investing in something that might only lead to heartbreak was not in her best interest. Even in her current time, she was always on the go, never settling in one spot for long, she was convinced a relationship wouldn’t survive if one partner was always gone.

This is why she steered clear of committing to a relationship or remaining attached to someone for an extended duration.

Y/n had refused to acknowledge her feelings for Rintarou. She viewed their interactions as mere entertainment whenever she was back at home. She enjoyed his pursuit and the undivided attention he gave her. She has never had anyone give her as much attention as Rin had. At first, she believed it was because he was younger than her and was infatuated with the thought of chasing and finding interest in an older woman.

However, as they spent more time together, the hours slipping by unnoticed, she gradually found herself caving into him, basking in the warmth of his arms and feeling her heart beat in sync with his.

She had never yearned for someone’s company as intensely as she did for his. Simply being in his presence was sufficient to make her feel at ease and rejuvenate. He filled a void in her life that she hadn’t realized existed.

Her heart and mind started yearning for every detail about him. In a crowded place, she’d catch a glimpse of men similar in height, instantly reminded of him. The sight of the color yellow would remind her of his eyes that glowed whenever they locked with hers. She began following his volleyball team to stay on top of updates about him and his professional life.

She thought she was the only one who was feeling these aftereffects.

Therefore, it was a hasty choice on her part to accept the mission, driven by the desire to distract herself from him and put physical distance between them.

She was simply a coward who was hopelessly in love with him.

. . .

E/n: I'm happy to explain anything you might be confused about, or hopefully my next part will explain/answer it.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[duplicityvn]

Welcome to Duplicity!

Below you’ll find links to tags and the new itch page (once part 1 releases; tags will be added as they’re posted). You’ll also find some general information about the game and what to expect from here on.

As per usual, this is a yandere game with dark themes and twists. It will feature an optional NSFW toggle, and it is not safe for minors. Minors DNI with this blog or the game.

Game development, art, & writing: me, @indycinders

Draft editing and Ideas Chief: @winndycakes

Game Summary:

It’s been several years since you’ve been home, and a lot has changed. After failing to meet the strict deadlines of your former publishing house, your contract was terminated and you were left to fend for yourself. Once a prolific and popular author of romance and adventure stories, you’re now forced to move back home to live in your best friend’s apartment as their roommate. Struggling to figure out the next book in your series, you’re faced with many life-changing events, such as having to go back to work a customer service job you thought you’d left behind.

As you navigate this new chapter in your life, you’ll meet friends, old and new, and perhaps finally experience your own romantic tale… Just don’t trust everyone you meet.

Art/Important Info:

Griffin Profile, Shipping memes

Tris Profile

Tag List:

#duplicityvn - general tag to encompass everything

#duplicitydevlogs - tag for dev-specific posts like progress and updates

#duplicity asks - tag for asks submitted to the blog

#duplicity griffin - Griffin specific tag

#duplicity tris - Tris specific tag

#duplicity taipan - Taipan specific tag

#duplicity dell - Dell specific tag

#duplicity nina - Nina specific tag

#duplicity savoy - Savoy specific tag

#duplicity riley - Riley specific tag

#duplicity melon - Melon specific tag

#duplicity mags - Mags specific tag

#duplicity all - general tag when everyone is involved in one post

#duplicity lore - tag for lore related to characters or settings

#duplicity AU - tag for AU posts and some silliness

#duplicity memes - tag for memes/silliness/etc.

Here’s some potential questions I might get that I’m proactively answering now:

Why was the old blog deleted?

-I had a bad experience in the community and wanted to remove myself from it completely. I also had no idea where the game direction was going. Honestly, it started out with me wanting to make a yandere game with no understanding of what was going to happen really.

Why are you continuing with Duplicity?

-Duplicity originally stemmed from vague ideas about a horror romance I had started writing three years ago. Really, only some of the character names were similar. Once I started to feel like I wanted to come back and resume with development, I knew it needed a complete overhaul. So I went back to that old story and started piecing it together so it would work for a visual novel!

What changed and what can we expect?

-In the original demo, the game’s MC was around 20 years old. This has changed to player preference of anywhere between 25-30. Why? Because I’ve been wanting to see older characters in yandere visual novels, and just in VNs in general. I also don’t feel comfortable writing younger characters anymore. The characters’ ages will change depending on yours as well, which will be explained later. The only characters who have set ages are Mags and Melon.

-Speaking of characters, Sophie is no longer part of the story. I didn’t think about it at the time but I don’t want a minor to be included in this story when she’s not directly related to anyone, like a sister or a niece or something. In her place are several new characters: Nina, Savoy, and Melon.

-The game will be released in 3 parts instead of on a day-to-day basis. Part one will be mostly introductory but lengthy, part two will probably be the longest, and part three will mostly be focused on the endings of each route.

-The game will have more than just Griffin’s route. There are currently 9 endings I’m in the process of planning.

-As of the publishing of this post, everything previously known to the game is no longer canon, except for a few things.

What kind of asks can we send?

-Asks pertaining to the game and its characters and settings are all completely fine. In fact, it’ll probably help me develop the characters even better.

-NSFW asks are allowed! While there might not be NSFW in the base game (still juggling around the idea of a paid NSFW version), I am happy to write little fics if people are wanting them. I love writing, give me prompts!

-Hateful, derogatory, or other such topics that are sent to this blog will not be tolerated nor published. I wish to promote a safe space for everyone, and I won’t pay attention to any negativity.

-Silly and nonsensical asks are also allowed if they aren’t negative in context.

Alright this was long lmao but I hope it encompasses the general idea of what to expect from here on out! I’m not putting myself on a publishing schedule and I will update as frequently or as little as I do. I’m an anxious bean and can only do so much.

[justagalwhowrites]

Some insight

Hi Besties!

I hope everyone is having a wonderful week and that life is treating you well! I'm going to stash the rest below the cut because it's just some of me kind of blathering about my life for a bit and how that might impact posting and I feel like it's just awkward and long and I don't want to make anyone feel like they need to read it? I dunno. I love you though!

Hi again! I wanted to let folks know that, because of some big changes in my work life, I might be posting less for a bit.

I'm trying to get my life into balance but it's hard. They've started a new cadence of in person work at my office and I have a long commute (which I didn't really factor in when I got this job 3+ years ago because they said we'd likely only ever be in one day a week at most in the future and now I need to be in the city an hour away at 8:30 a.m. three days a week.) I really should not complain, I know there are plenty of people who work harder jobs for less money that are always in person BUT it's already been a huge hit to my quality of life. Just trying to get through laundry this week is stressing me out. Normally, I do it in the middle of my work day because I can move the wash around between meetings and then put it all away at the end of the day or the next day during lunch. I've now been doing laundry since Monday. I hate it. I'm tired all the time, I'm emotionally exhausted because - while I am a corporate girlie - I work in comms and PR, so there's definitely a certain expectation for attitude and how I present myself. I get home from work and I'm just burnt out and I feel like I have no time. On top of that, I'm getting less quality time with my husband (we used to have lunch together most days during the week since he's fully remote) and my office is very "modern" AKA no privacy, so I don't really feel comfortable writing there, taking away the break time I used to use to put some words down.

I'm hoping that I'll find a groove (or another job that lets me be fully remote) sooner rather than later and I can settle into what life looks like for me now and I'll stop being so drained and just frustrated at the end of the day.

Ultimately, I'm HOPING I can find a posting schedule that works for my two ongoing fics where I publish a chapter of each every week and maybe a drabble or one shot here and there, too? But it may need to be only one chapter a week going up or who knows.

I'm not sure yet. I'm just tired. And I have to get up and do this again in the morning and I'm genuinely dreading it.

But I am working on a few things. I'm hoping I can get something up on Friday and something else this weekend.

I'm sorry for not being more consistent, especially lately but also just in general not keeping pace with where I was at like a year ago when I was writing Lavender and Beskar Doll. I appreciate you still being here.

Love you ❤️ very very much!

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 24

why did this chapter kick my ass?? damn!!!

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

soz for the unexpected delay i was moving + starting a new job + lost my grip on byakuya's slippery psyche

playing with my own headcanons for hiro and his backstory actually. bc. well. the original just is not very good at all now is it

tyyy @digitaldollsworld as always!!

Content warning tags: blood, mention of razor (not in intentional self-harm context), minor injury, nausea, panic attack, toxic obsessive stalker Toko, insecurity, mentions of self-starving

< previous - from start - next >

Byakuya drops his straight razor, and it splashes into the basin of his sink. Followed by a few droplets, hot and ruby-bright as it tracks down his jaw, vanishing almost instantly upon contact with the water.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, frozen, one hand still half-raised to his face, still curved in that loose grip. Then he braces his hands against the porcelain edge, knuckles tensing as he tries to keep them from shaking. The cut on his jaw stings, still slowly welling blood; his razor, silver and distorted, warbles in and out of sight with the water’s ripples, his eyes struggling to track its shape. He makes no move to fish it out of the water.

This was his second attempt at shaving. The evidence of his first attempt still throbs on the opposite cheek, near his ear. Despite moving glacially slow, other hand pulling the skin as taut and still as he could manage, the hard edge of the sink digging into his hip as he leaned as close to the mirror as he could, it was still proving to be a fruitless effort. The elegant blade that his mother’s family had gifted him, that he had been using since he became heir, was now simply too large and awkward for him to use. A task that should have been easy after all of Pennyworth’s guidance was now fraught with pointless danger.

…Maybe it’s not worth the trouble, he thinks, numbly. But the hollow, shattered defeatism that comes with the thought is so unfamiliar that it makes him grit his teeth, and then reach slowly into the tepid water to pull the razor out. His stubble was patchy already, especially near his jawline, and any more delay would almost certainly warrant someone commenting on it - maybe Hagakure, who couldn’t seem to keep anything to himself, or Celeste, who would delight in pointing it out while masking it as polite concern - but, at the rate he was going, he was going to draw more attention with a bloodied face.

His fingers scrape the basin, searching at a glacial pace until the edge of his thumbnail taps against the handle. He draws it out gingerly, shakes off the stray droplets, then wipes the blade with a silk cloth. Drying it carefully, meticulously - as Pennyworth had taught him, ‘it’s as good as useless if it rusts’ - before folding it and replacing it in the cupboard behind his mirror. He dries his face with the towel hanging around his neck, ignoring the way the Turkish cotton scraped against raw skin.

I could always just try again later, he reasoned with himself. Not so much as a surrender as it was a tactical retreat; and the results were bound to be better when he was calmer, more composed. He could still do it - he just needed some time.

And as for anyone who might notice it…

…Well. It wasn’t like he was spending much time around anyone else these days anyways.

—

Even if he wasn’t trying to seek out anyone else’s company, he couldn’t help but take note of their own routines, how they settled into their lives after feeling the world shake around them. 

It doesn’t surprise him that Celeste and Yamada have continued on as if nothing had happened at all. Celeste still maintains her airy simulacrum of a mysterious princess, occasionally inviting Byakuya to tea or dinner or a game of Othello, which he declines each time. Yamada, when he wasn’t offering himself up to be bullied and ordered around by her, would be in the newly-opened art room, and Byakuya could occasionally pass by to hear sounds of shuffling paper and the scrape of pens, and the harrowed, heavy breathing of a man possessed.

Ogami and Asahina are similar, returning to their athletic routine, though clearly more affected by the deaths of their classmates. They were attached at the hip before, but now Byakuya never saw one without the other, always in each other’s company, often holding hands - if Ishimaru were here, he might have decried it, ‘No PDA in the hallways!’ in that annoyingly shrill, school-bell voice - once, Byakuya had even overheard the two of them occupying the bathhouse together, when he had passed by with the intention of checking on Alter Ego’s laptop.

(He’d left quickly when he realized what they were doing, leaving the locker unchecked, his face hot and uncomfortable. It was all well and fine for them to cope how they pleased, but couldn’t they have some more decorum about occupying a public space? He was almost beginning to miss Ishimaru.)

…Speaking of Ishimaru. Even Mondo had found something to occupy his time with, these days.

It seemed that after that night with Alter Ego, something had shaken loose inside him, and he was an entirely new person. In some ways, he was even more troublesome than when he was depressed and languishing; loud, piercing, and always appearing when he was least expected, or at least it felt that way to Byakuya. Somehow materializing nearby, demanding to know what you were doing, why you weren’t adhering to some vague, obscure rule that he might’ve made up on the spot. An overgrown hall monitor that acted like every little infraction could mean life or death.

(It was all in the name of protecting the AI, but it was also getting on everyone’s nerves, and it almost made Byakuya regret ever involving himself in the biker’s business in the first place.)

Makoto and Kirigiri were doing whatever it was they were doing. Byakuya rarely saw them, and when he did, he never made any attempt to speak to either of them. It didn’t make much of a difference from his previous dynamic with Kirigiri, but with Makoto, it was almost like a repeat of what had happened just after the first trial. But this time, Makoto never made any attempt to approach him.

Which was perfectly fine by him. Regardless of Makoto’s intentions, his betrayal was unforgivable. There was no reason to associate with him any longer.

And lastly, there was Hagakure.

It’s not clear if the self-proclaimed clairvoyant had given up on Mondo, given the overnight change in personality (at the very least, there was no more need for a suicide watch anytime soon), but he seems to have latched on to Byakuya, for no clear reason. Frequently calling out to him whenever they crossed paths, dogging in his steps like a very determined stray. Chattering incessantly, even when Byakuya refused to deign any of his ridiculous stories with a response, often trying to herd him into the cafeteria so they could “lunch together, bond, maybe share a cup of joe? Even rich guys like joe, right?”

“...Did you mean ‘coffee’,” Byakuya replies in a flat, deadpan tone that was more resigned than irritated, during what must be the dozenth time that Hagakure had intercepted him, and maybe the third time he conceded to the other man’s insistence; if only because Hagakure had been particularly persistent recently, and would probably end up following him and broadcasting to Fukawa or Monokuma or anyone else exactly where Byakuya was seeking refuge, when not in his room.

(Not to mention that he was a little hungry himself, though he could only imagine the kind of common swill someone like Hagakure might consider coffee.)

“Hey man, to-MAY-toes, po-TAY-toes, right?” Hagakure just shrugs, and half-guides, half-pushes Byakuya by the shoulders into the cafeteria.

It’s midday. The place is empty, with even Celeste missing from her favored spot at her table. Hagakure shuffles him into the kitchen, tells him to wash his hands, and then-

-shoves two things at him. One, round, pale brown and still damp, with a slight papery texture beneath the moisture. The other, a piece of smooth, green plastic shaped like a ‘T’, with something silvery running parallel to the top. He skates his thumb lightly over it, and finds the edge of it sharp; a tiny blade.

“Whoa, careful! Don’t hurt yourself!” Hagakure tugs the tool back out of his hand, inspecting his fingers. “Like, come on. I even gave you the vegetable peeler, this is easy mode.”

“...What?”

Hagakure doesn’t explain right away, instead occupied with rolling up his sleeves, tying the brambled mass of his hair back with a strip of white. Arranged on the kitchen counter is a selection of tools, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and a hunk of something dark and pink, occupying the cutting board. There’s already a pot on the stove, and Byakuya watches Hagakure’s hand fiddle with some dark, invisible button across the top of the oven, and a telltale blue flame clicks to life. “We’re making gumbo! And you’re my assistant for the day.” He announces, with the same cadence of a cooking show host. He’s beaming, as if he hadn’t just said something utterly, completely insane.

“...What.”

It’s hard to make out, but he swears Hagakure rolls his eyes at him. Which would be infuriating enough to comment on, if he wasn’t also holding out the aforementioned vegetable peeler out, handle first, towards him. “Gumbo. It’s kinda like, curry I guess? But it’s a lot more soupy.” Apparently not put off by Byakuya’s unresponsiveness, he pushes the peeler into his slack hand. “I mean, I guess I’m not surprised you haven’t tried it. It’s not Japanese, or like…fancy, rich guy food.”

That snaps him out of it. “What,” He repeats, emphatically, with feeling. “Do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, like I said, making gumbo-”

“No, I mean-” Byakuya waves the objects in his hands, and feels only a little ridiculous in doing so. “I’m not- using these.”

Hagakure winces at that. “...No offense, Toga, but, uh…” He hesitates. “It’s…not exactly a good idea to give you a knife right now, you feel me?”

Byakuya can imagine his eyes tracing down his face, to the still-pink line on his jaw from this morning, and feels his face grow even warmer, with nothing to do with the open-flame stove not a meter away from him. “That. Is. Not. The. Point.” He hisses, emphasizing each word. “And - don’t call me that - you said we were here to get coffee.”

He spits these words like they’re poisonous, and Hagakure is still for a moment. He thinks that he’s managed to get his point across, but:

“Aww, Togster…you really did wanna get coffee with me?” Hagakure sounds genuinely touched, one hand pressed to his chest. Byakuya was about two seconds from throwing the stupid root vegetable in his hand against Hagakure’s equally stupid head. “We can have coffee after we make food. Besides, aren’t you sick of the meals we’ve been doing recently? Like I’m not a picky guy, but ramen and bread every day for the past few days is getting kinda…bleh, y’know?”

The worst part of this was that Byakuya agreed with him on that front. Even with his newfound habit of only eating when there was no one else around, or when Alter Ego threatened to stop reading for him until he took a meal, the selection was paltry to begin with and had only grown more unappealing with time.

“Your job is easy,” Hagakure continues, and grabs something hanging off the handle of a nearby oven, and drops it over his face, obscuring his vision for a moment. He jerks backwards in alarm as it settles to hang around his neck, only to realize that it’s an apron - a pale, mint-green thing that’s one size too small, with some still-visible stains splattered across it, and Hagakure had somehow gotten behind him and tied the thing in place already  - “You just gotta peel the potatoes, and I just gotta cut everything up. The roux’s already done, so all we gotta do is dump the ingredients in and let it do its thing.”

Byakuya is still reeling a little from being forced (though, there wasn’t much he could’ve done in protest, with both his hands occupied) into an apron. The things in his hands are so unfamiliar to him that they may as well be OOPart pieces in the making.

Besides him, Hagakure was whistling away, chopping meat with the silver blur of a large kitchen knife. Completely oblivious to anything around him; and Byakuya realized, he could leave right now if he wanted, and it wasn’t like the fortune-teller, of all people, could stop him.

He’s about to do just that when the other man looks up, knife stilling. “Something wrong?” He asks, with a tilt of his head. And before Byakuya could explain that, yes, there was something very wrong with this entire situation: “D’you need help?”

“No.” He says automatically, and immediately kicks himself for it.

“Oh, then-?”

“I don’t-” Byakuya says at the same time, and frowns sharply at the interruption. “I. Don’t do this sort of…thing.” It comes out a lot less assertive than he would like, and sounds a lot more pathetic than he means it to be.

“Oh. Well, yeah, I figured.” Hagakure shrugs, as he scoops up the mess of pink on the cutting board with the edge of his knife and drops it into a metal bowl. It lands with a loud, wet slap, and the bowl rings as it shakes against the counter. “No time to learn like the present though, right?”

Byakuya feels his eye twitch. In some ways, talking to Hagakure was more frustrating than negotiating with most white-collar businessmen, and more akin to arguing against a very enthusiastic wall. “I’m not supposed to do this kind of thing,” He tries again. “I’ve never had to prepare my own food in my life.”

It echoes what he told Makoto, that night he dragged Byakuya to the kitchen to prepare him a meal. But this time, it feels much less like a boast, and more like an admission. Like he couldn’t even do this much.

If Hagakure noticed the grimace passing over his face, he made no comment. Instead, he plucks the items out of Byakuya’s hands. “No time to learn like the present, my man.” He twirls the peeler between his fingers, and it spins, a foggy green circle. “It’s like a pattern, you pull the peeler down, turn it again, and repeat.” He demonstrates, hands moving quickly, with practiced ease. “Don’t worry if you miss anything. We don’t need it to be super clean, we just need most of the skin off.”

And he offers the peeler back to Byakuya, a gleam of white teeth on his face. Deceptively kind, poisonously pleasant. “Think you can handle that?”

Byakuya shoves his hand away, his patience thinning to a thread. “Take the hint,” He snaps, reaching behind himself to try and undo the knot. “I’m not doing this.”

“What? But it’s easy!”

“I don’t care,” He yanks at the ties, feels them come no closer to being loosened, and feels his face reddening with frustration, humiliation. He needs to leave, now. “I’m leaving.”

“Aw, Toga, come on-”

Byakuya reaches for the knife, left abandoned on the cutting board, and there’s a clatter as Hagakure backs himself against the ovens. “O-okay, okay, sure! Sure, jesus, okay!”

Byakuya rolls his eyes at the overreaction, already tuning him out, then starts awkwardly maneuvering the knife to try and cut the apron off. Arms twisting awkwardly to catch the bladed edge against the side of the knot. It’s not easy - he could swear, the blade seemed sharp enough when Hagakure was using it to dice meat, but now it slides clumsily against the twisted cotton, dull as a stone -

“Jesus,” Hagakure says again, but less panicked now that it was clear his life was under no immediate threat. “Okay, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I am not-”

“You totally are, man. Just - don’t slash me, please, and hold still -”

Hagakure gives him a wide, cautious berth, as if still worried he would suddenly turn into some violent, knife-swinging killer, edging until he’s out of Byakuya’s peripheral and standing behind him. A slight tug around his midsection later, and the apron is flapping loosely against his stomach.

To show his thanks, Byakuya sets the knife down before he pulls off the apron, not so much as handing it over as simply dropping it in the other boy’s direction.

He makes to leave, but Hagakure stops him - or tries to, throwing one hand out while scrambling to catch the apron with the other - “Wait, wait,” He still sounds jovial, but there’s a thin edge of nervousness to it now, residual after the earlier scare. “Listen, you don’t hafta help if you don’t want to, but like…can you just hang out? Here?”

“...You want me to stay. In the kitchen.” Where it was overly warm with a pot of water building into a steady boil, heavy with the smell of various condiments and spices, and pervaded by a general stickiness on the tile. “Why?”

“U-um, well…”

Byakuya sighs. He’s wasted too much time already. The coffee he was promised earlier was looking like a lost cause, and frankly, he wasn’t interested in eating anything anymore either. It would feel too much like accepting undue pity, somehow.

Apparently sensing his impatience, Hagakure finally blurts out: “Because-! I’m, um, scared! To be alone! So…”

Byakuya only stares. Even with his hair tied back, the shape of Hagakure’s head is still a round, dark splotch, albeit smaller than usual. And it bobs up and down like a dandelion as he ducks his head, hands clasped in an exaggerated plea. “Please, man, I literally can’t ask anyone else,” He begs. “Mondo’s all psyched-out and freaky serious now, Hifumi and Celeste were weirdos to begin with, and I’m sick of third-wheeling for Hina-chi and Saka-chi! And there’s no way I’m hanging out with Toko!”

He doesn’t mention Makoto or Kirigiri. Which, Byakuya assumes, makes sense, so he doesn’t bother to ask about it. “How do I know you aren’t trying to kill me,” He says instead, deadpan. 

Hagakure snorts. “Have you seen me?” And then immediately winces. “I mean - shit, sorry - but seriously, I’m pissing my pants every time Monokuma shows up. And at every crime scene, and every trial. You really think I could get over myself to off someone?”

“None of Monokuma’s motives struck a chord with you?”

“Well - I’d be lying if the first one didn’t make me nervous,” He nods. “But I divined how my parents were doing a bunch of times, and they were always alright, so that didn’t worry me too much. And the thing about secrets; well, mine is that I’m actually on the run from this yakuza boss I accidentally pissed off. I owe him a debt of eight million yen.”

Byakuya is certain he doesn’t miss the way Hagakure glances at him then, based on the way his ponytail twitches as his head turns imperceptibly. He decides to ignore the obvious bait, and moves on: “Fine, then. Then what’s your reasoning that I won’t try to kill you?”

“Oh.” Hagakure pauses. “...I didn’t, uh…think about that.”

Right. Byakuya can’t find it in him to be surprised about that either, though some bruised-up part of his pride does rail against the implication that he wasn’t dangerous. Like being blind meant he was harmless, helpless, defanged - he struggles against the implication, but only sickens himself more with the truth of it.

“I mean…do you want to kill me?”

Byakuya snorts. “I want to leave,” He leans back against the counter, feeling the hard, smooth edge of the marble dig against his back. “Obviously, I’m not crazy enough to spend the rest of my life here, waiting to kill or be killed.” He pauses. “And…I’ve been looking into possible causes for my…circumstance, and it’s looking more and more like it would require the work of a trained doctor, using specific equipment to resolve. Which this place,” He gestures around him. “Isn’t exactly equipped to handle.”

The other boy scratches his head. “Um, yeah. I mean I know that much. We all wanna get out and all, but like…do you want to kill someone to make that happen?”

Not in the slightest. He probably held responsibility for the deaths of multiple people at this point, but he had never had to kill them himself, nor witness the moment of their end. Dirtying his hands with someone else’s blood never appealed to him, and it was far more sophisticated to orchestrate someone else handling the messy work.

But his answer must show on his face, because Hagakure nods, satisfied. “Well, there you go! Also, I ran a divination on whether one of us would die today, and it’s not in the cards or the stars or divine intention, so we’re good!” He claps his hands. “Anyways. If you don’t wanna help, that’s all totally cool. All you gotta do is stick around.”

“You can’t be serious.” He scoffs. But he was getting sick of the earlier conversation - sick of talking about himself, sick of thinking about himself - so he stays where he is, crossing his arms as Hagakure busies himself with the ingredients. “How do your divinations even work, anyways?”

“What, you interested?” Hagakure flashes another white smile, and even through the haze Byakuya gets the impression that it’s a salesman grin. He could practically hear the cartoonish chime of a register. “My current going rate’s ten-million yen a reading, but for you I’ll throw in a buddy’s discount of twenty-percent!”

Byakuya gives him the most unimpressed look he can manage. “I’m not interested in wasting money on frivolities.”

“It’s not frivol-anything, man. They’re a hundred-percent legit! …Thirty-three-percent of the time,” He amends, sheepishly, at Byakuya’s withering stare. “But when they’re real, they’re real! With a hundred-percent accuracy!”

As he talks, his hands blur, moving with practiced ease. The small pile of potatoes changing from brown to pale yellow, to small, misshapen chunks, the green stalks of celery disintegrating under a knife, sharp-smelling and darkening the wood beneath it with its moisture. There’s a steady, fluid grace to it, and Byakuya watches on, feeling a sense of deja vu - faintly envious, partly entranced - the last he felt this way, he recalls, was being a child and watching his mother work in her studio, hewing faces out of stone.

He hasn’t thought about that memory in years, and he clicks his tongue sharply, irritated. Hagakure jumps at the sound. “M-maybe it’s more like a ninety-eight percent accuracy?” The fortune-teller tries, hurriedly. “Uh, it depends on how clearly I can convey it, I mean. Like how good the client is with understanding me…dialect differences and all that, though my English is pretty solid-”

“Why fortune-telling, anyways?” He cuts off Hagakure’s rambling. “I can’t imagine it’s an inherited position. You don’t seem the type to be taking up someone else’s legacy.”

“Oh! Well…” He turns to the pot, scrapes a bowl of brown slurry into its bubbling contents. “It was my dad who got me into it - not that he was a fortune teller or anything - but he knew stories about fortune tellers and priestesses and stuff, from where he grew up. It was pretty interesting, and I guess that’s what got me started.” He stirs, sniffs, tosses a handful of green shapes into the mix. “He actually bought me my first crystal ball, though it was just a cheap souvenir thing. I couldn’t’ve been older than, like, six or something.” He laughs. “Wow, I haven’t thought about this stuff in forever.”

“Am I dredging up bad memories?” Byakuya drawls, and Hagakure shakes his head.

“Nah, just old ones. But I got super into it; started begging my Ma to read me divination textbooks for bedtime, she thought I was going crazy. Dad just said it was normal for little kids to be a little crazy about something they like, though.” He shrugs. Another sniff, a sprinkle of red seasoning. “He was the first person I did an accurate divination for, actually. Like a real divination, not just for pretend.”

He goes quiet for a moment, wooden spoon scraping against the inside of the pot. Byakuya frowns. “And what did you ‘see’?” He asks, though only about half as sarcastic as he intended.

“Saw him in the hospital. And then leaving.” He replies simply. He turns, and scoops up the chopped ingredients in his hands, tossing them in with a hiss. “It was clear as day in that little glass ball, like I was watching a TV screen, except also kinda…I don’t know, wiggly? Like a dream. But I got shook up so bad I dropped it and broke the damn thing, and the next day my Dad went to the doctor for a check-up, and they shipped him to the hospital right after. Some genetic, hereditary thing, they wouldn’t even tell me what it was. I think Ma thought it’d freak me out if I knew, but I was just more freaked out not knowing.”

He reaches blindly behind him, searching hand patting at the counter, the cutting board. Byakuya hesitates, then grabs the bowl of chopped meat and passes it over. Its contents splash into the pot. “Thanks. Anyways, the weirdest thing was that I wasn’t, like, scared he was gonna die, or anything. For some reason I knew he was gonna make it, but I was more worried that he was gonna…hurt? Get even worse?” He pauses. “I kept on doing divinations afterwards with a tarot card set, just to see how he was doing, and each time it told me he was gonna be fine.”

His voice sounds a little thick, indistinct. Byakuya was beginning to regret bringing up this topic; he would hate it if he was suddenly expected to have to comfort a grown man. But instead of bursting into tears, Hagakure leans to the side, tucks his face into his elbow, and sneezes, gunshot loud. “Phew! Jeez, the paprika.” He sniffs, and Byakuya’s unease turns back into a comfortable sort of annoyance. “Anyways. Where was I…?”

“...Your father.” He hesitates for a moment. “When he passed away.”

“When he-?” Hagakure turns fully away from the pot to stare at him, mouth open, before breaking into a laugh. Doubling over so and wheezing like he just got punched. “Dude! No way, are you- did you really think that?!”

“What? Am I wrong?” Byakuya feels his face heating red again, with nothing to do with the steam. “Shut up. The way you were talking about it, you were acting like he kicked the bucket,” He snaps, and Hagakure stifles another laugh. “It’s the logical progression of things. You saw him get sick and die, and then-”

“No, no, dude, I said I saw him in the hospital, and then leave - oh, yeah, I guess I can see how you’d think that now.” He stands up straight again, swiping a hand across his face. “Oh man. No, I meant ‘leave’ as in literally leaving, like at an airport? He got better and swung back around, but got a job offer overseas right after, so he never really came back to settle permanently in Japan.” He turns back to the pot, turning the heat down low. “He sends postcards for me all the time, and he and Ma vacation together every year around the holidays.”

So that was it. Byakuya feels an irrational surge of exasperation, as if all his previous pity had just been wasted. “What does he even do? Your father?”

“He teaches quantum mechanics.” At Byakuya’s stunned expression, he snorts. “What, I’m not kidding! He test-runs all his lectures and speeches and stuff to me, and now I know way more about that stuff than I think most people ever need to!”

‘Prove it’ is on the tip of Byakuya’s tongue, but he holds back. He probably would never recover if Hagakure did somehow manage it and make him look like a fool. Hagakure stirs the pot in silence for a moment longer, before asking: “What about you?”

“What?”

“Your parents.” A shot of cold immediately runs down his spine. “Like, I know your dad’s a big rich unmarried bachelor hotshot, but what about your mom? Ah- ” Hagakure presses hand to his mouth. “She…is she, like…?”

“She’s not dead, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.” He replies, stiffly. “We’re estranged.”

“O-oh. Um. I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine.” He pauses, looks down at the tile floor. It was a mutual disavowment, around the time he made the decision to try for Togami heir. She was relieved to be rid of him, he was sure, and he was glad to be out of her house full of stone statues and hollow eyes. “I haven’t been in contact with her for several years. We’re as good as strangers.”

He really should just leave it at that. There’s no reason to elaborate any further, nor does he want to; he glares down at his feet, trying to count the tiles, and watches as the dark lines dividing them squiggle and disappear the moment he loses focus. And finds his mouth moving against his will. “My mother is Genevieve Delasol.”

“Cool.” A pause. “Wait, what!?”

Byakuya scowls and looks away as Hagakure turns back to him. “Like, the Delasol?! World-famous artist lady? With the sculptures? Miss Modern Michelangelo?!”

“Don’t call her that.” She had always hated that stupid nickname that the press forced on her, and so did he, though not for her benefit. It was a tasteless, and frankly disrespectful moniker. “But yes. Her.”

“Dude…” There’s awe in his voice, as if it were something impressive. “That’s crazy.”

“It’s not. She birthed me like any other human.”

“Still! Like, they talked about her in my elementary school art class. Her stuff is so-” He splays his fingers near his head, puffs his cheeks to mimic the sound of an explosion. “Like, I remember seeing pictures of her stuff for the first time, and it freaked me out. One of the older kids in the neighborhood told me she was freezing people into rock, that’s how real her stuff looks.”

“She’s a good artist, but she was an awful mother.” Byakuya says flatly, immediately draining the rest of Hagakure’s enthusiasm. “We’re not continuing his conversation.”

“Right, right. Um. Sorry.” He taps his fingers against the spoon, ladles some of it into a little dish to taste. “Okay, um. Could you pass me some dishes? From that cabinet in front of you - to the left - yeah, thanks.”

The concoction he scoops into the shallow dishes Byakuya hands him is…unappealing. At least visually - a muddy brown sludge that glops thickly off of his ladle - but it smells good, spicy and warm. One of the bowls is passed back, and there’s a conflict of sensation as Byakuya tries to decide if he’s hungry enough to risk it, something that he couldn’t even clearly oversee the process of making.

“You’re surprisingly well-versed in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, well. I get into hot water a lot when my fortunes don’t work out, especially with my, uh…higher class clients, so I had to get used to taking care of myself. Didn’t wanna bother my parents with it, ya know?” He flicks off the stove, covers the pot, and reaches to the right for the rice cooker. Opens it with a sharp smack to the lid. “Like, I don’t think I’ve seen my dad face-to-face in…it feels like two years. Maybe longer.”

He holds out his hand. Byakuya passes over his bowl, and he plops some rice into the center of it, before handing it back.

“I can’t finish this much.”

“Sure you can, you’re a growing guy.” There’s the roll of a drawer being pulled open, then a clatter before a spoon is being dropped into his bowl as well. “You better eat all of it, by the way. Every grain of rice has seven gods, so you gotta eat them all so you don’t get cursed.”

“...What kind of saying is that?”

“Dunno, but my Ma used to say it all the time. Come on, let’s go into the caf-”

He halts suddenly, halfway to the door. Byakuya nearly runs into his back, and just barely keeps from spilling his bowl. “What-”

“Um. Hold on.” The previous casualness of his voice is gone, and there’s a hard thread of unease running through it again. “Uh…wait out here for a moment, okay?”

“Why-”

“Dude, please. Just for a moment.” He sets his bowl down on the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

And then he’s out the door before Byakuya can make any protest, leaving him alone in the kitchen, now uncomfortably quiet without the soft hiss of the stove. He stands there, stunned, feeling a little bit stung - no, irked - at the sudden dismissal.

He wasn’t about to take orders from Hagakure, regardless of whatever weird pseudo-symbiotic-relationship the other boy thought they had going on. He walks towards the door, moving to elbow it open-

“I’m telling you, just leave him alone.”

He freezes, ducking his head down. Hagakure’s voice is high and scratchy with nervousness, but firm despite that. “For the last time-”

“I-I-I-” Someone else stutters. The voice is familiar, and Byakuya feels his gut drop in recognition. The last he heard it, it was seething with malice, spit like venom at his feet. “I j-just wanna l-look at him…”

Hagakure lets out a long-suffering sigh, indicating that this wasn’t the first time he’s had to deal with this. “Seven hells, Toko, I really don’t get you,” He grumbles. “You said you hated him, right? I mean, you said so at the trial, and you did…all that.” He coughs. “He wasn’t interested to begin with, and there’s really no way to turn it around after that.”

“I-It was t-to prove that we’re th-the same!” Fukawa shrieks, trigger-sudden and indignant. There’s a sharp thump as she stomps her foot, hard enough to rattle some nearby furniture. “If I d-didn’t do that, he w-would’ve never a-accepted what h-happened to him!”

Byakuya frowns at that, and sets the bowl aside in favor of sinking into a half-crouch, ear pressing up against the door, beneath the tiny window. What was she talking about? Not accepting my own condition? Don’t I know myself better than anyone else?

“That’s not up to you to decide,” Hagakure starts.

“I-It’s not up t-to you to p-protect him either!” She spits back. “Y-you’ve been keeping him a-away from me recently, wh-what’s with you? D-did you have some k-kind of awakening, or something?!”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my type is none of your business - and anyways, ain’t it logical to wanna keep away from you?” He grumbles, then yelps. “C-calm down-! I just mean - you know, you…you don’t exactly give off warm and fuzzy feelings about hanging out with people!”

Toko barks a laugh, shrill and mirthless. “Wh-which makes him perfect for me,” And Byakuya feels disgust roll down his back. “I-I know I’m m-miserable, a-and unfriendly and unloveable,”

“Hey,” Hagakure says, a little more gently than before.

“B-but s-so is he! H-he’s just b-better at hiding it, p-pretending to be a, a perfect, white-horse prince,” She spits the words vehemently. “I-if he was p-perfect, th-then maybe, I c-could just be s-satisfied with - with being n-near him, with b-being used…”

She trails off. Byakuya fights the urge to physically cringe at the mere suggestion, instead gritting his teeth, nails scratching lightly against the door’s tacky surface. “B-but, he’s not perfect. S-so, that means I c-can reach him - i-it’s possible for someone l-like m-me to actually be with him,” She giggles, and the sound is far too childishly delighted to suit her mouth, and far too chilling to have innocent intentions behind it. “I-I dragged him off his p-pedestal, s-so now I can actually touch him.”

It’s vile, listening to her. The sound feels like a filth that clings to him, sliding into his ears, contaminating him from the inside out. Poisoning him, paralyzing him.

He’s only vaguely aware of his body sliding down lower, unable to maintain the awkward pose, curled over and unable to brace himself properly against the swinging door. He sinks into a squat, ears straining.

“...Um, ew.” Hagakure mutters succinctly. “Okay, first of all, no you can’t. Pretty sure Monokuma would have some problems about that, he’s all gung-ho about decency and stuff. Second, Toga’s still not gonna be into you. You blew that chance when you, uh…”

“When I w-what? S-strung up Chihiro?” She snorts. “H-he would’ve done the s-same if h-he was a-actually as perfect as h-he said.”

The contamination sinks deeper, claws curling cruelly into his chest. I would have never, He thinks through the tinny, lightheaded hum in his skull, but there’s a sickening sense of dread that twists in his stomach as he realizes he can’t even be sure of that. He might have. He would’ve had no use for Chihiro if he wasn’t blind, he would have barely even hesitated if the opportunity was there - to defile someone else’s corpse for nothing more than his own self-righteousness.

He’s probably had this realization already, but it’s revolting to hear it come from Fukawa. He should go out there, tell her to shut up, to leave him be-

“-a-and anyways, y-you still didn’t t-tell me why y-you’re so obsessed with p-protecting him.” She’s still saying, distantly, and it feels as if the door is suddenly several times thicker than it was previously, muffling the sound dramatically. “Y-you don’t have a-anything in c-common, I don’t s-see why you’d want t-to be near him, u-unless…y-you’re doing it for someone else, aren’t y-you?”

Hagakure doesn’t respond. Makes no sound to confirm or deny it. Byakuya waits, ringing intensifying, disease festering into his lungs. It was getting hard to breathe. His pulse thrums in his ears, too loud to think, not nearly loud enough to drown their voices out.

“I s-saw you with Makoto,” She continues, and the confirmation of Byakuya’s suspicion does nothing to make him feel better. “He- he asked you t-to do this, right? To protect him, h-how nice,” She snarls, disgusted. “L-looking out for his p-precious boyfriend, when he won’t d-do it himself-”

“That’s…that’s not it,” Hagakure protests, but he doesn’t sound convincing, voice so hesitant and soft that Byakuya barely catches it. “Mako-chi’s just…busy, right now-”

“Y-yeah, too busy trying to g-get out of here so Byakuya c-can get fixed, so he can s-stop f-feeling guilty - h-he doesn’t want to have to look at him, b-but he can’t help s-sticking his nose in anyways, he’s s-so sweet it makes me sick.” Byakuya legs shake, cramping, but he forces himself still, keeps his ear flattened to the door despite the nausea building in his gut, the light-headedness in his temples - “B-but it’s too much work t-to comfort him or drag him a-around, s-so he has to get s-someone to do it, right?”

He wouldn’t, is Byakuya’s immediate thought, but it’s weak, even in his own head. Makoto hasn’t sought him out all since that night in the bathhouse because Byakuya had requested it; had demanded that he leave him alone with as much vitriol and firmness as he could muster, and as with so many other things, Makoto had obeyed. But while Fukawa’s words are acerbic and biting, they’re also painfully, terribly logical.

He wonders now, how he must have looked to the others. Slowly falling apart, barely eating, rarely showing his face. So utterly different from how he tried to portray himself at first, an ill-fitted facsimile of how he used to be, how he should be; it’s no wonder Makoto would go behind his back to take care of him. Between disobeying him again and trying to keep him alive, the choice must have been easy.

The fact that that choice had to be made at all, however, made Byakuya want to…

There’s a thud as his legs finally give out, his knees smashing against the tile, but he hardly notices. Not while the sickness spreads, a physical decay in his torso eating away at him, swift and insatiable. He’s not hungry anymore, but he feels emptier than he’s ever been. 

The door swings open suddenly, bumping against his shoulder, and he sways, unsteady. Hands reach out, catching him before he can fall over.

“Whoa, hey,” Hagakure sounds muffled, underwater. He hooks his hands beneath Byakuya’s arms, trying to pull him upright, and only then does Byakuya realize that he’s not really breathing. Probably hasn’t been for the past few minutes. “Toga- I mean- you okay?” 

Of course not, he wants to snap, but talking would mean opening his mouth, and that would mean breaking down into tears like a petulant infant, so he clamps his mouth shut and tries to get as much oxygen as he can through his nose. Slow, stuttered, wheezing breaths, teeth sinking into raw, just-healing skin and breaking it bloody all over again. He leans away from Hagakure’s grip as much as possible and tries to brace himself against the wall, shaky hands against the cool bumps of the tile. Trying to count them, one by one.

“I,” He manages to grit out when he was marginally more calm, ignoring Hagakure’s worried clucking. His voice quavers, and he swallows hard around the shrapnel lodged in his throat. “I’m going to go.”

“Dude, come on-”

He lurches forward, clumsily dodging Hagakure’s attempts to support him, and walks as steadily as he can out of the kitchen. The moment he crosses the open space of the cafeteria and into the hallway, he breaks into a sprint for his room. As far away from prying eyes as he can manage.

__

(When he opens his door later that night, he finds a plastic container and a spoon sitting by the threshold, its contents long cold.)

(He eats it anyways and scrapes it clean, and leaves it sitting empty outside of his door again.)

< previous - from start - next >

[nerdieforpedro]

Yes ma'am I am your new neighbor

Chapter One of "This is the Neighborhood Din"

Din Djarin modern AU x Sierra Harris (plus size OFC)

This fic is for readers over 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.2k

Summary: Din Djarin is moving into his new home with his young son Grogu. His next door neighbor decides to introduce herself.

Warnings: Din and Grogu being adorable father and son, nosy neighbor (she's nice though), Oogling (two separate occasions but who wouldn't?!), chill vibes

Notes: This idea of Din being a single father who moves into next door has stuck with me since last year. It was only a month ago maybe that I finally started writing it because I've had a block on other projects. So here were are! Please mind warnings at the start of each chapter. Thanks to @alltheglitterandtheroar and @megamindsecretlair for hearing me talking about this idea for a week straight while I wrote out the first part. ❤️ Divider is by @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist / This is the neighborhood Din Series

Moving day wasn’t that bad, it actually went well as Din surprisingly had a few of his coworkers show up to assist with moving furniture and boxes into the three-bedroom house he bought for him and his son Grogu. A new job in the suburbs wasn’t in his plans at all. Nothing really was except his job as a mechanical engineer. It was a cool spring morning and he found himself removing his black hoodie and tossing it over the side of the railing on the front of his home’s porch. Sweat coated the dark blue t-shirt he had underneath with a small cinnamon hand tugging on the back pocket of his gray sweatpants. The soft cotton of his shirt stuck to his back as he turned around to see his son peering up at him.

“Daddy, when are you gonna be done? I wanna play in the yard with you.” Little Grogu asked, poking his bottom lip out with chocolate eyes that matched his fathers perfectly. Din sighed and took his large palm to pat his son’s head.

“Not yet. I at least have to get all our things inside before we play, okay? Why don’t you take in a few of the boxes, and I’ll finish faster.” He suggested, to which Grogu gave a moment of thought and nodded, skipping to the U-Haul truck where two of his coworkers were taking out more boxes. They handed him the smaller and lighter boxes and the group kept unloading the truck.

Johnnie Mae Harris had been expecting her niece Sierra since the morning. “Lord that child is always late, be late to her own funeral.” She was sitting on her couch, with a sleeping four-year-old boy tucked under her arm. She heard some commotion outside and carefully rose from her seat, trying not to wake him. She peeped out of her kitchen window into the house next door. It looked like someone was moving in, there were four men moving boxes and a child carrying small ones. Maybe she would make someone to welcome them later after she figured out who exactly was moving in.

“Ms. Harris, whatcha lookin’ at?” A small voice asked, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t feel her warmth next to him and woke up. He didn’t see his mother or father outside the window so he was curious what else she could be looking for. He then spotted someone who might be his age, the only other kid was his baby sister and she’s two, she’s no fun at all.

“New people on the block Quinton. Not sure which ones though, could be all of ‘em.” It looks to Ms. Harris like the men had moved in all the boxes and furniture. One of them was leaving and three stayed, likely to place the furniture in the house. It was about lunch time, so she made sandwiches for herself and small Quinton. His sister Delia wasn’t awake from her nap yet, so she had a separate sandwich for her in the fridge. Johnnie Mae figured she could go say hello and figure out who was exactly in the house. It used to be her friend Mabel, but after her second stroke, she moved out of state with her daughter and son-in-law because she couldn’t care for herself anymore. Ms. Harris picked up Delia and put on her slip-on sneakers as she was already wearing a royal blue velvet sweatsuit that had capri pants. She did make sure she put on her black bob wig that covered her thinning gray hair. Not dying it helped her hair to stop thinning, but it still wasn’t growing back in as it did say twenty years ago. Now in her early seventies, Ms. Harris felt it was cheaper to have a few wigs than to sign up for all those supplements. Once she put jackets on both children, they made their way outside to see about these newcomers to the neighborhood.

Din was satisfied with where most of the furniture was placed or put together, dishes and silverware were taken out and put away. He wasn’t sure which box had the pots and pans he’d need for dinner tonight. “Dank Farrik…I feel like I set them near the kitchen area but now I can’t find them.” He scratched the back of his head, his soft taupe curls ruffling between his fingers as he surveyed the boxes again. He pauses, not hearing his son’s voice asking him what they’re having for lunch, that boy is always hungry… Din turns and makes his way to the front door, opening the screen door since either his son or his helpers left the main door open. “These guys…” He sighs, he appreciated the help, but he preferred things to be neat and orderly, basically non-existent with a five-year-old and doubly so from the workstations of these two. Tilting his head, he saw an older woman in a blue velvet sweatsuit holding a little girl and talking to his two friends. Grogu was playing with a boy who looked about his age. Maybe they lived here in the neighborhood?

“Why welcome new neighbor! Aren’t you a tall drink of water? I’m Johnnie Mae Harris, I live right next door.” Din watched as her red manicured nail pointed to the dark gray house that had stark white windows. He nodded and reached out his hand with a smile.

“Thank you for the welcome ma’am. I’m Din Dajrin. That is my son, Grogu.” A chuckle left his lips to see Grogo excitedly playing with someone already. Her grip was firm and she released his hand before adjusting the sleepy child in her arms.

“Did ya’ll boys have anything to eat for lunch? I just made the children here sandwiches. I can fix ya’ll somethin’.” Ms. Harris offered, Din was about to decline, but Grogu interrupted.

“Daddy! Quinton said that Ms. Harris has ham, cheese, and spicy mustard. I love the spicy mustard!”

Din was going to apologize but Ms. Harris stopped him and told Grogu to come on over to her house for lunch. The single father’s two coworkers checked in with him before leaving, making sure he didn’t at least need any more help with the furniture which he said he didn’t. Din followed his new neighbor and his son into her home. It was cozy, she had various knick knacks and black ballerinas and some soccer players which Grogu pointed to, and Din made sure he didn’t touch. He didn’t need to be breaking anything in her home. The sandwiches were welcome, and he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he ate two of the sandwiches and was looking for a third after downing two glasses of lemonade. Ms. Harris made small talking, asking about Grogo and what led Din to buy a house in the neighborhood. He told her that the schools were good in the area and thankfully it was closer to work and not further away, though he would have made the drive for his son. She wanted to ask about his mother and the very clear absence of both a wedding ring and a tan from one. It could easily mean he didn’t wear one, she knew some people didn’t or he be in one of those open marriages she’d heard about. Ms. Harris decided she could find that out later. She did offer to watch Grogu when Din offered to buy her more sandwich supplies after him and his son apparently had eaten most of hers. She agreed and wished that her niece was here. Once Din departed, she went back outside and watched the three kids play in the yard, Delia was awake now and saw someone new.

“I swear, if she doesn’t meet this man, I’ll have to make up some reason to do a second welcome to the neighborhood. Maybe he’s separated or something.” The caretaker mused, rolling her eyes at her niece’s continued absence.

Din returned with groceries for both Ms. Harris and himself. He assisted her in putting hers away first before taking care of his and thankfully finding the dishes, pots, pans, glasses and silverware in his black Subaru ascent. Having a few moments to himself were excellent. He could put more items away than if he had to worry about what Grogu might have gotten into. Most of the boxes in the kitchen and dining room he was able to clear out as well as in Grogu’s room and a few in his room. Before he realized, it was a few hours, and it was well into the afternoon. “Damn, I should go get him. I just hope he hasn’t broken anything; I know he likes to touch stuff. There’s a time and place, little one.”

Thankfully, Din didn’t have anything to worry about. Grogu was rolling in the grass with Quinton and Delia, the three of the giggling about some pirate king. Din walked up the stairs and took a seat in a rocking chair next to Ms. Harris. “Thank you for watching him, ma’am. He can be rather active, but he’s a good kid.” 

Johnnie Mae gave Din a sour face and pursed her lips. “Now Din, don’t call me ‘ma’am’. I know I’m old already. Just call me Ms. Harris. I appreciate that you’re polite though. You married hun?” She asked all in the same breath. Din blinked and she grinned, “I’m just curious. Don’t worry, I’m not one of those jaguars. I at least prefer men in their fifties. They’ve seen some things and might have some retirement money you know.” Her laugh was loud, and Din took a sigh of relief, at least she had a sense of humor. He pulled at the v-neck of his dark blue shirt to fan himself a bit. Given the time, the sun had warmed the air. The kids had long come out of their jacket and even Johnnie Mae took off the jacket of her sweatsuit to expose her black undershirt that said, ‘world’s best grandma.’ His shirt was sticking to him again, he normally did run hot and hated the warm spring days and summers. “You can take it off son. I’m going to go get you some water, you ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen before.” As she opened her screen door and walked inside, Din could have sworn she said under her breath, “Looks a helluva lot better than what I normally see though.” This earns a wide smile from Din as he removes his dark blue shirt and drapes it across the arm of the rocking chair. He turns the chair diagonally to face where the children are playing to see his son running around with the other two kids.

It’s then that a blue Nissan versa pulls into Ms. Harris’ driveway. She comes back out with Din’s ice water and hands it to him, nodding as she does. “Thank you, Ms. Harris.” He says before drinking it and she stands at the top of the steps, momentarily wondering what would happen if she was thirty years younger….

A stout woman exits the car and looks up at Ms. Harris, then her eyes widen at the sight of an unknown man who’s returning her gaze from the corner of his eyes. His dark damp curls are stuck to the back of his neck, beautiful bronze skin with a light glisten of sweat coated his body. On his left arm, were three black lines with triangles drawn from each line on his forearm and before he stood up, his back had the skull of some animal with tusks but three blood red lines going through the skull. Rising from the chair to turn and face the new arrival, she was able to see that he had a thin beard, patchy but it suited him as well as a prominent nose and an angled slope to it. He was tall, broad and solid. His biceps and chest were well defined, but he had a soft middle for balance which didn’t hang over the gray sweatpants he was wearing. On the lower right of his abdomen was a helmet she could make out. He adjusted his glasses and put on the navy-blue shirt that had been on the arm of the rocking chair out of view when she pulled up.

“Dear Lord in heaven I am not dressed or prepared to talk to that sort of man any day.” She muttered as Ms. Harris made her way down the stairs toward her, she hugged her, and her arms wrapped around her as well, eyes still lingering on the man sitting on the porch. His sweatpants did not leave much to the imagination. They weren’t tight by any means; one could just trace the lines. Thick thighs and well… heavy in the middle is the most polite way to say it. The only way she can think to describe it while hugging her aunt.

“Hey Auntie Mae, thank you so much for letting me come up here.” The two women hugged for longer still on the verge of tears. In thanking her aunt, Sierra remembered why she was grateful her aunt opened her home.

Chapter Two

Peeps who may also need to think of a polite way to say things while hugging a family member and oogling Din 👀: @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @syd-djarin @yorksgirl @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @pedroshotwifey @drawingdroid @katw474 @trulybetty @bitchwitch1981 @soft-girl-musings @syd-djarin @tinytinymenace @djarinmuse

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Identity Pt 4

Part (4) of Identity, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

I owe loads of responses and I'm sorry! I got the writing bug and any spare time I've had in front of a computer, I just wanted to write! Quick answer to the most common question, though: Yeah, the implication is that the contact is her dad - that'll be touched on a bit more later, though, and I'll try to actually be a good tumblr person and respond to everyone's lovely comments this week now that I've purged this chapter out!

Huge preemptive warning before even getting to the real warnings! This is one of those particularly dark chapters that may be too intense for some readers. If that's the case, I'm more than happy to make a summary for continuity's sake; just please take caution to read the tags

Warnings: torture, waterboarding, drowning, interrogation, panic, panic attack, flashbacks, self-blame, giving up, longing for death, temporary insanity, arguably inappropriate use of sedation, guilt, profanity, intense whump

WC: 3,231

Fire tore through my nose and throat, body wrenching forward with violent coughs that sent pain shooting down my side, but the movement stopped short, chest held fast to something behind me – no… beneath me? I couldn’t think beyond the desperate need for air, head shaking as though it might rid my eyes and nose of the liquid still dripping down my face as my jaw gaped around choked gasps. The distorted hum of unfamiliar voices resonated nearby, pausing mere seconds before another torrent of icy water crashed over me, robbing me of what pitiful taste of air I’d fought so hard to gain and sending me back down that spiral of panicked suffocation, diaphragm convulsing uselessly beneath that torturous burn of drowning.

Something locked around my jaw, forcing my gaze toward the blurred colors that surely hid an unknown face and drawing a startled grunt of pain from me. I could almost hear words, confident at least that they were male before my attacker released me harshly enough to slam my already throbbing head against whatever lay beneath it. I’d only just realized my wrists were bound behind me when another frigid wave was thrown at me, again leaving me sputtering for breath.

“… a patient man…” That voice growled, mind finally grasping some meager bit of clarity. “I suggest you answer my questions before things get really unpleasant.” Wheezing, I quickly looked about us for some hint as to what was happening, but the dark cell offered no clues toward who he was or where he’d taken me. I think I was tied to a chair leaning back at a precarious angle, but I couldn’t move enough to check before he grabbed me again, fingers burring into my already bruised jaw.

“Eyes on me, yuh damn rat.” He grumbled. Without conscious thought, I realized some part of me expected to find a grizzled, old man covered in scars, eyes full of enraged contempt, but that’s not who stood beside me. He appeared to barely be in his thirties, white shirt marred with sweat and blood and stains I tried not to look too closely at lest I see something far worse. Years of drinking left is stomach distended and his skin blotchy, and what light may once have filled pale, green eyes had long since abandoned him. There was no anger fueling his actions, no obvious cause for him to seek retribution from long held vendetta. This was his job, and he’d simply lost the will to be bothered by the horrors it forced him to do.

“Ah. Guess yuh weren’t really awake yet, were yuh?” He hummed more to himself than to me, “Concussions can be tricky like that…” With a deep sigh, he stepped back, hand dropping absently away from me. “Let’s start over, then.” The way he rubbed his hand over his face, the weariness dragging against his movements, it felt so painfully displaced against the way my heart raced.

“Who ordered the hit?” Lost, I could only stare at him, thoughts far too muddled beneath fear and confusion to fathom a response. “How about we start with something easier?” He muttered, though he still reached for something behind me. I heard the click of a button followed by the rush of water through pipework overhead, and the terror that gripped me was visceral, body shaking too hard to manage even a broken gasp, limbs wrenching against the shackles about my wrists and ankles.

The vague sensation of pain each movement sent tearing through my left side didn’t matter, nor the growing understanding that there had been an explosion; that everyone near the podium must have been caught in the blast, and I couldn’t begin to guess the extent of my own injuries even as I recalled the horrifying images of those far less fortunate. That knowledge, that pain, none of it mattered in the face of where I now lay: trapped before this stranger who owed me no loyalties and sought only to force answers from me that I could never give.

“Where are yuh from?” I wondered if the hint of a slur in his voice was from mere disinterest, or if he’d already begun numbing himself with some bottle stashed amidst the grime-streaked walls. “Not gonna tell me your name, either, I assume?” My jaw ground shut, gaze turning blindly to the dark ceiling above us. He offered no further warning before clicking another button to unleash the next rush of water. I managed to keep most of it from flooding my mouth, but the pressure forced enough up my nose to send me into another fit of strangled coughs.

“You’re with the Republic, yeah? Some kinda spy or something? What’s that fancy swamp planet…” He seemed to think it over for several seconds before remembering. “Naboo! You from Naboo?” Breath shattering between clattering teeth, I kept my attention turned pointedly away from him, clinging to some distant memory that it was better to remain silent during an interrogation; that even shouted curses yielded more easily to breaking than simply never speaking at all, and then I had to come to terms with that simple fact that that’s exactly what this was: an interrogation.

How long had it been since the gala? Was I still on the same planet? Was I on a planet at all? I didn’t want to acknowledge what the answers to those questions might mean; didn’t want to let myself listen for the rumble of engines or hum or air recyclers. It was easier not to know.

A tsk sounded from the man beside me, and I had to fight not to let my expression crumble beneath that fear.

“A’right.” I wanted to slap him for the disinterest in that breathy sigh, anger drawing my lips into a scowl. Again, there was no warning. A dark sack was pulled roughly over my face. I had just enough time to gasp before that water began to pour down. My chest bucked with violent fits, fighting to force some sliver of air through the endless onslaught, but it wouldn’t stop. Why wouldn’t it stop?

The was a moment when that determination first faltered beneath the weight of a panic no amount of logic could hope to supersede; a fleeting breadth of understanding just how alone I was, how little I meant, and how hopeless even the denial that forbade me from listening for engines truly was, because regardless my dreams and nightmares, regardless the sincerity of my intentions or the purpose I once believed drove me through moments when I wanted nothing more than to shatter, the simple reality was that death didn’t care and all I’d done would amount to nothing. There was no promise of one more chance, no reason swaying whether I lived or died, no thought beyond a bone-deep, primal terror, and not a damn thing I could do to change any of it.

Powerless, I laid beneath the flow of soured water, body thrashing uselessly as the man just stood there, watching; waiting. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, the sensation of that sack about my face constricting with each failed gasp overwhelmed every memory I’d ever made, forsook every imagined possibility of a future, dispelled whatever higher knowledge supposedly separated sentience from feral beasts, and I knew he was utterly impartial to all of it as my lungs burned, spine wrenching against restraints that offered no leeway. The weakness that crept up my limbs was a strange thing. I barely noticed it beneath the new form of darkness overtaking me, yet some whisper of frustration balked at how quickly my muscles began to fail, how deafening my heartbeat became as those frantic coughs faded beneath wet gurgles.

Still, there was some futile sense of denial, a disbelief promising me that he wouldn’t actually let me die; that this was merely some sick form of intimidation meant to break me, and I knew exactly how foolish that thought was as the water flooded my lungs.

-

Agony filled my chest, my head. Fire burned my sinuses and left my throat raw as my torso convulsed in violent coughs even as I strained for breath, begging my own body to grant me some small taste of air. It felt like waking; like I’d been asleep for ages, mind hazed beneath that fog of confusion.

“..ere yuh are… Come on back.” Was that voice familiar? I vaguely thought it shouldn’t be despite how my eyes automatically travelled toward it, unable yet to make out anything beyond a blurred shaped. “Can you tell me your name?” Were his words slurring, or was my hearing merely faltering beneath that disorientating weariness eager to drag me back into unconsciousness? I knew that question, though – it had long since become ingrained into my psyche from years of asking. What’s your name? What’s the date? Where are we, right now? Where…

My lips stumbled around an initial attempt at forming an answer but managed only a choked whimper beneath a hurt that left even strangled gasps crippling. That moment of physical hinderance was enough to grant the very beginnings of a clarity that threatened to break me as some distorted mockery of sensation slowly began to return; glimpses of soiled walls, the scent of putrid water, pain lancing through joints held fast about the hard surface beneath me, through flesh left raw and torn from how violently my body had struggled against restraints still binding my wrists and ankles, looped about my chest and stomach, and the fear that stole through me was like nothing I’d ever known.

In an instant, my heart began to race, the rhythm far too quick to not be a danger in itself, but I could spare no thought toward something so mundane as a heart attack as my every muscle began to convulse, the icy obstruction of adrenaline flooding my veins as logic and rationale faltered in the wake of memories.

“Damn… figured it’d figured take longer ‘en that.” He mumbled, and I froze at the bundle of still dripping cloth hanging from his hand, unable to either tear my gaze away nor stomach the sight of it. “‘ere’s how this works,” he started, utterly unmoved by how my body shied from him as he reached toward me with that cursed fabric. “Ain’t gotta go through any of that again if you don’t want to.” The way my every cell screamed against the feeling of that mask being pulled even halfway down my face left me thrashing anew, numb to any damage sustained from how desperately I found myself flailing against my bounds. “Just gotta answer my questions, an’ it all stops.”

There was no thought; no memory even of how to think as the first drops of water danced atop my forehead. My every muscle tightened, body wrenching away with more force than it could take. Something cracked. I didn’t feel it. My teeth ground together even as my jaw strained to open, to drag as much of that precious, stale air into my lungs as I could.

“Who are yuh working with?” Rage. There was no suffocating torrent of liquid. It was barely a splash, but he knew exactly how little work he needed to do to rend me into that hysterical frenzy that so effortlessly robbed me of all but my most ancient, primal instinct, and I loathed him for how quickly it worked, lips wrenching back into a snarl.

The next gush held none of that earlier restraint. Water filled my mouth and flooded my nose, instantly sending me into ragged, gagging coughs, body jerking in an effort to at least lean onto my side that I might rid my airway of that burning, frigid certainty of drowning.

“Who orchestrated the explosion?” I thought of the mercenary as another surge of water poured over me just long enough to leave me gasping.

How do I free him!

“Who was the target?” I don’t know if there were words in whatever scream I felt tearing through my throat, but he waited mere seconds, unmoved by my choked cries.

Tell me.

“Who placed the bombs?” His emotionless voice reverberated through the darkness, lifting the mask just clear of my lips after each question before dragging it back down in the wake of answers that left him wanting, and I could only flail atop that unyielding surface as he unleashed that frigid water again and again.

I thought of the hatred in my brother’s eyes as my mind flickered at the edges of suffocation.

“Who ordered the hit?”

Did I deserve this?

“Who’s behind the assassination attempt?”

Why didn’t he just kill me?

“Tell me who ordered the hit.”

Kill me.

“Who were you sent to kill?”

Kill me kill me kill me

“Who placed the bombs?”

His earlier boredom was beginning to turn impatient. My body barely managed to struggle anymore. Didn’t matter.

“Who ordered the hit?”

I wanted that darkness. Yearned for it… because anything was better than this endless torture, hours and seconds and years of drowning with no hope of it ever stopping, no sense of time, no sense of self.

“Who-”

The sudden flurry of sounds meant nothing. I’d long since lost any grasp on reality, more certain that I was already dead than I was that those harsh, broken wheezes voiced my own, failing attempts at breath. I don’t know when that sack had been removed nor what muttered pleas tumbled listlessly from numb lips. Flashes of grey and white armor held no meaning, nor did whispered words blaring through speakers, though I remembered some fleeting thought toward the futility of whispering into a mic.

Movement. It didn’t feel like that perceived sense of endlessly falling preceding loss of consciousness… It felt like… running? My eyelids bat against the illusion painted atop the black cloth I was so sure awaited me the instant I managed to truly see. It wasn’t until I tried to move that that madness returned. No restraints held my arms trapped behind me. No unyielding board pressed painfully into my back. I was held only by the arms looped beneath my knees and shoulders, and the instant I understood that, I fought with every hint of strength granted to me by that panic-induced insanity.

I couldn’t hear anything above the chorus of sudden shouts, focus trained solely on freeing myself of that near embrace. I’d barely begun to thrash before feeling the floor rise up to meet me, body instantly kicking out to distance myself from my captor until my heels slid useless atop muck-coated stone, doing nothing more than pressing my back more firmly into the wall behind me.

“…” Muffled words lost beneath the pounding of my heart and the rasp of air catching in too-moist lungs fluttering with hyperventilated breaths stolen between wet coughs. I tried to draw my arms between myself and the figure kneeling before me, but could barely convince my hands to twitch, flared fingers trembling mere inches above the ground.

“…! …ack! Come on, kid; come back!” His voice finally broke through that frenzy, and my eyes locked on his, every muscle freezing beyond that persistent shiver I couldn’t begin to quell. He seemed to hold his breath, waiting to see if I’d break again. My brows drew weakly together, thoughts too frantic to more than stare at him for several seconds.

“…W… Wol…” His shoulders sank at my stammered attempt to call his name.

“Right here, kid.” It was such a strange thing to hear the gentleness in his voice, but that lingering sense of wrong drew me further from the shattered recess of my mind, vaguely noting the four figures posted around us, and I didn’t need to see their helms to know who they were, that they had their weapons trained on the corridors stretching out at either side of me, ready to fire at the faintest hint of a threat. They’d found me… This was real… So, why couldn’t I free myself of that relentless fear, that deafening need to run, to find some dark corner and hide?

“I need to get you out of here.” He explained, words purposefully slowed in a way I should have taken offense to. In that moment, however, that slowness was the only reason I could make sense of them. Get out… They were going to get me out of here… but my body revolted from the very thought of letting him touch me again, of letting anyone touch…

“You can hold on to me, or I can carry you, but we can’t stay here.” I wanted to shout at that familiar, cold logic, the silent apology nestled in his hushed statement, frustration spiking at the weakness preventing my hands from clasping over my ears regardless how useless I knew the gesture to be.

“Hey – hey, look at me.” The guilt tainting his command made me want to scream even as my eyes automatically flicked back to his, some distant thought finally realizing he’d forgone protocol in favor of letting me see his face, helmet abandoned on the ground beside him. My name left his lips in a whisper, head ducking slightly to draw my unsteady gaze back toward him.

“We need to move.” My jaw tensed with curses and pleas and senseless shouts, despite my inability to hold enough breath to manage more than a stammered whimper, chest still seizing with half coughs from the phantom sensation of flooded lungs.

“Do you want me to sedate you?” He barely murmured the quiet offer, head ducking toward me. Did I… I thought of that blissful emptiness… that escape from this fear, from the pain of wounds I couldn’t remember sustaining, from the anger wrought by my own inability to force some semblance of control over myself, and, with a sob, I nodded. His expression darkened, but he said nothing as he returned the gesture.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered, and the tremble seizing through me redoubled, terror spiking at the threat of subjecting myself to that darkness. “You’re going to be alright, kid… Just close your eyes.” He promised… I’d never doubted him before… not like this… but how could I possibly believe him? I knew he could see how frightened I was, how lost I was in that fear; I knew he was counting every second wasted trying to guide me through this, how each of those seconds redoubled the risk of being caught, but he said nothing as I struggled to find myself through that panic, and he wasted no time when I finally managed to force my eyes shut.

The instant I felt the prick of needles, my body balked, managing to jump mere inches away, but his touch was already there, hand delicately catching my cheek as those fleeting reserves of strength abandoned me, muscles quickly going limp against him.

“Alright… I’ve got you… I’ve got you.” A final shiver darted down my spine as the warmth of his breath danced across my scalp, barely noting how carefully he eased me back into his arms, but the distant familiarity of finding myself nestled against him, of tasting his scent in my every stammered gasp even as I felt my mind begin to slip away was a comfort I clung to until even that faded.

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