#her old place of work found out due to a coworker outing her and they fired her because of

[qpenpals]

rituals and such

[corameiwrites]

𖦹 searching for love 𖦹

pair: jason todd x gn!reader

plot: your shift at a small bookstore is about to end when a handsome stranger walks in five minutes before closing

wc: 2k

pt. 2

A far off chime sounded from the old grandfather clock, signaling the passing of another half hour. That meant it was 8:30, and more officially, 30 minutes past closing time. Normally, you would have been packed up and locking the door by 7:58, eager to get home to your grouchy cat, messy room, and half-written research paper. There was nothing normal, however, about the six-foot something man with biceps the size of your head, meticulously browsing the shelves of your bookstore. 

Well, not yours, but the number of shifts you picked up having to pay the bills for your not-so-cheap Gotham apartment had basically made this place your second home.

So when the very fit and handsome stranger walked in a mere five minutes to closing, you lingered a little. Behind the counter at the front of the store, of course. It was far too scary to go and ask him if he needed help—you would run the risk of embarrassing yourself further. 

Earlier, when he had entered, you made the mistake of welcoming him with a rushed “Good Morning” despite the full moon visible through the store windows. He had glanced in your direction, nodded, and walked further into the store, going to start his long search of whatever it was he came here to look for. 

Which, by the looks of it, he found. 

He set the books down near you, looking at an assortment of random trinkets and bookmarks displayed on the counter. 

You smile, recognizing the titles. “Are you a fan of Austen?” 

His head sprung up as though he hadn’t been expecting you to speak to him. “Uh, yeah. Used to read some of her stuff when I was younger. Thought I’d pick them up again.” 

“Ah, I see. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorites.” Looking up the titles on the rather out-dated computer, you ring them up on the register. 

“Then I’ll be sure to read it first.”  The corners of his mouth twitch up in a semi-smile as his hands retreat into his leather pockets. An odd choice to zip a leather jacket all the way to his chin, but who are you to judge? It's only now you're looking that you notice the scars littered across his face, as well as the few wisps of stark white hair across his forehead. You look down into his eyes, and though it was only a fleeting moment of prolonged eye-contact, it made you feel far too vulnerable.

 Looking away and vaguely remembering some staff meeting about professionalism, you read the total amount due to him. “Cash or card?”

“Uh–cash.” His face blanks, and he blinks twice before digging through his pockets. His brows furrow. “Sorry, I…” his hands pat down his cargo pants before his shoulders slump. His face turns to one of slight annoyance. “I lost my wallet.”

“Oh.” Frankly, you don’t know what to do in this situation, and by the looks of it, neither does he. It's a little awkward—do you suggest he trace his steps? Call the bank to pause all his cards? But he’s paying in cash. Oh god, a thought crosses your mind. Is he a criminal? Fortunately, your mouth speaks before you even process what's coming out of it. “I could…put these on hold for you, if you want?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, and it's embarrassing the way your eyes track the movement. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother. It's my fault, anyways.” 

“It’s not a bother, it happens to the best of us,” leaning over the counter, you point to a small poster with store hours. “I work tomorrow and Wednesday until closing if you want to come in around this same time, but I could tell my other coworkers of the situation if you come in a different day or time.” 

Silently, he stares at the poster. You recline back to your standing position, mentally slapping yourself for sharing your work schedule with a complete stranger who could very well be a criminal. A hot criminal. 

“...You close at eight?” 

“Yes sir, every day except for Sundays.” Thank you for finally showing up, customer service voice. He frowns, lifting his arm and pushing the sleeve of his leather jacket up before looking at you in shock. 

“You're closed right now?” he asked, though it sounded more like a state of a fact. 

You start to fidget with your clothes. “Technically speaking, yes.” 

His hand flies to his face, semi-face palming. “Shit,” he starts to back away slowly towards the door. “I am so sorry, I didn’t know.” 

You smile at his panic, feeling a little amused despite yourself. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” 

“No, it's horrible, I’m horrible.” You can’t help but let out a small chuckle at his apologetic demeanor. By now he's halfway out the door, but turns back at your laugh.

“Trust me, it’s completely fine. I’ll keep these,” you lift up Pride & Prejudice, “behind the counter. Good luck finding your wallet!” 

To that he nods, leaving and walking down the sidewalk in a rush. You stand for a minute, replaying the strange yet exciting interaction, hoping that the man would come again to claim his books. 

You were absolutely going to text your best friend about this when you got home. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♥  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

Jason Todd had lost track of time. Maybe it was the warm lighting that made the strain on his eyes decrease, or the soft music soothing his aching head, or the various earth-tone decorations that made him stay longer than he intended. He had only meant to hide for a couple minutes, enough to get Condiment King off his trail and onto Tims. That was until he spotted Pride & Prejudice on a shelf with the exact cover of the one he read in Bruce's library when he was younger. Blaming it on nostalgia, he picked it up, and before long the quaint bookstore became less of a hideout and more of an actual store. 

In all honesty, he could have spent the rest of his patrol in the place if not for an angry text from Tim cursing him out; something about going MIA and getting the mustard and ketchup smell out of his suit. Snapped back into reality, he found himself with a rather large amount of books he definitely couldn’t fit into his motorcycle bag. 

Through little internal debate, he lowered the amount to three books, Pride & Prejudice, 1984, and This Is It, chastising himself as he made his way to the front. It was reckless spending so long hiding when he was supposed to be out on patrol. Hell, his helmet and guns were thrown behind a dumpster in an alleyway down the street! For all he knew, they could be stolen and pawned by some homeless person. 

But there was just something about this store and its ability to make him lose track of time. 

He hurried to the register, glancing at the super-hero themed erasers. He spotted some of his family's personas, grimacing inwardly. Ever since coming back to Gotham, they had been pestering him to join them at the manor outside of vigilante duties. Personally, he would rather be shot ten times before–

“Are you a fan of Austen?” 

He looked up, a little spooked. Did he totally forget that there was another person here, working? Maybe. Scrambling his head for a response proved a daunting task, and that smile you were giving him wasn’t helping. “Uh, yeah. Used to read some of her stuff when I was younger. Thought I’d pick them up again.”

“Ah, I see. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorites.” You looked through the books, ringing them up on your computer. You seemed almost pleased with his choice in literature. 

“Then I’ll be sure to read it first.” That knowledge, for some reason, makes him happy. From what he remembers, he also enjoyed the tale of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy when he was younger. 

He put his hands in his jacket pockets, slouching a little more than usual as he studied your clothing and your face. You were young, probably around his age and good looking, working at a bookstore; definitely not anyone dangerous. He knew his height and build tended to intimidate people, and despite its uses when he wore the mask, off-duty he rather disliked it. He didn’t look kind or soft the way you did. Conscious of his build and the darkness outside, he did what he could to hopefully put you at ease. 

You turn back to the register, clicking a few buttons. “That’ll be $14.33.” you look back up at him. “Cash or card?”

“Uh–cash.” Legally, he couldn’t use cards since he was supposed to be six-feet under. He moved his hands around in their pockets, trying to find his wallet. “Sorry, I…” Patting down his pants, he inwardly groans, remembering leaving his wallet in his safehouse of the week before going out for patrol. “I lost my wallet.” 

“Oh.” Yeah, he's a dumbass. “I could…put these on hold for you, if you want?” Your voice is hesitant and he swears on everything he will always check if he has money in his pockets before entering another establishment ever again. 

Running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he picked up on, he waves you off. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother. It's my fault, anyways.” 

“It’s not a bother, it happens to the best of us,” leaning over the counter, you point to a small poster with store hours. You're still talking to him, but he looks at your face, noticing small details he hadn’t before, like the unique slope of your nose, the shade of your lips and how delicately your lashes fall over your eyes. When you stop talking, he averts his gaze at what you pointed to. 

“Open Mon.---Fri. 10 A.M. to 8 P.M., Sat.---Sun. 12 P.M. to 5 P.M.” He reads it again, trying to remember the day. Damian wasn’t on patrol, so it was a weekday. “Open Mon.---Fri. 10 A.M. to 8 P.M.” He rereads it once more in confusion. Given the darkness outside, there's no way it wasn’t past eight already. 

“...You close at eight?” he hesitantly asks. 

“Yes sir, every day except for Sundays.” If you were closer, he probably would have teased you about the customer service voice. He checks his watch. His whole body freezes as he reads the time. 

8:34

His head whips to you in confusion. “You're closed right now?”

“Technically speaking, yes.” You seem almost bashful as you answer.

Instant mortification fills his body, and he could hit himself for what he’s done. Not only did he unintentionally skimp out on patrol with Tim in a bookstore, potentially scaring the innocent and hot worker, but he wasted that workers time by wandering around for thirty fucking minutes past closing.  He starts to leave, apologizing to you, and despite your assurances, he can’t bring himself to face you knowing he’s kept you working later than you should. He's halfway out the door when he hears you laugh, and he momentarily pauses, turning halfway to face you. 

You’re smiling.

“Trust me, it’s completely fine. I’ll keep these,” you lift up a book, waving it at him, “behind the counter. Good luck finding your wallet!” 

His throat seems to close up, and whether it's from embarrassment or that smile, he can’t tell. Nodding, he quickly leaves the store, walking in long strides back to his gear. Guilt, shame, and confusion all pile up inside him as he puts on his thigh straps, holstering the guns he put a little more care into hiding. Zipping down his leather jacket, he puts his helmet on, which immediately reconnects to his line with Red Robin. He's met with instant accusations and threats. 

“Wait for me down Fourth and Main, I’ll be there at nine.” He murmurs quickly, grappling to the top of the nearest building before disconnecting from the line. He perches over the edge, watching the lights in the bookstore shut off before you run out, closing and locking the door.

He takes extra care to keep himself hidden from your sight, ducking behind various rooftop structures and grappling to different buildings, silently protecting your late walk home. It’s only when you’ve entered your building and he sees a corner apartment window light up that he leaves. 

He’ll return to that bookstore tomorrow.

[saintagron]

camp counselors.

natalie scatorccio x reader. cw. weed, mentions of death, mentions of arrest. schizophrenic episode mentioned but i tried to skirt around it bc i have little to no knowledge on the topic. an. inactivity hurts... but ap exams and final projects are kicking my ass. so. here's natalie while i dream of summer.

Camp Green Pine isn’t exactly the first place someone would pick to spend their summer. Its majority population is kids under twelve, high off of being away from home for a few months out of the year and not quite old enough to sink into teenaged angst of hating everything and anything—including sleep-away camp. 

And you, yes you, are one of its ever-so-illustrious counselors. You get to chase over-enthusiastic children, most of which are away from home for the first time, around a massive swath of grassy clearing and through dense woods. For a whole summer, too! Aren’t you lucky. 

But the camp’s great, really—despite your frequent (and needed) intervention with the kids. You grew up there, spending summers holed up in the teetering bunks that seemingly shrunk until you realized it was just you growing. You’re not quite sure how your family knows Miss Matthews, whether she’s twined to your family by blood or marriage or a platonic bond so deep-rooted she’s your de-facto aunt. But she’s there, and she’s tall and willowy and smells of sweet flowers, so you’ve always loved her. 

She offered you the job when you were barely teetering at adulthood’s edges. Let a seventeen-year-old watch a bunch of elementary schoolers, that’ll go great. But her trust seemed to be founded. You did well—better than well, despite being the rookie, due to the help of all your early-twenties now-coworkers. 

Now you’re freshly eighteen, just off of graduation and out of school’s clutches—if only for a few months, before you pack off to university in the fall. Rapid changes are afoot, and the future distance between you and your family makes your heart squeeze painfully, so you return for one last summer in that nostalgic, constant place. 

ᰔ

Unpacking there isn’t the big, upending task you imagine university will entail. It’s one backpack and a small suitcase, dragging slightly crooked behind you due to its old, broken wheel. It’s your cabin, the only solo one due to the counselors’ odd number, given to you by “chance,” because Charlotte would never admit favoritism. It’s—

A girl. A blonde, bleached, with half-an-inch of dark roots peeking. A girl, laying in one of the beds, face down and her limbs spread like she’s been flattened. You can’t tell if she’s asleep, so you sneak to the other bed, easing your bag over your shoulder and flinching when your case’s broken wheel catches on a floorboard and tumbles loudly, plastic against wood. Shit.

The girl stirs with a start, head jerking up from where it was buried in her arms. Her gaze, sharpened despite her recent unconsciousness, shoots to meet yours with a sort of panicked width to them. “...hi.” Your voice is awkward and slightly strangled. You’re not used to people your age being here; usually it's twenty-somethings looking for a summer job or experience for their resume, if they’re education majors. But this girl is young, as you are, with the stubborn curve of baby fat clinging to her otherwise slim cheeks.

She grumbles something that could be interpreted as a greeting, forehead falling back into the cradle of her biceps. Her next sentence is a bit clearer, but it catches you off guard for the second time.

“...so what did you do to end up in this shithole?” Her voice is slightly muffled by fabric, but the words are clear—spoken with an easy sort of rasp that instinctively makes you straighten. 

“I… work here?”

“...you’re shitting me.” She rolls over, head hanging over the edge of the mattress. Even upside down, her gaze is striking. “You’re the scout Mrs. Matthews was talking about?” 

The already straight-set to your spine stiffens, bristling much like a cat would. 

“I wasn’t a scout. And it’s Miss Matthews. Or just Charlotte.” You busy yourself with unpacking, setting your things next to the old, sturdy dresser that’s eased against the wall. Before your gaze turns away, you catch the curious, much-to-observational purse to the girl’s lips. 

“..she has a ring.” That makes you bite your lip. Shit. The flesh splits, your skin giving under the harsh pressure of your teeth. You wince, lapping at the blood that pearls. 

“Well, she’s not married.” You’re well aware you’re being snippy, and it’s not the best first impression to give when you have to spend the rest of the summer sleeping four feet away from them, but it’s a painful line of questioning you’d rather not go down. The girl seems to recognize it, and doesn’t say another word about it. 

“...I’m Natalie.” The rasp is softer now, the introduction settling on the front of her tongue. Your mouth plays around the syllables, before sharing your own name with her. 

You don’t push about what she did. She doesn’t push about Charlotte. But they settle between the two of you uncomfortably until you turn away, splintering the interaction with a huff. 

ᰔ

With Natalie here, the summer is… different. You’re not sure if it’s bad, not yet, but it’s certainly odd. You’re used to being the youngest, respected for your experience but still ruffled and pushed like a sibling. Now you have someone your age around to snicker with as the others run around like headless chickens after the all-too energetic campers. 

“God, they really have no idea how to work with kids.” You mumble, leaned back against one of the soaring pines the camp is named for. Natalie sits near your feet, knees curled up. Her fingers tap consistently, almost anxiously. There’s a tightness to her expression but an ease to her smile, so you don’t question it.

“Yeah. They’re not great.” She huffs, her head lolling back against the pine’s rough bark. The heat of your thigh sears close to her hair, the skin close and exposed. You can feel the tickle of the bleached strands, the nearness a pressure you’re not used to yet.

“They’ll get better.” Your voice is soft with memory–remembering those from last year who did not return. “They always do.”

ᰔ

Another thing you discover: Natalie is good with kids. She has this dismissive attitude that makes them flock to her, always beneath her feet and tugging at her shirt and copying her lazy gait. And with all the stock she’s put into being a “cool guy,” she’s awfully quick to shed it at the first opportunity. 

She’ll scoop up a second grader when you’re out at the lake, eagerly filling the spot as the other anchor for shoulder wars—sun-warmed and pretty in the provided green one-piece, smiling at you as the kid pulls her hair like she’s a puppet. She’s determined to beat you but doesn’t let competition cloud her judgement, scolding for bad sportsmanship. She even scolds you, but much more physically than she does the kids—shoving your pout into the water and leaving you sputtering in the face of her laughter. 

She’ll join teams for relays, capture-the-flag, whatever games you play. But, you find, she’s especially good at soccer. Soccer she kills at, eventually setting up little workshops where she runs footwork and shooting drills. Somehow, she even roped Charlotte into one. You haven’t seen Charlotte so happily breathless in a long time. 

She even takes up the mantle she mocked relentlessly, taking up the acoustic guitar from the less-than-capable boy who wielded it to coolly strum out the needed chords. (She still refuses to sing.)

Natalie seeps into the community like a well-stirred concrete, filling cracks you didn’t even know existed. She’s a jaded addition you didn’t know you needed. And having a bunk mate was pretty cool, once you finished mourning your solitude. Throughout the stress of college applications and exams, you forgot what it was like to truly relax. She truly brought it, if with… unconventional methods. 

You weren’t sure what Charlotte’s stance on drugs was—goodness knows she probably dabbled, given how she dressed and the serene way she went about every day—but she’d probably advise against smoking in the wooden cabins. Whoops. You didn’t intend to, not really. But when Natalie tugged out a tin and rolled a blunt for herself, stating that it’s been forever, you’re tempted enough to slink over to her bed and press close for a hit. 

“Leech.” She huffs, but it’s half-a-laugh, so you continue to crawl closer. “Nata-lie…” 

“Don’t.” The bite in it is faux, molar’s broad grind instead of canine sharpness. Her lips twitch and tick around the blunt, her mouth emptying from the word before filling with smoke.

You ignore her command, slip into her lap. It’s easy, when the word lands like a desperate bid for stability. She wants, the brick wall keeping it contained crumbling at your warmth. 

She tightens further as your thumb plays over her lower lip.

“Please, Natalie?” Your simpering faux-pout makes something in her eyes crack. There’s no strength there—you have to gather the pieces of her up and keep her upright. Your lips press to hers, already opening in expectation of her exhale. 

“Stealing my pot.” She mumbles after she’s exhaled, and the laugh that catches in your chest doesn’t mix well with the burn of the smoke. You choke, cough, and she thumps you on the back with a laughed curse. “Shit. Careful.”

“Messing me up. Give me another hit.” You huff, and she raises the blunt to your lips with a bare scoff—already relenting before the burn of challenge can sear beneath her ribs. 

It hasn’t hit you yet, the high—in a few minutes it might be curling through you, pushing your rationality to the wayside. Now, you still have the mind to exhale away from her, tilt your head up and away to watch the smoke dance in the air. She takes the opportunity to latch onto your neck, teeth scraping and mouth hot. 

“Natalie.” You exhale, arms falling around her neck—careful to hold the burning blunt away from her body. She presses closer, hands digging into your sides with a force, as if you’d ever try to pull away. 

“Stop saying my name like—“ the words devolve into a groan, vibrating against your skin and catching desperately in her chest. 

“Like I want you?” You huff, hand tugging her hair hard enough to make her detach. She’s glossy-eyed, her lips not yet swollen but still pink with the evidence of you. “I want you, Natalie.”

“Stop talking.” And it’s just a little bit desperate, the way she licks at the seam of your lips. Presses in and past it, like splitting you open like this would somehow expose the sour core of you. All she’ll find is warm, soft flesh and a pulsating heart. She groans when she does—tugs you further into her lap, the grip of her hands wild.

“Please.”

You laugh, but not cruelly. It’s almost delighted, lips pulling wide around a toothy smile. Words are lost in it. Articulation isn’t necessary—not when the air hums, sticky with summer and bubbling intimacy. You attempt to, regardless, because you’ve never seen someone with a girl in their lap look quite so pained. 

“I’m telling you the truth. I want you, okay?” Her chin tips under your guiding hand, tugging it until her eyes flicker to meet yours. She’s slightly red-eyed, lids drooping. When she nods you mirror it, raise the now-stubby blunt to her lips so she can take one last inhale.

The view’s heat is so intoxicating. You don’t notice how the paper sears your fingers until she tugs it out from between your fingers, brow worryingly furrowed. Her mouth opens around words, but they’re left unsaid as someone pounds at your cabin’s door.

“Wakey, wakey, esteemed counselors! Some kid got himself stuck on the roof. We all tried, now it’s your turn.” 

Roof of what, where, how—you can’t puzzle it. Especially not while (admittedly, very mildly) high. But you’re sure they got themselves into a truly mind-boggling situation. Happens every year. You should just ban truth-or-dare at this point. 

“You signed up for this, scout.” Natalie gruffs, and pushes you off her lap. Anything affronted you might say melts into a groan. 

ᰔ

It was bound to come out sometime. Big secrets only stay under wraps for so long. They fester, grow, no matter how hard you try to ignore them. 

Corpses under white sheets still rot.

ᰔ

Charlotte has an episode. It comes out of nowhere. She’d been withdrawing for weeks, yes, but you just assumed it was because—

Well. It seems you were wrong.

It was a normal morning, the day it happened. You awoke at dawn to the deafening sounds of the morning birds, Natalie heavy and warm and half-draped across you. Rising was slow, the weekend granting time off from activities and only mild wrangling of the children. Charlotte wasn’t at breakfast, but she takes morning tea in the greenhouse occasionally. Nothing to worry about. 

Even when a counselor comes, whispering questions about her whereabouts, you’re unburdened until they confess they searched everywhere. The greenhouse, her cabin, the activities hall—every place in the camp, tree’s roots to the canopy's top, and no hint of her. That is what makes your blood run cold. In that moment you set off yourself—and Natalie, seeing the deep furrow between your brows, follows without a word. 

ᰔ

It’s been five years since Aunt Lee died. She insisted you call her that—it was all you could pronounce when you were young. “Lee! Lee!” you’d babble, and she’d kneel down with the sun in her smile and scoop you up, no matter what. Then you’d be shadowed by Charlotte—Aunt Lottie, then—her long limbs like redwoods compared to your childish ones. You’d latch onto her regardless, and that was how their visits went—you clinging to one or the other. 

You were old enough to comprehend what Aunt Lee being gone meant. You’d allowed your mother to swaddle you in black without complaint and clung tight to Charlotte’s hand as you both gave your last goodbyes. The tears, fat and hot, on your face mirrored her own, and you found solace in it. It’s easier to process grief when you’re allowed to express it, unrestricted. And Charlotte’s own emotion was an invitation, one that led you into her heart. 

So you know now. More than the rest, where she’ll be. 

Your feet carry you down a remarkably untravelled path through the pines. It’s largely uncarved, ferns still soft and intact. Each root and divot is familiar to your fastened feet. You cling to Natalie’s hand as she stumbles, her few weeks of living here leaving her still unaware of how to mold her feet to the forest’s earth. 

She doesn’t ask where you’re going—never says a word. Just follows. Her shoulders are as stiff as yours are, if laced with a bit more anxiety. She doesn’t know what’s happening. 

You didn’t want Natalie to find out this way. Not that it’s shameful—it just isn’t your secret to tell. This is a conversation Charlotte guided you through, anxious and fidgeting like a girl. It’s information she spilled vulnerably, opening herself up to let you see the deepest roots so you’d never be unaware. She should’ve been the one to do it, if she chose to. 

ᰔ

When you reach a clearing, you stop abruptly. Natalie knocks against your back, efforts just slightly slow, her elbow clanging into yours. 

“—What?” You shake your head, press your fingers to her lips—her further questioning cut off.

“Stay here, Natalie.” She waits and watches as you approach Charlotte; the tall woman’s limbs are bundled around herself. Though she seems peaceful, her dark eyes are wide, pupils blown with a yawning darkness. You crouch down, voice lowered and soft around the edges. “Hey, Aunt Lottie.”

She reaches for you then; her hand presses around your shoulder, curling you closer until your knees knock. “Do you think she’s here? I can feel her but I—I’m not sure.” 

There’s no question of who she is. Your lip slips, already split from your worried gnawing, back between your teeth. Childhood habit. “...I’m not sure. I don’t think so.” You breathe, hand curling over her own. She slackens, enough so you can maneuver and press her knuckles into your cheek. “I miss her too, y’know.”

Charlotte doesn’t say a word—just curls you closer and dampens your hair with tears. Your own seep into her kaftan as you sink down to lay in the ferns. She speaks up after a few moments, hoarse and overwhelmed. “I saw her this morning. She told me to come find her. I thought—I thought maybe…”

“...I don’t think so.” You repeat softly; you’ll probably croak before you stop reassuring her and, inadvertently, yourself. Your throat aches with the old, bubbling grief. “I know. I’m really, really sorry.”

ᰔ

Natalie corners you afterwards–after you’d risen and walked Charlotte back to her cabin, helped her into bed and promised to stay. She didn’t interrupt as you sat there, holding Charlotte’s hand until she fell asleep. Instead she lingered in the doorway, a wary mass of worry and caution—a storm cloud that follows you until you sigh and address it, halfway into your own cabin.

“Yes, Natalie?” 

“...you didn’t tell me she was your aunt.” It’s mumbled like she’s feeling petulant, but there’s an acceptance to it—that same one forged that first day. You didn’t ask her, she didn’t ask you. And now it seems you’ll be laying it all out after all. You’d think that you’d be furtive—such a confession is raw, and when coupled with others’ inexperience in grief it can bring oppressive, coddling sympathy. But Natalie is just as burdened, and so it curls from your mouth with little more than a slight hesitation. 

“...she is. She’s—she was married to my Aunt Laura. She passed about five years ago. Cancer—bone cancer.” Chondrosarcoma. You don't think that word will ever leave you—it's seared into every neuron so deeply the char marks are more familiar than anything else. You have to cling to a piece of her somehow.

Natalie looks pensive, slightly awkward—the vulnerability seeping into the cool girl’s gashes, those hastily covered and improperly treated—before she blurts out an equal confession, though hurried and ineloquent. 

“...I killed my dad.” It pauses between you. Her shoulders sag, then tighten. The motion would be imperceptible if you didn’t spend two months staring at her (while she pretended not to notice.) “I mean, I didn’t—it was an accident. But people think I killed my dad.”

“...they gave you community service at a kids summer camp for murder?” That makes her laugh—a clumsy exhale startled out of her. 

“No, no.” She stutters over the words through her laughter. “Just… I might’ve gotten drunk and broken into an abandoned factory. And got caught.”

“You’re stupid.” is what falls from you automatically, met by her “You’re stupid.” that’s just as light and bubbling with her deep chuckle. 

“...gotta say, I think yours takes the cake.” You mutter, a baffled shake of your head following. B&E, and a reciprocal death. Not that it’s a competition. 

Somehow, Natalie thinks it is. Or jumps on the competition aspect as a means to get some sort of prize.

“So what do I win?” It’s enough to make you snort. A tug to her collar, and she’s pulled close—another, and she’s half-curled on top of you as you sink back to sit on the mattress, beds long-since pushed together. 

“My phone number. And maybe a kiss, if you’re lucky.” 

“You want to keep in contact?” She breathes, already looking beautifully affected—lidded eyes and parted mouth. 

“Obviously. And to think I thought you were cool.” There’s no time to be indignant; not when you tug her in so close she’s got no choice but to laugh into your mouth.

[drak3n]

REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA

CONTENT WARNINGS: exes to lovers trope, smut, angst, mean naoya, praise, (consensual) recording and sending of sextape, creampie — scroll down for smut!

sena’s note: i love him no matter what y’all say 😻😻

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who hated his job and working in general; whose father had more than enough money as he owned a lot of buildings and offices all over kyoto

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who had been forced by his father to do something after getting his business degree, something other than enjoying his life, spending his daddy’s money and traveling the world

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who hasn’t really been the same ever since your breakup two years ago; who was in denial for the longest time about missing you until he decided to make peace with his mistakes and move on… try to move on

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who knew you had moved on a long time ago, as he had seen multiple pictures of you with another guy on your socials, pictures where you looked at someone else the way you used to look at him

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who didn’t give a damn about his clients and whether they liked a place or not, but who was still very good at his job due to his cunning and manipulative ways

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who didn’t really look at his next client’s name, all he knew was that they were in dire need of an apartment for one person

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who showed up to the apartment he’d found, a shabby place that was way too expensive for the state it was in, but they didn’t have to know, right?

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who stood in the dim living room on old, croaking parquet with his expensive, shiny dress shoes and crisp, perfectly tailored suit, hearing the doorbell ring

➩ REAL!ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who ripped the door open just to see his ex-girlfriend he had wasted spent three years of his life with

the first thing naoya noticed was that you looked like shit. not even in an offensive way. you just looked terrible. sleepless, sickly, with crinkled clothes and messy hair. back then, you made sure to look presentable even on your worst days.

he didn’t think he’d ever see you again. especially not in such a state.

“naoya?” your voice was hoarse, and you made no move to crack a smile. he didn’t smile either. “my coworker organized this, i didn’t know it was going to be you. i’ll just leave and—”

“stupid. come in.” the apartment wasn’t very inviting, and naoya’s face wasn’t either, but it was better than spending any more time outside in the cold. your jacket was too thin for the weather, as you still hadn’t had time to pick up all of your things from—

“how are things goin’ with your boyfriend?” silence. you didn’t bother asking how he knew you had someone else… used to have. you picked on the laces of your coworker’s hoodie she’d let you borrow, seated on the run-down couch while he opted to stand. of course he wouldn’t sit on a couch that wasn’t made of exquisite, original leather.

“we broke up,” you stated after some time, not quite meeting his amber eyes, “that’s why i need a new place.”

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who almost laughed in your face at that; and who let his bitterness of the breakup get the best of him as he told you that he knew that no one else would be a good match for you, reminding you of the words he had spat at you two years ago

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who didn’t bother stopping you as you left the shitty apartment through tears, and who didn’t care until he received a call from your coworker demanding to know what the hell happened because you hadn’t talked ever since the incident

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who found out from your coworker that you were staying with her, whose jaw tightened when he heard that your ex-boyfriend dumped you for his ex who moved in with him immediately and wanted you out of the apartment

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who appeared at your coworker’s apartment days later — after finally checking the data sent to him by her — while she was at work and you had a day off, and who looked at your miserable state when you opened the door

“do you really want to give that ugly bastard the satisfaction of being all depressed?” he sneered, hands shoved into the pockets of his brown dress pants. you didn’t see how his hands twitched in anger at your condition. he always hated seeing you like that. it was him who was supposed to be moody and grumpy, not you.

“did you come here to make me feel even worse?” you bit the insides of your cheek, feeling self-conscious at how polished he looked while you looked like you were homeless. technically, you were. “you got what you wanted, naoya. i’m unloveable. are you happy now?”

he kept quiet for a few seconds, and you took it as a sign to shut the door. before you could, he stopped you.

“pack your things. you’re staying with me.”

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who didn’t take no for an answer and nearly smirked in victory when he had you sitting in his passenger seat just like back when you were his

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who frowned upon seeing that you only had very few clothes, meaning that most of your things were still over at that bastard’s place

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who heard you crying yourself to sleep that same night in the guest room he offered you, and who shrugged innocently when you asked the next morning how your bags of belongings were suddenly standing in the middle of the blonde’s spacious living room; “someone set them down in front of the door. must’ve been your colleague.”

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who watched you open up more and start smiling again, and who felt something inside of him blossom once more, something that had never quite withered away to begin with

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who couldn’t be happier when you asked if he was willing to try again with you, more maturely this time, and who knew you were dying to get revenge on your shithead of an ex as much as he was

“arch your back more— yeah. fuck.”

a breathless chuckle was heard and you wiggled your hips, face buried in silky pillowsheets as you heard the sound of your phone recording. “n—naoya, please—” his hand massaged the flesh of your ass greedily, and you whined.

your thighs shook in excitement as naoya slid inside of your already drenched cunt, and you moaned loudly into the fabric as you started fucking yourself on the cock you had missed so, so much.

“hey, y’see that?” he wasn’t talking to you. you could tell from how condescending and arrogantly he spoke. “look at how she’s moving so prettily for me. s’your new bitch doing the same for your ugly ass? i doubt it.”

your phone camera captured your body glistening with sweat, shoulders and ass littered with hickeys and bite marks, and naoya made sure to record where your bodies connected, revealing how your squelching pussy pushed out a ring of your combined arousals.

“fun fact.” he kept talking while shallowly thrusting into you, kissing your womb with every push. “she’s lettin’ me hit it raw. never let ya do it, hm? because no one can compare to me, right baby?”

your trembling body along with the muffled squeal you let out was proof enough as you were tipped over the edge, squeezing naoya deliciously. he grunted, hips stilling before he pulled out. in your fucked-out state, you barely registered naoya’s digits spreading your lower lips to record how his cum oozed out of you.

your ex could never.

“and no one can compare to her. fuckin’ perfect pussy. look at what you’ll never have, son of a bitch.”

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who was disgusting, but who grinned widely when your shaky fingers pressed send before you chucked your phone aside to take one or two more loads that night

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Jacob Black (9/10)

WC: 3.5k

“Bells! I’ve missed you!” R gasped, wrapping her arms around the woman. Edward gave Bella’s wife a curt and polite smile and nod which was quick to be reciprocated.

Bella hugged back. She had grown into her body and her eyes were naturally sunken and her jawline more defined. Her fashion had adapted to be far more masculine while her wife was a gorgeous woman named Adele.

Life had changed over the years. R finished university and then her and Edward moved up to Wisconsin. Bella had gone to tech school to become an electrician and had met her wife, so she had moved to Michigan for better jobs for both. R worked as a ecological construction manager and Edward picked up his role as a lawyer. Both women had flourishing social lives in terms of both personal and professional.

Familial relations became strained  on both sides; Mother was focused mostly on her relationship and had grown to be somewhat homophobic about Bella’s choice to not have kids. And Charlie tried his best, but after leaving, emails or calls were almost exclusively asking R to visit to get her childhood best friend off her back. This meant hardly no family gatherings from the Swan side, but that was easily replaced by the love the in-laws showed.

R and Edward had a small yet meaningful wedding at their favorite national park after she graduated and Bella’s followed soon after. Life had became mundane ands the past was the past.

That was, at least, until now.

The sister’s reunion was not met without loss. Although they were tight knit, meeting up had grown hard. So, naturally, for the first time in a few months, it was due to Charlie passing. R was about as sad as one would be from losing a distant uncle or cousin; but Bella looked rather down, her sadness showing in the hug she gave back.

“Big sis… I don’t know how you’re holding up so well… Even if you weren’t that close with dad, I know Forks doesn’t bring back good memories,” Bella sighed, pulling back.

As if their spouses mirrored one another, both wrapped a protective and secure arm around their lovers’ waists.

R smiled sadly and nodded. “I know, but I couldn’t miss it for the world. He was still our father and this was still the place who made me who I am today. I’m sorry I couldn’t help out more with the arrangements.”

“No need to apologize. I know you guys have been trying to interview to be foster parents. Even with Edward’s connections, that’s hard to enter.”

The couples loaded into Bella’s rental car. The drive was nostalgic yet held a lot of pain for R. Her and Edward had done an overnight flight to compromise for the worry he had so many years later about the local tribe; and naturally, a lack of sleep and the environment led to conflicted emotions.

R wondered how Jacob was doing - if he moved on, or at least found satisfaction from other aspects of his life. 

Edward squeezed her thigh tightly. Even Alice could not know what would occur due to the ‘wet dog stench,’ so the future was unknown.

They arrived at the venue. The lot for the church was still rather empty as the procession did not start for another hour or so. The pairs took the time to catch up and discuss more light-hearted topics until people began filing in. Some were Charlie’s old friends and others were distant relatives. Others, coworkers. Quite frankly, it was mostly coworkers, which startled R, considering that to her knowledge, most of his old geezer friends were tribe members that were absent.

But then he walked in.

R felt the air escape her lungs. She had been so swept away with social pleasantries she hadn’t noticed Edward’s intense hold until she met Jacob’s eyes. He had grown up, too. The suit was expensively tailored to his boy type which had become further toned. He had begun growing facial hair with a neat beard and mustache  shaping his sharp jawline. All the boyish features he once had were abandoned to the past, but his almond skin and combed back hair were recognizable, all framing the eyes of a man who has lived life.

She felt drawn to him. Jacob’s gaze found her immediately and she had hope that the past they shared had faded into a respect for one another, even if she could see the melting fondness in his expression.

“Jacob,” R greeted politely, extending a hand to shake and sending a firm smile.

“R,” he replied, taking it firmly.

His hands were warn and rough and nails cut short. By now, she had learned from the internet that his father’s business had been passed down to him upon passing and his business ideas took the brand state-wide. She wondered if he still lived on the reservation. So many questions muted her thoughts.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been… good. You look happy.”

Although his words were observantly firm, Jacob had only mastered complacency. R seemed taken aback by his neutral words and he could sense how much she melted into relief. 

Over the years, Jacob had groomed and trained himself, even at the expense of others. He had been certain all the way back then that how emotional he had been over R was what inevitably drove her away. And although he was angrier and more spiteful than the desperate boy he once was, he had mastered the art of ‘self-improvement.’

“I hope you are too, cubby.” He almost caved then and there. He almost envisioned tearing off the head of that bloodsucker and the entire audience. But he didn’t. “How have you been? I’ve seen you on the news. Charlie told me about you on occasion, too. Are you holding up well?”

Jacob displayed a handsome smile, one that he had chiseled until even a taken woman couldn’t help but admire it. “I have been alright. Life on the reservation was never made for me, so my father passing was the only thing holding me back from establishing my own… identity. And you… haven’t changed at all.”

“Based on what I’ve heard about your accomplishments, I would have almost taken that as an insult,” R chuckled politely. “But no, at least, not in the way you’re thinking.”

R felt her heart beat quickly in her chest. Jacob maintained a foot of distance between them and held his composure, but she could sense it; the imprinting had not left from how he still looked at her. Except this time, there was the intimidation of him being an entirely new man - one that was a stranger and one that she no longer understood.

“Where have you been?” he suddenly asked. “Charlie told me you graduated and moved. Where has life taken my local?”

R felt a sudden wave of nausea and heartache wash over her. Her smile fell and she gulped, blinking back tears. That nickname had triggered something in her; memories came flooding back - not just of what had sent her running, but what made her almost stay in Forks. The Boy she once thought she would be friends with forever.

She suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around the man. Jacob tensed visibly from her touch before reciprocating the hug, hands falling firmly against her back. He hummed so deeply it almost sounded like a trill. The hug felt like an eternity before R sensed to pull away.

Jacob’s expression remained neutral. Edward had caught up to R and possessively wrapped an arm around her waist. The eye contact between the two was cold and tense. Edward pulled a faux smile across his face and nodded. 

“I’m happy you’re well, Jacob. We’ll see you around.”

R turned, but not before Jacob reached and grabbed her wrist a final time. She paused and returned her attention to him briefly. 

“I hope he treats you good, honey.”

Edward released a snarl and R’s eyes darted to Edward. She did not respond to his statement before scurrying off to sit down for the ceremony. R felt Jacob’s eyes glued to her at moments. And during her speech, Jacob stared at her so intently. She wasn’t sure when Jacob left, but it was before the procession had concluded.

After the burial, people dispersed. The sisters decided to confer with special family time - both Edward and Adele were rather clingy (although for very different reasons), both girls insisted on alone time to catch up. R was certain that meant Edward stalking the woodland perimeters regardless.

She tried not to think too hard about Jacob. The encounter was simultaneously relieving and intimidating.

“I guess I’ll break my vegetarian ways for just this meal and get what dad always got, huh?” Bella chuckled, scanning the menu.

“I guess I’ll get my usual regardless,” R sighed. “I was surprised that Harry or Sam didn’t show up. Did you send them invites?”

“Yeah. Not even a reply. Jacob was the only one who replied and showed up… but what about you? How was it, you know, seeing him again?”

“Surprisingly distant,” R admitted. “It was like we were strangers or something. It made me a little sad, but I’m just happy he’s successful now.”

Silence fell over the table until the waitress clammer around to take their orders. Some things never changed; it was still the same woman R and Bella grew up with, except her hair had begun to grey and her skin had become wrinkled with life.

“I…” Bella started, biting her lips. “I wonder if I could have done anything to keep dad from dying.”

“What are you talking about, Bells? I don’t know how he died, but… I know it wasn’t your fault.”

Bella sent a saddened smile as R reached over to grasp at her sister’s clammy hand. “I know you don’t, but I watch the local news station and dad kept in touch with me pretty well. He was pretty unhappy here because of all the workload the animal attacks was giving him - especially after Billy died from one. I told him he could retire and come live with me and Adele, but he turned it down. I didn’t bring it up as often as I should, I think. Especially since he died from an animal attack himself.”

R’s blood ran cold. “Animal attacks…? What kind?”

“People have spotted a really large wolf in the area. They’re wondering if it escaped from a zoo or something… but it doesn’t really matter. I just wish I pressured him more, you know? All of his friends had either died or dropped off the face of the planet a while ago and work was making him so unhappy that I just wish —…”

Bella broke down in trembling tears. R was quick to her side to hug her from behind warmly. Onlookers observed but said nothing. Charlie’s death had put a damper on the town; those that did not know him knew of him. 

Her mind raced as Bella continued to mourn directly into R’s shoulder. She wish she had asked how he had died. She never looked into it, feeling it was better left unknown. But even Edward or Alice hadn’t - a flaw on their part. She wondered if knowing her childhood friend had been the imminent end of her father (and likely his as well) would have changed the outcome of her joining for the funeral.

But Bella would have needed her there, so she doubted it.

R gulped and sighed. “Bella… I don’t know if it’s safe for us to stay here overnight. I think we should go up to Seattle and just go.”

“What? W - why?”

“Animal attacks on this scale aren’t natural, Bells. I doubt the inn will afford us any protection… A - and I don’t think us sticking in the area will do either of our health much good.”

Bella’s mouth opened and then closed. “I don’t think I quite understand the urgency… If you want to leave so badly, we can just… Sleep for the night before leaving in the morning. We can book flights once we get back to the hotel.”

“Bells,” she mumbled. “Please. Trust me on this. I know I might sound crazy, but I don’t think it was just animals that did this. It feels too targeted. I mean, who exactly has been killed by the animals?”

“I think dad, Billy, some other reservation disappearances, and some girls and boys named Jessica and… - wait, didn’t you know them?”

Bella’s face paled as she recognized the pattern. “I… don’t know what that could mean, but… I think you’re right, R. I’ll trust you on this. It must be coincidence, but… I don’t think Forks is a happy place to be anymore.”

R’s heart mourned for her previous life; it was as though something - someone - was killing the happiness of the past. She reached into the back pocket of her suit pants, feeling for her phone.

It did not take long after for to realize it was gone.

“Bells, I know I’m not helping add to the mourning, but do you know where my phone is? I could’ve sworn it was in my pocket, but…”

“Did Edward have it?”

“He would never. He always insists I have it on me.”

“Maybe it's in the car. We can look after we eat.”

“No,” R suddenly boomed before biting her lip and slumping back into her seat. “I just - I feel weird about what’s happening. I think we should just go.”

“But we haven’t even eaten —“

The atmosphere was already quiet, but it became even more quiet as Jacob walked into the diner, no longer wearing a black suit. He adorned a tank top and jeans. R noticed that his tribal tattoo was covered up with something else now, although it was rather hard to distinguish what.

Bella’s eyes widened and recognized how R froze in fear. She could connect the dots that something weird was happening. R and Jacob made intense eye contact. He smiled at her kindly, frozen at the entrance. R only frowned.

Bella slammed a fifty-dollar bill on the table as Jacob made his way over to the bar, turning his back to the pair. R was broken out of her stupor and shivers ran down her spine. Bella grabbed R’s wrist.

“Fuck the food. We should go.”

R was speechless as she allowed herself to be dragged out to the car. Her phone was not there, but she used Bella’s cell to call Edward. Apparently he had already called several times. R was surprised he wasn’t in the area. He sounded panicked and concerned.

“I did snooping, R. The reservation is desolate. There is nothing there. I don’t know where they all went, or when —“

“I know, Edward. We need to get out of here. We’re driving to the hotel. Tell Adele to pack all their stuff up.”

“Yes.” Edward paused. “R… you did not give him any geographical information, did you? No state, no job, no friends you have?”

“No, Edward. I would never. Just… be ready when we get there.”

~~~

“Edward,” R muttered,” I’m scared.”

The pair had arrived at home. R had alerted him of the disappearance of her phone, but Edward had found it at the motel. It smelled no extra of wet dog than it had when the two had spoken at the funeral. But Edward was thorough and diligent. He was insisting they had to drop everything and move; R was opposed at first, but compromise meant they would move to Michigan after R’s letter of resignation was accepted and her vacation days for the remainder of that time period was accepted. Granted, it would take a day or so, as nobody at work was thinking of R. She had taken off a couple of extra days for the funeral, after all.

“My dear,” Edward sighed, pulling R flush against her as they lounged on the grand couch,” there’s nothing to fear. My family will be back from oversees within the day to watch over us. And even so, Jacob could never win against me.”

“He killed his entire tribe, Edward! I thought he had matured when I met him, but clearly he just used that clarity for evil. And there’s no way in hell they were just picked off one by one from what I remember about their system. He must have taken them all down at once - or at least, quickly.”

“Do not fret, my dear,” Edward mumbled, nuzzling his head into her neck and peppering sweet kissed across it. Even after many years, R still had that school-girl crush on the man, flushing a dark red from his affection. Her worries were put on the back burner in that moment as she twisted her body to face him, allowing to shift intentions of his affection.

"Edward," R muttered passionately into his delicate kiss.

“Yes, my love?” Edward’s lips moved lower as his hands slunk up up her bare waist, pulling her t-shirt with them.

“Turn me.”

Edward froze in his movements. The flirtatious air shifted and he almost appeared to be offended. His hands cupped her cheeks. “Don’t say that, my love. He’s been kept at bay all these years. He is still harmless. You have no reason to feel boxed into a corner. I don’t want you be like me.”

“But you’re the kindest man I’ve ever met, Edward. Please turn me. I can’t just rely on you and your family’s protection forever.”

“You can and you will. You’ve never wanted to turn until this moment. Think it through first, but in the meanwhile, allow me to assist in clearing your head, my love.”

[d3adp00ls]

Heyia lovely! Noticed you were taking or rather looking for requests to do with Vanessa from FNAF?

If there still open I was wondering if you were able to a fluffy one, maybe when the reader is related to Mike somehow and she knows he’s struggling with a job so it’s actually her that suggest to Mike to work as a night guard with her, and maybe Mike is overprotective of the reader so when Vanessa turns up he’s like ‘stay away from her’, but their actually a couple, and when Mike just finds out he’s shocked and if your comfortable with it maybe Vanessa giving the reader a kiss or a kiss on the cheek and he like ‘so I’ll see you for date night?’

Overprotective?

Vanessa (fnaf movie) x reader

Summary: basically the request

Contents: fluff, angst (you gotta squint really hard tbh), established relationship, protective Mike, secret relationship

W/c: how about you count for me bbg 😉 (I’m actually so sorry this is so fucking long and idek why)

side note: The only thing I really changed is the fact that you aren't related to Mike and that you're just a childhood friend, I hope that’s okay and enjoy the totally amazing writing that I love so much!! Also, I’m pretty sure this does not fit totally well with the movie's timeline but it does kind of take place during it.

☆★✰✫✯✵✧✥ ☆★✰✫✯✵✧✥ ☆★✰✫✯✵✧✥

You started working as a security guard at Freddy’s about three months ago. Although it wasn’t the ideal job and the pay sucked ass, it had its perks. For instance, you enjoyed watching Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica perform for you, and you also found it amusing to watch Foxy try to beat your high score on one of the old arcade games. It was pretty funny to see him struggle with the machines using only one hand, but it was less funny when he got mad and hit the machine with his hook. However, the best thing about the job was Vanessa Shelly, the officer who came every other night. You met her on your third day working at Freddy’s when she came to introduce herself to you, and you both immediately clicked. Now, two months later, you’re together.

Recently, you’ve been feeling lonely at Freddy’s. Vanessa couldn’t visit you all the time due to her job, and as much as you love the animatronics, you can’t have real conversations with them. Half the time, you’re left in your own thoughts while waiting for your watch to read 6 a.m. Vanessa recently told you that they were trying to find another security guard to work at Freddy’s with you. You were excited about the idea until she told you that you both would only have one shift together. Nonetheless, you were still excited about the idea of not being alone every night on the weeks Vanessa couldn’t keep you company. You just wish they would find a person faster. You were becoming more and more impatient as the days passed. It got to the point where you even asked Vanessa if you could look for someone yourself, which you quickly realized was stupid because you didn’t even know anyone who could do night shifts. You had given up hope of having a coworker and accepted the fact that some weeks you would be stuck at the old restaurant alone. However, one of your nights off changed everything. You were babysitting for your best friend Mike Schmidt, who was apparently out trying to get a job because he beat up some kid’s father at his last one. You had been drawing in the living room on the floor with Abby when he came in holding and reading an orange paper. You furrowed your eyes as you stood up and walked to him. “What’s that?” Mike looked up at you as you nodded toward the paper. He looked back down at it before sighing and crumbling it up. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said with a small huff before looking towards the kitchen and seeing a box of pizza with a half-eaten pie on the table. He looked back towards you with furrowed brows. “Did you order dinner?” he asked while walking towards the kitchen and picking up a slice, feeling that it was still warm.

“Nah, my girl….I mean uh… a friend of mine did,” you said with a shrug, clearing your throat when you realized you almost had a slip-up. It’s not like you didn’t trust Mike with knowing that you had a girlfriend. You knew you could trust him, seeing as you had come out to him when you both were 15, and he was more supportive than your own parents could ever be. However, it wasn’t about sexuality with Mike. It was his protectiveness over the one he loved. He has been going through a lot ever since Garret’s death, so you don’t blame him at all for becoming overprotective about you and Abby. But the fact that you don’t blame him doesn’t mean you won’t sometimes wish he would lay off on the protective big brother act. Sometimes it’s the only reason why you haven’t told him about Vanessa. You were scared of how he would react and that he wouldn’t approve. Mike looked at you with a raised brow, and your heart nearly sank at the thought of him hearing your slip-up. But then a smirk started to form on his lips, causing you to raise a brow before he started speaking. “Oh? I didn’t realize people actually liked you enough to consider you a friend.”

You sarcastically laughed at his words before punching him in the arm, causing him to laugh and move away from you with his arms raised in defense. “Very funny, Mike. Tons of people like me, alright?” you say with a roll of your eyes as you walk back to the living room where Abby is still finishing her drawing. “Anyways, how’d it go? Did you get the job?” You ask as you begin to pick up some of the crayons that Abby wasn’t using. You hear Mike groan, causing you to glance up at him. He’s sitting in a chair with a hand covering his face. “That bad, huh?” Mike shakes his head, moving his hand to tap against the arm of the chair. “I don’t even want to talk about it,” he says with another groan before leaning his head back to let out a huff. You hum in return as you finish picking up the rest of the crayons and placing them next to Abby’s drawings on a table with a smile before standing up fully and brushing your pants off. “Well, I should start heading out. I have work tomorrow, and I have to do a ton of other stuff before then, so I want to get some rest before all of that,” you begin walking around to grab your stuff as you speak. Mike seems to perk up at your words, and you notice it as you go to reach for your coat. The way he practically jumps out of his seat and looks at you almost stuns you with how fast he moves towards you. You notice Abby now looking at you both with a confused look, which you shrug at her before Mike stands right in front of you, causing you to take a step back. “Whoa, what’re-” “You have a job, right?” Mike says so quickly you won’t even think he’s speaking English. “Excuse me?” “You’ve got a job, right?” he says a little slower but still slightly fast. “Yeah? Did I not just say that?” “Are you hiring?” He asks, his face showing hope. You give a sad smile in return as you pull your coat on. “Yeah, we are…but you can’t do night shifts, remember?” Mike sighs, looking towards Abby, who is watching the interaction.

He looks at you returning the sad look.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice at this point.”

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You sat in the security office at Freddy’s, humming to yourself as you watched the security camera with a bored expression. It was Thursday, which meant you and Mike had a joint shift. This was the last day of the week for him and the first day of the week for you. You had arrived a little earlier than needed, so you continued to stare mindlessly at the cameras as you waited for him to arrive. Your eyes began to get heavy, and you were just about to dose off when you saw a car pull into the parking lot and park next to your car. You sat up, looking more closely, and saw Mike get out of the car. You smiled a little, but your smile dropped when you noticed him talking to someone. You tried to squint to get a closer look before the door opened, and Abby got out. “What the hell?” you mumbled under your breath before standing up and walking towards the entrance to meet them there.

“Y/n!” You smile when you hear Abby’s voice excitedly yell your name before she jumps into your arms and gives you a tight hug. “Hey, Ab’s!” you answer, hugging her back before putting her down. “What are you doing here?” you ask with an amused tone. When you look towards Mike, he’s already nervous, knowing you will be on his case about this later. “Mike lets me come sometimes!” she says happily, and you raise your eyebrow at her while looking back at Mike. “Sometimes? You’ve been here before?” Abby nods before running off towards the stage where Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica are all standing, seeming to be happy that she’s there. You watch the interaction between the three robots and the little girl before sighing and looking back at Mike. “She’s been here before, Mike?” Your tone now changes from the one you used with Abby to one more serious. “I know what this looks like, but I swear I have a good explanation,” he says. You raise a brow at him as he continues to speak. “You usually babysit for Abby, but today we both had work, so I tried to get someone else, but I couldn’t find anyone to fill in for you.” “What about that girl who would sometimes watch Abby? Max?” you ask while looking back at Abby to see her and Foxy watching the other three perform. “She hasn’t been answering my calls,” Mike states, causing you to look back at him with a confused look. “Since when?” “Since last Thursday when you took the day off because you were sick.” You nod at his answer before letting out a sigh. “Okay…I guess it’s fine that she’s here. Just please keep an eye on her. The animatronics are cool and all, but they can be a little rough sometimes.” He hums and nods, and you smile at him before playfully hitting his arm. “Now, come on, let’s go watch the show.”

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It was 4 am, You and Abby were playing in the arcade with animatronics watched you both and Mike was god knows where.

Abby had just beaten your high score, much to Foxy’s dismay, and she was excitedly jumping around as you watched her while laughing before you got a glimpse of Mike speed walking towards the entrance causing you to furrow your brows but you just shrugged it off and look back at Abby who is now trying to convince foxy he can beat the high scores.

You were about to start a new game for him but then you heard Mike's voice paired with another familiar one causing you to furrow your brows and move away from the arcade game telling the group that you would be right back before you jogged towards the voices.

when you got to the entrance you saw Mike talking to someone at the door causing you to walk closer to get a look but when you stepped closer you were met with Vanessa walking in with a smile on her face.

“Hey y/n,” she says with a smile and you all but jump into her arm and hug her tightly while she laughs.

“Vanessa!” you exclaimed, surprised to see her. “It’s been forever!” She chuckled at your words and hugged you back before pulling away, leaving her hand on your waist. “We literally saw each other on Sunday,” she said as you pulled your arms from her. “Yeah…but it still feels like forever,” you mumbled as she laughed again, causing you to smile and playfully hit her on the arm. You were so caught up in the fact that Vanessa was here that you almost forgot Mike was there until he cleared his throat, causing both of you to look back at him. “I didn’t know you two knew each other,” he said, throwing a very obvious glare at Vanessa when her hand stayed at your waist, but she pulled away while clearing her throat, seeming to notice the tension between them suddenly. “Uh, yeah, I met her on her third day here,” she said, glancing at you with a shy smile, which you returned before looking back at Mike, who still hadn’t taken his glare off of Vanessa. “Anyway, I’m gonna go say hi to Abby,” Vanessa clears her throat , giving you one more smile before walking towards the group to escape the awkward tension. “You two seem close…” he stated dryly, finally taking his eyes off of her and landing them on you. You hummed while looking down at your shoes, not wanting to look him in the eyes if you decided to lie about the relationship. “She kept me company during my first few weeks here. She’s a very nice person,” you said, trying to diffuse the tension. Mike hummed and nodded his head, his gaze going back to Vanessa, who was now playing the arcade game. “I bet she is nice to you,” he said, his tone a little harsh, making you glance up at him with furrowed eyebrows, but he was still looking at Vanessa, making you clear your throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked him when he looked back at you. Mike shrugged before beginning to walk away from you and towards the others. “Nothing…forget it. Let’s just go.”

As you watch him walk away, you groan and cover your face with your hands. You slide them down your face and glance over at the group. Vanessa is already looking back at you with a playful smile and motions her head towards the hallway that leads to the security room. You furrow your brows and look away from her towards Mike, who is being distracted by Abby. She’s trying to get him to give Freddy a hug, but he keeps telling her no with what almost looks like a scared expression on his face. The interaction makes you chuckle and shake your head. You look back at Vanessa, who is still staring at you, waiting for you to make a move.

You can't help but break into a smile as you playfully roll your eyes and make your way towards the office. Vanessa announces that she needs to put her coat away and her footsteps quickly jog down the hallway. She grabs your arms and pulls you into the office.

Your gasp is cut short when she kisses you, leaving you momentarily stunned. But you quickly reciprocate, feeling her smile against your lips. She moves her hands to your waist and pushes you into the security chair, closing the door with her foot.

As you try to catch your breath, you look up at her and see her licking her lips. She straddles your legs and you instinctively hold onto her waist. She leans in to kiss your ear, causing you to tilt your head for better access.

"I don't think your little boyfriend approves of me," Vanessa whispers in your ear. You groan and push her back slightly to look at her.

"Don't call him that, he's like a brother to me," you say. Vanessa just smiles and kisses your lips again before moving to your neck.

"Well, your 'brother' definitely looked like he wanted to kill me," she teases. You hum in agreement, closing your eyes as she kisses a sensitive spot on your neck.

"Don't worry about him, he'll come around. He can be a bit overprotective at times," you assure her, gently lifting her head and brushing your thumb against her cheek.

"Have you told him about us yet?" she asks, and you meet her gaze before reluctantly shaking your head.

"I haven't found the right time," you sigh, and she nods in understanding.

"Well, you should figure that out soon," she says, getting up from your lap with a laugh and taking off her police jacket.

"But I don't want to," you whine, standing up and grabbing her arm to turn her back towards you. She smirks at you and shakes her head.

"Babe, I'm not his best friend, you are. You have to handle this on your own. But I'm sure it'll be fine. If he truly cares about you, he'll be happy for us, right?" she reasons, gazing into your eyes. With a heavy sigh, you nod in agreement. Vanessa's soft smile reassures you, and you lean into her touch as she cups your cheek.

"So, are we still on for our date night on Sunday?" you ask, and she leans in closer, her forehead resting against yours.

"Why wouldn't we be?" she teases, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You can't help but look at her lips, and she notices, licking her own before leaning in to kiss you once more.

"We probably should get back to everyone," you mumble between kisses, but you don't make any move to leave her embrace. She hums in response, her lips still pressed against yours.

"We should, but I don't want to leave you," she murmurs, making you laugh softly. You meet her gaze again, and she licks her lips before capturing yours in another passionate kiss.

You were so deep into the kiss that you didnt hear the footsteps coming near the room nor did you hear when the door open.

“The fuck is going on?!”

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AHHH I FINALLY FINISHED THIS FOR MY GIRL 🤭😋 TOOK FOREVER BUT I THINK IT WAS WORTH IT!!

Anyways please reblog if you liked it 🙏🏾🙏🏾 and have a nice day/night/evening/wtv

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Tag list - 🌚 ion have one yet

[blackgryph0n]

BillieBustUp: A Boycott?

Hazbin Hotel is implicated, too.

cw: child grooming

Short version: BillieBustUp hired a known child groomer Blackgryph0n/Gabriel C. Brown, and the lead dev Katie Nelson is digging in their heels defending him, claiming that the groomer says he's innocent, and the "haters" are all sockpuppets for his wife/victim's abusive father. The evidence against him is piling up, and it seems like BillieBustUp, a game founded on LGBTQIA and disability representation, will instead be the face of uplifting pedophilia and child grooming. Gabriel is also the voice actor for Hazbin Hotel's Alastor, but only his singing role in the pilot, the song "Insane" which has risen to some popularity.

On June 14, 2024, Twitter user dagobbiEST posted a Twitter thread that implicated the creator of BillieBustUp, an upcoming indie game helmed by Katie Nelson/KatieBlueprint, in defending the actions of the voice actor Blackgryph0n, aka Gabriel C. Brown, who voices the character Barnaby. For those who were present in the My Little Pony fandom during 2014, you will know BlackGryph0n best either for his videos or perhaps for his most infamous accomplishment, which was creeping out many fans with his overly-familiar relationship with voice actress Michelle Creber, who was 14 to his 24.

Blackgryph0n went on to groom and subsequently marry Claire Corlett, Michelle's coworker and friend (and fellow 14 year old) when she turned 20, who was then isolated from her entire family, citing abuse. (The author does not deny that she may have been abused; it is typical for a groomer to pursue a minor who has a strained/difficult family situation.)

The facts are simple: Gabriel met Claire when she was a child, only 14/15, in a position of authority over her as a sound engineer at her voice acting job. The fact that they then later pursued a relationship, even if "she initiated it", implies that there was grooming taking place over the years in between. The groundwork of a relationship was built with a minor, even if it was not overtly romantic until later. For more information on grooming, please see here.

Scads of screencaps were rapidly produced on Twitter after the initial screencaps of the BillieBustUp Discord were posted, including many tweets with proof of Blackgryph0n's inappropriate flirting with the child actresses back to when they were 15 and 16. Gabe's claims that they "became friends only four years ago" (conveniently when she was 20) were quickly debunked as lies, due to all of the overwhelming Tweet and video evidence.

A list of links with more information:

A gathering of some of the most damning tweeted evidence to dispute the "only befriended her when she was 20" claim by Gabe.

A Reddit thread from r/YouTubeDrama concerning the recent allegations and firsthand witnesses to creepy behavior at conventions. Key quote:

"To provide some context, Gabriel knew them from that age because of his work. He is the only notable brony who concurrently worked on the show, though only peripherally as a backup voice/sound engineer for the sound and music team. However, he was around early on, and thus had access to FiM's voice actors, including the then-child VAs of the Cutie Mark Crusaders (Sweetie Belle (Creber), Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo). That's why he knew her from that young age, because his job provided him the opportunity to engage with those teenagers—to a professional limit, but he took it further than that with at least 2 of them." (d_shadowspectre3, who misidentified Creber - Creber voiced Apple Bloom, and Corlett voiced Sweetie Belle)

An informational Twitter thread from 2023 by BronyFandont discussing the grooming with more screencapped evidence.

A google doc of various screenshots, including a first-person witness to Gabriel's inappropriate behavior at a Brony con.

A Twitter thread with eight screencaps debunking the timeline Blackgryph0n tries to lie about, claiming he only met Corlett for extended periods when she was 20.

A Twitter thread by user Wootmaster discussing the allegations back in 2022, in which he adds that several big fandom names - including Saberspark, ACRacebeast and PaleoSteno - closed ranks and defended Blackgryph0n at the time, including leveling harassment at Corlett's father. Saberspark coined the deeply unsettling "It's creepy, but legal" in regards to the situation.

Some of Gabriel Brown's previous brushes with racism also came into discussion, including

A full blown minstrel skit with Michelle Creber (a minor at the time) with giant afro wigs, blaccents, and the fake names "Nikisha Abagale Safron" and "Latoya Aloofa Williamson", posted by ACRacebeast under the title "Bronies React: MLP Generation 3."

Another Twitter thread with screencaps of Gabriel Brown's racism by Helluvareceipts.

Screencaps of the BillieBustUp discord, with clumsy defenses by Katie Nelson in lieu of any official statement.

More of Gabriel's racist and C*vid-denial tweet "likes" have been dug up.

A deleted racist tweet from Blackgryph0n.

A Twitter screencap of Blackgryph0n getting banned from Babscon due to racism in 2021.

During the uproar, BillieBustUp and lead dev Katie Nelson remained notably silent, which resulted in a Tweet about the game's LGBTQIA representation devolving into repeated demands for answers, which were also ignored.

There was an unofficial statement made only on the BillieBustUp Discord group on June 15th, but it wouldn't be until June 17 that an official "rebuttal" was posted on Google Docs by "Katie and Ash". The entirety of the rebuttal can be summed up with 'Blackgryph0n says he's being targeted by sockpuppet accounts and promises he's innocent, and I believe him.'

June 17 also saw a very strange, inappropriate, and immature response from Michelle Creber, peppered with "Y'all"s, emojis, and inappropriately casual slang like "take the L," considering the seriousness of the allegations. She not only stated that Gabriel Brown (a member of the US Navy) is an "incredibly brilliant but brilliant autistic bean" and thus so harmless he wouldn't hurt a spider, which errs so far on the side of infantilization it seems insulting at best, and ableist at worst. Any Twitter accounts that requested clarification or answers were blocked by both Creber and Brown.

What does this mean for you?

What this means is that the BillieBustUp and Hazbin Hotel fandoms now have to contend with the fact that their creators have knowingly and purposefully invited a child groomer into their fandoms, and given them social cachet that they might use to take advantage of minors, as he did during his job as a sound engineer on My Little Pony. The BBU dev team is also ignoring any concerns about a potential threat. This may also mean that, if there are inevitable fandom events like panels, the child groomer Gabriel C. Brown may be present where there are also children and teens, who may not be aware of his history.

The decision of whether to boycott or not is your decision; I cannot in good conscience spend money on a game that will put money into a groomer's pockets and add to his resume. The decision is yours. This post is to shine light onto what the BillieBustUp team and Blackgryph0n/Gabriel Brown desperately want to keep in the dark, and to spread awareness to other social media platforms. And, most importantly, to protect any minors who might be in these fandoms, who may not realize that their idols are not someone they should look up to, defend, or even be in private contact with.

Stay safe, and thank you for reading.

[fly1nglow]

WHEN THE BELLS RING (1).

summary ── steve is desperate to make his work environment a less unbearable place and the newly arrived teacher could be a good distraction.

pairings & characters ── teacher!steve x teacher!fem!reader, some ocs

additional info & warnings ── fluff, slow burn, reader is supposed to be a ‘big city girl’, reader is also kinda anxious, little steve pov inserted, i guess steve is not accurate but i tried my best </3, no warnings besides that, i guess

author’s notes: ok… so this is my first fanfic after sooo long, but this idea came to me in a dream and i wanted to write, i feel like it kinda sucks but i also just wanna have some fun writing again. also… i know this must be annoying but… should i say english isn’t my first language (and that i dont know how the educational system of united states works)? :/, that should be all, pls be kind <3

The breeze passed through the leaves gently, taking some to the windshield, it was a really pleasant scene to enjoy in autumn, but it was also a great change of scenery in your opinion: Hawkins, from what you knew and had seen so far at that moment, it felt like that kind of small town you see in movies, where everyone knows everyone and nothing really happens, very different from what you had grown up with and lived with all your life, which were noisy cities, tall buildings and people who really didn't care. they paid attention to you.

But sudden changes weren't very pleasant either, yet here you were, in a small town in the middle of Indiana.

After taking another sip of your coffee, hoping the drink would distract you from something you didn't yet know you feared, you grabbed your bag and threw in the items that would be needed to survive your first day of work at Hawkins Public School. Your keys, notebooks and books were everything he considered really essential for the day.

Getting out of the car, you clutched the cup with the now cold drink in your hands, placed your bag in your arms, and headed towards the clearly old but friendly-looking building in front of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

Steve was curious to know who would replace Mrs. Brown, because although he got along with most people, his coworkers didn't exactly fit into that category. They were mostly middle-aged people, who thought he was childish, whether because of his age or the way he acted, he still didn't know for sure, but he knew they were his age once and he hoped they would be kinder.

However, he still didn't know how meeting 'the newbie' could help his case, he figured, that maybe by getting to know him first he could get some information and then pass it on to his colleagues, maybe then they would see him as someone helpful and trustworthy, but he still didn't know how that would help him.

It was lost in these thoughts that he found himself in the still empty hallway and in front of Mrs. Brown's old door, now weathered and which he knew made a loud noise when it was pushed in a certain way and now, he was a little unsure, a very different feeling compared to the confident and playful Steve of just a few years ago. But his movements seemed not to follow his thoughts, because now he had knocked on the door.

Before he could step back and get him out of there, he opened the door after hearing a muffled and distant voice say 'come in'.

‘‘Good morning.’’ Steve laughed and hurried over.

‘‘Oh, good morning!’’ A young-looking woman, who was pasting some notices on the wall, turned to face him, left the materials on the table and approached to greet him, as he was approaching.

‘‘I’m Professor Harrington, but you can actually call me Steve, you know, I guess it’s okay, in fact I prefer to be called that…’’

Now he was rambling. He extended his hand for a shake, which she readily accepted. Now closer, he could notice a few more small details about her: her hair was slightly messy, perhaps due to the wind outside, there was also a small piece of adhesive tape stuck near the collar of her pullover sweater, but he pretended not to notice, afraid that she would think he was looking more than he should.

‘‘Well, I’m a physical education teacher. I thought it would be a good idea to stop by and say hi.’’

She then introduced herself.

‘‘That’s very kind of you, Steve.’’

‘‘Well…’’ Steve looked around the room, but his mind was looking for some way to keep the conversation going, or maybe an excuse to leave. ‘‘Do you need help? Do you already know the building? You know I can…’’

Great, he was rambling again. Good way to make a good impression, right?

‘‘Actually, if you guys have a coffee machine, I’d love to know where it is.’’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

You definitely hadn't thought much when you left your room and decided to follow Professor Harrington to the staff room, a small room, with white walls, two windows, shelves full of books, papers, some chairs and tables. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable place you'd ever seen. But you just wanted to distract yourself from the hustle and bustle of your own thoughts, because the first day of work had left you exhausted and it hadn't even started yet.

Also, you weren't the type to jump to conclusions because of appearance, but the first thing you noticed was that Steve had adorable eyes that seemed to match the type of person he was. And at the moment he seemed like a lovely person. That he talked a lot.

He had recently talked about how he grew up in the city and how it was a little strange teaching the children of people he had known all his life. You also shared some facts, about where you grew up and where you studied, all while he observed you carefully and asked some questions to keep the conversation going.

‘‘So why did you come here?’’

‘‘Salary, obviously.’’

You tried to joke and he chuckled weakly at your little attempt at being funny. Steve looked away from your figure, as you were drinking the second cup of coffee of the day, he observed the other person who entered the room, but who still didn't notice the presence of the two of you in the room. This made Steve get a little closer to you, still keeping an acceptable distance but so that only you could hear him whisper:

‘‘That’s Professor Watson, from physics… A pain in the ass at first, but if he likes you, he might get you a discount on drinks at a bar.’’

‘‘Discounts in a bar? Why?’’ You whispered back, while trying to focus on the new figure that appeared: it was a small man in comparison to Steve, his hair already showing signs of getting gray and he had a serious face.

‘‘His sister owns one of the bars in town, she always gives discounts to his friends and colleagues.’’

‘‘And you, do you have a discount there?’’

‘‘No, he hates me. But who knows, maybe you’ll be luckier than me.’’

‘‘Good strategy, Harrington, you barely know me and you’re already trying to use me to get discounts at bars?’’

You both laughed and soon the sound caught the attention of the person who was previously the center of the conversation. Steve quickly distanced himself and silently indicated with signs for you to follow him and then, there followed another one of those social formalities that people tend to forget happened easily: introducing yourself.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

And introducing yourself was the key word and the pattern that followed for practically the entire day: introducing yourself to your colleagues, students and some parents.

The students were as you expected them to be, lively students who preferred talking to their classmates rather than paying attention in class, but, luckily or perhaps your own teaching talent, you managed to get them to pay attention to what you were saying. and they were able to apply their knowledge well to their tasks. As for your coworkers, excluding Steve, your colleagues weren't exactly the warmest and friendliest people you knew, but that didn't take up much space in your mind.

Not long after the last bell rang, you were getting ready to end the day at work and return to your cozy home. Until two knocks on the door distracted you.

Peeking through the half-open door, you quickly realized who it was: Steve trying to be helpful again.

‘‘Do you need help there, newbie?’’

You didn't mind the small informalities when you were quick to decline his help.

‘‘No need, I was already finishing it anyway.’’

He pretended to look disappointed, you couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. You quickly finished your things and grabbed your bag, and left the room with Steve following right behind you.

‘‘You know,’’ Steve began as you both walked down the corridor, ‘‘that’s the good part about being a physical education teacher, I don’t need a room, just some balls and a court.’’

‘‘It’s easy when a good number of children love the chance to be aggressive without being reprimanded.’’

‘‘It is,’’ Steve agreed, a fond smile on his face. ‘‘Kids can be a handful, but they mean well. Today, one of them lobbed a ball right at my stomach, but they made up for it with a lollipop as an apology.’’

‘‘A lollipop," you chuckled, ‘‘the universal peace offering.’’

‘‘If lollipops didn't work wonders, doctors wouldn't hand them out after every appointment,’’ Steve quipped, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

Steve walked you to the parking lot, soon stopping near what you assumed was his car. You turned to see him and to say goodbye.

‘‘See you tomorrow, newbie,’’ Steve grinned.

‘‘See you tomorrow, Professor Harrington,’’ you replied with a playful smirk.

He rolled his eyes and got into the car, making your way to your own car as you watched him get further away. Placing your arms a little closer to your body to avoid the cold, you could reflect a little on that end of the day as you once again observed the parking lot, now a little darker as the sun was already hiding, but which you expected to see for a while, for many more days.

In that silence, you could conclude that the first day of work had not been as horrible and terrifying as you had expected.

[laugtherhyena]

Finally getting this out! Ily doomed women that make me sad-

-Yukari is half Chinese from her dad’s side, she was born in China but moved to Japan with her mother when she was around 12-14 years old after the father's passing. Since the mom never learned the language fully and needed the husband to be her translator a lot of the time, she felt more comfortable returning to her birth country than dragging her daughter all over the place to be her translator.

-Mr.Jiang died from a tuberculosis after spending a long time refusing to get his “Persistent cold” checked, despite his family's pleas, because he felt it was his obligation to keep working hard and providing for the family, by the time he actually went to a hospital there wasn’t much anyone could so because his lungs were severely compromised. His fate is what plushed Yukari towards pursuing a career in the medical field later in life.

-She taught the basics of Mandarin to Hikaru, and also Hamato and Kanata when they were growing up. If she had survived the tragedy, she would have taught it to Benitsuru as well.

-She's a big fan of musicals, be it movies or plays. She says “Super trouper” from Mamma Mia is her and Hikaru's song.

-Going off the previous point, Yukari has a very nice singing voice, tho she's far too anxious/shy to actually sing it for people other than her family. (and even those get her nervous when they catch her doing so)

-She loves cats and thinks the black ones are the cutest, but she's never had any due to being very much allergic to animals.

-Yukari has (undiagnosed) Generalized anxiety disorder. She's generally a very anxious person who can be really hard on herself at times, sometimes paranoia just gets the best out of her and she worries she's failing as a nurse, a wife, or a mother. But whenever that happens her family is always there to reassure her these are all baseless thoughts.

-She works as a nurse in the same hospital as Hikaru, which is how they first met! At the start of her career Yukari was incredibly worried about her performance in the job, so she would take it upon herself to be as objective and professional as possible, almost robot-like as some coworkers would comment amongst each other. So for a while all her and Hikaru talked about in their, very short, conversation was 100% work oriented.

-Keeping up this mask takes a toll on the person though, so when things got too bad she would go to the hospital break room and get into these long paranoid ranting to and about herself. One time Hikaru walked into her in one of these borderline panic attacks and stepped in to try helping her calm down, once Yukari did so she started crying and apologizing for bothering him/taking his time and being a failure of a nurse, which took Hikaru by surprise since she always presented herself as so proficient and knowledgeable that he had no idea she thought of herself that way.

-He went on to reassure her she's not a failure at all and is actually a very competent and capable worker, he also offered to listen to her whenever she needs someone to talk to. From that point onwards they started talking during break periods at work and Yukari started to get more confident in her abilities and work in a more natural manner.

-Overtime friendship turned to love so cue to Hikaru trying, and failing, to ask her out given his lack of experience when it comes to dating and romance. Yukari could tell what he was trying to do, but he would rather wait for him to be able to actually ask her out then go ahead and do it herself. She found his attempt very cute! (And totally brings them up to friends every so often.)

-They dated for a couple years before Yukari got pregnant, this was around the time they were starting to discuss getting married but the topic of kids wasn't anywhere near the horizon by then so she was extremely worried that Hikaru could react badly and abandon her.

-He would never do that, obviously, and when she finally worked up the courage to tell him the news he comforted and reassured her he would be by her side no matter what and they would go through this together.

-Yukari already suffered some prejudice due to her origins and being an immigrant so he didn't want to add “Having a child before marriage” on her shoulders too so they sped up the wedding process so that they would be married by the time Hamato was born.

-While Yukari was super worried about how well she'd do as a mother, especially since she was still in her 20s when she had her first child, she soon realized she actually really likes taking care of kids! So you bet she was as loving and attentive as a mother could be (albeit, a little overprotective at times)

-This is why she was completely on board with adopting Kanata when Hikaru brought up the idea. She was the nurse that saw to her operation and stayed taking care of her afterwards so she was more than happy to be able to call her a daughter, so much so that they took several months off work so she could watch over her and help with adapting to everything after the accident.

-Her liking for taking care of children is also the reason there's such a huge age gap between Benitsuru and her older siblings. Around the time Hamato left for college and Kanata got her HPA acceptance letter Yukari was faced with the realization that hurt kids were basically all grown up and soon enough it would be just her and Hikaru again, so the idea of having another child started circling her mind.

-While Hikaru was a little on the fence at first, he changed his mind fairly quickly since they had raised two children already so why not a third one? They just had to go through a couple fertility doctors given the fact that Yukari was getting into her mid 40s at the time, but at the end of the day she was able to carry out the pregnancy without any major issues.

-Benitsuru was born maybe a year or so before the tragedy, so she and Yukari never got to spend much time together nor did she get to watch her child grow up like she wanted to because she died around the start of the tragedy.

-When the tragedy broke out she was at home with Beni, with a bunch of riots and people killing each other just outside she couldn't just try to make a run for it to a safer place and instead went on to barricade the doors and windows to try and make the house as secured as possible until some help could arrive.

-Yukari's death really was a “Everyone is at the wrong place at the wrong time” situation. Hikaru was stuck in the hospital he worked in because the place was crowded with injured people and a the doors were soon barricaded for weeks to stop despairs and Monokumas from entering and causing further harm, Hamato's college entered a lockdown when the tragedy started to quickly spread everywhere and Yukari couldn't leave with Beni because of the chaos outside. So no one was able to get to them in time to save her, but at least she was able to save her baby by hiding her in a laundry basket.

-By the time the robots starte banging hard on the doors and windows, Yukari already knew deep down she wasn't making it out of there, but until the moment they actually broke in she tried to hold onto the hope that someone, Her husband, her kids, even stranges, would arrive just in time so that she wouldn't need to feel metal claws ripping through her skin.

-That didn't happen, but at least she found solace in the fact that she was able to keep the Monokuma's attention all to herself in that main area of the house. That combined with her remaining as quiet as possble during the whole thing ensured that they didn't search anywhere else in the house once she was dead, they didn't realize she wasn't alone.

-Being maybe an year old when that happened, Beni doesn't really remember anything about het mom. She knows about her from her family, what she worked on, how she looked like. But can you really call that remembering someone?

[castle-of-ruin]

A/N: Hi! So, this story has been in the works forever. I've always wanted to write for Deacon. I've always wanted to write Bodyguard!Deacon specifically. It's something I've thought about from the very beginning of my journey with Swat. I find it important to clarify that this is an au. The events that take place in this story are completely and utterly my own. They are made up and not true. I hope that, as readers, you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Bodyguard!Deacon x f!Reader

Reminder: This is a bodyguard au. It in no way relates to the actual plot of Swat.

Warnings: mentions of injuries, violence, death threats. There are no explicit descriptions of the readers' body type or other features. Brief use of the word 'her', reader is not named, and there is no use of y/n. Mutual pining, use of the word sweetheart.

Other characters: Jim Street, Dominique Luca, Daniel "Hondo" Harrelson

Word Count - 3.2k

Author's Note 2: If I forgot any content warnings please let me know. Once again I hope anyone who reads this story enjoys you. Feedback, reblogs, comments, likes are all welcome and much appreciated. I'm really putting myself out there by posting this story. It's personal and something I'm so passionate about. Happy Reading!!

Disclaimer: I do not condone people taking my work and reposting it as their own. Do not steal my work.

Adding some visual inspiration for the people who care💕

In the Beginning 

When you first began working with criminals, you never expected your life to be threatened. Sure, there were risks of taking a job like this, but all you were asked to do was to determine whether or not a person was classified as fit to go to trial. That meant oftentimes you had to postpone hearings and trials due to a person's mental capacity. 

You understood how upsetting it could be and you understood why people would blame you for justice not being brought forward. It was easy to empathize with those people, but it didn't mean your life needed to be in danger. 

The first night your life was threatened you were just getting home from a grueling day in the office. Your feet ached and your stomach grumbled. Upon your arrival home you found a note taped to your front door. You tilted your head inspecting the letter before you ripped it off the door. Bile rose in your throat as you read the letter. 

I will kill you for what you've done 

The note was scribbled haphazardly and hardly legible, but you were well aware of what it said. Never in your four years of working had you needed to go to the cops. People you'd worked with time and time again. 

The Los Angeles Police Department was unhelpful when it came to answering your pleas. It wasn't until you went to your childhood friend Jim Street that you were finally heard. 

You hadn't seen Jim in over 3 years. After he left for swat the two of you hadn't had much time to get together anymore. You spoke occasionally, but had no time to really see each other anymore. 

When you showed up at his door he was surprised to see you. The greeting was cut short, you were rushed and scared. As you explained everything to Jim, Luca, Jim's roommate and coworker listened carefully. He was actively trying to think of a way to get you helped out. 

"What about Deac's security business?" He piped in. 

The two of them looked at one another.

They spoke briefly to one another about their old coworker. Explaining to you how Deacon departed from SWAT and took up doing security details full time. You nodded as you listened to them. It wasn't a bad idea, but you didn't know how long it would be before something would take place. 

As if they heard you in your head they had already made the phone call. Luca spoke briefly with someone on the phone, you assumed it was Deacon. Jim smiled softly at you, trying his best to give you some kind of comfort. 

You stayed with Jim and Luca while you waited for Deacon to arrive. You felt safe with them and you took advantage of the opportunity to rest. With eyes closed you lulled to sleep for the first time in days. 

Your slumber was rudely interrupted by a warm hand on your shoulder. The action made you jump, and your eyes searched for the culprit. Jim smiled at you sheepishly, apologizing with his eyes more so than with words. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He told you. 

"It's okay, just, jumpy is all." He nodded his head in understanding. 

"He's here." Jim stated. 

You got up and followed Jim out of the den and back into the living room. Luca talked to another man, you assumed it was Deacon. 

Luca turned when he saw you come into the room. His face lit up, he had already accepted you as one of his people. 

"Hey Deac, this is her." He patted the man on the shoulder and he turned to face you and Jim. 

You hadn't paid him much attention before he turned, but you were shocked to say the least. He was a surprisingly handsome man, and it made your heart pound in your chest. 

In the few seconds before Luca introduced the two of you, you allowed your eyes to trace over him. The hair on his head was mostly gray aside from the occasional dark strand here and there, his beard joined in the majority of gray. The black t-shirt he wore hid no ounce of his muscled form. You wondered if he wore a shirt two sizes too small on purpose.

A clearing of a throat disturbed your thoughts. You blinked rapidly and pulled your eyes away from Deacon. Luca introduced the two of you and you shook Deacon's hand. Heat creeped up your neck as he stared down at you, with a soft smile. 

The smile slowly faded and he crossed his arms over his chest becoming serious. 

"Luca tells me you need some protection? Care to explain the story to me a little bit?" He asked. 

You nodded, and took a seat on Luca and Jim's couch. You explained the story to him as thoroughly as you could. Jim grabbed your shoulder in comfort a couple of times when the emotions overwhelmed you. 

"This isn't the usual detail my team and I take on, but you're a friend of a friend. I'll make sure you're safe. I'll work on this personally." He nodded to you and to Jim. 

Tears welled in your eyes. 

"Thank you Deacon." He smiled and nodded again. 

"Of course. Now, first things first. You need a safe house of some sort while I work with my team to track down the people after you. Is there somewhere you can think of that won't be public knowledge?" He asked you. 

You thought about it for a moment before you nodded. 

"I do.”

Present 

The cabin air was frigid as you made your way back inside. Placing the firewood in its rightful place you take a piece and set it on the fire. Rubbing your hands together you enjoy the warmth seeping into your skin. A car pulling into the driveway draws your attention away from the fire. 

Getting up you make your way to the window on high alert. Your guard falls when you spot Deacon getting out of his car. You watch as he scans the area before coming to the front door. He knocks twice on the door and you go over to it to open it. 

When he enters he hands you the bag in his hand. 

"What's this?" You ask. 

Deacon smiles softly, "Dessert." He states and you peer inside. 

Your smile widens upon seeing apple pie and vanilla ice cream in the bag. 

"Damn, Deacon, I'm surprised you got something so unhealthy." You laugh. 

He shakes his head, "I eat ice cream." 

"Doesn't look like it." You mutter to yourself. 

"What did you say?" He asks. 

"Nothing. Ignore me." You shake your head. 

Taking the bag into the kitchen you unload everything into the freezer.  You notice dishes still left over from this morning in the sink and go over to wash them. Under the running water your thoughts drift over the past 2 months. 

It felt like nothing was happening. You felt stuck, and frozen. Like a prisoner with nowhere else to go. This was meant to be for your own protection, but being stuck in your family's old cabin in the woods was driving you to madness. Plus, being stuck here with Deacon, alone for all hours of the day was testing every amount of strength and willpower you have. Which was just about none when it came to the older man. 

Since the beginning of month 2 things have felt different between the two of you. In month one Deacon wouldn't even sit on the same couch as you. He always sat in the chair furthest from you at the small table in the dining room, and he never looked at you for a moment more than necessary. 

Now, something was different.

He sits next to you on the couch and actually joins you when you watch tv. Now, he doesn't hide his lingering gaze, nor does he sit in the chair furthest from you when you eat. The subtle changes in his behavior drove you mad. 

From the very beginning you were heavily attracted to him. Now, even more so. 

"Hey," Deacon's voice draws you from your thoughts. 

"You okay?" He asks. Coming forward and leaning against the counter. 

Your eyes are drawn to the way his arms bulge as he crosses his arms over his chest. You gulp and look away. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

He chuckles and leans forward, your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him. He switches the water off and leans back against the counter. You let out a breath and close your eyes. 

"You were washing the same dish for 10 minutes. Obviously something is wrong." He states. 

"10 minutes?" You ask and he nods. 

You let out a deep sigh and grip the edge of the sink. Tears well in your eyes and you decide not to hold them back any longer. You let yourself cry and put your head in your hands as you lean on the sink. Deacon touches your back and you allow yourself to lean into it. He rubs soothing circles on your back and allows you to cry. 

After a while you sniffle and wipe your face. 

"I'm sorry." You wipe at your eyes and look over at him. 

His smile is sad as he looks at you. Deacon swipes a stray tear from your cheeks and cups your face in his hand. He leans in as if he's going to kiss you but, then the moment is broken when something clicks in his head and he pulls away clearing his throat. 

"Don't be sorry. I'm gonna go contact my team. See if there's any updates." With that he exits the kitchen. 

Fuck. You think to yourself.

For the rest of the day Deacon avoided you like the plague. It made you feel even worse than you already did. Loneliness pangs in your chest as you sit on the couch and aimlessly scroll through the channels. 

Deacon busts into the room and you jump. 

"We have to go now." He states, throwing your jacket at you. 

Jumping to your feet you throw the jacket on and follow Deacon to the back of the cabin. You grip his jacket tightly in your hand trying to stay close to him. He turns and looks at you, pressing one of his fingers to his lips. 

He opens the door quietly and inches out slowly. Deacon grasps your hand in his and drags you out into the woods. The two of you run for a while before he stops. 

"You see that ridge up there?" He asks pointing. 

"Yes," You pause looking at him. 

"Go. Get up there and hide. Don't come out until I come get you." He instructs. 

You grip his arm. "Deacon, what if you don't come back?" 

He grips his phone in his back pocket and places it in your hands. 

"Call, Street. Tell him where we are. Tell him to send the team." He states. 

You nod, with tear filled eyes, and trembling lips. Releasing his hand you take off up the hill and hide. Pulling Deacons phone out of your pocket you dial Jim. 

"Hey Deac," 

"Jim, it's me. Deacon told me to tell you to send the team. Hurry Jim. I'm scared." You sob. 

"Where are you?" He rushes out. 

"Near the Oregon border." You stutter out. 

"Keep the line open, we're tracking Deac's phone." You nod, but he can't see you. 

Gunshots could be heard in the distance. Tears fall freely now, rolling down your cheeks. 

"Got it, we're on the way. Stay hidden." He urges and the line goes dead. 

You pull your knees as close to your body as you can trying to hide away in the dark nook. The gunshots fade in the distance and your heart races faster. Every part of you wants to run and see if Deacon was okay, but you listened and stayed put.

After what felt like forever a helicopter could be heard overhead. Staying in your hiding spot you close your eyes and hope they make it to you soon. You were freezing. 

After a few more minutes you could hear voices and footsteps. Some shouting out how many people were dead, others asking where Deacon was. You heard Jim's voice in the distance calling for you. Now you got up from your hiding spot and went tumbling down the hill. You ran as fast as you could back in the direction of the cabin. 

"Jim!" You yell his name when you finally see him. 

He comes running towards you and you slam into him. Hugging him tightly, tears once again falling freely. His hand goes to the back of your head as he holds you close. 

When you pull away you search his eyes seeing if they hold anything. 

"Where's Deacon?" You ask. 

There it was. Jim averts his eyes from you for a brief moment. Something the normal eye would never pick up. You grip his arm tightly. 

"Jim please, tell me." You beg.

"He's alive, but he's been shot. Plus some other injuries. He wasn't conscious when we wheeled him out of here." He tells you truthfully. 

Your shoulders sag. "Is he going to be okay?" You ask. 

"We don't know yet. Come on, let's get you out of here." Jim wraps his arm around you. 

"But, it's not safe." You stop. 

"It is now. Has he not told you?" Jim asks. 

You tilt your head. "What do you mean?" 

"Deacon, and his team were able to locate the men who threatened your life. He had me, Hondo and the rest of the team go in and take them down." He pauses for a moment. 

"Some got away. They had found your location and we couldn't get to them before they left. We were just barely able to warn Deacon before they showed up." He finishes. 

You haven't cried this much since your childhood pet died when you were 16. A part of you died that day with him. Now, here you were crying over a man you may never get to see again because he too might be dead.

Jim leads you to the helicopter and helps you get in the seat before doing so himself. You watch the land below get smaller and darker the higher into the air you go. Jim grabs your hand and squeezes it for a moment. You know it was him trying to comfort you. Jim had never been good at that. 

Being able to go back to your home felt wrong. It was crazy to think that two months living in the unknown would change your entire view on your life. You desperately want to go to the hospital to see Deacon. Make sure he's okay for yourself, or see for yourself he's not okay. 

Jim agrees to take you to the hospital. Upon arrival you notice how many people were there for Deacon. He was held in high regard amongst his former teammates. It was a sight to see. 

Someone calls your name and you look in the direction of the voice. The man you knew as Hondo approaches you. 

"We've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you." He tells you with a genuine smile. 

You nod, unable to form words of any kind. Your throat was sore and scratchy. Making it feel impossible to speak at the moment. You need water. Once again reading your mind, Jim appears with a bottle of water in hand. You smile thankfully at him. 

"Thanks." You croak out.

You find a seat and wait with the rest of the people in the waiting room. The hours tick by as all of you wait for an update on Deacon. 

Three hours after you get to the hospital a doctor comes out of the OR doors. Everyone stands, and the doctor's eyes widen. 

"Are all of you here for Mr. Kay?" He asks. 

Everyone nods. The doctor takes his glasses off and wipes them before adjusting them to his face once more. 

"He's going to be fine. Recovery will suck, but he will recover. Gunshot wound, cracked ribs, fractured arm, the list goes on. It's a good thing he has all of you." He nods. 

"Can we see him?" Your quiet voice pokes through the crowd. 

"It's after visiting hours, but I can allow one of you back." He states.

You expect someone to go back and see him, but when no one does you step forward. Jim nods at you. You found it odd the people who have known Deacon the longest would allow someone who's only known him for two months be with him while in this position. 

The doctor nods and gestures for you to follow him. He leads you down the hall of hospital rooms and stops when he reaches Deacon's door. 

"I'll have them bring in some blankets and pillows. If you don't plan to stay, let me know." He states. 

"No, I'm staying." He nods and leaves. 

You examine the small hospital room. The monitor beeps to the rhythm of Deacon's heart. This is the first time you've seen him in over 5 hours. You weren't sure if you ever would. 

Taking him in you frown at the sight of him. A bandage on his left cheekbone, busted lip, a splint on his right arm. He was a mess, all because he was protecting you. 

You pull the chair over to him and sit down beside him. 

"Damn you, Deacon." You whisper. 

You grab his open hand into your own, looping your thumb around his. He didn't close his hand around yours, but that didn't matter. Feeling his pulse thump in his wrist was enough. You lean your head down and place it on the bed, closing your eyes. Allowing yourself to take in his warmth. Meaning he was very much alive. 

A nurse enters the room and gives you a soft smile before setting up the small bed in the corner of the room. You silently thank her. Your eyes snap to Deacon when you feel his fingers wrap about your hand. 

His eyes are just barely open as he looks at you. 

"I'm sorry." He croaks out. 

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." You raise your eyebrows at him. 

"Scaring you." 

"Deac, you saved my life. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who needs to apologize. I'm the reason you almost died." You grip his hand tighter. 

He laughs, then groans in pain. 

"It was my job sweetheart. You don't have to apologize either." He reassures you.

"I guess we both need to stop apologizing." You laugh out. 

"I guess so." He gives a small smile. 

You rub his arm softly and he watches you do so. 

"You should get some rest." You tell him as you stand up. 

He watches as you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. Your breath catches in your throat as you linger a moment longer contemplating things in your head. His beard scratches your cheek as you loop your arm around his neck in an awkward hug. 

"I'll be right here if you need me." You tell him. 

He nods. Flicking the light in the hospital room off you make your way to the small bed in the corner and try to sleep. 

"Goodnight Deac." 

"Goodnight Sweetheart.”

Tagging a few who may want to read it : @obiknights @chelseasdagger @streakyglasses

A big big thank you to @spnshortcake for encouraging me to post this. I'm grateful for you. Thank you love ❤️.

[kulemiwrites]

Osamu Kashiwagi | Little Blue Pill.

Part: 1 of 2 Genre: Romance, SMUT Rating: 18+ Word count: 5.6k Character(s): Osamu Kashiwagi, fem!Reader, Kanda (OC)

Warning: Implied but unspecified age gap (reader character should at least be assumed as 21+ for logical reasons- use your discretion to fill in the gap!), prostitution, mourning, let’s pretend shelf life doesn’t matter lol.

Note: I know in Y7 he's referred to as 'The Bartender' but for simplicity's sake, we're just gonna use his name. It's not like this is following much of a canon plot anyway lol.

Read on AO3

Kash takes a pill.. for science.

The unlit cigarette dangled from his wet lips as he slipped on his sport coat, his worn reflection staring back at him in the dusty, old mirror. He tilted his head to the side, sizing himself up; a dark gray turtleneck, khaki pants, the black sportcoat with black oxfords. He’d asked his newest bartender Rika, a twenty-something for advice on a trendy outfit for a man of his age. He wasn’t expecting her to volunteer to shop with him but staring at himself all gussied up, he supposed she’d done the job. He just hoped that you would be pleased with it. He slid the sleeve of his coat to check the time on his silver italian watch- a gift from you for his recent birthday- and saw that there was still an hour until he was meant to meet with you.

A brow twitched as he patted himself down in search of his lighter. Wasn’t it the exact same time when he last checked? Was the watch broken or something?

Nerves. 

Ever since he opened his eyes and really saw you, he found that his nerves were getting the better of him. Perhaps that was why he was so impatient. 

You were a bartender at a lowkey little bar he happened upon while on some business in the next town over. It was a little run down but it was quiet and had an excellent selection, almost on par with Survive (without the markups) which was questionable due to the overall ambience of the place- the college kids either hadn’t found it yet or it wasn’t trendy enough for the younger crowd. He appreciated the silence, though. 

Many nights he’d drink and reminisce while reading bottles. It reminded him of his younger years, nights out with the men he once called brothers, long before the name Osamu Kashiwagi meant anything.

As if it’d been assigned to him, he’d find himself sitting in the same barstool slotted between the wall and the short end of the bartop. It had the best view. He could see it all, from bar to wall to entrance. His drink order was always the same, muttered in the same gruff tone that signaled to the others that he was there for his drink and not an ounce of additional conversation. No one managed to get further than that or rather, no one ever wanted to, that was, until you showed up.

There weren’t many things Osamu cared for in a fellow bartender other than the ability to serve a good drink and to never keep him waiting long. You’d done well. However, over time, observing you and your coworkers he noticed something that stood out about you. Your effortless grace as you navigate your way behind the bar, your sweet smile as you serve your patrons and that candid concentration as you carefully crafted beverages to be proud of. Oftentimes, observing you took precedence over the counting of missing and cracked ceiling tiles.

Sparse rushes were his favorite, watching the way you kept your cool as orders continuously poured in, never once would you lose that subtle curve to your lips. 

You loved this. He could tell. Adored it.

You were radiant, much too radiant for a place like this and he often wondered why you were there in the first place until he remembered that smile– the answer to his question. 

Every time. 

Some nights he wanted to whisk you away from Twilight and have you work at Survive instead but in order to suggest that, he’d need to know more about you. So, he let down his wall but only when you served him.

He found you to be a natural conversationalist and despite the obvious gap in your ages, you were certainly wise beyond your years. Never had there been a time where he felt at a loss about what to talk about with you. You were kind, quick-witted and courteous. He often wondered if you were capable of having bad days because you were always ‘on’. Challenging your knowledge about the bottles behind you was fun too and more often than not, he wound up being schooled instead. Some of it was so good that he found himself using it back at his own bar.

In the beginning, he’d only visit a couple times a month but the more he got to know you, the more he found himself drawn to the place. Eventually, it’d gotten to the point where he’d leave his place and suddenly find himself on the train as if he’d been teleported– never really making the conscious decision to go on his own but he’d wind up there, hoping it’d be you serving him. 

Then, on days you weren’t there, he’d be met with a pang of disappointment and the drinks were never as good.

For a very long time, he’d denied that he’d seemingly developed a bit of a crush on you. Your occasional playful but lighthearted flirtations weren’t lost on him. He just downplayed it and told himself that you were like that with all your regulars- it was just your style; but he’d been observing you well enough to know better than that. Still, he couldn’t imagine that a sweet young thing like you would even give an old codger like him a second glance let alone flirt so brazenly. It wasn’t until one particular night that he was forced to realize that just as much as he’d been paying attention to you, you’d been doing the same to him.

He had shown up at Twilight that night, taking his usual seat at the bar– that night, emptier than usual and before he could huff out his typical order, you’d already placed it in front of him. He met your eyes, so full of concern and grumbled a ‘thank you’. You took a look around the bar, likely aware that he would be one of your only customers that night and you placed your hand atop his. 

“You’re not looking like yourself tonight, Kashiwagi-san.” you said, just low enough for him to hear. 

He stared at your hand, heart doing somersaults in his chest as pangs of guilt filled his gut. The warmth of your touch felt almost like a cure for the dull pain he was feeling inside. Staring at your smooth, pretty hand, he was filled with shame. There he was, mourning the loss of the one woman who had ever meant anything to him while simultaneously feeling at peace from the touch of another. 

“Is that so?” he said, balling his fist against the counter to hide that he’d begun to tremble to which you withdrew.

“What’s troubling you?” you asked, then gestured toward the empty bar. “As you can see, I’m all yours tonight.”

He opened his mouth, his bottom lip quivering as he’d gone to speak but instead said nothing. Osamu felt compelled to open up to you though, he was never much for talking about his feelings. Only one other person had done that for him and so again swelled his guilt. 

He remained silent.

“Not in the mood to talk, huh? I know just the trick.” you winked, “How about I make you something special?”

“Special?”

“Very special!” You drummed on the counter and beamed, “I call it The Kashiwagi Sidecar. It’s a cocktail I crafted… with you in mind.”

His brow quirked, “Me?”

“Yes, you…” you said. “Now, I know that The Kashiwagi Sidecar doesn’t quite have a nice ring to it.”

He disagreed.

“But, I want its namesake to have a taste and share some thoughts. If you like it well enough, I’ll put it on the secret menu– after you help me rename it, of course. Oh, but close your eyes, you can’t see what I put in it.” 

“That sounds a little suspicious.”

“C’mon, don't you trust me? It’s just so that we can play a little guessing game.” you whined.

Playfully clicking his tongue and inhaling sharply, he rested his eyes shut. “Oh fine but, know that I have a good nose. So, no funny business.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.”

He couldn’t see a thing but he’d watched you make hundreds of drinks by now that he could practically picture you behind his shut lids, graciously gliding behind the bar, collecting what you needed and then putting them into the shaker before mixing it all. He could bet every yen in his wallet that you were sporting a sweet smile as you did so and he ached at the fact that he couldn’t see it.

“Alright, everything is put away. You can open your eyes.” you said, pouring the mixture into a martini glass and garnishing it with a citrus peel.

You placed the orange concoction in front of him and he smiled for the first time since he entered the bar, “The Kashiwagi Sidecar, huh?”

You gestured for him to try it and with your nudge, he swirled the cocktail a bit by his nose, taking in the notes of tangerine and bourbon. Finally, he placed his lips at the rim and took in a polite sip, then let it rest in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it down. He took note of how tart it was when it first hit his tongue but mellowed into a subtle sweet, but smoky finish. 

It was good... Delicious, even.

Closing his eyes, he titled back his head, Adam's apple bobbing as he swiped his tongue over his lips, “That’s certainly bourbon.”

“Which bourbon?” 

“Top shelf stuff for sure.” He swiped a thumb over his lip as he thought, “Stagg… That smoky sweetness is unmistakable.”

“Wow.” you whistled, impressed. “Go on.”

“Liqueur…” he hummed, “Grand Marnier, maybe?”

“Damn, Kashiwagi-san! That's correct. Uh-huh, what else?”

He opened his eyes to see yours sparkling back at him hopefully as he took another sip. He pinched the stem of the glass as he twisted it around, “And… orange juice?”

You cheesed, seemingly happy to have stumped him. “What makes you think that?”

“The orange peel.” 

“That’s a tangerine peel.”

“Ah, damn it… Tangerine. What else did I miss?”

“Just a splash of lemon juice.” you said with a pinching motion.

He clapped, “It was right there on the tip of my tongue. I could’ve guessed that.”

“Ah ha, but you didn’t.” you said, wagging your finger teasingly.

“You win this round.”

“I know I do. Now, drink up, we’ve got some brainstorming to do.”

“I’m not sure I can name your drink.”

“Sure, you can. We’ve got all night.” you said, leaning onto the bar. “And while you think, maybe that little cocktail will loosen your lips enough for you to tell me what’s going on.”

He was just about to take another sip until you said that. His dark eyes studied your expression, so genuinely curious about the man before you. Osamu’s head dipped toward his lap as he let out a small shudder, barely noticeable but he wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d caught it anyway.

“Today’s the anniversary…” he managed, staring at the counter as he pictured her face. “Eleven years now, she’s been gone… My wife.”

“I see.” you said thoughtfully. “I’m sorry to hear that, Kashiwagi-san.”

“Don’t be… It’s… Well, it’s been over a decade now. It’s time I move on.”

“They say that time heals all wounds but I can see the pain that you’re in. A decade or not, you can’t tell your hurt when to go away. Even if it takes you another decade, you will conquer this. There’s nothing wrong with taking all the time that you need... You loved her, didn’t you?”

He wanted to joke that he wasn’t sure if he even had a decade left but he didn’t have it in him. 

Instead, he nodded, smiling softly at the thought of his late beloved. “More than anything.”

“Then, don’t force your heart to part with her when it’s not ready. No one is rushing you. So, don’t rush yourself.” you gripped his balled hand and smiled. “If it helps, you can talk to me about her. I don’t mind lending you an ear. I’d rather you do that than keep it all bottled up. After all, what are friends for?”

He wasn’t sure what brought it on but a single tear rolled down his cheek. He felt it but he was too stunned by you to react. The timing wasn’t exactly ideal but at that moment, he recognized you. 

Truly recognized you. 

And goodness did he find you beautiful. 

He swiped at the tear dangling from his chin and chuckled lightly, “I suppose you're right.”

Your nose scrunched at him and his heart flipped, causing him to blink away from you. It was such a cute expression and his cheeks burned when he realized that he felt that way. Guilt consumed him once more. And just after he’d opened up about his wife. 

What the hell was his problem?

“So,” you said, smacking the counter playfully. “Have you got a name for me?”

He lifted the glass to his lips as they curled softly at the rim, “How about ‘The Usual’?”

“The Usual?”

“Well, I’m going to need you to start making these for me from now on. I don’t think I’ll have anything else. After all, you did make this with me in mind, right?”

“I like it!” Clasping your hands together excitedly as you bounced on your toes. “Sounds casual enough.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled as he watched you clean the counter behind you. He wasn’t sure what came over him but he didn’t realize what he’d done until after he’d already opened his mouth to invite you for a round of drinks at Survive someday. With a smile, one that told him you hadn’t been expecting the sudden invitation, you agreed. 

It wasn’t necessarily a promise but he did look forward to the day that you walked through that door. 

Night after night. 

He told himself that if you showed up, he would invite you out for dinner just to explore his curiosity in you– nothing more. 

A single dinner couldn’t hurt, right?

The night you entered the bar, he nearly lost his breath. Perhaps even had a heart attack. He’d never seen you in casual clothes before but he was stunned. This was the true you and you overwhelmed him without realizing. 

He served you that night with his mission in mind but he could never bring himself to say the words. When you left that night, eyes glossy from the alcohol, he felt an ache in his chest, disappointed in himself for missing his chance. 

A couple weeks had passed without him going to Twilight, he couldn’t bring himself to face you. That was until you opened the door to Survive once more, in all your radiance. Fate was giving him a second chance. With his nerves steeled, he told himself that would be the night. 

No excuses. 

That was until one of his regulars, young– closer to your age, perhaps, handsome and charismatic approached you with the intentions of wooing you enough to convince you to hit a love hotel with him. Osamu watched him do this every Friday night and he was almost always successful. He just hoped and prayed to whoever was listening, that tonight would be the night the young man failed. When he heard you reject him, he hoped no one noticed his sigh of relief after having eavesdropped on your conversation with bated breath. 

When you asked to close your tab, he covered it for you and exited the back of the bar to walk you to the door. This wasn’t something he’d usually do when a guest was leaving but he was on a mission and he didn’t want to be standing behind the bar if you found it in yourself to reject him as well. This was a very real possibility that he was painfully aware of but he finally stopped allowing fear to dissuade him. 

You looked over your shoulder at him, obviously curious as to why he’d followed you outside.

“Thank you for covering my tab again tonight, Kashiwagi-san but you don’t have to do that every time I visit.”

“It’s no issue. I want to make sure you’re well taken care of. After all, it means alot to me that you chose Survive to spend your evening off…”

There was a lengthy silence as he stared at you before he cleared his throat and spoke up again. 

“I… I’m sorry if this is too forward but, I would like to get to know you more.” he said, fire ravaged him from the inside out. He could feel sweat beading around his hairline. “I was hoping that you would allow me to treat you to dinner sometime?”

Why the hell was he speaking so formally all of a sudden?

Your eyes widened for a moment and he couldn’t read your expression. So he braced himself for rejection. That was until you smiled brightly at him and nodded. 

“Are you asking me out on a date, Kashiwagi-san?”

“I… suppose I am?” he nodded. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“And here I thought I was gonna have to ask you myself.” you chuckled lightly, rummaging through your bag for a pen and something to write on. “I’d be more than happy to go out to dinner with you. Here’s my number.”

“I’ll– I’ll give you a call soon and we can make plans then.”

With a light grip on his forearm you smiled, “Don’t keep me waiting long. I’ll die from the anticipation.”

And he didn’t. He’d given you a call the next day to set up something for your next day off– a dinner date at the best sushi place in town. He spared no expense that night. He made sure you had more than enough to eat and drink. He took care of your taxi. He even brought you a small gift of appreciation. Nothing elaborate, just a gift box of candies he’d heard you mention once or twice before. 

Despite how nervous he’d been that night, the date went off without a hitch. He learned so much about you and was already dying to learn more. He even told you more about himself, namely how long it’d been since he’d last attempted to take someone out on a proper date. Hence his nervousness. 

6 years.

He’d only attempted to date someone once since his wife’s passing and he realized back then that he wasn’t ready to move on yet. Everything the other woman did, reminded him of his wife which was likely why he was drawn to her in the first place.

It’d been a lonely 11 years. 

He’d gone from being reminded of how much he was loved every single day, even when he didn’t deserve it to suddenly forgetting what being in love felt like. 

He still felt guilty when he first took you out, wondering if it had been too soon still- if he was even ready but when he noticed the emptiness he felt when you were away from him, he couldn’t help but call for you again and again.

Between regular dates or visiting each other’s bars, there was hardly enough time in between for him to miss you. He couldn’t stand the feeling. He was always wanting to hear your voice, smell your scent, be near your warmth but even so, after months at this, your relationship didn’t progress past a meager kiss at the beginning and end of each meeting.

He liked you more than words could explain and he knew that the feeling was mutual but he couldn’t bring himself to make any moves beyond that. The kiss was more than enough for him for a while. However, he could tell that you were past desiring more than that. It was clear from your heavy eyes and lingering touches. 

He held your hand when he walked you home and he embraced you tightly when you reached the door but each time your tongue attempted to slip past his lips, he’d break away from you with a soothing rub of your shoulders and bid you goodnight before you could attempt to invite him inside. 

He wasn’t sure what you thought of this. He wasn’t sure how to broach the topic but he was certain that you would say something soon enough. Everything had been going so smoothly between you two, but this was the one part that he was dreading.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to go further with you. The heavens knew that he did. These past weeks have been especially painful as he’d found himself thinking of you in ways he hadn’t thought of another woman in years. It brought him shame when the dates came to an end and he sat on the rim of the tub stroking his half hard cock to the thought of placing you in various positions– the sounds and faces you’d make. Then, he forced himself to bury those thoughts after he came so that he could face you once again. 

The desire to make love to you wasn’t the issue. It was truly alive and well but on nights when he attempted to convince himself to accept when that invitation for ‘tea’ was extended, memories came rushing back that made the longing in his loins dissolve with a quickness. 

And everytime, he’d go home leaving you wanting. 

You weren’t the first woman Osamu had been in the position to have sex with since his wife’s passing. Nor were you the first since he’d attempted to date 6 years ago. Getting there wasn’t necessarily the issue, making it happen was and that was where he’d been stumped multiple times. 

He could still remember the first time it happened. It had been a few years since his first and last attempt to date and he had no interest in trying again but he was encouraged by Kanda, a friend and fellow widower, to visit a parlor that he recommended. He was given a huge pep talk beforehand about how it didn’t mean anything. 

It was just an ‘outlet’ for all his pent up frustration, a haven for release but once he’d gotten into the room, he was met with more frustration than he’d initially entered with. 

The woman, beautiful and talented, put her everything into trying to get a rise out of him- a literal rise and nothing. It horrified him like nothing has ever horrified him before. He apologized as he hastily threw his clothes back on and was out of the door with more than 30 minutes left in his session. 

He went home that night and stared himself down, furious that his dick had betrayed him like that. Eventually, he relaxed and told himself that it was only because he’d pressured himself too much. 

Everything was fine. 

It’d only happened once. 

Everything would be fine.

But that night haunted him and he couldn’t just leave it there. So, he told himself that he would give it a bit of time and he would try it again- someplace different. 

Then, it happened again.

It dinged his confidence in a way that nothing else ever had. He couldn’t wrap his mind around having this sort of problem. Back then, all he had to do was see his wife remove her bra from under her shirt and he was up and raring to go. Sure, he’d been an older man, but did that sort of dysfunction begin so soon? 

He hoped that he still had time left. 

One night, he had been walking through town when he was accosted by a barker, advertising a parlor that acts as a hostess club on the surface. He heard all about it before in his bar. These sorts of things weren’t his scene but his ego was shattered and he was desperate to prove himself. So, he went. He spent more money than he should have and he was invited for an ‘after hours date’ which was just code for a hookup with the sweet girl he’d been wasting his yen on all night. 

She was younger, perhaps in her early 30s and she was perky, enthusiastic… She reminded him of his wife when they were younger. Just… boobier. That realization helped him get hard but it’d been so long since he’d been inside someone that he’d lasted all of two minutes and that was being generous. 

The woman was nice enough to offer to spend more time with him but once the clarity washed over him, the amount of money for less than 3 minutes of sex, he was so embarrassed with himself that all he wanted was to get far, far away from the place and never, ever look back! 

The third time was not the charm; twice he couldn’t get it up and once he finished much too soon. He was convinced that anything beyond that would be cursed to end in heartache and disappointment too. His ego couldn’t take it anymore. So, he didn’t even try no matter how much he thought about it.

Some time later, he had been over at Kanda’s for a night of drinking as they often did. He couldn’t quite remember how it happened, likely due to his whiskey intake but he confided in his friend about his ‘problem’ and Kanda– ever the solutionist, left the low table for a few minutes, only to return with a solemn expression on his usually goofy face.

“Show me yer hand there, Kash.” he said, his words almost slurring.

Osamu blinked slowly, so inebriated that his audio processing was slightly delayed. Narrowing his eyes at the man, he carefully extended his palm. Kanda’s eye contact was intense, almost uncomfortable to keep but Osamu could tell that he was trying to communicate a lot to him without a word. 

He was just too drunk to decipher it.

“Here…” he muttered and from his fist a soft clacking fell into the other man’s palm.

When he removed his hand,Osamu’s eyes widened cartoonishly. He felt as if they were going to pop out of his head. His eyes darted from his palm to Kanda from Kanda then back to his palm.

“The hell is this?” he growled, his upper lip curved in a snarl.

Except, Osamu knew precisely what he’d been holding in his hand. He was sure that not one man his age couldn’t identify that cool, blue, diamond-shaped pill from anywhere.

“Call it a little pick-me-up.” Kanda started, “It’ll help ya out.”

He dropped the pills, Kanda must have given him at least six or seven, and they scattered across the table. The other man looked at him but didn’t say a word. He was sure that he had known he was embarrassed. They’d known each other like the backs of their hands by now.

“I don’t need any– I’m not taking something like that.” Osamu said, his tone harsh as he looked off to the side of the room. “I don’t want it.”

“Kash, listen to me… Ain’t nothing wrong with gettin’ a little help every now and then,” he said, picking up the scattered pills. “It’s been a big help for me… Hell, I– I’ve been takin’ these since before I lost Yuzuru.”

Osamu’s ears perked up at the mention of the other man’s late wife. And finally, he looked back at his friend.

“This has been a problem for me for… a while. Ya ain’t alone in this. And that’s why I’m tellin’ ya. Ain’t nothing wrong with ya if ya take it. Y’ain’t less a’ man…” he said, suddenly sounding far away despite sitting in the same spot. “If ya get embarrassed over this, well, that’s yer pride doin’ the talkin’... It happens to the best of us sometimes an’ when it does…”

Kanda neatly placed the pills that he gathered as close to Osamu’s side of the table as he could reach.

“Ya prove it wrong.”

On the walk home that night, he remembered feeling them rattling around in his pocket. Again, the whiskey prevented him from even remembering when he’d put them there– if he had been the one to put them there at all. He thought about them the whole stumble to the corner, the entire taxi ride home and a majority of his shower before he decided that maybe Kanda was right.

He would give them a try.

He made sure to do it on a night when he was sober with no other obligations, just in case something went wrong. He’d heard horror stories before. So, he was extra special careful and treated it almost like a ritual.

He placed the diamond on his tongue and downed as much water as he could to ensure he’d flushed it down. He rummaged through an old box where he’d hid his old dirty movies from his wife and he popped it into the DVD player. His flesh began to feel hot. So, he stripped himself bare and stretched out onto his futon. The opening scene in the movie was a particularly steamy one with an actress that Osamu had always been fond of. When he saw her undress, he felt himself twitch alive. His heart pounded against his chest and his mouth went dry. 

It was happening. 

He usually cringed to himself at the corny lines the actors spouted out toward each other to build the sexual tension but even that was enough to make his cock jump with excitement. He lifted himself slightly upright to admire himself, standing at full attention, precum leaking onto his slightly hairy stomach. A soft smile found its way upon his lips as if he’d just run across an old friend and was thrilled to catch up. 

Osamu gathered as much saliva as he could in his mouth before spitting onto his cockhead, eyes batting at the warmth. He wrapped his own rough hand around his shaft to spread it from base to tip, easing the glide of his palm. He thumbed the prominent vein on the side of his thick cock, sensitive to the touch and he let out a soft moan, gripping the sheets beneath him with his freehand. 

His mouth fell open as sighs of relief slipped out of him. His brown eyes bore into the screen ahead of him once more. He watched the man’s pixelated cock slam into her matching pixelated pussy. His stare was intense as he tried to imagine what the star looked like beyond the pixelation- all he could make out was that she was hairy, one of his favorite qualities about her and imagined that it was his cock that she’d been whining over instead. 

“Please! Do it harder!” she cried, reaching down to stimulate herself in time with the actor’s thrusts and he did try in earnest to match them himself.

He tossed his head back and groaned. His cock was rock hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he stood so solidly and the thought made him chuckle for the briefest of moments until he’d cut himself off to let out a sound of pleasure- a deep, guttural moan. The sound of his fist pounding against himself filled the room until it was all he could hear. As if he’d forgotten about the porn he’d been watching. He shut his eyes and reminisced of the best sex he’s ever had… So long ago.

God, he missed her. 

He silenced that thought. This moment was for science. He was conducting an experiment. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted with negative thoughts. He spent enough days forcing himself through sad masturbation sessions; his erection coming and going, his heart and mind half in it. He hadn’t made himself feel this good in years. He almost forgot what it was like, how great it could feel. Even so, he sucked his pink lip, glossy with spit, into his mouth at the thought of how he’d gladly trade this moment for the touch of a woman instead.

“Ah,” he sighed, gripping the base of his cock tight as he threw himself back onto the futon. “Fuck… Fuck.”

He tuned back in to the pretty moaning on the TV. It was such a long scene and he was nearing the end of it. He’d been masturbating for at least twenty minutes and he really felt like he could keep going but he wanted to cum with the woman moaning on the screen. It’d been so long since he’d gotten to make a woman cum. It was always an honor. He wanted to simulate that experience at this moment.

He wrapped his strong fingers around himself even tighter, quickening his stroke to bring himself closer. 

“I’m gonna cuuuum!” the woman whined.

He lifted himself just enough to see the screen and muttered in the smallest of voices, his ears hot with embarrassment but he pushed through it. “Let’s cum together, sweetheart.”

This was his favorite part of the scene. Even his dick remembered it. The woman moaned and flailed dramatically for the camera while Osamu’s toes curled as he gripped his tightening balls. 

He groaned, almost loud enough to drown out the TV. Ropes of hot, white seed shot out onto his abdomen and chest, as he panted and twitched through his orgasm. He continued to stroke himself until he could no longer. 

Finally, his hand fell from his throbbing cock, still half hard even after all that. It took him a while to catch his breath and as he did, he extended his hand, admiring the amount of cum he’d spilled onto himself and its reach. His hand, his stomach and chest. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. 

“Fucking Kanda…” he sighed. 

Part 2 still in the works (yall know how I am)

[noyoucantpinmedown]

Kaylee Hackett headcanons

18 years old during game events. 12 years old at the time of the Harum Scarum fire (because the Hackett timeline makes no sense, so we make our own)

As the youngest and only girl in her family, as well as being raised in a tiny rural town, Kaylee is quite naive and sheltered.

She is extremely well-meaning and compassionate, but assumes that most people are the same way. So surely people would understand her, um, condition if she could just explain, right?

She shares that denseness with Ryan (our beloved emo himbo), who she considers her best friend. She befriended him through Caleb back when they were kids, but nowadays Kaylee is the one that keeps in touch the most, mostly through email, because it's the next best thing to mailing letters, but free.  

Her family has gone to great lengths to hide the literal skeletons in their closet (or bodies in the lake) from her. They don't realize that Kaylee has also learned to keep secrets.

Dreams of going to college in New York to study social work and is frantically applying to colleges. However, her grades suffered in highschool due to coping with being a werewolf and her family's precarious financial situation, so that gets in the way of her getting accepted into many places. The Hacketts also can't afford and don't want her to move too far away given her condition.

With the help of Travis, she's been allowed to attend community college at a nearby town.

Travis is her favorite relative besides Gammy Constance. Kaylee often tries to defend him when the rest of the family gives him shit and Travis vouches for Kaylee to be independent within reason. She has the spare key to his apartment and sometimes crashes there.

Constance always wanted a daughter, so to have a granddaughter was a blessing for her. Since Kaylee's mother Amelia died due to complications after her birth, Constance became both grandmother and mother to Kaylee. She is the only family member that can openly disagree with Constance and not get a verbal (or physical) smackdown.

Works at North Kill Library during the off season and spends her summers as an unpaid worker for her father’s summer camp. She's also the go-to for babysitting and other odd jobs around town.

She hates working at camp. She's that coworker who has been at the company for way too long and is one minor inconvenience away from having a mental breakdown. For her father and the kids, she puts on a happy face, but her brother and the counselors know her to be in a terrible mood all day every day.

At Hackett's Quarry, she and Caleb are an extra set of hands helping out whenever needed. Kaylee is also tasked with keeping the camp stocked and making supply runs. She often worked closely with Nick because of this, and would ask him a lot about what Australia is like.

Her crankiness at camp is also partly because she's going through nicotine withdrawals. Kaylee has been smoking since she was 16, when she found her brother's cigarettes, but avoids smoking at camp because if caught, she would never hear the end of it from her dad—especially because the only people that know about her smoking are Travis, Caleb and Ryan.

Uses reading as escapism and has read every fiction novel in North Kill Library. Go ahead, ask her for trashy romance recs. She'll hook you up with the good stuff.

Listens to female country artist and 90s female rock. It helps her channel the deep dissatisfaction and resentment she feels. Stans Courtney Love.

[sonicasura]

Man or MAG: Main Route

Here is the MAG section of our species swap with everyone's favorite himbo! This is the main route as Mina's path will have her own post. Kafka ain't gonna have fun either way that's for sure. Warning this does get a bit dark with mentions to inhuman experimentation and PTSD. Let's get started.

Kafka is 24 years old when he fails his latest attempt at the Entrance Exams. The day has already been terrible for him personally. He didn't make it through the first part, the company van gotten wrecked so he had to walk, and it was raining like hell.

Kafka was about to walk home when a mysterious man approaches him. The guy explains that he's with a side branch for the Defense Force who focus on dropouts. He heard about Kafka's recent failure and offered him another shot through a special program.

A deal that honestly sounded too good to be true. Yet, the last promise Kafka had made to his childhood friend would do him in. He takes the offer and meets the man at an agreed upon location tomorrow. This was the last day Kafka would be seen by anyone.

In reality his 'provider' actually worked in a shadowy organization with links to the black market. Due to the rise in kaiju attacks, high paying officials wanted special 'guards' to protect their assets. Individuals with the kind of power only seen by the Defense Force.

Thus they delved into experimentation involving kaiju DNA in what would be known as Project MAGNUS. Super soldiers with increased size, enhanced strength, heightened aggression but also made to follow orders by their select 'handlers.' Kafka had become their latest test subject and they aimed to break all of him.

He would undergo grueling experiments as his genetic code is shattered n stitched together like clockwork. These high stressed tests were made with the purpose of triggering the kaiju DNA inside Kafka to activate. Only then would he be ready for 'reprogramming'. It took 6 months for the man's kaiju side to activate.

Kafka would skyrocket to 15'6 in size with his muscle density doubling in the process, dark grey scales swiftly covered his arms/legs/sides of his face/torso sides, teeth growing into fangs so large they overtook his cheeks to form a massive mouth(like his kaiju), a large black scaled tail came out his lower back, twin white long horns burst from his forehead and eyes became blood red slits.

The newly made MAG would go on a vicious rampage. Kakfa brutally kills everyone inside the building he been imprisoned within as all were guilty. He is soon found by Toku, his fellow Monster Sweeper, within an alley. (There was a corpse cleanup nearby where the MAG ran off to afterwards.)

The man quickly recognizes his missing coworker and decides to help Kafka. You can say the Sweepers become very protective of their transformed coworker. Everyone pitched in to find Kafka a safe, comfortable place to call home and help him feel like a person than just survive.

Sometimes the MAG's aggressive nature would come to the surface so his sweepers find kaiju for him to fight. If the Defense Force get too close, then they send a signal out for Kafka to run. There have been a few sightings of the MAG but not enough for him to land on the DF's radar fully.

It would remain like that for years until Reno joins the Sweepers. The young man immediately felt something was off when he was assigned to this particular crew. Like something is watching him with sheer curiosity. It didn't help that his coworkers would ignore sudden discrepancies on the corpses they work on. (Power tools don't leave behind bite marks.)

He uncovers the truth when Kafka is forced to save Reno from the spider Yoju. Things only escalate further as the MAG would find his nest been invaded by a particular tiny Kaiju. One that triggers a panic within him upon the words 'Found You' before shoving itself down his throat.

Kafka reacted much more violently with this forced transformation due to PTSD wrought from the experiments. The new No.8 stands around 23'4 in size, his lower arms/lower legs/jagged back spikes/horn tips now a blood red, has an extra pair of smaller arms underneath his main pair, four horns with a smaller pair in front of the main, mouth reached half way down his neck, and large obsidian batlike wings bearing torn red membrane. Reno immediately called the Sweepers as he seriously needs help to look for the now runaway Kafka.

They would find the upgraded MAG getting soothed by Ami(the little girl) and her concerned mother(Futaba). Interestingly, Kafka's red highlights had turned a soft blueish green as both recounted how he not only saved them from the Spider Yoju but healed the mom with his scales. Whatever had altered his form somehow stabilize the man's unstable DNA.

This becoming more apparent as Kafka suddenly shrinks to a more humanlike state. (He's around 6'8 but still have some monstrous features like small horns, short tail, faded scale 'patterns', and sharp claws.) Kafka will now change forms depending on his mood with content/relaxed leading to his smaller humanoid version.

The kaiju inside him seems to be responding to the MAG's innate desire to keep his humanity. Maybe it could turn Kafka back to the way he was before. Or at least make this monstrous side more manageable.

Although the Monster Sweepers will have to be careful. Kafka has fully landed himself in the Defense Force's radar but more unstable sources shall make themselves known. Whether he can be a man or become a monster only gotten a lot harder than just dangerous.

That's all I have at the moment. For now, enjoy a song that came to mind involving our himbo in general: Monster by Fight The Fade.

[gloriousmonsters]

HECK yes. worstgirl time. (a lot of these are still vague and taking shape and i need to actually figure out when i want to place her death date etc etc...

that said

she had an absent dad (stepped out to buy cigarettes and fucking died) (velvette thinks he just ran off) (all the Vees have daddy issues, this is hers) and a mom who fell into alcoholism due to depression/shit jobs, leaving Velvette to be raised by the TV, fashion magazines and the Internet whenever she got access to computers. so i feel like that explains a lot

I'm toying with the idea she was put in foster care as a teenager, which she was pissed about because she LIKED being essentially a free agent in between the brief moments her mom noticed her existence and they had screaming matches, thankyouverymuch

she was severely bullied in high school for her obvious poverty+being a weird alt girl+the noticeable mental illnesses (mainly anger issues where she would explode and threaten people messing with her, or pick fights with teachers).

was never internet popular or successful in the fashion industry during her life, just an aspirational mean girl who learned a lot about Internet success but didn't have time to implement it for herself, and had a lot of big dreams (mostly involving being handed fashion awards while the bullies from her high school cried)

had turned thirty just a little while before her death, and was experiencing existential terror over how she hadn't found success yet and was going to start becoming a decrepit old maid

owned a lot of ball-jointed dolls who she'd make little outfits for and also be quietly insane with at the end of a hard day (velvette sitting on the floor with two dolls re-enacting a conversation with a coworker: wow, [velvette]! now that you suggest THAT outfit, i see that my idea is stupid and bad! i'm going to go kill myself now!)

(bonus tiny after-death headcanon but. doesn't collect dolls anymore, but will refer to her models as her 'dolls' or 'dollies' sometimes, always in a fake-sweet possessive or threatening tone. it's usually a sign she's pissed with them.)

struggled with ~love~ due to (a) mainly being attracted to guys who were dating other people or out of her social circle/league (b) being a weird little creep whose trouble with conducting normal relationships only increased the longer she went without one and grew more desperate and was ashamed by that and became more cold and aggressive with stronger outbursts of desperation and etc, vicious cycle

ok I've had the vague idea she was killed when she just kind of hit her limit one day and went into her workplace to kill someone (a model or actual designer) she hated--uncaring if she caused some collateral death on the way-- and got killed in self-defense, but now I'm thinking about her working in marketing/advertising specifically because it would both fit her after-death role and because being forced to promote/design ideas around someone you loathed seems like a good source of 'i'm going to fucking murder them' stress

that's all that comes to mind atm 👍

[the-insomniac-emporium]

SWORDTEMBER '24, DAY 11: PATCHWORK

Item ID: E6-2411 Item Name: Sir Teddyson the Brave Category: N/A Origin Point: Unknown Owner: Unknown, Dockworker? Description: A medium plush stuffed animal, worn from many years of being carried around. Traditional Earthen design, somewhat resembling the now-extinct polar bear. This item, referred to as a Teddy Bear, is a common comfort item for human children. Close to the left leg of the bear is a small tag, labeled with the bear’s name: Sir Teddyson the Brave. While many traditional bears do not come with accessories, this item is dressed as an Earthen warrior known as a knight, equipped with armor, a cloak, and detachable sword with shield. Due to the item’s age, it has been previously torn in several places. These spots have been thoroughly repaired with new stitches and, where necessary, scraps of different fabric. The end result is a patchwork of materials that has clearly been adored for several generations. Cataloger’s Notes: If we don’t figure out who this belongs to, I am going to cry. This lil guy has all the markings of something passed down between family members. Who knows how many children have held this thing? How many parents or older siblings have worked to repair the damage, just to ensure a young one will have something to comfort them and keep them company.

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Nobody seems to know where the bear came from. It has all the marks of something accidentally left behind by another employee, having been found in the parking lot instead of in the loading bay, but so far no one has inquired about any lost items. As such, it had fallen to Cynthia to catalog the item so they could legally put it into temporary storage. Only a handful of the FPA’s employees are human, and she was the first one in for the day, so she had been deemed the best fit to handle such a “culturally significant” item.

Currently, she’s in a video call with Naomi, trying not to get too emotional while talking about the bear in her hands. To her credit, Naomi is listening intently, occasionally offering up anecdotes about her own childhood plush (a teddy styled like a ronin, whatever that is), and overall being very supportive. They’ve been talking for over an hour now, the time passing without notice, and Cynthia has just about finished her write-up on Sir Teddyson.

During a quiet moment, with Naomi stepping away to talk to her brother about his planned homecoming, the sound of footsteps and voices grows louder from the hallway. A moment later there’s a knock at her office door, and she presses the button to let them in. Immediately the conversation pauses, and a rather frazzled looking dockworker steps inside. He’s a Bophellian, a bipedal species with slanted eyes and a thin layer of fur covering the body, with traditional silver jewelry adorning his pointed ears. In one hand he holds a phone, the other covering the device’s speaker.

“Hi, hello, I’m so, so very sorry to interrupt, but-” the man (Xerro, according to his nametag) says, stopping when his gaze lands on the teddy bear. That’s all it takes for him to visibly relax, a rush of air coming from his lungs. Quickly, he says something into the phone, the speech too fast for Cynthia’s translator to parse. “Again, sorry to interrupt, but my daughter left her Knight Bear here when my wife picked me up yesterday. We spent a couple hours looking for it last night, but I see you’ve found it”

Relief fills Cynthia, and she’s more than ready to hand the bear over (she’s never been introduced to Xerro before, but she’s talked to the other dockworkers enough to hear he’s a beloved coworker). Still, Xerro hangs up the phone after confirming that he found the bear, and proceeds to provide photo evidence of the bear being his daughter’s. Apparently it had been given to her by her birth father, who had passed when she was only a few years old. Since then, her mother had married Xerro, who had been more than happy to raise the little one, regardless of a difference in species.

It was a very cute story, all in all, with some adorable photos (including one where Xerro was dressed up in a homemade knight costume for his daughter’s birthday). By the time he left, Sir Teddyson in hand, Cynthia felt her heart full with joy. Once his footsteps faded, she resumed her call with Naomi and updated her on the conclusion to the story they had become so invested in.

[3terna15unshin3]

Hey I have a request for a blurb. Matty and Este are both so career driven but what about something that makes them consider next steps? They’ve been together a few years at this point. I was just thinking about Este thinking she might be pregnant and Mattys reaction. Even if she isn’t but then they have to talk about what they both want from life and how old they are. Fluffy more than angsty?

Late

Este might be pregnant

2102 words

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a/n: thank u sooo much for the request!!! In the past i’ve been feral at those interview clips of Matty talking about pregnancy scares and being up to have a baby and whatever so I am very much into this concept😝😝 I hope this is what u were looking for!

(I wrote a whole 15 chapter fic of this universe! read it here first if u want more Matty and Este 😌)

—

Este sighed, finally finishing her newest review and preparing it to be sent for approval. Her office was quiet, void of the few coworkers she shared it with due to the late hour. She’d called in the day before—a migraine and funny stomach holding her hostage—so she had a bit of housekeeping to deal with, and stayed past her usual time.

Once she’d packed up and left to her and Matty’s north London home, she sat in her own little world on the tube. Headphones tight over her ears. But as she stared down at her phone, the funny feeling her stomach came back.

It wasn’t uncommon for Este to get a bit motion sick; so she pressed the power button to turn off her screen. Avoiding her device would clear up the sickness eventually.

But it only got worse. So bad that when she got off at Queen’s Park Station, she walked the long way home to prolong the feeling of the evening air. Este thought about how a hundred years ago, doctors used to prescribe ‘sea air’ as a cure for being unwell. As if a walk on the beach could bypass a disease. She liked that idea, and suddenly yearned to be on the shore. To take in the smells. To eat some fish and chips. Fish and chips sounded really good, Este thought.

Matty had been working from home that day, corresponding with Jamie about some boring label stuff and hopping on call with his financial advisor. A pretty chill day, compared to the type he’d been working lately.

So, when Este arrived home, she found him on on the sofa with his nose in his laptop, Keiko crumpled against his thigh. She dropped her bag and politely shoved Keiko to the side after giving her a few pets, and took the spot in Matty’s lap instead.

“Hey.” he said with a chuckle, not even hearing her come through the door and smiling at the surprise. He buried his hand in her hair with love and studied her face that stared up at him. That’s when he noticed how the expression on her face was laced with discomfort. His eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything alright?”

Este pouted dramatically, making him roll his eyes. She giggled. “Yeah. Just feel a bit poorly from the tube home,” she explained, nuzzling deeper into his touch.

“From the tube? Since when do you get sick from the tube?”

Her shoulders shrugged. “Maybe I’m just not fully over what I was feeling yesterday.”

Matty pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. It felt normal. “Want me to run us a bath?”

She smiled at the sweet offer, and the fact that he knew that she loved a bath when feeling under the weather. But the more she considered it, the more she cringed at the thought.

“I was going to say yes, but a bath honestly sounds like the last place I’d want to be at the minute,” Este admitted.

He was taken aback. His hands grabbed Este’s shoulders to sit her upright and look at her head on. “Who are you and what have you done with my Este?”

She closed her eyes weakly and laughed—though it quickly turned to a grimace when the movement in her torso made her ache even more.

“Seriously, love! I don’t think you’ve ever declined a bath. Even last year when you had the flu and I was sure you’d pass out from the heat. You still said yes,” Matty pointed out.

“You’re right,” she agreed, “But don’t worry, I’ll just get some sleep. See how I feel tomorrow—“

“Have you had your period?”

They paused together after Matty interrupted her. It shut Este up quickly. Because she hadn’t.

She silently shook her head no in his direction. Wide eyes plastered her mug. “It’s late.”

Minds spinning, they sat quietly for another beat.

“Do you want me to go and get a test?”

-

Este took a wee on the stick. Matty set the three minute timer. And they waited.

“What if I am pregnant, Matty?”

They sat hip to hip on the edge of the bathtub as the clock counted down.

“I think I should be the one asking you that,” he responded, “Whatever you feel is right. That’s what we’ll do.”

She looked over at him in wonder and in slight apprehension. The overhead lighting casted shadows onto his face, showing its angularity and structure. It looked sharp, like it was carved out of something solid. But somehow it was sweet and soft. Peering at it was easy.

“But the next album. Tour. You either miss everything with me or you postpone your career. I couldn’t make you do that,” Este leaned her head onto his shoulder.

Matty’s hand wandered around to the opposite side of her waist and found home there. “Fuck that.” he said shortly. “There’s always time to release an album or to do a tour, darling. We can do that next year. The year after. 2040, even, if we need to. But this is right now. If you think I’d choose my ‘career’ over you, then you’re crazy.”

The timer beeped.

“I guess this is literally right now,” sighed Este, nerves bubbling throughout her body. She grabbed Matty’s chin to pull him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he said, like he always did. “By the way—if there is a baby and what you want is to walk to a clinic and get rid—then I’d also support that,”

She laughed at the way he waved his hand in casual dismissal when he said ‘get rid’, grabbing it tightly as they both stood up and prepared to look. Matty had a sheepish grin on his face after succeeding in making her laugh during such a heavy moment.

They perched their feet in front of the sink, where the test laid. And after a quiet ‘Three, two, one,’ in unison, Este flipped it over.

It was negative.

Just to be sure, she took the four other tests that came in the pack that Matty bought. They were all negative.

Este then gave her GP a call to meet with her the next day and get to the bottom of her mysterious illness; now that pregnancy was off the table (at the appointment, she would come to learn that she had developed a slight sensitivity to gluten. She would also eventually get her period—a small but loud 4 days late).

Now sat back on the sofa, Keiko sprawled across their laps, a certain weight was lifted off the both of their shoulders. But, the future still seemed up in the air.

“What if those tests were positive?” asked Este, “Do you feel ready to have a baby? Is that something you want?”

The answer was easy, for Matty. “The idea of being a dad does excite me,” he explained truthfully, “It’s just been the question of when would be the right time—because of how busy and weird my life gets. And also just the fact that none of my previous relationships got to the point of even considering it, since they haven’t been you. But I feel like me and you are cut out for anything. I’d be ready, for you.”

She smiled and grabbed his hand to fiddle with it.

“I also look at the way we are now. Passionate about our work, Keiko, living life fully. And I think that if a baby never happens to fit into the picture—whether that be by choice or just by chance—then that would be okay too. It’s me and you. It’ll work out.” Matty explained, “Do you feel ready for a baby? Or even want one?”

“For a while I wasn’t keen on it. I think it came from a place of just being scared that I wouldn’t have the chance, you know? That nobody would ever love me enough to want to start a family. In Filipino culture, it’s so common to get married and have children in your early twenties. My mum had me at 22 and I wasn’t even an accident. So when I passed that age and was not anywhere near getting married, I was kind of bitter. Angry that people wouldn’t stop asking me about it. Now I’m just in awe to share my life with someone. To be so eager to expand that adoration. So I wouldn’t be opposed having a little baby. Seems like a worth-while thing to commit to with someone you love. With you,”

Matty brought her in closer, making her cuddle against his side and beneath this arm. He planted a kiss on her temple.

“I also will say this,” restarted Este, “I don’t think I’d want more than one.”

He brushed a wavy stray hair off of her forehead. “Oh—you already know I’d spoil the first one so much that we’d have no money left to have another,” Matty joked.

She giggled, silently picturing what it would be like. How Matty would probably insist on carrying the little boy or girl everywhere and refuse to put the task on her. How if they had long hair, he’d ask Este to teach him how to plait with excitement, even though he wouldn’t be very good at it. How he would get the little one a pair of drumsticks as soon as they’re able to hold some. How him and Este would buy an endless library of story books.

“But—” Este began to clarify, quickly being interrupted by Matty who finished her sentence with her.

“Definitely not right now.” They clarified in unison.

Laughter blanketed their presence, happy that they were on the same page and that their bottom lines were the same. And that they knew to express it at the same time, in the same words. It happened often and honestly began to creep them out.

Este dragged their puppy up her body to embrace her fully and feel her soft fur against her tired cheek. The now even later hour drew Keiko tired and cuddlier; so any position they had her in would result in eventual quiet snores out of her snout. All three of them were where they felt the happiest.

“When the time comes, it’ll be fun. Being a mum to your kid. Really challenging, probably, but fun.” She decided with a grin.

Matty silently agreed, alternating between caressing his girlfriend’s soft skin and scratching Keiko’s fluffy coat. They sat quietly for a couple of minutes.

“Do you want to marry me? In the meantime?” he suddenly posed.

“What?” Shocked, Este sat up straighter. “Matty, is this a proposal?”

“If you want to marry me, then yes.” The casual tone of his voice made her laugh nervously. “Unless you want something more special, with a ring and everything. You can help me pick it out. And I can plan it, or surprise you. Just say the word so I know this is what you want, and I’ll do it. Now or later,”

Matty smiled when he felt her lips on his.

“Of course I want to marry you,” she said, “I’d marry you tomorrow if you wanted to marry me.”

There was a glint of spontaneity and realisation in his eye. Este watched him open his phone and search for the hours of operation for the nearest courthouse.

“Okay, baby, I was just being excited about the idea. Plus I’m going to the doctor’s tomorrow, to figure out this goddamn stomach that won’t rest. ‘M not sure if there’s time for a wedding,” she stopped him with sarcasm, chuckling and pecking him on the jaw.

He crossed his arms dramatically, throwing his phone the the side and sighing like a toddler. His eyes narrowed in playful anger and stared Este down.

“Suit yourself. Didn’t want to marry you anyway,” Matty joked.

She shoved him over as they burst into giggles together, continuing to banter about how big or small they wanted the wedding to be, how ugly Este thought most engagement rings were, and how there was no way Matty could make his way through written vows without crying.

And in bed that night, laying next to the love of her life, Este glanced down at her empty ring finger and childless abdomen. She thought about how she wouldn’t have it any other way—but also would have it a bunch of different ways—trusting the power of the universe to bring her exactly what it wanted to. Because of how certain she was of how great every single outcome would be, with Matty by her side.