#and I bring this random dude with me down to the basement where I know Mac and Charlie are fighting this guy

[mrs-kelly]

Once again I dreamt of Charlie but not that we were together, that we were friends and I wanted him to see how much I love him, but he’s so oblivious ahdjfl

[metalshea]

Examining Death through A Perfect Circle's "Blue" lens

Trigger Warning - this post discusses death, drug abuse, and overdoses, and includes a couple graphic descriptions from my time working at a morgue.  We are all at different places in our life journeys and have each been impacted by our own unique circumstances and experiences.  If these topics could spark difficult emotions for you, please do not feel compelled to read further.  Instead go gently and know that “there will come a day when the memory of those you’ve lost will bring a smile to your face before a tear to your eye”.

-- 

So it’s been a little shy of three years since my last post.  My last rant discussing the spindly and cancerous fingers of the NSBM scene through case examinations of Alcest, Behemoth, and Agalloch was all the way back in January of 2020.  In that time a lot has happened: a global pandemic led to my being laid off from my job in big tech, I started a great new job at a startup that has been nothing short of a trip, and, oh yeah, I HAD A KID. So yeah - career advancement plus guiding a small human on the path towards not being a shit head adult leaves little time for outside interests compared to less demanding jobs and… uhhh… not being a parent, I guess?  So something had to give somewhere.  Sorry Tumblr.  It’s not like I was a super prolific poster or that this blog ever went viral, so it’s probably fine, right?  Sorry to anyone that did read my stuff–the good news is you now have more words on a page to pour over from a now early-middle aged (holy shit when did that happen?) white dude that would have loved to have been a metal journalist.  While we're at it, sorry for that last post I did on A Perfect Circle… kind of, I guess… I mean I’m writing another post about them, right?  Anyway, I got super excited about what I imagined to be the parallels between the song “The Doomed” and Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and kind of maybe went down a rabbit hole that was at the time super cathartic but, rereading it now, was probably a bit convoluted.

But here’s the thing, though, I absolutely LOVE A Perfect Circle.  They're near the top of a short list of artists who siginificantly impacted my development as both a person and musician, along with the likes of Metallica, Jimi Hendrix, Devin Townsend, and Zakk Wylde. When I first came across APC my musical tastes hadn’t yet expanded to the point where I had even heard of Tool, let alone knew who Maynard James Keenan was.  I remember first seeing an ad on either MTV or VH1 (probably both if we’re being honest) for Mer de Noms that had song snippets from “Judith” and I knew I had to get my hands on it.  Maynard’s screaming, biting: “Talk to Jesus Christ as if he knows the reason why” lyric immediately resonated with me: the kid of hyper-religious, conservative Catholic parents.  I had yet to start learning guitar at that point in my life, but the octaves that made up the main guitar melody were like nothing I had ever heard before in any other song.  When I finally scavenged up enough money to buy the CD, the coded letters that were all over the packaging became a new hieroglyphic language that allowed me to write my own hidden notes, and I practiced writing that code near daily.  I would go see APC live a few months later in what would be the first ever concert I would attend without an adult (just me and my closest friend on our own making bad decisions that night).  The ticket stub to that show is actually still taped to the wall of my parent’s basement along with all sorts of other music posters, guitar ads, and other random mementos from my preteen and teenage misadventures.  With Mer de Noms, APC hit that absolute sweet spot of atmosphere, melody, heaviness, avant garde, and mystery to absolutely captivate a young and ostracized adolescent that craved something esoteric to give him a sense of having stumbled upon something special.  Hell, if we really want to get into it–-and why not at this point?–opening up a CD case only to find a picture of the lingerie-clad ass of a smoking hot woman on the inner lining was enough to inspire a bit of a sexual awakening, too… Now that everyone is uncomfortable, I should probably mention that the music on Mer de Noms is freaking great.  That helped a lot.  Probably more than the other stuff. When APC dropped Thirteenth Step in 2003 I was beyond excited but when I actually listened to it, I was actually a bit disappointed.  It felt darker, bleaker.  I still listened to it on near constant repeat for months, but it made me feel uncomfortable, on edge, and put me into a place that made me start to feel the first twinges of what would become a lifelong battle with major depression.  Mer de Noms wasn’t exactly every day listening either–it had its own sense of melancholy and angst–but Thirteenth Step was just darker.  And it makes sense that it would be darker: Thirteenth Step is a concept album about overcoming drug abuse and flips between the first person perspective of both the junky and the junky’s loved ones.  It’s ambitious, but its heavy shit, man.  And in retrospect I’m not sure I had the life experience when it was released to really appreciate what the album was trying to accomplish, and how scary the picture it paints really is at times.

Earlier today I listened to the song “Blue” off Thirteenth Step for the first time in a couple years and it took me on a journey, inspiring a couple of very powerful flashbacks.  When I got out of graduate school I worked for a Medical Examiner’s office.  I actually worked the overnight shift at the morgue–which was an experience!  Part of my job involved performing autopsies, but most nights I was working scene dispatch, performing intake on bodies, cataloging and storing a decedent's belongings, and doing some evidence collection.  Occasionally, I would go out into the field to do recovery which saw me traveling across the state and bearing witness to the rawest forms of human agony, grief, curiosity and depravity first hand. My job as a mortuary and forensic technician lasted about two years before I jumped ship to the private sector, but it doesn’t take long for an environment like that to leave a freaking mark.  My time also coincided with the start of what the CDC calls the Second Wave of Opioid Overdose Deaths in 2010.  Constantly being forced to confront literal death on a daily basis as part of my profession shaped me in ways I think I’m still processing on an unconscious level, and being a “last responder” on the front lines of the then burgeoning Opioid Crisis certainly gave me a new perspective on the world around me.

“Blue” is the fourth song on Thirteenth Step.  At this point in the album’s storyline, the protagonist has acquired drugs to temporarily sate their addiction (“The Package”), realized their need for help (“Weak and Powerless”), and are starting to confront the resulting guilt and shame that nags at them (“The Noose”).  “Blue” reveals the source of that guilt and describes a memory where the protagonist witnessed a female companion overdosing.  Rather than helping, the protagonist watches with fascination while at the same time mentally tries to distance themselves from what is happening.  The protagonist doesn’t intervene and the implication is that the woman dies.  The lyrics are haunting--“I just didn’t want to know… She’s turning blue”--and the dense and dissonant atmosphere of the song lends itself well to supporting the hazy but all too raw memory.

There were two cases I worked while at the morgue that pull heavily on the threads of my own memories when listening to this song:  Myself and a colleague responded to an overdose in a public housing complex.  The apartment was far from what I’d call a home.  The furniture was spartan at best and was clearly either donated to the renter by well-meaning charities or purchased at thrift stores like Good Will or Salvation Army.  The renter was still in the house and was clearly still high–he sat on a couch in the living area off the small kitchen.  A police officer was talking with him when we arrived. The body of the victim was in the middle of the kitchen area.  Since the room was so intermittently furnished, the corpse might as well have been the centerpiece tying the two spaces together; a macabre coffee table of sorts that would certainly be a conversation piece.  When we searched the body e found heroin and a needle in his pocket.

The dead man’s companion–I hesitate to call him friend, I have no idea what their relationship really was–watched us from the corner of his eye as we worked to catalog everything on the body and hand over evidence to the officer on scene.  He never said a word.  He tried to feign disinterest.  He seemed somehow ashamed and tried to hide it.  “I just didn’t want to know….” Several months later, I was at the morgue performing my nightly duties when a body was dropped off by one of the funeral homes we contracted to do recoveries during off hours.  When I worked the overnight shift, I was alone - literally the only living person in the building--so the funeral homes would help out by picking up decedents from public scenes like car crashes.  Like I said, working that job was an experience, man, and trust me when I say I have lots of stories. On this night the funeral home dropped off an overdose victim.  This one was a woman; mid-twenties.  She had been missing for several weeks.  She was found in a building known to local police as a drug house.  It was clear that she had been dead for maybe 2-4 days and was in early stage decomposition by the point our paths crossed.  Her blood had coagulated, liver mortis was clearly evident, and rigor had released, but she wasn’t yet bloated and the smell was pretty tame.  When she was alive it would have been fair to call her pretty.  Lying there on the gurney there was no way I would ever call her pretty – there was too much pain: an addict that had gone too far, a desperate family putting in a missing persons report that would never again see her alive, parents who lost their daughter.  Whatever attractiveness she had in life was nullified by the symbol of wasted potential, selfishness, and grief laying on the gurney.  Her face was still blue.

Listening to Thirteenth Step resonates very differently to me these days.  It shouldn’t be surprising having had the proximity to addiction and death that I did.  But listening to the album today, especially “Blue”, shook me.  Music has a way of doing that–giving us a medium to contextualize our memories.  Mer de Noms is a positive walk down memory lane for me.  It is the nostalgic Member Berry that encourages me to reminisce about what was one of the most transformative points in my life: when I started playing guitar, dating girls, sneaking out at night, and going to concerts. I listened to that album right as I began laying the groundwork for what would become my adult personality, and it shaped me deeply.  Thirteenth Step encourages a different set of memories, ones that are equally valuable in their own way, I guess, even if they are certainly uncomfortable.  What was originally a somewhat disappointing album release from a band that I deified is now terrifying and existential to me–and I both adore and fear it.

Wrapping up this post I have to say, I’m not really sure why I wrote it.  I’m even less sure about why I’m choosing to put it up on a public forum for literally anyone to read.  I guess I can package this up as an exercise in contrasts, or a story about how music contextualizes our experiences and personal growth, or even how a piece of music can have different meaning to us at different points of our lives. But I think more than anything else this post is cathartic and allows me to give structure to what were two very significant and still raw personal experiences and start to come to terms with them?  Maybe? I guess if I could leave you with any parting thoughts they would be: Music is powerful.  Drugs are bad.  Hug those close to you often. Thank you for reading. Horns up, Shea \m/ 

[likeshipsonthesea]

I don’t know if you take requests for nurseydex fics... but if you do the song “omg did she call him baby” by Beth McCarthy screams a heartbroken Nursey when Dex has a girlfriend

i like really can’t do genuine heartbreak but i CAN do angst that ends happy, so here’s my best shot :)

Nursey’s got a red Solo cup in one hand and a plastic champagne flute in the other and it’s sometime after three but before five and he is definitely not thinking about her or him or them together when he looks up between one sip and another to see the telltale blue hair reflecting the murky spotlights of the basement.

Nursey squints. He could be making things up--his brain is nice like that-- but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things. She’s got very distinctive hair, Dex’s--girlfriend. It’d been rather disappointing, actually, the blue hair. The whole thing had been easier to deal with when he’d been picturing some light-haired brunette going for an economics degree who smiled like a mom at soccer practice. Someone who Nursey could reasonably dislike on grounds of, like, predictability.

But no, Dex had to bring home a blue-haired physics major with a nose ring and good taste in music and the ability to out-argue Shitty while polishing off Bitty’s pie, i.e. perfect. Even Lardo couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t awesome for Nursey’s sake. Even Nursey can’t pretend like Amanda isn’t awesome for his own sake. She’s just so--so--

Nursey squints.

So-- making out with some random girl in a blouse at a frat party.

What the fuck.

Nursey is about two margaritas and three years too deep to be dealing with the emotional ramifications of catching the girlfriend of his best friend (who he’s also kind of sort of possibly maybe totally in love with) macking on some consultant for Goldman Sachs or some shit in the basement of arguably one of the worst frats at Samwell. This one doesn’t even have good music, Nursey’s only here to get drunk without the possibility of Dex calling Nursey Patrol and helping Nursey up the stairs and saying nothing about the poetry Nursey spills or the way his hands linger.

(Fuck does Nursey hate Nursey Patrol, fuck does he hate how much he loves it.)

Nursey downs the rest of the champagne flute--which was probably mostly orange juice at this point anyway-- and hands the red Solo cup to a freshman gearing himself up to talk to a cute boy a few feet away and then Nursey gets the fuck out of dodge. He manages to get a better look at the corporate recruiter Amanda is cheating on Dex with (and really, if you’re going to cheat on Dex, you’re really going to pick a chick in a blouse that probably has opinions on the stock market???) and if he hadn’t been sure before, the distinctive tattoo on Amanda’s shoulder proves that it’s really her.

(“Tattoos? Tattoos? I have tattoos.” “I know you do, Nurse.” “They’re really nice tattoos.” “I know they are, Nurse.”)

Emerging from the basement and then the frat house itself is instantly sobering. The chill from winter hasn’t quite left the air at night and Nursey wraps his arms around himself and doesn’t think about how Dex chirped him about not wearing a coat before he’d left. The frat isn’t far away from the Haus, thank god, but it is slightly farther when he turns left instead of right and then has to a backtrack a bit, but he still gets back in under ten minutes and he can still feel his hands, so overall, a win.

Attempting to get into the Haus quietly is a lost cause, given its one thousand year old floor and the fact that a ladybug could fart in the kitchen and wake up the guys in the attic. Still, Nursey gives it the good college try, which is why he’s creeping ridiculously through the living room when the light turns on suddenly and he screams, much to the amusement of Dex, standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Fuck, dude, what the fuck.”

Dex just smirks in that horribly attractive way of his. “How was the Psi-U basement?”

Nursey thinks of blue hair, washed out in the lights, Amanda’s hand on that girl’s cheek, the way Dex smiles when he’s around her. “Fine,” Nursey says, swaying.

The amusement falters and Nursey wishes he could figure out a way to keep the smile on Dex’s face the way Amanda does. Dex takes a step closer. “Are you alright?”

Nursey shakes his head violently and takes a step back, a step farther away. This is the part where he says yes, yes of course Dexy-darling, I’m right as rain, what about you? This is the part where Dex rolls his eyes and loops his arm around Nursey’s waist, his warm side pressed into Nursey’s. The part where they go upstairs, where Nursey writes his best poetry that he’s too embarrassed to write down when he’s sober, where Dex tells him to sleep well and lingers outside the doorway long enough for Nursey’s breathing to slow and then the floor creaks and Nursey knows he’s gone and wishes he’d held on just a little bit longer--

“Nursey, what’s wrong?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He means to say nothing, he means to say, I’m going to bed, he means to-- “Amanda, she--”

The concern turns to alarm. Why can’t Nursey ever make it better? “Is she alright? Did you see her? Is she okay?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He can’t seem to stop doing that. “She’s fine, she--she--” He swallows, and it’s sticky, cloying, citrusy and sweet on the back of his tongue. “She--there was this girl, she-- Amanda, she--”

Dex won’t stop frowning, concern knitting his eyebrows together with three short wrinkles, and Nursey has wanted to smooth them out with his fingertips every time he sees them since sophomore year, and he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be telling Dex this while he’s drunk, shouldn’t be telling Dex this at all, but he’s Nursey’s friend first and Nursey has to believe he’d tell Dex regardless of the love thing, he must--

“She was kissing some girl. In the Psi-U basement.”

The wrinkles smooth out. The amusement returns. Nursey--he can’t make sense of it over the ringing in his ears. Why is Dex smiling? Did--did Nursey do that?

“Did she look like a lawyer?” he asks, and at Nursey’s confusion clarifies, “The girl Amanda was kissing. Did she look like a lawyer?” Nursey nods dumbly. Dex’s smile only grows. Nursey is so, so confused and also more in love than he’s ever been. “Finally. I just won fifty bucks.”

What the fuck. “What the fuck.”

Dex laughs--laughs. “The girl’s name is Tammy. She graduated last year and moved to Boston. Amanda’s been in love with her forever, and I bet her that she’d get with Tammy before I--” Flush appears high on Dex’s cheeks, the soft pink one that means embarrassment and Nursey imagines would taste like cherry pie against his lips.

Nursey is--still quite a bit drunk. He needs--clarification. “You--you bet your girlfriend that she would get with her friend at a frat party?”

Dex’s nose scrunches up in Nursey’s favorite way--the same way it does when he’s trying to write humanities essays, the reason Nursey always says yes when Dex asks for help. “Girlfriend? Did you think Amanda was my girlfriend?”

Nursey remembers the start, hearing about Amanda every other day, then every day, then it was, sorry I can’t come, I’m meeting Amanda at-- and then one day at Annie’s, a girl with blue hair and a sharp grin yelled Babe! from across the room and planted a kiss on Dex’s cheek, her hand lingering on his shoulder, sipping from his coffee cup, getting him to smile like that--

“Well, yeah.” Nursey’s head is spinning and, for the first time tonight, not from the gin. “Is she--is she not?”

“Oh God, no, she’s so fucking gay, dude.” Laughter twinkles in Dex’s eyes. Nursey is drunker than he’s been since freshmen year of high school when Shitty snuck in some of his dad’s hard liquor and the janitors found them on the roof singing Disney songs at the moon. Dex’s girlfriend is gay. Dex’s girlfriend isn’t his girlfriend. Dex is--is smiling at him like he smiles at his girlfriend who isn’t his girlfriend.

“Oh,” Nursey says, dazed, “chill.”

“Oh wow,” Dex grins, leaning into the doorframe, “I can’t believe you thought--and you thought telling me my girlfriend was cheating on me at 3am while shit-drunk was a good idea?”

Nursey says, “Hey, honesty is important, and I’m not--” He stops. He remembers something. He squints. “Wait. If you bet 50 bucks on Amanda getting with Tammy, who did Amanda bet you would get with?”

The cherry pie blush is back. Nursey takes an absent-minded step forward. The room feels so much lighter now that Dex’s girlfriend isn’t cheating on him. The distance between them feels so much sillier now that Dex doesn’t have a girlfriend.

“Ah, well.” Dex rubs at the back of his neck, all country bumpkin sheepish to ask his sweetheart to the dance, and--and--

“I’m the sweetheart,” Nursey realizes with the kind of crystal clarity only afforded by the most copious amounts of alcohol.

Dex’s eyebrows furrow, those sweet little wrinkles appearing between them, and Nursey takes two long strides forward and presses his thumb into them. Dex goes cross-eyed trying to watch, but moves his eyes to meet Nursey’s after a moment.

Nursey grins, likely a bit sloppy from the gin, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “I’m the sweetheart,” he repeats, beaming.

Dex tries to repress the smile at his lips. “You’re not a sweetheart.”

“Yes I am,” Nursey sings, listing forwards. “You like me.”

“You’re an asshole.” Dex’s smile grows. Nursey watches its progress and sways.

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he says, tracking the pink lips as they spread, revealing teeth and--and tongue and--

“I hate that you can still say mutually exclusive when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. See, I’ll prove it.”

“How do you plan on--”

If Dex’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied, he might say that the taste on Nursey’s tongue is a good indication that he is in fact fairly tipsy, but as it is--well. He’s got other things to do.

(Amanda asserts that they tied since it happened on the same night and only pays $25. Tammy throws in five more and a condom and they call it even. Nursey kisses away Dex’s protest and pockets the condom, much to Amanda’s amusement. Turns out, she’s even cooler when she isn’t dating the love of Nursey’s life.)

[pipes-loves-writing]

(so i wasn’t really sure how to upload this anywhere so I kinda just copied and pasted it so if it looks weird I’m sorry) so this is my first fanfiction I’ve ever written/ shown to anyone/ finished so if there’s anything I could do to make it better, let me know!! Also there’s a little part of this fic that’s inspired by a post @starklysteve made and a comment (I think.. i don’t remember) that @redmeanslove made. They’re very small details but they kinda inspired some parts of this fic.

Okay I think that’s all I have to say!

Enjoy! :)🤍

“Let’s write a song.”

“What?”

Carlos had never been good at talking about his feelings. Like, at all. Ever.

Not to Seb, and not even to his family. But especially not to Seb. Speaking of Seb, it had currently been 5 days, 4 hours, 21 minutes, and 7 seconds since they had a true conversation last. 8 seconds. 9 seconds. But, it’s not like anyone’s counting.

Or anything.

He had been so stressed out with everything regarding the menkies, and the show, and not even to start with all the drama that didn’t happen on stage. But now he was in Big Red’s basement, with Ricky, writing a song.

What a night.

Carlos fiddled with his hands. “I’m sorry. I guess I've never really written a song before. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Well,” Ricky paused and cleared his throat, “Let’s just figure it out as we go along. Tell me where it started to go a little south.”

Carlos sighed. He hated talking about him and Seb fighting. It physically hurt to even think about it. But, he started to speak.

“It all sort of started a little bit after Christmas. I got his cashmere and he’s allergic. But he didn’t bring it up until I asked him about it.”

Ricky slightly tilted his head. “And that's all? Those are all the bad parts?”

Carlos stood up and walked towards the other side of the room. Then he thought for a moment.

Then he started to speak.

“That’s the thing Ricky. There are no bad parts of him. There’s only him. Him and his beautiful piano playing. Him and his way to completely make me melt with every word he says. Him and his pretty blue eyes. The way he understands my craziness. The way he makes me feel so lucky. And how do I repay him? I go and post a million pictures with a bunch of random guys I barely even know. And who barely know me. I never chose them. I chose Seb. And he chose me. Gosh, I’m so stupid. Ricky, he’s practically the perfect guy. He is the perfect guy. And I haven't even told him that. I love him and now I went and lost him.”

Ricky was silent for the count of seven.

“Wow.”

“I know. I’ve never even said that last part to myself before.”

Ricky said, “hmm.” And scribbled down something in his notebook.

………………………

“I can’t believe we wrote a whole song in half an hour.” Carlos was astonished. How had Miss Jenn never asked Ricky to write for the show?

“Woah woah woah, slow down Carlos. We still have to write the bridge and the last chorus.”

“But still! I mean, you’re a really good writer! Why haven’t you showed anyone else your music?”

Ricky sighed and paused for a second. “Well, I did write something for Nini and I ended up showing a little bit of it to Big Red. And the song I wrote about letting her go? I showed that to my mom. But no one other than them. I don’t know. It’s like what you said earlier. I get kinda weird talking about my emotions. You know?”

“Yeah I guess I get it.” Carlos thought for a moment. “Have you ever tried writing something that wasn’t about Nini? Or not about girls in general?”

Ricky shrugged and went back to his notebook. Carlos took a hint and changed the subject.

“Okay, we don’t have that much left to write. Let’s get back to it.”

Ricky grabbed a pencil and said, “Alright. Let’s try what we were doing before. You talk about Seb and I write some ideas of lyrics we could use.”

Carlos smiled. He loved talking about loving Seb. He nodded, “Works for me!”

Ricky grinned and asked, “So, about earlier, why haven’t you told him you love him yet?”

Carlos hummed and said, “I’m not sure. I guess I’m just worried he’d freak out and leave me.”

“Why? Dude, I know it probably seems scary, but Seb really really likes you.”

A smile grew on Carlos’s face and then quickly disappeared. “I’m just not sure. I mean, I can’t control the future, and neither can he.”

Ricky thought for a moment and said, “Well, it’s like you said earlier. You chose him and he chose you. And he’ll continue to choose you. Forever. Stuff like that doesn’t just go away cause he’s scared.”

Now it was Carlos’s turn to be surprised. “Wow.”

Ricky laughed, “Well?”

Carlos tilted his head and squinted, “Well?”

“Let’s get back to writing. I think we figured out our bridge.” he paused, “but Carlos? I think Seb really loves you.”

Carlos smiled and looked away.

………………………

“It’s perfect.” Carlos laughed softly, “It’s got everything I want to say and more.”

Ricky grinned and put his guitar down. “So, have you thought of choreographing it? Like, adding movements or anything?”

“Oh, yeah.” The second they had started writing it, ideas raced through his mind. “The only problem is the ending. I’m just not sure what to do with it. I don’t want it to be repetitive or anything.”

“Okay well,” he sighed, “ If all else fails,”

“Yeah?”

Ricky smiled more, “Just keep dancing.”

“I am pretty good at doing that.” Carlos giggled. But he soon stopped and worried, “I’m also kind of worried about the singing. What if I forget the words or something? I mean, we did only write it in an hour.”

“Listen man, if you forget anything, or need encouragement or something like that, just look at me,” he ran his hand through his hair, “I’ll even sing backup if that makes you feel more supported.”

“Thank you, Ricky. I’ll probably look at you a lot.”

“No you won’t. You’ll be too busy being lost in Seb’s eyes.” Ricky joked. Or at least, Carlos thought he was joking. He wasn’t sure yet.

“Well, we better get going. Seb isn’t gonna serenade himself.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. He assumed he would have to get used to Ricky joking about his relationship. He wasn’t annoyed or anything. He actually found it kind of endearing.

Ricky borrowed Big Red’s car since the other boys took Ej’s. Carlos kind of wondered why he didn’t bring his. Did he have one? He would have to ask another time. The two boys raced to the school (Without going over the speeding limit, obviously). They got there within 10 minutes. Carlos was intrigued with all the shortcuts to the school that Ricky knew. Another thing to ask about later.

“You go in the theatre first. I’ll be in the rehearsal room so you can bring Seb in from there. I’ll have the guitar set up and everything. All you have to do is tell me to start playing, and you’ll be great.”

“Sounds good.” Carlos showed him one more nervous glance, and scurried down the hall to the stage.

……………………………..

Carlos did it! He really did it! He didn’t forget any of the words and he danced with Seb. And best of all, he apologized. He had made it all right!

And it was all thanks to Ricky. Without him, he never would have found a way to say he was sorry. And he and Seb would still have been fighting.

Seb and Big Red had left, leaving Ricky and Carlos in the rehearsal room alone.

Carlos ran up to Ricky and hugged him, “Thank you.”

Ricky hugged him back.

“Bro.” Carlos laughed and left the room.

Ricky laughed and put his guitar down. He ran to the stage to join the rest of the theatre kids.

And when he saw Carlos and Seb, standing side by side giggling after not talking for a week, he knew that he had saved his friends and done the right thing.

thank you thank you thank you for reading!! This was very nerve racking to post but please give me any feedback!! Love you all!

-pipes :)🤍

[dreadpoetssociety]

I Told You So

TW: Suicide, abuse, kidnapping, blood, death

Note: Sorry for any spelling or grammatical mistakes, I didn’t go back through it LOL, but I may in the future. Enjoy !!! 

Request: “hi was wondering if i could request a reid x sister fic where the reader gets a boyfriend and spencer doesn’t like him and it turns out the boyfriend is an unsub. i love your work so much!!!”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Sister!Reader

()()()()()()

When Spencer met your boyfriend for the first time, he told you immediately after that he didn’t like him. He began explaining the signs he was noticing, but you didn’t dare to listen. You told him he was a great guy, and that he was just being over protective because he was your brother. You told him to stop profiling everyone you meet, that who you date and who you’re friends with is entirely up to you, and that he should just let you live things out on your own. Of course, you did appreciate his concerns, but you just figured he was a bit overdramatic. I mean, you were all just kids, and of course Spence would have a biased view on you hanging out or dating someone.

Your boyfriend’s name was Noah. You’d been dating for about four months, he had wavy hair, dressed pretty plainly, very smart, and liked classic rock (Except Led Zeppelin, damn did he hate that band.) You’d met after the death of a mutual friend, Elaine Richards, a year ago, and the two of you became close after helping each other through such a hard time. You hung out all the time, called all the time, merged your friend groups together. Everything. And you loved him. Your friends all knew you both liked each other, and eventually, you finally went out on a date.

School had ended, and you had just got to the apartment to actually see Spencer in it, which was a very rare occurrence. 

“Hey Spence! I didn’t know you were off.” you said with a smile.

“I’m not, actually. There’s a case locally.” he said, which turned your smile o a frown.

“Well that’s not good.” you replied, trying to lighten his mood. He seemed stressed and aggravated, as that happened every once in a while when a case was particularly difficult. It always made you feel bad for him., “We should go do something before you have to go back. You know, some good ol’ sibling bonding.” 

“Sorry, Y/N, but not today. Serial killers don’t exactly wait for ‘sibling bonding.”” he sighed, annoyed. You figured at this point you’d just leave him to his thoughts, and decided to go out.

“I’m going out with Noah then. “ you replied, grabbing some of your things together. You didn’t’t notice, but this grabbed Spencer’s attention.

“No, Y/N, you’re staying here. This guy that’s out there is killing people who look like you. You fit his type.” he explained, “And I don’t trust Noah, not for a second.” 

“Jesus, Spencer, can you stop profiling literally everyone? There’s thousands of girls in this city that look like me, what makes you think I’m the one he’s gonna scoop up?” you realized that was a bit insensitive, and that you probably should care about those other girls, “Besides, wouldn’t it be safer to not be alone? You’re going back to the BAU anyway.” 

“Y/N, seriously, this can happen to anyone. You of all people should know that.” he answered. You knew what he was referring to. So a girl almost gets kidnapped once, and suddenly must live her whole life in fear.

“Spencer, that was a while ago.” you said in a small voice, “I don’ want to be afraid of it anymore.”

At that point, Spencer sighed and realized that he most likely shouldn’t have brought up the experience. He of all people should know that this was your way of trying to move on, and bringing up the past would mostly just set you back majorly, but his answer still stayed the same, “I shouldn’t have brought the up, but you’re still not going. I don’t trust Noah, you know that. Especially with a serial killer on the loose, Y/N. You’re staying home.”

This just pissed you off, “You know, you’re not right 100% of the time. You think you know everything about everybody you meet, but you literally do not. Noah is so good to me, and you just bash him and for what? I get you’re worried, but it’s started to get old. I’m not a kid anymore.” 

You walked off into your room without any other words being exchanged, and had decided you would just go anyway once Spencer left. You aren’t generally the rebellious type, but every once in a while you liked to have a little fun here and there. Spencer wasn’t home for long, after finding whatever it was he was looking for, and you just walked out the front door ten minutes after he did, texting Noah along the way. 

Your boyfriend lived nearby, so it didn’t really take him long to come driving up in his black sedan. You loved his car. It was so sleek, had a brown leather interior, a wood dashboard, and just drove beautifully. If he ever put it up for sale, you would buy it. But once you got into the car, you realized something was off. Noah seemed antsy, like something was bothering him.

“Hey, baby, what’s going on?” you asked, concerned. Noah got like this every once in a while, and you figure dit was just anxiety or something along those lines, and all you could ever do was jus be there for him.

“It’s nothing don’t worry about it.” he answered, somewhat blandly. Almost monotone, like he wasn’t happy to be there. But he was, and for what reason you were unaware. 

“Alright.” you said, “Let’s go to the mall, but not the one downtown, the one off the highway.” 

“No.” he snapped. He then recognized your surprised expression, “I mean, sorry, I just have a surprise for you.” this made you smile. Your boyfriend had always been a hopeless romantic, and he would constantly surprise you with nice dinners, cute gifts, and it just made your heart warm. He drove for a while, to an area you’d actually never been o that seemed to be completely secluded. There were empty fields, and eventually an old house that looked to be abandoned. You didn’t pass by much after that, except for one cemetery and a church. Even you had to admit, it was a bit weird, but knowing Noah, you knew to just be patient. He didn’t talk much the whole time, and just sat there smiling as he drove. The windows were closed, and you also noticed the doors were locked, but thought nothing of it.

“Spencer wasn’t even going to let me go out tonight, isn’t that so stupid? Like, he said some wack about some serial killer who’s been killing girls nearby. I looked it up, but they kinda seem to be right outside of town, like the dude’s avoiding it or something. I guess that girl from the Washington High soccer team got killed, too. It’s sort of scary.”

“That’s a shame.” was all he said in response.

Eventually, you pulled up to another house. It was absolutely destroyed, but you trusted him anyway. Stupidly. The two fo you walked in, and walked down to its basement. You knew Noah really dug these abandoned places, and you did, too, but the basement was full of rusted weapons, ropes, a table in the middle with restraints. It hadn’t clicked just yet.

“Noah, I don’t think I’m really fe-“ you turned around and were he was, gun in hand, pointe dat you, “What are you doing?”

“Get in the chair, and don’t scream.” he demanded. His whole personality changed. He was dominant, and his voice was heavier. You complied. He tied you tightly to it.

“So it’s you then?” you asked, weirdly calm. 

“Shut the hell up, Y/N.” and you did. You looked around you as he walked into another room. Looking to your right you noticed a shelf full of random things, mostly girl’s clothes and rings. Until you recognized one of them. A brown sweater with a tear in the shoulder, folded neatly on he bottom. Your heart stopped.

That was Elaine’s. And you had cut the shoulder open by accident after the two of you were messing around.

“Elaine?” you whispered, “You killed Elaine, didn’t you? She didn’t kill herself, you did! This whole time you faked it? You killed her and I mourned her and you pretended to feel with me? You killed her?” It was now that you fully processed what was happening. Your mind was racing, your heart was pounding, and all you could think about was the amount of clothes up on that shelf, and the fact that you were about to die. The items on the shelf far exceeded the numbers on the news. 

“I said shut the hell up, Y/N” he screamed, hitting you across the face with something solid, which knocked you out quickly, but not for long. The dizziness and pain when you woke up two minutes later was almost unbearable, and you had to re-process what was happening to you all over again.

Until your phone rang from the other side of the room. He must’ve taken it while you were out, and the ringtone was specialized to let you know that it was Spencer who was calling. 

“If I don’t answer it he’ll know. He’ll track everything from before I got here.” you said. Noah shot you a look, but promptly brought the phone to you. 

“Say anything, and I’ll make it painful.” he held a gun to you again, and your heart rate went up. He slide the phone open.

“Y/N?” you’d never been happier to hear your brother’s voice, “Where are you? I told you to stay home, and you’re not here.”

“Sorry,” your voice wavered slightly, “I just really missed Elaine Richards. I went to Southwoods Cemetery to visit her.”

Spencer sighed, “Please get back here as soon as possible, Y/N.” and he hung up. You prayed he picked something up.

()()()()()()

Spencer knew as soon as you spoke that something was wrong. Firstly, you’d never referred to your friend by first and last name, and Spencer actually hadn’t really known her last name until now, and secondly, Elaine wasn’t buried at Southwoods Cemetery. She was buried in the complete opposite direction, actually, at Rose Hill. He couldn’t pinpoint why you would say Southwoods, and why you would talk about Elaine, but he completely forgot about his case, and sped back to the BAU. 

The team knew instantly hat something wasn’t right when Spencer came back to the office. He couldn’t pay attention to the case evidence enough to put it together, and wasn’t staying on track.

“Reid, what’s going on?” Hotch asked him.  Spencer shook his head.

“Something’s not right.” he said, “Y/N went out earlier, but something’s not adding up.”

“I’m sure she’s alright, kid, teenagers go out all the time.” Morgan joked.

“No, no, really. I understand how the teenage mind develops, and how their brains develop. I know that rebellion is primarily a process that teens go through almost as a way to reject a “child” identity. I know that. But this wasn’t that. I told her not to go out, but she did anyway.” he rambled.

“Spence, kids do that.” JJ reassured.

“No, it’s not right. When I called to ask where she was, she would’ve lied. She wouldn’t have known I was home. She said she was visiting her friend’s grave, but she used her full name and said the wrong cemetery, her voice wavered, but nervously, not in a way that expresses sadness. If she had snuck out, she wouldn’t tell me she went there, and especially get the cemetery wrong when she’s been going to Rose Hill practically religiously. Southwoods is in an area she barely ever goes to.” he explained. Then his eyes grew a bit, “Garcia, can you trace her call?”

“I can try.” she said, rushing back to her computers, the team close behind. They knew not to question Spence, most of the time he was right. They all sat there for about three minutes before Garcia spoke up again, “That’s weird.”

“What?” Prentiss spoke up.

“Reid, her phone pinged off of like, twelve different towers in the two minutes you called her. I can’t track a location for the last hour.” she turned to him, concerned. The team all looked at each other worriedly. 

“We’ll have to split up, we’ve still go a case and this is off protocol.” Hotch broke the silence, bearer of bad news.

“No, actually, I think it’s the same case.” Spencer sighed. He looked up at them, “She fits the UnSub’s type.”

“You can’t be a part of this then, Spencer.” Hotch replied, which caused him to whip around, “It’s personal now. You’re  victim.”

“There’s no say in this.” Spencer had never defied Hotch’s authority before, but his sister was missing, “What do we have so far?”

“Well, we know he’s a sadist, white male, probably in his 30’s. He’d be social, fit in with a crowd. Probably good with the ladies, which means he sticks out, but not too much.” Prentiss relayed. Spencer thought for a moment. Who would you know that fit that profile at all. This UnSub seemed to make a connection with these girls beforehand. The team thought that maybe the victims were a surrogate to a daughter, or a sister.

“I don’t know how this related to Elaine and Southwoods. Southwoods is an hour and a half away, I had only been gone for about an hour, so she couldn’t have made it there yet.”

“Reid, who is Elaine?” Morgan asked.

“Elaine Richards. She was a friend of Y/N’s who died about a year ago. She committed suicide.”  Spencer explained. They were all silent for a moment.

“Garcia, can you bring up a picture of Elaine?” JJ asked. The analyst nodded and did so quickly, showing a picture of a brown hair, brown eyed, thin girl. It was saddening, really. They’re always too young. But JJ had confirmed her thought, “Spence, what if it wasn’t a suicide?” 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“She fits his victim ideal, the hair, the eyes. Her file says she was smart, she had friends. They interviewed an ex boyfriend, her father, so on.” JJ explained, “What if Y/N stumbled onto something she shouldn’t have? Maybe Elaine was one of his victims staged as a suicide. The profile says he became active a few weeks ago, but what if it’s been a year? Maybe he’s been testing things out until he finally got something he liked.” 

“Garcia, bring up Elaine’s autopsy report. Is there anything about anything that matches up with his current MO?” Spencer asked, “Elaine was found at the basin of a bridge within the water. It was written that she had jumped off.” 

“Uhh,” she hesitated, “I’m not seeing anything. . . Wait. Yes, yes there is. The UnSub usually cuts three lines on their necks, right? Elaine had them, too, but there was loads of glass under her, so it was written off that she’d been cut when she reached the ground.” 

“This means he’s been at it for at least a year, then. The profile is wrong. This changes everything.” Prentiss sighed. Spencer still couldn’t pinpoint who you would’ve trusted enough that fit the rest of the profile, until it hit him. Noah.

“I knew there was something wrong with that boy.” Spencer said aloud, “Y/N’s boyfriend, Noah. He fits every part of the profile. We got the age wrong, he’s a teenager. He knew Elaine, too.”

“Noah’s the name of the ex boyfriend they interviewed.” Garcia stated. “Noah Allen.” 

“That’s him.” Spencer said, “What do we know about him?”

“Well, his parents are divorced, his mother lives somewhere in California while his father- oh geez. His father has a history of abuse towards his second ex-wife, who,” she stopped, “this poor kid. His second ex wife committed suicide after trying to file multiple reports of abuse towards her and Noah about three years ago. His father was finally convicted a year ago and sentenced to life in prison.” 

“That must’ve been the trigger. He blames her for his father being sent away.” Hotch said.

“But why would he be angry? Wouldn’t he be happy to see his abuser in prison?” Garcia asked.

“He’s lived with his father his whole life. Most likely he’d developed some kind of Stockholm Syndrome or was manipulated into thinking that’s how life was. He thinks his father can do no wrong.” Morgan said.

“But what’s this have to do with Southwoods? She wouldn’t have made it that far, and something tells me they were already at their destination.” JJ asked.

“Who owns Southwoods?” Spencer asked.

“Let me see. . . The Burke Family. They also own funeral homes.” Garcia said.

“Do they own any other cemeteries?” 

“Yes, one, Marshall Fields Cemetery. It’s in a more secluded area. It was considered completely full a few months ago.” she replied.

“Garcia, are there any properties around there that Noah’s family would’ve owned? Even a family friend?” Morgan jumped in.

“His uncle owned a house about a mile and a half up the road. It’s the only house in a two mile radius. It was foreclosed a few years ago and hasn’t been bought or even kept up since.” she said, “I’m sending you the address now.” 

“Let’s go.” Hotch demanded. The team ran to the garage and jumped into the SUV’s, but Hotch stopped Spencer beforehand, “You know you could get in trouble for this. This case is too personal.”

‘“I really don’t even care.” Spencer answered, quite informally. Hotchner sighed, and let him go.

()()()()()() 

It’d been a few hours by this point. You were beaten up, bloody, concussed probably. Noah had used a whole slew of different objects to torture you, pipes, knives, anything he could find. You could barely stay awake, but he wouldn’t let you fall asleep.

“I’m not going to let you die, yet.” he said with a twisted smile, “That ruins all the fun.” 

“They’ll come for you.” you replied faintly, blood dripping from your mouth. He yanked your head back by your hair, which caused a deafening wail from the bottom of your throat.

“They won’t find me. If they could, they would’ve by now.” he giggled. He tightened your wrists until you almost couldn’t feel your hands. Your shoulders were sore from being tied behind your back, but that didn’t amount to the pain in the rest of your body. You bleeding out practically everywhere, you could feel the start of every bruise forming, your head spun and pounded, and you were convinced you had a few broken ribs at least. 

“W-why?” you huffed out with tears.

“Why? Why? I’ll tell you why. I spent my whole life looking up to my father, but it’s women like you who ruin men’s lives. And for what? For attention? For power? You’ll never be on the same playing field, but the system is so messed up that it threw my father in prison for something that wasn’t his fault. He didn’t make Brenda kill herself, she did that on her own. And her reasoning? How she cried about him abusing us?” he let out a posh laugh, “That’s just how the world is. She should’ve known her place like I knew mine. And should’ve never spoken for me.” 

“Why me?” your face twisted in pain as you spoke, but if you were going to die, you at east had to know.

“I just told you!” he slapped you, causing you to sob, “It’s stupid women like you, Y/N. You just exist to ruin lives, and I’m going to stop you before you start.” 

But the door upstairs burst open just then, causing him to look. You smiled mischieviously, “They’re here. You better let them get to you before I do.” you threatened. It was an empty threat of course, given your state, but you felt so much rage that you honestly thought you might’ve killed him, too, which scared you.

“Noah Allen, FBI!” you recognized Emily’s voice, and it was like music to your ears. 

Noah had moved towards you and covered your mouth, holding a gun to your head, waiting for them to come down stairs. You watched frantically as you saw JJ and Morgan step carefully down.

“Noah, drop your weapon.” JJ demanded. At this point, Spencer, Hotch, and Prentiss joined them after hearing JJ speak. Spencer’s expression was horrified, and angry. 

“Death is an honor, you know.” Noah taunted as he pulled your head slightly back. 

“Noah, you don’t have to do this. If you cooperate, we can lessen your sentence, and we can negotiate a deal for your father.” Hotch said. Noah’s head turned slightly.

“That’s not how the system works and you know it. You’re lying!” he yelled.

“That’s not how the system works for civilians. I’m the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I can pull some strings, but only if you let her go.” he said. Spencer was surprised, Hotch never really used lying as a coercion, but he understood that all this boy wanted was his father to be free, and that he wasn’t a rational thinker. He’d fall for it.

“Swear? Swear on God?” Noah asked.

“Yes, Noah, I swear on God.” Hotch said. The boy lowered his weapon and came closer, but was startled when Morgan quickly, and not so kindly cuffed him.

“What? What are you doing?” he yelled out.

“Noah Allen, you are under arrest for multiple counts of murder. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer quest-“

“What the hell! You lied! I’ll kill you for ly-“

“Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future.” and with that Morgan walked him out with a few other backup, while the rest of the BAU rushed towards you.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Can you hear me? What hurts?” Spencer asked questions at about a mile a minute, but you ignored them.

“I g-guess,” you painfully said, “I guess this is that part where you say ‘I told you so.’ huh?” 

“Y/N, I don’t care about that.” he said, holding your face trying to check for any signs of concussions, that were definitely there, while Prentiss and JJ worked on getting you untied. One you were, you tried to stand up, stupidly.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hotch said as you almost fell and hit the floor, “take it easy.”

You had your arm wrapped around Spencer while JJ had her hand pressed on your upper back and above your chest to keep you balanced.

“Heh, so humble.” were your last words before blacking out.

“A medic! Somebody get a medic, goddammit!” Spencer yelled, as he and JJ slowly followed you to the door, “Y/N? Stay awake.” 

()()()()()()

You woke up with bright white lines shining in your eyes. Confused you tried to sit up, but painfully failed.

“Y/N? Wait, Y/N, no, no, no, no, no, lay down.” you heard Morgan’s voice and felt him slowly and gently push you back down to the pillow, “How you feeling, kiddo?”

“Like sunshine.” you mumbled sarcastically. You heard Spencer chuckle, “I’m sorry. You were right.”

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re safe now.” he said. His face dropped, “Y/N, I’m honestly impressed by the hints you gave us. It was clever, and you just saved a bunch of lives.”

“They’re going to have to question you soon. They don’t care what condition you’re in.” Morgan stated.

“I don’t even really remember.” you whispered, eyes closing from exhaustion. 

“They’ll do a cognitive interview with you, then. It won’t be fun. But for now, get some rest.” Spencer knew that it didn’t matter what he said anyway, because you were already half way asleep. He was glad that you were falling asleep on your own accord, rather than from being knocked out or drugged up, and smiled at you. He swore then to do better at keeping you safe, and also not to underestimate you, either. How you knew that he would pick up on something as simple as a last name and a cemetery chain was beyond him, but it made him realize that you were actually much smarter than you ever let off. He patted your head gently, before falling asleep in a chair near your bed. 

[tojitiddies]

✰ [GHOST] BUSTING MAKES ME FEEL GOOD

pairing ⋆ connie springer x fem!reader

synopsis ⋆ you don’t know who’s crazier. your ghost hunting boyfriend or you for even dating him.

warnings ⋆ paranormal encounters, slight ghost coercion, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie

ꔵ there was no doubt about it, your boyfriend connie was an oddball. like tin hat wearing, crazy conspiracist, dark reddit forum odd. his friends often asked him how he’d bagged a chick like you in the first place and honestly you were curious too. you’d met him at a halloween party your best friend mikasa had thrown. one wild night and two awkward dates later you both became that sickeningly sweet couple that everyone hated to love.

at this point in your relationship you had grown used to connie’s random 3AM messages about some spooky forum he’d found or him sending random true crime articles he wanted you to read. he and his roomates jean and sasha all ran a somewhat popular youtube channel — they called themselves “the phantom philosophers” — where they covered different cryptid and ghost stories sent to them by viewers. they also went on numerous ghost hunts to try and speak or communicate with ghosts. you were always curious about your boyfriend’s odd way of life and even appeared on one of his streams once — his subscribers couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend. so, when connie asked you if you wanted to come along with him, jean, and sasha for a ghost hunt you jumped at the opportunity.

that’s exactly how you found yourself in front of an abandoned church while your boyfriend and his friends began setting up their equipment. tonight they were looking for the ghost of a pastor who secretly ran his own brothel beneath the church. one of the women had turned on him and murdered him while they were having sex. the story seemed completely made up, but connie assured you it was legit.

you watched as connie started setting up his body camera and clipping it to his jacket. “so...anything i can help with?” you asked, rocking back on the heels of your sneakers. connie looked up at you as if he’d forgotten you were there. “huh? oh, no babe you’re fine. just stand there looking pretty.” he replied sweetly. you forced a smile towards him, letting it falter when he went back to messing with his equipment. you had only agreed to this because you wanted to spend time with him, but this entire trip he’d been so distracted. you were so used to having his attention all the time, it was starting to take you out of the mood.

you decided to go find out what sasha was doing. she had a boyfriend too, niccolo. he was really nice and an amazing cook. earlier you’d asked her why he didn’t come with you all, to which she told you that niccolo was secretly a huge fraidy cat. when you approached her she was sitting in the trunk of jean’s pick up. she seemed to be really focused on...some sort of device? “what’s that?” you queried, sitting next to her. sasha beamed and shoved it into your lap. “this, my friend, is a modernized proton pack like the ghostbusters use! i’ve been engineering this baby for a couple months now and this is gonna be its first field run!” she squeals as she begins to point out all the functions and uses of the device. it looked sort of like a portable cd player.

while sasha babbled on about her “precious baby” jean and connie approached you both, equipment and cameras ready. “here you are ____.” jean presented you with a headlamp and a frequency tuner. “now first rule of ghost hunting, do not be on your own. you’re always gonna want a buddy. i’m assuming connie will fill that role?” he asked, looking between the two of you. you were still annoyed with him but you nodded anyway. you’d bring it up when the two of you were alone. “alright then. sasha you’re with me. and don’t even think about trying to spook me this time, i took self defense lessons and i’ll definitely clock you this time.” he scolded, to which sasha responded by rolling her eyes. “oh please, it was just a joke pony boy.” she taunted. jean shot her a glare. “keep it up.” he warned before turning back to you.

“second rule, do not under any circumstances curse a ghost. not only will that anger the ghost and make it mad at you, it will also get mad at everyone else and we don’t want any part of your beef. so keep it to yourself.” it was your turn to roll your eyes. “jean you don’t need to mansplain ghost hunting to me, i’m not stupid. plus i watch you guys’ channel all the time.” you say, sliding off the truck and situating the headlamp on. “i’m ready to get to some ghostbustin!” sasha hops up and high fives you. connie laughs and wraps his arm around your waist. “ah don’t worry jean, i’ll be with her the whole time.” jean stares blankly between the three of you before shaking his head.

“whatever. connie go ahead and start your body cam. it’s time to head in.” connie chuckles at jean’s annoyance and switches on the camera, a small red light peeps out to signal it’s recording. jean has one on as well, tapping his slightly to test it out. “alright gang, buckle up. i’m trying to meet a horny ghost.” he said with a grin, beginning his march into the church, the three of you following close behind.

ꔵ inside the church it was dusty and reeked of mildew. you pinched your nose as you and the others switched on your headlights. “jesus christ, it fucking stinks.” connie remarks. sasha elbows him in the rib. “dude we’re in a haunted church, you can’t take the lord’s name in vain.” she scolds him before crossing her shoulders in silent prayer. you giggle as connie rolls his eyes at sasha’s ridiculous antics. a strong gust of wind blows through the church, causing the front entrance to slam shut. you shriek, grabbing ahold of connie’s arm while sasha laughs at your frightened behavior. “don’t worry ____, ‘s just the wind.” connie reassures you, rubbing your shoulder.

“alright guys enough fucking around. it’s time to split up and cover more ground.” jean says, taking charge. “sasha, you and i are gonna explore the chapel and the pastor’s office. connie and ____, you both are going down to the abandoned brothel in the basement.” he instructs. connie groans and folds his arms. “seriously? that’s probably where his ghost is hiding.” connie complains. you tense up at that. it was only your first ghost hunt and they were sending you right into the fire. “that’s the point dumbass? sasha and i will be up here gathering frequencies and seeing if we can find any phantom residue. if you two can get in contact with the pastor, we can probably record his frequencies from up here to listen back later.” he explains.

sasha pulls some weird tool from her fanny pack, holding it up. “this is mission is perfect for using my tuning fork! i’ve been wanting to try this for ages.” she squeals, her voice echoing through the church. “damn sasha, lower your voice.” jean mutters, to which she responds with another giggle mumbling out a quiet “sorry”. jean looks back to the two of you. “well we have our assignments, lets get this show on the road my fellow philosophers.” jean salutes you both and opens the doors to the chapel, sasha waves and follows after him before shutting the door behind them. “jerk.” connie mutters under his breath. you squeeze his hand and smile up at him.

“c’mon connie, i wanna see my boyfriend bust some ghosts.” you say, hoping to cheer him up a little. connie nodded, barely acknowledging your attempt before starting to head off towards the doors leading to the basement. “alright babe, stick close. i have no idea what’s down here.” he instructed. you hummed in disinterest and began to follow him in his descent. amazing! astonishing even! you were practically throwing yourself at him, yet your boyfriend was still more interested in some stinky old pastor ghost. as you traveled deeper downstairs, the air around you began to get warmer like a stuffy room. by the time you’d gotten down to the basement there was a humid temperature surrounding you.

“is it to supposed to feel so warm down here?” you asked, taking connie’s hand to be as close as possible to him. connie whipped his head around the basement floor shining his headlamp on all the different doors. “you would think it’d be cold with all this concrete, it’s weird.” he finally answered, switching on his frequency tuner. you followed his movements and did the same. “good weird or bad weird?” you asked again, growing a bit concerned. connie shrugged before making his way towards one of the doors, his frequency tuner picking up. you glared at him, having had enough of his nonchalant attitude.

seduce him.

you blinked as the thought came from seemingly nowhere. you shook your head, deciding to ignore it. you watched connie peak into the room that was making his frequency tuner go off the wire, letting out a gasp. “____! you’ve gotta come see this!” he exclaims, grinning back at you before making his way inside. you follow after him, curious to see what surprised him so much that he actually acknowledged your existence. when you stepped inside you were surprised to find the room...spotless? there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. the decorative rugs and tapestries that hung on the walls created an erotic atmosphere. the large bed looked clean and comfortable as well, an oil lamp sitting on the bedside. “i thought this church was abandoned, who’s doing the upkeep?” you observed, still taken aback by the surprisingly clean and crisp room. connie pressed his hand down on the bed, feeling it out. “no idea. even the mattress and blankets feel fresh.” he marveled.

seduce him and gain his favors!

this time the thought echoed louder through your head, making you feel a bit lightheaded. your knees buckled causing you to drop down to the floor. connie whipped his head around in shock, instantly rushing to see if you were alright. “you okay baby?” he asked, concern lacing his words. you nodded and took his hand to help you stand back up. almost as instantly as you were back on your feet you felt the pressure in your head drop to your chest and then to your arousal. you let out a small whimper at the sudden wave of pleasure that came out of nowhere. connie pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, his touch felt like lightning.

“are you sure you’re okay? maybe we should — “ the door to the bedroom slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t really care. all you could think about was satisfying the sudden hunger that had come over you. connie jiggled the doorknob trying to get the door back open, curses spilling out of his lips. you sauntered up behind him, snaking your arms around his waist, swirling them up to lay your hands on his pecs. “wha — ____?” he turned his head to his shoulder, trying to get a view of you. you giggled and kissed his shoulder. “awh baby, we can stay in here and get comfy.” you whine, pressing yourself against him. connie tensed up in your embrace, caught off guard by your sudden switch in attitude. the oil lamp beside the bed flickered on, casting the room in a warm dim orange glow. connie grabbed your hands and snatched them off his chest. he spun around to face you, cupping your face in his hands.

“____, hey get ahold of yourself!” he tried snapping you out of it, his fingers popping between your eyes. you leaned up and kissed him under his chin. “i want you to get ahold of me.” you murmured, grabbing his wrists to place his hands on your waist. you batted your eyelashes at him with those puppy dog eyes you knew he couldn’t resist. connie gulped, his hand hands instinctively squeezing around your waist. “y-you’re not yourself, this isn’t right.” he muttered under his breath, more so talking to himself.

you snaked your arms up and around his shoulders walking back into the bed, flipping around to push him into the bed. “you made me very upset, ignoring me all night for your dumb ghost hunt.” you said, planting yourself in his lap, running your thumb along his lips. “how are you going to make it up to me?” connie frowns furrowing his brows. you don’t even wait for him to answer before letting your head fall to the side, kissing over the expanse of his neck.

connie shivered, falling prey to your advances. you snatched off both your headlamps in a playful demeanor while your other hand trailed down to the seat of his pants, letting your fingers splay out across his crotch. “____…w-wait a moment.” he breathed, letting out a slight moan when you squeezed your hand around his clothed length. you giggled softly, slithering from his thigh to between his legs. you nudged his crotch with your nose, looking back at up at him. his face was flushed and his eyes were glazed over with lust. that was all the indication you needed to begin to undoing his jeans.

your mind was clouded with thoughts of your boyfriend fucking your mouth and praising you with all the attention you’d yearned for. you pulled down his pants and boxers, licking your lips at his erect cock, leaking with precum. taking your thumb to his tip, you gently began to spread around the sticky substance. your tongue darted out to kitten lick the little mess you made, leaving connie hissing and squirming. “you’re such a tease.” he grunted. you grinned up at him knowingly before tilting your head to kiss along the length of his shaft.

connie desperately bucked his hips slightly as your kisses became wet and suctioning. done teasing him, you eagerly wrapped your lips around him sucking his tip before bobbing your head further. your tongue swirled around his shaft expertly, causing him to groan and buck his hips. you moan as his cock travels further down your throat, the vibrations of your voice stimulating him further.

“fuck baby…keep sucking me in just like that.” he huffs out, trying to keep his moans from pitching. his hands nestle in your hair, bringing your head down further. you relaxed your jaw as he continued to fuck your mouth, saliva collecting and dripping down your chin. connie bucked his hips into your mouth with fervor, you could tell he was close. “your throat feels so fucking good around me, keep swallowing me down just like that.” he praised, letting his head fall back against his shoulders.

he takes another deep thrust before you feel him spill his thick warm release down your throat. his cock twitches on your tongue as you slowly drag his length from your mouth. connie sits breathless on the bed, panting from the climax he’d just had, but you weren’t finished. you rose back up to your feet and stripped off your jeans and panties before crawling on top of him. with your hands slowly lifting your shirt over your head, you ground your wet cunt against the underside of his length.

connie stared up at you, his daze apparent on his face. “my turn.” you whisper, kissing the side of his mouth. you raised your hips slightly positioning his cock at your entrance before sinking down. you whimpered as you felt him filling you up all at once. connie took ahold of your hips, hissing as you clenched around him. “shit…your pussy loves sucking me in.” he groaned, bucking his hips again.

you whine, rocking your hips back against him. “it’s because i wanna feel you, right here.” you move your hand to your lower stomach, where you wanted to feel connie push against. connie smirked, lifting his knees up on and raising you up to hover over him slightly. “i can do that for you baby.” he growled into your ear before rapidly thrusting his cock into you. you grabbed ahold of his shoulders as he bucked into you, trying to keep your balance.

connie kept his word, fucking you balls deep with no mercy. you were so overwhelmed by pleasure you didn’t realize how loud you’d become. the oil lamp flickered as connie swiftly switched positions so you were on your back. he pushed your thighs back exposing your wet cunt that gaped for connie’s cock. he smirked and spit against you clit rising a whine from your throat. he chuckled cruelly before burying his cock back inside of you, his thrusts causing you to lurch up against the bed.

you clawed your hands over his his shoulder blades as he fucked you deep. “you feel so good, don’t stop!” you moan, arching you back as he hits your sweet spot. connie groaned from the way. you squeezed around him before leaning down to kiss you, his tongue swirling around yours. the sinful noises that came from between you both, echoing through the room. connie moved his lips across your jaw, praising you as he kissed and sucked your skin. you dazedly let your head fall to the side.

then you saw him.

a young man dressed in preachers robes, watching you both intently. you cried out clinging to connie — connie assumed it was a moan and continued to fuck into you. the preacher grinned at you and faded from your eyesight. just then connie let out a grunt. “shit baby, i’m gonna cum.” you were too dumbfounded to respond but it didn’t matter. connie had already grabbed your waist, pulling you down on his cock faster. the movement shocked you out of your mindstate, making you forget about the whole “pervy preacher ghost in the corner of the room” thing.

“fuck connie keep going!” you whine, your hand coming to grab your tits to keep them from bouncing out of your bra. connie fucked you like that until your legs became jelly and you creamed all over his cock. just as you were catching your breath connie came inside you, spilling his thick seed all over your walls. connie collapsed into your chest taking deep breaths.

“shit.” he breathed out, his hand squeezing your waist. “you okay baby?” he asked, tilting his head back to look at you. you smiled and nodded, massaging his short silvery hair. connie seemed to have a thought of realization and frowned. “i’m sorry ____. i should’ve done more to make you feel like i wanted you here. i must’ve looked like such an asshole. i was so focused on busting ghosts, i forgot the most important thing i wanted out of this was to introduce my girl to my uh…hobbies.” the sincerity in his eyes had you swooning. you cupped his cheek and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “you’re forgiven.”. you say, before sitting up.

not a good idea.

your head was spinning. you moaned and grabbed your head, massaging it. “____? baby, what’s wrong?” connie asked worriedly, sitting up as well. then just as quick as the dizziness came, it went. you blinked. “i have no idea. maybe you just fucked me too hard, hm?” you teased, poking his shoulder. connie pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. you couldn’t read his expression, tho it looked like a mix between a shock, confusion, and disappointment. in short, nothing good. “what?” you ask.

connie shook his head. “this is gonna sound crazy, but do you think you were possessed?” he blurted out. you bit your lip, remembering the preacher and the strange echoing voice in your head. “ah…maybe? but i wanted that, it was me no one was controlling me. it just felt more like someone was egging me on.” you explained. even coming from your own mouth it sounded delusional. “oh my god connie, did i get possessed?!” you squealed, snapping your legs shut.

connie laughed and leaned forward, pulling you into his embrace. “no it wasn’t possession baby. just a bit of paranormal influence, like in the poltergeist.” this did not reassure you whatsoever, but connie was already sliding off the bed. “c’mon let’s go back upstairs and see what jean and sasha found. don’t tell them what happened okay? jean’ll kill the shit out of me.” he chuckled, kissing the top of your forehead. you did once over of the room again to make sure there was no ghost priest hiding in here before starting to get dressed again.

ꔵ “finally you two are here! you’ve gotta come see this!” sasha exclaimed as she saw the both of you approaching. sasha and jean had hooked up some sort of computer and were huddled around it. “what is it you?” connie questioned, taking your hand and hurrying you towards them. you smiled, relieved that he had meant what he said and was starting to finally include you. “it seems like whatever you guys did down there worked! we recorded these weird frequencies and we think we might have caught the pastors attention.” jean said, clicking around the screen.

you and connie exchanged wide eyed glances. “uh…what did you hear?” you asked, instinctively squeezing connie’s hand. jean and sasha shrugged. “nothing, we couldn’t hear it until it finished recording.” jean grinned up at the two of you. “but you arrived at perfect timing, now we can play it back together.” jean pulled up the sound byte. “jean i don’t think — “ connie started to protest, but jean had already pressed the space bar.

the empty church echoed with the sounds of your lewd moans and connie’s sensual praises. the heat rushed into your cheeks as you looked down in shame. you didn’t wanna see anyone else’s facial expressions. after what seemed like forever sasha’s hand darted out to pause it. safe to assume you were never invited to go ghost hunting with you boyfriend and his friends again. however you and connie did some extensive research afterwards.

connie’s body cam had mysteriously became static when he walked into the bedroom, so there was no footage of the ghost — you were honestly just relieved the two of you didn’t film a sex tape. however, apparently the ghost of the priest wandered the church, waiting to lure couples into the brothel rooms so that he could gain pleasure from seeing his brothel still be put to use. seven other couples who had visited the church also reported a strange occurrence where they ended up having sex in the brothel as well. you wondered how jean had missed that key part of research about the ghost.

“we may not have busted that ghost, but he sure made us bust.” connie cackled, nudging you. you gave him a pointed look. “you make awful jokes.” you told him, nudging him back. though the experience was a bit of a mindfucker, it truly brought you and connie closer together.

author’s note: hello again! this took me a really long time to write and yet it still feels really rushed :( i tried to do what i could in the edits but this probably isn’t my favorite. i would appreciate feedback if anyone has any though and if you did actually like it, thank you! i promise i can do way better though lmao </3

[libraryofloveletters]

Heir To The Throne

Chapter 2: Secrets 

There comes a day where all fathers pass their business down to their children. This was no ordinary business, this was the mafia. You were the sole heir to the throne and you didn’t want it. Your father’s right hands Derek and Aaron are tasked with convincing you otherwise, the last thing you expected to do was fall in love.

Mafia AU

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader, Derek Morgan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cemeteries, mentions of garvez, loss of a sibling and parent, smoking, mentions of death, alcohol and the consumption of, little bit of Matt x reader, mentions of sex and sex references, kissing, swearing, guns and use of, threats, breakups 

Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: a chapter gives you a bit of a better insight on everyone! chapter 3 will be on its way soon!! 

Masterlist /// Chapter 1  /// Chapter 3

----

Fog filled the cemetery as Luke drove through the giant iron gates. He was outside when you had come down and offered to drive you. 

You glanced over at the man who had a permanent scowl on his face. “How’s Penelope?” you ask him, a little curl at the edge of his lips appeared. “Oh dude, you totally like her!” you squealed and hit his arm playfully. 

“Shut up y/n, we’re just friends. She’s fine” he answered you, pulling over by the tree. “Just fine?” you questioned and he nodded. 

“Didn’t sound like she was ‘just fine’ last night” wiggling your eyebrows at him, he gave you a stern look. You raised your hands playfully, “your secret is safe with me grumpy” you smiled and turned towards the window. 

Luke placed his hand on your shoulder, you glanced over at him. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” he said, you reached up and gave his hand a squeeze before shaking your head. 

“I’m alright. I won't be long.” 

“Take your time” 

Stepping out of the car after grabbing the bunches of flowers you had, you walked down the pathway to your mother’s grave. You replaced the old flowers that sit beside her tombstone, which you could only assume had been put there by your father, and brushed off dust from the top. Stepping away, you walked down a bit further and sat on the ground in front of a tombstone. 

James Rossi 

1989 - 2015 

Beloved son, brother and friend.

Setting the bunch of flowers beside the tombstone, you let out a sigh. “So I slapped Derek last night. I know it was wrong but he was talking about you like it wasn't his fault.” your hand ran across his name on the stone. “It’s not my fault though, I tried to control myself but he was being a bitch and don’t even get me started on Emily.” you rolled your eyes, “I threw a bottle at her head but she deserved it so I'm not going to apologize for that.” A wind blew through the cemetery, you brushed away the few leaves that fell by the flowers. “Oh! Luke and Penny are totally hooking up and yes, he’s still as grumpy as he was the last time you..” sighing, cutting your sentence short. “Anyways, she seems to make him happy and I'm happy for him” you glanced over your shoulder, you could see Luke standing outside the car on the phone and smoking. 

“I’ll come around more often J, I'll try and get dad to come too. I love you always” you pressed a kiss to your fingers and then pressed it to the stone before getting up. You brushed off the grass and dirt from your legs and headed back to the car. 

“She's coming back, I’ll talk to you later and I love you more” you could hear Luke say to whoever was on the other end of the call. Smiling at him, “tell pens I said hi, lover boy” Luke shot you a glare before you hopped in the car. 

“Stop eavesdropping” he turned the car around, you looked out the window and replied to him, “not my fault you decided to declare your love to miss Garica as I came back” Luke chuckled at your statement. 

“You’re annoying” 

“Oh you love me Al” 

He shook his head and drove back to the villa. Upon arriving home, he excused himself back to the armoury, or so he said. Luke didn’t realize that you too, had seen Penelope waiting down by the garden for him. Heading inside, your father’s laugh was the first thing you heard. 

He hadn't laughed like that since your mother passed. 

As you walked down the foyer, a woman's voice echoed through the empty hallway. “Dave stop it!” she laughed, you pushed the door to the dining hall open. Dave and a blonde woman sat side by side having lunch. “Oh bella, I didn’t realize you’d be back already” your father stood up from his chair as you walked in. “Yeah, I didn't want to stay too long today, I have things to do. Sorry for interrupting, I didn't realize we had company” 

“I, have company, not you” Dave corrected you, “but since you’re here, y/n, this is Krystall. Krystall, this is my daughter y/n” your father introduced the woman to you. She stuck her hand out and you shook it. “Nice to meet you” she smiled and you gave her a nod. 

“Please continue, I'm just here for a drink and then I'm off” you spoke as you walked towards the bar, filling a glass with some whiskey. You pressed a kiss to your father's cheek and walked out. 

“What the actual fuck was that?” you mumbled, walking down the staircase to the basement. 

The hallway lights had been turned off, you fumbled around and felt the wall until finding the switch. There were boxes and crates stacked on each other and lined up against the wall, a light peaked through a crack in the door at the end of the hall. Pushing it open, Spencer sat at a table and Tara’s back was turned to you. “Hello my darlings” you shouted, making Spencer jump. 

“Fucking hell, I told you stop doing that!” he shouted at you, you walked over and ruffled his hair. 

“Calm down pretty boy, no need to stress yourself out” you walked over to Tara, you slung your arm around her shoulder, “hey pretty lady” 

“Hello to you too, what brings you down here to see us?” she asked you, her eyes on the screen in front of her. 

“Other than the fact that my father is entertaining a woman upstairs and I didn’t want to hear nor see that ?” you cringed, “I just missed your beautiful faces” you laughed. 

“So you finally met Krystall ?” Spencer piped up from his table, dividing the cash in front of him, you looked over at your cousin. 

“Finally met her ? How long have you known about her ?” 

“A few weeks ? according to Penelope, she’s been around for a few months because uncle Dave asked her to give Krystall a code for the gate” 

“What?! And you didn't think to tell me?!” you screamed at him. Spencer shouted back at you, “I thought you knew!”  

“Obviously not!” you yelled again, “Spencer some random woman has the gate code to our home and you didn’t think to mention that to me?! She could be here to kill us for all you know!” 

 Spencer rolled his eyes at you, “No need to get your panties in a twist cousin, I'm sure Krystall isn’t here to kill us. She’s a harmless woman, and would it be so bad for your father to start seeing someone ? Maybe he’d finally get off you back about taking over.” 

“Spencer, are you crazy ? This is the worst possible thing, she’s gonna drag him off to some island and leave me here to be in charge. I despise that idea, you know that.” rolling your eyes, your cousin sighed, 

“Just talk to him if you don't like it, you idiot, but shut up now. Not all of us can spend our day shopping with daddy’s money, we have a job to do” he said, turning his attention back to the money, his statement made Tara laugh. 

“Okay fuck you too Spencer, I'll see you two for dinner ? We’re still good for 10 right ?”  

“Sounds good” Tara and Spencer said simultaneously, your brows furrowed, “that was weird but okay. Laters babes” you headed out and ventured back up the stairs and out the door. Emily and JJ stood in the clearing on the grass with maybe 10 or 12 young guys, you could only assume they were the newest recruits to your father’s so called army. Entering at the other side of the building, Matt was in the armoury smoking a blunt. “Is this what I'm paying you for Simmons ?” you walked in, Matt sat up from his seat, he was zoned out but he heard the voice and assumed it was your father, you knew that for sure. 

“No boss, I'm sor- are you kidding?” he saw you standing there with a rather amused look on your face, you bit your lip as you held back a laugh. “Does my father scare you Matt ?” you asked, taking the blunt from him and took a pull. 

“No?” he said, truthfully that sounded more like a question rather than an answer. 

“And the truth ?” you sat down, propping your feet up on the table. 

“Yes” he leaned on the table across from you, you laughed while leaning forward to pass the blunt back to him. “Scaredy cat” you smiled at him, Matt rolled his eyes “you have nothing to worry about, you’re his daughter” 

“Doesn’t mean I’m untouchable” 

“Yeah, it does, actually” 

“Mhm, if I'm untouchable, what happened the other night with you ?” you raised your brows, Matt blushed. “Not what I meant” he said, you stood up and walked towards him. 

“Did I make you blush ?” you slung your arms over his shoulders, your hands coming up to his hair at the nape of his neck, “no of course you don’t, I think it's the other way around” Matt’s hands were on your waist, he lifted you up onto the table. 

“Why are you even in here? Where’s Luke ?” you twirled his hair with your fingers, Matt’s forehead rested against yours, “he’s making out with Penelope in the garden” Matt stated casually.

Pulling away slightly, you looked at him, “what ?” 

“Oh fuck, you didn't know” Matt’s eyes went wide. 

Of course you knew, but Matt didn't know that you knew about Luke and Penelope. 

“I know about them, you can relax” you laughed, “Luke would've killed you if I didn't already know though” your hands cupped Matt’s face. Matt leaned forward, your lips barely touching his. His hands on your lower back, pulling you towards him and closed the gap between the two of you. Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as his lips moved from your lips to your cheek and then to your neck. 

“Luke I need a g- oh” Derek's voice rang through the room. Matt pulled away from you, he looked like a deer in headlights.

You on the other hand, were as Matt said, untouchable. 

Matt buttoned his shirt back up, “um Luke’s out but I can get you what you need” he told Derek who was still standing at the door watching the scene in front of him unfold. Hopping off the counter, you wiped the lipstick off Matt's lips with your thumb and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I'll see you around love” 

--

Derek stood off to the side as Matt gathered the things he needed. “Does Dave know what you're doing with his daughter ?”

“I don't see how that concerns him” Matt’s back was turned to him, his response made Derek roll his eyes. 

“If you want to keep your fucking job, you’ll watch yourself” 

“And what does that mean ?” Matt turned, handing him the gun. Derek rolled his eyes, playing with the trigger of the gun. “It means stay away from her or I'll make sure you do.” spinning on his feet, he walked towards the door.

“What’s your issue with me dude ? y/n doesn’t even like you so why are you acting like this ?” 

Derek stopped in his tracks. his back still facing Matt, “and what do you know about how y/n feels towards me?” 

Matt scoffed, “after what happened to her brother, you think she’ll let you tell her what to do with her life?” 

The mention of James triggered something in Derek. James was one of his friends, his best friend in a way. What happened to James wasn’t his fault and he knew that. Derek had spent the last few years trying to get over that very thing. 

“What did you just say to me ?” Derek turned to face him,

“Her brother, his death was your fault wasn’t it ?” Matt repeated himself.

Derek shoved him back slightly, “watch yourself” he mumbled, he really wasn't in the mood to fight with Matt. 

“Or what ?” Matt challenged him and one thing you should never do, is challenge Derek. He has a habit of making his point no matter what. The muzzle of the gun pressed to the side of Matt’s head, Derek’s hand gripping to the collar of his shirt. 

“Let’s try that again” Derek gave him a smug smile. 

“Woah! Der, stop!” Aaron ran in, pulling Derek away from Matt. The gun was still pointed in Matt’s direction, Aaron looked over at Matt and nodded towards the door, Matt running out the door without looking back. 

“Okay, what the fuck was that about D?” 

Aaron took the gun from him and set it aside. Derek shook his head but Aaron knew him better than that, something was bothering him. “I know you man, you wouldn't pull a gun on him for no reason, what’s up ?” 

“It’s stupid” 

“C’mon” 

“It’s James” Derek muttered, his eyes focused on anything, anything that would keep him from looking at Aaron. 

“How- What ? How is that possible ? He shouldn't even- he couldn’t know about that” Aaron was confused, more than usual to tell you the truth. There was no way Matt could know about James, unless.. 

Aaron at Derek who was now looking at him. “Y/n..” he whispered, Derek nodded. 

“Did he say anything else ?” 

“Just that she didn’t like me” 

“Don’t take it to heart, she doesn't like anyone” Aaron gave his shoulder a pat before walking out. Derek stood in the middle of the armoury by himself. There were so many things he needed to fix, to mend, to make right so he could move on. Luke brows furrowed as he walked in, “can I help you ?” his voice startled Derek, “no, I'm good. Just came for this” picking up the gun and tucking it into the waistband on his pants.

--

The drive over was quiet, Derek stopped at the front by the gates and walked the rest of the way. It wasn’t cold but it wasn't warm either and the trees blocked the sun out. This place always gave him the creeps and you’d think a big, strong guy wouldn't get scared that easily but he couldn’t help it.

For the second time today, James had gotten a visitor. 

Derek stood in front of the tombstone. He wasn’t quite sure why he was there, maybe it was the mention of James’s death being his fault or just because his guilty conscience was getting to him. 

“I don’t know why I'm here, honestly. I haven’t been back here since your funeral man, I just- I couldn't.” Derek sighed. 

“It’s not my fault right ? you told me to go, I begged you to let me stay with you and you didn't let me.” he ran his hand over his face, “Your sister blames me. She thinks it’s my fault and she told her stupid little boy toy that.” 

The flowers caught his eye, red roses. 

“Your sister came to see you today didn't she? wait,” Derek chuckled “I'm asking you like you can answer me” he shook his head. 

“Do you know I’ve been getting her roses for her birthday for the past 5 years ? Red roses just like you used to. She doesn't know it’s from me though, she thinks they’re from your father” Derek sighed. 

“I don’t know why, I just- you know what ? I do know. I like her J, I do, like a lot.” he laughed, “holy fuck, I've never said that. I didn’t- wow” Derek paced back and forth for a few moments, he debated if he should tell her or not. She already hates him, what difference does it make ?

--

The heels clicked on the marble tiles as you walked down the staircase. You were just about to head out for dinner with Spencer and Tara when Matt walked past you. 

“Hey! I'm leaving, why are you going upstairs ?” you stopped, turning back and looking up at him. His back was to you, you could hear him sigh. 

“Matt, what’s wrong?” you walk up a few steps towards him, you reach for his hand but he pulls away. 

“y/n.. we can’t do this anymore” 

“What ? What are you talking about?” 

“This,” he refers to you and him, “we can’t keep doing this. You’re going to lead this shit one day and you can’t spend all your time with me, there has to be something more for you.” 

“Where’s this coming from ? What’s going on?” 

Matt didn’t say anything else, instead he met you in the middle of the staircase. His hands cupped your face, “I'm sorry” he whispered before giving you one last kiss. Your forehead rested against his, your hand on his. He stepped back, your hand still on his, he pulled away until your fingers were barely touching, he finally stepped away, leaving you there by yourself. 

There were so many questions. 

Why ? What had happened ? Did your father say something to him ? What was the reason ? Did Derek tell him something ? 

“Bitch, let’s go. We’re running late, Luke and Penelope are already on their way there” Spencer shouted for you from the bottom of the staircase. Your eyes fixed on the top of the stairs, you sighed and shook the feeling, turning towards Spencer with a smile on your face.

“Where’s Matt ? I thought he was coming with us ?” Tara asked as she walked over to the two of you. You shook your head, “he’s not feeling well” you lied, they both knew something was going on between the two of you but you weren't in the mood for it tonight. 

You just wanted one last night out with your family as a 21 year old. 

---

Ahh chapter 2 is done! how do we feeling ? I have something exciting in store for chapter 3! 

Taglist: @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @tclaerh @luke-alvez @iconicc @lieberhers @pumpkin-reads @katexrichardson @sluttytears @thelukealvez @scandinavian-punk @laurenxreynolds @morcias​ @shotarosleftpinky​ @mrs-dr-reid​ @hqtchner​ @averyhotchner​ @ssahoodrathotchner​ @willlemonheadsupremacy​ @ssa-autumn-hotchner​ @potter-reid​ @sunshinepower17​ @emilysbau

[nosebleedclub]

The Dark Suburb

((Posting again because the original post on June 11th, 2017 6:09pm is no longer available due to me deleting and re-making this blog.))

This is a compilation post of Nosebleed Club prompts from 2015-16 revolving around the concept of “the dark suburb.” 

Family Melodrama

something is wearing your mother

oh god his intestines strung up on the christmas tree

your dog’s body all over the house

banging on cellar doors

a creaking sound in your dead sister’s bedroom

warriors with spears and shields painted on the dining room ceiling of a violent family’s mansion

a woman in an expensive coat and an expensive car headed to her nephew’s funeral

coming home to a completely alien mother

getting a doberman on christmas morning that won’t let you leave the house

the reason your parents fled the city to live in the suburbs

summers in palermo where your father was looking for something

mother’s breakdown in the supermarket

the supernatural car you and your twin got for your 16th birthday

parents strangely and deeply interested in the boyfriend you brought home

a mom urging her son to quit basketball; she senses something is not right

all the holes - dozens of them - your mother dug in your backyard

grandparents hiding the reason your parents are away during your winter holiday break

your best friend doesn’t want to go to your house anymore

grandpa’s ghost followed us into the new house

dad hates her bc she killed her twin in the womb and then her mother

Do I Love You?

your boyfriend’s basketball shorts, his boy-aroma, his ghost between your legs when you watch the video of his last game

girls kissing in a gas station convenience store and a third recording them on snapchat

the boy you like drawing flowers on your ap biology practice test when you switch tests with him to grade

walking across a supermarket parking lot by yourself thinking of a boy you love

red mouth

girlfriend scrubbing the blood off her arms in the bathtub

in a tiny white house in florida, sitting on a beer-can-covered counter, legs spread apart, a boy between them

in a drug-induced haze i left home for his semi truck

he never fucked me without his ski mask on

a girl and a girl and claw marks on the door“don’t ever take me back”

The Occult

the incantation that annihilated a whole suburb

a body that drags other bodies into an oven

the witches gathering in the red lake

inhuman sacrifice

dogs gathered at the edge of town refusing to cross the boundary to the outside

a 10 year old girl with memories of a serial killing spree that occurred when her parents were children

white shirts hanging on branches all over the woods

the town of three-eyed children

arrows raining down on a soccer field

feeding time

mysterious scratch marks on your back

a fairy ring in the field where your sister disappeared

Crimes

just throw it in the back

snap!

we found the body but not the head

clearing in the forest where police found a blessed severed head

jar of baby teeth as evidence

children dressed as angels at the crime scene

seeing a face you thought you buried ten years ago at the supermarket

half a fraternity frozen under a lake

fbi agents rolling into a tiny town in appalachia

a severed arm among the hydrangeas

young men howling on the bridge one year after the murder

police cars prowling through your neighborhood, one after another - watching this from your bedroom window

Teen Dream

getting whipped by a towel in the locker room

best friend making the varsity tennis team

taking a shot of vodka in the bathroom after second period

boy gets a boner during gym class

“i’ll be like helicase i’ll unzip them genes (jeans)”

drunkenly reciting the quadratic equation

fear-mongering homecoming queen

track star died in a car accident

dead bodies photography club

“sorry i fucked up here’s some ice cream” “i’m lactose intolerant you douche”

article about demonic possession in the school newspaper

last pool party before summer ends & her hand on your thigh in your dad’s sports car

the first day back from summer vacation & someone in your friend group brings the whole #squad starbucks

a bonfire, lana del rey & drake blasting, the moon

weekend road trips to the ocean

walking around on the track alone, contemplating some philosophical concept you read about on tumblr the night before

coming out to someone completely random - a junior varsity basketball player

the last homecoming dance

lying on the track at your high school after sunset

getting picked up really early in the morning to go on a spontaneous weekend road trip

the sunday after the homecoming dance where you’re kinda tired kinda still energetic from the night before

inside a fast food restaurant drinking milkshakes eating fries until it closes

chill basement party where there’s white balloons gold confetti / glitter two girls who love each other kissing

sitting in the backseat your parents occupying the front of the car you look out the window you see the rural countryside crawl by

pool pizza party at night simple pleasures like that

on the bleachers during a powderpuff football game

sweating so much you might as well have been swimming it would be embarrassing but all the other boys are sweaty too

lost in the suburbs at like 5am and the world is still pale blue

lost in the city at 5pm the sun sinks its head behind skyscrapers

fights on the lawn of an all boys private school

applying makeup the morning after a breakup

huge friend group made up of oracles + boys’ swim team + legendary heroes + valedictorian

aesthetic blogging on a sunday afternoon just chillin in your bedroom

feeling like you could be something big if you work hard enough at it

getting psychoanalyzed by your teachers and parents and extended family

school bathroom pale blue tiles

a dream with damien hirst-esque elements

sleepover at your friend’s villa and you’re the only one awake

looking out at a black sea from your dead cousin’s bedroom window, seeing a light in the distance

funeral mass

chill that runs down your friends’ spines when you enter the classroom the morning after they tried to kill you

the sickness that spreads through the high school

sometimes i was a body in a dump sometimes i was a saint

he said he’d snapchat my burning body to all his friends

my body was evidence she was trying to get rid of

poison disguised as an eighteen year old

a world war between us

$$$

first: “super rich kids” by frank ocean

fast cars flecked with blood

girls who know you won’t be prosecuted if you’re young and rich and pretty enough

snapchat of a boy with red eyes and a glass of dom perignon with the text IS MY LIFE FUCKING REAL

snapchat of a girl’s dad’s black amex with the words MONEY CAN’T BUY HAPPINESS BUT IT GETS CLOSE

taking your middle-class friends out to nice restaurants but knowing they’re with you mainly for the money

“dude i know you’re only a year older than me but sometimes i think of you as my sugar daddy”

traveling to punta del este to find yourself but losing yourself instead

identifying heavily with the versace logo

an imperial bedroom and all one feels is the weight of all that empty space

“even my funeral has to be luxurious”

Hometown Visions

three dead owls on the side of the road

trees bare, houses barren

lanterns lit up on the dirt road at night

moths in a forgotten shed

a dusty old attic filled with dead rats and flies

seeing half your face in a splintered mirror. washing machine making dangerous sounds

midwest: watching a tornado funnel form from a window that won’t shut all the way

grass in the yard growing tall

girls carrying stray cats home

a cellar door swinging open and a man you never wanted to see ever again stepping through it, into the light

snake skins and insect carapaces organized on a torn mattress

a lovely place god abandoned

bat-filled house at the end of the street

a girl crawling out of a burning car

birds in jars

Hide & Seek

not being able to find anyone in a dark forest because they actually left you and it was just a cruel prank

person seeking you is something much worse than what you thought they were

being trapped in your hiding space & no one can find you no matter how loud you call for help

hiding in your friend’s house and finding evidence of a vile crime their parents committed

finding half of your friend

[m-y-fandoms]

Kazuichi Souda x abused reader one-shot

Request: Hi! Can I request a Kazuichi x abused!reader hurt/comfort fic with the reader written gender-neutral? Preferably with them friends at the beginning and then a love confession. I don't have any dealbreakers/things I don't want in there. Thanks!

Thanks for the submission! Kazuichi can be such a sweetheart when he wants to be….and the sharp teeth...purrr. Anyway, the reader’s gender is neutral, so anyone can read this one with themselves in mind! - Mod Kokichi

Triggers and Warnings: thoughts of suicide briefly mentioned, implied sexual and physical abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, sexual assault discussed. Major Spoilers for Danganronpa 2.

     Kazuichi Souda had always been a close friend of yours. You grew up in the same middle-class neighborhood, going to the same old boring elementary school, then middle school, and eventually you moved into public high school together. He was the closest thing you had to a brother, and you cared about him more than anyone you could think of. He sat with you on the bus, and as you both grew, you instead walked to and from school together. He was funny, dramatic, flirty, talented, and a compassionate friend. He was the only one in your life interested in your hobby of writing poetry, and while he didn’t really get all the figurative language and metaphors and whatnot, being a man who worked with his hands and not his mind, he supported you and read them all anyway. Kazuichi’s support, boosting your confidence, is what got you to start publishing your poems online regularly, and submitting them to small blogs and huge literary magazines alike. You started to gain a small income for your writing, and it was all because of his prescence and care. He was always hanging out with you in his garage or basement as you typed away on your laptop, and you loved being around him. Problems began as you grew closer, though. Problems for you, at least. Kazuichi, for all his great traits and talents, was not one to take hints, and the more you fell in love with your best friend, the worse your mental health got, knowing in the back of your mind that he’d never feel the same way. Of course, what was going on at home didn’t help the situation.

     It seemed that your luck was going to change, when one normal Tuesday, toward the end of sophomore year, you’d gotten word that Hope’s Peak Academy, the best high-school in the country, had a scout looking around your area, which was relatively close to the academy anyway. Within days, both you and Kazuichi had received letters stating that it would be an honor to have you next semester as the incoming Ultimate Poet and Ultimate Mechanic. Of course, you both lost your minds, talking on the phone all night until you abruptly hung up on him in the middle of your sentence. He never asked why, simply thinking your phone cut out, and that he’d see you tomorrow anyway. You came to school late the next day, around lunch time, new scratches under your eye and a bruise on your wrist. When he asked about it, you told him the reason the phone call ended so suddenly was because you’d tripped down your stairs, and the tumble messed up your phone pretty bad, but that you’d have it fixed by tonight! He nodded, accepting the answer and quickly switching to the excitement of starting at Hope’s Peak Academy.

     “They have dorms there for students to stay in, pretty sick, huh?” He tapped your lunch tray with his fork, encouraging you to eat before the bell rang and lunch was over. “Now I can sneak over to your room whenever!” He said a little too seductively, seeing your flustered look. “T-to hang out of course and knock out some noobs in PvP! I’ll bring all of my consoles, no doubt, and I can get back into teaching you how to take apart a car!” You smiled weakly before replying, looking at the food in front of you instead of into his eyes.

     “Yeah...about that. The dorms are optional, and my parents are forcing me to commute.” 

     “Wha?!?!?” Souda’s mouth hung open in one of his usual over-dramatic displays. “No fair! That’s ass! Why the hell not? I bet you’ll be the only student not living on campus!” Way to make them feel better, Souda.

     “Kazuichi, they just don’t feel comfortable with me living away from home before I’m completely self-sufficient and of legal age. Just…let it go, please,” your voice faded out toward the end, and seeing how serious you were, he let it go, content to pout about it later to himself or try to convince you to try and change your parents’ minds later in the week.

     “Can I at least pick you up every morning to bring you on your dumb ass commute to school?” Souda grinned widely after presenting his question. You compromised, letting him have this small victory.

     “Sure, Kazu.”

     But, nothing changed, it seemed, and the new semester quickly came, with you attending Hope’s Peak Academy with the love of your life...er best friend, Kazuichi Souda. He was in almost all of your classes, refusing to pay attention and flirting with random people, a new crush to obsess over each week. Same old Kazuichi, chasing after the object of his interests endlessly, but it never bothered you much. You knew they were always quick infatuations, with him coming on too strongly, getting rejected, and ultimately spending his whole day with you regardless, complaining to you about his rejection, or dishing info of his new crush. You visited his dorm room, with all of the same excuses for not wanting to sit on his bed to play video games, not wanting to stay too late, not explaining in detail where these bruises where coming from.

     Kazuichi, again, wasn’t the most observant guy around. You’d known him since you were both six years old, and he still didn’t know why you’d come to school with puffy red bags under your eyes, why you’d cry at lunch in the bathroom, why you wouldn’t let him high five you or touch shoulders with him on the bus, even though the small seat was a tight squeeze. He always took your excuses at face value, and trusted you, his best bud. It usually went something like this:

Elementary School:

     “Y/N...w-why are you crying?”

     “My pet fish died last night. I really loved him, Kazu…” you sniffled, pulling yourself together.

Middle School:

     “Y/N, where did that bruise come from? Man, that’s a really dark one this time!” He would try to grab your arm and take a closer look, and you’d shrink away.

     “P-please don’t touch it! It’s awfully sore! I fell off my bed this morning, it was a pretty rough fall!” You’d chuckle.

Hope’s Peak Academy:

     “Hey, Y/N, let’s hang out at your place after school, yeah? My dorm room is really dirty and I think there’s a random fire drill today. Such a hassle.” He smirked wickedly, thinking himself so clever.

     “Kazuichi, you’ve known me for like ten years…”

     “Yeah…?” he mused.

     “And you know my parents don’t let me have friends over. Why did you think this would work now, today, all of a sudden?” you feigned anger, huffing before smiling at him.

     “Awww come on, just this once?” He crept up behind you to pounce playfully on your shoulders, and you glided to the side quickly, your back hitting the lockers a little too roughly. Your breath quickened, and he looked at you with wide eyes. “Y/N...geez, are you okay? I wasn’t gonna like take you down in a full- on tackle you know? Just shake you a bit!” He chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, his sharp teeth showing in that stupid grin you loved.

     “Y-you just surprised me is all,” you steadied your breathing, hoping to avoid an all out panic attack. Come on, get it together, Y/N, you thought to yourself. Not in front of him, anyone but him. “But, anyway,” you moved back to his side, not close enough to touch, of course, “ you know my parents are really strict and extreme germaphobes. They barely want me living there, making a mess,” you laughed nervously, and Kazuichi remained silent, his mind racing. “Kazu…?”

     “Oh, y-yeah! What? Oh, yeah, I know. Your folks sure are nuts, huh? You’d think they’d be like super psyched that you got into Hope’s Peak and be proud of you or some shit, and let you have more freedom..or at least less-strict rules. Man, they are so unreasonable. It’s crazy...”

     He had no idea…

     He walked you home, telling you he would pick you up around six to hang out with a small group of your friends at the local diner, but since he busted his dad’s car trying to improve it, he’d have to let Nekomaru drive. You nodded, telling him you couldn’t wait, before entering your prison for the afternoon. You immediately ran to your room and locked it, not that it ever helped when your dad had a master key, and when he was drunk, even that didn’t even matter. No need for a key when you can just aggressively bust the door open, breaking the lock. You’d asked Kazuichi if he knew how to fix a lock, him of course offering to come over and fix it, but fearing he’d ask too many questions and get too close to the truth, you quickly shut him up and said you’d Youtube a tutorial. You did, and spent your own money on the tools and materials needed to fix it. Even though it didn’t do much to stop your rampaging father, something about the small comfort of having a locked door gave you the hope that maybe one day...maybe one day, he’d figure it was too much work to bother with, and retreat back into his room.

~

     “Dude, why do they hate me so much?” Kazuichi sighed, leaning on the door of Nekomaru’s car and looking angrily out the window. Even if he wasn’t being overly dramatic on purpose, with Nekomaru’s size, he was left squished and forced to lean on the door anyway.

     “HAHA, man, you’re being ridiculous! You know that’s bullshit. Y/N’s known you longer than any of us, and you know they adore you!” Nekomaru laughed, driving a little faster then he should down the suburban street.

     “Well, they don’t ‘adore’ me they way I do them, ya know? Am I ugly? I’m ugly, aren’t I?”

     “I think you’re objectively attractive!” Nekomaru shouted his support.

     “T-then why the hell don’t they like me like that?! Man, I’ve spent years with Y/N, I compliment them, I love reading their poetry, and I don’t even like poetry! I spend all my free time with them! There’s no one I’d rather be around! They even like watching me work on my dad’s dinky ass car! Who wants to watch that?!”

     “Souda...have you even told Y/N that you like them like that?!” Nekomaru smirked.

     “Well...no.” He sheepishly admitted, then gained his indignant tone back, “Hell no! I can’t do that! I mean, I’ve had crushes before, people I’ve wanted to smash or make out with, o-or take out to dinner, but nothing...nothing like this!”

     “You love ‘em? Y/N, I mean,” Nekomaru asked rather quietly, for once, deadly serious. Kazuichi went silent. The silence hung in the air for a few minutes. “I mean, ten years is a long time to know someone, enough time to fall in love…” he trailed off. Kazuichi puffed out his cheeks, ever stubborn, tracing his finger on the window. A good while passed with the two men in silence on the way to your house.

   “A-anyway, they won’t even let me fuckin’ touch ‘em. Ten years, and you know what I’ve got? Maybe one high five, an accidental bump when chilling at my place. I’ve got shit! Always a reason we can’t hug or arm wrestle and…..And! They never let me go to their place! Like, what is that? They say it’s their parents’ rule but like c’mon, ten years? I know that’s a lie. They just don’t want me there. Don’t trust me, or think I’m a creep or annoying or…” He trailed off, getting a little too upset by his own words.

     “Maybe there’s a reason for that... You put too little faith in them, but, anyway, I think you’re overthinking it, pal. I mean, you never know what someone’s feeling until you ask, and you’ve never asked. You think my players just go out on the field with a sprained ankle without telling me, or me askin’ if there’s a reason they are limping? NO! Communication is key to any type of relationship! You’ve known them longer then me, would it really hurt to ask them out?! Or confess your feelings?!

     But he never did, for fear of a rejection more brutal than he could ever handle. He couldn’t risk making things so awkward that you disappeared from his life, and so, you and Kazuichi Souda, two idiots madly in love, remained friends. Friends that never touched.

~

     But then, you woke up to sun in your eyes, blistering heat and humid air soaking through your long sleeve sweater. You sat up quickly, feeling sand trickle down your turtleneck and run through your fingers.

     “What the hell?” Upon standing, fear quickly set in when you took in the sight of some white-haired guy you didn’t know talking to some brunette with a white shirt that you also didn’t know. They turned to you, hearing you stir from your sleep.

     “Ah, you’re up and about!” The white-haired boy smiled gently, his eyes crinkling closed. “We decided to let everyone wake at their own pace before exploring. You were the last one, so that’s why no one else but us is here. This is Hajime Hinata, and I’m Nagito Komaeda, a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand, approaching you, but you simply looked at it, pulling your arms into your chest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Not one for introductions, huh?” He put his finger to his lip, looking up slightly with a pensive expression, “ or maybe you’re just a bit shaken up? Hey, that’s fine. I can try to get Usami over here to give you the run-down like she did for the rest of us!” He smiled again, the other boy, Hajime, looking as confused and uncomfortable as you were.

    “Rest of us? How many others? Where are we? I w-was just walking into Hope’s Peak for my first day of class and then I...well I guess I must have passed out. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

     “Ah, Y/N, I think I saw your name on the class roster online! Your poetry was wonderful, by the way. I read a lot of it online. It’s so hope-inspiring. Yep, we’re classmates for sure. And about that whole passing out thing, it’s the same for all of us, we don’t really know what happened,” Nagito continued.

     “All of us? Who? Nagito, who do you keep talking about?” You were growing impatient and scared.

     “The rest of our class,” Hajime spoke up, seeing your frustration, crossing his arms over his chest, “Nagito was about to come with me to meet them all. He apparently did already.”

     Then it clicked.

     “The rest of our class? For the new semester at Hope’s Peak right?” Your heart was going a mile a minute, panic setting in, but a seed of hope planting itself and pushing forth your next words. “Nagito, do you remember all of their names? Was one of them Kazuichi Souda? Pink hair, Ultimate Mechanic?” Nagito nodded plainly. “Take me to him, now...please.”

~

     You sat in your cottage at the hotel resort on Jabberwock Island that night, it’s breezy, calming beach aesthetic making you sick to your stomach. It was all a big fucking lie, a mask to cover the scent of death that lingered around the island and carried itself on the wind. That stupid ass bear decorated the place to look like a tropical paradise, complete with complimentary meals and essentials at an all-you-could-want supermarket, but it all was a ploy, a trick. You’d be a fool to trust anything or anyone but Souda in the coming weeks.

     Speaking of Souda, after Monokuma had thoroughly harassed Usami...or Monomi or whatever, announced the killing game, and sent you all to your cottages with nothing but fear and an electronic tablet, Souda had been in and out of your room, checking on you and venting about his own worries. You two talked for hours, then he’d go and shower, then he’d come back, and you’d get food from the restaurant nearby and bring it back to your cottage to hopefully eat safely together behind your locked door. Souda was usually your rock, but it was no use this time around. He was no knight in shining armor, and could only do so much to cheer you both up. He was nearly pissing his pants in fear of your situation, and you couldn’t blame him.

     Neither of you knew what had happened, or how you’d gotten here, though you tried to recall it all night with him until your brains hurt. There was no memory beyond the first day of school, walking into the entrance hall. There were no classes, no commuting to school, no hang-outs in his dorm, and most importantly, no conversation between him and Nekomaru.

     Days passed and you noticed Souda coming to your room less and less, and being more distant when he did show up. You thought maybe it was just this killing game getting to his head, making him more aloof and prone to spacing out, until you finally exited your cottage alone for the first time one afternoon to join the others at the restaurant at Byakuya’s request. Apparently, there was going to be a meeting. Everyone would be there, so for a killing to occur was highly unlikely, with everyone as a witness.

     You crept into the restaurant, skittish and on edge. Your head was on a swivel all the way there until you saw Kazuichi sitting with everyone else, an entranced look on his face. You knew this look all too well, and followed his gaze to none other than the Ultimate Princess herself, Sonia Nevermind. Oh boy, really Kazu...in the middle of a fucking murder vacation??? Really??? You scoffed, always surprised by this boy you’d known for so long, but you shouldn’t have been at this point. Same old Souda…

     You sat by him, expecting a toothy grin and welcome as always, but he just kept...staring at Sonia as your little meeting was about to start. You were all just waiting on a few more people.

     “Kazu.” You whispered, reaching out to poke him but pulling away at the last second. He didn’t move a muscle. “Kazuichi!” You said a built louder, tapping the table in front of him.

     “Oh! Uh, hey Y/N, what’s up? Sorry I didn’t come over for breakfast. I was uh….distracted,” and just like that his gaze went back to Sonia, practically drooling over her. Fuyuhiko, the little yakuza, and Peko Pekoyama, the master swordswoman were the last to enter, and the meeting commenced.

     Byakuya and Hajime were the main voices of reason and the evident leaders of your pack. Byakuya was planning a party, and he wanted you all there to discuss your plans for escape further and get closer to one another so that hopefully an unkillable bond was formed. You’d all be in the same place, and there would be no weapons or objects that could potentially be dangerous. Teruteru would make the food, Nagito would clean up the place beforehand.

     You could hardly focus on the conversation as your emotions were starting to bubble up. Every single time Sonia suggested an addition to the plan or agreed with someone, Kazuichi spoke up too, supporting her with big sparkling goo goo eyes

     What the hell was this? You seethed, stewing in your seat. He always had new crushes, that was normal, but he usually just watched them intently and staked their social media then confessed way too soon to them and got rejected and told you all about them later on in private when you were inevitably together all day afterw- wait...was this why he wasn’t visiting your cottage as much? Is this why he wasn’t talking to you as much as usual? A stupid crush? What was wrong with him. He never acted this way, not this bad. You were starting to worry...

     You looked at him, your eyes on fire as he continued to faun over Princess Nevermind and her fucking perfect flowing blonde hair and fucking perfect voice and-

     “Alright, you’re all dismissed.” Byakuya wrapped up the meeting, and everyone began to disperse. Kazuichi jumped up, rushing over to ask Miss Sonia if she wanted him to walk her home. You were fuming at that point, finding this whole scene unbelievable, and stomped to your cottage alone.

~

     The next night, Byakuya Togami was murdered at his own party, and Teruteru was fried to a crisp in front of your eyes. You broke down in a full-on panic attack after that first trial, in your locked room alone, having showered and gotten into bed immediately after, deciding to never leave this room again. Kazuichi came knocking the next day, asking if you wanted to explore the new island that Monokuma opened up with him and Sonia, but you coldly refused, almost slamming the door in his face.

     Eventually, you were forced out of your room by Monokuma’s mandatory motive meetings, and Kazuichi always stood by Sonia, saying one or two words to you before you left.

     You curled up in your bed again, alone that night.

     How could this happen? Your own thoughts enshrouded you, swirling around like black smoke of despair. Why is he doing this…? Is he- maybe he’s finally in love for real...no, not Kazuichi. He’s supposed to be mine...my best friend. Does ten years mean nothing to him? How could he do this?! She clearly doesn’t even like him back! Your anger and self-pity was turning into blind rage. It took everything you had to not scream at the top of your lungs and start throwing things. As you began to drift off into sleep, you told yourself that if you didn’t start looking on the bright side, you were going to end up dead, maybe by your own hands.

     Maybe this is just a crush after all, just...this killing game has pushed his emotions into over-drive too! Yeah, that’s it! He’s forcing himself to look on his own bright side, and this little crush is his way of staying sane...but why wouldn’t he just come to you to stay sane? Why couldn’t you be his bright side? You were always his confidant, and him yours….stop! Stop it Y/N, happy thoughts. Your dad can’t get you here. He won’t be sneaking in your room at night. You can sleep soundly...unless a classmate busts in to murder you.

     “Fuck!” You cried out, deciding to stay up the entire night writing poetry on the notepad by your bed. “I’ll get out of this. We will get out of this, me and Kazu. Surely no one is gonna kill again after how rough that first trial was…”

     And then Mahiru died, and then you watched Peko die, and Fuyuhiko was taken away by Monokuma’s little ambulance.

     As you exited the trial grounds this time around, you all walked in a small huddle back to the cottages, your spirits shot, despair taking over. Kazuichi was just close enough to you to get a few words in through the awkward silence.

     “H-hey, that one was pretty rough, huh? Worst then the last. I mean, I actually discovered the body this time...it was traumatizing, you know?”

     “I don’t know, why don’t you go tell Sonia about it!” You spat, rather loudly for the timid friend he knew. The rest of the group mostly ignored you, a few uncomfortable glances in your direction.

     “What do you mean? I’m telling you right now, I can talk to her later,” he chuckled apprehensively, hands in the pockets of his jumpsuit.

     “Why not go tell her now? What, did she finally tell you to fuck off, so you’re falling back on your back-up mode of getting attention?!” Arriving at the entrance of the resort, your group stepped through. The all could feel the awkwardness in the air, but none more then Sonia, her name being mentioned more than once.

     “Y/N, w-where is this coming from?” Kazuichi’s eyes widened at your harsh words.

     “I know you’re not fucking serious! It’s Sonia, Sonia, Sonia all day every day but now you wanna talk to me? Oh gee, thanks! After ten fucking years I’m glad you’ve decided I earned this conversation. I’m honored!” The group looked toward you two, keeping their distance, some of them sweating, some chuckling at Souda’s expense

     “Looks like the idiot grease monkey messed up big time,” Hiyoko giggled behind her kimono sleeve with an evil smile before Hajime urged the others to just mind their business and head to their rooms. Surprisingly, they all listened, too sad and tired to argue or grab their popcorn to watch this entertaining display. You two were left alone there, Kazuichi completely frozen with pure terror.

     “Y/N, I-“

     “Fuck you, Kazuichi! We’re being murdered one by one, and you drop me for a fucking infatuation over some Barbie?!” You knew you shouldn’t be blaming Sonia at all or bringing her into this with insults, but you were so infuriated that you’d have to let the guilt sink in later and apologize to her. He tried to approach you, reaching out. “Don’t fucking touch me! Don’t even look at me! From now on, I’m looking out for only myself! You leave me alone, you hear? Sonia can be your one and only! You saw how Fuyuhiko felt about losing Peko, his closest friend? Well...I was hoping that wouldn’t have to be us…” you let him fill in the rest of your sentence in his imagination, as your voice faltered, tears springing up.

     “Y/N, don’t cry...please.”

     “Goodnight Kazuichi,” and you walked swiftly past him, slamming the door to your cottage.

     The next night, Kazuichi and the others visited Fuyuhiko in the hospital on the new island while you stayed in your room, but Souda lingered after everyone left, hoping to get some alone time with the injured yakuza. He told Fuyuhiko of his situation with you from the beginning: the bruises, not letting him come over, shrinking away fron any and all touch, his love for you, his feeling of imminent rejection every time he thought about confessing. To his surprise, Fuyuhiko, having lost the bite in his voice along with Peko, merely listened, then, being more intuitive and aware of obvious signs, told Kazucihi that you were most likely being abused at home, and didn’t want him to know. Kazuichi felt like his soul left his body...what? How could he have missed this?

     Fuyuhiko had seen it a lot growing up, the fellow sons of other yakuza members getting beat on by their aggressive dads, the daughters being touched inappropriately by other members or rival clans, the aftermath, the behaviors. He spoke his piece, his advice, and after a long man-to-man talk...one full of Fuyuhiko’s regrets, of Peko’s dutiful ignorance of her own feelings, and a lifetime of friendship that yearned to be maybe just a bit more, Kazuichi knew what he had to do.

~

     A knock on your door that night startled you from your nap. You ignored it. The knock came again, much louder, more desperate this time.

     “Monokuma didn’t say there was a new motive and I already ate dinner, so leave me alone!” You yelled to whoever it was, assuming it may be Hajime asking for another meeting for yet another faulty escape plan.

     “It’s...it’s me,” his voice cracked. Your face heated up, in anger or sadness, you didn’t know…

     “Go away!”

     “Please. Please, Y/N...just this once. I need to talk to you. I need to.” You stood up, walking to the door and placing your weary head against it to hear him better.

     “I don’t want to talk. You’re making this harder on us both. Let’s just make this a clean break, that way, if one of us dies, it won’t hurt as much.”

     “Are you fucking serious? Won’t hurt as much? Are you crazy?! Losing you would be the worst thing that ever happened to me!” Your eyes widened, tears threatening to fall, “I don’t…” he calmed himself, a bit embarrassed of how much his voice wavered. “I don’t want a clean break and neither do you so open up, or I’ll sit here all night.”

     “You idiot! You can’t! You’re a sitting duck outside alone at night.” Why did you care? You’d chosen to end your friendship.

     “Then...then I guess I’ll just wait to be murdered. I’m not moving. I mean, I’m scared. I don’t wanna die, but-“ the door swung open, Kazuichi suddenly face to face with your sleep deprived eyes. He nodded, walking in and sitting on your bed. You closed the door and locked it, standing against the door in a very defensive stance. “Please, come sit.”

     “No.”

     “Please!” You saw fresh tears sting his eyes now, and you gave in, sitting a few feet apart on your bed and refusing to make eye contact.

     “What do you want?”

“I think you know what I want.” He spoke rather confidently for his current emotional state. Your heart skipped a beat and you sat there silently. He continued. “Why did you never let me come to your house?” What? Why was he bringing this up now?

     “What do you mean? This is what you wanted to talk abo-“

     “Just answer me!”

     “I told you many times, my parents were strict and-“

     “That’s a lie. What were all the bruises from? The random scratches and bandaids popping up randomly?”

     “Kazuichi, don’t-“ you were starting to breath heavy, fearing your blissfully oblivious friend was finally catching on to your dark secrets.

     “Why won’t you let me touch you? Ten years, and I couldn’t hug the person I...my best friend...I couldn’t even touch you! Why is that?!” He was so furious, more at your father for hurting you than you for hiding this from him when he could’ve stepped in and helped. The usual up-and-down tonation, the random cracks and stutters when he was nervous, were nowhere to be found.

     “Kazu, PLEASE-”

     “It’s because your dad was touching you, right?! And you didn’t want anyone to know!” He spat, and you collapsed forward into his arms, sobbing freely into his chest. He froze at the contact at first, completely in shock. You sniveled and drooled into his chest, barely breathing, you were shaking so hard. Slowly, his arms closed in on you, wrapped around tightly, and you let him, as he leaned back until you were laying on his chest face-down, soaking his jumpsuit and undershirt.

     “Y/N…just breathe.” After a few moments he spoke, letting your sobs die down into little whimpers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

     “I was humiliated. I was scared. I didn’t want you to look at me differently, like I was pitiful or tainted.”

     “That’s insane and you know it. I would never judge you for something your fucked up dad forced on you. Was he hit hitting you too or just…”

     “Yes...all the time.”

     “I could’ve gotten you out of there, into a shelter or living with me. My parents aren’t the best but they’d understand-“

     “I didn’t want you to deal with that. I didn’t want you to know any of it.”

     “Deal with that? What, you? Deal with you? Y/N…” he trailed off, scared when that old friend, rejection sat in back of his mind.

     “What, Kazu?” you needed to hear it. Your life depended on it at this point.

     “I...I love you. It’s not ‘dealing’. I want to help you, I want to love you. I’ve wanted to touch you, like this…” Your heart rate, finally having calmed down from your tantrum, started up again.

     “Kazu…”

     “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I should’ve known, but I chose to be oblivious and mess around with our friendship like an idiot.”

     “Stop, Kazuichi. None of what happened to me was your fault. I won’t allow you to think otherwise. Don’t you dare.”

     “I could’ve stopped it, though.”

     “That’s in the past now...and to be honest, it feels...good.”

     “Good?” He was immensely confused by how any of this could be considered good.

     “A relief, I mean...Kazu, no one knew. Nobody knew about it. I wanted to tell you. For so long I’ve wanted to, and to tell you that, I love you too.” He pulled you both into a sitting position, wanting to see your eyes and make sure you were for real. “It feels less painful, now that you know the truth. It still hurts, what my dad did will always leave scars on my heart and body but-” Kazuichi let all of his fears blow away in the wind, leaning down and gently pressing his lips into yours. Tears ran down your face as you closed your eyes and let yourself be absorbed by his love. He pulled away, allowing you to finish your thought:

“- I’m not afraid anymore.”

[goldenraeofsun]

Remember Me, Honeybee

Part I

Two hours into the farmers market, and Dean’s had enough. Even the gorgeous day outside, sunlight streaming down from a cloudless sky, does nothing for him.

Next to him in their produce stall, Sam rearranges their vegetable display with all the intensity of Bobby Fischer facing off against the Soviets. He adjusts an eggplant a few inches to the left, eyes it critically, and moves it back where it was.

Yesterday, Dean got sunburned from too many hours in the sun harvesting. But before he could even think about a shower, a visitor pounded on their door because some neighbor ratted them out to local Fish and Wildlife. So on top of dealing with a peeling forehead and an aching back, Dean had to take care of Ms. Rosen nearly breaking and entering to get at Sam or his watercress - she wasn’t really clear on which was her priority.

Sam, the cowardly sasquatch, bolted the moment her car tires pulled up to their farm.

It took an hour to get Ms. Rosen to leave. First, Dean had to show her Sam’s pet watercress plants at the edge of their property. According to Ms. Rosen, they’re an invasive species, which Sam could’ve mentioned to Dean at some point. Then, Ms. Rosen explained the $150 fine - all the while heavily implying she could dock a few bucks if left alone in a room with Sam.

Dean forked over the money. Sam’s virtue got to live to see another day.

At least Becky gave Dean plenty of blackmail material. If Sam pisses him off one more time, guess who’s getting Sam’s phone number faxed straight to her field office?

Dean was looking forward to sharing the whole story with Cas when they pulled up to the farmer’s market that morning. But his favorite beekeeper, potter, and candlestick maker is notably absent again.

As Hannah steps away from her stall to replenish her display, Dean seizes his chance. “Be right back,” he calls to Sam as he darts out behind their table.

When she catches sight of him, Hannah turns her back to lift a crate of soaps that would’ve left Dean sore for days. Goddamn angel strength.

“I may be a dumb human,” Dean starts, “but even I know that angels don’t get sick.” His voice drips with disdain. “Where’s Cas? The real reason, this time. Not that BS you fed me last week.”

Hannah sighs, her normally refined tawny wings fluttering in barely-concealed agitation. “He’s… indisposed.”

Dean folds his arms over his chest. “Cas has been here, rain or shine, every market for two whole friggin’ years. Is he,” he forces out the words, dread trickling down his spine, “dying or something?”

“No.” Hannah shakes her head. “He’s not mortally ill. He’s just indisposed.”

Dean gawks at her. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You have customers,” Hannah says shortly.

Dean waves off a soccer mom armed with a bushel of kale and a hungry leer. “Sam’s handling the orders.” He points at the line in front of Sam, and the lady walks off in a huff.

“Is that right?” Hannah asks innocently once Dean’s attention darts back to her.

“Cut the crap,” Dean says sharply. “Why hasn’t Cas shown for the past two weeks? The real reason. None of that indisposed bullshit.”

Hannah sighs. “You’re keeping me from my own customers.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “So you’d better talk fast.”

Hannah makes a face like she smelled Sam’s post-Chipotle farts. “Castiel was cursed.”

“What?”

“Keep it down,” Hannah hisses, leaning in. “He - well, it’s a long story. Our cousin, an archangel, cursed him.”

“For fuck’s sake, why?”

Hannah’s lips purse. “Gabriel has been very hard to contact for the details. He apparently thought Castiel was moping too loudly or too frequently. ”

“Moping?” Dean echoes, his brow furrowing. “Cas always seemed fine to me.”

Hannah shrugs. “Ask Gabriel. Now, if you don’t mind,” she lifts her nose into the air, wings straightening, “I have customers.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean retreats to his vegetable stand, his head swimming.

Dean never saw himself as a farmer until his health nut little brother decided to ditch his high-paying (and stressful) lawyer job to play Green Acres, and Dean, naturally, followed since there was no goddamn way Sam knew his way around a tractor. Sam was more likely to mow down his own gigantor foot than move a clod of dirt. Luckily, to Dean, an engine’s an engine.

At the farmers market, Sam’s booth was placed next to Cas’s. On their first day, Cas walked over with a complimentary jar of honey. He was stilted and awkward, sure, but he was also the first one to welcome them into the fold.

Lost in thoughts and worries about Cas, Dean almost gives a customer a twenty dollar bill instead of a one, blanks on when their summer squash will be in season, and accidentally rings up asparagus as broccoli.

“Look,” Sam says after apologizing for Dean’s latest mistake, “why don’t you head back and check on the tomatoes? It’s winding down here.”

Dean dubiously eyes the hubbub of people browsing vegetables.

Sam gives him a light shove towards their truck. “Just go. I know you don’t want to be here, anyway.”

Dean grimaces. “It’s that obvious?”

“To everyone and their grandmother,” Sam says under his breath.

Asparagus Man at the front of the line nods gravely.

“Thanks,” Dean says sourly to both of them.

“Go check on Cas,” Sam says as he gestures for the next customer to step up to the register. “Swing by and pick me up in a few hours.”

* * *

At the foot of the unpaved driveway up to Cas’s house, Dean cuts the engine. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, debating with himself. Cas might not want visitors.

But Dean brought pie.

Homemade, of course. And if it was supposed to celebrate Sam’s birthday tomorrow, what Cas doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Sam likes cake better, anyway, because he’s a freak.

Dean grabs the pie, shoves open the door, and strides up the dirt road to Cas’s house before he can talk himself out of it for good.

This is what you do for sick friends, anyway. Charlie drove all the way up to the city with chicken noodle soup, Settlers of Catan, and prime gossip on Benny’s on-and-off-again thing with Andrea when Dean had the flu a few years ago.

Dean is just being a good friend. It’s not weird.

He knocks on Cas’s cobalt blue door, his heart beating double-time behind his ribs as the seconds wear on with no answer.

Dean dawdles on Cas’s welcome mat. He tries again. Cas’s house isn’t exactly small, with its pottery studio in the basement and wax room in the back. Cas might be in his nest, on the can, or in his garden by the hives. Hell, with this mysterious curse, Cas might not be home at all - but stuck in some angel hospital being poked and prodded by docs. He probably should have squeezed Hannah for more details.

The door opens as Dean contemplates, for the hundredth time, bailing with his tail between his legs.

“Hello?” Cas says, peering curiously at Dean.

“Cas,” Dean says, relieved. From one cursory look, Cas seems normal. His hair’s fucked up, of course. His dark wings are equally unkempt, feathers sticking out every which way. All typical Cas.

Cas blinks. His mouth opens, closes, and opens again. But no sound comes out.

“You’re up,” Dean says stupidly. Of course Cas is up, or he wouldn’t have been able to answer the damn door. Dean shifts his weight to his other foot. “Hannah mentioned you’d, uh, been cursed,” he says awkwardly.

Cas relaxes a fraction. “Ah, yes, I was.”

Dean gives Cas another once-over. “I just found out this morning, so I thought I’d stop by. Bring pie." He holds up the pie as evidence. "See how you are. But you look good.”

Cas squints at him, his head tilting. “Thank you?” he asks like he had a half-dozen responses in his head and chose that one at random.

“No prob.”

Cas’s gaze darts down to the pie in Dean’s hands for the first time. “Would you like to come in?”

Dean grins. “Yeah,” he says, stepping inside. “I’ll take this to the kitchen. I’m starving. Do you wanna eat it now?”

Cas gestures him forward. “This way.”

Dean throws him a funny look but follows him to the kitchen he’s been in about a hundred times before - for Cas’s annual Spring Equinox party, for a handful of dinners with other farmers in the area, for water breaks in between weeding Cas’s bee-friendly garden.

Afternoon sunlight from the beautiful day outside streams through the large windows that overlook the back porch and garden. It illuminates the kitchen table, absolutely covered with what looks like all of Cas’s beekeeping books.

Dean clears enough space for pie and strides over to the drawer for the baking utensils, saying over his shoulder, “I hope you’re hungry.”

When Cas doesn’t answer, Dean hastily turns back around - only to find himself practically nose-to-nose with Cas.

Dean takes an instinctive step backwards, his ass smacking the drawer closed again. “Dude,” he says in a strangled voice. His heart pounds in his chest at the close proximity and intense look in Cas’s eye. “We talked about this. Personal space.”

Cas retreats, his brow furrowing. “My apologies,” he mumbles. “I must have misread the situation.”

“I - yeah - I guess,” Dean stutters as he grabs plates and stacks two forks on top.

Cas falls heavily into a seat at the kitchen table. Silently, he moves enough books around for them to sit and eat.

Dean eyes the haphazard piles as he takes his own seat. “D’you have a problem with one of the hives or something?”

Cas shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says, his brow furrowing. “But it’s hard to tell.”

Dean snorts as he cuts them both slices. “I thought you knew everything about bees.”

Cas shoots him a dour look. “I did,” he says pointedly.

“Did?”

Cas fusses with a pamphlet on colony collapse. “I’m trying to catch up, but there is a lot of information to learn.”

Dean frowns. “Catch up to what?”

“To where I was,” Cas says, head tilting.

Dean sets the pie server down to focus on Cas, since he’s not making any goddamn sense. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Cas looks at him like Dean’s the one who lost his mind. “I don’t remember how to take care of them.” After a beat, he clarifies, “The bees. I’ve spent the better part of two weeks relearning how to maintain the hives, harvest honey, check if there is enough honey to harvest...” he drifts off, looking more than a little lost.

Dean blinks. “That’s the curse?” He grimaces as he forks off a generous corner of pie. “Dick move on Gabriel’s part. That’s your goddamn livelihood.”

Cas tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “He didn’t just make me forget the bees.”

Dean chews at Cas thoughtfully. “What else? Please tell me you forgot that time with the goat and a hooker.”

Cas stares at him. “I don’t remember anything.”

Dean’s next bite of pie freezes halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean anything?” he demands.

“I didn’t think it needed explaining,” Cas says waspishly, as all the pieces finally fall into place for Dean. “I thought Hannah told you about it.” His feathers rustle against the back of his chair.

“Hannah only said you were cursed!” Dean flails, “Not that you have goddamned amnesia. Do you know what pie is? Do you know who I am?”

Cas blinks, a little taken aback by Dean’s reaction. “I retain my general knowledge. I know what pie is,” he says. “I don’t remember eating it, but I know it is meat or fruit wrapped in pastry.”

“Oh my god.”

Cas’s gaze falls to the uneaten pie in front of him. “And, no, I don’t know who you are.”

Dean blinks, all the blood draining from his face. He forces out, “You’re serious.”

“I’d hardly joke with a stranger,” Cas says frankly.

Dean lets his fork drop back to the plate with a clatter.

Cas peers at him curiously. “The curse erased all my personal memories, but I was assuming we were friends, is this right? You know your way around my house, and Hannah wouldn’t have divulged my condition to just anyone.”

“Yeah,” Dean says gruffly, “we’re friends. I - my brother and me, we have a stand next to yours at the farmer’s market.”

“Oh,” Cas says. “Work colleagues, then.”

Dean snorts. “A little more than that.”

Cas bites his lip. “But you told me to respect your personal space. If we were -”

“Woah!” Dean cuts in before Memento can come up with any more bright ideas, “We’re close friends, alright?” he says before Cas can get another word out, “But not… like that.”

Dean doesn’t even know if Cas goes for humans. Most angels don’t. Cas never mentioned any romantic partners, and Dean never pressed. Better to keep that box locked up tight. Cas never shied away from giving his opinion to Dean or anyone else. He’s the most blunt, sincere person Dean knows - angel or human.

If he felt anything for Dean - the barest speck of more-than-friendly feelings, he’d have said something.

“Oh,” Cas says, and, behind him, his wings droop the smallest fraction.

Dean scans the table and pushes Cas’s worn copy of The How-To-Do-It Book of Bee-Keeping by Richard Taylor his way. “Test me.”

“What?”

Dean shovels more pie into his mouth. “As’ me anyfin’,” he mumbles.

Bemused, Cas opens the book to a random page. “How do you use a bee escape?” he reads aloud.

“Do you know what they are?” At Cas’s headshake, Dean holds his fingers about three inches apart, “They’re little plastic doodads with little bee-sized holes in the middle. You slide ‘em in the hive right before you’re about to harvest. Once they’re fitted, you smoke out the bees, one comb at a time. Once they’re out of the way, you can scrape off the honey.”

Cas’s eyes narrow. “Do you also keep bees?”

Dean can’t help his loud laugh. “God no,” he says as he closes his mouth around another bite of pie. “I’m just a farmer. But I’ve helped you out a few times.”

At least twice a month since Dean moved to this corner of semi-rural America, but who’s counting. Honey is only harvested once a year, but Cas can always use an extra set of hands in his garden. Or around the house. Dean’s worked off more than one argument with Sam by kneading clay in Cas’s pottery studio basement.

“So you know all this from me,” Cas says dubiously.

“Sure do,” Dean says, smacking his lips as he debates another slice of Cas’s get-well-soon pie. “You’re a good teacher, and once you get on a roll about the bees, it’s kinda hard to shut you up.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t be,” Dean says as he cuts himself another (smallish) slice. “I look hot in a beekeeper suit, anyway.”

Cas frowns, confused. “Do most humans find baggy coveralls and heavy veils sexually appealing?”

Dean snorts. “That was a joke.”

Dean doesn’t mention that he finds the beekeeper getup hot as hell as long as it’s Cas wearing it.

It’s just - Cas doesn’t usually bother with the veil since he likes to have a full range of vision when caring for his bees. Dean once let a whole comb drop on his foot at the sight of Cas bent over, wholly concentrated on the hive, a barely-there smile hidden in the corners of his mouth. His blue eyes were luminous in the bright sunlight, and every few seconds he would lick his lips, probably to wipe away the beads of sweat gathering on his upper lip.

“Oh,” Cas says, a faint blush touching his cheeks. His gaze drops to his plate, and his wings sag behind him.

Dean mentally kicks himself. Cas might still have all a whole encyclopedia shoved in his brain, but jokes will fly right over his head like so many of Cas’s precious bees. Since Dean started hanging around, he had been getting better with the jokes and references, but Total Recall Cas got that goddamn factory reset, so Dean has to cool it for now.

“Forget it,” he tells Cas. “I’m an asshole.”

Cas squints across the table at him. “You are not.”

“Huh?”

Cas carefully spears off a bit of pie. “You came by to check on me, offer me food,” he slips his fork into his mouth, eyes closing as he savors the tart cherries and buttery pastry, “stay and talk.”

“I, mean, yeah,” Dean says, wrongfooted, “we’re friends. ‘S the least I could do.”

Cas has another bite. “This is really good.”

“Thanks,” Dean says before he crams the rest of his slice into his mouth. He studies Cas as they both eat, an uncomfortable foreboding settling deep in his stomach. Now he sees it, how Cas doesn’t look at him with any familiarity. It’s more like, to Cas, Dean is some fucked up jigsaw puzzle slash zoo animal. Eventually, Dean has to ask, “Are you going to get your memories back?”

Cas shakes his head, his expression hardening. “I’m not sure.”

Dean’s mouth falls open. “Are you serious?” He braces both elbows on the table. “But you were cursed - there’s gotta be a way to break it. That’s how curses work, right?”

Cas exhales a slow sigh. “Gabriel did say there was a way to break it.”

“And you haven’t yet?” Dean demands, almost offended on Cas’s - his Cas’s - behalf. “You’re okay forgetting your whole life?”

Cas’s eyes narrow. “Are you insane?” he hisses, his feathers puffing up like an angry cat. “Of course I am not ‘okay,’” he says, air quotes and all, which Dean hasn’t seen since he told Cas they were lame. (He felt bad about it for a week afterward and gave Cas a free apology pumpkin. First of the season.)

“I am able to navigate the outside world as well as a human toddler,” Cas continues heatedly. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past two weeks?”

Dean huffs an impatient breath. “What have you tried so far?”

Cas grimaces. “Gabriel said it could be broken like all curses could be broken.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I have no clue,” Cas says frankly. “I spent a week in Heaven’s archives and libraries. The most common way to break curses is by consuming a stone taken from the stomach of a goat -”

Dean makes a gagging noise.

“-or bathing in the blood of a virgin at the new moon.”

“Not any less gross,” Dean says emphatically. “Where the hell are you going to get virgin blood? Are they talking about, like, a whole virgin? Or does born again count?”

Cas shakes his head. “The new moon was four days ago.”

Dean frowns. “Did you have to do the blood thing?”

From the look on Cas’s face, Dean isn’t going to make him watch Carrie anytime soon.

“So I went to more obscure magic,” Cas continues. “I tried bathing in a natural source of water. And then I ran a bath and filled it with salt, since salt repels evil.”

“All I’m hearing is lots of bathing so far.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I lit sage in every room and burned three types of wood. I wore an evil eye bracelet. I sprinkled consecrated water blended with honey over the threshold.”

“No dice?”

Cas throws him a baleful look. “I have ants now.”

Dean snorts. “Well that sucks,” he says, since what else can you say when your best friend swaps all his memories for a Bug's Life?

Cas sighs. “From my notes and research, I can’t leave the hives completely unattended, so I’ve spent the past few days trying to figure out how not to kill them,” he says, gesturing to the rest of the kitchen table. “Once I’ve determined if the bees will survive on their own, I can look back into the curse.”

Dean purses his lips. “Have you prayed to Gabriel? Tried to convince him to take it back?”

“Every day since it happened,” Cas says, his face somber.

“Alright,” Dean says, grabbing Cas’s empty plate, “I can’t help with the curse stuff since I save the teen witch adventures for Sabrina. I can help with the bees, though, if you want.” He gets to his feet and dumps the plates in the sink.

Once his back is turned, he frowns as he thinks his words over. Who knows if this Cas actually wants him around? This Cas doesn’t know him from Adam.

To the dishes Dean says, “The next beekeeper is a few towns over. I could give him a call for you, if you’d rather have him. Cain’s mostly retired, so he’d probably have the time to show you the ropes.”

“Is Cain an angel?”

Dean laughs over the splashing water. “No, he’s a crotchety old bastard who would rather live with bees than people. You get along.” He sets the rinsed plates out to dry and faces Cas. “I’m sure you have his number in your phone too, come to think of it.”

Cas meets Dean’s cautious gaze with his usual soul-searing stare. “I wouldn’t mind if you helped me. Maybe I could call Cain if there are any advanced problems we can’t figure out together.”

Dean smiles. “Sounds like a plan.” He jerks his head towards the backyard. “You wanna get suited up?”

“Now?” Cas asks, alarmed.

“No time like the present,” Dean says as he walks out of the kitchen without waiting for Cas to follow. “Come on, we’re wasting daylight.”

* * *

Cas stares at his beekeeper suit, hanging in its usual place on his screened back porch, next to his gardening gloves.

“You okay?” Dean asks. “You’ve got a spare in your shed, so I’ll grab it on the way.”

Cas picks up the suit like it’s about to bite him.

“’S a good thing I’m here,” Dean says as Cas slowly unzips the front. “It’s always a bitch to get your wings covered.”

Cas’s wings slump. “I have a feeling this is going to be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Hey,” Dean says, taking a step forward, “no, it’s your bees. You love them.”

Cas frowns. “But I don’t remember how.”

Dean grins. “Then you’re a lucky son of a bitch who gets to fall in love with something all over again.” He sighs wistfully. “What I wouldn’t give to erase Star Wars from my brain and watch it again for the first time.”

“What is Star Wars?”

“A trilogy of movies from the 70s and 80s,” Dean says, his smile widening.

Cas nods. “I’ll have to rewatch them, then.”

“Damn right,” Dean says. “I gave you the DVDs for my birthday last year, so they should be around here somewhere.”

“For your birthday?” Cas asks, eyebrows rising. “Isn’t gift-giving normally the other way around?”

Dean shrugs. “But I’d been bugging you to watch ‘em with me for years. Trust me, it was an awesome birthday.”

Cas opens his mouth like he’s not sure where to poke holes in Dean’s story first, so Dean reaches for the wing covers. “I think we should do the hard part first.”

“You’re currently the expert,” Cas says as he sets the suit aside.

Dean frowns as he takes in Cas’s black wings, reflecting muted tones of magenta, purple, cobalt, and green. Normally, Cas rocks the sex wing look - a few feathers askew here and there like someone raked their fingers through them - but now his wings look more like Cas stuck his alulas in an electrical socket.

Without thinking, Dean says, “It’s gonna be hard to get them in the wing covers. They’re a little messed up, dude.” As Cas’s face falls, Dean adds quickly, “Nothing a little grooming can’t fix.”

Cas flushes. “I haven’t been able to reach my whole wingspan on my own. Hannah offered-” he breaks off, his gaze skittering around to settle just over Dean’s left shoulder. “But I don’t know her, not really, so I was uncomfortable accepting.”

Dean takes a step back. “I mean, you don’t need to do it. I’ll have to touch a couple feathers to get these on you, if you’re okay with that.”

Cas swallows. “No, you’re right. My wings are a mess.”

Dean’s fingers practically tingle with the urge to reach out and smooth down the closest feathers, but he shoves his free hand deep into his pocket instead.

“Can you help me?” Cas asks.

Dean quietly dies inside.

Cas’s wings flutter in anticipation, and Dean is so, so weak.

“Yeah,” Dean says gruffly as he drops the wing cover and approaches Cas’s back. “You sure, man? I - I’ve never done this before.”

Cas turns his head. “Never?”

Dean clenches his hands into fists. Don’t touch. Not until he says so. Dean can keep his goddamn hands to himself. Cas deserves that much.

“Do you want me to walk you through it?” Cas asks softly. “I know how, since it’s only personal memories about my life that seem to have been affected.”

“Ah,” Dean hesitates, a hundred and one wing kink porn videos flashing through his head like popup ads. “No,” he coughs, “I know the mechanics.”

Cas’s eyes narrow. “Are you sure?”

Dean fidgets in place. “‘S like picking beans, right? Don’t pull on them too hard. They’ll come off if they want to come off. Make sure nothing is sticking out at weird angles.”

Cas makes a face. “Did you just compare my wings to legumes?”

“Maybe?” Dean says defensively. “Look, I know vegetables, and I know what your wings are supposed to look like. What else do you want from me?”

Cas’s mouth opens, but no words come out. With a sigh, he faces forward, presenting his wings for Dean.

Dean inhales a deep breath. Christ, his hands are goddamn shaking. Get a fucking grip, Winchester. He lightly touches the base of Cas’s left wing.

Cas shivers, the feathers rippling.

Dean yanks his hand back.

“Sorry,” Cas says sheepishly. “You took me by surprise. Please continue.”

Gently, Dean grazes the base of the wing again. The feathers rustle like under a moderate breeze, but Cas doesn’t tell him to stop, so Dean keeps going. He feels along the surface of Cas’s wings, most of the feathers slipping, glossy smooth, under his fingertips - until he catches the first snag. Nerves rocketing up to eleven, Dean tugs lightly on the first feather out of place.

Cas sucks in a breath.

It comes loose, and Dean has a fleeting, stupid thought to steal it for himself. But he lets it flutter to the floor.

Dean soldiers on, biting his lip as he tries to keep himself from grabbing handfuls of feathers and burying his face in Cas’s wings. Meticulously, painstakingly, he combs through the mess. As he moves closer to the second joint, Cas’s feathers, which had been subtly shifting the whole time, stiffen.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

Cas nods, stilted. “Please continue,” he says, his voice rough.

Dean frowns. If Cas is uncomfortable and doesn’t want to tell him, Dean’s not going to be the asshole who turns a blind eye to the signs. He withdraws his hands, and Cas’s wings -

They flare out, seeking Dean’s touch.

Without thinking, Dean blurts an astounded, “Dude.”

“Apologies,” Cas says, and, from this angle, Dean has primetime viewing of the back of Cas’ traffic light-red neck. His wings retreat to fold stiff as a board behind Cas’s back.

“Hey, no,” Dean says as he lays a hand along Cas’s wing, petting it gently. “I just wanted to check in with you.” He grins lopsidedly, not that Cas can see him. “Communication is important.”

Cas coughs. “Indeed,” he says, and his voice still sounds off. “Please continue. I,” he breaks off, turning a little in place so Dean can see half of his face, “I was enjoying it.”

“Good,” Dean says with a little too much enthusiasm. “I - uh, me too.”

Cas blinks. “You were?” He frowns. “Grooming is… boring. A chore.”

“Not for humans,” Dean says as he picks up where he left off. “We don’t have big fancy wings to lug around everywhere. They’re-”

“What?” Cas waits, clearly expecting an answer.

Dean sighs. “Cool,” he supplies lamely. “Your wings are cool.”

Dean can’t see Cas’s face with his back turned, but his wings fluff up ever so slightly, so Dean counts it as a win. “I’m glad you think so,” Cas says quietly.

“’Course,” Dean says, easy as pie. He pulls on another feather, and, when it doesn’t come out, tucks it back into its proper place, “I’ve never seen an angel with wings like yours. Malachi’s got dark grey ones, and I thought they were your shade of black, but they’re not. Plus, he’s an asshole.”

Cas chuckles. “I don’t see how him being an asshole has anything to do with his wing color.”

“No, but, if you ever run into him - an angel with dark grey wings - now you know.”

“So you’re only looking out for me.”

“You don’t know this yet,” Dean tells him conspiratorially, “but I’m awesome.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to see that for myself.”

Thank God Cas can’t see Dean’s face. Equally embarrassed and pleased, Dean rambles, “You should also watch out for Metatron - the white-winged dude who runs the thrift shop down the road. He’s been angling to set up shop at the farmers market for fucking ever even though he has a storefront for all his crap. Whoever said white wings meant purity was full of shit because Metatron’s a douche.”

Cas laughs, and Dean nearly slumps over in relief.

He can still make Cas laugh.

“Hannah, she’s okay,” Dean continues as he combs through the rest of Cas’s secondaries and coverts before he gets to the primaries, large and built for flight, and completely within Cas’s reach to groom himself. “But her partner, Duma, hates you for some reason, so I’d steer clear of her.”

Cas’s wings dip a few inches. “It doesn’t sound like I’m on good terms with many angels.”

Dean lightly runs his palm over Cas’s flight feathers - while he’s back here, he might as well. “I guess not,” he admits because Cas is right, “but they’ve all got massive sticks up their asses, so you’re better off.”

“They’re family.”

“They’re dicks,” Dean corrects. “Come on, you’re goddamn cursed with amnesia , and not one is here helping you out? Dick move for dick angels,” he finishes.

“Hannah visited.”

“Like I said, Hannah’s okay,” Dean says as he straightens up.

“At least you’re here,” Cas points out.

“Yeah,” Dean says bitterly as he brushes out bits of fluffy down near the base of Cas other wing, “After two weeks.”

“You said you didn’t know.”

“I should’ve.”

“How?” Cas asks, sounding baffled.

Dean scoffs as he cards his fingers through the shorter feathers near the bone of Cas’s wing, “You didn’t show at the farmers market. You always show.”

“But-”

Dean shakes his head. “I should’ve known something was up.” He yanks a little too hard on a feather, and the brittle shaft breaks between his thumb and pointer finger. Dean lets it fall to the floor in disgust. “But Hannah said you were sick, and I didn’t know if you were the type who wanted company or everyone to stay the hell away. And then I talked to Sammy, and he said angels don’t really get sick like we do.” He exhales a slow breath, consciously holding himself back from tearing any more feathers out. Cas doesn’t deserve that, especially after all the shit he’s dealing with.

“We do get sick,” Cas says, his voice breaking through Dean’s morose reminiscing of the past week, “But never with the type of illnesses that can be treated outside of Heaven.”

“That’s what Sammy told me,” Dean says heavily.

“You were worried?”

Dean pokes him in the muscular part of the wing. “Of course I was worried.”

Cas’s head tilts, but not enough that Dean can make out his expression. “Because we’re friends.”

Dean swallows. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “because we’re friends.” He tugs on a few more feathers, and one comes loose. He holds it between his fingers for a beat, rubbing his thumb along the vane. With a sigh, he moves onto Cas’s other flight feathers. He gives them a few long strokes, unable to help his smile as he feels at the power, the potential, all hidden in Cas’s wings. But, eventually, he has to straighten up.

“All done,” he says with forced cheer as Cas turns around to face him.

Cas blinks a few times like he’s coming out of a trance. “Thank you,” he says gruffly.

He spreads his wings.

Dean’s breath catches in his chest, and his awe must show all over face, judging by Cas’s barely-there smirk. But, dammit, Dean’s going to enjoy the sight. Cas never puts himself on display like this, preferring to play the nerdy beekeeper in a trench coat rather than an almighty Angel of the Lord.

Cas turns his head to inspect Dean’s work. He gives an experimental flap, sweeping all the old feathers littering the floor up into the air. “Thank you, Dean,” he says sincerely. He folds his wings back, and Dean’s heart aches for something he never had in the first place.

“Don’t - don’t mention it,” Dean chokes out.

A fluffy piece of down drifts down to settle on Cas’s nose. He goes cross-eyed to keep it in view.

Dean cracks up. Grinning, he reaches up to brush away the offending bit of down.

Cas catches his arm in an iron grip, his own face oddly intense.

“Cas?”

But before Dean can finish his sentence, Cas pulls him closer and seals their mouths together.

Dean lets out a muffled (completely manly) noise of surprise against Cas’s lips before muscle memory takes over. As Dean kisses back, Cas makes a light soothing rumble in the back of his throat, his touch gentle and warm. Dean’s other hand grasps desperately at Cas’s shirt, anchoring him in place. An electric, bubbly feeling is exploding in his chest, a wild kind of joy Dean normally would tamp down, tell himself, watch out for the other shoe to drop.

Other shoes like Cas’s missing memory.

Dean freezes, and it takes him a long moment to realize Cas isn’t moving either. His grip on Dean’s arm has gone slack. Dean opens his eyes to find Cas’s eyes wide open and glowing with an electric blue light.

Fuck.

Dean’s watched his fair share of angel-on-angel porn and more than his fair share of angel-on-human porn, and kissing’s not supposed to do that.

Dean takes a stumbling step back. “Cas?” he tries.

But Cas doesn’t move. He doesn’t give any sign he heard Dean at all.

Dean falls forward, tripping over his feet. He grips Cas, hard, by the shoulders. With his heart in his throat, he gives Cas a small shake. “Cas?” he tries again, and his voice sounds alien to his own ears, loud and breathy with his panic. He shakes him harder. “Cas!”

Several agonizing seconds pass, and the light slowly dims from behind Cas’s eyes, leaving behind his normal blue.

“Dean?”

Dean’s knees nearly give out with relief. “Hey,” he says weakly, “Nice to have you back, buddy.”

Cas blinks a few times. He swallows, a strange expression coming over his face.

“You okay?” Dean demands. “What the fuck was that?”

Cas stares at him. “That was the curse breaking.”

Read Part II here!

[moeyy-writes]

Here and Now - Part 2

Zak Bagans x Reader

Warnings: some language (is that a warning?), mention of some gruesome events (show/canon-typical), some fluff. That’s about it.

Word Count: 1,457

Series Master List || My FanFic Master List

You stared at the screen, waiting for the exact time where Aaron claimed to see a shadow in the doorway. Jay watched the screen beside you, squinting ever so slightly. You had bugged him a million times about getting his eyes checked, but he refused. Stubborn ass. But, it was his choice, and that was that.

“There,” you whispered as a dark mass rushed over to the left of the door frame. It was faint, but there was definitely something there. You picked up your walkie talkie.

“Hey, Aaron. We definitely caught something on the night-vision camera in the corner of the room. It doesn’t look like a figure from this view, but there’s definitely a dark mass of some sort there.” It looked more like a mist, but it was really dark. No light was passing through it.

“Man, I saw a shoulder and an arm go through that doorway. I may have caught it on my camera too, but I don’t know.” He was obviously shaken up, having been left in the most active room alone again.

“Well, mark the time and we’ll go over it later,” you noted, writing the time on your notepad.

“Cool, cool.” Aaron continued his EVP session as your gaze moved to another camera. You watched Zak and Billy in the basement, who were gathered around the spirit box. They didn’t seem to be getting any voices yet, but they had only been down there for thirty minutes or so.

“I’m surprised that Zak and Billy aren’t hearing anything. Someone was found buried in that basement. I was sure things would be nuts down there.” You continued to watch the monitor with Jay, hoping for something to come through the static.

“Yeah,” Jay replied. “I didn’t like the feeling I got down there earlier.” He rested his head on his fist and kept watching the screen.

Zak sighed and shifted his weight, staring down at the spirit box in his hand. “Why won’t you talk to us?”

“This is your last chance to talk to us,” Billy announced, his frustration clear on his face. You couldn’t help but smile at the two, before turning back to Aaron’s screen.

Just as you changed your focus, Aaron’s voice came over the walkie.

“Dude, you guys, I keep seeing that damn shadow out of the corner of my eye.” He peered around the room, his eyes wide with what you were sure was fear. You zoned in on him, trying to capture what he was seeing.

Meanwhile, Zak and Billy joined you back at the nerve center, not capturing anything else in the damn basement. Zak pulled up a chair and sat between you and Jay, casually stretching his arm over the back of your chair. It was something he did all the time, but something about the closeness made your heart flutter. Was it because you knew about Zak’s feelings towards you now, and you knew it wasn’t just a friendly motion? You sucked in a deep breath and smiled to yourself.

“Woah, Billy, don’t sit down. I want you to go up there with Aaron and bring the SLS with you. See if you can capture a figure from whatever shadow Aaron is seeing,” Zak instructed with a smirk. Billy huffed and sighed, before following his instructions.

Once Billy made his way up to Aaron, the three of you watched the screens closely. Zak kept his arm behind you while he leaned forward just a little. A small whiff of his cologne filled your senses, spicy and dark. Mmmm. You never realized how good he smelled. You snuck a glance over to him, taking in the sharp features of his jaw. Geez, he was beautiful.

You tensed as you felt his thumb softly smoothing circles into your shoulder. Your eyes flicked back over to Zak, capturing his gaze. He smiled, tilting his head a little, almost as if to ask you if what he was doing was okay. You just smiled, then turned back to the screen.

Why the hell were you so affected be him all of a sudden? You had a crush on the lead investigator pretty much since you met. But, now that you knew he felt the same way, and those feelings were out in the open, something felt different. You felt different around him. It was like you needed to squeeze out every moment of touch, every second of closeness. You craved it now more than ever.

You needed to calm yourself down. You weren’t even officially dating yet.

The rest of the night went on without too much excitement. You got back to your condo just after seven thirty in the morning, and after a shower, you crawled straight into bed.

Your body ached with exhaustion as you settled into bed, waiting for your body to succumb to the impending slumber. After lockdowns, it always took you a good two to three nights to get back into the swing of things. You usually slept for about six hours the day you got back home, then six hours more whenever you ended up falling asleep that night, then for about eight hours the next. By then, you usually were back to a reasonably normal sleep pattern.

Much to your luck, the location for this week’s location was in Vegas, allowing you to return home right after the lockdown. A rare treat you were incredibly thankful for.

You rested your head onto your pillow and threw your phone beside you on the mattress. You had switched on the Do Not Disturb setting, hoping no one would disrupt your sleep. Nothing was going to come between you and your much-needed rest.

You woke up just after two in the afternoon. Your body was stiff from sitting in the nerve center for all those hours, but you needed to get up and moving. There was no reason to just lay there in bed. It only really made you more tired. You needed to get up and about with your day.

As you rolled over, you grabbed your phone and unlocked the screen.

4 New Messages: Zak Attack

(10:48am) Zak: Hey, are you up?

(10:56am) Zak: You must be asleep. Sweet dreams. :)

(12:40pm) Zak: Text me when you’re awake. No rush. I just wanted to know when you’re free next. You know, for our date. ;)

(1:04pm) Zak: Okay, one more text. Also, random question. Are you a coffee or tea person? And, what kind?

You grinned down at your phone as you sprang upright and swung your legs over the side of your bed. Sure, Zak texted you pretty often, mostly about upcoming lockdowns, but never right after a lockdown. That’s when he claimed he needed his ‘beauty sleep’.

With a smile, you thought about your answer.

(2:14pm) Y/N: Hey Zak, I’m awake now. :) I’m free tomorrow or anytime the rest of the week. I should be pretty well rested by then.

You plopped your phone down beside you as your stomach growled. You hadn’t eaten much since dinner before the lockdown, except for the protein bar you shoved down your throat before you drifted off to sleep. Hmm, pancakes.

As you turned back to your phone, you watched the little ellipses wiggle on the screen, indicating that Zak was already writing a reponse.

(2:17pm) Zak: Good morning, gorgeous. ;) Tomorrow is totally doable. What about my other question?

(2:18pm) Y/N: It’s the afternoon, you dork. And you mean questions? :P I like both tea and coffee, but I’m a little more of a coffee person.

(2:20pm) Zak: Smart ass. And okay. Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up around 3pm? We can both sleep in, and I’ll have coffee at the ready.

(2:21pm) Y/N: Where are we going?

(2:22pm) Zak: It’s a surprise. Deal?

Your smile grew as you chuckled to yourself. Zak Bagans was such a dweeb. He absolutely loved planning things and surprising people. It made things easy when you went on investigations and toured the surrounding areas. No one ever fought about where to eat. Zak always found a place and acted as a tour guide as he dragged you all around the location. He took everyone’s liking and food restrictions into account. But, he was a natural planner, which was something you simply weren’t.

(2:25pm) Y/N: Deal. 3pm tomorrow.

(2:26pm) Zak: Cool. I can’t wait. ;)

You launched up from the bed and quickly shuffled to the hall and headed for the kitchen. You were beyond excited to hang out with Zak alone, without the rest of the crew for once. Your stomach flipped as you repeated that it was a date in your head.

A fucking date with Zak Bagans. Oh, boy.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated! <3

[bqstqnbruin]

Under the Mistletoe

Ok, there are no Ethan Keppen GIFs but this is one with Mitch as your brother, so we’re gonna go with a Mitch GIF. ANYWAY, this was requested forever ago, but since I’ve been studying and also suck, I just finished it, so I hope you like it! 

Also Merry Christmas in July, I saw @hockeylvr59​ doing something with Christmas in July and it kinda inspired me to do it, too (if you hate that I’ll take it down 😶)

___________________________

Ethan insisted that you go to the party since it was the first one where everyone in his group of friends was home from school and hockey in the last few years. You tried to tell him you didn’t want to, especially since he and your brother had a lot of mutual friends from playing hockey growing up, but he thought it would be fine since Mitch wasn’t going to even be home for another day or two. Ethan was still afraid to tell Mitch that you two were dating, and honestly, you felt the same way. You loved Mitch, but as his younger sister, his protectiveness of you was absolutely terrifying.

You were sitting on the couch that was in the basement, one of the guys convinced his parents to let him have ‘a few friends over,’ which turned into the entire hockey team that he and Ethan were on, random kids from the school they went to, and anyone else that heard about it showing up and probably trashing the house. He had managed to decorate his basement with Christmas decorations, half the guys wearing Santa hats, the other half wearing an open Santa suit jacket with no shirt on underneath it. Why they did this, you didn’t know, but you had to admit, the thought of Ethan with just the suit jacket on was a nice one, even if he had opted for the Santa hat. 

“But it’s your first Christmas together, you have to post some sort of picture on your Instas!” Jacklyn whines, throwing herself down on the couch next to you. Ethan jumps a little, not expecting his beer to spill on his leg, throwing his arm around you and pulling you in trying to ward off Jacklyn. “Or, ohh! Do that Tik Tok challenge where it’s like one person is like ‘this is my best friend, they don’t know I’m in love with them, why don’t I kiss them!’”

“There are so many things wrong with what just came out of you,” you say, laughing, Ethan not even paying attention to the conversation. “First, there is nothing anywhere that says we have to post a picture. Second, Mitch follows us on social media and would murder both of us if he found out we were dating by seeing a picture instead of telling him. Third, I don’t have a Tik Tok and don’t want to make a video. And, fourth, there are so many challenges out there, and you pick that one? We’re already dating.”

“It’s funny, it’s cute, and why not? Oh, come on! Ethan, you have a Tik Tok, don’t you?”

“What?” he says, snapping away from the conversation with the guy standing in front of him, who now was also paying attention to the conversation.

Jacklyn goes on to explain the challenge she was telling you about, Ethan raising his eyebrow and giving her a look that says, ‘you’ve got to be kidding.’ “That sounds like a better challenge for you and Aidan.” Your jaw drops as Jacklyn’s face goes white.

“I don’t like you. We’re not friends,” she deadpans, Ethan’s friend freaking out about it.

“No way, is this the girl Aidan was talking about?” his friend asks, plopping down at your feet. “Oh, I’m Trevor, by the way,” he says, reaching out his hand to you. Not really processing what was going on past Jacklyn and Aidan, you reach out and half-heartedly introduced yourself. Jacklyn and Aidan would be cute together, and that was what you were focused on more. “He’s been talking about this one girl who he’s like in love with, who he thought only liked as a friend. That’s got to be you, he said you two were like best friends.”

“Oh, come on. He’s close with a lot of girls, it could be anyone” Jacklyn tries to defend herself. You look over to Ethan who nods, mouthing ‘it’s her.’ 

“Nah, he said something about the ring this girl always wears; it’s extravagant and her dad gave it to her for her last birthday. It’s got the red birthstone on it,” Trevor goes on while Jacklyn looks at the ring on her middle finger, the one fitting Trevors description. While Trevor thinks more about the girl that had to be Jacklyn, he snags Ethan’s beer and downs what was left of it. 

“I was drinking that!” he protests, removing his arm from around you to go get more, “And you’re talking about a ruby, dude.” 

“He knows birthstones?” Jacklyn asks.

“His mom’s best friend owns the jewelry store downtown, remember? But that’s not what we’re talking about. Why don’t you go do that Tik Tok Challenge with Aidan since you two aren’t already dating like Ethan and I are?” 

“There’s no way I could do that! He’s talking to people!” Jacklyn squeals, tucking her legs underneath her.

“Isn’t the point of the challenge to catch them off guard?” you ask her. 

Ethan comes back, drinks in hand for you, him, and Trevor. “If he rejects you then you tell him we dared you to do it and that you never back down from a dare.”

“If I do this, then you have to post a picture of you and Y/N kissing under the mistletoe,” she tries to bargain with you. 

She’s good enough friends with both you and Ethan to know that doing that would lead to Mitch finding out. You look at Ethan again, taking a drink of the beer. If this was something you had to do, it would be easier if weren’t completely sober for this. “I could put it on snap, Mitch doesn’t have me there,” he suggests. 

“You actually have to kiss him first or we aren’t doing it,” you tell her.

Trevor from the floor, says, “I’ll film it,” as he’s watching the interaction unfold, Jacklyn’s face getting more and more red as time goes on. You all look over to the wall where Aidan was standing, talking to one of the guys from the team and what looked to be his girlfriend. “We can do that, ‘there’s my best friend part he doesn’t know I’m in love with him,’ while he’s talking to them.” 

“I still don’t know what this whole thing entails but whatever,” you say, snuggling closer to Ethan as he kisses your head. “You’re sure you don’t follow my brother on Snapchat?”

“As far as I know,” he shrugs, pulling out his phone to check. No Mitch Marner anywhere on his friend’s list. “Nope, we’re good.” 

Trevor starts filming Jacklyn with Aidan in the background, her looking more nervous than she wanted to show. There was no way she would actually do this. And that would mean no risk of your brother somehow seeing you kissing Ethan on social media. “Do you think she’ll actually go through with it?” you whisper in Ethan’s ear, reaching up to play with the end of his Santa hat. 

“Can I still kiss you under the mistletoe if she doesn’t?” he whispers back, his eyes flicking between your own and your lips. 

“That’s so cliche when you could just kiss me right now.” He does as you say, only to be interrupted by Jacklyn saying something about having to wait until she kisses Aidan. No way would she go through with this, right?

“Well, when are you going to actually do it?” you ask, finishing off the beer in your cup.

“Once he’s not with other people.”

“It’s a party. How likely is it that he’s going to be alone any time soon?” Trevor says, still holding the phone up to record what she’s about to do. 

“Looks like it would be pretty likely,” Ethan says, motioning over to a now alone Aidan, standing there looking at his phone while nursing the drink in his hand. 

Jacklyn looks at you, mortified, eyes wide and probably starting to shake. “You can’t be making me do this.” 

“You were going to make us do this. If you really don’t want to do it, no one is forcing you. Trevor can just delete the videos you already took,” you point out, which seems to calm her a little bit. “Seriously, you don’t have to do this if you aren’t comfortable doing it.”

She looks over at Aidan, him still looking down at his phone. Ethan and Trevor look back and forth between you and Jacklyn, “Get the camera ready,” she says to Trevor. 

She gets once Trevor has the video going, focusing on Aidan as Jacklyn goes up to him. They’re either far enough away that they’re out of earshot, or they’re just talking incredibly quietly so that you can’t hear them. You and Ethan are leaning forward, Ethan’s arm snaking around your waist and pulling him closer to you. If she does this, you would have to post the picture of you two under the mistletoe that’s hung at the bottom of the stairs, and even though Ethan knew he didn’t have your brother as a friend on Snapchat, something in him was convinced he would see it anyway. 

You could feel your heart racing, actually getting excited to see her kiss Aidan when you heard a commotion upstairs. Ignoring it, you put your hand on Ethan’s thigh, squeezing it as Jacklyn actually kisses Adian, taking way longer than the challenge was probably meant to take. She gives him a quick peck, pulling away as Aidan looks shocked, not saying anything. She stands there for a second before starting to pull away. Aidan puts his cup on the floor, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around to kiss her again. 

“Oh, my god!” you hear yourself say, Ethan and Trevor also freaking out over what they were watching. They pull away, both of them beaming. “Looks like we’re posting a picture together,” you say to Ethan. Jacklyn comes back over, Trevor already starting to edit the video. “So that looked like fun!” 

“We’re going out to dinner on Thursday, and then back to his place,” she says, her cheeks red with excitement, none of you actually believing what just happened.

“I wonder what all that noise was about upstairs,” Trevor finally says something. 

You and Jacklyn shrug as Ethan lifts you off the couch. “Come on Trev, you’re still on camera duty.” He brings you over to the mistletoe at the bottom of the stairs, praying that no one comes down and photobombs the picture. Ethan pulls you close to him, his hand finding the small of your back.

“If we really wanted this to be more Christmas-y, you could take Trevor’s Santa jacket,” you suggest. He rolls his eyes, a smile on his face because it’s for you. He gets the jacket from Trevor, stripping his shirt off to get the full effect. 

“We could caption it ‘I saw a Marner kissing Santa Claus,’ he says, you throwing your head back in laughter. “Ready?” he turns to Trevor who gives the thumbs up. 

Ethan kisses you, short and sweet while Trevor takes the picture. You pull away, both of you beaming as Jacklyn starts getting all mushy about how cute the photo was, how she just wished you could post it everywhere for the world could see. You were about to say something about how the entire world was going to see her and Aidan’s first kiss while Ethan kisses your cheek again, when you hear someone yelling from the top of the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing?” You and Ethan snap your attention to the voice that seemingly fell down the stairs.

Your eyes go wide, turning to Ethan, “Oh, you should,”

“Run,” you say at the same time, Ethan trying to do as you say as Mitch comes flying down the stairs. You swear he looked like he was going to kill Ethan, your boyfriend getting away just in time for you you stop Mitch in his tracks.

“What the hell are you doing?” you say to him, trying to push him away from the corner Ethan was now trapped in. 

“What does he think he’s doing?” 

“The same thing he’s been doing for months! Giving me a kiss?”

“Months?” he looks at you, visibly hurt when he realizes this is something you’ve been keeping from him.

“Come on,” you say, dragging him up the stairs and out to the front of the house. “We’ve been dating since your last playoff run and we haven’t told you because you haven’t been home and we wanted to tell you in person,” you admit once you’re alone on the lawn.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were going to when you came home, which wasn’t supposed to be for a day or two, in my defense. Plus, every time I tell you about a new boyfriend you want to murder them.” 

“That is not true!” he defends himself. You raise your eyebrows at him, not amused when he knows you’re right. “Ok, but it’s because you’re my sister. I have to protect you.”

“That means you murder him after he breaks my heart, not when I start to fall for him.”

“Wait, do you love him,” he asks, pulling you in for a hug.

“I think so.” 

“Ugh,” he groans, dragging you back inside, “That means he’s going to be around for a while, doesn’t it?”

“Watch it, Marner.”

[fangirl-1523]

Cherry Bomb: Chap. 1

For clarification, Milven is purely platonic and events from Stranger Things 3 did not happen, such as Jim Hopper's death and the Byers and Eleven moving away.

June 14, 1985

"Roth... Roth...." the voice of Mike Wheeler said coming from the comm.

[Y/N] groaned and picked it up. "What you want, Blackbird?"

"You want to come over and play some D & D? With the rest of the party? Over." He asked.

[Y/N] [L/N] had lived next to the Wheeler family since she was five. Her family had moved there for a change of pace as it was a small town and very different from Indianapolis. She and Mike had grown up as window neighbors.

"But my elvan archer will die! It's happened every time. So much for me trying to be a female Legolas. Over."

"Then, bring your other characters. I know you created like twenty, so you can continue on playing with us for ten hours. Over." He told her.

[Y/N] could faintly hear the sound of snickers and giggles from the other end followed by the normal "Shut up!" from Mike. She sighed to herself.

"What will I be getting out of this again? Over."

"Time with the greatest people you have ever known? Over." Mike paused before adding. "We have food. Blackbird out."

"I'll be there in a minute. Roth out." [Y/N] put the comm down and left the room.

She didn't hear the endless teasing from Eleven, Max, Lucas, and Dustin. Or any of what Mike said in retaliation of their teasing and mochery. Instead, while that was going on, she hopped down the stairs to her mom. At the moment, it was just [Y/N], her mom, and her cat at the house (her parents were seperated, but they both liked the small town life of Hawkins, Indiana).

"Hey, momma, can I go over to the Wheeler's right now? Mike invited me over to play Dungeons & Dragons with the party." She asked finding her mom in the kitchen baking some deserts.

"Sure, sweetie. Just be back by six. You're father will be over here to pick you up for the weekend." Her mother, [Mother Name], replied.

It was the Friday after school let out for the summer and the first thing the party wanted to do was play Dungeons & Dragons. Of course some people (Max Mayfield) resented that notion seeing as it was summer which meant no more school and some more beach.

"Okay. Love you! Bye!" [Y/N] kissed her mom's cheek and zoomed out the door to her neighbors house.

She knocked on the door and Nancy opened the door for her. The upcoming senior at Hawkins High sighed before allowing the young girl that hadn't been involved with anything weird yet into their house. One thing the party, Jim Hopper, Joyce Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathon Byers, and the Scoup Troop all agreed on was to leave the girl out of it. Out of all of it. [Y/N] went down towards Mike's basement where she found the boys setting up the pieces at the table and the girls were setting up snacks such as chips, some bite sized deserts, and soda.

"Hi, [Y/N]." Eleven said.

"Hi, El." [Y/N] said coming over to the two girls.

"[Y/N], which character are you playing?" Mike said looking through the folder labeled [Y/N]'s characters.

"Uh... actually... I wanted to try to be... a... uh..." then the girl mumbled what she wanted to do.

Max Mayfield and Eleven smirked (as they had heard what she said). Dustin Henderson asked for her to speak up, so they could hear her. All they got out of her was a smear of red across her face. Now that the boys were staring at her and her two only female friends were smirking, she instantly regretted every decision she had ever made.

"You know what? Just forget it. I'll use my elva-."

"She wants a chance as Dungeon Master, but she is too nervous to say anything to you four." Max said cutting her friend off.

[Y/N] tried to cover her face with her hands as she waited for the laughter to come right afterwards. It was a stupid idea. A stupid, silly thing to suggest she do. Way to make a fool out of you, [Y/N]. the [H/C] haired girl thought to herself before shying away from her friends.

"Since when do you know how to be Dungeon Master?" Dustin asked as he and Lucas sneakily (not that sly though) glanced over at Mike.

"It can't be that much difficult than putting on shows with action figures and dolls while my little cousins intervene about what the different characters could do." And Mike taught me.

"I say we give her a shot. I'm tired of doing the same thing ever single time." Max said.

"We don't do the same thing every time!" Lucas retorted back at his girlfriend.

"It's the same thing, but different outcomes based on the die roll." Eleven agreed.

"Just let her be dungeon master, guys. For one day. I actually want to see where she'll go with it. I'll just be a Gnome Thief." Mike told them.

"I don't have a problem with that." Will Byers added making his first statement in the conversation.

"Go on, [Y/N]." Dustin said glancing at the seat next to Mike. "You can sit there."

[Y/N] didn't see the glare Mike sent Dustin as she sat down in the seat. Eleven and Max got some food before sitting down.

"So, are we ready?" she asked them.

"Yeah. Let's see what you got." Lucas told her.

"To be clear, this is going to be totally -."

"Just start already, [Y/N]." Mike interrupted her. "Yes, we're well aware this is 'Geek Improv'."

Eleven looked from Mike to [Y/N]. As soon as she started to go to school with the party, she met [Y/N] almost as soon as she stepped into the door. And instantly, she understood why Mike hadn't been able to return her feeling. And now, watching the two of them, it reminded Eleven of why that was. Time passed and they all realized how much more involved she was with the details than Mike was and they all knew the adventure they were on was all sprouted from her mouth like bullshit. Because it was. She was making it up as she went along.

"You have reached the end of your quest. But your quest is not over. Instead, one of your party members carries a dark secret. One of them is actually the Great Darkness that vows to shrall the land in eternal night. You hear the cackle of what sounds like the Wicked Witch of the West Hehehe! As the sound bounces off the walls of the cave, you wonder where and who the sound is coming from. But it's too late. Your hear it say 'It's too late for you. Hehehehe!' And the voice is coming from-."

"[Y/N]," Karen Wheeler, Mike's and Nancy's mom, said walking down into the basement, "your mom says your dad is waiting for you. Time to go."

Karen Wheeler went back upstairs and Dustin leaned over to Mike, "Since when does your mom come down here?"

Mike simply shrugged. "Can we finish this really quickly?"

[Y/N] shook her head getting up from her seat. "Sorry. Dad's impatient as it is, and we're supposed to go to Chicago for the weekend. I'll be back Wednesday though. We can finish it then. Have a good weekend, Blackbird. Fellow geeks." She saluted them.

"Bye, Roth. Have fun with your dad." Mike said as she went back up the stairs.

"Dude!" Max exclaimed once she was out of earshot.

"What?!" Mike fired back.

"Do you two really have to act like that?" Max asked him.

"Like what?" he asked her.

"Like that! Two love sick idiots. Why don't you just ask her out?" asked Max.

"He can't."

"He's tried."

"Countless times."

"Failed countless times."

"Stuck in the friend zone, is he." Dustin said in the voice of Yoda.

"He's not that stuck. She likes him back. Right, El?" Max asked looking at her female friend for assistance.

"She does." Eleven nodded her head in agreement. "Just ask her out."

"Do it. When she comes back." Max told him.

"Jeez, okay, I will." Mike told him.

Wednesday came, and he commed [Y/N]'s radio. "Roth... Roth... Roth...."

No answer. Usually she would pick up after the second or third Rorh, but silence filled the radio. He tried again thinking her mom may have cleaned up her room while she was away (it has happened before). Silence.

"[Y/N], you there? Blackbird here ... trying to talk to you. Over." Silence.

This was weird. It was strange. Even when she was angry with him, she never metaphorically left him on read. She would radio in that she was angry and didn't want to talk and there would be a "I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU! I HATE YOU!" followed afterward that she didn't really mean. And that's when he heard shouting, yelling, and screaming from next door. It sounded like her parents.

Mike got out of his basement and along with his family and the rest of the street watched the scene play out between [Mother] and [Father] who hadn't spoken or saw one another in months.

"What do you mean you lost her? She was here yesterday! She called telling me she was back in Hawkins!" [Mother] yelled.

"I went to get food, and then she's gone! I checked everywhere for her! She's not here! And I'm pretty sure she didn't go back to Chicago! So, yeah I lost her! But I didn't lose her OKAY? She's missing! Gone! And it's not my fault! Dear god, why would you think it was my fault?" [Father] yelled back.

"It wouldn't be the first time you thought that." [Mother] mumbled before shouting, "If you didn't lose her, then help me find her! Help me find my daughter! Before something awful happens to her!"

[Y/N] was missing? Mike looked over at Nancy who was looking at him back. They both knew that the Upside Down had a part to play in the disappearance of [Y/N] [L/N].

What Netflix Original would the characters of Stranger Things watch the most often?

Eleven - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (Eleven would compare the events of her life to Sabrina's events in her life when they are sorta similar)

Mike - Orange is the New Black (gives me Mike vibes)

Max - Sex Education (gives me Max Mayfield vibes)

Will - A Series of Unfortunate Events (i feel like he would have read the books in elementary school, so he felt obligated to watch the show)

Lucas - Lost in Space (i didn't know what to pick for Lucas, so I just picked something random)

Dustin - Voltron Legendary Defender (Dustin has always given me vibes that he's a cartoon watcher type of TV person)

Steve - Daybreak (gives me Steve vibes)

Nancy - The Worst Witch (this was an accident. Nancy didn't want to watch it, but saw the trailer, thought it was interesting, and watches it afterwards).

Robin - Disenchantment (doesn't it just scream Robin at you?)

Jonathon - You (he would have heard about it from Nancy who wanted to watch it and he got hooked)

Joyce - Santa Clarita Diet (funny zombie humor)

Hopper - The Crown (this would have started off as something that both Hopper and Eleven watched together as a sort of father-daughter show or whatever, but he got hooked really, really fast)

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Past. Present. Future?

One-Shot

This Bucky one-shot is for @iguessweallcrazyithinktho 's awesome summer challenge 😍 From the long list of prompts I am using number 69 (because I am as mature as a 10-year-old). Check out the challenge here.

Prompt 69-You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.

Description: As the ex-Winter Soldier tries to put back together the few, misplaced pieces of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, he meets someone who reminds him of the charming, buoyant 1942 Bucky. But is that enough to truly bring him back?

This one-shot is based in 2024 and exists in the original MCU.

P.S.- Image isn't mine. I found it on Google.

Warnings: Curse words, brutal fight scene, torture, mentions of rape, spoilers for Avengers Endgame

PROCEED ONLY IF YOU ARE 18+!!

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Raw terror gripped Connie Tucker as she hid in a corner beneath the staircase. Amid the chaos, she heard heavy footsteps above her, thundering down the stairs. "Where the fuck did she go?" shouted one voice, "She couldn't have gone far," another responded, "All the gates are locked, she has to be in the compound," explained a third voice. "FIND HER" screamed the first voice, "And bring her to me aliv... AARGGH!"

Connie heard a metallic wooshing sound, followed by a large THUD. The air was filled with gunshots and exclamations. She dared to peek from behind the stairwell, only seeing the swirling colours of red, white and blue and a black shadow. Captain America was here, with him.

It took a while for the din to settle down in the faux military base. In the past year, Hydra had risen again, disguising themselves as members of the military and more. The government was unwilling to accept both; the return of Hydra and second, Sam Wilson as Captain America. Hence, they refused to acknowledge any mission by the duo and instead branded them as criminals in the media by feeding the people false information.

Bucky and Sam did a final check across the base, looking for any innocent prisoners or survivors.

As they neared the stairwell, Bucky's enhanced hearing caught on ragged breathing from behind it. He motioned Sam who nodded and kept his shield ready to strike.

They could hardly make out a balled-up shape in the corner. Dressed completely in black from head to toe, the person wore a mask, black sunglasses and a hoodie. The shape slowly revealed itself to be a trembling woman.

"Ma'am are you alright?" Sam asked, his voice deep. "Ye... Yes Captain," stuttered Connie as she removed her mask and sunglasses, "I am not... I am not with them. I am with you."

"What do you mean by 'with us'? Did you follow us here?" asked Bucky sharply. In all of his years as the Winter Soldier, he had been taught not to trust anyone- men, women or children.

"N... No. No. But I have pr... proof," she stammered again, clearly terrified of Bucky.

"What kind of proof ma'am?" Sam asked her, his tone a little gentle than Bucky's.

Before she could answer, a device in Bucky's hand beeped. "Shit," he muttered, "We have company approaching. Two minutes, max," looking at Connie, he said gravely, "Let's take her with us."

Sam sighed, but nodded in agreement. As Bucky held Connie by her hand, he smelled the faint scent of rose, delicate, sweet and lingering, coming off her. He stopped in his tracks as the scent took him back to 1942.

He heard a woman's laughter and saw flashes of fireworks in the sky illuminating what looked like a fair.

"What's wrong, Cyborg?! We gotta go!" Sam urged Bucky, effectively pulling him out of his reverie.

Connie was surprised as well. Did he somehow manage to recognise her...? But before she could complete her thought, she felt a light prick in her arm, and her vision went black.

...

Hidden in their safehouse under the radar, Sam noticed Bucky's anxious behaviour. Bucky kept pacing across the room, stealing glances at their unconscious roommate covered with a blanket. He finally sat in the corner, closing his eyes in frustration as he pressed his fingertips to his temples.

Sam hesitated before approaching Bucky. Bucky was his responsibility now. Even though he had compete control of his mind, he sometimes went through banxiety attacks. But this was different...

Bucky tried to focus on the memory. There was laughter, colorful lights, a large crowd and... Steve! Yes! He remembered Steve telling Bucky that he was taking all the stupid with him to the war. Damn that scrawny Brooklyn bastard, he thought. He strained his mind further to look at the petite figure. There was music. Was he dancing?

"Hey man," Sam put a hand on his shoulder, "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Bucky looked pointedly at the unconscious figure. "There's something about her that's... Familiar," he said slowly.

"Like as in you met her when you were a 'Cold Fighter'?", Sam could hardly keep his smile in check. Over the course of the months, he had found that Bucky hated the title 'Winter Soldier' and was reluctant to discuss his previous activities. So, he had to find new names to address his past. "Winter's Children" was met with a deadly growl, "Soldier's Adventures" received a hateful stare and "Starbucks' Orders" (because why the hell not) was greeted with an incredulous and confused expression. The "Cold Fighter" was somewhat of a neutral term, as in Bucky did not react to it. Which was progress.

Bucky frowned, "No. I think this memory is before all of that shit. Before the war. Back when," he smiled a little, "Back when Steve used to wear newspapers in his shoes."

"Ahh so this memory is from your youth?" Sam replied with a cheeky smile.

"I may be a 100 years old, but I can still kick your Willy Wonka ass," stated Bucky.

"Willy Wonka?" Sam raised his eyebrow.

"Sam Wilson. Willy Wonka," Bucky explained matter-of-factly, "Just like Bucky and Starbucks."

Sam patted Bucky's head, feigning disappointment, "It's okay grandpa. I am just so proud to see you trying. You will surely get there one day uncle."

Before Bucky could catch him, Sam skipped to the side, his laugh taunting Bucky. "What about her triggered the memory anyway?" he inquired.

Bucky shook his head, "It's her perfume. She smells like roses, but not the red ones. It is the scent of the sweeter roses, you know? Delicate, yet strong."

Sam slowly inched towards her, and took a large whiff. "Dude I only smell sweat and grime. You seriously need to stop sniffing women grandpa. It is frowned upon in the 21st Century," he quickly ducked and ran when Bucky sent a random box flying towards his head.

...

Connie slowly opened her eyes. At first, she thought she had gone blind, but slowly, she realised she was in a dark, cold basement of sorts. With her head still spinning, she managed to sit.

A light was suddenly switched on a few feet from her. She saw Captain America sitting beside the crude lamp. As her eyes adjusted further to the darkness, she saw the faint glint of the light reflecting off a metallic surface in the corner. The metal was attached to a man. To him.

"There's water besides your bed if you need it," Sam spoke, his voice stern. After Connie had gratefully taken a few sips, he continued, "You said you were with us. You said you had proof. Care to explain?"

Connie wrapped the blanket around her and nodded. "I am... I run a blog where I expose the Government and their elaborate lies. When they started to brand you two as terrorists, I... I knew there was something wrong. So I used some of my contacts and skills to figure out what were the authorities hiding," she paused to drink more water.

She then explained to them how she had tried to collect any sort of proof, be it photos, videos, emails, documents etc. That's when she stumbled upon the faux military bases where Hydra was hiding under disguise.

"Once I figured out where they were located, I went ahead to... To collect more proof. Today was the first time I visited such a base, and they caught me. I don't know what they would have done if you guys hadn't... Thank you," she gratefully ended her story.

Bucky stepped into the light, his body tensed, his face sporting a glare. Sam stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Noticing their distrustful stance, Connie reached into her pockets and pulled out a few things, "Here is the camera and the pendrive. These contain all the necessary information. You... You guys can take a look," she meekly suggested.

As Sam went ahead to confirm her claims, Bucky stood guard. Connie gathered up the courage to stare at the Winter Soldier in his eyes. She could barely make out his features in the dim light. Bucky noticed her curious gaze travel all over him, as if looking for something. What are you searching for? he thought. There was just something so familiar about her wondering look. Fuck this is frustrating! Where have I seen that before?

After a short while, Sam returned and gave a slight nod to Bucky. While she had been truthful about the proof, there were still a lot of things left uncleared.

"We need more information before we can proceed," Sam spoke to Connie carefully. Taking a seat, he further asked her questions about her contacts, her aforementioned skill set, how had she managed to enter the faux military base and so on. She informed them that they still had friends in the world, the most concerned friend being a man with a black eye-patch...

The interrogation lasted for what seemed like hours. When they were satisfied with the information shared, they decided to let her go. But before they did, Bucky had to ask her one last question, "What is your name?"

"Connie."

Connie.

The name rang like the bells of Notredame in Bucky's head. Connie.

He remembered her excitement when he had asked her to come to the Stark Expo with a friend. He recalled her curiously examining everything on display at the Expo. Her enthusiasm for dancing late into the night had been infectious.

Connie. The dark-haired young-dame who had been his date before he was shipped off to England. Whose faint rose perfume had him enveloped in a cocoon the night before he had left.

Connie.

Bucky had stood still, staring silently at the wall. He froze, feeling overwhelmed due to the memories which started flooding into his mind.

"Bucky. Bucky. BUCKY," Sam shook Bucky's shoulder. The Winter Soldier turned to look Sam, his eyes glistening with tears. Uh oh, Sam thought, and took Connie out of the room, pricking her hand with the sleeping medicine.

...

Connie woke up the next day in her house. Groggy with the medication, she barely managed to eat before she passed out again. The next day was slightly better for her. At least she managed to take a bath and eat breakfast and lunch. She also realised that her camera and pendrive were missing.

It was the third day when she stated feeling a lot better. After her morning routine, she scrolled through the news on her phone. The headlines barely suprised her.

"New Captain America and the Winter Soldier Proven Innocent."

"Government's Dirty Secrets are Out to Dry."

"Is our Government Hydra?"

"Captain America is Back, and this time he is Black!"

"Can we Trust the Winner Soldier?"

"Who is Sam Wilson and Why Should you Follow him?"

Smiling, she relaxed and sipped on her coffee. From what she knew about James Buchanan Barnes, he would find her soon enough.

...

10 months passed. 10 long months and there was still no sign of James. Connie kept checking the news for updates on their missions. While some people had claimed spotting them across different parts of the country, there was no concrete proof. Even their friend with the eye-patch had stopped answering her calls.

One of the fan sites had claimed spotting "The Winter Soldier" in her city, but that was weeks ago. Her hopes had been crashed when she didn't find James at her doorstep.

As she walked down the street, she stopped to look at her reflection in the store window. While she didn't look exactly like her Great Grandmother Connie, she still had some of her features. The cute button nose, big brown eyes and rounded cheekbones were quite similar to her ancestor. He had recognised the perfume, right? He must have seen the similarities... Or else he wouldn't have been so perturbed around her.

Lost in her thoughts, she started crossing the street without looking. A loud blaring horn scared Connie out of her wits. She jumped and looked at the oncoming truck, like a deer in the headlights.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Her mind willed her to run, but she stood rooted on the spot.

A strong pair of hands grabbed her waist, and pulled her to the safety of the sidewalk. Her coffee spilled over them both, but she was too terrified to notice. She kept looking at the truck with shock as it passed, it's driver hurling abuses.

"Are you okay?" asked a rough voice, gently. She turned to face him, her nose almost touching his face. Dark brown eyes stared into deep blue.

James had saved her.

When she finally managed to nod, he asked her further, "Who are you? You can't be... Her. Are you her?" his grip on her waist tightening further.

"I am her... I am her great-granddaughter," Connie confessed, looking down. Suddenly she gasped, "I spilled coffee all over you! I am so sorry! I... I didn't mean to I swe..."

"Who was she?" Bucky asked her, his hands on her waist stayed the same. Her rose perfume assaulting his senses in the most delicious way.

Color rose to her cheeks. "She was your girlfriend."

...

Bucky was behind Connie as they entered her small one-room-kitchen apartment. She had wanted to show Bucky something. She asked him to take a seat on the small couch, while she retrieved an old and weathered leather box from her cupboard.

Connie sat besides him with the wrinkled box in her lap. She carefully opened it, and said, "This box belonged to my great-grandmother. She gave it to me when I was just 10-years-old. She said that this box was full of memories of... Of her first love, who died in the war, fighting alongside Captain America against Hy... Hydra," her eyes were brimming with tears now.

Connie gingerly picked up an old crumpled photograph and gave it to Bucky. "This was taken at the Stark Expo, where I guess you guys had your last da... date." She then gave him a stack of envelopes, "She always wrote letters to you. Even after the news of your... your accident, she still kept writing them, but she never sent then across."

Bucky had an incredulous expression on his face. Why was it that he could recall every murder, could hear the painful screams of all his victims, but he couldn't remember the woman who had loved him so much?

He picked up the box and started going through its contents. He found a diary, two blue silk ribbons, a few pretty bows, a torn handkerchief and one dried daisy. "You had given her that daisy on your first date to the park. She... She kept it safe with her," Connie added.

"Did I give her all these things?" Bucky quietly asked her.

Connie smiled in response, "I know you have a lot of questions. Why don't you read her diary? You will hopefully find a few answers."

Bucky nodded. Thanking her, he took the diary and stood up as if to leave.

"Sergeant James," she said. As he turned around, her hands almost flew to her mouth, as if realising her mistake. "Can... Can I call you Sergeant James?" she asked slowly. When he nodded, she continued, "You can take the box as well. I think she might want you to have it."

...

Bucky read the diary from beginning to end, went through every letter, and checked all the records. Everything seemed genuine. She was genuine. He still felt as though he was missing out on something. But he just couldn't place his finger on it. If only Steve were here to help him remember...

When Bucky finally shared his concern with Sam, Sam nodded, understanding his friend's predicament, "That is expected. We spend our lives looking behind our shoulders. So when something good, someone good comes along, we just can't accept it. Why don't you spend more time with her? Get to know her better! Afterall she helped save our asses."

Bucky nodded, "Yeah you are right."

"Of course I am right baby! Now show me that famous buck-toothed smile!"

Sam dodged just in time to avoid a book hurtling towards him.

...

1 month after he had seen Connie, Bucky visited her again. Slowly, these visits grew in number as they helped him remember a small part of who he was. He saw the 1942 Connie through the memories she had left behind. Her great-granddaughter helped him navigate the letters and the diary by sharing whatever little she could remember about her ancestor.

Slowly, Bucky started nurturing feelings for the Connie in front of him, the rose perfume making it difficult for him to focus on anything other than her slender neck, her rounded cheekbones, her pink lips...

3 months later they officially started dating, having 'sealed the deal' with a kiss.

Bucky... No... Sergeant James had started smiling a lot more now. He even cut his bangs, shedding a part of the Winter Soldier from his life.

8 months later, when Connie was tending to James' recent wounds, he kissed her passionately, intimately. That night, the wounds lay forgotten.

13 months later, Connie moved in with James in his cosy cottage which was right outside the main city.

Hiding a small diamond ring under the floorboard of his bedroom, James was happy. He had found his personal ray of sunshine. He was finally free of the dark, cold life he had once led.

He sauntered towards the kitchen, where Connie was unpacking the ripe plums. They often made plum jam together for James and the rest of the new team. As James started washing the fruits, Connie's phone buzzed. Looking at the phone, she sighed, "I have to take this. It is my boss." James almost whined, "Don't. It's Sunday. You deserve a day off."

She kissed his cheek and headed towards the door, "This is will be just a minute. Don't eat the plums while I am gone!" James looked at her and took a large bite in mock defiance.

Shaking her head, she laughed and stepped outside the house.

"Hello," she answered the call.

"Madame Hydra, we are in position."

She turned around to look at the house. Shame, it was a beautiful cottage.

"Go ahead."

Lost in his bliss, James heard the gunshots a little too late. 3 bullets pierced his vibranium arm as another grazed his right shoulder. He ducked behind the kitchen island, but the bullets destroyed the marble. 10 agents broke-in through the ceiling, while armored vehicles knocked down the walls of his house.

Unable to find the hidden guns, James threw knives, pans and whatever else he could find at his attackers. He had to protect Connie. He couldn't loose her!

But an army of 150 men was too much even for the ex-Winter Soldier to fight. He laid face-down on the floor, with his vibranium arm broken and his left stub bleeding. His legs were pushed apart with a vibranium rod, with cuffs at both the ends securing his ankles. His right hand was twisted at a bad angle and was tied to his neck in such a way that he couldn't move his arm without crushing his wind-pipe.

He managed to breathe with his bleeding mouth, his nose already broken. All he could do now was send a silent prayer to the lord above. Please please keep my Connie safe.

As he finished that thought, a man stepped forward and started chanting, "Longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming, one, freight car."

James laughed. "Those words don't work on me anymore you dumb fuck!" he said, spitting his blood.

"No they don't, but I bet these new ones will." The scent of roses filled the room as James finally passed out.

...

He woke up in a cold, dark, empty chamber. Chained to a metal chair hanging from the ceiling, he tried to recollect what had happened. Was his Connie really working with Hydra? No, that couldn't be possible. How could she?

But before his thoughts could ramble on, the door opened behind his back and he heard footsteps. 

The sweet scent of roses filled the chamber, again clouding his senses. The woman in front of him had the same face as his Connie, but she was so different from her.

While his Connie liked wearing summer dresses and comfortable jeans and sweatshirts, this woman was dressed impeccably in a dark green pant-suit, with a floor-length cape draping her frame.

His Connie was always shy, innocent and adorable, whereas this woman was cold, hard and ruthless. 

"I am not going to lie. Looking at you, all bloodied and tied up helplessly, does make me feel good," she said, slowly circling him, "Even though I have studied you for decades now, I am still eager to learn if you have figured it all out, or not."

She huffed when James stayed silent.

"You know, I always used to look at those typical action movies and wonder, does a villian really monologue in actual life? And now," she turned to face him, "as I see you are actually clueless, I can't help but feel excited to tell you what's been going on. You might want to sit down for this," she added with a chuckle.

"Back in 1942, when you left for your assignment, you had given me your Mother's locket as a promise that you will marry me as soon as you came back. But we all know what happened in 1945. You went ahead and got yourself killed," she waved her arms as if annoyed, "I waited for you for 3 years, and for what?! Just to get a condolence letter from the Government?"

"Wait… What… You? No it was... No," James shook his head, as if trying to clear it. 

"Yes James. Me. Just like you, I am a woman out of time myself," she dipped her head to the side, as if sympathizing with him.

"A year later after your death, so you know who payed me a visit? You will get a 100 points for guessing!" she said in mock excitement.

James shook his head, still trying to process everything. 

"Hydra silly! That's who! Aaawww too bad you couldn't guess that one."

Immediately, James felt a strong electric shock from his chair. He gritted his teeth, barely being able to keep his anguish mute.

"So Hydra tells me that you are alive and they want to take me to you. Yada yada yada. Of course I went with them. But it turned out they only wanted me to carry your child! To them, it didn't matter when you didn't recognise me. They didn't care if you hurt me. Nope. They only wanted to get the job done. Which is what I like about Hydra. They always get the job done."

She clicked her heels, and started walking around him again. Only this time, she tugged on a little rope hanging from his chair, so he turned around with her. 

"When you finally couldn't get me pregnant, they were about to throw me away. But not before every man in Hydra had his 'fun with me'," she said with a scorn. "I was still breathing after they were done with me, multiple times. They were actually suprised to find me alive. Other women had suffered less and still couldn't live for another minute, while I had endured them for days. So they ran some more tests on me, and guess what?! While you couldn't get me pregnant, your sperm had somehow made me stronger. But not completely powerful yet. So they started their experiments."

She stopped to look at him. James face was filled with guilt. He knew first-hand how inhumane Hydra could be. To think his sunshine had to go through all that…

She twisted the corner of her lips at him, disappointed with his reaction. "This monologue is getting too one-sided, don't you think?" "I am sorry," he said quietly. His sorrowful eyes met hers, "I can help you. Please Connie. Let me help you."

"Help me?" she laughed a humorless laugh, "Help me? Darling, you couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions!"

She started swinging him back and forth. Every moment painful than the last for James. "Now where was I? Hhmm yeah the experiments! I will save you the trouble of knowing what happened to me in the last few decades. Let's fast forward to 2014 when SHIELD and Hydra fell. While others got arrested or killed, YOU, my love, escaped! There was not a single man left in Hydra. And so from its ashes of, I made sure Hydra was reborn. Afterall, cut off one head, two more shall grow, amirite?"

She held his chair and yanked him down towards her. James finally yelled, the physical pain too much for him to endure. "Didn't even think once about me did you? How could you? You don't even remember me! You left me to rot. You ignored my cries for help when you fucked me every night in that cell. You, James Buchanan Barnes, ruined my life. And for that, I will make sure you pay a hefty price."

With that, she stepped back a few paces. "Now as I understand, your old trigger words don't work on you anymore, do they?"

"Please," James managed to say through the pain, "Please hurt me, but no more innocent lives… Please… Not Sam… Please..."

"Oh yeah absolutely. Any other request?" her tone dripped with sarcasm.

"I love you. And I can… I can help you. Please let me."

"Aaawww baby I love you too! Now let's get started," she clasped her hands together.

"Rose. Silk. Box. Diary. Tattered. Letters. Daisy. Memory. Rebirth. Connie."

After each word, Bucky's body convulsed with an electric shock. As the words were repeated over the next few hours, the intensity of the shocks grew. Finally, Bucky lost the ability to think and hung his head in defeat.

Standing triumphantly in front of his defeated body, Connie asked, "Winter Soldier, are you ready for compliance?" 

"Rea…" before he could complete his word, they heard a loud explosion in the distance. A few armed Hydra agents entered the chamber. "Madame Hydra, he is here."

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

"Sam," Bucky quietly chucked.

Connie faced Bucky, with venom in her voice, "I promise you darling. We will meet again. Soon." 

As she left with her agents, Bucky quietly promised, "We will, my sunshine."

[beatsfortheillperth]

Words with Jetson

Our next interview is with a producer and rapper out of a beautiful place known as Tauranga, in New Zealand, This creative is known as Jetson.

He happens to be one of my cat, Rain's personal favourites for sleep time and regardless of the amount of thumping bass Jetson's music creates and picture frames it knocks over, I understand why he sleeps so sweetly.

Probably a lot to do with the fact that bass has rhythm, just like the sweet sweet words Jetson correlates with his word-plays in tracks such as "Milk" and "SENSEI". Not only impressing cats, Jetson has made moves and connections beyond the long white cloud, proving isolation doesn't always silence brilliance. Jetson brings words any generation can hold some sort of relevance to, words that allow one to notice life moves fast and slow and sometimes you just have to chill and become an observer rather than an instigator.

This is something I feel Jetson has accomplished with his rather low-key approach to releases and interviews.

Jetson is a natural, a true prodigy of sound and a sharer of moods, and to me, is a reminder that with a little bit of passion and persistence, great things can happen, whatever your field.

Jetson’s collective and label - Chill Children is evidence of that, as through it , Jetson is able to work and release with producers and beat-makers all over the globe.

emo the optimist, BACKWHEN, fuyu, eets, and junyii are just some of the diverse talents working with Chill Children and everyone on the catalogue are game-changers that make music that’s anointed in chills. 

Creators that push boundaries and portray emotion through sound in the most soothing way, one must check Chill Children.

So with that I hope you enjoy rare words with the nuance wonder, and in his own words.

Sit back, relax, get baked, create, f**k it.

Enjoy and much love.

Hey man thanks for the opportunity to share words. Let's start with a few random quick questions to get things going. Favourite Beverage: Lemon water. Favourite thing to do in your down-time: Make music/skate. Views on Reincarnation: It will be cool if it is true but I guess it doesn't really change anything if it is 🤷‍♂️ Favourite Food: Sushi. Favourite Album of All Time: Tribe Called Quest - Midnight Marauders A song to break it down to: Ethereal & Playboi Carti - Beef A song to chill to: Durand Jones & The Indications - Cruising to the park Do you prefer Sunrise? or Sunset? Why?: Sunset, because I'm never awake for sunrise. A childhood memory in regards to music: I remember saving up to buy Graduation by Kanye West and listening to that shit front to back for weeks straight. Favourite Place to be: Probably on an island.

Thanks for that, so let's start by asking what inspires you to produce and not only produce but continually produce, what to me is an array of tunes fitting so many genres?

Do you have a set of goals in place when you release a track or do you just hit upload and just hope people are feeling your sound?

What I like to listen to is constantly changing so I like to challenge myself to try and make the things that I'm inspired by.

I like to think that you never know what you're gonna get when you listen to my music but I've still got so much to learn and experiment with. I just try have fun with it and not think about it too much.

How long have you been producing music, and what did you find was hardest to get the hang of when it first came to producing beats?

I had no music theory knowledge or anything when I started making beats (I still don't have much) so there was a lot to learn right away.

Probably the hardest thing that I still battle with is knowing what you should release, what you shouldn't etc. It's hard to balance knowing when something is finished and when it still needs work.

Could you give a quick run-through of the process you follow when it comes to making a beat?

I try to change my process as much as I can to keep things fresh and fun for myself. But I really enjoy hearing a sample somewhere like keys, a quote or a rapper I want to remix, then I start working with that piece and see where it goes.

I'll mess around with the beat for a while and sometimes a track comes out. It can take one day, it can take months. Just depends.

Oldies are always goodies in my books and I have to mention your "bumps from 2014" mixtape, it truly is something special.

What inspired those little bumps? What were you doing back then? Also, can you remember the mood you were in when you made them?

I'm glad you like it haha. That was when I really had no clue what I was doing in terms of making beats, I was making all of those 'off the grid' in Ableton so I was placing drums in random places, I had no idea what bpm the samples were or anything. I really didn't know wtf I was doing, just going off of a vibe. 

My mood was really just being excited about making music, I was living in the basement at my mum's house blasting beats on the speakers all day.

[bumps from 2014] - https://soundcloud.com/sleepgodd/bumps-from-2014

You are also a rapper. My favourite NZ rapper to be more precise so thank you for the vibes you create. How did you find out you had it in you to rap and how old were you?

Damn, I appreciate that ✌️ I started rapping with a friend of mine, Jesse aka j cafe when we were around 20. We'd sit in my room smoking weed, and free-styling over beats on Soundcloud all night. 

Then we decided to make a track, so we found a beat and jumped in the closet to record some vocals on the laptop microphone.

We put it up on Soundcloud and I've been addicted to making music ever since.

Link to j cafe’s Soundcloud here - https://soundcloud.com/j-cafe

Cover art for Jetson’s 2019 rap release - bluntscraps

Album cover art by Takuroh Toyama

When did you first start rapping in front of others? What did it feel like in the beginning compared to now when you perform live?

I was insanely nervous the first time I ever did anything live and that feeling really hasn't left me lol.

Except now I know how to deal with nerves a bit better and actually enjoy the whole experience of doing something live.

I definitely think I'm a lot better now than my first time doing it, but I still kinda suck 😂 Staying on topic with your rapping, material-wise you have mad skills, your music is forever helping me chill out so thank you.

When did you start writing down your words and turning them into structured songs? Do you have any other artists that inspire your writing style?

When I was younger I really liked the flow of rappers rather than what they were actually saying.

Dudes like MF Doom and Earl Sweatshirt really influenced me at the start wanting to come up with lines that were catchy and different.

To form an actual track I usually just mumble over beats to get the flow, then I start placing words in the spots where I think they fit.

Does your family know you make music? If so what do they think of it, any dance parties in the Jetson Family Household? 

My immediate family all know and support my music. My mum used to have one of my tracks as her ringtone for years lol.

No jetson dance parties yet, but seems like every year more people in my extended family know about my music.

You were also a member of NZ Duo, Chill Children of which you rap and produce with yet another kiwi talent, both having low-key approaches when it comes to presenting yourselves through social media. What happened with that?

Me and J Cafe started Chill Children as a rap project in the early days but we moved to different places in the world and started doing our own solo projects so things sort of stopped happening with it.

I still credit those times with really getting me started on music though. He's still making dope shit and we'll probably link up on a track soon.

So then it became a sort of collective community, and through your Chill Children Soundcloud, you allow a platform for other artists to have their music heard.

Much Love on the concept, What inspired you to start sharing other artists music and what keeps you sharing? I'm very grateful btw, too many gems.

I work on music a lot with my friend emo the optimist (aka kodama) and we always wanted to run a label/collective kind of thing so we could release music from artists that we really liked.

After me and Jesse started doing our own thing, Chill Children seemed like the perfect place to start doing that.

It's one of my favorite things to work on as we have a hand in working with the artists on every release. I just love that we're able to share so much music that we really like with the world.

Check Chill Children here -

Bandcamp - https://chillchildren.bandcamp.com/

Soundcloud - https://soundcloud.com/chillchildren

Instagram - @chillchildren

Any new Chill Children material we should keep an eye out for?

We always have new music from new artists dropping so definitely follow our instagram/twitter if you want to stay updated on it.

We're currently working on a phonk compilation with guys like DJ Yung Vamp, Genshin etc. It's gonna be crazy 🤯

Back to your solo releases through your alias Jetson. What made you want to start putting out your material alone? Also, do you have a favourite Jetson release?

I really felt like I had to release music solo to see what I could do.

I've learned so much about myself through that process, became more confident and a better musician.

Probably my favorite rap track I've made is called 'Escape'.

Not many people have heard it but it's on Spotify and other places.

My favorite beat I've made is probably 'dylan rieder'.

Have to ask, are you working on any new releases we should keep an ear out for? If so, what can we expect with your coming releases?

I just released an album on Bandcamp called THROWED TAPES which was really influenced by DJ screw and other phonk producers.

I'm working on a lofi R&B tape for Bandcamp, a lofi beat tape, and I really want to release a rap EP.

Who knows when those will come out though haha

Taking it back a little to your rapping again I have to mention "Milk". What inspires the words in this track?

Also please share the story behind your track "Melancholy"? The words are somewhat mesmerizing, thank you!

With milk, I just heard the beat from bsd.u and really wanted to make something weird that just followed the flow of the beat.

On melancholy I tried to think about what I was saying a little more. The instrumental is so introspective and smooth I knew I had to come correct on it.

THROWED TAPES By Jetson, released August, 27, 2020

Musical Recommendations?

junyii - emo the optimist - knxwledge - j cafe - jesse james solomon - the smiths - dj yung vamp - shuggie otis - hm surf - alicks - MIKE - baccyard - meraki soul - steve hiett I could go on for days though lol

Creatives to keep an eye out for in music and art? Takuroh Toyama (photography) Moebius (visual art) Steve Hiett (photography/music) Any Last Words?

It really trips me out that people enjoy something I love to do so much.

So just thank you for vibing with me, I have a lot more to share ✌️

Support Jetson here -

Soundcloud - https://soundcloud.com/highimjetson

Bandcamp - https://jetsonbumps.bandcamp.com/

Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/artist/2bkf2PmiVyfCqg2uzIFIqJ

Twitter - https://twitter.com/jetsonbumps

Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/jetsonn/?hl=en

undefined

Milk by Jetson (Production by bsd.u)

[axelxmartinez]

(Hi I love to plot, hit me up and let’s chat!)

Introduction @redridgeimp​

FULL NAME:  Axel Jose Diego Martinez

NICKNAMES(S):  Axe, Ax, Diablo

AGE:  33

DATE OF BIRTH:  October 30th, 1986

PLACE OF BIRTH:  Red Ridge, Nevada

CURRENT LOCATION:  Red Ridge, Nevada.

ETHNICITY:  Latino. Mexican primarily and his mother was partially Caucasian (European descent), as well as Mexican and Dominican.

GENDER:  Cis male.

PRONOUNS:  He/him/his.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  Bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:  quoiromantic

RELIGION:  Atheist.

OCCUPATION:  Owner of Roberto's and Bone breaker for Valencia.

EDUCATION LEVEL:  he dropped out of high school in the beginning of 11th grade. 

EXTRACURRICULAR:  Boxing, lifting weights, playing video games, occasionally reading

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS:  Owns his parents house, a medium sized single family home with 4 bedrooms, an unfinished basement, nothing to brag about on the south side of redridge

SPEAKING VOICE AND ACCENT:  Deep, smooth voice with a hint of a Spanish accent, especially when he's angry. Normally keeps a steady tone, unless he’s really upset about something.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

FACECLAIM: Manny Montana 

HAIR COLOR AND STYLE:  black, shaved short

COMPLEXION:  Brown on the lighter side with neutral undertones

EYE COLOR:  Brown.

EYESIGHT: 20/30 the last time he checked, he probably could use corrective lenses for driving or reading something but he doesn’t bother with it.

HEIGHT:  6’1” or 185cm

WEIGHT:  169lbs or 77kg

BODY AND BUILD:  Muscular, lean, well-defined muscles. 

TATTOOS: tons, he gets them at random and the only theme to them is that they are black and white. The obvious ones most people see are the skull on his throat and the ones on his fingers and hands. (See his pinterest linked at the bottom for more ideas in this area)

PIERCINGS: none, he fights too much to have piercings.

CLOTHING STYLE:  jeans, hoodies, t-shirts, flannels, button down shirts, primarily black for everything. 

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS:  tattoos all over his body, small linear scar on his eyebrow where no hair grows, various scars all over his body - some covered with tattoos and some not. Also wears necklaces and rings, has a few random bracelets made by his nieces and nephews.

HEALTH.

MENTAL DISORDER(S):  ADD is all he’s been diagnosed with, though he likely has an anxiety disorder as well. 

PHYSICAL DISORDER(S):  none

ALLERGIES:  the pollen gets to him in the spring but he just ignores it

SLEEPING HABITS:  insomniac, he sleeps in small shifts between work and whatever he’s doing during the day. 

EATING HABITS:  Axel has a high metabolism so he eats a lot and often, he tends to pick things up while he’s moving around town and keeps protein bars and snacks in his car for in between meals

SOCIABILITY: extroverted introvert, he tends to be around people but doesn’t go out of his way to strike up conversation unless he feels it necessary, knows the person already, or is spoken to first. 

BODY TEMPERATURE:  neutral.

ADDICTIONS:  Nicotine, Caffeine, some would argue he drinks a little too much but he doesn’t think so.

DRUG USE:  Depends on the drug. He smokes marijuana frequently, but anything else is occasionally and he refuses to touch needles or anything made purely from chemicals (i.e. Meth). 

ALCOHOL USE:  Frequently, usually has a drink or two everyday. Sometimes more, sometimes less. He prefers brandy and tequila but also enjoys beer and will always accept a free drink regardless of what it is.

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS:  Hardworking, Efficient, Honest, Strong, Confident, Curious

NEGATIVE TRAITS:  Callous, Insensitive, Secretive, Possessive, Withdrawn, Stubborn

LIKES:  Fighting, good food, drinking, video games, smoking, sex, most things physical, some reading, fire

DISLIKES:  Schools, authority (mainly police), drama, airplanes, inactivity

FEARS: His only fear that he could ever pinpoint was his father.

HABITS: Plays with his fingers, touches his face, staring without talking, smoking, rain

ASTROLOGY:  Scorpio Sun, Sagittarius Rising, Libra Moon

PERSONALITY TYPE:  INTJ

MORAL ALIGNMENT:  Chaotic Neutral

HOGWARTS HOUSE:  Slytherin.

ELEMENT:  Fire

WEATHER: Overcast or Sunny

COLOR:  Black

MUSIC:  Rock, Metal, 90’s hip hop

MOVIE:  Documentaries or Action movies

SPORT:  Baseball and Soccer

BEVERAGE:  Brandy or Tequila

FOOD:  Waffles

ANIMAL: Snake

SEASON:  Summer

FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER: Antonia Martinez (Rodriguez)  

FATHER:  Roberto Martinez, deceased

SIGNIFICANT OTHER:  none

SIBLING(S):  5 younger siblings, names and ages vague for future wc

CHILDREN:  TBD

PET(S): Ball Python named Slinky

PROMPT.

“ROUTINE”: violence tw, death tw

Ever since he was a teenager, Axel has worked at Roberto’s. At his father’s insistence to teach him some responsibility, as the owner, it was common for him to hire his children and other relatives because he didn’t trust anyone. When Roberto, his father, went to prison and was simultaneously killed while there, his business was given to his eldest son. Axel wasn’t very torn up about losing his father, it made his life significantly easier and allowed him to take over the role as head of the Martinez family. Something he’d been well prepared for and while he wasn’t the nicest guy, he wasn’t the psychopath Roberto was. At least, he didn’t think he was. 

With his father gone, his days started with the sun (if he even got to bed the night before). He opened the convenient store, put the money in the till for the starting shift and made sure everything was turned on and stocked from the night before. Once the first shift comes in, he usually heads to the back to double check that everything is locked up and set up for the next shift. After that is usually when he gets word of anything Valencia needs him to do that day. Even though he’s not a soldier anymore, he likes to keep busy so he picks up slack where he can. If not, he starts checking in on his younger siblings and making sure they are doing what they’re supposed to be doing and staying out of trouble. If he doesn’t have anything pressing to get done, he heads to the gym to do his usual workout and possibly some sparring to keep his endurance at peak along with his fighting technique. Afterwards, he hits up Ridge Roasters if he’s going to the North side of town and gets his coffee with a random pastry to go. Otherwise, he heads to Blue Hill Diner for a proper breakfast and chats with the staff there or scrolls through his phone. He heads back to the convenient store if they need him, otherwise he heads home for a nap or just to relax. Most days he can trust his shift supervisors or the manager to finish up the rest of the day at Roberto’s. Only on occasion does he have to cover a shift or go in to change the cash register for a shift. 

By five or six in the evening, Axel crosses the threshold of St. Peters and takes a spot at the bar. If he feels like dinner, he gets something to eat. Otherwise he has a few drinks to pass the time and watches the environment. If he’s lucky, he catches something that isn’t supposed to be happening in Redridge without approval and brings it to a higher up. Otherwise, he wastes some time before Rogue’s opens and he can go watch the fights for the night. By the time it’s his turn to get in the ring, he’s usually itching to start fighting. He’s not one to get excited about much, but once he gets sight of his ‘opponent’ a wide shark-like smile will spread across his face. Axel loves the work he gets to do with Valencia and if he could do more he would. Fighting and getting rid of people was something he specialized in, he was damn good at it, too. If he was lucky, he brought someone home with him at the end of the night. If not, he has another drink and heads back to his house to watch something on the television or, if he’s even luckier, gets a few hours of sleep before he has to wake up and repeat it all the next day. 

“REMINISCENCE”:  violence tw, alcohol tw, blood tw, death tw

“Not everyone gets to just blurt out how the feel about whoever or whatever on a fuckin’ whim, dude.” Axel spoke into his glass, the third brandy making his voice hoarse. Stuck in the reverie that his best friend had pulled from him. That afternoon they’d gotten the news that his father was found dead in the showers that morning. He was out celebrating. That man had never done anything for anyone, nothing good at least and definitely not any of his kids. Axel looked at the brown liquid in his glass and swirled it around. “Remember back in high school, that kid Jake who used to hang around sometimes?” He asked, eyes still on the glass. “We used to mess around or whatever. I was young and stupid.” He shook his head, knowing at twenty-five he wasn’t exactly old but he was a lot older than he was then. “Anyways, it had been a few months and I started talkin’ a big game like I was the boss of my house. My papi didn’t give a shit what I did or who I was with and all that. We stopped at Roberto’s after school to get some snacks or whatever. You know, same shit different day.” Axel paused and let out a slow sigh. The alcohol was getting to his head and loosening his tongue to reveal shit he’d never talked about with anyone. Most people knew his father was a prick that was quick to correct his children with his hands rather than his words, but Axel didn’t ever make it seem like it bothered him. He sure as hell didn’t let on that he harbored a great fear of the man. “We were at the counter paying, right in front of my dad and Jake tried to lean in for a kiss or somethin’ to say thank you or some shit. I just freaked out, I didn’t know what to do because that shit wasn’t goin’ to fly with Roberto Martinez. Not one of his kids. So, I pushed him away and beat his ass bloody right there for all the world to see.” He didn’t want his dad to do it and if he thought for a second that Axel was into guys he would probably shoot him on the spot. Definitely would have gotten rid of him in one way or the other. Even if he still liked girls, too. “My brother had to pull me off of him. I was so fuckin’ scared man, I just kept hittin’ him. He had to go to the hospital and his parents didn’t even press charges, they straight pulled him out of school. I never even saw him again.” Axel finished off his glass and exhaled the burn it left in his throat and chest. “Out of all the people I’ve beat in my lifetime, all the shit I’ve done, man. That’s the only one I regret. But you know the sad part?” He let out a bitter laugh. “If I could go back and do it over, I’d still beat his ass. What the fuck does that say about me?” Axel shut up after that, didn’t even really pay attention to what his friend had to say about any of it. He drowned himself in a bottle and had no idea how he got home at the end of the night. 

BACKGROUND. ( abuse tw, death tw, violence tw)

Born and raised in Redridge, oldest of six children. Some of his siblings still live in Redridge, others have left and spread around the country. He has a large extended family. They live all over the country, Mexico, and South America.

His father was a very strict man and ran his household with an iron fist. He believed his children should be seen and not heard. If one of them were to step out of line, show defiance, or generally make him angry in any way, he normally responded by correcting them physically instead of with words. He owned Roberto’s, which he started before Axel was born. Roberto was also a member of Valencia working up from street rat to lieutenant. He was arrested when Axel was twenty and died in prison when he was twenty-five.

Antonia, his mother, was a reserved woman. She was hard-working and loved her children. However, she listened to her husband and he was the head of the household. When Roberto went to prison, Axel took over the role of head of the household. His mother fell ill in his late twenties and currently lives in an assisted living facility in Redridge. Axel visits her regularly.

As for his siblings, he keeps up with all of them. One attends the community college and he is adamant that they keep up with their grades and continue their education. He keeps in almost daily touch with each and every one of them and adores his nieces and nephews. Whenever he can visit, he makes a point to but hates to fly so it is usually only once or twice a year at most for those who live outside of Nevada. 

School wasn’t Axel’s strong suit. He could never focus and everything just made him feel like he was stupid when he knew he wasn’t stupid. He just wasn’t book smart. So he dropped out right before eleventh grade and worked at Roberto’s. As soon as he was able to, he joined Valencia as a street rat and moved up the ranks to Bone-breaker once he had proven himself. However, he enjoys doing soldier work still so he will pick up any spare jobs if they are available.

As far as romance goes, Axel has never been with anyone long. He enjoys both women and men and their company, but he has a hard time letting anyone past his walls. The few times he has tried, he fucked it up in one way or another. So, he stays single and just holds casual relationships. 

He loves to fight and he is good at making people disappear, getting jobs done efficiently, and intimidation. Axel is very loyal to Valencia.

Currently, he is always on the move. He doesn’t like to be idle for long. So he is either doing work for Valencia or Roberto’s, moving around town, drinking at a bar, eating somewhere, fighting at Rogue’s, at the gym, watching fights, or sleeping in between any of those activities. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Friends With Benefits/One-night Stands (unlimited): He likes physical activity and touch, he tries to pick people up often and especially after a fight. This could have been happening for a long time or just a night or be brand new. 

Best Friend (0/1): This person knows him better than anyone. They just get him and is likely the only person he’s ever opened up to. 

Close Friends (0/6): These people know him better than most, but he probably has only opened up about one or two things to them. He trusts these people and likes to be around them.

Employees: Anyone who wants to work at Roberto’s

Budding Romance (0/1): could be a fwb that progresses, someone who’s always been around but neither of them made the move to advance it past anything.

Enemies: Self explanatory, but they always butt heads in one way or another. Possibly have fought in the past, but definitely never have anything nice to say about one another.

Past relationships (0/4): People who tried to break through his walls and didn’t get through. Or they just didn’t work out for any multitude of reasons.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kitmeowza/c-axel-martinez/