#there isn't a single spot of wasted space and that is SO hard to do without making things cluttered

[kpoperotics]

Chaeryeong forbidden love x male reader

You and Chaeryeong are in a secret relationship. Both of your families don't approve your love, and because of this it's a forbidden love.

You and her are in your bedroom, nothing is really different than usual, you are enjoying spending time together while your family isn't home.

You share a deep and strong emotional bond that links you two together in a relationship that shouldn't exist in someone's point of view..

You two don't have much time to spend in the indoor because of your family, and she's horny. She's very horny and she wants you, she craves to feel you.

"Honey" She says

"Yes?" You reply

"I want you.." She whispers in your ear while her hands are already roaming all over your body "I need you so bad.."

You can't resist her when she's so needy and craving for you like this, and added to the fact that you don't have much time, you decide to let yourself go and have this.

"Lie down Chaery" you say and so she does, she's lied down on your bed. She looks at you with an aroused gaze "Go ahead.." She says.

You take your space between her legs and just right away you lean your tongue on her folds and start licking her. She moans softly, letting her head fall back on the pillow, her hair all around her head.

She moans and runs her fingers in your hair as you pleasure her that way, you know how crazy it drives her when you lick her, when it's you to do so.

She's moaning loudly now, maybe liking a little too much the feeling of your tongue on her, but you don't stop and keep until she reaches her climax.

"I wanna hear you scream babe" you say. She just nods, her eyes closed now as she focus on you and the sensations you're giving her.

She moans louder and louder, until she's basically screaming for you. As you sense her orgasm coming, you push slightly your tongue into her pussy and keep going licking.

In only seconds when you do that, she cums. She cums hard, like she never did before. She lets out a breathless gasp while her body convulses and trembles hard in sync with her powerful orgasm.

"F-fuck you're too good at this.." She compliments you. You take it and smile at her.

Now, while she stays lied down just exactly as she was, you put some lube on your cock and lay on top of her. "You ready?"

"Yes, go for it" she answers.

You push in, and stars appear in Chaeryeong's eyes as soon as she feels you inside. She smiles and it fuels your passion, making you thrust deeper and faster.

You keep going inside her and gosh, she loves you for infinite reasons but surely one of these is your power to make her see the stars. You're moving harmoniously in her but not for this slowly, in fact your thrusts are fairly fast but very deep, each of them reaching the deepest spots.. The sweetest ones.

She bites her lips and closes her eyes, her mind fogged in the purest pleasure. You keep thrusting.

"Chaeryeong... where do I cu-" you don't have time to finish that she already answers you.

"I want you in my mouth tonight..." She craves that.

You keep thrusting for now, but you decided that you don't want to push your limits and take it off only when you're about to cum, you want a little bit of a blowjob, so you give some more thrust and then you take it off.

Without warning her that you were going to pull away, she gasps loudly, not expecting it. "come here" she says hungrily.

You lie down on the bed and she takes her space between your legs very quickly, not wasting a single second. She takes you in her mouth and sucks hard, you don't know how much she's been craving for you to cum for her. She takes more and more of your cock in her mouth.

"Cum for me" she begs "only for me... let me taste you"

You can't resist her like that when she's not giving you a blowjob. When she's giving you a blowjob it's just impossible for you to hold on.

Her blowjob is quick and brings a little bit more than half of your cock in her mouth, still won't renounce to make it hotter. She takes your balls in her hand and massages them. She takes her time and after a few seconds her mouth is on your balls as well, sucking on them just as good.

You can't hold on now. "Chaeryeong, in!"

Her eyes go wide and she takes as much as she can of you in her mouth, feeling you cumming in her mouth so hardly, all over her tongue. She holds in position, not moving of a millimeter, letting you cum everything you've got for her.

Once you're done cumming, she pulls away and shows you your cum in her mouth. An erotic game you both find extremely hot. Then, she swallows everything, not leaving a single drop in her mouth.

She leans in, gives a last kiss in your cock and then reaches for your hands to take them in hers and kissing you passionately.

...The rest of the evening will be a marathon of movies and a big portion of cuddles.

[ruins-and-rewritez]

He punches the walls until his knuckles split, until blood leaks out and gathers itself into the creases of his wrist. He watches in sickly fascination as it beads up from the wound and makes it way, a brave pioneer, down the pale skin of his arm.

He inhales deeply, waiting for that rush of nicotine to hit his bloodstream and offer him some relief. He pictures his lungs holding that pale whiff of smoke captive. His very cells dragging the microscopic tendrils of it toward themselves, gorging. He watches the pink tissue gray with abuse. He closes his eyes and sees his lungs turn to ash. He crumbles with them.

He leaves the Slat, long after dark, when the others are asleep. No on guard for the night ever questions, just simple nods of acknowledgement and spines straightened out of respect for their leader. He walks to the warehouse district, to where the fights are held among one of the many clapboard buildings. The crowd parts for him, or more likely, his reputation. No one heckles or taunts at him, save some more drunken members of the group. They let him in the ring. They watch him fight. His cane left behind and forgotten. He relishes in the fight, the blows that come relentlessly and the pain they bring. He gets knocked down over and over until his survival instinct snaps into place forcing his victory.

He lurches across the floor, his bad leg dead weight, his blood a thick sludge of alcohol. He shifts onto his bed, hyper-aware of the bottle dangling between his fingertips. Terrified of wasting a single precious drop of Fjerdan Rum. He hugs it close to his chest before tilting it to his mouth. It's easier to swallow than the black whiskey he had earlier. Maybe there will be peace at the bottom this time.

He twirls the knife with a near deadly precision, the action made difficult by the size of the grip. The handle was made for a more delicate hand than his own. It gleams in the lamplight, a blade of liquid silver. He fumbles, fingers losing their rhythm, and it embeds into his desktop. He plucks it out and tilts it admiringly before carefully bringing his thumb to the tip. He waits for the pain to come. He watches as a pearl of blood wells up, his only sign that the self-inflicted injury was a success. He stares at the mark he's made, waiting for the skin to scar over so he can do it again.

He wobbles on the brick of the roof's parapet, his mind unsteady, interfering with his sense of balance. The city looks so peaceful when it's all blurred lamplight and misty cobbles. He gazes out over the shingles and stone, looking for a figure that he knows isn't there. But that doesn't stop him. He wonders if it would all be easier if he just stepped forward to join her, hidden in the shadows, boundless and free over the buildings. If he could just lose this game, this war, between the pieces of himself, he might be able to let go long enough. How easy it would be to just break his lie this once.

He wakes, screaming, hands dark with blood. There is no noise in the action, its trapped and wild like his thoughts. He scrubs his hands against the blanket, to get it off, off, off. But it remains, stained by guilt and regret that can't be washed away with water or belief. And then he's stumbling, tripping over his own feet like they've grown four sizes in an effort to pull his gloves off the dresser. One, two, three, tries to get them on his shaking fingers, and cover his pain. The rush of his heart slows with each moment that passes. He presses his palm against the beat wondering if he presses hard enough if it will stop.

He watches the harbor, eyes glued to the spot where she would dock, if she'd had the chance. He glances at the rooftops that would be her domain whether or not she was there to dance across them. He looks for her shadow in the crowds, on the street, in the alleyways just past nightfall. His gaze lingers in all the spaces that she should occupy, all the spaces that are barren now, feeling the abscence of that loss in the hole where his heart should have been.

If it weren't for that last desperate promise between them, Kaz Brekker wouldn't feel this way, in fact, he wouldn't feel anything at all.

[evilminji]

Oh god, The Playground would be THE WORST. Like... viscerally. In that distinct "when you grow out of Barney The Dinosaur" sorta way?

It's THE single GREATEST place EVER... right up until you hate it. Never speak of that accursed place to me again, Mother. That is the land of BABIES! I? Am a GROWN UP.

I get the Vibe? That the Zone is leaking. Slowly and relentlessly into Amity. Like a massive ocean funneling into a tiny cup, yet somehow never spilling. They are getting? SO MUCH power? Drowning in it. Literally going from "I am comfortably wealthy in Ectoplasm" to "I am the first Ectoplasm zagajillionaire."

Like? Sure! Why NOT waste massive amounts of Ecto setting up all these new habitats! Ya'll HEATHENS keep popping by and taking pot shots at the king, so having my squishy babies NOT OUT IN THE STREETS is actually quite nice!

And at first? Everyone's like "oh yeah, the Amity's Hard To Find Thing! Been there for Aaaaaages! Oh? It developed into something MORE? .....meh. That tracks." And "well... at least the kids are entertained and not glued to their phones! Lots of exercise!"

But then? Well... the Arcade over on Stewart? Yeah, the out of business one. Folded when the owner died? Yeah, it's somehow both THERE and GONE. Inside is HUGE. Perfect for teens.

There are... a LOT of Weirdly Specific Places popping up? Like this one old grocery store. MILES of products. No, I do mean that literally. Yeah, Sandra bought this fancy Sri Lankan sauce there and like three baskets of fruit she had to look up.

And just? There are people in the streets. People living in the homes, going about their days... but Amity feels? Eerily EMPTY to outsiders? Like most of the population that SHOULD be there... isn't.

People appearing and disappearing throughout the day into what is basicly pockets of Space. A literal Ghost Town giving off the impression OF a Ghost Town. Yet? Things have never been better! The communities, never tighter.

You can literally plop your kiddo down at the park and have the PARK watch them for an hour or two! Complete with snacks and possible nap time! Countless SUPERVISED hang out spots? Places to explore your passions? It's great!

It would be so, SO horror movie. Because why would they tell YOU anything? You're just passing through. Mind your business. What're a cop? Lol

God the Playground would be SO Happy To See You~✨️✨️✨️ :D and I still it would set off an Adults fight or flight reflex. It doesn't do that for kids, mind you, that's condescension and kids don't like it. But The Playground is a SASSY and PETTY mofo that WILL kick you out!

You must be --- This! Short! Too! Play! BEGONE, Adulticus!

Having seen it several times... I Wonder (<.< )

Amity Lore has a protective barrier/timeout zone for Bad And Naughty invaders called The Suburbs.

Short little street. Nice-ish houses, fully stocked with food and electricity. Quiet. Alone...

*sweats in introvert*

O-Okay but listen. Here me out! *twitch*

Fffffuck capitalism, man! That sounds SOOTHING! Let me in! LET ME IIIIIIIN!!!

How do I convince the arguably sentient City I would like to go to The Quiet Street?

Is this a monumentally bad idea? Probably! NEVER give the sentient-non-human and Probably Eldritch city control of your life! It loves you but is incapable of understanding your human intricacies! I GET that!

....but it would be so soothing. My autistic ass would have to be DRAGGED out.

TEXTBOOK "jokes on you! I'm in to this shit!" Material. Endless, soothing, repetition broken only by what I create? No messes I have to keep track off? Don't have to keep track of paperwork or scheduling things?

If I can negotiate being able to come a go? I fuckin LIVE there now.

I'll just politely ask Amity to let the internet through. Keep MY corner or the repetitious hell barrier away from the part that has Dirty, Dirty Crimial Crime People's in it.

I haunt the walls now ( 👁 👁)

Hmmm? (👁 👁 )

Oh! HIIIII DAAAANNYYYYYYYY (👁 👁 )/ I haunt the walls now! Yeah, Amity says it's "rent" I just gotta stand on my front walk and Stare(tm) at The Feds when they drive in.

Yeah. In a bathrobe. Really creepy like. I think my bathrobes too nice. I need a really ratty one. Any tips? Gotta pull that real "horror movie" vibe, ya know?

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[yan-sideblog]

So, since I read your theory on the MDHM mc's ex boyfriend likely being an abusive asshole, it has given me absolute brain rot. So, imagine if the poor MC has a ton of facial scars no thanks to their ex? Accidental or not, I imagine it would only fuck with their mental state even more and having to hide it in any way they can. But can you imagine how Alan would react? Someone... had the absolute gall to hurt his doe eyes, that was infuriating enough. But to permanently scar them not just mentally but physically!? Ho boy, the ex's days would be numbered, dude.

Oh anon ex is gonna have a bad time no matter what. Each new thing Alan discovers is like adding fuel to a forest fire 🔥.

In these HCs Y/N shows Alan willingly but i am working on another piece where they're forced to due to a certain situation.

Alan wasn't exactly sure what to expect when they asked him to wait in their living room while they "took care of something".

Whatever it was it certainly made them nervous, if their wringing hands and refusal to meet his eyes was anything to go by.

Still he wasn't expecting the multiple scars across their beautiful face when they returned.

Granted they weren't giant or as noticeable as some of his but Alan could still tell they were there.

But the look in their eyes? Absolutely heartbreaking.

They looked absolutely terrified. Ready to bolt were it not for their legs rooting them to the spot with an unusual stiffness.

He didn't even need to ask where they got them as his blood began to boil all over again as he remembered what they told him.

About how their ex was more than just an asshole.

How he was a fucking monter who had the audacity to not only treat them like shit but actually lay hands on them.

How Alan promised to himself that the fucking waste of space would be six feet under as soon as he found him.

'Another reason why i hate people.' he thinks trying hard not to clench his fists.

'Don't wanna accidentally scare them off when they already look terrified.'.

After taking a moment to collect himself he staps twords them and slowly raises his hand to the side of their face in a silent question.

It takes them a minute before they timidly nod their head and he carefully cups the side of their face, his thumb lightly rubbing across a thin scar on their cheek.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you." they murmur casting their still wide eyes down "So i figured showing you would be best.".

"Do they make my face look bad?" the words nearly broke his heart all over again.

He tentatively cups their other cheek and raises their face to look him in the eyes.

"Doe eyes i want you to listen to me carefully." his words were soft but serious so they nodded their head.

"There isn't a single fraction of you that i don't find completely beautiful inside and out. Absolutely nothing will ever change that, least of all something done to you by some bastard." he ended the statement with a gentle kiss to their forehead.

When he pulled back his mouth was tilted in a wry smile "Besides in case you haven't noticed I've got a couple scars here and there to.".

His terrible joke managed to get a small chuckle out of them and he was glad.

Said chuckle turned into a surprised laugh as he began peppering their face in kisses.

Alan has enough sense to know that this is only the first step for them, and that they likely cover them up for reasons besides not liking the way they look.

Still he was proud and happy that they were comfortable enough with him to take this step.

[deviltoys]

— ‘𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗼𝘆.’

sakusa kiyoomi x top!male reader. (wc; 1.7k)

#a/n: lolol self-indulgent sakusa fic because i wanna breed him so bad. this is painfully horrible and short but hopefully enough to feed everyone for the time being!

warnings. NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DNI, blindfold, overstimulation, breeding k., frat!au, gangbang, dubcon turned con, belly bulge, cum inflation, no aftercare, manipulation, sex slavery, implied somnophila.

joining the most prominent fraternity on campus was the last thing on his mind. sakusa struggled immensly when it came to social interaction, he even took extra precautions to avoid having to exchange any dialogue between peers. especially a bunch of guild boys who could barely keep their heads attached to their shoulders; but atsumu had somehow convinced him to give it a shot.

according to the miya twin, he needed to push past this boundaries and explore his comfort threshold a little more. the perfect place to do just that? a frat house. who's more loud and rowdy than a couple of douchebag adults trying to assert their alpha-ness by hosting a copious amount of house parties.

as much as he beseeched and argued against it, the frat scene had him hook, line and sinker. and soon, the unbearable pull of charming guys passing around pamphlets for recruitment day had caught up to him.

the hall of residence was a lot more alluring that media would lead on. he was pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness and charm of the home; the parade of shirtless guys crowding around the hobby room only added a sense of authenticity to the whole ordeal.

after he was plucked into the roster of other men trying their hand at slipping a way into the frat life of their dreams. the initiation was on the horizon, and sakusa’s overwhelming social anxiety from the day prior came flooding right back into his system. he had forgotten the most important rule about a brotherhood, proving your worth and loyalty to your new family.

the two paths you could choose to go down were no bed of roses— the first opportunity was to streak and sprint down the length of the campus yard. or a play special game, in which your fellow brothers would surprise you with.

no way in hell would he sacrifice his dignity by stripping down bare and humiliating himself in front of the entire university. his education was on the line, he had a reputation to uphold; the only option was to partake in whatever the sorority had waiting for him.

that's where you came in, merely handing the dark-haired male a piece of cloth to don around his eyes. the last thing he could recall about his surroundings was the eeriely warm yet sadistic expression you gave him— his vision melting into a blur of black when the blindfold made contact his skin.

“just find a place to sit on one of the couches, my brothers’ll be with you soon.” your tone was low and gravely, the remainder of his senses were heightened due to his loss of vision. his ears exploding with your voice and your voice only, he felt the flesh on his cheeks bleed from pink to red; praying you wouldn't notice his shift in attitude.

“ye- yeah.. okay, thanks.”

your footsteps faded into the backdrop, signalling him to begin his search for the couch. he'd rather die than have you watch him scramble around the room like a headless chicken. he stumbled around a little, as predicted— bumping into furniture here and there before his hips knocked into a pool table frequently used for beer pong.

his hands feel around the object in an attempt to slip past it, amongst all the chaos he's experiencing he's dimly aware of the presence of a group of people. the scuffling of shoes against the hardwood floors only solidify his suspicions, but before he's able to call out to you; or anyone. heavy pressure is placed atop his shoulder blades— the curve of hips lace into the divit of his ass until he's pressed against the table.

the silence drifting around the open space between your bodies isn't broken, nobody dare mumbles a sound. your broad palms slink up the underside of his shirt, keeping a painfully slow pace up his chest until your fingers pinch the first nipple they come in contact with. your free hand snakes around his hip and dips into the hem of his jeans before making it's way into the waistband of his boxers.

his body shudders desperately, thighs bucking forward as your fist pumps around the length of his twitching cock. by the time he can gasp out a flurry of winces, two fingers that weren't there previously, poke and prod around his rim. devilishly forcing his walls to mold around them and shape room for a few more.

both of your hands now find a home around his hips. your groin, which is positioned at his rear, ruts the outline of your erect bulge against his ass— plowing the multitude of fingers already planted inside of him, deeper. this only entails that the fingers now wrapped around his cock, teasing his chest, and sinking into the depths of his rectum all belong to a different set of people.

he once more unclamps his jaw to sputter out more nonsense, only moaning once the warm, wet agitation of lips suck a dark mark into the curve of his collarbone. he's overcome with bliss, marveling in the way each frat member simultaneously toys with his sensitive body.

an abundance of hands fumble with his zipper, unbuckling the leather around his waist— unlooping the material before tossing it aside. you shove his pants down past his calves, releasing your grip on him so that you're able to abandon your own set of clothes. there's more rustling of clothes and clinking of belt buckles and your hands return to him once more, binding his arms and shoulders while gently bending him onto the table.

bracing for impact, he's pleasantly astonished when his chin and shoulders sink into something soft and pillowy. you were kind enough to replace the hard surface beneath him with one of the sofa cushions, strengthening his trust in you.

with his body now calm and relaxed with aura around the six of you, you take a few moments to prepare your cock to breed your good little fuck toy.

hot breath teases the meek, male’s ear; your monstrous cock pressing into puckered hole only making the lewd torture of the situation worse.

“miya told us you'd like to become our little breeder sakusa, we've had our eye on you for awhile. is this true? do you want us to pump your little womb full of our children?”

atsumu? he was the one who had him in this position, such a trusted friend making him seem special enough to catch the attention of these compassionate boys? maybe he was born to be a slave for cock. atsumu wouldn't lie to him, would he?

oh poor kiyoomi, if only he saw right through that twisted facade.

you growl into the shell of his ear, he figures that you're the one who's bending over his back; threatening to breach his fertile hole. being the head of the frat, you got first dibs on all the fresh meat brought in, it's sad you'd have to share this one with your brothers.

there's nothing sakusa has to resist with, he whimpers out a few noises before you're rewarded with a barade of nods. a rise of chuckles and quiet exclamations from the group feed through his brain— apparently all of your peers are patiently waiting for their own couple of minutes with him. silent vulgarites phase past your teeth as you impatiently card a hand through his thick curls. plunging into the boy with one fluid motion, your cock vanishes from sight, disappearing inside of his stomach.

his ebony iris’ screw shut behind the blindfold. you can feel the way his womb parts just for your cock, the slimey g-spot of his is completely ignored as you push past it; the fat head of your cock mercilessly drilling into his belly. your cock is on full display, the layers of flesh seperating you from the outside world bend and jiggle around the outline of your shaft.

“i sure do hope you have enough room for all of our cum in there.” your thrusts don't falter, not daring to give his poor, ruined prostate a breather. “because we're not stopping until every single one of us has had a chance to knock you up!”

with those final words rolling off your tongue, your hips snapped long and harsh strokes into his twitching hole— cum bursting at the seams of your slit, balls tightening and enlarging as the pent up pleasure and lust readied the fat sacks for release. sakusa feels his tummy bloom with the first batch of warmth, sticky ropes of seed shoot right inside. perfectly filling him up in preparation for the next cock eager to breed his tight ass!

so wonderful, his womb feels so full and claimed! a bright and hot flush pools across his face; without warning the next cock sinks even deeper than the last. more of the groups genes passing through him, mating the frat’s new bitch over and over again. he's hit by a wave of orgasms after the second brother slams himself nice and deep, pumping his seed inside him once more. his asshole greedily opening and closing to filter as much thick cum as humanly possible into his intestines. before he's able to come to his senses, he's already chubby with semen; happily inviting the next member to come and breed his stupid body.

the entire night is flooded with sounds of hiccuping, skin on skin contact, and the leaking of cum being deposited right back into sakusa. the incredible feeling of his frat brothers groping and touching him up have him cumming time after time— all night he's shuddering as another orgasm passes through his frame.

once he's positively gushing with cum and reduced to nothing but an overstimulated puddle of arousal— you scoop up his limp, bloated body, collecting the rest of your buddies before carrying him to his very own dorm. labeling his room, the ‘breeding room’. the sorority didn't let him waste a dime of time rejuvenating his body with sleep. they didn't want their new play thing to go to waste; he was awoken multiple times during the wee hours of the night. cock fitted tightly between his lavish cheeks.

he was certainly going to love it here, nothing but a obedient puppet.

[hoonhrt]

EMBRASSE-MOI

: pairing — student! jay x tutor! reader

: genre — fluff, crack 

: song recc. — L’amour by Miel De Montagne 

: a/n — this lowkey sucks but I've been wanting to get work out so I'm sorry if this isn't the best :(( also I'm still learning french so if some of it is wrong pls lmk so i can fix it!! 

Jay was your school’s resident bad boy. blond hair, all-black outfits, cuts class and yells at kids that look his way. you know? the usual. You on the other hand were the complete opposite. straight-A student. A quiet kid who didn’t dare look the ways of Jay Park and his Clique™. So imagine the shock that was felt when the boy you avoided at all costs, walks up to you in the middle of the cafeteria asking for French lessons. 

“You want me to do what?” He rolls his eyes, tired of this conversation already. 

“Can you not hear? I’m failing French and I need to pass or else my parents won’t let me move to France.” He speaks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And you’re asking me why?” He rolls his eyes again for what felt like the 100th time. You’re just confused about how he even knows of your existence.

“Listen, all I know that you’re in my French class and that you pay attention, I’ll even pay you I just need to get my mark up.” You perk up to the sound of money. You don’t really need but it’s still nice to have some. Doing this will get you good Karma right? 

“Fine. Meet me at the library every Monday and Wednesday after class, got it?” Jay stares at you with annoyance. He really does not want to be wasting his senior year on stupid lessons but, here we are. He reluctantly agrees and watches you walk away, struggling to hold your books in your arms. He turns around and lets out a deep sigh, wondering if the hot chicks and fancy baguettes in France are really worth this

Minutes turned into hours as you waited for Jay to show up. You waited patiently for hours just for this kid to not show up. Annoyed, you start to pack up your books. You don’t know why you’d think someone like Jay would actually show up to a voluntary tutor session. You were just about to make your way out of the library when you see someone running towards you almost like the flash. As the figure got closer to your still body, you realize it was Jay. Now, bent over in front of you gasping for air with his tongue out like a dog. You stared at his limped-over figure with confusion and slight disgust. 

“s-s-sorry i was… late, i f-forgot about… this.” he manages to speak out with the little air he has in him. He stands up and evens out his breath. 

“what makes you think i’m gonna tutor you now? you wasted my time Park, i have a life too you know.” you snap at him. He stares at you for a brief second before letting out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back and slapping his leg. He sees your serious expression, your eyes glaring at him like an eagle and awkwardly stops laughing. 

“Look, i’m paying you and this is only gonna last for a little while. i just need to pass, that’s it.” His eyes shine with a hopeful gleam, a look that is extremely rare to see from Jay Park. He looked a little cute. You dramatically sigh and start walking into the library, Jay following behind you. 

You settle at the table you sat at prior, re-opening your book bag to pull out your notes. He just watches you do that, not making an effort to even bring out a pencil. 

“Okay, so how much french do you even know?” 

He stares into space, a little hesitant to continue. “Um, i can ask if i can go to the bathroom?” You stare at him with disbelief. You’ve been in this class with him for months and that’s all he knows. 

“THAT’S IT?” 

“Oh and i can say good morning!” you let out a loud groan that catches the attention of others around, causing them to loudly shush at you. Feeling annoyed again, you contemplate if the money was really worth it. You sigh out and start looking for your notes from the beginning of the semester. This was gonna take a LONG time. 

“... and that’s how you conjugate verbs in the past tense, aka passé composé!” You finish off the session with joy. Jay on the other hand has gone completely blank, not remembering a single word you just told him. He stares down at his notes, then at you, then back down at his notes. You can see the struggle on his face and he hasn’t said a word yet. 

“I’m never gonna pass french. This is it. I can kiss France goodbye.” he claims with despair. This already too hard for him and he barely has learned anything. He sets his head on the table and mumbles to himself about how he will never be happy if he doesn’t live his youthful 20’s in France. You sat across from him irritated with his discouraging behaviour and a little sad that you weren’t able to teach him well. Until you come up with a plan that might help him improve much quicker.  

“What if… we hang out this weekend? We can do something and we’ll only speak in French! Of course I’ll help you and all that. But like, maybe? Only if you want to of course you probably don’t wanna spend your weekend with me i dont know you know its just a plan.” you ramble on and on without stopping and Jay simply just watches you. He smirks a little before nodding. 

“How about you put your number in my phone and then I’ll text you when I’m free hm?” he slides his phone across the table towards you and eyes you typing it in. He catches a glimpse of your rose-coloured cheeks and smirks a little more. 

“Okay, uh there’s my number! Just um, text me you know, when you’re free!” you manage to stutter out. Jay just nods at you and again, watches you walk away. This time a slight smile across his face. 

A sudden notification pulls you away from your thoughts. An unknown number that you had a feeling belonged to a particular boy you didn’t think would actually text you. 

042-002-1130: bonjour 

042-002-1130: was that even right

042-002-1130: anyways I’m free on saturday if you wanna hang ig 

042-002-1130: samedi is saturday right 

042-002-1130: it is wow im such a genius 

You let out a snort at his cocky behaviour and reply back, letting him know that you were free yourself and to meet you at the school grounds at 2 pm. 

Saturday shows up as you wait outside the school gates, a picnic basket in hand. An all-black car with dark tinted windows zooms up to you. The window is pulled down and alas, the handsome boy sits in the driver’s seat, ushering you to get into the car with his hand. 

“Woah a picnic basket? Listen y/n you’re cool and all but this isn’t a date,” he speaks and notices you roll your eyes. A smug smile tugging his lips. 

“No you asshole, I have a plan with this.” 

“Tell me,” Jay begins to drive away from the school. The destination is unknown to you but extremely familiar to the boy next to you. 

“In here there is a bunch of food, in order for you to eat, you’re gonna have to say the name of the food in french.” He turns his head to see you looking back at him, a sweet smile places on your face. Jay has always known of you. You sat in the back of the classroom, handed in all your work on time and never skipped a class. You had very few friends and always seemed to be lost in a dream world when you weren’t working. Jay had never been able to speak to you personally as you always avoided him but know he has the chance to actually talk to you, and he doesn’t wanna mess it up. 

The car stopped at the edge of a giant grassy field. The greenery going miles ahead. Trees surrounding the two of you. Jay like a gentleman runs out of the car to open the door for you. You blush at his actions, thanking him silently by smiling at him. 

He directs you to a small spot under a tree. You lay out a blanket for you to sit on while Jay leans up against the tree. You tell him to sit down next to you as you bring out all the little snacks to share with him. He thinks that he could get used to this. 

“D’accord, commençons! Qu'est-ce que ç'est?” (okay, lets start! What is this?) 

You pick up a grape. He thinks for a little bit before answering. “Un raisin.” (a grape) You clap with glee and hand him over the grape. A silence falls between you both, unaware of how to keep going. He picks up a strawberry and brings it to your face. “Tu aime les fraises?” (do you like strawberries?) You eye him for a second, for someone who said he only knows how to ask how to go the bathroom in french, he knows quite a bit. You nod a little, opening your mouth and letting him feed you the sweet fruit. Your face matches the colour of the strawberry and he giggles. You pull out a sandwich and ask him to describe what’s in it. 

“Dans le sandwich, il y a du jambon, du beurre, et de la tomate.” (in the sandwich there is some ham, some butter, and some tomato.) He speaks confidently. 

“Trés bien Jay! Tu es bon en parler francias!” (very good Jay! You are really good at speaking French!) 

“Merci, mon Cheri.” (Thank you, my dear.) you blush even more before and shy away from Jay’s gaze. Jay being the very bold guy that he is, placing his hand underneath your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. You both just stare at each other as the sun sets behind you. Was Jay always this beautiful? His eyes scan over your face seeking for any discomfort, none is to be found. So he makes the move and starts to lean in. You already have your eyes closed and lips puckered out, ready to embrace a feeling you’ve never felt before.

His breath fans over your lips and just before he kisses you he asks “je peux t’embrasser? (can I kiss you?) you eagerly nod and whisper out “embrasse-moi.” (kiss me.) Jay finally places his lips on yours and everything feels right. Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. You stay in this position with him for a little while before you pull back for air. Both his hands cradle your face, his thumb rubbing across the apples of your cheeks.

“I still have a lot to learn y’know?” Jay breaks the silence. You laugh out loud, falling into his lap. 

“Same time next week then yeah?” He lets out a ‘hmm’ and watches you rest your head against his thigh, playing with the ends of your hair. ‘Maybe France could wait a little’ he thought. 

[jediken0bi]

Home

Summary:

After a rough case Spencer knows exactly what he needs to feel okay again. Or rather, who he needs

(no smut, pure fluff)

word count: 1747

-

On days like today, the only thing Spencer wants to do is be held by you. It took him some time to figure out that physical affection was something that could make him feel calm and content as opposed to the feeling of discomfort he used to experience every time someone invaded his personal space to go in for a hug or something of that sort. His best guess was that it's different with you because he loves you. Not like he loves Derek or JJ or any other member on his team, but in a way that feels all consuming sometimes.

He means that in the best way possible.

He fell in love with you almost as quickly as you fall asleep after a hard day in the shop. It overwhelmed him at first. He wasn't used to feeling with such intensity.

There was a time where Spencer believed he couldn't love and be loved in return. He didn't think he knew how. But you just walked into his life one day and before he realized it his heart had made the decision to love you.

He'd like to say that he doesn't remember what life used to be like without your constant reminders that you fell in love with him because of what he considers his quirks and not despite of them, or your cuddles that were usually followed by praise or words of encouragement, but the truth is he does remember.

He remembers how dull life felt before you. How lonely he was and how undeserving of love he felt all his life.

Sometimes he can't help but fear what would happen if you suddenly got tired of him.

But then he remembers the words you whisper to him ever so often when you feel him growing anxious:

"You're the brightest star in my galaxy, Spence"

It's cheesy and it's cliche but it soothes his soul like nothing else. Hearing you say those words makes him feel like he can finally let out that breath he's been holding all day long.

It's cheesy and it's cliche but it is perfect.

It's been a little over a week since you and Spencer have last seen each other. Sure, you've texted and called as often as your schedules let you and you even convinced him to facetime you once, but it just doesn't compare to actually being with each other.

The team had just wrapped up a horrible case involving young women. Without going into detail it's fair to say that Spencer couldn't wait to wrap his arms around you tight enough to ensure that you're here with him, that you're safe.

The Metro was late, delaying his arrival by approximately 20 minutes. While that's not enough time to raise concern for a lot of people Spencer knows better than to not let you know.

His job puts him at risk every day and you're not naive enough to believe that safety is a given for people in Spencers line of work.

He shoots you a quick text letting you know he'll be late and you reply with lots of exclamation points, emphasizing how excited you are to see him.

He can't help but smile to himself. He closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. He's struggling with letting the events of that recent case go.

The victims looked too much like you and it sometimes took Spencers focus away from what was right in front of him. He can't help but feel like he should've been quicker.

There's no doubt in his mind that you'll start questioning him as soon as you spot the distressed look on his face and you're going to want him to tell you what happened. And he will. Just maybe not tonight. You two agreed to have no secrets and the key to that is total transparency when it comes to what's on your mind.

He doesn't worry though. You never make him talk about work when he tells you he doesn't want to yet.

You don't push because you know that he'll tell you the next day once he is rested and convinced that both of you are safe.

Completely lost in his thoughts, he almost missed his stop. He managed to get off in time and from there it was only a 5 minute walk to your place.

Your Place.

These words are starting to taste bitter on Spencers tongue. He's been wanting to ask you to move in with him for weeks now but every time the opportunity presents itself he chickens out.

Part of him is so scared you're going to reject him and he's going to lose you.

Realistically speaking he knows that you value your time together as much as he does and he can't imagine you'd ever laugh at him or leave him for something like that but it's those pesky insecurities he's been trying to overcome that tell him that he can't really be sure.

He's confident though. Tonight is the night. As much as he doesn't mind going to your place to see you after cases, he can't shake the thoughts of him being able to come home to you. Thoughts of you waiting for him with open arms and a overall presence of love that will fills your shared apartment.

Before he can get too lost in his thoughts he knocks on your door and starts nervously shifting around on his feet.

It's not that he's afraid you're not happy to see him. Quite the opposite actually you've made sure he knows you've missed him just as much as he missed you. It's just that Spencer never really got used to being on the receiving end of such strong affection.

He loves it. God, he loves it so much but it still feels like it's too good to be true. His job makes him paranoid and as much as he wants to, he can't quite shake his anxieties about losing you just yet.

You open the door and he looks up with wide eyes.

There you are in your worn out Star Wars shirt with those adorable matching shorts practically beaming at him. You look so happy to see him. Because of him. His eyes immediately soften and he opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

"Spence!! You're back!"

Before he knows it you're already in his arms. Legs wrapped around his middle and arms around his neck squeezing him tightly before leaning back to press a firm kiss to his head.

He doesn't waste a single second. Wrapping his arms around you and pressing you closer to his chest. He lets out a breathy laugh.

"Hey there beautiful. I missed you so much"

You let out a small giggle before leaving the embrace to properly look at him. One of your hands goes to rest on his cheek while the other starts brushing through his messy hair.

You look at him with a wide smile.

"I can almost guarantee i missed you more, handsome. Now come in we haven't cuddled in over a week and i'm starting to feel very serious withdrawal symptoms!"

This time he lets out a proper laugh, nodding his head and taking your hands in his.

"Yeah i know a thing or two about that. We got a lot catching up to do then"

You only smile wider and drag him inside, promptly closing the door behind you.

"Indeed we do so go get changed. You must be uncomfortable in those clothes. You're in luck sir your pj's just got out of the dryer"

You push him towards the bedroom door and both of you laugh at the domestic scene at hand before Spencer stops, turns out and wraps one of his arms around your waist.

"Can i get a 'welcome home' first"

He looks at you with such love in his eyes you almost forget what you want to say.

"Hmm well technically you're not home yet"

You say teasingly knowing exactly what he is actually asking for. You're more than willing to give it to him considering it's all you could think about this past week and a half but you always did enjoy watching him squirm.

Spencer doesn't seem fazed by your comment. He looks a bit nervous but other than that he radiates a certain confidence you're finding incredibly attractive on him.

"You're here, aren't you? My home isn't a place. It's a person and that person is standing in front me right now"

You stare at him with shiny eyes. Despite what he may think, Spencer is actually quite the romantic. It's not unusual for him to compliment you out of nowhere. You're fairly confident you never experienced genuine love until you've met Spencer.

But this? This was so much more than a compliment. It's him wanting to make you understand just how committed he is to you. How much he loves you.

Not wanting to wait any longer you just grab him by the collar of his vest and press a firm kiss to his lips. You only hope that Spencer can feel the extent of your love through this kiss.

What starts out as a innocent way to proof that he is your home too quickly turns more heated when Spencer presses you closer to him.

His tongue asks for entrance and you grand it to him. You're completely lost in the feeling of Spencer and every second that passes you get more desperate to proof your love to him like he did by telling you you're his home.

Your hands start roaming through his hair before landing on the nape of his neck.

He lets out a soft sigh as you start playing with his curls. After some time the two of you are starting to slow down until it was only an exchange of little pecks and reassuring kisses to the forehead, nose or cheek.

Lips just millimeters apart you whisper: "You're my home, too, Spence"

He smiles and presses another soft kiss to your lips.

Not ready to break the embrace just yet, you hug him tight. He, obviously not wanting to let go of you either, starts rubbing small circles on the sides of your hips.

"Welcome home baby"

You whisper into his neck. Loud enough so he could hear it but not loud enough so it would break the quiet atmosphere around you two.

[hughiecampbelle]

You Remind Me Of My Own Unhappiness (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Thomas

Word Count: 1,587

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @death-of-a-mermaid @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theshelbyclan @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87 @babylooneytoonz @peakyxtommy @locke-writes @lucillethings @miahelen @valkyrie-2312

A/N: A lil writing before I start requested prompt fics, which are still open btw!!!! Ngl, I've had this is my head for a while, and it turned out better than I expected!!!!! I've been reading for my horror fiction class, so I guess this is kind of based off/inspired by all of it (lots of Poe, Jackson, King, etc.) so be warned my loveliest of loves!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: You knew too much for his comfort 💕

Gif Credit: @peakycillianblinders :)

FIC MASTERLIST PARTS 1 -> 3 / WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The earth is soft in your palms, loose as your dig away, your fingers aching amidst the clumps and rocks. The maggots fall one by one off the bone, disturbed in their everlasting feast. Fresh in his mind, an open wound he leaves exposed, to bleed, to breath, to eat him alive. Shallow, as expected. Careless in execution. Impatient, your husband always in such a hurry. Even with this. Handful by handful, muddied, the morning dew undisturbed even as nightfall came. Smelling faintly of a sweet memory, that of the first time you kissed. The raindrops coming between you. Pulling away with a laugh, in awe, at how his beauty compared to that of a rainy day. Your shoes sinking deep, your hands clutching his arms as he pulls you from the muck, letting the slightest hint of a smile slip. The noise of that day, the plops from the pond, the quiet, yet powerful, taps of the leaves, the shudder of branches and bones alike cold from the breeze, the soft of his voice, low, teasing of all the things he'd do when you were alone. Lost, but not forgotten.

It doesn't exist here. The silence is heavy, deadly, respectful. Something he is not. Early, before the sun has her chance to even set and paint the sky. The in between, the dark not as inky as you remember, the stars fading in, resting for their show ahead. A creature of habit, your husban. Every night, at the same time, no matter what. Day by day, you grow less and less, and this becomes an ever harder task than before. Time staking, your movements slow, weary, all knowing of the journey ahead. There is an ache of gratefulness, a nod to the thoughtfulness you assumed he was lacking in, though it could have come out of selfishness none of the less. Not far from home. A quiet walk, that of seclusion. A quick pace, a tight jaw, he could have made the journey in no time. Your body was not as forgiving

No wooden box. Not eternal flame. A sheet, dirty now, and spotted in red, tangled around you. Wet and cold. The same sheets you used to wash, scrubbing clean, that thick soap smell no longer. One more thing you'd miss, the newness of this dying as each minute ticked by. That excitement, that joy, that want for anything more fades as all things do, decomposing with the rest of you. It's become a duty, an obligation, to him, to your marriage, as all things had been, or would become.

There is no where else to go. Nothing more to do. A broken routine was a broken man. Fight it, resist, and you might find him in the tub again, his spine kissing the porcelain, neck bent, waiting to sink until he finds the bottom. You might find him in the bed you shared, eyes open, never crossing that split down the middle, always faced away from your side. You might find him out, at the bar, a job, surrounded, your presence striking him, bloodying his lip. He stares, his balance off, truly shaken to his core. You are a guest he does not share, a secret he locks in his closet, a beating heartbeat under his floorboards.

So, you give up fighting, as you had the last time, and accept this battle lost. Wave your white flag, shaking yourself free of the sheets, standing uneasily on your own rotting skeketon. Step by step, your toes tearing, soles wasting, the entirety of you threatening to cave, making your way home. Tendons frayed, splitting apart. Your flesh bloated, runny, what's left is chewed away. You can feel it all. Your teeth chatter by the openings that were your cheeks, the cold passing right through you, whistling through your open ribcage. Dreadfully exposed. All of it is heavy. With nothing to hold, to cling to, you're stitched together by a single thread. You pull forward with all your strength, choking back a scream. It wasn't pain, not anymore, your nervous system long gone, but the memory of it bursts through your open chest the way it had in that moment, before everything seeped away in a puddle beneath you, and the warmth of your body grew into icy cold.

Your hair is all but gone, just like your middle. Innards spilling into your clothes, filling out, everything once protected inside catching their first taste of freedom. You give up making yourself anymore presentable. You could pass for sickly, at your best, even tired in the beginning. The bags under your eyes gone now, eaten away, the green tint to your demeanor disappeared, leaving nothing but a rotting smell. There was no hiding this, hiding the time that's passed. The flies buzz, bugs crawl freely. It's much their home as yours. You click, a tune you suspect is music to his ears, but it only leaves an ache in your hollow chest. There isn't much left of you, there isn't much more time.

How long does he want to do this?

How much longer can you?

The light streams through the windows, a welcomed warmth. You missed it. You missed that comfort, that knowledge of a place being yours. All you had left to your name was a hole in the ground, weak and muddy. Even then, few knew it was yours at all. The back door, the one only homeowners used. You could see it, your skeletal hand resting weakly on the heavy door. A night like every other. Pressing your ear to the door, listening, as if the pull from his want, his need to see you, hadn't tugged you the whole way here. This act, so small, so innocent, had lead to consequences he could never take back.

Listening, waiting, your own breath no longer a distraction, your own heartbeat no longer drumming through your veins, interrupting every word. It was the only way. Banished, shunned, turned away. Though you wrote his name, you did not share blood, a defining trait he could not look past. The business, family business, turned you away. Complicit, docile, that's what he expected, what you tried to be. Yes, Love. No, Love. For your own protection, Love, as if it hadn't been the barrel of his gun pointed at your chest.

Not everything, but enough, your first mistake was making it known. Invading his world one word at a time, overstepping boundaries with a bit of advice. That was all it took. You realized too late, none of it you could ever take back. Pleading, wide eyed, you promised not to say anything more, to keep your distance between the job, but the damage was done. He changed before your eyes. Tight, rigid, masking himself, crawling back into his shell. He trusted you, he did, but not after that. A man like him could trust no one, not even the person he married. If you knew, who else did? Even the smallest detail could be dangerous. It could coolapse his entire empire. He didn't want to, insisting there was another way, but they agreed as long as you lived, knowing what you did, none of them were safe. A family by name, hardly by choice.

So, by their insistence, he pulled the trigger.

He dragged the body.

He dug a shallow grave.

He made an elaborate story, one of belief, of half-truths, and throw away lines about your solemn departure seeking a new life, abandoning your husband for something else, each of them chipping pieces and plots to the story, anything to help them sleep a little easier.

And here you sat, the hard wood of your dining room chairs puncturing your back. There are two plates, and two sets of silverware. A candle is lit between you. Not always, but tonight it seems he's been missing you more. A napkin sits on your lap, waiting, covering the mangled mass that used to be your lower half. He sits across from you, the space between you large enough to seat the entire family. Only two, though. Everyone else has left, gone, suspecting what it is Mr. Shelby is up to, wondering why they are let go more frequently, always at the exact same time. He musters up a smile, that of pain, with horror in his eyes, finally realizing just how cruel this has all been for you. You smile back, pieces of you ripping open, your lips uncurling, splitting in two, revealing a mouth empty of teeth.

Thomas speaks lightly of the day passed. The endless dread of paperwork, the faint gnaw that someone has been following him lately, a special nod to the advice he took from you that had been successful. No thank you, though. No admittance of grief or wrongdoing, no apology, not even a word of what you were really doing here. He couldn't let go, move on, he couldn't shake the guilt that woke you each night and put you to bed hours later. You were dead, killed by his own hand, had been for quite some time. Yet, every night after the murder you joined him. For dinner, for drinks, to sleep beside him in the bed you shared since your wedding day. Step by step, decaying in your time of rest, the same thought in your mind over and over, never letting it escape your lips, you knew better from the last time: when would he let you rest in peace?

[dreamsister81]

 Jeff and MI:

By age, you fit in the G.I.T generation, but you obviously are not one of them...

These facilities are a mystery to me. There they tell you only one thing: hurry up! This leads you nowhere, afterwards your own children run away from you. Through these trainings you get to know women, you get to know men, music is inoculated into people who have no feeling for it; then they can only scare other people or insult them...

I was in this terrible place too, by the way-G.I.T That was a complete waste of time, apart from the theoretical lessons and the friends that I had there. Otherwise: an absolute wrong decision.

How long have you studied there?

One year, the normal program. They give you tons of material, you have to absorb everything, you practice, you are tested and you go to the next course. An intensive support with development is simply not possible. I did so many things: theory, single string technique, jazz class, rock class, all sorts of genres. My friend John was teaching bass there, and he once said that there is not a single teacher at the institute who says to the students, "OK, you're learning all this stuff here now, you're learning how to entertain people and you're learning to learn. But do you even know that there is no one in the universe other than yourself who plays the music you play? " John left the school then. For me it was all a joke that cost me $ 3,900. People interested in music should take private lessons somewhere, start a band, do something with people who like them and have what it takes. These schools are a scene in their own right, a very small, secluded world-the music, on the other hand, is gigantic and open. If you don't notice it, you miss a lot of magic, pain, development...(thinks) and rock! Apart from Paul Gilbert, there was no one there who really rocked. Session musicians are bred there; and at the end of the year you get a piece of paper that says, "Now you have the skills to become a professional musician." Well, congratulations! And then you look for jobs and play what other people want. But that's not all the music, there's something else isn't there? Where's the music coming from? From your own head or stomach, or the concepts of the people you work for?-Gitarre & Bass, October,  1995

.

.

.

I had a friend named John Humphrey. I went to this really crappy guitar school for a year, and he used to teach there, he was a bass teacher. And then he left, and we ended up being roommates later on, after I graduated. This is the kind of school where you give them a shitload of money in order to spend a year learning their curriculum.

What was it, G.I.T. (Guitar Institute of Technology in Los Angeles)?

Yeah, it was G.I.T.. They give you their curriculum, and it's not too comprehensive, but it's just enough, and then you can [snaps his fingers] move on to the next thing. And pretty soon you have all this shit inside you and then they give you this paper that says you have what it takes to be a professional musician.

It's a rock-oriented thing, isn't it?

In the end, I think, the only true product of that kind of learning is to get you gigs on the studio circuit and to get you gigs on the session guy circuit.

So, Lee Ritenour went there or something?

G.I.T. was started by Howard Roberts, the guy who played the wah-wah guitar on the theme to Shaft. And this other guy named Pat Hayes. I don't know. It just seemed like a racket, really. John said a lot of things to me that stuck in my mind. He said that there was nobody who stopped you, sat you in a room and said, okay, we have all these artists that you're learning the licks from, you have your guitar heroes, your virtuoso lust objects. But there's nobody who can make the kind of music you can make now except for you. And you can make it now. You don't even have to know how to go fast. And that makes all the sense to me in the world. It's also kind of an unseen process, that concept, originality. It's like that in all the education systems; there's never any real...identity education, self-generative identity art sort of thing, to be yourself. If everybody in Melbourne had a Wurlitzer organ and had the passion to sing something or make something, you'd have hundreds of thousands of different styles, if they were coming exactly from only their DNA, only their makeup, and their emotional percepts, their idea about what art is. You could have way-removed genres from what is already accepted, avante-garde country-rock-punk-folk-whatever. It's unlimited. But for some reason, the conventions always take over and there's a very ready and powerful formula to step into...

Those are the type of [formula-derived] players who can say, "Well, I was listening to the radio in 1967 and I heard the guitar solo in Jimi Hendrix's 'All Along the Watchtower,' and that guitar sound, that tone, would work perfectly for this television commercial."

Yeah. See? "Stealing from the greats, that's okay." That's right. Once I stopped in [at G.I.T.] years later, when I was on tour going through L.A., just to see what it was like. They've got a completely high-tech, multi-million dollar facility...

More so than when you had been there?

Way more. When I was there, it was just a ragtag bunch of teachers, and they had all left by then. They had video facilities and a class for stage moves and all kinds of things. And I saw this guy who was working the desk, the guy who watches the door. He had a bass on, and he was practicing his Nirvana chops! He was playing "In Bloom" on his bass, way up on his chest, jazz-fusion style, to the Nirvana song. I thought, oh shit--he was practicing his grunge riffs! He was getting his grunge down! Best fucking thing you can do, if you have the interest, is go to a private teacher, go someplace, some college, and learn theory. That was something I really enjoyed, actually, something that wasn't totally pointless. Theory meaning the meaning of the musical nomenclature. I was attracted to really interesting harmonies, stuff that I would hear in Ravel, Ellington, Bartok.-Double Take, February 29, 1996

.

.

.

Once the site of a seakeasy and a bra factory, the 30,000-square-foot quarters were now the home of Musicians Institute, a vocational school for anyone who considered himself or herself a serious musician. With its wooden desks and chipped-tile hallways, MI resembled any other urban school, but at those desks, student guitarists and drummers studied scales and power chords in hopes of becoming the next Eddie Van Halen or Neil Peart, the flashy drummer with Rush. On their way to class each morning, flaxen-haired guitar gods in training could be spotted holding their guitars and practicing licks as they walked down Hollywood Boulevard.

Jeff had heard about Musicians Institute (and its subdivision, the Guitar Institute of Technology) while in high school and told everyone it was his one and only destination. However, potential superstardom did not run cheap. The school charged $4,000 for its one year course, and by the time Jeff Graduated from Loara High School, Mary Guibert was beginning to fall on hard financial times as she went in and out of jobs. In need of money for herself and her two sons, she prematurely broke into a $20,000 fund earmarked for Jeff, but only after he tured nineteen. Once Mary proved to the courtsthat Jeff needed it for his education, he and Mary received it a year early. In a deep irony, the father Jeff had barely met and increasingly resented would be paying his son's way through music school.

On graduation night, September 15, 1985, at the Odyssey in Granada Hills in the San Fernando Valley, Jeff, Stoll, and Marryatt closed the ceremony by playing Weather Report's "Pearl On the Half Shell."-from Dream Brother

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.

.

With its 30-odd thousand feet of floor space and row upon row of "labs", where hopeful guitar heroes could jam with such shit-hot players as Scott Henderson, LA's Musician's Institute must have seemed like nirvana for someone like Jeff Buckley, trapped as he was behind the Orange Curtain. According to his buddy Chris Dowd, that's exactly why Buckley enrolled there, arriving just before autumn, 1984, bankrolled by $4,000 that Mary managed to squeeze from a Tim Buckley trust fund.

Originally known as the Guitar Institute, which in itself says plenty, the school was opened in 1977. Drawing on the educational philosophy of journeyman guitarist Howard Roberts, it was co-founded and managed by Los Angeles music businessman Pat Hicks, "a real shyster opportunist", in the words of Tom Chang, an expat Canadian who would become very tight with Jeff Buckley during their two years at the Institute. In 1978, thr Bass Institute was opened, followed by the Percussion Institute two years later. Desppite Hicks' questionable business ethics-amongst other things, he'd hire students as cheap labour to do essential maintenance work on the building, which led to Buckley being hired as an electrician's assistant soon after graduating-he did manage to persuade well regarded players and bands to lecture, and play alongside, the hopefuls who'd enrolled there.

What Buckley lacked up in "front" he clearly made up for in ambition. That was proved, in spades, by Buckley's graduation performance which was played out on September 15, 1985, at a venue called the Odyssey in Granada Hills. While the sonic crush and enviable chops of Rush and Led Zeppelin still rocked the world of this Orange County teen, Buckley had also developed a real taste for such "noodlers" as Weather Report.

The number chosen by Buckley for graduation was their "D Flat Waltz" (not "Pearl On The Half-Shell", as documented elsewhere, which they'd performed at a previous event), a typically complicated few minutes of Weather Report neo-fusion-a "really cool piece, very involved", according to Tom Chang-and a standout from their 1983 set Domino Theory. But Buckley, accompanied by Stoll on drums and Marryatt on bass, didn't just play the piece, he also wrote the individual parts out beforehand for the band.-from A Pure Drop

MI pics by me

[fatoomie2801]

his queen | kyoya tategami

💫 preview 💫

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The door slammed open, causing Kiara to jolt awake and look around cautiously, before placing her hand on her chest after she concluded that it was just Kyoya standing in the doorway. She diverted her attention to the clock on the wall opposite her. 7AM?!

"What's up with that, Kyoya?" she muttered tiredly, annoyance present in her voice.

"Wake up," he spoke sternly.

"It's 7am!" she yelled.

"And?" he retorted.

"Get out and let me sleep," she groaned, retreating under her covers.

"Today's your first day of training. Get your ass up or I'll leave without you," Kyoya warned before leaving, shutting the door with a loud bang in order to wake the sleepyhead. He's so annoying for no reason, she thought. I should annoy him too, sometime.

Kiara hopped out of bed to prepare herself for the day ahead of her. After getting ready, she climbed up the spiral staircase and met with Kyoya outside the mechanic shop. He began to walk in the direction that led to the marketplace, confusing the girl as he had not said a single word to her about where they were headed.

"Where are we going?" she asked, falling behind. "Kyoya? Kyoya!"

Not a word. The boy didn't answer so she had no choice but to simply follow him and go wherever he went. Although she could spot his spiky green hair from a mile away, it wasn't the easiest thing to keep up with him. Why does he walk so fast? she wondered, frustratedly. After passing through the busy marketplace, they arrived at the bridge by the river where she had told him about her ex and her brother. Why are we here?

She had paused momentarily to observe the glittering river she loved so much, taking in the tranquil environment around her, before she realised that Kyoya was nowhere to be seen.

"Ugh, where did he go?" she sighed, looking around for any sign of green hair.

"I'm right here," she heard his voice in the distance and looked to her right to see him leaning against a warehouse a few metres away from the other end of the bridge. "Stop staring at the river and hurry up." The girl turned away from the beautiful sight of the water and made her way to the boy, following him into the warehouse.

"What is this place?" she enquired. "Wait, wait, wait. Isn't this the Face Hunters' old hideout?"

"You know about that?" Kyoya asked, confused. "Ugh, Benkei," he sighed under his breath, realising how Kiara had come to find out about his embarrassing past.

"Oh yeah. He told me all about how you were supposed to be some scary gang leader but then you lost to Gingka and disbanded the gang. Haha. Pussy," the girl laughed.

"What did you call me?!" Kyoya glared daggers into Kiara's soul.

"P. U. S. S. Y. Pussy," she teased, unafraid.

"Right. I'm leaving," Kyoya spoke, turning to face the door.

"Listen, if you get to wake me up like that at 7 in the fucking morning, then I get to make fun of you for being some stupid gang leader!" she yelled at the boy who had now left the warehouse. Once she realised he wasn't coming back, she went after him. Looks like he can't take a joke, Kiara told herself. Oof.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm. He immediately retracted his arm and stared down at the girl.

"Don't touch me!" he warned, his finger pointed in her face.

"Alright, sorry," she apologised, raising her hands in defeat. "You're still gonna train me right? You're not pissed off or anything?"

"You're annoying. But I'll tolerate it just this once," he sighed, lowering his hand. This is a waste of my time, he thought. "Come," he instructed, walking back into the warehouse. "And don't try any funny business with me or I'll leave for real."

"Fine," she sulked, following him.

"Get your bey out," he ordered. Kiara took her bey out from her bey holder and attached it to her launcher. "You see that box?" he gestured to a large, brown wooden box that was placed in the centre of the large space. "Break it."

Kiara nodded, launching Cassiopeia. How hard can this be? she wondered. "Go now!" The bey made contact with the box, ramming itself against it but causing no damage before falling to the floor.

"Weak," Kyoya scoffed. Kiara glared at him. "Try again."

Cassiopeia was launched a second time, making contact with the box but still causing no damage. Kiara groaned, picking up her bey and attempting to break the box a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth time.

"Took me one attempt to do this," Kyoya uttered, his arms crossed as he leant against another box.

"You're joking," Kiara commented, looking in his direction. "There's no way that you managed to break it on your first try."

"Oh, believe me. I did." No I didn't, of course I didn't, Kyoya told himself. She's an idiot. But I'm sure this'll work.

Kiara groaned again in annoyance.

"I'm gonna go," the boy informed her, making his way out.

"Huh? Where are you going? Kyoya?"

"Don't get your undies in a twist. I'll be in one of the other warehouses."

Kyoya left Kiara on her own with the box. Well, if he can do it, then so can I, she thought. Kiara tried at the same task over and over again but made no progress. Okay, this is much harder than I thought. Upon closer inspection of the box, she noticed a small scratch. It might be small, but it's still a scratch.

The next few hours were, of course, spent trying to break the one wooden box. Kiara gave up trying as she now thought it was impossible to break it. Ugh, how come he was able to do it? That's not fair! She slumped on the floor in defeat and played around with her new bey, inspecting each and every nook and cranny until she got bored. She then lay on the floor and began singing songs in order to keep herself entertained while she waited for Kyoya to return.

Kyoya had left the area to get food once he became hungry. He himself had also been training in another warehouse, doing much more than breaking a single wooden box, which to him was a walk in the park. Once he made his way back, he paused by the river which shimmered in the pearly white light of the moon. Whilst he was enjoying the calm of the night, he heard the sound of a girl singing, her angelic voice echoing off of the walls in the warehouse, amplifying its beauty. Who is that? he wondered. Upon approaching the warehouse that Kiara was in, he heard the voice louder and clearer. That can't possibly be her singing, right? Kyoya stood outside the entrance of the warehouse, hiding himself so that he could listen to the rest of the song. Wow, she's got an amazing voice, I gotta give her that, he thought to himself. She seems to be done doing the thing I asked her to do. Let me check. He waited until she had stopped singing to walk in. Much to his dismay, the box remained standing just how it had been when he left.

"You still haven't managed to break it yet?" Kyoya deadpanned as he walked in, noticing Kiara lying on the floor like a child. I guess my plan of telling her I was successful on my first try didn't work, he thought.

"Stop scaring me!" Kiara yelled back, her hand placed on her chest as she had been startled by the boy's sudden appearance.

"Who's the pussy now, huh?" Kyoya mocked, earning a glare from the girl. "So you haven't broken the box. Disappointing."

"At least I scratched it!" she retorted, sitting up and pointing at the box.

"Ooo, a scratch? Let me see," Kyoya spoke mockingly as he walked towards the box to find the smallest scratch possible. "You call this a scratch?"

"Look, at least it's something," the girl huffed, crossing her arms. Kyoya picked up her bey from the floor and walked back towards her. "Get up."

"Help me up," Kiara muttered as she raised her arms in the air towards the boy. He simply looked at her with an eyebrow raised and arms crossed. "Argh, you're so useless," she whined, helping herself up. He placed the bey in her hand before walking to stand behind her, watching her as she repeatedly launched her bey at the box but still making no progress.

"Am I doing something wrong?" she asked, turning to face him.

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the rest of chapter 4 is available on wattpad:

[neoculturetechxgot7]

Gardenia on the crown - J.J.H.

2; Sun kissed gardens

pairing: Jung Jaehyun × Reader

genre: angst

length: around 2k words

warnings: profanity

``

The distance from the ballroom to the gardens is fairly short, having to cross only a few wide halls buzzing with the usual morning preparations as maids and servants swiftly moved around with hasty steps.

You're surprised to soon find yourself crossing a large patio paved with thick, grey gravel to reach what the king said to be the countryard, where a seemingly endless sea of green spread under the skyline. Without wasting a moment, you follow both elders as they begin making their way between big, voluminous bushes and blooming flowers covering each side of the stone path.

It seems to be more of a maze than a garden, its complicated spirals of greenery pushing you to the brim of dizziness, constant turns killing your sense of direction. At this point, it's a fact that you'd get lost if left alone in there.

The sky is clear and gifts you a generous supply of sun beams, which you presume to be nature's way of sympathizing with your new reality, trying to provide the slightest comfort. It's hard to enjoy even that though, with Jaehyun by your side. At least he makes sure to keep more than enough distance and you feel internally grateful for his understanding of personal space.

You steal a brief glance on your right where he strolls carelessly, hands in the pockets of his dress pants like a gentleman. Glaring far into the horizon, he seems to have retreated into his own thoughts which causes you to feel a little more relaxed, knowing he isn't intently watching your every move.

The sudden urge to run away almost overpowers you when his eyes, pink and purple lavender mirroring in their depths, lock with yours and embarrassment pierces through you so brutally. Once again, your cheeks probably get more blush than any rose in the entire palace as you quickly snap your head to the other side.

He literally just caught you staring.

But there is nothing wrong with that, right? He is your husband-to-be after all...

Thanfully, Jaehyun doesn't comment anything, only leaves a blanket of silence drape over you and the bold decision of looking at anything but him takes a good seat in the back of your head.

Thankfully, the plants around you can provide a great distraction as you get fascinated by their vivid colours and freshness, early dew still sliding off of velvety petals and leaves. They aren't as Iively as those back home nor is there as much variety, but still it remains a pretty sight.

What really catches your attention though are a few snowy white blooms emerging from a plush bush beside the path and your heart flutters, inevitably drawn to them. Ducking with golden satin pooling around your ankles, your fingers reach out to pluck one and the next moment you're burying your nose to deeply inhale in the beautiful scent that makes fairies dance on the crisp air.

You love it. That's why you can't bare to avert your gaze, instead standing over the plants as if you can somehow escape in their dreamy world, wiping tiny droplets from their surface to feel the coolness of morning.

"Gardenia." A voice comes from behind and you quickly realise it's Jaehyun, his heavy footsteps growing louder as he approached.

"I know." You reply, almost allowing a chuckle past your lips. "My mother adores them. She says it takes a lot of care for these to grow."

"We do take care of them here." There is a tone of pointing out the obvious lacing his words as he halts before the flowers and slowly leans to sniff one.

"You take care of them?" You ask with a finger pointing at him, genuinely curious to know if the prince of ice has a soft spot for gardening after all.

"No, of course not. Servants do." Jaehyun explains nonchalantly and, after looking back at the path, gestures for you to follow, since both your parents have already moved way ahead.

The hint of enthusiasm in your chest is quickly crashed by his answer and once again it feels so unbearably cold to be around him, an imaginary yet sturdy wall built between you two. He continues walking, completely ignoring the uneasiness being alone with him causes you.

You wish to rush to your father's side, hide under his wing and plea to stop the marriage, but your pride and unbending sense of responsibility leaves you simply scurrying to catch up.

You don't trade any other words as he continues pretending oblivion to your existence and you begin hating even the slightest idea of him, burning with desire for all of this mess to end.

♤

A torturous amount of time later, your heels are digging into the expensive burgundy carpet decorating a high staircase leading up to what the king said to be your royal chambers. You can't wait to go up these steps and sink in the peace and quiet of a well-made bed. Privacy and some time alone is all you need to put the tornado of incomprehensible thoughts racking your mind in order.

And while you're daydreaming about soft pillows and the chilling touch of cotton sheets, Jaehyun's father keeps on with his relentless ramble regarding the wedding, which, from what you understood, will be held under the next full moon, in about a month from now.

It then dawns on you how, truly, you have only 25 days before you allow that awful prince to slide a band of polished platinum on your ring finger and tie your lives together in eternity. Then, as the unwritten laws of the ancient proclaimed, you'd be inseparable.

Fuck all of this.

Screaming and shouting until the moon itself tears in half seems like a tempting option to let out the despair now nibbling at every inch of you skin. Hatred and so much fury boils in your bloodstream, especially after your gaze lands on your betrothed, who was eyeing you back, possibly with raw dislike.

You realize now that, really, you despise him.

He's standing just a step below, too close for your lungs to breathe freely but close enough for your nails to claw at his eyes and-

"...and the ceremony will take place at the palace, before the grand feast..." The hoarsennes of the king's voice scratches your ears almost cruelly.

You can't stand hearing whatever shit is coming out his mouth, already way past your breaking point. You can't take it anymore, you can't wait for him to finish that annoying monologue.

Your fingers start to tremble ever so slightly, golden rings clashing inaudibly against each other.

You don't want to hear anything else about that damned wedding, the upcoming end of life as you know it, and right now all you can think about is how to reach your room as soon as possible.

Then, a god-sent idea flashes before your conscious, dramatic yet somehow good, the distress in your eyes replaced by glimmering relief.

If this works, you'll be in the security of a spacious room within seconds, away from the overwhelming royals and their annoying chit-chat.

A soft gasp falls from your parted lips and a hand shot up to your forehead, knees bending slightly.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" Your dad's concern coated tone sends traces of guilt to crawl under your skin.

"Yes, I'm just feeling a little dizzy, father." You whine, sounding pathetic nonetheless, leaning towards his embrace for support.

"Do you need me to call the maids?"

Your inevitably gaze shoots to Jaehyun's father eyeing you, awaiting your answer.

"No, no, it's alright. I'd prefer to retreat from your company, though." You mentally cringe at the immerse politeness you're forced show when in reality all you long to say is a simple fuck off, all of you.

So your plan might be...really pitiful at its execution after all. You aren't sure if anyone will believe your pretentious groan of pain and the helpless tone, but even so, who can refuse a princess a such simple request?

"The sun. Its probably the heat that's caused this, my Lady." The unbothered king points out, without a single drop of regret in his voice for having you wander around the entire garden under the searing licks of sunshine.

And then, fingertips scorch a tight grasp around your wrist making you flinch, eyes darting daggers at Jaehyun who is taking a step forward to tower over you, blaze adorning his gaze.

"Are you sure you're alright, princess?" His other hand snakes its way around your waist so smoothly, fingers squeezing waves of newfound heat against your side.

You can burst any moment now and slap that pretty face of his that's now only a breath away as he pulls you ever so slightly towards his chest.

If you had a fake headache before, it's a certain fact that a real one is starting to pulse inside your head at right now.

"Guards!" The king loudly calls for the two men in light armor standing on either side of the base of the stairs and they hurry away from their positions to approach you. "Take her highness to her royal chambers immediately."

You'd be glad to be escorted by them, followed by the soft clatter of iron as you head for the comfort of your apartments, away from that stupid prince.

But apparently Jaehyun isn't about to allow that luxury, when he throws a sharp nod to stop them dead on their tracks.

"I got her."

No, no, no, no. Damnit, no.

You can barely contain your body's reaction to violently wiggle out of his grip and pick up your skirts to bolt away, not giving a shit about manners at this point. Being almost pressed flush with his body strangely drains you of energy and clouds your mind with a heavy daze, sensing his every warm inhale brush against your neck.

"Father, please continue without us."

You don't make it to hear what the others mumble -probably their farewells- as he spins you around, palm moving lower on the small of your back to support it, although it's really not necessary. If it weren't for his tight hold though, you would've fallen flat on your face after tripping on the first step, the clumsiness striking you yet again.

"Do you need me to carry you?" He leans to whisper in your ear, freezing you in place at the proximity and his spine-chilling touch.

You are somewhat disgusted. His concern is probably nothing more than sugar-coated pretence.

"No, I'm okay. I can do this alone." That's all you manage to blurt out, insides lit on ruby fire as you try to move away hopelessly.

Even so, his bony fingers don't loosen up. "There's only a few steps left."

His voice rings faintly, because everything around you except him seems to disintegrate into a blur and you melt painfully slow into his unwanted embrace. The erratic heartbeat thumping on your temples is louder than gunshots at this point, making you wonder if he can hear it so clearly too.

Jaehyun's scent of sandalwood and rosemary has a shaky breath hitch at your throat so painfully, overpowering all your senses in a feverish way.

You curse at your impatience, regretting not waiting for the king to end the annoying palace tour and bidding all three men goodbye to find your room all alone. Yes, that would've been perfect compared to the current situation.

Your whole body is tense, every muscle buzzing with electricity as you keep going up the staircase in the heated hands of your betrothed.

The devil holds you tight only to burn you tighter.

//

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 83)

"Snoozing Through Sayreville"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@lovemythsworld

@crystalbaby12

In Sam's room, Luna wastes no time. Popping two bars herself, she hands two to her friend. They've spent many early mornings like this. Coming back to homebase and rounding down from an AllNighter together.

Luna showers first. She feels like hot horse shit. Still catching trails in the bathroom, she washes the grit from last night off of her.

Leaning under the water, she wishes her skin could absorb it's hydration. They've only been on tour for 10 days but Luna's exhausted. Her body physically hurts, her brain feels like mush and she's emotionally wiped out. The constant fighting, traveling, drinking and drug use starting to take it's toll.

Once out of the shower, she tosses on panties, a tank and a hotel robe. Climbing into the queen sized bed, she rolls up a handful of joints as Sam showers.

Curling up together, Luna fires up a joint as Sam finds something for them to watch. Looking at her friend, she asks if She's Okay.

Exhaling out a cloud of smoke, Luna says "Yeah. I just need a hard reset." To Sam's nod of understanding.

Mrs. Doubtfire is own. It's one of their favorite movies. Getting high, laughing and enjoying each other's company. Luna's thankful for Sam's companionship as the two girls snuggle into bed. Quickly falling asleep. Knocking out for the rest of the day.

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

Colson does no such thing. Still pissed and now even more confused by Luna, he can't sleep. He's out of coke and doesn't know what to do with himself. Not thinking to grab any Xanax off of his bitchy girlfriend.

With everyone checked into their rooms, Colson heads back to The Bus. Cracking a beer at 9A instead of sleeping, he plays NBA2K19 until he passes out with the controller in his hands.

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Ashleigh finds him around 430P. Waking him up, he's miserable.

"Leave me the fuck alone. Unless it's 7P, don't fucking bother me." He grumbles, walking to the back of The Bus.

Dropping face first into the bed, all he smells is Luna. His dick twitches and heart hurts as he reaches his arm out, over her empty space.

"What the fuck are we doin', Loons..." He thinks, wishing she wasn't so stubborn and him not an Asshole. Wanting her next to him more than anything in this world.

For once his brain refuses to slide down the 16 million different hallways of Hotel Diablo. Falling back asleep as he holds a pillow. Pretending it's smell is Luna.

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

Ashleigh knocks on Sam's door next. Knowing its more likely for her than Sam, Luna gets up. Sam snoozing away.

She's groggy and unhappy but isn't nearly as intolerable as Colson. Probably because she believes in sleep. Greeting Ashleigh, Luna yawns, asking What Time Is It.

It's around 5-530P.

Stretching long, Luna motions Ashleigh to sit with her on the couch. Wrapped in a blanket, she lights a joint and asks her What's Up.

"Couple things...." Ashleigh begins. "You okay?" She asks to Luna's nod.

Luna takes a deep hit. Appreciating Ashleigh's concern.

Exhaling, she says "Yeah, I just need a minute to myself.... Sorry you got left with that nonsense last night." Luna apologizes as she hits the joint again.

Ashleigh grins. "You'd be proud of me. I'm pretty sure I got anyone who saw anything to sign a NDA. Even Bleta. I was gonna contact Monica on your behalf but wanted to talk to you first."

There's a lot of things said in that one sentence. It takes Luna's fuzzy mind a second to understand them all.

"OH WOW!! You did that for me?" She grins back at Ashleigh, touched by her actions. "Look at you go, Girl! Thank you!" Luna reaches to hug her friend.

That's when it hits her.

"Wait... What do you mean Bleta?" She asks as her whole facial expression changes.

Not realizing Luna doesn't know who BeBe Rexha is personally, she panics at her words.

"Yeah, Loons. That's who you hit last night..." She says cautiously.

"He had Bleta at the fucking show!?" The Ring of Fire is wild in Luna's eyes.

"No.. No.. No.. SHE told ME, he didn't know she was there until he seen her..." Ashleigh's trying not to make things worse.

Sighing before she hits the joint again. Luna shakes her head with a Whatever. Her and Ashleigh sit quietly for a moment.

"He didn't know, Loons." Ashleigh tries to comfort her.

"I know...." Luna closes her eyes as she exhales another cloud of smoke. "Fuck her. I'll call Mon and let her know what I did. She'll probably want the NDA's..." Luna looks at Ashleigh. "Thank you, Ash. Really. You didn't have to stick your neck out for me like that. It means a lot." Reaching to hug her again.

"It's no problem, Loons. You're family." She hugs her back, pulling away, she laughs. "Besides, I learned it from you."

This makes Luna smile. Hitting the last of the joint, she puts it out.

"Tell me about Diddy and Massachusetts." Luna says, changing the subject.

Ashleigh goes on to explain how it's seeming to be a domestic dispute. Some guy tossed a Moltav cocktail because his Ex was there with someone else.

"Fucking seriously?" Luna asks in disbielf.

Shaking her head, she reaches for another joint. Ashleigh noticing for the first time that Luna smokes just as much as Colson. If not more.

Luna goes on to ask about casualties. Ashleigh replying that about a hundred people received smoke inhalation. In a building with over 4K people in it, That's Amazing, they agree. Luna thinks for a minute as she hits the joint.

"All fans?" She asks to Ashleigh's nod. "You know what I'd do?" Luna exhales again.

"Nope, but I want to!" She replies, making them both laugh.

"Find out exactly who the victims are, collect enough merch and have him sign it. Along with a personalized Get Well note.." Luna says as she continues to hit the joint.

"How are you so fucking business savvy??" Ashleigh asks her in awe.

Smiling, Luna acknowledges how she has a collective village of teachers. From all different ranges and walks of life.

Finishing up, Luna walks Ashleigh to the door. She's gonna see what she can get started on with this merch idea.

"So, we won't see you tonight?" Ashleigh asks her.

"Nah... Probably not. I'm taking the day." Luna says as she hugs Ashleigh before shutting the door.

"Who's Bleta?" Sam groans from under the covers.

"She has so many freaking questions..." Luna thinks, rolling her eyes.

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

Colson's still frustrated before the show. Trying not to take his shit out on anyone else, he finds a cinderblock outside. With it resting on his thighs, he does backwards pushes ups off the seat of a chair.

"I can't believe she's not fucking coming..." He thinks to himself, irritated. He misses Luna and wants to stop fighting with her. "I gotta talk to her after the show.... I still wanna know why the Fuck she was with Tommy." He feels the jealousy rise again as he pumps his upper body off the edge of the chair.

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

Sam and Luna are sitting on the balcony of her room. Luna smoking a cigarette.

Trying to relax, enjoying the light air as she sketches. It's an interpretation of what she feels from last night.

Sam playing around on her phone. Falling down an internet wormhole as she lights a joint.

Once Ashleigh left, Luna and Sam had sat together talking about her and Colson and getting high. For the first time ever, Luna told someone other than Colson about Tommy. If Sam is going to form an opinion on Colson, Luna wants it to be based on all the facts. Sam was only slightly surprised at the news of Luna's affair. Looking back, certain things making sense to her about Luna at certain times that didn't before. They talked about Bleta and how Luna didn't realize it was her. Sam asking if it made any difference. Looking down, Luna had touched her homemade ring before stating No. She's not worried about any other girls. Especially THAT one.

"Oh Fuck, Loons... You're gonna be pissed...." Sam says handing Luna her phone.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

"MACHINE GUN KELLY AND GIRLFRIEND, THAT BROOKLYN BITCH TO BE WED AT RAPPER'S OHIO FESTIVAL IN AUGUST"

"Musician Machine Gunn Kelly, also known as MGK, is kicking his latest tour off with a bang! Last night in his girlfriend, That Brooklyn Bitch's hometown of NY, MGK surprised his fans after performing their hit single Bad Things together at the PlayStation Theatre. Revealing that he would be marrying the songstress this summer. Some considering this announcement shockingly quick. The couple have only been spotted together since late April. The New York native first appearing on The Dirt star's SnapStories and Instagram during his birthday party in LA. Surprisingly, that doesn't seem to be the biggest bang of the night. One source reporting that, the beef between That Brooklyn Bitch and BeBe Rexha is alive and well. The two Brooklyn residents having come for each other on the charts already, over what is assumed to be their relationships with the heavily tattooed, rapper turned actor. Reportedly, the fued spilled out into a scene BackStage after the concert last night. "It wasn't in BeBe's favor." The source from the performance stating."

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

"THIS. Is what I was talking about last night in the cab." Luna sighs. She hands Sam her phone. "I'm going back to bed."

Is almost eight o'clock at night.

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

Tonight, they're playing the Starland Ballroom in Sayreville, NJ.

For the most part, Colson can put his shit on the back burner and do his job. That's what he does tonight.

Letting Slim and Sex Drive hype the crowd, Colson stops being Colson, or Kells or even Dad. Becoming Machine Gun Kelly.

"WHAT'S GOOD, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!" He screams walking out on to the stage to his adoring fans.

Starting off with the normal formula of Habits, Breaking News 2 and El Diablo. Colson jumps, dances and kicks around the stage as him and The Band tear through Loco, GTS, and Wild Boy. Skipping Let You Go and Bad Things.

Trap Paris and The Break Up replace them. Followed by I'm Think I'm Okay, Hollywood Whore and Candy. Choosing to keep all the original lyrics.

Rook shines as always during Shout At The Devil. The crowd going wild for him.

They still have another eleven songs left to the set. MGK keeps pushing.

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

Luna wakes back up around 930P. Sam's up, diddling around. Missing Colson, Luna asks her if she wants to hit the show.

Grinning, Sam nods Yes.

Looking at the clock, they move fast and get dressed. Sam ordering an uber. Luna throwing on a back, lace crop top, cutoffs, Docs, and a flannel around her waist with blazing red lips.

Grabbing her leather and bag, Luna and Sam are out the door. Luna's golden hair loosley floating behind them as Sam's brunette locks weave along with it.

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

As the room cheers and lights explode around them, The Band continues on. See Through My Tears, Rap Devil, Till I Die, Golden God, Alpha Omega, and Lately come next.

With this leg's setlist pretty secure, they round out with Bad Motherfucker, Wake&Bake, Rehab, 27 and Sail.

The Band thinks they're done as Colson stands alone on stage with only his guitar. Everyone quiets as he begins to pick out unknown chords.

"I don't know if you guys'll know this but, I'm... You know what, Fuck it. I just wanna sing this shit right now." He says to the audience. Turning to The Band, he says "Imma do this on my own." To their confused nods.

He starts to play the base melody of a song he's been featured on. It's original tone is poppy with a lot of studio tech. To figure it out raw, OnStage alone, is pretty intimidating.

Colson takes his time. He's in no rush. Feeling like he's got it, he begins. Opening at the end of the chorus by The Vamps, Colson voice is deep and melodic. It carries a hint of vulnerability.

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

He closes his eyes as he thinks of Luna and where he wants to start.

🎶I don't go to church🎶

🎶Cuz your my religion🎶

🎶I'm hung on your words🎶

🎶Given' me something🎶

🎶To believe in🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

The feeling of the song is showcased against only his guitar and demeanour. He mixes and changes the lyrics to fit how he feelings. Voice crawling over the words.

🎶Kitten, I know you don't lie🎶

🎶When you say🎶

🎶That you mine🎶

🎶I can't look in those eyes🎶

🎶Without fallen'🎶

🎶A thousand times🎶

🎶Just wanna hear you testify🎶

🎶Kitten, tell me you don't lie🎶

🎶When you say🎶

🎶That you'll be mine🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

Wishing Luna was where she should be. Sitting next to him. His voice slightly breaking through the chorus.

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

His guitar humming his pain.

Thinking of how hollow his lyrics were when he wrote them, he kicks them out now. Thoughts drifting to their new meaning.

🎶I shut down for you//I go in//I dove in//And drown in you//They should be crowning you//Cuz//You're way to good to be true//Hold up, hold up//Ay//Please don't hesitate//Take me//While there's still something//Left to take//Kitty you're all that I crave//Tell me how many days//Do I have to chase you//Do I have to chase//Before you let me//Let me taste you//Before I can say//All I wanna say//To you//Is//I can't escape//I cannot escape from you🎶

Looking over SideStage, he sees her. Doing a double take. "Holy Fuck, she came." He can't help but feel his eyes begin to sting with tiny tears. That first cosmic boner appearing again.

🎶Kitten...You are way too good to be true🎶

He says as grins at her as they make eye contact.

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

🎶You way too good to be true🎶

Colson finishes serenading Luna to the crowds sweet Awws.

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

Colson and Luna head back to the hotel. Holding hands in the uber the whole ride. Grabbing her things from Sam's room, he guides her to theirs. They need to talk.

"Sit with me, please." She directs him, patting the bed.

Sitting next to her, he sighs. Colson knows Luna is about to rip into him. They've been fighting on and off over bullshit for the last few days. She turns to him, lacing her fingers in his. Always choosing her words wisely.

"I went to see Tommy yesterday because I own properties that he's invested in. It's something Monica ran between us for a long time until I seen him a couple weeks ago. Like I told you, he started texting me. I took being in The City as an opportunity to let him know that if things can't go back to strictly business, then there will be NO business...." Luna explains.

Colson's quiet for a moment. He wants to ask what she does for Tommy but Luna's a lot calmer then he had expected. He's pretty sure he knows the answer and doesn't wanna push fighting with her.

"As for Em..." Luna continues, she's hitting everything. "We were friends. And I say were because I'm pretty we're not anymore, which, it is what it is...." Luna looks Colson in his beautiful blue eyes. "I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about YOU.... Why are you still so hellbent that I'm out here doggen' you?" She asks.

Colson lays back on the bed. Sighing, he rubs his face. Luna lays next to him on her back. They stare at the ceiling together.

"I'm sorry about Bleta." He finally speaks. "I swear I didn't know she would be there. I should've told her to leave. I wasn't gonna do anything. I was jealous though and wanted to piss you off." He turns his head to look at her.

"I know...." Luna sighs, running her fingers through his blonde hair.

He rolls over to her, placing his arm around her waist. She can see remorse all over his face.

"I should've never shoved you either. I don't know what I was thinking..." He looks down with shame.

Colson doesn't believe in putting his hands on women. Never wanting to hurt Luna in any way. Especially physically.

"That was some dick shit..." She agrees as he looks up at her.

"I know... I'm fucked up. I just, sometimes I feel like you're gonna figure out that I'm not good enough for you..." He trails off, Luna watching his eyes well.

Luna pushes him onto his back as she climbs on top of him. Random blonde hairs dangling down and brushing his face. She kisses him sweetly on both cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, she reminds him how only his actions can make him lose her. He tells her, that's his biggest fear. Fucking shit up as usual.

"Bunny... We're both two fucked up souls living in a fish bowl... stuck on your counter in LA." She winks to his smirk. "We're always gonna be crazy. We're always gonna be jealous. It's because we're stupid in love with each other. I don't care that we fight. As long as we come back to this." She flicks her fingers between them.

Colson lifts up to run his hands alongside Luna's head, pulling her in for a kiss. His touch is electric. Making a flash of warmth run through her. She kisses him back as her hands roam down his body.

Taking each other's shirts off, Colson flips Luna onto her back. Kissing her all over her neck, she has on no bra. Moving down her chest, to her breasts and nipples, he slides a hand down Luna's shorts. Running his fingers along her bare pussy. Slowly dipping them inside of her to her moans.

"I missed you." He tells her as he sucks on her neck.

"Me too. So much." She agrees as she moves his mouth to hers.

Wiggling out of her shorts. He unbuttons and steps out of his. Gazing down at Luna's naked, tattooed body.

Climbing on top of her, he slowly guides himself inside her pussy. They rarely fuck missionary style. Letting the touch of each other consume them, Luna and Colson are delicate with each other. Another rarity.

"God, you feel so fucking good." He moans.

Taking slow, deep strokes inside of her. Luna's leg is wrapped around his waist, the other around his calf as she lifts her hips. Pulling him deeper into her.

Feeling close, their pace picks up. Kisses sloppier. Moans loader.

Gripping his skin as he kisses her mouth, Colson asks if she's ready. Luna pants out Yes as he places his hand on her throat.

Bucking hard against him, Luna's eyes roll back in her head as Colson slides into Home. Both of them cumming all over the other.

Breathing heavily, Colson lays on her chest, wrapping his himself around her tiny body. Happy to have her back in his bed and in his arms.

"I love you." He tells her, kissing her collarbone. She hums a satisfied Me Too.

Lifting off of her, he asks if Luna's hunger. Realizing she hasn't eaten all day, she responds with a Starving.

They order room service. Burgers, fries, pineapples and champagne.

Sipping on champagne after they've eaten. They snuggle up together. Enjoying the quiet moment away from the tour.

"I'm sorry I'm so fucked up." Colson turns to Luna apologizing again. He spins his finger around the top of his head like a halo. "Hotel Diablo..." He says.

"You should get that tatted on there." Luna laughs, slightly mocking him.

Eyes lighting up, he runs with it. "Yeah?" He asks.

Luna shrugs and asks "Why not?"

Nodding his head, the doors begin to unlock inside Hotel Diablo. Pulling her close for an amused kiss, he calls her a genius.

"An evil one." She laughs, kissing him back.

"Even better!" He beams while tickling her.

They spend the rest of the night in bed together. Getting high as they giggle. Making out as they watch Talladega Nights.

"She really is mine." Colson thinks as Luna lays on his chest. He can see his ring on her finger and feel his lock around her neck touching his skin. A wave of relief washes over him. Never being in love before and always feeling abandoned, Colson holds Luna a little tighter. He knows in his heart that she'd never willingly leave him without a fierce fight.

Colson sweetly makes love to Luna again before they fall asleep tangled in each other. Both relieved to be back with the other. Each hating when they're apart.

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

To be continued....

[fanficsrusz]

My Collection Part Five- John Wick series

A/n: part five it out and i think there might be one or two more parts left after this im not to sure.

Masterlist

_________________________________________

Slowly awakening, bright lights aggravated y/n's eyes as she tried to lift her hand to her head in an attempt to ease some of the pain that rumbled through her skull but something stopped her actions. ‘What?’ she mumbled to herself unable to understand what was happening. Her arms and legs were not responding as she wanted to them. Gradually she began to get her senses back as Images of john on top of her flooded her mind. She looked down at her form and saw that she was sitting in a chair, her arms bound to the chair armrest and panic set in. Her breathing quickened as she began to tug at the restraints, causing them to dig in and burn against her skin. Her attempts were trivial so she stopped closing her eyes trying to calm herself down. “ok.ok .” she comforted herself before opening her eyes again “get it together.” she began to look around the room she was in trying to see if she could piece together where she was or find a way out.

The room was small, dark grey cement walls were illuminated by a single light that hung overhead and a single door stood in the middle of the far wall. Newspaper snippets covered the wall to her left as well as a small window blocking out any sunlight leaking in. She squinted to see what the newspapers said but could only make out a few pictures of some people. But they weren't just any people, they were the girls who had been missing. Her blood pressure rose as she thought of the situation she was currently in. She knew she had to remain calm if she wanted to find a way out but it was hard. Moving to look at the wall to her right, she couldn't help but let out a cry. Knives, saws and various surgical instruments decorated the drab grey wall and y/n began to squirm in her seat again causing it to scrape against the floor as she tried to loosen the grip the ropes had on her. After what seemed like hours and felt like a waste of time, the ropes began to loosen. She laughed quietly in disbelief that something had actually happened and as a sign of happiness. She slowly was able to free a single hand before turning and untying the other. She tried to keep as quiet as possible as she fixed herself taking the chance to look around. As much as she wanted to run to the nearest police station, she needed to know the truth about John. Why had he taken the other girls? What did he do to them? Why did he take her? But most importantly, why take Tom? He was the anomaly. He didn't fit the pattern.  She walked over to various cupboard pulling them open only to reveal glasses of random liquids and empty boxes. Just as she was about to close the doors ready to move on, a brown wooden box on the top of the cabinet caught her eye. Reaching up on her toes she pulled the box down, revealing its contents. In the box were various I.D badges. One after the other she pulled them out examining each. Chris Webber: IT Technician. Steve Omen: janitor. Paul Roberts: doctor. All of the names and occupations were different but there was one thing that was the same through: John's picture was on each and every single one of the cards. "who is this man?" she thought to herself slowly closing the box and placing it back in its designated spot.

As much as she had tried to be quiet, Her previous struggles were not as quiet as she hoped as heavy footsteps broke the silence in the room. They were coming from the opposite side of the door. She looked around the room frantically trying to find somewhere to run or hide but there was no where she could turn. She didn't know what else to do as the footsteps got closer and soon the noise began to mimic the beating of her heart. She sat in the chair again, moving the ropes to cover her wrists in an attempt to look as if she was still tied down. She closed her eyes, hoping it would cause whoever was there  to think she was still unconscious and leave her alone for a little while longer.

The door swung open and john entered the room calmly carrying a bubbling bucket of unknown liquid. His hair was wild and it didn't match the formal clothes he wore: a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black trousers. He walked further into the room and y/n could sense his presence in front of her as he made his way over and crouched down, placing the bucket next to them. He grabbed her face roughly and y/n tried to hold in a whimper. “I know you’re awake” he growled and y/n knew the gig was up as she slowly opened her eyes and was met with johns powerful glare. She gulped and john snickered “there's my beautiful girl. Making so much noise” he stroked her face and she physically recoiled as if his touch burnt. He stood up and began to walk to a cabinet on the other side of the room pulling random items out of it and placed them on a small table.

“You won't get away with this. I figured you had something to do with tom and those girls within a few days of being here. The police will find me. they will figure it out as well” she cried using the small amount of courage she found in her to knock johns confidence and john just laughed wheeling the table over to her. He placed his hands over the top of hers as he leant down and closed the space between their faces. “It's funny. I've been doing this for years, going from town to town and yet i haven't been caught ” he laughed and stood up placing his hands on his hips “in fact you're the only one who has even become suspicious. Even the police are to thick to see the patterns and piece them together. Strange really isn't it “ he shrugged and turned his back on her beginning to make his way back to the cabinet before rustling around in it. She looked down at the table john had wheeled over and saw a small knife laid on it. Looking up to see John to occupied with whatever he was doing, she saw her chance. slowly she pulled her hand from the rope and grabbed it as quietly as possible and hid it under her arm as john continued to rant. “see the boy Tom, it's a shame really, he's a nice kid. But he was getting too close to you and he would have got in the way of my plan” he paused and turned to face her just as he was inserting a needle into a small jar of anesthetic. Her eyes widened at the sight but she pushed the fear down. “That's the one thing I can't figure out. What is your plan?” she stalled and he put the needle down on the side and he walked over sitting on the floor in front of her. He looked up at her as if he was a child telling his mum about his day. He was so excited “ you're the only one to ever ask me that. I knew you were special” he stated and looked into her eyes deeply before beginning his story “ when I was younger, my mother used to make these dolls and they were all so perfect. However, one day my father walked in on my mother with another man and he went insane  and bludgeoned her to death. I never saw her again. My father sat me down and told me that women are good for nothing, only cause pain and should only be used to look pretty and so i found a way to do that” he looked over to the bucket he had earlier and dragged it closer. “You see if i turn the women into dolls with wax then they will not be able to hurt me the same way my mother hurt my dad and their beauty will be preserved for years to come. They will become part of collection”. A tear slipped down y/n's face as john stood up and began to walk over to the anesthetic again. “Don't worry though, i need to do the embalming process first” he walked closer “I don't want the new member of my collection smelling now do i”. His smile was crazed and he was now Practically hovering over y/n needle in hand.

It was now or never as so she lunged at him with the knife driving it hard into his eye. “AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!” he screamed falling to the ground as blood pooled out of the wound. y/n ran out of the room and up some stairs. She entered the hallway and stopped momentarily trying to find an escape route, her adrenaline rushing through her veins and she saw a window. Running towards it she looked outside hoping to get the attention of someone passing by but there was no one. She didn't even recognise where she was as woods surrounded the house she was in. she tried to open the locked window but it didn't budge “NOOO” she screamed. she was in the middle of nowhere, no one would hear her. No one would find her. She bashed her elbow against the window to try and smash it but it only hurt her. “YOU LITTLE BITCH” John shouted, his deep voice sending shock waves through her and his heavy steps could be heard coming up the stairs. She looked back towards the basement seeing his shadow coming up the stairs before running of too find the front door. She ran to the end of the hallway and entered the living room where she saw the front door. Running towards it she tried the handle and it didn't open. “Nonononononono” she cried. There was no escape and so she made her way into one of the side rooms in an attempt to hide. She closed the door as quietly as possible and hoped the saying ‘you can run but you can't hide’ was completely wrong.

y/n pressed her back to the door for a second before she propped a chair under the handle so john couldn't get it. She finally looked at the room she was now hid in. At first it was dark but her eyes soon adjusted to the lack of light and she could make out a few pews and the silhouettes of people who occupied them. She waited for them to move but when there was nothing she slowly made her way over to one of the people sat there.

She closed her eyes as a floorboard squeaked under her foot and stopped to see if john had heard. After several seconds of silence she continued her examination. Getting closer she could see the people clearer, except they weren't people. They were dolls. Dolls of women. The dolls john had told her about. Skin smooth and perfect. She touched the face of the doll she was looking at and it cracked and a bit of the face fell off. She didn't know what she expected to see when she looked at the hole on the 'dolls' face, but she was met with the harsh reality of the situation she was in. Rotten skin laid underneath the spot where the wax previously was. Her hand covered her mouth to stifle her cries.

Stepping back she looked at the 'dolls' as they sat there lifelessly, and She realised she could identify a few of them as the missing girls from the news and the others must have been from other towns. This was going to be her fate if she didn't find a way out, all to satisfy the strange delusions of a psycho. She wanted to cry out but couldn't instead turning to walk further into the room hoping to find another exit.

Movement in the corner caught her eyes as she stopped dead in her tracks. Looking towards the dark corner she could see a dark shadow shifting on the floor before strange gurgling noises came from it. She looked round and picked up a large candlestick from the end of one of the pews as a makeshift weapon. She slowly made her way closer ready to defend herself. As she approached, it became clearer what or more like who was on the floor. She gasped and dropped the weapon to her feet rushing over to the shadow.

Tom was proped in the corner, blood and bruises covered his body. . "tom" she whispered placing a shaky hand onto his face as tears ran down her own face. He looked up at her and managed a weak smile, the boy was barely alive from the amount of blood he must have lost.  A huge blood stain on his shirt caught her attention and she looked closer: it was fresh blood. She slowly moved the stained shirt out of the way and y/n saw the extent of his wounds. A knife wound leaked blood and she knew he would need help soon or he was going to bleed out. She pushed as much pressure into the wound to stop the bleeding before looking into his eyes smiling at him. "hey tom. You're going to be ok" he coughed up blood and at that moment she knew there was not much she could do. "i…. I...im sorry i couldn't save you" he weakly pulled his hand up to hold her face "dont be stupid tom" her smile faulted as she felt guilt consume her. If she didn't talk to him, he would be perfectly fine and not bleeding out in some random house. "y/n….. i….. I lov-" tom was interrupted by the sound of john bashing on the door trying to break it down. "OPEN THE DOOR Y/N" john yelled through. Y/n leant down and tried to pick tom up but he pushed her away "just go hide" he barely whispered. she stood up and looked towards a cupboard on the other side of the room. She ran over and hid in it just as john burst through the door. She watched through a small hole in the door as John walked in looking between the pews trying to find her.

"y/n i dont know why you're running for. I will find you. It's your fate. You and all these other girls were broken dolls before I even got my hands on them. Lost souls that just needed guidance and a place in the world. I  gave them that place, a permanent place on my wall as perfect little dolls. You may not have seen it, but I saw how you felt lost. How you practically begged me with your pretty eyes. Begged me to put you in your place and here i am to deliver exactly that" john ranted as he continued to look around soon he was inches away from the door. She closed her eyes in an attempt to wake up from this nightmare and covered her mouth with her hand thinking her breathing was to loud.

Within seconds, John yanked the door open revealing y/n stood there " found you my little doll" he laughed darkly.

TBC

_________________________________________

A/N: dundundun. 😂😂😂 Just ask to be tagged

Tag list:

@softwhispers

@lushboy148

@dorinasfavs

@ghost-brocolli

@xanaphiavictoria

@constantinediamond

@cumberbatchbaps

@eleventhdoctorsangel

@greensadmoon

[glitchcrows]

Through the Heavens' Grand Plan [A GO Fic]

Okay. This fic I'm finally going to publish here? It.... it's been sitting inside a Google Doc for the better part of a month. I've fought with myself over the endless what-if's but now, I suppose it's time to let it be seen, to be read by any who want.

That said, I want to give thanks to a few people who gave me hope and the encouragement in the process: @single-man-tear, you get top billing for providing, nudging the ideas while I was on an exhausting road trip. @softangelofsoho, you beautiful, wonderful PDX Dandy, thank you for your support and dealing with me babbling. For to my @codename-nightmare-pet , you really have lit up my world when it's been so hard at times lately. I love you and am so grateful for you. Lastly and certainly NOT least, thank you to @drawlight .... Your support amidst me reading, devouring your own work really got me thinking that hey, maybe I can do this.

Thank you to each of you and thanks to the ineffable boys and their creators themselves for this.

-----

Through the Heavens' Grand Plan

The gramophone was old, almost a hundred, if not a bit more than that. It stayed hidden from the public view and more in the quiet confines of what would be considered to be the living quarters within the angel's business. Crowley enjoyed switching up the record choices or changed the album to fit his needs. One did not anticipate to hear Mama Cass singing "Don't Stop Me Now," but surprises often found themselves in the bookshop when Crowley wanted to be mischievous. 

Aziraphale tolerated it at best, but Crowley also knew there were records that he wasn't allowed to mess up. One in particular the demon knew fully well he wasn't EVER to temper with at any given time. Beethoven's 9th Symphony, 1947, Bruno Walter as the conductor. Beethoven was someone that Aziraphale had admired for ever so long, had possibly tried to even be a guardian angel towards.

Aziraphale pulled the record from its sleeve once afternoon when taking his extended lunch break and started the gramophone, moving the record to the fourth movement as he took a seat next to the device, sandwich in hand, tea in tow.

The strings came to life, the familiar musical strains plucking at his own heartstrings, the faint hiss of the old record there. Aziraphale began to eat his lunch, foot tapping in time with the masterpiece....

---

"Was die Mode streng geteilt;

Alle Menschen werden Brüder!"

(What convention strictly divided;

All people become brothers!)

-Winter 1822-

"Please, Crowley. This isn't me asking you to make Goethe popular. This is me, your...." A hesitation to say 'friend' there, considering their discussions with one another could continue to have raised eyebrows from both Heaven and Hell. Crowley gave an unamused look towards the hesitancy. "Say it, angel. Friends, unless you feel acquaintances wouldn't go amiss. My side wants him, you realise. He's the perfect one for the pits. He and Wolfgang would get along swimmingly." Aziraphale felt disgust by the insinuation, the idea of it all. Ludwig von Beethoven, in Hell. 

A small whimper.

"Please, Crowley. I.... I...." the angel stammered, Crowley's lips curling into a smirk. "Say it, angel. Say it." Aziraphale felt himself hesitating more but knew how much this was to him. Hell didn't deserve him, God knew that. "I'm begging you. Please. Please let me have him. You can have Brahms, Schubert, Schumann. Let me have Beethoven. Please..."

Crowley's smirk never left his face.

Anything for his angel.

---

"und der Cherub steht vor Gott..."

(And the cherub stands before God.)

---

-Spring 1823-

"Let me help him, your Majesty. Let me work with him. One last piece. One magnum opus. Let me be his guiding force. If....if you'll let me. I won't let you down."

The archangels watched Aziraphale standing in the heavenly courts. Uriel and Gabriel eyed him suspiciously about the idea of interference while Michael sat there, looking as though the idea wasn't completely a stupid waste. God contemplated long enough before giving a blessing, warning Aziraphale to keep a low profile, to do right.

"Thank you, Lord. I promise I won't let you down."

---

Ludwig was difficult, he soon learned. Old age and bitterness did not make for good work between the pair when he was annoyed, angry. That said, the pair were able to bond over fond thoughts of delicious schnitzel, apfelstrudel, sacher torte, often indulging in the sweets when they had made some progress. 

People had wondered who the incomer was, often having Ludwig shout that it wasn't any of their damn business, to be frank.

Yes, he was aging and dying, but Aziraphale refused to let him go without finishing. He recalled how well that had gone for the other side and the Requiem Mass for Mozart. 

"Herr Fell?" Beethoven had said between bites of their strudel purchase on a particularly long day. "Why me? Why pick me?" Aziraphale's fork hesitated to place another piece into his mouth. Oh, there were so many reasons, the angel knew, but he supposed the composer deserved a chance to be remembered for all time wasn't all a bad idea either. Grabbing a piece and an ink quill, he scribbled his response:

"Everyone deserves a second chance. Including you, Herr Beethoven."

Beethoven's eyes misted with wet tears.

---

"Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt?"

(Do you sense the creator, world?)

-May 1824-

Aziraphale sat where Ludwig wouldn't see him, opting to be practically invisible until he felt a hand to his shoulder. A small yelp was followed by a pointed look when it became apparent the tapper was Crowley. "Easy, angel. Who'd you think I was? The guillotine squad?" Aziraphale squinted. "Clever remark, honestly. Did you think that up on the spot?" came his snippy reply as Crowley took a seat next to him. "Testy, testy! Take it easy...." Aziraphale seemed unconvinced. "Really now, angel. I'm here to see how good this magnum opus is. Word is that it's going to blow minds."

Aziraphale gave a sigh.

"Uh... that it's going to be his crowning achievement," Crowley corrected. "Yes... I do believe you're right," he whispered as the lights dimmed and the symphony began. 

An angel and demon both found tears that night by the end of it all.

---

"Such' ihn über'm Sternenzelt!

Über Sternen muß er wohnen."

(Seek him above the starry canopy!

Above stars must He dwell.)

"Aziraphale? ..... Aziraphale!"

He was being shaken and soon was snapping back to the present by Crowley. The record scratched at the edge, giving indication that the number was over. "You've been crying. Is everything all right, angel?" he asked in genuine concern for his angel, friend. Az moved a hand and felt the wetness to his eyes. 

"Aziraphale? What in the bonny, bloody blue blazes- -" Crowley began to growl before taking note of what the record was. The demon blinked, realising that perhaps, in this moment, tenderness was warranted. "Oh, Aziraphale." The angel gently began nodding his head. "I....couldn't help myself. Would....would you like to hear it? With me?" 

Crowley gave a wistful smile, sitting on the empty space on the loveseat as Aziraphale started the section all over again, settling in the hold of his demon.

And again, many, many years later, an angel and his demon bonded over their love for Beethoven.

[junkcereals]

Junk Cereals: Most vital ranking of 19 Cheerios flavors

Cheerios is the biggest, most popular cereal brand. General Mills has marketed four varieties for multiple generations. More recently, more than 15 flavors have been released to give fans almost anything they want. Many are still on shelves, although Peach Cheerios recently left and Cheerios Protein Almond departed last year because General Mills faced a lawsuit because it had less protein than it claimed. Following is a ranking of Cheerios flavors. The large majority are good, which forced some tough choices.

19. Apple Cinnamon Cheerios

I may have eaten Apple Cinnamon Cheerios once as a child and wanting to believe it was good enough to eat again. But my mom knew better. Evidently, this has 12 grams of sugar, which explains that and is a total waste because you wouldn't recognize all that added sugar from a bite of it. All you taste is some apple, a hard it of cinnamon, maybe some more apple. Or maybe not if you've been a smoker for any extended stretch of you're life. I never was and never will be because I satisfy my need for instant gratification with healthy stuff like cereal that has at least three grams of fiber like this stuff. By the way, this cereal has lower vitamin enrichment than some Captain Crunch varieties. Did the captain steal vitamins?

Maybe Apple Cinnamon Cheerios only resembles something I should like because its hearty, woody look and feel appeals to basic masculinity.

18. Regular Cheerios

Cheerios have been around since 1941 when they were called Cheeri Oats, but didn’t become Cheerios until General Mills decided this cereal had earned a better sounding name.

SInce then, Cheerios have been the morning staple of people who just want to get on with their day, as well as those who just want to focus on reading the newspaper rather than whatever ripples or odd spots may appear in their cereal.

Some say vanilla is their favorite ice cream flavor because anything can go in it. Cheerios is the vanilla of cereals. Consumers slice various fruits into Cheerios, such as bananas, strawberries, peaches, blueberries and mango. Avocado? Sure. Other things can go in Cheerios, like chocolate chips, yogurt, peanut butter and M&Ms. No one has yet been bold enough to make an M&M cereal, so put them in Cheerios. Before the explosion of different Cheerios flavors, Danny, who was supposed to be the main character in “Caddyshack,” poured sugar in his Cheerios. He looked like he knew what he was doing, although the plot of the movie suggested otherwise.

17. Multigrain Cheerios

A couple of things stand out about Multigrain Cheerios: its variety of colors, the sound it makes when the O's collide against each other and how it's been around this long. I guess when it came out, it competed with Total because Total was touted as the most healthy cereal ever. But General Mills pointed out that you want 100 percent DV of nine vitamins and minerals in circular form because if you want to be a Lion King, your nutrition is a circle of life.

The name certainly doesn't compel anyone, especially since no one could name the grains in it until recently when it put them on the back of the box (corn, oats, millet, sorghum and rice). Cheerios is too mature to make a game of it. By the way, all those colors in the cereal are real, none artificial. The entire Cheerios brand is consistent about that. Only lower-tier General Mills cereals get food dyes.

16. Toasted Coconut Cheerios 

This is the most Whitey McWhite Person cereal to be done. They toasted coconut to put in this. The flavor is totally coconut. Can other fruits be toasted and put into cereal form? What about mango? That would have a more pronounced taste than Toasted Coconut Cheerios. But we don't want our fruit toasted if we really want to eat it. The back of the box features vacation destinations where you may be able to eat real coconuts. But no getaway contest in which to enter. Thanks, General Mills. Please bring on Mango Cheerios and I'll forgive you.

15. Fruity Cheerios

What does Fruity Cheerios give? A general fruity flavor, real nutrition, consistent appearance and taste throughout the bowl. What does Fruity Cheerios not give? An abundance of color, tons of added sugar, a cheerful cartoon character swooping in to slap the well-being out of you. I can’t hold it against Fruity Cheerios that it displays earth tones instead of primary and secondary colors. Product developers obviously deemed Cheerios undeserving of large amounts of food dye and artificial flavors. Besides, there are fruits with earthtones like avocados. People like avocados, so they must be willing to give this a chance.

Fruity Cheerios aims to be a healthy alternative to Froot Loops, and achieves that to a moderate degree.

14. Peach Cheerios

Within this cereal, one finds a fair amount of flavor and peach puree. Like peach crayons, it doesn’t give enough color or anything else you want from peaches.

13. Chocolate Strawberry Cheerios

This limited edition of the great Cheerios franchise, which was released weeks before Valentine's Day 2021, tested how well love could be manufactured in cereal form.

The aroma upon opening the box is so romantic and lovely that a person may want to kiss the nearest person 1,000 times. Hopefully, that person is worthy of the hypnotizing scent.

This cereal possesses a wonderful chocolate flavor. However, since the strawberry aspect is an artificial flavor, it falls short of other Cheerios fruit flavors. Not that you and your partner can't swing your arm around other's in a love bite fashion as if you're eating chocolate strawberries together.

12. Cheerios Oat Crunch Oats 'n' Honey

Did you know there are oats in this cereal? You may also taste honey. The taste is quite juicy and deep, but not as beautiful as the alternative COC flavor.

11. Frosted Cheerios 

Cheerios marketers walked into the upper management suite, located the right executive office, pounded the desk (ever so politely) and said they wanted to frost their cereal. So they did with sugar oat bran and corn starch. In order to stay "simply made," as they say, they stuck to that and kept it to nine grams of sugar. The color is solid and frosting complete. Someone ran into the room and said not to let the color fade in milk, so they didn't. See how that works.

No color is lost in milk. A bit of powdered sugar taste hangs in the milk at the end.

10. Pumpkin Spice Cheerios

This is the type when you ask, it says, "I throw straight fastballs."

What else?

"I throw straight curveballs."

This pumpkin spice cereal gives you the pumpkin and the pumpkin spice, coming right at your face with what you want and need. Pumpkin puree coats the stuff while the cinnamon and nutmeg round out the flavor.

As far as pumpkin spice cereals go, it does better than some by working harder.

9. Very Berry Cheerios

This cereal looks and tastes like freckled lemonade. The bar for fruit flavor has been lowered for this in a way it wasn't for most Cheerios products. Instead of various purees, it has powders of blueberry, strawberry, cranberry and raspberry, as well as vegetable and fruit juice. I hope you get all those flavors on your buds. I got two or three. The vitamin content is reasonable because they had to get it in before all the fruit walked away from being powdered. 

But they couldn't get acai berry or pomegranate involved, which is too bad. 

8. Honey Nut Cheerios Medley Crunch

Let's say I want to have Honey Nut Cheerios and Honey Bunches of Oats in the same bowl, but don't want to put the effort into buying both. Hey, this stuff takes half the shelf space. And it has giant oat blocks. So much variety here. And no lack of honey.

7. Banana Nut Cheerios 

At first, when I found this, I thought, Oh, this like if banana Nut bread were cereal, but without the nuts, which I guess is good for some people because having nut in a cereal name is usually a lie, except for people with allergies who have to take everything very seriously because you never can say it wasn't made on the same machinery as something just because of the smell."

Actually, the ingredient list plainly says it has pecan ingredients (not just pecans).

The Cheerios brand is just walking out here informing the world it can beat all the banana-flavored cereals by laying down a bunt. Remember Nilla Banana Pudding Cereal? This stuff doesn't make you gag. Isn't that fun?

Also, it doesn't treat its fruit flavor like a serial killer. There's a reasonable proportion of banana flavor to cinnamon. Meanwhile, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios is not so even.

Apparently, Banana Nut Cheerios appeared before, but it must be better now because of technology, improved weightlifting regimens and other stuff that have generally boosted its athleticism over previous generations. 

6. Cheerios Oat Crunch Cinnamon

This cereal is gruff, but not rough. The cinnamon hits you for real, but is balanced with honey, sugar and various grain flavor so that you don't feel overwhelmed. It's also not as hard or thick as other cereals. This justifies having 40 grams of carbohydrates and 14 grams of sugar by boasting four grams of fiber. Oh, and actual flavor, unlike Multigrain Cheerios. 

This combines hardiness, taste and adventure in a way matched by few.

5. Maple Cheerios 

This was introduced at the peak of fall, just when maple harvesters started thinking about what they probably should be accomplishing  (maple season is not when you might expect, as tapping season occurs from February to April). Maple Cheerios slaps your tastebuds hard. No one has ever tasted a fuller, more saturated syrup-flavored cereal. At no point in the bowl does the flavor stop. This is complete, tasty and … healthy.

4. Honey Nut Cheerios

I have probably eaten more than 10,000 bowls of Honey Nut Cheerios in my life. Every single one was honey-smacking and vaguely nutty, leaving behind a respectable honey milk at the end (which the Bible promises in various verses to those who trust in the Lord, ostensibly meaning Honey Nut Cheerios is the cereal sent down from heaven). Honey Nut Cheerios is every bit as healthy and heart-happy as regular Cheerios, but no one ever felt beset by blandness after polishing off a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.

3. Blueberry Cheerios

Like other real fruit flavors of the Cheerios brand, nothing flavors this but real blueberries (and a couple other natural flavors; believe me they're so natural they'll tell you). This comes at your tongue with thick blueberry taste. Blueberry Pancake Crunch was soft on blueberry aura, while this goes hard. Blueberry Cheerios don’t give up until you give up. Also, it’s truly odiferous. If I weren’t so high on the smell, I’d use a softer adjective.

2. Peanut Butter Chocolate Cheerios

Smoothness and fullness of flavor are values to be demonstrated in a peanut butter chocolate cereal. This stuff has that, unlike Peanut Butter Chocolate Corn Pops (which is a lie, as far as any cereal can be). The chocolate flavor in Peanut Butter Chocolate Cheerios is resonant and blends well with the peanut butter flavor. The cereal goes down easy and can be enjoyed endlessly. No question, you will eat it in the bowl in the morning (but don’t detract from the flavor by pouring chocolate milk on it) and scooping handfuls in the afternoon. Both ways are equally pleasant.

1. Chocolate Cheerios

When General Mills introduced chocolate into Cheerios, it brought love into the world. Chocolate brings character to everything it touches, and it blesses this form of Cheerios in the utmost. No shortcoming in taste can be found. Afterwards, the cereal leaves a milk that is almost as fervent as actual chocolate milk. This cereal was so satisfying that I ate three-quarters of a box on a long drive.

[theartofbeinganerd]

I love your writing, and I was wondering if you could do a oneshot where it isn't Jemma that goes into the Framework with Daisy, but Fitz? And how it would change the story? Thanks :)

Aww thank you, and thanks for the prompt! I didn’t do anywhere close to the whole Framework arc (not enough time haha), but I think I did enough to give you an idea of what it’s like with Jemma in the Framework rather than Fitz - and I did leave it a bit open-ended at the end, so there’s always the possibility of more ;D

This is considered to be a follow up to my 4x15 Switch-Up fic, but you don’t have to read that one first to understand this one.

(Ao3)

-

Fitz awoke with a violent gasp, eyes flying open, only tosnap shut once more at the strong, almost…naturallight that was streaming in from somewhere close by. But that didn’t make anysense; the Playground only had artificial lighting, and he couldn’t rememberthe last time that he’d woken up to natural light spilling in through windows,nor could he quite remember how he’d gotten to a place that did, thoughsomething was tickling at the back of his mind…

Blindly, he reached out for Jemma, knowing that she’dprobably have more answers this early in the morning than he could ever hope to.“Jemma?” he mumbled out, but his fingers only found sheets that were muchsofter than the standard-issue ones that the Playground had always had, and hiseyes sprung open once more.

He blinked up at the ceiling, then took a squinted glancearound to see that he was in a sprawling room with floor-to-ceiling windows andmore space than the entire square footage of his mum’s home back in Glasgow.

It was only then, as the confusion was setting in heavily,that Fitz remembered; he rememberedthe discovery of the LMDs and their escape to the workshop and finding out thatshe was an LMD too and stabbing and blood and Daisy quaking hisbones and the words “you and Jemma belongtogether”, and –

Jemma.

Fitz was in the Framework. He was in the Framework to rescueJemma and the rest of their team, to wake them up so that he and Daisy couldfind out where Radcliffe and AIDA were keeping them and bring them home. And,that was exactly what he was going to do, fake Framework life be damned.

He determinedly tossed away the blankets then, climbing outof the bed and crossing the room to what was either a closet or a bathroom. Throwingopen the double doors, Fitz’s eyebrows rose as he found himself staring into acloset as big as the room that he and Jemma shared on the base (truthfully, itwas probably bigger, but he didn’t exactly have time to take exactmeasurements), and it was full of…suits.

Frowning, Fitz rifled through them, not finding muchdistinction other than slight color variation and the labels, which he’d never givena single care to before in his life. There were fancy dress shoes shined toperfection lined up along the floor and expensive silk ties hanging in front ofhim and nothing was adding up – where washe? Why did he have all of these things?

At that moment, he abruptly remembered the words that Jemma’sLMD had spoken, “…in the Framework, wecan find Perthshire together, we can get married, grow old together…”

The reminder of the words had a shudder passing through him,an ache spearing straight through his chest that made it difficult to breathe,and all he wanted in that moment was Jemma– the real Jemma, the one withfreezing hands and the same fruity shampoo she’d been using since Sci-Ops andkind beautiful eyes and a laugh that always effortlessly warmed him all over.

But, he pushed down the overwhelming longing because it wasn’tgoing to help him any, and instead he focused on the words. For a fleetingmoment, he wondered to himself, is thisPerthshire?

As Fitz finished changing into one of the suits that wasworth more than a whole year’s worth of his paychecks, he had to force himselfnot to think too hard about the last time that he’d worn a suit, when Jemma’seager fingers had divested him of it while her lips had kissed across skinexposed to them for the first time.

Doing his level best to ignore the normally wonderful butnow quite distracting memories, he stepped hastily out of the closet and acrossthe room to glance out one of the windows. The view that he found there was onehigh above a city that he vaguely registered as Washington DC, and even thoughhe’d known better than to hope, he still felt a stark disappointment at not findinggreen grass and wildflowers and a little backyard with a garage in which toexperiment.

Still, Fitz knewthat Jemma had to be somewhere nearby, because if the Framework was supposed tobe some approximation of their lives, then Jemma obviously had to be in his;there was just no other way option. In the end, he came to the conclusion thatshe’d simply gone off to work before him, always more of a morning person thanhe’d ever been.

Very briefly, he did an exploration of what he assumed was somehow their home, but it was all cold,impersonal decorations designed to show wealth more than anything else. Therewas no Tardis cookie jar or silly framed selfies or posters of space, and thewhole place just felt…empty, as though it wasn’t even really lived in at all.

And then, of course, there was his hair, which he couldn’t even begin to imagine that Jemma would’veever let him go through with in any reality (she was quite fond of the curls, afterall, and had always enjoyed dragging her fingers through them), but apparentlyeverything there was all topsy-turvy.

Finally deciding not to waste anymore time trying to figureout what turn in his life had led him there,Fitz left the flat, going down in a private elevator to that opulent lobby ofwhat was supposedly his building. It was only once he was outside, however,that he began to wonder what it was that he was supposed to do now; he had noresources, no ideas on how to find the others, and no clue as to where he even was.

Fitz squinted around at the surrounding buildings, attemptingto find something even vaguely familiar, so that he could try and make his wayto the park where he and Daisy had planned to meet and had hidden theirbackdoor out of the Framework. But, then he was startled by a voice askingunsurely, “Doctor Fitz?”

Glancing around, he found an older man a few feet away,standing beside a limo of all things,holding the door open for him and looking quietly concerned. Nervously clearinghis throat, Fitz hurried over and hesitated only a moment before sliding dutifullyinto the backseat. “Thanks,” he mumbled just before the door shut behind him.

It was a few minutes into the drive before it occurred toFitz to ask, “Hey, um…where is it that we’re headed…exactly?”

A long stretch of silence followed his question, and hewinced deeply, mentally berating himself for sounding so pathetic and confusedwhen this was supposed to be his life– but, he was also quick to remind himself, it didn’t really matter, did it?The man driving this limo wasn’t even real,nor was the car or anything around them; they were all just bits of code, andbits of code couldn’t judge him (eventhough it definitely felt as though they could).

“I’m taking you to work, of course,” the driver finallyanswered, his tone carefully measured. “Are you alright, sir?”

Fidgeting a bit on the squeaky leather backseat, Fitz noddedperhaps a bit more enthusiastically than he should have, assuring the driverquickly, “Oh yeah, I’m just fine, thanks.” When the words didn’t seem to quiteconvince the man, Fitz couldn’t find it in himself care – bits of code, afterall.

Instead, he began anxiously tapping his fingers against histhigh as he began planning on the best way to find Jemma, get out of wherever itwas that they worked there, and then go find Daisy at the planned meetingplace. Convincing Jemma to leave work was going to be difficult, for sure, but maybein this faux-reality where he was apparently rich, Jemma could possibly be atad more lenient when it came to following rules?

Probably not, hedecided almost as soon as the thought occurred to him, a fond smile curling hislips. That was just fine with him, though; the normalcy of it all would be niceafter the sheer shock of his morning already.

It wasn’t much longer before the car came to a stop, thoughFitz couldn’t see much through the heavily tinted windows of the backseat. Hewas just about to reach automatically for the door handle when the door sprungopen itself, and he was so surprised that he stumbled awkwardly out of the car,nearly tripping on his own feet.

He was quickly distracted from the thin-lipped, very much not amused look on his driver’s face,though, when his gaze landed on what was clearly the Triskellion – with a HYDRA symbol on the side.

Suddenly, he had the feeling that getting Jemma to leavework with him was no longer the most difficult part of the plan.

-

It wasn’t much more time before Fitz was pacing restlessly inthe office that his security team had led him to not long ago (and thank godfor that; he assumed that he’d looked so lost and confused and terrifiedstanding in the lobby of the Triskellion that they’d taken pity on him – or assumedthat he was having some sort of mental break, which felt highly plausible atthe moment). The office, of course, was just as excessive and grand as his flathad been, and was just as empty and emotionless as well (but, it was HYDRA and it all made sense now).

He couldn’t imaginea world where he and Jemma were HYDRA,even if it was a virtual reality, and he wondered wildly what the hell had gonewrong; what had Radcliffe done to this world? What did he change that hadbrought them here?

Fitz didn’t have any of the answers to those questions,unfortunately, and he wouldn’t until he found someone that did have them – and, serendipitously, it was at that moment that hefinally spotted the computer sitting on top of a wide desk in the next roomover (because yes, his office wasn’t just oneroom).

With a surge of pure relief, he hurried over, dropping backinto the desk chair and searching instantly for how to turn the computer on. Hewas quick to notice that there was no on/off button, and instead found that ithad both thumb and retina scanners, which were much more easily passed (it was his office, after all) than apassword would have been.

The computer screen welcomed him as ‘Dr. Leopold Fitz’, buthe pointedly ignored everything else that the computer contained in favor ofopening a search bar with which to search their database; if he could just findJemma, if he could just figure out whatever floor in the building her lab wason, then he could go to her and get the hell them out of this nightmarealready.

‘Jemma Simmons’was typed shortly into the search bar, and the few seconds that Fitz had towait as the computer completed the search were excruciating, but then finallysomething popped up and there was her picture and warmth flooded him and thenhe saw –

Deceased.

Time seemed to stretch on for a long, breathless moment asFitz tried to figure out what had happened. It was her picture, but…butsomething had to have gone wrongsomewhere, things just weren’t adding up.

“What?” he asked himself in an absent whisper, his fingers beginningto shake imperceptivity where they hovered over the keyboard. “No. No, there’sa mistake, there’s…” With an even stronger sense of urgency than before, Fitz typedin her name in again, and again, and again, but it wasn’t coming up anydifferent and there was oh god, therewas an obituary, and it said that she had died in a contamination incident atthe Academy, but there was also a report that stated that she’d been executed and dumped in a mass grave and…

And he had given theorder.

Fitz felt his empty stomach give a threatening roll and hecouldn’t breathe and he was well aware of what happened to the real body whenthe avatar died and she couldn’t be,she couldn’t be and he…

Feeling faint, he was on the verge of passing out from sheerpanic and horror and the continuing thought of I killed her I killed her I killed her when the door to his officeopened without preamble (though he was sure it had probably been prefaced witha knock that he’d been unable to hear over the sound of the blood pounding inhis ears). A bulky man dressed in all black that must’ve been a member of hissecurity team was leaning in the open door, saying something about a breachwith a prisoner and that he needed to come with them immediately.

Unable to find the capacity to argue or make an excuse ortalk his way out of it, Fitz moved mechanically, allowing himself to be draggedup and out of the room and into a nearby elevator. The two men with him werebriefing him on the situation, but he wasn’t even attempting to listen, turningthe sound of their voices into dull background noise.

What was the point? Why even bother playing along, gettingout of the building, meeting up with Daisy – what was the point of getting outof the Framework when there was nothing for him to go back to?

He felt a brief, flash of anger through the resoundingemptiness then, and he couldn’t believethat Radcliffe had put Jemma in the Framework just to die, he’d claimed to beabout preserving life, he’d claimedto care about Fitz, only to take away the most important thing in his life and –

The anger was sapped out of him in an instant as heremembered hollowly that it hadn’t been Radcliffe that had given the order,that had had his finger on the metaphorical trigger. It had been him, it had been his avatar, and I killed her I killed her I killed her.

He wasn’t conscious of much as his guards led him downhallway after stark white hallway, until one of them stepped forward while theother moved to block Fitz defensively, and he noticed the first pulling a gunon a defenseless man. And though he was empty inside, Fitz still opened hismouth to stop him, but he was too late (as always) and the guard had alreadyfired and it was just a taser, thankgod (but it didn’t matter, did it? They were all just bits of code and the onlything that mattered there was already gone, thanks to him).

Through the fog of despair and pain and the urge to just liedown and cry for awhile, to tear his heart clear from his chest, Fitzrecognized the man writhing in pain on the floor at his feet, just briefly, and–

“Fitz?”

Hastily, he lifted his gaze to meet Daisy’s, findingoverwhelming relief in hers, and she smiled, but Fitz couldn’t muster anythingmore than the dead-eyed look that he was sure had been written plainly on hisface since he’d been taken from his office. Daisy looked terribly confused andworried, shooting glances at the guards, who were now asking him what to dowith the prisoner.

He muttered something vaguely like, “You figure it out,”before Daisy was grasping his hand and leading him away swiftly down the hall,to an empty office that she locked behind them.

As soon as the lock had clicked securely into place, Daisythrew her arms around Fitz in a tight hug, breathing a heavy sigh of relief againsthis shoulder. “Oh Fitz, I’m so gladto see you! May’s not May and I have no idea where anyone else is and –”

“Jemma’s dead,” Fitz cut in to inform her tonelessly, unableto keep the horrible truth to himself any longer when it was the only thoughtcurrently rattling around in his brain (and would likely be the only thoughtthat he ever had again).

“What?” Daisy gasped,leaning back from Fitz far enough to meet his eyes with her own wide-eyed,horrified gaze. “Are…are you sure? What happened?”

“I looked it up in the HYDRA database, Daisy, where it saidthat I gave the orders to execute her along with hundreds of other people atthe Academy, so yeah, I’m pretty sure.” Angrily, he ran a hand through his dumbstyled hair and clenched his jaw tightly shut to keep in the guilt and thegrief and the pain.

“Maybe it’s not true, maybe it’s a lie, maybe it’s fake,” she offered reasonably, thoughher tone was a touch desperate. “Radcliffe wouldn’t have let anything happen toher, and everything else is definitely notwhat it seems.” Reaching out to him once more, Daisy laid a comforting hand onhis shoulder, giving it a squeeze to try and anchor him back in the moment. “Beforeyou sound the funeral bells, let’s do some digging and figure out what’s goingon here and what’s as it seems and what’s a tangled web of lies – it is HYDRA after all, Fitz.”

Jemma’s smiling face in her identification photo with ‘deceased’spelled out next to it was still flashing before Fitz’s eyes, but he also knewthat Daisy had a point – there was no reason for him to be jumping toconclusions when he hadn’t seen any kind of concrete proof. And truly, thescientist in him knew that, but he’djust been caught so off-guard by the idea that she was dead... But, Fitz knew itwas true that Radcliffe wasn’t one to waste life, or brilliance in any form,and he’d always been impressed by Jemma’s intellect; he wouldn’t have allowedJemma to perish in the Framework, even if it had been at Fitz’s own, unknowinghand.

“You’re…you’re right,” Fitz said slowly, giving a tiny nodin acknowledgement. There was still a part of him that was mourning andfracturing apart and aching inside because there was still a chance that it wasall true, but he was going to ignore the grief for now and focus instead onproving himself wrong – besides, Jemma had survived months upon months at boththe real HYDRA and on a hell planetwith an evil Inhuman, so what was a few days in a virtual reality to her?

Daisy’s lips quirked up into a relieved smile and she noddedas well. “Good. Okay, what’s our game plan on getting out of here, then?”

No sooner than Daisy had said the words than the door to theoffice began to open behind them. “I thought you locked that,” Fitz hissed as hesearched for something nearby with which to defend himself and Daisy, in casewhoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t friendly (and it was HYDRA, sothat was a pretty safe bet), and finding nothing of use.

“I did,” Daisywhispered back fiercely, just as the door opened fully to reveal…

“Leopold,” AIDA greeted him in clear relief as she steppedfurther into the room, as though this was an entirely normal occurrence. “Thereyou are; I’ve been looking for you since you arrived this morning.”

Blinking rapidly, Fitz turned to Daisy at the same momentthat she turned to him, and they stared at each other blankly for a longmoment.

How in the hellwere they going to get out of this one?