#i was singing i have nothing by whitney houston and then that same day watched lord of the rings and sam says that to frodo

[fnaflucasverse]

Bad Taste In Music

i Cannot believe we get perry and tiger before the guy this au is named after. but that's what happens when you go insane over tiger liking r&b ig! apologies if it's kind of a nothing story and if tigers kind of ooc but i liked writing it. is this canon to lucasverse? idk! is it me having fun with my two fav guys? ya <3 but oh i should not have stayed up this late to finish this.....

Tiger belongs to @fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction

A little while into her training, somewhere above the drum-pounding rhythm of her fists against the punching bag, Peregrine began to hear music.

And it wasn't the good shit she sometimes heard on the truck radio, with crunchy electric guitars and crashing cymbals—it was that sappy, soulful, piano ballad garbage that always made her switch stations. With a groan, Peregrine sped up her jabs, hoping to drown out the din… but like the worst kind of bug, the music wormed its way into her ear, into her brain, and twisted like a knife.

She punched faster, hit harder, felt the pain shockwave from her knuckles up her arm. Even still, Peregrine heard the song.

She grit her teeth against it; the singer's words were indistinct, but the tune carried all the damn same. The more the song grated on, the more fleeting thoughts shot through Peregrine's mind: a kind, smiling face, singing a tender lullaby to a restless toddler and her brother, the feeling of being warm, safe, and—

She couldn’t fucking train to this shit.

With a roar, Peregrine's fist slammed square into her target. The punching bag flew into the air, viciously pulled back to earth by its chain. It swung at Peregrine with a vengeance—but she had already left the gym, stalking through the hallway for her next victim.

The hallway opened up into the living room, where a TV sputtered static at peeling leather armchairs and mismatched chairs gathered around the makeshift dining table. In the center sat the source of the noise: a record player, still crooning away. And sitting in front of it, slumped shoulders shielding Peregrine from the culprit…

Peregrine's lips drew out into a thin line.

Her old man was getting drunk again.

She'd be less surprised if she could see beer cans anywhere, anything to say he’d been drinking the cheap beer he made her restock every other fucking day—but he was staring, gaze empty and distant, at the whiskey bottle strangled in his grip. And if it was whiskey he was drinking—as if the music wasn't a giveaway—he was thinking about her mother.

And he'd promised the Boss he'd stopped.

God-fucking-damnit.

Peregrine stomped up and yanked the needle away from the record with a satisfying screech.

Tiger spun around, hand instinctively reaching for a pistol that wasn’t there. Peregrine crossed her arms, watching him recognize her, freeze, and sink back into the chair, shaking his head. “Jesus, Lee, you don’t just…" Alcohol coated his breath. “You’re done early.”

“I’m taking a break." Peregrine jerked her chin towards the record player. “Where the hell did you get that?"

Tiger's head swiveled towards it like he'd forgotten it was there. "That's just… something I found in the old stash." He set the bottle down, rubbing the back of his head like a kid caught with his hand in Dad's wallet. "Just thought I'd fix it up, see if it still works… Could sell it, you know; people collect this sort of—sort of thing and…"

He trailed off as Peregrine picked up the record to frown at the label. Who the hell was Whitney Houston? "Uh-huh. And you found this with it, too?" Perry tried twirling the record on her finger—

Her father snatched it faster than she could blink. "Lee, you don't play with things you could break," he scolded.

Peregrine rolled her eyes. He'd never stopped telling her off and never would until he dropped dead, and even then he'd probably return as a ghost to tell her off even more. She swiped his whiskey and hopped up on the table, resting her bored chin in her palm as he watched him hunt for the sleeve to return his record to. Bottle was half-empty. Peregrine watched Tiger carefully slide the record back into place, spying the tracklist on the back. Ugh. 'Love' this, 'Love' that. It made her want to throw up.

“You actually like this kind of shit, old man?" she snorted, only half in disbelief.

“She’s a very talented singer,” Tiger defended, closing the record player with a click. His eyes clouded. "Anyway, it was—it… belonged to your mother."

Peregrine shut up. Tiger took it as an invitation to continue whatever 'when we were all younger but especially you' spiel he had ready to vent. “You know, Lee…,” he began, clearing his throat, an uncomfortable phlegmy sound.

Peregrine's eyes drifted to the ceiling. Better to let him talk. He'd get it all out of his system, and she'd go dump whatever whiskey was left down the drain.

"You know… your mother used to sing these songs to you, get you to sleep easier. I don't think you remember any of it—you would've been five or so—but…" A nostalgic, weary smile crossed her father's face, always a little alarming to see nowadays. "God, there were days when you would just not go to sleep! Neither could we. You used to be scared of every little thing, just crying and crying—"

"That's gotta be bullshit," Peregrine grumbled.

"—We were really worried about you, Lee," he continued. "But then Jaq figured out you liked being sung to—especially this one song—what was it—'The Greatest Love Of All?' But that was the year…" The smile melted from Tiger's face, turning into a familiar frown. "Anyway, that's when Ms. Houston herself helped out," he said, giving the record player a firm pat.

Peregrine felt cool, smooth glass in her hands, the swirling weight of the whiskey, the gnawing of memories as they scratched at her skull.

The smiling face. The gentle voice. The feeling of warmth and safety and…

And love.

There was a strange knot in her throat.

"Yeah, yeah," Peregrine abruptly snapped, rocketing to her feet, "and when Panther gets back, he'll want to know why the hell you lied to his face. So just gimme that—" she grabbed the record and bundled the player under her arm— "I'll get rid of it." She glared at Tiger, his expression flashing through bitterness, guilt, resignation… "Drink some water. And take a fucking nap; you're being pathetic," she cut into him, whiskey bottle hanging from her fingers.

He didn't meet her eyes.

"'Night, old man," Peregrine muttered, and strode away.

She didn't head back to the gym.

She didn't get rid of her contraband.

She headed straight to her room, shoved them both under her bed, poured the bottle's contents out the window, and curled up on her mattress, letting second by second tick agonizingly by. And when, and only when the world was nothing but darkness, Peregrine retrieved the record player, cranked the volume as quiet as it could go, and, as Whitney's voice crackled softly, she let her eyes slip shut.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (553): Thu 21st Sep 2023

Another day sat in the sun. I don’t know what it is but for some reason I whenever I’m in the sun rather than tan I just break out in pink patches scattered randomly throughout my body and then when they go brown I end up looking like a victim of domestic abuse. My foot is a bit burnt so I went to the local supermarket and bought some flip flops. As I was browsing the long row of shops a guy outside a restaurant waved and said good evening while using his other hand to point towards his restaurant. I said “Nah you’re alright mate” and as I walked away I heard him say “All I said was ‘Good evening’ my friend”. and I turned back and said “I know and I shall treasure the memory for the rest of my days”. Later on after I’d bought my flip flops and was walking back towards the hotel the same thing happened only this time it was a young lady trying to coax me in. I shook my head and continued walking and she shouted after me “You should try smiling once in a while” and I genuinely thought about saying “I’ve got Bell’s palsy you bitch!” but I decided against it considering I’ve already insulted the disabled enough in my life by claiming benefits for the last 15 years by telling the DWP I’m addicted to pizza. The sun was too bright for me to read any more of The Last Child during the morning or early afternoon so after the pool area had closed I found a chair in the shade and had a good read in peace. I hadn’t expected much of this novel because John Hart’s last book Down River didn’t do much for me but The Last Child is a major improvement. I’ve had this experience a lot during this challenge where I’ll read a second book by an author who’s first book did nothing for me and the difference in quality is such that you question how these can be from the same author. Johnny the main character comes face to face with the man he believes kidnapped his sister but before he can extract any information from him another girl he kidnapped shoots him dead. I’m so happy that this holiday has coincided with the book I’m reading turning out to be good because now when I look back I’m going to link the two forever. I had to buy some WiFi for the room because I got sick of having to go up two floors to use the lounge WiFi but that’s exactly why the owners make WiFi available in the lounge so the guests eventually get tired of walking and just buy it for the room. After it passed nine o’clock I was still very much wide awake and so I decided to break my rule of not going places where people are by going down to the hotel bar to watch the entertainment for the night. They had a singer on who was a Whitney Houston tribute act and quite an accurate one because her singing voice made her sound like she was drowning in a bathtub. 

[therecordconnection]

Ranting and Raving: "Sussudio" by Phil Collins

This is ‘Sussudio.’ A great, great song. A personal favorite.

When American Psycho first came out in 2000, one of the ways that protagonist Patrick Bateman was shown to be utterly insane to the audience was through the way he would ramble on and talk about pop music as if he were talking about high art. At the time of the film’s release, nobody did this. Nobody could be bothered to examine vapid pop music made by Whitney Houston, Huey Lewis & the News, or Genesis/Phil Collins with any kind of analytical eye. It was decided that there was nothing worth exploring. His musings on “Hip to be Square” and Genesis’ career path from prog rockers to pop stars are interesting and people can now quote them on command, but make no mistake: It was supposed to be one of the many clues that revealed that this guy is a special kind of deranged. 

Twenty-three years have passed since then and Patrick Bateman’s strange, falsely profound manner of finding critical value in pop music has become the prevailing ideology. Bateman’s monologues come while he’s preparing to kill somebody with an axe, while he’s setting up equipment to film himself fucking two women at once, and while he’s watching the same two women feel each other up on a couch. Satire or not, it caused something to shift in the culture. People take mainstream pop music more seriously now than they ever have before. Pop music does have critical value to it and it’s only been within the last two decades that people have truly decided that maybe pop songs aren’t as vapid and shallow as we may think they are. There are now entire books dedicated to doing the kind of wild, deep, analytical study of silly pop songs and artists that Bateman does in the movie.

If you’ve seen American Psycho, you may notice that while he plays “Sussudio” (a strange choice of sex music) as he’s walking over to get busy with the women, he mentions that it’s a great song, but does not monologue over it. 

This is because “Sussudio” is indeed a great, great song. But it’s also a stupid, silly pop song that doesn’t actually say a hell of a lot. It doesn't need to. 

In my experience, “Sussudio” is one of those songs that you either love or despise. When Phil Collins backlash had reached a height in the nineties (due to him being so successful and inescapable during the previous decade that people were just sick of the guy) “Sussudio” tended to be one of the low-hanging fruits people went for when insulting the guy. Back in the day, famous internet frat guy Seanbaby had this old joke, which sums up the negativity well: "Sussudio" is what a normal word sounds like when you try to say it through a mouthful of dick. South Park went full playground bully and made entire episodes making fun of the guy, one scene having him sing the song with complete nonsensical babbling in the worst attempt at mockery I think I’ve ever seen (which is a low bar for South Park). Family Guy at least had a more light-hearted, complimentary joke about the song: During the season two episode, “The King is Dead,” Brian Griffin is seen doing vocal warm-ups before he and Peter Griffin put on their production of The King and I. Part of Brian’s vocal warm-up is to sing “su-su-sussudio” quickly. So people make jokes about this song, but not all of them are mean.

Personally, I’ve loved Genesis and I’ve loved Phil Collins for a really long time. I don’t mind going to bat for “Sussudio” because Patrick Bateman is absolutely correct: It’s a great, great song. It’s also a personal favorite of mine as well. 

Musically, this song is dated as all hell, but it’s dated in a “time capsule” kind of way. “Sussudio” is a song that only could’ve been made in 1985. The production just has all of the hallmarks of what was hot at the time, that if this had been made at any time before or after that year it wouldn’t have had the same impact. Sussudio works because it needs to be this big eighties monstrosity. Everything about the production is just a blast in the face in the best way. It’s the kind of song that you only need to hear about thirty seconds in order to know if it’s something you’ll love or hate. Phil spent most of the eighties trying to find the loudest and biggest drum sound he could make and he found it with this song. It sounds like your angry cousin turning his bedroom wall into swiss cheese but it grabs your attention immediately. You hear it and you know within the first few measures what song is playing. Beyond the drums (which are just a drum machine that he found the perfect programming for), there’s that colossal main keyboard riff that’s so pleasing to the ear and such a good hook that you don’t even care how many times it's played. “Jump” by Van Halen is a similar song that benefited from that. There’s the bass synth, guitar, and the horns all tucked in there as well. The important thing about this song is that while it sounds big and in your face, it’s mixed very well so it doesn’t sound like formless sludge. Make no mistake, this groove is  t i g h t . It’s locked in from the second it starts and remains that way until the end. It’s tight without ever sounding too stilted. It’s just right.

Now, Phil Collins attempting to get funky and make a dance track wasn’t any sort of record company request and it wasn’t him losing a bet or anything. It was a deliberate attempt to change things up. By the mid-eighties, Phil was afraid his image was getting too dark, too dour. His solo songs “In the Air Tonight,” “I Don’t Care Anymore,” “Do You Know, Do You Care?,” “Thru These Walls,” and the Genesis song “Mama” are all some shade of dark, moody, twisted, bitter, and angry. He was also getting worried that people were starting to see him as a sad balladier, “If Leaving Me is Easy” and “Don’t Let Him Steal Your Heart Away” being examples of that. He decided that No Jacket Required, his third album in 1985, needed to lighten things up. He needed to show the people that he could party. 

So he listened to Prince’s 1999 way too much and went from there. There’s an argument to be made that “Sussudio” is a Prince ripoff. Truthfully, I don’t think I fully agree with that. Yes, “1999”’s DNA can easily be found in “Sussudio.” The foundations of the track are pretty similar, mostly in that steady drum beat/keyboard riff combo. It has the aura of “Can we have ____? No, we have ____ at home” meme. Then again, if trying to make a party track is your goal, you might as well take inspiration from one of the greatest party tracks ever written. 

Phil wasn’t the only strange white guy trying to get funky in the mid-eighties. Hell, he wasn’t even the only Genesis member trying to get funky in the mid-eighties. Peter Gabriel tried it with “Sledgehammer” and Talking Heads tried it with “Burning Down the House” (and most of the Speaking in Tongues album). Both were attempts from weird white guys trying to take influence from Motown and old funk from the seventies and attempt to make something new with it. Both of them fail as the things they aimed to be, but succeed in their own weird and oddly charming way that narrowly avoids the usual “cultural appropriation” conversation that kind of thing would warrant. However, Steve Winwood took a stab at that same idea a year after “Sussudio,” but he ended up with “Higher Love,” a song so fucking lame and awful to listen to that it should be considered a hate crime to some degree. 

Anyway, “1999” is definitely the basis for the song, but I don’t agree with writing it off as a Prince ripoff. “Sussudio” goes in directions that the Purple One would’ve never gone. If anything, I’d argue Phil borrows more from Rick James than Prince. Those horns are blowing notes that wouldn’t sound out of place on something like “Give It To Me Baby” or anything off of his Street Songs album. The Prince comparison is very obvious and apparent, but what he’s trying to capture is the kind of party Rick James was legendary (and infamous) for throwing.

Speaking of those horns, Phil puts those horns to damn good use here. Those horns you hear are none other than the legendary Phenix Horns, better known as the main horn section for Earth, Wind & Fire. “Sussudio” is not the first time Phil has employed their help on a song. They appeared on Phil’s first four albums as well as “No Reply At All” by Genesis. By the time of this song, Phil was well aware of what he could get them to do and what they do here is just phenomenal. They add little flourishes here and there through the first half of the song, then just as the second half is starting, Phil stops singing and lets the horns speak for him. And boy, do they speak. It’s glorious. The Phenix Horns more less dominate the mix for the second half and they never shined brighter with Phil than they do right here. Sometimes, less is more, but for “Sussudio,” the goal is to go big or go home. 

Everything about this song is just so over the top and fun in the best way. There are a lot of mid-eighties songs that sound too stilted, too lifeless, too processed. “Sussudio” doesn’t have this problem. It should, but there’s a strange magic to it where the song just feels alive. It sounds like a never ending party that everyone is invited to. It sounds like a song that’s so cheesy it doesn’t matter how you look while dancing to it, so long as you’re having fun. 

You wouldn’t think a song like this would work in a live environment, given how it sounds on record, but this song absolutely kills live. Phil performs the song live with the same energy given in the studio and since they’re not bound by a time limit for a single or space on a record, he can stretch the song out to lengths you’d never think possible. Live versions of this song can go on for about seven minutes. You’d think it would run out of gas after a bit, but it just doesn’t. He can have the horns go full blast for a little longer, he can throw it to just the guitar, just the bass, just the drums and keys, he can do crowd work with the vocals, whatever! It can keep going and it never feels like it’s overstaying its welcome. It feels like it shouldn’t, but Phil was just batting a thousand during that No Jacket Required period and the things he was writing at the time just worked. “Take Me Home,” the song that ends the album (“Sussudio” starts it) was given the same treatment. Live renditions of that song can stretch to the eight minute mark and it can just build up and go on and the crowd will just keep it going.

Now, the biggest question on your mind, whether you’re unfamiliar with the song or not, is probably this: what does the word “Sussudio” mean? The answer? Not a goddamn thing. 

It’s a nonsense word Phil used when he was writing the song. He explains as much in his 2016 autobiography, Not Dead Yet:

“I program a drum machine track and improvise some syllables over the top. The rhythmic word ‘sussudio’ comes out of nowhere. If I could have a pound for every time I’ve been asked what the word means, I’d have a lot of pounds. I can’t think of a better word that scans as well as ‘sussudio,’ so I keep it and work around it.”

It’s something that’s commonly found in a lot of songwriting demos. A writer will have the music written but it doesn’t have the words yet. They know how the vocal melody will go and the rhythm and meter that the words will eventually have to fit, so until the words get written, they just sing syllables that are meaningless. It’s just a placeholder. The chorus to “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire is an example of a placeholder that just never changed. The band had most of the words but they didn’t have the chorus so they just sang nonsense over it and would figure out lines to fit with “say that you remember” and “dancing in September” later... and then they liked the placeholders so much that they never went back and added words. If it works, it works.

“Sussudio” is a complete nonsense word, but it’s a good nonsense word. It rolls off the tongue well and it’s easy to sing. Your lips make an O shape when you say it so you look like a horn while you’re saying it. It’s silly, but it’s a fun word to sing and you can come up with a number of ways to do it. Phil even sings it in several different ways. “Su-su-sudio” is the main way he sings it, but there are also points in the song where he just sings “sudio,” points where it slithers out of his mouth like a snake and he stutters like the Who on “My Generation” (“she makes me n-n-nervous, m-m-makes me scared” and “s-s-s-su-su-sudio”). Phil also goes the extra mile to really sell it and you can tell he’s just fucking ecstatic to be singing this. He almost makes it sound like a war cry of sorts. You don’t have to be a good singer in order to join him when he yells “OHHHHHHHH” after “just say the word.” “Sussudio” is a stupid nonsense word, but it sure is a fun one. It’s the first song I can think of that I would include in a playlist called “Party Music for Yuppies”.

I’ve spent so much time talking about how silly a word like “Sussudio” is, but the lyrics to the song aren’t completely brain-dead, they’re just not the thing you’re listening for. “Sussudio” is about something. It’s about a schoolboy crush and Phil sells it like this is the first time someone has ever fallen in love with someone. 

There's a girl that's been on my mind All the time, Sus-Sussudio, oh-oh Now she don't even know my name But I think she likes me just the same, Sus-Sussudio, whoa-oh

Listening to this song again, I began to wonder if anybody considered “Sussudio” to be the name of the person Phil is singing about. I wondered about it enough to ask friends and also put up a poll about it. My friends were divided, my poll was also pretty close, but the answer, “Yes, it’s her name” was the winning result. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. We’ve already covered that the word “sussudio” is gibberish. The music speaks for this song more than the lyrics ever could. Phil could’ve said anything over this song and it still would’ve been a hit. I was just interested in seeing if anybody else considered it a name, perhaps I did that as an excuse to try and find deeper meaning in places where there is none. According to Phil’s appearance on VH1 Storytellers back in 1997, his daughter apparently had a horse named “Sussudio,” which tracks because horse names are very strange. He also apologized if anybody had ever encountered somebody who had named their child “Sussudio.”

Regardless, the lyrics and the music work together to really sell the feeling of developing a crush on somebody for the first time or falling for somebody after not being interested in anyone for some time. It’s this really big, joyous, and wonderful feeling. It wouldn’t land that well if the music wasn’t blaring and busy being completely over the top. 

Ah, I've got to have her, have her now I've got to get closer, but I don't know how She makes me nervous and makes me scared But I feel so good if I just say the word, Sus-Sussudio Just say the word, oh, S-Sus-Sussudio, oh

Phil sought to lighten things up and make something more fun-sounding when starting No Jacket Required and “Sussudio” succeeds in doing that. It’s a fantastic opening track that hits hard and relishes in all the best parts of big eighties excess. This is the kind of song where you’re allowed to be silly with it and have fun. Dance to it like nobody’s watching! Sing along with it even if you’re not a singer! Enjoy it however you wish. The best pop songs are the ones that make things larger than life. They take you away from the world and send you to another one where you’re free to just enjoy yourself. 

All you gotta do is just say the word.

[lovetique]

"yes it does." she insisted, "when you're drunk and kissing raccoons then sometimes that leads to kissing other parts of raccoons. then you're having a full blown raccoon party." elena huffed, tossing her arms around in a wild flail of this show of trying to explain what one thing leads into the next like she was trying to speak secret language. "or i'm just looking out for you." she claims, shrugging both shoulders with a temporary innocent smile.

listening to him curse, elena automatically recognized it wasn't common to hear from him and she agreed... she just needed to look rory in his face and tell him the same. "you're always on my side." she thought out loud, unlike him. even in the way it made marcus angry from a place of protection, that was so foreign to her. "i know you want to," sadly recognizing as melodic voice softly spoke, "but it's so much easier said than done."

"no, marcus," she jolted, sighing in frustration, "please stop saying you're nothing." she pleaded painfully, gently curling her finger under his chin and holding it between her thumb and index finger. "i sung to you because i ... wasn't thinking." no, she wasn't thinking. that's correct. but she sung to him because even that day she wanted to tell him how she felt. which is what she was trying to do through the song she chose. her eyes flickered over on those posters on her wall by the tv, whitney houston with her mariah carey ones. torn out of pages of old magazines from her mom's 1980 and 1990 magazine collection. the two beautiful women have been her inspiration probably since she was five years old. the whitney poster reminding her of that song she sung for marcus and how it certainly wouldn't be the last. she'd go singing her songs about him even when he wasn't there anymore to hear them.

there was something about their music that resonated so beautifully and powerfully with the intensity of the love and the very things she felt in her heart for him to describe it. the only way to let it out was to sing, only way for her to describe it was through the music. "they'd live with you, but we couldn't act on them if they were secrets about... well, nevermind." eyes dropping with her heart falling in her chest, landing on his shoulder to stare at in the way it made her feel hollow she couldn't have him because she was a prisoner to the wrong person.

the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, she thought in self loathing. she was falling right in the same path as her mother and that just set off an angry flame in her heart. she loved her mother with every ounce of her being and would protect her faster than anyone, but elena didn't refuse to see how she let her father's control rule her life and then the children she brought into it. she hated how her mother wasn't strong enough to break ties with someone like him until it was him the one who decided to leave. otherwise, he'd still be here full time terrorizing their lives. elena watched that her entire life and just landed in the same cycle, it was infuriating all the more a good person had found her and somehow wants to be with her and she was choosing to let fear rule her life in the same ways her mother did.

it put a scowl on her face without realizing it, once she got lost in thought as she tightly held onto marcus. her cheek rested against her upper arm as both of them were curled around his shoulders, her fingers carding through his hair and she inhaled his scent. "more than anything." she admitted, to his question about it hurting. then once her smaller frame separated from clinging to his bigger one, dark haired girl rested her gaze on his visage. mysterious doe hues absorbing him, finding him magical as ever, he truly was like the embodiment of magic. a wonderful, exciting, bewildering feeling that consumed her chest when she looked at him. it was always there, even when she was drowning in sadness.

weight of his hand on her hip, over the waistband of her white pajama pants with blue hearts adorning them, caused her to draw to him like a magnet as her hands rested on his shoulders. "i'm not." she'd deny even when she was blatantly a liar. and a horrible one, like he points out. it seems like her chance at pushing him away is diminishing, but didn't realize it was completely futile once she hears his next response. that causes tanned cheeks to heat up in a red rosy blush in the warm lighting of the two nightstand lamps that were on, because it was like he was now in her head and could read every single thought and all of her secrets. and because it was true. "marcus, don't." she spoke gently, hand gingerly cupping his chin, thumb pressed to his lower lip when she reads his body language. there wasn't much resistance in her voice, even if she was trying to.

gaze falling on his lips as space between them became very limited, slightly pulling her head back before she simply gives in once he makes the final movement that connects them together. plump lips molding to his and reuniting again as eyes slowly closed, just like she had dreamed about doing again since the last moment she saw him that night. every time she had to kiss rory, it was marcus on her mind, always silently wishing it was him she was exchanging kisses with. all the kisses they HAD exchanged, constantly was playing on her mind. circling around like her favorite records, playing again and again. her heart fluttered the deeper she relaxed into the kiss, like it was thanking her for finally molding into what was right after trying to tear it apart. she kissed him painfully, feverishly, like it might be the last as small hands framed his sweet face in her hold. feeling the dampness dripping down his cheeks again somewhere in between the smacks of their lips, fingers smearing the tear away and kissing the spot on his cheekbone that it had fallen down– scattering a few more kisses along it because she again couldn't stomach this thought of making him cry. she only knew how to try and mend it through sugary apologetic kisses.

          “that’s not how chlamydia works,” he retorts, eyebrows knit in confusion. he thought through the reality of what she was saying and the look of pure agitation across her face. she didn’t want him, but she obviously didn’t want anyone else to have him either. it made absolutely no sense, and she had to know how hypocritical she sounded. the knowledge that she was still with her boyfriend all of the nights that she showed up at his front door was not lost on him, and yet, he never treated her like she was tainted. “i think it would just be easier, fewer syllables, if you just admitted that you want me to be alone,” he says, tone laced with dejection.

'not you' confirms what he already knew to be true. there was no limit to the depth of his hatred for her boyfriend. it went beyond jealousy, venturing into pure malice. marcus was far from a fighter, but he knew that if he ever was alone in a room with the man, he likely wouldn’t be able to control himself. “anyone who tells you differently, anyone who ever could hurt you, …. fuck them.” the latter part of his sentence drips with vitriol, and the rare expletive falling from his lips offers an insight into gravity of how he felt about it all. head is shaking madly, eyes boring into her own, desperate for her unburdening. “then make me understand.” a deep breath is pushed through his nose as he runs a hand through his wet locks. he can feel the question that was devouring him threaten to fall from his lips, although he’s not sure if he can handle her answer, “why sing to me like that and walk out of my life? how could you do that, unless i mean nothing?”

he can’t help but return to the blaring reminder that the original arrangement with elena was meant to avoid this. thinking about her in any light other than a passing comfort or the means to an end, was a complete deviation from the plan. needless to say, loving her at all, much less in this way that was so all-consuming, was far from marcus’ original intention. there was no one else to blame but himself, and he turned on himself every single night. he was full to the brim with self-loathing. elena wasn’t the first person to break his heart, but she was undoubtedly the worst. five weeks didn’t pass by in some blur, but they instead just felt entirely blurry. everyone who knew him well enough was worried about him, even if no one knew what was wrong. his sister had even become his temporary live-in roommate, shoving her way into his door one night with a few bags and simply refusing to leave. marcus fought her, hard, for a solid hour. the kind of misery that he felt didn’t need company, it festered on his loneliness and on the emptiness of his home, and he admittedly wanted to feel it. if he could hold onto all of this pain, as stupid as it sounded, it felt like holding on to elena. but somewhere amid their knockdown drag out about her staying, marcus realized that he could give his sister his room. he could sleep on his couch and finally have an excuse to not be forced to climb into his bed that still smelled like elena no matter how many times he’d try to wash the scent of her away. finally, he acquiesced, and now, all these weeks later, his sister still stayed most nights. the thought that she was probably worried about him right now floated in his mind, then immediately out, because he knew she would forgive him if he finally just explained the circumstances. “no,” he answers, “your secrets wouldn't die, they would live with me. ....isn’t that enough?”

her determination to keep him here doesn’t have the same effect that it did before, because he can’t understand her motivation. he can’t wrap his mind around any of this — how she can push him away, and then refuse to let him leave. marcus was nothing short of a pendulum, always displaced and in perpetual swing while stuck in her hypnosis. he had started to adopt the idea that he was just incapable of pulling love out of people. as if he were cursed with some sort of attachment agensis, he was almost positive that he lacked some essential biological structure from day one. he was hopelessly in love, yet completely unlovable. when she mirrors his own action, placing his hand against her heart, marcus understands this is a gesture of honesty. “it hurts, doesn’t it?” was the only response he can muster, so caught up in the fact that the thin fabric of her tank top does nothing to hide the pounding inside her chest, nor the fact that their respective heartbeats were synchronous.

          the words take a few moments to comprehend, and he initially feels utter humiliation. it steals his breath away, and marcus knows he’s looking back at her with an indiscernible expression. he was truly grasping at the lowest rung of his dignity, begging for reciprocation and acknowledgment from someone who simply didn’t feel it. but this train of thought was fleeting, because she’s grounding him with her now white-knuckled grasp at his wrist. the words immediately betray her, her body unconsciously acting as a liaison for him to recognize the truth. elena was an enigma to him, a question mark wrapped in the most beautiful package. this was part of the pull of her, because he never knew what she was thinking or what laid beneath the complicated surface of a perfect exterior. and, although he lacked confidence, he didn’t lack sense, and the feeling of elena’s heartbeat thrashing against his palm was the antithesis of what she was proposing. it’s then that he realizes that the two of them are different sides of the same coin; terrified, desperate to protect themselves from whatever may hurt them. and he’s not positive, but he’s starting to believe that elena may be pushing him away because she’s scared that she feels it all, too.

before he can respond, she throws her arms around his neck. her body sinks against his own like quicksand. she’s warm against his bare chest and familiar in the sense that he’s held her this close so many times before, and he relishes in the comfort of her contact, regardless of her impossibly tight grip. marcus immediately reciprocates, strong arms wrapping around her tiny frame. it’s odd, feeling like he’s comforting her right now, even though she practically tried to rip his heart out of his chest a few moments prior. he holds her anyway, listening to the sound of her breath, feeling their hearts again synchronize in a rhythm that was all their own. waits until they naturally separate, and he has no concept as to how long they were wrapped in each other's arms.

he waits for her eyes to meet his own, both of them sharing the understanding that he has to dignify her proposal of friendship with a response. the look in her eyes breaks his heart, and he knows that he probably should’ve just walked home. he should’ve spared her. “you’re a horrible liar,” marcus finally blurts. his voice sounds unfamiliar even to himself, low and commanding, teeming with confidence because he knew, for once, that he was right about this. left-hand reaches out, finding purchase at the base of her hip, and when he looks up at her again, he finds that she’s impossibly closer. whether he’s unconsciously pulled her there, or she’s stepped into him of her own volition he’s unsure, but marcus can feel the warmth of her breath pass over his face, and his eye line stops just at the bridge of her nose. “you and i… could never be just friends,” he breathes, gaze fixed on her mouth. neck cranes up slightly, the minuscule movement all he needed to bring their lips parallel. was he doing this? was he really about to do this? opal eyes search her amber hues for any rebuttal, but all he can think of is how she almost bridged the gap between them earlier. still, he stays suspended here for nearly too long, their open mouths centimeters apart, and marcus swears he’s not breathing. the action itself takes so little effort on his part — just the dizzy, relieved decision to give in, with an infinitesimal push towards her. his parted lips finally shelter in the haven of her own, and a soft heat that begins at his mouth unfurls through the rest of him. free hand cups her cheek, thumb resting along the line of her perfect jaw as a tear slides down his cheek. if she didn’t believe that he loved her before, there could be absolutely no doubt now. a cacophony of sounds fills his ears as their lips continue their sway; low thrum of rain on her roof, their respective shaky breaths, his jackhammer heart in his ears. he understands that in this small space of time, he’s surrendering to her.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Pairing: doctor!Jungkook x reader (ok, technically clinical technician!Jungkook lol)

Wordcount: 1.6k

Genre/Rating: Fluff! strangers to friends to a lil’ more 👀👀

Tags/Warnings: mentions blood just for a moment (when talking about JK’s work). shouldn’t be anything too crazy, Jungkook is just your annoying new neighbor that sings abnoxiously loud in the shower. oh, and did I mention that the two of you share a wall? 

a/n: You wonderful, beautiful people! This post is a commission for the ARMY for AAPI Justice and Advocacy Event. Please click here to find more resources and consider donating to the cause! And THANK YOU @ezralia-writes for commissioning this! *insert round of applause and flowers* I hope you enjoy!

April 23rd

You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

You’d been living in utter bliss for the past six months, having moved across the city to a relatively quiet part of town. You had a neighbor; you were sure of it. Had seen their car in the parking lot too many times to not have one.

It’s just, you never heard them. Let alone saw them.

Which was completely fine. The loud, obnoxious lifestyle people usually adopted in a city as bustling as Seoul had never suited you anyway. For six months, you basked in the glorious silence from your next door neighbor. The only signal that you ever got that they were even there was the occasional time you’d both be showering at the same time. Your bathrooms shared a wall, which you tried to ignore. Thankfully, your neighbor seemed to ignore it as well.

So why is there a man suddenly belting out I Will Always Love You as though performing a one-man tribute to Whitney Houston?

The sound of his booming voice nearly knocked you off your feet as you made quick work of shaving your legs. Surely he must have heard your shower running! Can’t a woman get some peace and quiet on a Friday morning?! There’s nothing to celebrate yet!

You even make a point of clearing your throat loud enough to be heard on the other side of the wall, but he doesn’t falter in his loud, albeit dazzling, rendition of the song. He pauses for a second, giving you just enough time to let out a sigh of relief and begin on your other leg.

Leg soapy and ready to be shaved, you make it halfway through one swipe before the singing starts up again.

He only paused to switch songs. Whitney Houston tribute over, he begins a passionate ode to Adele’s greatest hits.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You sigh, resolving to finish up before the song is over and you’re subjected to another.

May 1st

           It begins innocently enough. After a week of subjecting you to his siren-like voice, there’s a knock on your door. Of course, you assume it’s the food you’d ordered, so you just finish throwing your sweatshirt on before wrenching the door open.

           “Hey,” you look up to tell the deliverer that you just need to grab your wallet, but your mouth runs dry at the sight before you.

           Grinning with a friendly smile that might be a bit of overkill, a boy – nah, a whole man if we’re being honest here – gives you a sheepish wave. His long brown hair is falling into his eyes, which he meticulously brushes off to the side.

           “Hey! You must be my neighbor!” When you keep staring at him with what you hope is a look of neutrality, he flushes a deep red. “I- er, I mean, obviously. That was kind of dumb of me…”

           “You’re not the food guy?” It’s the only you can think to say, willing your eyes to focus in on his face and not the way his sweatshirt and sweats look on him. “Uh…I mean, yeah. Neighbors.”

           The man before you lets out an adorable chuckle at your silly comment. “Oh, good. I’m not the only awkward one here.”

           “Woah! I’m not awkward! I’m just hungry!” You cry out, making him only laugh harder.

           “I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he says, nose crinkling as you look at him with wide eyes. So this is what was on the other side of the wall, belting out Mariah Carey this morning. “I just moved in last week, and realized that I haven’t even come over to say hello. You know, like a friendly neighbor should.”

           “Hey, Jungkook.” You look around, wondering if there’s anyone else outside witnessing this incredibly awkward first meeting. “I, uh, well…I’m me.”

           He snorts. “Yeah, I know. I’m assuming your name is the one on the mailbox? Next to mine?”

           We have mailboxes??

           “Oh, ha! Yeah, that’d be it.” You shuffle back and forth on your feet, unsure of what to say next. “Well, I thought you were the delivery service-“

           “I just delivered food, too!” Jungkook says with a grin. He runs his hands up and down his arms even though it’s not cold outside. “I was thinking that…you know, we could eat together? I actually ended up ordering extra, but it looks like that wasn’t necessary.”

           You grin, settling against your doorframe. “Ah, so you’re here to woo me with takeout? You should’ve just said so.”

           It looks like Jungkook’s considering moving again. He swallows thickly, eyes flitting over to you before staring down at your floor. “Actually…I heard you watching TV…were you watching Wanda Vision?” When you nod, he sucks in a breath. “It’s just, I haven’t bought a TV yet, and-“

          “Oh, tough luck. Good luck with that.” You burst out into a fit of giggles at the tentative look in his eyes. Silently forgiving him for all those mornings that doubled as musicals over the past week, you wing the door open a little wider and gesture for him to come inside. “Come in, I need someone to bounce theories off anyways.”

           That’s all it takes before Jungkook is bounding inside, settling down on your couch with an air of comfortability that seems so at odds with his shy nature. Then again, everything about him seems to contradict his shy smile.

           You like it.

June 2nd

What originally started as a simple friendship; Jungkook brought food and you let him have the remote; quickly turned into constant interaction. You learned that he had a roommate that was hardly ever home named Taehyung. He has a brother that he visits every other month. He works as clinical technician, but he’s known more for his beautiful voice more than his title as doctor.

Apparently he was known in the lab for singing little lullabies to the glass flasks containing different samples of blood and other fluids, even occasionally chatting with them as though they were avidly listening.

The more you learned, the more you really wished your old neighbor never moved out in the first place. Especially as you slipped on some shoes to take out the trash one night only to run face first into a familiar chest.

“Jungkook,” you groan, rubbing your nose and peeking up at the boy-like grin he wears. “What was that for?“

You step around him, closing the door to your apartment and heading down the stairs to where the dumpsters were located. “My bad. I was just about to knock.”

He matches your stride, hair whipping about in the wind. You realize that he’s wearing his lab coat, making you furrow your brows. “Aren’t you supposed to leave that at the lab?” You ask, pointing to the white coat.

Jungkook pouts, looking down at his coat as though just remembering that he was still wearing it. “Oh, well I have to wash it, you know. I brought it home with me today.”

“Ok…but why are you still wearing it?” You give him a half-smile as he reaches to open the lid to the dumpster, allow you to throw your trash inside.

Jungkook blinks, as though this latest question completely threw him for a loop. “Uh…I thought it might help.”

“With what?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You think doctors are sexy, don’t you?”

           “What?!” You choke out quite literally, beginning to cough. “Who- I never said that!”

           Jungkook grins maliciously. “Yeah, but I heard you watching Grey’s Anatomy the other day. And it was on your recently watched.”

           You begin to walk away, waving him off. “That doesn’t mean anything, Jungkook. So what? It’s just a show.”

           Running ahead of you, Jungkook bounds up the first few steps before turning around to face you again, effectively cutting off your escape route. “Be honest. You don’t find them the least bit sexy? This coat does nothing for you?” He runs his hands down the lapels for emphasis.

           You attempt to push past him. “What is even happening today?” Jungkook stops you in your tracks, hands on your upper arms and trapping you against the railing.

           “I thought I might as well give myself a chance,” he mumbles, head tilted to one side as he takes in the way you’re staring up at him with utter confusion. “Don’t you wanna go out with a doctor?”

           You blink slowly. “You…you’re setting me up with a doc-“

           “Yah!” Jungkook groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many way do I have to say it? I want you to be the Wanda to my Vision!”            “Jungkook, we’ve talked about this…” you sigh, hiding your laugh at his impatience. “They have a toxic relationship, why would I want that?”

           “Don’t make me do this!” Jungkook whines, cheeks turning pink. “Just tell me yes or no!”

           “To what?” You ask, feigning ignorance. “I don’t even know what you’re asking.”

           “Nooo, you do,” Jungkook presses in closer as though that��ll help you understand. “I want you and I to…to…you know, I think we’d be good together.”

           You frown. “Aren’t we together right now?”

           “I swear-“ Jungkook takes a step back, sighing up at the sky. You snap your fingers, having a sudden epiphany.

           “Oh, you mean together like we start singing duets in the morning through the wall?”

           He blinks before bursting out into a fit of laughter. “I…yeah! Exactly!”

           “No. But I will let you take me out on a date.” You give him a long look. “I’ve never been kissed by a doctor before, you know.”

           Jungkook turns an impressive shade of red. “O-oh. You haven’t?”

           “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’. Turning to head up the stairs, you leave him in his shock. “Wonder what it’s like.”

           Taking off in a run, you only get about a two second head start before Jungkook overtakes you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close, wide eyes eating up every inch of your skin.

           Tilting your chin up, he breathes out, “Well, why don’t we change that?”

masterlist

commission a request!

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chemistry | Alex Mercer

Requested by anonymous:  Can you please make an Alex x platonic!reader fic where reader and alex are both being chaotic duo, like they just have a bunch of inside jokes and crack up when someone says a random word and everyone's like what is wrong with you guys (just them channelling Robert Pattinson in press junkets level of crackhead energy)

Summary: You and Alex are hanging out before band practice to study, but with fun dance parties, come hurried runs to the studio since you lost track of time. The band doesn’t appreciate it too much. 

Pairing: Alex x platonic!reader

Warnings: none, just some chaotic good 

Words: 1101

Los Feliz, 1995

“We still on for studying together?” Alex, your best friend, asks when he finds you at your locker. It startles you, but once you’ve composed yourself, you offer him a smile. “Of course, Lex.” His lips curl up into a smile as a relieved smile breaks through. He’s always been a little anxious. Mostly about big things happening and things changing, but lately, he’s had this fear of losing his best mates or them pushing him away or getting bored of him. You included. Even though you’ve told him multiple times already that that’s something that could never happen, it’s something that wells up inside every now and again, and there’s nothing you can do about it. So, instead of telling him to stop worrying, you reassure him. No matter how many times you have to.  “Your place or mine?” he then asks, gripping the strap of his backpack a little tighter.  “Mine? It’s closer to the studio for your band rehearsal later,” you suggest. Alex nods his head agreeingly, and then falls into step with you as you make your way out of school.  You and Alex have been friends since forever. Your parents went to the same church and became friends on the first day of meeting, which then meant the two of you had to spend time together. Neither of you had a choice. But it’s not like it mattered. The two of you hit it off right away and have been the best of friends ever since. Then, in middle school came Reggie and Luke, and freshman year of high school, Bobby joined the gang. The boys started a band that year, but since you were musically incompetent, you couldn’t join the band. Which kind of sucked, but you loved sitting in rehearsals and listening to every idea they had for a new song. It was just refreshing to see those boys thriving and having fun and being passionate about the same thing. “Okay, what do you want to start with?” Alex asks when he plops onto your bed the second you walk into your room. You throw your backpack to the floor, grab a cassette from your collection, and put it in the stereo. It’s the mixtape the boys had made for you for Christmas last year with all your favorite songs on. Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody is the first song that blares through the speakers.  “A dance party!” you suggest excitedly and pull Alex up from the bed, singing along terribly. For the majority of the mix tape, you and Alex sing along, dancing through the room and giggling at Alex’s hilarious dance moves.  “I really think John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John had the best chemistry of all movie couples,” says Alex when You’re The One That I Want is playing. “Really? I think Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Gray were a better couple,” you argue, “Or Winona Ryder and Christian Slater!” Alex groans, fanning himself when thinking about Jason Dean from Heathers. “I know, Christian Slater will forever be my celebrity crush!” Alex giggles at that.  “Can we share?” he wiggles his eyebrows, to which you just laugh.  “No, bro, Christian Slater is mine. Pick your own hottie!”  “Fine, I’ll claim John Stamos then!” you gasp at this. John Stamos, along with Christian Slater, was the hottest actor alive. You watched Full House with your parents every evening.  Express Yourself by Madonna then starts playing, and the both of you forget about the discussion and start dancing again, singing along with the Queen of Pop. 

“OK,” he then coughs when the last song ends, and you go up to rewind it. “I think we ought to start studying now.” You glance at the clock on the wall behind Alex. When you see what time it is, your eyes widen. “What?!” he asks when he notices your shocked face. “We’re so late for band practice!” you shout and jump across your bed to get your backpack off the ground. Muttering some curse words under his breath, Alex gathers his stuff too, and stumbles after you. Giggling and stumbling, the two of you run to Bobby’s garage where the boys already are. All three of them scattered around on furniture, neither of them seems too happy. “Hey, guys!” Alex greets, panting, and then coughs. “’Sup, kiddos,” you throw up a peace sign with a sheepish grin plastered on your face. “You guys going to come up with some sort of lame excuse as to why you’re late?” Luke asks, his arms crossed and a pout on his face that kind of resembles a puppy’s. You and Alex glance at each other to check who’s going to do the talking, but all that comes out is high-pitched mumbling and stuttering. “We were studying…” you finally manage to bring out. “Yeah, studying!” It was your plan after all. “We were studying and lost track of time, so that’s why we’re late.” The three others glare at you with raised eyebrows, not believing once second of it. “What were you studying?” Bobby queries, now crossing his arms too. More panicked glances between you and Alex. “Chemistry!” you reply. It’s the first thing that comes to mind after your conversation about movie couples having chemistry and celebrity couples. “Yep! We were totally studying chemistry.” Alex, obviously knowing where the answer comes from, can’t stifle a giggle which earns him a questioning glare from his band mates. “Okay, then what are the chemical properties of oxygen?” Bobby interrogates, being the best in chemistry out of all of them. You and Alex had kind of forgotten about that… “Uhm…” More panicked glances between the two of you. “O?” “I think you got a bit of studying left to do, Y/L/N,” Bobby chuckles before getting up and grabbing his guitar. Luke and Reggie do the same. Alex gives you one last glance, and you both burst out laughing. “Can we start rehearsing now?” Reggie asks, getting a little annoyed. Alex nods, and walks over to his drumkit, sitting down behind it. Alex lifts his drumsticks to start counting down, but then stops. “What are we doing?” he asks.    “Now or Never,” Luke replies with an eyeroll. The drummer nods and counts the boys in, sending the band off into the song. You sit down on the couch, still giggling at everything that had just happened. This is such an Alex-and-you thing. Days with Alex are never boring. Something always happens when you’re around him, or any of the boys for that matter. It’s something you would never want to change. Ever.  

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92​

[paperpocalypse]

don’t trust your feelings.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 46. Giving them a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,291 words

Warning: Swearing

“Why the hell are you here?”

“Thought I’d drop by for a visit.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

You look at the knife and then at him, and your lips twitch. Whitney Houston – hell, you used to never shut up about her – sings from the unfamiliar record player on his dresser; Diego glances at it with narrowed eyes. So that’s where the music was coming from. You must have brought it with you. Why? So that he knows that it was you who broke into his room?

I know that album, he thinks bitterly, keeping the knife firmly in line with your face. It’s your favorite.

“Aw, c’mon, Diego.” You stand up, raising one hand in surrender while the other reaches for the knife in your shoulder. It makes a dry, scraping sound as you pull it out, like a spade leaving a sandpile, and you toss it onto the desk nearby. “Don’t tell me you didn’t miss me at least a little bit. It’s been eight years.”

Yeah, eight years. Fuck you. Diego keeps his breathing steady, ignoring the twinge in his side and the thumping in his chest as he makes his way down the stairs. “And whose fault is that?” he says.

It’s a rhetorical question, of course. You both know the answer, and he expects you to defend yourself with the same kind of shit you pulled when you were part of the academy. Go ahead, he thinks. Act like nothing’s wrong. Blame your uncle’s crackpot ideas.

Leave without warning. Who gives a shit anymore?

But you do none of those things. Instead, your gaze flicks away from the quiet venom in his voice, and you stay silent for a moment. His frown deepens.

“I was scared,” you eventually reply. “Ben died and I got scared, okay? So when Uncle said it was a sign we had to leave, I convinced myself that he was right again.” Your hands clasp behind your back, a familiar gesture that makes him think of times long past, and it gets to him more than he would like to show. “I’m sorry for not saying goodbye.”

You’re sorry. Diego holds your gaze for a moment longer, jaw tight, then lowers his knife. He thinks of the day he realized you weren’t coming back. Then he thinks of Ben’s funeral, and he puts his knife away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, less biting this time.

You smile derisively, but he can see the relief in it as well. “Uncle didn’t let me. You know how he was.”

“Was?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh.” He pauses in the middle of removing his tactical harness to glance at you. “… My condolences.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. I didn’t realize how much of a controlling bastard he was until he kicked the bucket,” you mutter, and he hears the record player stop as you lift the needle and turn it off. “And now I’m here.”

This time, Diego really pauses. The way you say it sounds like – “What, you’re moving back here or something?”

“Yep.” You lift your hands in a celebratory gesture. “Surprise.”

—

And just like that, you’re back in Diego’s life like you had never left.

It’s ridiculous, really, how quickly you slip into the cracks and crevices of his routine again. What’s worse, it feels natural. So he resists it at first – takes the back door when you have a match at the gym, throws his knives through the crack in the door whenever he comes back from patrol and hears a record playing. Talks to you with clipped tones and cold words.

But … he never tells you to leave. And you keep visiting. And by the time January rolls by, he realizes that the bitterness he’s tried to hold onto has become something else.

“Don’t you have a shift in a few hours?”

You’re nodding along to yet another Whitney vinyl when he walks in, lounging in the beat-up chair between his dresser and the desk with a newspaper in your lap. At the mention of work, you just sink deeper into the cushions and shrug.

“Yep,” you say.

The boiler room is a lot warmer than outside. He can already feel himself start to sweat. Diego removes his patrol gear and reaches back to pull one of his sweaters off, and his muscles ache in response. Goddamn it. It’s been like that the whole day, after that match with Sinclair the night before. He peels off the grimy article of clothing and rolls his shoulders.

“Didn’t anybody ever tell you that pulling all-nighters isn’t healthy?” He tosses his sweater aside and heads to his bed, falling back onto the mattress with a grunt.

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Vigilante.” The chair squeaks, and he turns his head to see you approaching the bed. “Here, turn over.”

“Why?” Nevertheless, he does as you say.

“So I can massage your back.” You usher him closer to the wall and put one knee on the edge of the bed, hoisting yourself onto the mattress. He tenses when you lean over and press your hands into his shoulder blades. “Shit, man, I’m not gonna kill you. Relax.”

“You couldn’t if you tried,” he mutters, then hisses when you knead a particularly sore muscle. That felt good.

You chuckle and move downwards. “Hey, I’d get a few hits in,” you retort as you work. “But you always were the better fighter, huh?”

“I had to be –” Your knuckles dig into his lower back – “unf. God. Not everyone’s a human punching bag like you, [Y/n].”

“The best offense is a good defense.”

“It’s ‘the best defense is a good offense.’”

“Your dad told you that, right? I remember.”

… Dad did tell him that. He’d forgotten. Diego scowls and doesn’t reply.

You put your whole weight into the base of your palms, swinging one leg over his lower back to kneel above him. “Uncle always told me the other one because of my powers. Guess we grew up with different philosophies.”

“Yeah, well, both of us got screwed over either way.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” His irritation fades a little bit when your voice softens.

You spend a few more minutes massaging his back. Diego closes his eyes and keeps his mouth shut, save for a relieved exhale here and there, listening to the ancient hum of the boiler and the upbeat tune of the next song on your record. He wonders how many times you’ve done this.

He wonders who you may have done it for.

But before he can think about it too much, the record player sputters, and whatever atmosphere that had begun blooming as soon as you had touched him disappears.

“Ah, shit,” you say wryly, moving off him. Diego groans as he props himself up onto his elbows, watching you turn the record player off. The sudden absence of music brings a frown to his lips. “I guess that’s a sign I should get going.”

“Thought you didn’t believe in signs.”

His words come out in a rasp – and in the midst of sliding the record back into its sleeve, you stop, a strange expression flitting across your face. “Shit, you’re right,” you remark after a second, perplexed. Then you chuckle. “I guess that was my uncle talking.”

Ignore the bastard, then. Diego shifts slowly, unwillingly, into a sitting position, and draws his eyes over the map of your face. You stare back. The record fits snugly underneath your arm. The boiler hums.

“What?”

He doesn’t think about it for another second.

“You can stay,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows. But then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face, and Diego commits it to memory.

“If you insist.”

[tthankstoyou]

Platonic hevans how would Sam and Kurt comfort each other after all their breakups on glee

I love this omg thanks for the ask! It’s all under the cut cus this got kinda long. Sam deadass dated like every girl on the show 💀

(I’m not doing Samchel bc I didnt watch any of their scenes. I feel like I shouldn’t talk about a ship I know nothing about haha)

Fabrevans breakup: Kurt isn’t at McKinley but he overhears Finn on the phone with Puck bragging about how he got Quinn to make out with him after school even though she’s with Sam. Kurt is like ‘HUH?’ and subtly asks Rachel and Mercedes about it at their next sleepover, which Fabrevans broke up earlier that day. Mercedes and Rachel tell Kurt all of the drama, including how they had a date to Color Me Mine planned for that night that Sam was looking forward to.

Kurt is looks at the time and see’s that there’s still two hours before Color Me Mine closes. Without much thinking, he gets changed into his clothes (since they’re wearing pajamas) and starts texting people for Sam’s address. Mercedes is like “and where are you off to?” Kurt says “I feel bad that Sam isn’t able to go to Color Me Mine anymore, I’m gonna ask him if it’s okay if I go with him.” Mercedes raises her eyebrows and Kurt is like “As two friends who love painting ceramics.”

So he pulls up to the Evans residence. Sam is surprised to see Kurt at his door. He asks what Kurt is doing there and Kurt is straight up like “To take you to Color Me Mine.”

Sam is dating Santana, so Sam says “I cant go on a date with you if I’m dating Santana. Although I think she’d be okay with polyamory if you give me a second to ask her.” Kurt is like “NO! I don’t want to date both you and Santana. I heard that you and Quinn were planning on going to date to Color Me Mine before you guys broke up... and I wanted to know if it would be okay if I took you... as friends.”

Sam says “A bro date to Color Me Mine. I like that. Let me get my jacket and I’ll be right back out.”

Samtana breakup: Sam wasn’t too broken up about their breakup, he honestly saw it coming. He didn’t even realize they were broken up until he saw that Santana was now dating Karofsky. He didn’t care that much, they barley hung out to begin with. But Kurt cared a lot, he wanted to make sure that Sam wasn’t feeling like he was cheated on.

On a night that Kurt was coming over to Sam’s hotel just to drop off clothes, he also decided to bring his laptop and lots of snacks. Sam was surprised to see Kurt bringing all of this stuff, but he wasn’t complaining. Kurt popped in a DVD of avatar that he bought on the way there and they spent the night under the blankets.

Samcedes “breakup” #1: I use the word breakup really loosely as they were never dating the first time around, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t love each other and ending things wasn’t painful.

Sam is living with the Hudmels at this time so Kurt can hear Sam crying from his room. Kurt knocks quietly on Sam’s door. Sam doesn’t answer so Kurt let’s himself in. He see’s Sam bundled under the covers and notices that he’s eyes are bloodshot from all the crying. Kurt sits on the edge of Sam’s bed and tells him that he’s always there for Sam as a friend. Mercedes may be his best friend, but that doesn’t mean he cares about Sam and his happiness any less.

Sam crumbles at this and sobs into Kurt’s shoulder. He tells Kurt all about how Mercedes sing Whitney Houston to him as a way to tell him that she couldn’t do this even though she loved him. Kurt tells him that everything will be okay and that this heartache won’t last forever.... which is true seeing that Sam and Mercedes go to prom together soon after that.

Bram breakup: Sam would, once again, be a sobbing mess. I feel like Sam would be super out of himself, Blaine and Tina are doing their part to cheer him up as their best friends, but Kurt feels like he should do something too seeing as he’s at home when it all happened.

Kurt takes Sam on a bro date, reminiscent of the one that they went on when Sam and Quinn broke up. Kurt takes Sam to see some movie that just came out that Sam has watched the trailer for like 50 times. Kurt almost falls asleep during the movie, but Sam is having the time of his life. It’s the first time that Kurt has seen Sam so happy recently. They leave the theatre and take a short stop to get ice cream. While eating the ice cream, Sam raves about the movie and how amazing it was. He’s already talking about bringing Tina and Blaine to see it with him the next weekend.

Samcedes breakup #2: Sam didn’t see this one coming, they were doing so well. He thought for sure that Mercedes would be the girl he married (spoiler alert: he does marry her, he just doesn’t know it yet).

Before Sam goes back to Lima, Kurt takes Sam out for brunch to talk about how he’s feeling about everything. Sam tells him that he feels like he gives so much love, but the world doesn’t want him to be happy. He tells Kurt that he had a plan for his future with Mercedes. He could see it all so clearly, she was the first person that Sam has dated that he could imagine getting married, raising children, and growing old together. Sam says that feels like he should just give up at love, because it obviously is never going to work out.

Kurt listens to Sam talk in detail about this all for a hella long time, only adding in comments here and there to make sure Sam knows he hasn’t tuned out.

At the end of Sam pouring his heart out, Kurt says “I know my best friends, which are you and Mercedes. I can see how in love you too are and how hard you tried to make it work. From what it sounds like to me, this isn’t a forever breakup. It’s an ‘until we meet again’ breakup, meaning that your story isn’t over. And don’t you give up on love Sam Evans, you are one of the most lovable boys I know. And I promise you that Mercedes hasn’t stopped loving you ever since the summer you guys had your little fling.”

Klaine breakup #1: Sam is in Lima consoling Blaine after the breakup, but he also can’t help but wonder how Kurt is feeling.

One night, Sam calls up Kurt on skype and asks him how he’s holding up. Kurt lies and says he’s fine, but Sam can see right through it. Sam says, “You’re not fine. You don’t have to lie to me” which makes Kurt break out into tears. He tells Sam how much it all hurts and how he never thought he’d have to feel pain like this. Kurt mentions how he feels like he’s not allowed to be sad because he has to help keep Rachel’s spirits up, but it’s just so hard. All he wants to do is have his best friend huh him and help him through his heartbreak.

That gives Sam the idea of visiting New York for the weekend. Sam buys plane tickets with money he’s saved up from working at the tire shop and shows up outside of Kurt’s door on Friday night, completely taking Kurt by surprise. Sam immediately gives Kurt a huge ass hug and tells him that he’s there to help keep his mind off of things.

They have a great weekend, Kurt takes Sam to places in New York that they didn’t see at Nationals two years prior and also takes Sam to all of his fav hidden spots in the city. One of them being a cute little bakery that he spends his mornings in when he doesn’t have anywhere to be.

Sam and Kurt spend Saturday night watching musicals, while Kurt tries to hold back tears because they remind him of Blaine. Sam notices this and makes Kurt turn it off and instead put on Avatar. Kurt is like “Excuse me?” but Sam says it’s because that’s what Kurt did for his breakup with Santana. They might as well make it a tradition.

Klaine breakup #2: Just like with the previous breakup, Sam skype calls Kurt. It’s something they’ve been doing regularly, it helps keep Sam up to date with Mercedes and helps keep Kurt up to date with his dad and Carole.

Sam logged onto this call knowing that they’d already broken up, he got the info from Blaine (since they’re besties). Unlike last time, Sam isn’t able to easily take a day few days off to fly to New York for Kurt. Things at school are ramping up and he’s been needing to work longer hours. So all that he can do is give his support through the computer screen. They stay up all night talking about anything and everything.

Kurt is trying to skate around the topic of the breakup, but he knows that he has to mention it at least once that night. Before the call ends, Kurt let’s Sam know how he’s doing with it all. He tells Sam that it’s painful knowing that the man that you love isn’t the man that you will marry. Sam knows exactly know he’s feeling, as he felt the same way about Mercedes. They fall asleep while on call, Kurt wakes up first and smiles at the sight of Sam’s sleeping face.

[bentforkent]

earth-shattering, red roses

penelope garcia x gender neutral!reader

a/n: here is my very hesitant, very obscure, and very late submission for @veraiconcos​ fic challenge. is there a market for penelope x reader fics? dunno, but there should be. penelope rights. 

tagging sweet @gaystevie​ 

content warnings: none - this is half fluff, half angst :) 

word count: 1842

in which you’re penelope’s online friend and she develops a crush on you. 

“and then i just,” penelope pauses to hold up a pair of campy earrings to the camera, “pick out some earrings, and i’m good to go!” after putting the jewelry on, she turns her face to model. her hair is pulled back into a bun, adorned with some fluffy hot pink hair accessory. 

“looks cute, pen,” you muse, watching her pose on your tiny phone screen. penelope looks at you with a wide smile. there’s a piece of your hair sticking up and out of place, and she desperately wants to reach out and smooth it out. her thumb twitches.

 “alright my sweet soulmate,” she starts with a smile. you know what’s coming.  “it’s time for me to head to work.” 

you pout at her pixelated face. “already?”

“unfortunately, dear,” she says, but despite feeling reluctant to hang up, her words come out as cheery as ever. 

“alright, penny. have fun at work,” you say, and as soon as she acknowledges your farewell and offers her own, the screen goes black with nothing but a tri-tone to signal the end of the call. 

 you and penelope met seven months ago on some new, groundbreaking virtual world game. penelope’s character was a fairy, with wings that glowed so much she had to have paid extra to have them. (she hadn’t. she just hacked into the fairly new and easy-to-bypass code and given her character the virtual wardrobe of her dreams.) she made a point to keep true to herself, even through her tiny computer alter-ego.

 the two of you often floated in the same circles as you played the game. you were funny, always typing something witty into the chat, and she quickly found herself very fond of you. she let her fingers hover over her keyboard before typing out her first message to you. after the whole “fisher king” fiasco, she respectfully refrained from contacting people on the internet, resigning herself to admiring from afar. but you were different. you had interacted with penelope already, exchanging compliments and working together to solve quests in the game. you knew her, and she knew you, but direct message felt like a new realm. it felt...intimate. 

when you replied to her first message, a simple “hi penelope!” with a butterfly emoji attached for good measure, penelope nearly flew out of her desk chair; she was so excited.  she quickly typed back to you, punctuating with approximately two million exclamation points and a link to her own personal social media. you smiled widely to yourself watching penelope’s chat appear on your computer screen. 

over the next months, you and penelope had become practically inseparable. well...virtually, at least. you lived much too far from penelope, and penelope much too far from you.  your distance spanned one timezone and a handful of states, but with how often you two talked, you always felt close. you learned her favorite color, her favorite movie, her favorite tv shows. she learned your guilty pleasure snack, your nighttime routine, and your favorite song to drive to. after 12am, you’d whisper into the phone receiver about your day, telling her about everything that bothered you or brought you joy. penelope revelled in these chats. listening to you was the best part of her day. this was your friendship, and it was good. 

 but recently things had been ever-so-slightly different. penelope lingers on a phone call even though she is exhausted, just to hear your voice. she proof-reads her text messages multiple times before sending them out--who does that? the red heart emoji is fast becoming her most used, taking the place of the pink one. the pink one is platonic, it’s always been platonic, and the red one is romantic. how is this happening? often, penelope lies in bed, imagining you’re laying against each other with your hands entangled. she reaches and rests her hand on the other side of the bed, where you would lie if you were there. sometimes, when she’s really tired, she believes she can feel you.

when thinking about this, penelope’s chest feels tight in the most exhilarating way. she’s confused, naturally. the last time she felt this way was when she thought she had real feelings for derek. (she’d buried whatever feeling that was way deep down in the depths of her brain.)

 could it be love if you had never touched? no. no, penelope is a romantic, but she’s also a realist. this can’t be love, not yet. but...a crush. the realization of the word seeps into her bloodstream, setting each cell in her body on fire. it’s a nice fire, a warm fire, a fire that flickers in pink flames. penelope spins around a few times in her work desk chair. 

gee, how lucky is she that she’s got her own little cave here? no one to interrupt her private moment of reckoning...although, now that she thinks of it, it’s not much of a “moment” from the outside. it’s not like her cheeks are stained red and there’s a sign on her forehead that reads “i have a crush!” any one of her coworkers could walk in right now and have no clue anything is any different. (penelope forgets that she’s terrible at hiding things and that she works with trained behavioral profilers.) she pauses a minute, staring at the door, half-expecting hotch to walk in and chew her out for not looking up white males in nebraska, or something. 

 penelope smoothly rolls her chair over to where her cell phone rests. she really shouldn’t be making a personal call at work, she thinks, but she also really shouldn’t have hacked into reid’s work computer and changed everything in english into tagalog last week. penelope can’t remember the last time she genuinely cared about the FBI’s rules. (in her defense, it took spencer like--half of a second to figure out what the unfamiliar language was, and a whole work day to understand it. she was teaching him!) 

 she picks up the phone, grinning as she swipes through recent text notifications of you updating penelope on your day. she finds the “call” button quickly, and waits as it begins to ring.

“penelope?” you question upon answering. “i’m at work, i can’t really talk right now.” you sound happy, despite the intrusion penelope knows she’s providing.

 “no, i know,” penelope replies, twirling a pen in her free hand. she taps her foot quickly. “which is why i’ll make this super quick.” she drags out the word ‘super’ like it tastes like candy.  “i have a crush on you. an earth-shattering, red roses, big crush on you.”

“oh,” you gasp, surprised. “oh! yeah!” you shake your head quickly, as if trying to wake yourself from a dream. all penelope can hear on the other line is the swooshing of air. “yeah, penny, me too. definitely me too. by that i mean, i have a crush on you too.” you’re stumbling, tripping over the words in your haste to get them out, but neither one of you seem to notice. all you can tell is the grin on your face is starting to hurt your cheeks, and all penelope can tell is that if she pulls her knees any closer to her chest she might squish herself. 

 “okay, cool,” penelope says through a smile. 

 you give a breathy laugh. “i really do have to go, though. i’ll definitely talk to you later, though. bye, penny,” you say, and hang up before giving penelope the chance to quip a witty goodbye. 

 you like her back, penelope thinks, the harps playing in her head making her feel like a juvenile pining after someone on the playground. her stomach flutters. the angelic voices in her head are singing, something that sounds like a warbled, choral version of “i wanna dance with somebody” by whitney houston. she closes her eyes, and relishes in it. 

after a second, the stark silence in penelope’s office startles her into reality. 

what is this?

what is she doing?

 oh, fuck, she thinks. tears well in her eyes. what is she doing? this is so unrealistic, penelope thinks, berating herself. you’re far away, only connected to her through a phone screen. it’s a great sentiment to have this sweet crush, yeah, but it’s not practical. not real. it’s not like penelope would ever be in a position to pack up and fly to you, and after hearing you gush about your job just the night prior, she knows you certainly feel the same.

 and then she feels like shit for even calling, for even telling you that she felt this way. it would cause nothing but problems. penelope pauses, in her brain. no, it wouldn’t even cause problems! being with you is so incredibly far-fetched that there isn’t even a “will they, won’t they” debate. any problem is solved with a simple “won’t they.” no, this wouldn’t cause problems, but it would cause heartache, and she should’ve known better. penelope thinks she’s feeling a bit of that heartache now. she sniffles, toying with a tiny plush pig she keeps perched on her desk. sometimes penelope just gets blinded by the butterflies. it’s her best trait and most fatal flaw.

 there’s a knock at her door. derek. 

 “hey babygirl,” he says, pushing open the door and leaning into the doorframe. “what are you doing for lunch?” 

 with her back turned to him, she rubs at her eyes delicately, trying very hard not to mess up her makeup. “uh, i brought my thermos. soup,” she says, clawing desperately at the bubbly personality she can feel slipping away from her for today. she’s just down in the dumps. 

 “hey, what’s wrong?” derek asks, instantly picking up on her sour mood. he steps into her office and closes the door behind him. 

 penelope turns to him, eyes rimmed in red, and gives him a half smile. derek, sweet derek, always so in tune with penelope, is looking at her intently, worry written in every crease of his face. penelope always feels lucky to have him, but especially in this moment. in a rush of emotion, she stands, flings her arms around his neck and pulls him in to a tight hug. 

 derek chuckles. “i love you too.” 

 penelope pulls away with a half-hearted chuckle, swatting the air as if to get rid of the negative emotions plaguing her office. “you come in here with your big muscles and your pretty face and somehow you’ve got me crying in your arms.” she laughs again, slightly more enthusiastic this time. 

 derek pulls her to his chest again, holding her there without words. penelope lets out a deep sigh, releasing every single emotion she just ran through. 

she could deal with those later. she could deal with her royal mess with you later. right now, it didn’t matter. what mattered now was her office, her lunch, and derek morgan.

“derek?” she asks, voice small. he turns to her, prompting her to speak again. “if i asked you to stay, would you?”

[kazoo5480]

Killian startled awake to music coming from his living room, it was jarring as the loft was usually quiet and Emma was usually next to him soft and warm. He got up rubbing his hand over his face and put some pants on. Walking towards his kitchen, the scene he walked into was not one he expected.

Emma was in one of his tee shirts and nothing else, swaying her hips and dancing. August next to her doing the same, what he assumed was breakfast left in a heap of ingredients forgotten for the moment on the island. Fleetwood Macs “Little Lies” blasting out of the speakers, the two of them wore the biggest grins he had ever seen.

Killian leaned against the doorframe while he watched August spin her around his kitchen and sang the chorus with her dancing like no one would be watching them. It was an odd picture to take in, but he loved it so much.

August brought out that carefree side of Emma out-one he had yet to see, and he was absolutely delighted by it. She looked gorgeous, laughing, and smiling- her blonde curls swinging and bouncing with her movements.

“Good morning” he called out, and August winked at him, and continued singing and smiled totally unashamed and swung his hips as he began to beat the eggs. Emma’s cheeks were flushed pink, and she grinned at him, dancing her way towards him, throwing her arms around his neck, and sang to him as she swayed her hips. He leaned down and kissed her and released her bouncing form.

“Hi babe. We are making breakfast” she said, and danced her way back towards August, his tee shirt swaying dangerously close to the bottom of her ass. Killian struggled to peel his eyes off of his girlfriend and grabbed a cup of coffee seating himself at the island.

“I can see that. I am enjoying the entertainment very much- both of you” and August blew a kiss at him, and turned to sing to Emma, using the whisk like a microphone. Killian shook his head, his body shaking in laughter.

She looked so happy; her smile alone might crack her face in half. Toast popped up and Emma shimmied her way to grab it, swaying as she spread butter on the slices, tossing the plate in his oven.

The song ended, only for Whitney Houston to start up, the familiar synth beat of “how will I know” and her melodic voice coming out.  August started singing, obviously they each had portions they sang, Killian thought laughing.

Emma grabbed her spatula, turned and began singing to Killian.

“How will I know if he really loves me?

I say a prayer with every heartbeat,

I fall in love whenever we meet,

I' m asking you what you know about these things!”

Killian swallowed thickly and winked at her with a beatific smile on his lips, and she spun continuing to sing with August who watched and smiled at her dance towards him.

August grabbed Emma’s hand dragging her back to the island twirling and dipping her. Emma’s head thrown back in laughter, her curls nearly brushing the floor, and August released her breaking out into full song and dance while Emma stirred the eggs. Killian felt like an intruder on this, but it washed over him- they were including him. His heart cracked wide open, this was Emma letting him in.

He knew the words, so he surprised both Emma and August by standing, and jumping into song with them, pretending to play the saxophone in the background while August and Emma impersonated Whitney’s portion. August laughed hysterically, and nodded at him- welcoming him into the fold of their pseudo family. Killian grinned like an idiot until the song faded.

Emma plated the eggs up and swayed to their playlist as she stood and ate. She watched Killian and August laugh back and forth, she felt something in her chest twitch unnaturally. August’s surprise text at the crack of dawn about a breakfast dance party had made her world light up, and watching the two of them made it pound in her chest.

August wanted to meet Killian, spend time with him in his space on his turf, and see her life- or what it might look like. Emma was touched, and it had been far too long since she let loose for their classic breakfast dance parties.

She rinsed her plate and left them to wash up and by the time she got back they were in a debate over music. Emma laughed, danced along to “A-Ha” while she washed and rinsed their plates. Killian stood and walked to her, kissing her on the neck. “I’m heading to open the shop love” and she grinned and nodded, kissing him quickly and watched him walk out.

August began drying the plates, placing them back in their places, as Killian came out pulling his jumpsuit up, a cigarette behind his ear. August’s eyes widened, and he shot Emma a look. “Jesus Christ, no wonder you fell for him in a day” and she scoffed slapping his arm.

“Hands off, Jones is mine” and August laughed at her.

Killian shook his head, lighting his smoke up while he opened the garage door and the entry door. He looked at the list, he had a few in the lot for pickup today, but they were done. So, he turned his own music on, and grabbed his clip board, figuring out what else he needed to get for Emma’s bug, and the sedan he was repairing.

He noticed Augusts Porsche out in the lot and shook his head. Emma and August appeared a few minutes later fully dressed and made up, and she kissed him goodbye as they made their way out to Augusts car.

Killian had just turned “fat bottomed girls” up on his radio, as Graham pulled in the lot in his wrangler. August lowered the soft top on his car and peeled out of the lot with Emma’s laugh carrying on the wind, Killian smiling after them. Graham got out and came towards Killian shaking his head.

“Humbert, it’s too early for you to look like you have a stick up your arse- Sheriff or not” Killian said laughing at his friend and stamped out his cigarette.

“Who was that?” Graham asked him sternly.

“A guest” Killian replied cryptically, just to mess with his friend.

Graham sighed, “seriously Jones.”

“August. Emma’s brother and best friend” Killian said smirking. “Why? Do you plan to arrest him this early for going slightly over the speed limit when no one in town is even awake aside from us?” and laughed walking away from Graham.

Graham rolled his eyes “you’re not making this easy man” and Killian shrugged.

Facing his friend, he lit up another smoke, and sat on a stool. “You want to talk, then talk Humbert.”

Graham stood across from him. “I’ve been a real asshole, I apologized to Emma, but I can see she obviously doesn’t care one way or the other that I apologized.”

Killian took in his rigid posture and inhaled the smoke deeply. “Why do you care if she accepts your apology for being a wanker? She is my girlfriend, not yours mate” Killian said exhaling.

He was trying to get under Grahams skin, a tested method that usually yielded results in deciphering Grahams mood swings.

Grahams eyes widened at that comment. Bulls eye, Killian thought.

Killian’s eyes twinkled mischievously, and Graham balked at him. “Your girlfriend!? That’s just bloody perfect, isn’t it?”

“Emma seems to think so, so yes” Killian said back, poking the bear, he was spoiling for a fight and he smirked as “black betty” came on the filling the garage and his adrenaline began pumping.

Graham groaned, “Yeah? well maybe Emma is…”

Killian was up so fast and had Graham by the neck of his shirt and against the door before Graham could even say it. Killian’s eyes flashed murderous, “You will want to tread lightly before those words leave your mouth Sheriff” Killian shouted an inch away from Grahams face, his forearm across Grahams windpipe.

Killian released his hold “Whatever your issues with her and I are, deal with it mate!” Killian barked out, and Graham glared at him.

Graham looked deadly, rubbing his throat he pulled back his arm, his sucker punch cracking Killian’s cheekbone before Killian had a moment to register what had just happened. He looked at his friend and charged at him, tackling him to the ground landing halfway into the lot.

He punched Graham in the mouth, and the sheriff spat blood across the ground. “Fuck you Jonesy. You don’t deserve a girl like that, and you bloody well know it!” Grahams accent stronger than he may have ever heard it sober.

Killian punched him again in mouth, and Graham flipped him landing a punch to Killian’s jaw. They walloped each other hard, anywhere they could reach that was open on the other. Killian felt blood running down his nose, and he spit it on the ground where it joined a mix of both of their blood splatters.

August pulled into the lot, and killed the engine blocking the exit as he took in the scene unfolding him. Emma looked up, and she stopped talking mid sentence, and August smiled at her. “Interesting scene” he mused and exited the car leaning against the hood. Emma leaned next to him, watching Killian beat the shit out of the Sherriff, and she would bet that it was over her.

August grinned at her, “Two men fighting over you? Pft. I expected more” he teased, and she elbowed him.

“Should I do something?” she asked watching them, and August grabbed her elbow “Nope. Let’s see what Jones is working with.” Neither man noticing Emma and August sitting on the hood of his Porsche watching them pummel each other.

“Get it out Humbert. Say it!” Killian shouted at him, and cracked him a punch to the ribs, feeling the skin on his knuckles split open. Graham landed a punch to his lower back. “The fucking kidneys you arse. What the fuck!” Killian shouted as Graham tried to chokehold him. Killian slammed the back of his head against Grahams face and heard the telltale crunch of a broken nose.

Graham released him, blood running down his chin. “You fucking wanker. You couldn’t just leave the lass alone, you had to put your filthy hands all over her. You don’t deserve a girl like that you fucking arsehole, fucking anything with a cunny up the entire eastern seaboard!” Graham growled out cracking Killian in his side with his fist.

Killian doubled over, hand on his knees, spitting blood as the pain radiated through his ribs. “That’s precious Humbert. I love her you asshole. What the fuck would you know about it? You wouldn’t know love at first sight if it bit you in the bloody pecker” he shouted breathing heavy.

Killian looked up from the blood covered cement, noticing the look on Grahams face he bent his neck to follow Grahams line of sight and spotted Emma and August.

“Bloody Hell” he mumbled. Emma’s eyes were wide, and August looked like he was about to eat a bowl of popcorn and settle in for a show.

Killian watched her step forward with deliberation, her beautiful face filled with anger as she gave him a once over and got right in Grahams face. “What the hell is your problem Graham? I don’t care if you think I am a whore, but you don’t have any right to hit your friend you asshole!” She shouted and her fist connected with the sheriff’s eye, and Graham hit the cement hard landing on his ass and elbows, groaning in pain.

August began laughing hysterically, and Emma shouted at him to shut up. Killian collapsed on the cement, and began laughing too, his lip split, and it bloody hurt. It was only too perfect that this small woman cold cocked the sheriff who lay feet away from him, hand over his eye.

August strolled up, extending his hand to Killian, and helped him to his feet. He stood over Graham, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Hello Sherriff” he sing songed, and Graham looked up at the stranger with a deadly glare. “I see you aren’t in a welcoming mood” he said, striding back to Emma and Killian’s sides.

Killian bent and cracked his neck and stepped forward extending his hand to Graham. Graham glared at him, his eyes flashing murderously, but he grasped Killian’s hand and he helped his friend to his feet. “Feel better Sherriff?” He said seriously to Graham. Graham looked at Emma and August and back to him, giving a stiff nod.

Killian nodded, “Good. Now get your ass out of my lot before I have to call your deputy to pull Emma off of you.” Graham looked at Emma, with something like regret all over his face.

“Emma...” Graham started, and she glared at him.

“Go! Now!” She shouted, her voice cracking, and Graham headed toward his Jeep as August moved his car. Killian watched Graham peel out of the lot, his tires squealing.

“Come on Rocky, let’s clean you up” August said leading Killian inside and Emma shutting the gate to the lot. August looked him over, “you got a first aid kit Jones?” and Killian pointed at the red case on the wall. August grabbed it, and grabbed some things out, wiping at Killian’s cuts. Killian winced when he dabbed his lip with an alcohol wipe.

“Bloody Christ!” He jerked, and August apologized and continued. Killian watched Emma pace back and forth, and as she grabbed the hose and began spraying the cement, rinsing the blood away. She didn’t come inside until she was done and slid the garage door down. When she met his eyes, she looked mad.

“Emma, I’m sorry. He had it coming though” and Emma nodded silently.

“Well, I am deeply entertained, here I thought this was a quiet sleepy town, and Emma would be fine here, away from trouble. Who knew you were the cause of the trouble” August teased her.

Emma nailed her brother with a glare. “Not another word August.” She sat on a stool and looked at Killian, guilt washing over her face as she looked at him, her green eyes sad.

“You really thought it was a good idea to beat the shit out of the Sherriff?” she accused him. “I told you I didn’t want you to fight with your friend, his opinion doesn’t matter” she said.

Killian shrugged, and winced as August cleaned a cut on his brow. “Alright stop nightingale, bloody hell.” And August tossed the wipe sitting on the stool by Emma.

“What shall we do with him” August asked Emma, and she smirked.

“Sandbag?” and August shook his head in disagreement.

“Waterboard?” August replied and Emma shook her head at him.

“Confinement?” Emma said smiling.

“Short Shackles?” August countered, and she nodded grinning.

Killian watched them, “are you two talking about bloody torturing the Sherriff? You two are completely mental!” he said, and Emma giggled.

“Just joking Killian” August said and bent to put Killian’s arm over his shoulder, his arm wrapping around Killian’s waist, and he got him up the stairs into the loft. “We need to work on his sense of humor Swan” August said to Emma, and Killian rolled his eyes.

Emma went to start the shower, then helped Killian undo his jumpsuit, as August steadied him while she stripped him. He heard August whistle lowly as he walked straight into the bathroom shutting the door behind him.

“Stop gawking Aug” she said and gathered Killian’s bloody clothes taking them down the hall to the washer and started it.

August leaned against the kitchen island eyeing her, “You are absolutely sure you want me to leave you here?” and she nodded.

“He does have an ass you could bounce a quarter off of” he laughed, and Emma laughed.

“Told you!” Emma said gleefully.

August nodded, “Do I need to worry about the Sherriff? Is he going to pull me over on my way out of town?” and Emma wasn’t sure.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so” she said.

“And you? Will I be wiring bail money to Jones? I have his account information already, maybe I should throw a few grand in there in case” he joked.

Emma rolled her eyes. “This is absolutely not how today was supposed to go” she said shaking some Tylenol into her hand and filled a glass with water for Killian.

August walked to her, pulling her into his chest. “Oh? You mean you didn’t foresee your boyfriend pummeling the town Sherriff in defense of your honor? Lets not forget the part where he said he loved you at first sight” and he felt Emma bury her face further into his chest. He smoothed her hair, holding her tight. “It’s ok Emma, really.” She leaned back and looked at him skeptically.

“Don’t run. I am telling you not to. I see it all over your face, you don’t want to drive two friends apart, and you’re looking to remove yourself from the equation. Do you know how destroyed Killian will be if you do that? And you? You are in just as deep as him” he said softly pushing against her walls.

She scoffed, and he grasped her arms not letting her go. “August” she said exasperated, and he nodded.

“I like him, he is crazy over you, and how could you not relish in the idea of two hot men with matching accents fighting over you? I would be bathing in that attention if it were me!” He laughed.

Emma rolled her eyes, “I just don’t want conflict; it is messy, and I don’t need that.”

August spotted Killian walking down the hall towards them and eyed him, and Killian stopped and leaned against the wall listening.

“I love you Em, I will be here for you if there is a dumpster fire at the end, but I have to tell you I don’t think that is what this is, or where this is going.” He said and stroked her cheek.

“You don’t?” she asked him in a soft voice.

“No, my dear, I don’t. It’s time you let Killian be your morning dance partner, and I will visit whenever you want me to so long as the Sherriff won’t be writing me a speeding ticket or keep a holding cell empty for me” Emma laughed and nodded.

August almost asked her if she loved Killian, but knowing he was listening wasn’t fair to Emma. He wouldn’t betray Emma like that, and he probably knew before Emma even realized it herself. “Hey slugger!” he called out to Killian.

Emma spun and saw Killian. She grabbed the Tylenol and the water, and he winced as he smiled and kissed her, “Thanks” he said and moved to the couch.

August clapped his hands together, “Well as you have Florence Nightingale here for your sponge baths, I do believe I should get going.” Emma looked up at him sadly.

“No Swan.” August said without Emma having to say a word. Her lip trembled, and August wiggled his finger, “you manipulative little duckling. No.”

Emma stood and wrapped her arms around her brother, “I love you. Will you come back soon?” and he nodded embracing her. She went to the kitchen and was grabbing more water.

He bent next to Killian “Take care of her” he said lowly.

Killian nodded, “I will. Thank you.”

August stared at him with an arrogant smirk “I’m serious. Take care of her or let her go. Don’t hurt her, or those torture methods will be used on you and the Sherriff both. I am holding you responsible for her wellbeing entirely.”

Killian swallowed, “the theatrics are overkill” and August smiled clapping him on the shoulder. “See you soon Jones” and waved, closing the doors behind him.

August made his way down the steps, spotting her bug, and slipped the envelope out of his coat pocket, placing it into her glove compartment, it should be enough he thought and quietly closed the door of her car, exiting the shop.

Emma watched him walk to his car and waved to him from the balcony as he backed out. He blew her a kiss, and she blew one back. She was going to miss him; she hated the goodbyes with him.

She looked at Killian who had a bag of peas draped across his eyes and cheek. She lightly rubbed his head, “are you ok?” she asked.

“Aye.” Killian responded.

“Thank you. For defending me, and August, just thank you. I am sorry you and Graham fought” she said grimly.

Killian removed the makeshift ice pack and looked at her, he cheek bruised. “I knew what I was doing Emma. It had to come out or we weren’t going to move forward” and she looked at him curiously.

“You purposefully antagonized Graham? Why?” she asked incredulously.

“We have been friends for a long time. I knew his jealousy ran deep, so I needled him until he blew, let it out. Him and I will patch it up, but it had to happen. I just didn’t know how you were involved exactly until today” he said and placed the peas back over his eye and cheek.

Emma heard her phone chirp; she went to it and saw Ruby texted her.

RL: “What the fuck Emma?” Emma sighed, and dialed.

“Emma?” Ruby asked.

“Hey Ruby” she replied.

“What is going on? Graham looks like someone hit him with a bat, said it was you. What happened?” She asked.

Emma sighed, “August and I came back from grabbing coffee, and saw Jones and the Sherriff pummeling each other in the lot. Graham said some shit about me, so I cracked him in the face for it. I only hit him once, Jones did the rest.”

Ruby cackled, “Ah, you were just the thing I was hoping for. We were too boring before” she said excitedly.

Emma huffed out a laugh “I live to be your entertainment Ruby.”

“As you should. So August is gone?” She sounded sad Emma noticed.

“Yeah, just left, but he will visit soon” Emma said.

“Ok, well I will drop by with some food later for you guys” Ruby said, and Emma agreed hanging up.

“So, the whole town knows?” Killian asked.

“Appears that way” Emma sighed.

“It isn’t your fault Emma” he said.

“Feels like it is” she said.

“Why duckling?” he asked.

Emma blinked. “Augusts nickname?”

“You can tell me only if you want to” he said.

“We were both scrawny kids when we ran. He used to read me the ugly duckling when I was smaller, he said I was the ugly duckling who believed she was a Swan. I legally changed my name to Swan when I was 18. The nickname stuck” she said quietly.

“I see. I think you’re beautiful” he mused.

She smiled, he was bloodied, and cut, defending her, he loved her. She recognized the unfamiliar twitch in her heart. She was in love with him too, but she wasn’t going to say that if she could help it. She leaned down next to him and placed a light kiss to his other cheek, and he smirked. “Get some sleep” she said, and he nodded.

Emma grabbed her purse off the stool in the garage and walked into town. She was going to find the Sherriff right now and end this today.

She went into the diner, and Ruby looked up surprised. “Hey slugger” she laughed at Emma.

“I need Grahams address” Emma said.

“He is at the station” and pointed kitty corner where his Jeep was.

“See you later, text first” she smirked.

“We need a sheriff, remember that” Ruby called out as she walked out.

Emma climbed the stairs and pushed open the door. “Graham” she called out.

“Here” came his voice and he was laid on a cot in a holding cell with an eye pack over his eye. Emma smiled satisfactorily.

“We are going to talk; I am going to talk, and you are going to listen. Understood?” She asked, and he nodded not moving the ice pack but struggled as he sat up.

“I don’t know why you hate me so much, or why you went after Killian today; you have been an asshole since the moment that you saw us together, and it is none of your business. I want to know why, because your friend is hurting, and you caused it. You really want to throw your best friend away like that? she said.

Graham lowered the ice pack, his orbital bone purple and swelling. He looked at her, “you have a wicked right hook” he said, Emma laughed.

“I was-am jealous. But you didn’t deserve me to say anything about you, I don’t even know you. I just knew there was something about you the moment I saw you. Killian- he doesn’t deserve you Emma” he said sounding resolved.

“You don’t even know me Graham. I am flattered, but I am with Killian, I am happy with Killian. I don’t know what else to say” she said.

He nodded, raising the ice pack back up and laid back down. “Well, that is my problem, not yours Emma” he said.

“Are you going to fix it with Killian? You guys cant be that dumb to fight over a stranger and throw away your friendship” she said.

“Jones and I will fix it Emma. You and I, no hard feeling I hope” and she laughed sarcastically in response.

“Sure, right” she said.

Graham looked over at her, “I am serious Emma. I deserved your punch. I am putting my feelings aside; I just haven’t felt this way in a really long time, you caught me off guard and I had hoped that maybe I made you feel something too. I just hope we can be friends at some point if you’re staying” he said and turned his head back away from her.

“Are you going to continue talking shit about me? Because that isn’t fair to me, or to Killian” she said resolutely.

“I have no hard feelings over anything today with either of you. I mean it. Going forward I wont either, but with a hook like that I suggest you apply for the deputy position” he said quietly with a smirk.

Emma sat next to him on the cot and nudged him in his rib which made him wince, “okay. Apology accepted. And no thanks on the job” she said and put her hand over his.

Graham smiled at her “he is a lucky guy. I hope he knows that.”

“He does, I am lucky too. He surprised me just as much.” She stood, walking out of the station without waiting for his response, heading back towards the garage.

Her phone chirped; it was August. “Look in your glovebox. JIC.”

Emma made her way toward her car and popped the glovebox open. She opened the white envelope, counted it and laughed.

“Five grand? You think I need bail money just in case?” she replied.

“You never know, and I didn’t want you stuck. Love you.”

She smiled and typed out “I love you too. Visit soon!”

She made her way up to the loft, and Killian was sound asleep. She went to the closet and tucked the envelope in one of her bags and zipped the pocket. August was always looking out, she thought and smiled. She grabbed her book and went to sit on the balcony while Killian slept it off.

Killian woke up, and everything hurt. He pushed himself up and noticed Emma out on the balcony. He smiled, despite the ache over his entire body it was worth it. She was absolutely worth it. He thought to this morning, to Augusts words to her. He wanted to be her morning dance partner, see that side of her, and he was fine with sharing her with August like that.

Killian also understood by August acknowledging him earlier, letting him hear what he said, he was saying to both of them. Screw Graham and his self-righteousness, he thought. He made his way out the door and sat next to Emma, and she smiled up at him, cupping his cheek.

“Are you ok?” She asked as he sat and kissed him lightly, trying to avoid the cut on his lip. He nodded at her. Emma swallowed, he looked incredibly sexy all roughed up. She swung her legs over and stood grabbing his hand. Killian looked at her confused, “Come on Rocky” and led him toward the bedroom.

She dropped her skirt and pulled her top up and off. Killian’s eyes darkened, and he winced when he accidentally bit the cut on his lip. Emma stepped into his arms, kissing all the cuts and bruises on his face. He caressed her back, and unhooked her bra, his hands trailing down her exposed skin, and she cupped his cheek, kissing him as soft as she could.

He moaned, and his hands flexed and cupped her ass, lifting her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Emma tried to not grab onto him too hard but giggled when he dropped her on the mattress.

She leaned up on her elbows watching him strip off his tee shirt and drop his jeans and boxer briefs to the floor, chewing her lip as she watched. He knelt over her, his blue eyes burning into hers and leaned down to kiss her, his tongue stroking hers, as she gently cupped his jaw.

He leaned back, pulling her panties clear off of her, and she nudged him to lay back, hovering over him on her forearms, her long blonde curls a curtain around his face as she kissed him. He tangled his fingers in the curls, bringing her closer, licking deeper into her mouth as his free hand gripped her narrow hip.

She moaned softly and he pulled back looking into her green eyes, he saw fire and lust breathing in them as she gazed at him. “I need you” she said, and he swallowed, nodding.

He nudged her hip and she scooted back, hovering over his cock, and she gripped it in her small hand, angling him before she sank down on him. Killian groaned at the sensation, how wet she was, and Emma leaned forward keeping her weight off of his chest and kissed him, sliding up and down his cock.

“Fuck” he said tightening his grip on her neck and hip. She kissed him lightly and her eyes stayed on his, he was lost in her, the sensation of her surrounding him, flooding through him. He leaned up, his cock hardened, stiffer than ever before.

The pressure point that Emma hit had so much blood flowing to his dick that his brain began to feel fuzzy, his head light. “Emma” he growled out and she moaned in response speeding her pace.

He traced his palm over her stomach, his thumb rubbing at her clit just above where they were joined, and Emma’s body shook, a tremor shot through her.

Emma was lost in the sensation; she was trying to hold back her weight not placing any more of it on him than what was needed. His voice cracked as he cried her name and she arched, hitting that spot deep inside her, and he continued pushing her higher with every swipe of his thumb.

Emma bit her lip, and began squeezing her tits, rolling her nipples as she rode him hard. She felt her orgasm coming, it crackling through her veins like a riptide, and Killian pinched her clit and she exploded screaming out his name as it took over her whole body.

Emma clamped down around him with her orgasm, her legs shaking and her hands gripping her tits as she slowed her pace, and his rushed out tearing through him. It was so intense it sent his hips arching into her, his hands holding her still as he pulsed deep inside of her.

He heaved for air, his lungs burning. Emma looked wrecked, and so bloody gorgeous. Her nipples rosy from her attention, the swells bouncing as she gasped for air. She rose off of him and laid next to him on her side smiling.

He rolled to the side, and he stroked her cheek. She placed her hand over his and turned it kissing his palm. He smiled and just laid there looking at her, don’t say it Jones, don’t do it, “I love you.” Emma smiled at him widely and her cheeks grew pink.

He knew by the look in her face she felt it too, but he was ok with her not saying it back. When she finally let him win her heart, it would be worth the wait to hear those words spill from her perfect lips. He kissed her forehead and pulled the sheet over them as they laid there staring at each other, wide smiles and she snuggled into him gently. He kissed her hair, letting exhaustion claim him.

Emma sat there, not surprised completely, but still a little shocked. He just said it, like it was the easiest thing in the world. He never stopped surprising her, and she believed him when he said those words to her.

She felt the same, but it wasn’t as easy for her, he seemed to understand that. The fact that he didn’t look sad or disappointed at her lack of ability to be as open made her fall even harder for him. She snuggled as close as she could without hurting him and felt Killian kiss her hair before she closed her eyes for a nap.

@hookedmom​​​ @xsajx​​​ @kymbersmith-90​​​ @kmomof4​​​ @katie-dub​​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​​ @lassluna​​​ @pirateherokillian​​​ @teamhook​​ @stahlop​​​ @elizabeethan​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​ @therooksshiningknight​​​ @jennjenn615​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​ @killianswannn​​​ @stories-enchanted​​​ @eleveneitherway​​​ @girl-in-a-tiny-box​​​ @withheartfulloflove​​​ @kday426​​​ @lyssapup27​​​ @swanlovato​​​ @kaoslikesstuff @djlbg​​​ @kristi555​​​ @laschatzi​​​ @xarandomdreamx​​​ @lkles08​​​ @wyntereyez​​​ @bubblegum1425​​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @yasbio2015​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @winterbaby89​​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @let-it-raines​​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​ @searchingwardrobes​​ @dreamingdreamsalways​​ @oncechicagolove​​ @andiirivera​​ @vvbooklady1256​​ @gingerchangeling​​ @everything-person​​ @klynn-stormz​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​ @vampcoffeegyrl23​​ @enchanted-swans​​ @cassy1511 @ohmakemeahercules​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @bluewildcatfanatic​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​ @demisexualemmaswan​​ @lavenderbudd​​ @grimmswan​​ @spartanguard​​ @flslp87​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @sarahpaq08 @thisonesatellite​​ @captainswan21​​ @zaharadessert​​ @mariakov81​​ @snowbellewells​​ @xouatxcs​​ @kiwistreetswan​​ @batana54​​ @nadine200179​​ @probalicious17​​ @courtorderedcake​​ @julesep3026​​ @jackieorioncat​​ @whatthehell102082​​ @xemmaloveskillianx​​ @jarienn972​​ @sthonour​​ @linda8084​​ @carpedzem​​ @pirateprincesslena​​ @daxx04​​ @winterbythesea​​ @artistic-writer​​ @scientificapricot​​ @cocohook38​​ @wisfan3000​​ @chrisilybrooke @pcrcabcth @captainswan4life85​​ @molly958​​ @kingofmyheart14​​ @badwolfreturns​​ @itsfridaysomewhere​​ @mcakers @chamomileandmint @fallingforthecaptain​​ @lovethelifeyoulive1106 @onceratheart18​​ @strangestarlighttree​​ @omgmarvelous​​ @justanother-unluckysoul @anothersworld

[blueskrugs]

42nd Street Shenanigans

an incomplete list of all the madness cast and crew got up to when we did 42nd Street my senior year, in no particular order

hannah i hope you see this because I literally don’t know what your url is now wait @logsted

the time someone discovered Michael (one of our leads) had been in an episode of Chicago Fire

when someone found a youtube video of our director eating a kiwi with the skin on and it spread like wildfire among cast and crew (it became a meme within hours)

Michael being extremely dedicated to the meme and buying a kiwi to eat

whenever someone made a mistake you’d hear “1...2...3...BOI”

Daniel doing mic checks in character and singing: Whitney Houston, Country Roads, 16 Going on 17, the Friends theme song

creepy dancing santa on stage in the little theater

having to rescue stage crew from home depot because they couldn’t fit everything they bought in their car

one of the boys throwing the giant dime like a frisbee at strike and knocking out a ceiling tile in the gym

all of us dancing around backstage during lullaby of broadway

everyone dancing to footloose at strike

Sam kissing Anna during a scene and then awkwardly making eye contact with the assorted crew members huddled backstage watching...THREE TIMES

Sam having to throw a pair of shoes offstage to Stewie every night and the rest of us trying to stay quiet while we died

Anna’s lucky scarf being scrap fabric we found at Joann’s 

cutting up hula hoops for props

6+ hour rehearsal the same day I ran a half marathon. I fell asleep on the gym floor. 

assembled cast and crew chanting “Fuck nick” (our terrible director) at the afterparty. michael backing up the stairs in fear and not returning

our french teacher asking us how the show was going and all five of us going “well....”

everyone smacking Michael in the face to get his mic tape to stay on

hannah, gabriella and I ordering a bloomin onion from outback for dinner one night and literally nothing else

a set piece conucssing a freshman

Sam’s voice crack every night during lullaby

Ken the tech guy basically adopting the entire cast and crew out of protectiveness

that video I have of Sam dancing backstage and then visibly going back into actor mode

[lovelyirony]

stony, 14, “things you said after you kissed me”?

Steve’s not really a talker. Tony knows this. Steve prefers to act rather than speak, and Tony’s not really going to argue, especially when Steve’s so good at actions. 

But when they’re alone, Steve will talk a bit. Just a few compliments here and there. Some fun little anecdotes about his day. Tony loves it, honestly. He doesn’t tell Steve he does, just hums and works his way around.  

The kisses are always spread out over the day, never at once. That’s how they prefer it. 

It starts in the morning. Steve wakes Tony up at six in the morning–a shitty time, but Tony does put up with it for kisses–and he says “Good morning, love. I’m going on my run, I’ll text you when I’m coming back.” And then kiss. Tony likes it. 

He can’t go back to sleep, and he loves to make breakfast. So he’ll usually get started on Steve’s breakfast, which is basically cooking for two. Four slices of toast, four eggs, two strips of bacon, (he’s not making more, Steve doesn’t need that much) and a bowl of fruit. He also makes coffee, which is more for him. 

At around six forty, Steve will come back, shower, and drop a kiss on Tony’s temple. 

“Run was good. I got to pet three dogs.” 

“More than yesterday, babe, good for you.” Steve grins, nabbing his plate. “No more bacon?” 

“No more bacon,” Tony says. “If I have to watch what I’m eating, so do you. Besides, you know you can make more, lazy bones.” Steve rolls his eyes. He pours the coffee for Tony, with the required tablespoon of cream and another of sugar. 

The next kiss is when Steve drops by SI on his lunch break. The new PA, Gilda, lets him in with no thought. Just waves him through. 

“Missed you,” Steve says. “Brought lunch.” Usually, it’s something he made before he went to work. Sometimes it’s something from a shop that Tony likes. Either way, wonderful. 

“I saw you at breakfast.” 

“And yet, not until lunch. Time differences, babe.” Tony likes the pet names. Steve lives for them. He uses the usual ones–honey, babe, sweetheart, darling, love, all of that. Tony loves it. It means more to him than he knows, perhaps because Steve doesn’t say things unless he really means them. 

Lunch passes quickly, with Steve being late and the suit ruffled a little bit always. Natasha says she and Maria always make fun of him. 

Next kiss is usually a text from either of them. Both love their work, and so Steve may be staying thirty minutes later or Tony will. (They set a limit, obviously. Whether or not it’s actually followed is usually up to the urgency.) Steve or Tony will text that they’re late, a kiss at the end. Still nice, if a bit artificial. 

Dinnertime is Steve’s time to cook. He loves doing it. He usually sets Dean Martin’s music up, singing alone to the music as Tony teases him over the pronunciation of some of the Italian. Steve gets a kiss and a question about work. 

“Work is fine, just working with new recruits,” Steve says. “Some of ‘em are really nice, so I’m sending them Hill’s way.” 

“You can see her name, Steve. Just because she likes to act like she knows all doesn’t mean she does.” 

“She knows about the incident of us and office room J.” 

“Shit.” 

Steve laughs, shaking out some more seasoning for the meat. He hums along to some Sinatra as he drops the broccoli onto the cutting board. 

“What do you want me to do, honey?” 

“Nothing,” Steve says.��“Nothing except give me a kiss. You got breakfast. I got dinner.” 

“And you get me lunch. You technically get two meals, which means I have to make it up somehow.” 

“Love doesn’t get made up, it just exists,” Steve reminds him, dropping another kiss on him. “And you are by far the best existence to me.” Tony snorts, rolling his eyes. 

“You geek, quit being so sappy. People might think we’re in love or something.” 

“Oh we’ve had no idea!” Bruce calls from the hallway. “No idea that you two are the grossest married couple in existence!” Steve lets out a bellowing laugh, head thrown back. 

“Thanks Bruce!” he yells back. 

They eat dinner together, talking about the rest of their day. Tony had a couple of international meetings which went well. Tony’s working on renewable energy for other countries, running into some problem with oil companies and zoning. 

“Want me to fight the oil companies?” Steve says. “I can do that.” Tony laughs. 

“As much as I would love that, I don’t want to bail you out of jail. Besides, we have a movie premiere to go to next week, and you still need to get fitted for the suit.” Steve makes a noise of disapproval. 

“Why can’t I just wear one from my closet? I doubt people would notice if it was the same black one.” 

“This one is a bit more…daring. How do you feel about purple?” 

“…interested. Fitting tomorrow then? I’m off work at two.” 

“Definitely.” 

The rest of the night is pretty boring, as far as nights go. Tony listens to a message Peter sent him about his Spider-Man patrol, and Steve texts Bucky about the mission he’s on. It must not be too high-stakes, because he sends snapchat videos of Clint dancing to Whitney Houston in the middle of a blizzard. 

“They’re both ridiculous,” Tony says. He’s wearing readers while he has one of his cheesy books with him. He and Pepper have a reading group, and right now they’re on murder-mystery books with cheesy titles. Steve’s catching up on a word search app. 

The last kiss at night. When they’re both in bed and Tony yawns for the first time. Steve will shut off the lamp. 

“You don’t have to go to bed, dear.” 

“I know, but you’re sleepy. And besides, going to bed with you is never too bad.” He gets one last kiss. 

“Love you always, Tony.” 

“Love you forever, Steve.” 

(It is a pretty good kiss. The words just add.) 

[dialovers-hell]

Anonymous said to dialovers-hell: How would the Sakamakis and Mukamis wake up their S/O in the morning? *PART 1*

Sakamaki:

A/N: I hope that the person who sent this request doesn’t mind but i decided to split this into 2 separate posts so they wouldn’t take so long to complete!! Plus this kinda turned into a morning routine for each of the boys so...

Shu - On the rare occasion that you would actually sleep in for longer than him, the blond would most likely wait for a while before waking you up. During this time he would take a moment to study your figure and take in as much of your scent as possible. Quite mornings like these are much appreciated as they give him a chance to have some alone time without him technically being alone, so he takes this chance to listen to his current music preference at the moment and just bask in your serene presence. Once he’s finally decided that he’s content with himself, he’ll gently press his lips against yours, slightly biting and pulling at your lower lip to make sure that you would wake up. After an exchange of lewd and teasing comments, you both head into the bathroom and take a nice relaxing shower… which sometimes leads to more depending on the day.

Reiji - Prim and proper as always, waking up was the exact same routine, every single day (yes that includes the weekend). He’s the one to get up first every morning without fail since he wants to limit the time of you seeing him “disheveled” to be as short as possible. However, don’t think that this gives you an excuse to sleep in for much longer since it takes him barely any time to get ready in the first place. He’ll firmly shake you awake and call out your name to ensure that you’ve gotten the message that it’s time to get up. You waste no time knowing how annoyed he’ll get if you end up behind schedule and head straight to the bathroom in order to get ready for the day. By the time you’re done, he’s already left the room to check on his experiments in the lab without so much as a good morning kiss. He does try to keep his mornings straightforward, but he knows that he has to add a touch of sweetness to keep you happy. So although this routine may seem mundane and tedious to keep up with, you have to admit that seeing a tray with tea and biscuits accompanied by a different species flower every morning, along with a note card describing the characteristics of that day’s particular flower, was one of the highlights of your day.

Ayato - Contrary to popular belief, this guy is a firm believer in waking up early every morning (he mentioned something about some Mark Wahlberg doing the same thing and has since become obsessed??). He usually starts his mornings with a run around the gardens of the mansion and does some work-outs to maintain what he describes as his “god-like physique”. After that, he’ll head into the shower for a good 10 minutes where he secretly likes to practice his singing skills, hoping that he will, in fact, wake up one day with the voice of Whitney Houston. The second he’s out of the shower, its showtime! He’ll march right over to you and shake you up, dripping your face with the remaining water that has clung onto his hair, nagging at you to wake up so he could finish off his routine by having you tame the damp mess on his head. Having you blow dry his hair for him was a daily thing, but it's not like you minded. Something was relaxing about your ritual, be it the white noise or warm air coming from the machine, but it was therapeutic. He’d then sit impatiently, watching you get ready so that the two of you could go down to the dining room and scarf down some breakfast.

Laito - Well there are many many ways that he could wake you up, but for now, I’m going to focus on a NORMAL day (submit a request if you want to know the other version though ;) ). He’d start the day off by cuddling with you for as long as he possibly could. Whispers of sweet and naughty nothings would go cascading into your ear as he tries to entice you into skipping school and just take the day for yourselves. His hands would glide up and down your body, almost as if he’s trying to memorize every curve and bump. His warm embrace sure is one hell of a way for you to wake up. But being the responsible person that you are, you decline his offer day after day knowing the effect that ditching a day of school would have on you. That’s when you would force yourself out of bed, Laito trailing closely behind as you make your way into the shower.

Kanato - This boy’s sleep routine is hella jacked up, but that comes to no surprise considering the amount of sugar that he consumes on a daily basis. As a result though, you often end up waking up and suffering through his insomnia with him. This usually leads to him waking up before you pretty much every single day seeing as he’s a vampire and can function on less sleep than you would be able to. Depending on his mood though, his method of waking you up can vary immensely between sweet and sour. On a bad day, incessant whines would fill the room and rudely awake you from your slumber as he commanded you to pay attention to him and that you should be entertaining him rather than be lazing around. In contrast, a good day would include him studying the look of peacefulness on your face, admiring your lifeless beauty which he craved so dearly. He’d sit like this for hours until you finally wake up to see a pair of lilac orbs staring into what felt like your soul.

Subaru - He tries his best not to disturb you when you’re asleep but he somehow always manages to knock something over while getting ready. Sometimes you’ll suddenly wake up to the sound of a thud on the floor, only to be met with a nervous expression taking over his blushing face. But on the times when you remain asleep, he gazes at your face, finally gaining the confidence to study your features now that you’re unconscious. Creepy as it may seem, he stares at you out of love. He spends so much time avoiding eye contact that he never really gets a chance to just think to himself of how pretty you are. He’d then leave to tend the garden for the remainder of the morning, but you always wake up to a fresh rose on your bedside table to wish you a good morning.

[reddielibrary]

My lonely heart calls

Prompt: “Listen, I know I originally came over here to talk about the noise but OMG you are so high right now like how are you even standing so no objections because I’m taking care of you until you’re sober" AU

Written by: Alexis | @quixoticquest

Word count: 3903

*click title to read on ao3

The eighties had not been a fun time for Eddie Kaspbrak. In fact, he preferred to forget the decade altogether. The local top forty radio station begged to differ, though, and wouldn’t you know, that’s what most people wanted to listen to when he was chauffeuring them around in a limousine. Jackson, Collins, Benatar and Gabriel all competing to make Eddie relive the worst years of his life. His only reprieve came at home, in the privacy of his apartment, where he was free to listen to whatever he wanted, eat cereal for dinner, and turn in at nine thirty promptly.

Unless it was Thursday night.

Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down Letting the days go by, water flowing underground Into the blue again, after the money's gone Once in a lifetime, water flowing underground

Eddie groaned, throwing himself back against his couch. It had been like this for three weeks now. Like clockwork. Every Thursday, about an hour after he got home, the music would start in the next apartment over. Some eighties-loving sociopath and his endless collection of synth-saturated music that had come out when Eddie was a kid.

The only reason he hadn’t complained yet was because he was new to the apartment complex. Eddie had gained a reputation at his old place for being the overbearing neighbor, and he hadn’t even realized until he’d called the landlord over a party full of people not even five years younger than him. He wondered what kind of crusty curmudgeon he’d turned into, at the ripe old age of twenty-four - also, why wasn’t he getting invited to parties like that?

This time, though, it was personal. There was no reason to be blasting music, no matter what awful decade, on a weeknight. Noise curfew wasn’t in effect for another few hours, but Eddie had time to kill, and he couldn’t hear Seinfeld.

He marched himself over to the adjacent apartment, fists balled and ready for knocking. Here, the Talking Heads’s redundant lyrics were louder than ever.

Same as it ever was Same as it ever was Same as it ever was Same as it-

Eddie pounded on the door, just hard enough to drown out the words, but not the thumping bass. By the end of it, his knuckles ached as he cradled his hand to his chest, but the distinct sound of approaching footsteps could be heard from inside, so he had succeeded either way.

The door swung open, and a full frontal barrage of music hit Eddie square in the face - right alongside a thick cloud of earthy musk.

“Hey, neighbor, what can I do ya for?” the tenant drawled, just loud enough to be heard as he pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand.

And you may ask yourself Where does that highway go to? And you may ask yourself Am I right? Am I wrong? And you may say to yourself,

"My God! What have I done?" Eddie wondered.

His mother’s voice came screeching from some dark corner of his mind. WEED?! In my house?! Not that this was Eddie’s house, or even his apartment, or that he had ever touched the stuff. More likely than anything, he’d be dead if Sonia Kaspbrak had caught him high, stoned, or otherwise.

“Are you okay?” Eddie pronounced over the song, feeling his priorities shift from angry neighbor to medic. Just the sight of the guy - red-rimmed eyes magnified by dorky specs, leaning dangerously in the doorway - was enough to have all Eddie’s deeply ingrained warning bells going off.

“Better than ever, now that you’re here. Finally it’s a party.” Neighbor dude grinned so wide Eddie thought his cheeks might split open. “Do you want to come in? I’ve got some chips and Fanta - ooh, sorry, Orange Crush. Hope that’s not a dealbreaker.”

“Thanks very much.” Eddie barrelled past without much ceremony - thinking maybe he shouldn’t be so eager to act like he owned the place, but he had been invited inside after all.

Better yet, he could turn down the music himself.

“I’m Richie,” the stoned idiot stated as he shuffled down the front hall, while Eddie searched for a stereo. “I think I helped you bring in a box of baking supplies when you moved in.”

“Oh yeah, I remember.” Eventually Eddie pulled his shirt collar when the skunky stench became a bit too much. “I’m Eddie.”

“Nice to meetcha proper, Eddie. Glad to put a face to a KitchenAid mixer to a name.”

Eddie eventually found the big stereo system behind the couch, complete with speakers and a big honking volume dial that he used to turn the music down far enough that he could barely hear the Huey Lewis song that came on next.

“Hey hey hey! What are you doing?” Richie demanded, landing hard enough on the couch to send it teetering in Eddie’s direction for a single, terrifying moment. “You can’t just waltz into a man’s home and turn off his music! Didn’t your mama teach you manners?”

“It’s too loud,” Eddie answered, feeling himself slow his words as he stared down those bloodshot eyes (as if he was talking to a non-English speaker, and not a stoner). “That’s why I came over here, to ask if you’d turn it down.”

“Well I don’t have to turn it off. Noise curfew isn’t until ten.”

Eddie sighed, and reached for the dial again. He cranked the song as loud as he dared.

Don't need money, don't take fame Don't need no credit card to ride this train It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes But it might just save your life That's the power of love

“Is that okay?” he asked.

“I can live with that.” Richie flopped away to lie on his back, humming along to the instrumental section. “Hey, do you want to smoke?”

“No,” Eddie said immediately - which made him realize his next order of business.

“Actually,” he went on, rounding the couch in search of paraphernalia, “where’s your, uh, blunt? Joint? Bong?”

“Uhhhhh.” Richie stared at him for a couple seconds, and finally pointed over toward the window at the back of the apartment. “My bowl is over there.”

“Thanks.”

The glass tube didn’t look anything like what Eddie was used to from pot (not that he had very much experience), but there was definitely marijuana in it, smoldering remnants releasing dank smoke into the evening air. Eddie opened the window wider, dumped out the contents of the bowl onto the fire escape, and pocketed the thing.

Eddie’s experience with marijuana began and ended catching a whiff of it off certain students in college. He knew sometimes his friend Bill smoked, but other than that Eddie had, and wanted, nothing to do with it.

He had, however, helped his friends through drunken stupors and hangovers on many occasions. This couldn’t be that different, right? They were both drugs. He’d just stay to make sure Richie didn’t drown in his own vomit or anything.

“I don’t think you should smoke anymore tonight,” Eddie said as he rounded the couch again.

“Is that so?” he asked, a smirk curling into one corner of his mouth.

“Yes. You’re high as a kite, I don’t want you to go overboard.”

Richie snorted hard enough to sound like it hurt, and rolled toward the floor, laughing like a hyena. Eddie stood watching, bewildered.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll stay in me quarters, captain,” Richie answered when he had recovered, taking on some kind of pirate voice as he saluted Eddie. “Won’t be goin’ overboard this time, I’ll keep me sea legs alright.”

“...Okay,” Eddie uttered, deciding he was better off not unpacking that one. Instead, he sank into the recliner next to the couch. Both pieces of furniture did a pretty good job of framing the tiny area that constituted the den.

“Do you want to watch TV?” Eddie asked. “Seinfeld is on.”

Before Richie could answer, The Power of Love gave way to a new song: chant, and a guitar solo ripping right on after. The toked idiot scrambled to sit.

Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on Livin' like a lover with a radar phone Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp

“Demolition woman, can I be your man?” Richie screeched in a tone matching the singer’s, echoing himself as he air guitared with more soul than Eddie could ever dream of having.

“I hate this song,” he grumbled to himself, thinking Richie wouldn’t hear over his own rock fantasy, and the actual track.

He was wrong.

Richie gasped. “This song’s awesome!”

“The singer sounds like he’s whining,” Eddie griped, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Joe Elliott is singing his heart out. And it’s about sex, which is like, arguably more awesome than the song itself.”

I'm hot, sticky sweet From my head to my feet, yeah

“Sticky sweet from my head to my feet,” Eddie repeated dully. “How moving.”

Not to mention, Eddie wasn’t all that interested in sex with a woman to begin with, demolition or otherwise.

Richie waved his comments away with his hands, only to twist over the edge of the couch. He managed to reach the stereo, and skipped to the next song.

I've been hearing your heartbeat inside of me I keep your photo right beside my bed Livin' in a world of fantasies I can't get you out of my head

“Oh.” Eddie sat back in his chair, arms crossed. “I don’t mind Whitney Houston.”

“Don’t mind.” Richie huffed dramatically. “Is there anything you like or do you judge everything on a scale of how much you hate it?”

“I just don’t like eighties music, okay?” Eddie stated. “It’s not my thing. I like what’s popular now. Whitney’s best stuff came out this decade.”

“Well what is it? Not a fan of synthesizer stuff? Don’t like rock in general? You more of a nineties divas kind of guy?”

“No, it’s just not my thing. I guess bad associations and stuff.”

Richie tilted his head, propped up on his hand, on the armrest. “What kinds of associations?”

Eddie scoffed. “That’s a whole decade’s worth of explanation.”

“Well we got time to kill,” Richie replied, sweeping his arms around the empty apartment in a grand gesture. “Just try to keep it under a decade, I got work tomorrow.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, tonguing at his cheek to avoid a smile. Was he really about to unload on a stoned stranger why he didn’t like a particular type of music?

I get so emotional, baby Every time I think of you I get so emotional, baby Ain't it shocking what love can do?

Well, he was high off his ass. Maybe he wouldn’t remember.

“I guess I just don’t like the eighties in general,” Eddie explained, shifting to tuck his legs closer. “My mom was kind of a bitch, and I got bullied a lot. So whenever I hear any of these songs I just remember long car rides to the doctors or getting yelled at, or hiding from assholes at the arcade. Soundtrack to the worst years of my life.”

“Dude, I feel,” Richie said, a hand flying out to put on top of Eddie’s. He short-circuited for a second, and yanked his hand back to tuck under his chin. “But that’s why I like the music! It distracted me from the shit going on in my life.”

Richie jumped up on the couch, sneakers and all. Eddie jolted upright when he heard a dangerous creak of springs.

“If I was getting reamed out by my folks, or dealing with pea brain jocks at school, I knew I could always go to my room and turn on the radio at the end of the day.” Richie moved back and forth to the beat, probably stuck in some memory of being twelve and jumping up and down on his bed. “Queen, and Bowie, and Journey, and Bon Jovi raving about the underdog. It’s not all sex and love, my friend, it’s about finding your voice and powering through!”

He dove behind the couch hard enough to shake a couple shelves, and Eddie rushed to his feet to see if Richie had killed himself. But he was fine, skipping through the songs until he found what he was looking for. A rhythmic baseline resounded from the speakers.

“Ice Ice Baby?” Eddie asked after a moment, lip curled in disdain.

Richie shot to his feet. “You’re really pushing it.” He began to bob his head, mumbling along to the song, and Eddie realized he was an idiot.

Pressure! pushing down on me Pressing down on you, no man ask for Under pressure, that burns a building down Splits a family in two Puts people on streets

Richie babbled the interlude of gibberish with the singer, snapping his fingers to the beat as he gently herded Eddie back around the couch. It took him a second to realize the stoned jackass was trying to dance with him.

“No, Richie, that’s okay-”

“It's the terror of knowing what the world is about,” Richie sang, just about cornering Eddie at the coffee table. “Watching some good friends screaming ‘Let me out!’ Pray tomorrow gets me higher-”

“I pray tomorrow gets you sober,” Eddie proclaimed. Richie didn’t seem to hear him though. He was just about back to his bum-bum-bums and dee-da-dos.

The beat was pretty catchy, Eddie decided. Which was the case with a lot of eighties music, whether he liked it or not. There was a reason Vanilla Ice had sampled the bassline.

It couldn’t hurt, he also decided, if he nodded a little to the music. Richie seemed to like that, and mirrored Eddie’s awkward movements with a lot more gesticulation.

Even as he wondered whether or not he should be letting Richie move around so much, Eddie felt himself relax enough to move a little more, as much as he allowed himself without shaking the foundation. If he forgot all his obligations for a second, and his crummy childhood, then it was easy to get lost.

Can't we give ourselves one more chance?

“Why can't we give love that one more chance?” Richie caterwauled.

Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love Give love, give love, give love, give love, give love?

They danced like dumbasses with no rhythm for as long as it took several more tracks to play on the stereo. Richie knew the words better than Eddie could ever hope to, and his voice wasn’t that great, but Eddie was happy to let him wear himself out all the same.

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go faded out to nothing, the next song came in with a familiar voice, humming and ad libbing to the beat.

“Whitney!” Richie cried with his arms cast wide. “Your favorite!”

Eddie panted, catching his breath. “She’s not my-”

“Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade,” Richie crooned, singing into his fist like there was a microphone. He did a very good job matching the voices each time, even Whitney Houston’s velvety cadence. “Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away!”

He hopped up on the table for his performance, and this time Eddie didn’t try to stop him. Richie kicked magazines every which way as he shimmied and shook, singing his heart out.

Oh, I wanna dance with somebody I wanna feel the heat with somebody Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody-

Suddenly Richie thrust the pantomimed microphone up to Eddie’s lips. He was just lost enough in the music to open his mouth in time.

“With somebody who loves me!” Eddie exclaimed, watching as Richie grinned at him, eyes shining behind his glasses.

A second later, the microphone was cast away so that Richie could jump off the table, grabbing Eddie’s hands in exchange. Twisting to and fro, heads thrown back, to the tune of a bangin’ good song.

Doncha wanna dance with me baby? Doncha wanna dance with me boy? Hey doncha wanna dance with me baby?

“What the hell is going on?”

Eddie froze, tripping over his own feet in the process. There was another stranger standing at the foot of the front hall, keys in one hand, looking at them like they’d become a two-headed dancing monstrosity.

“Stanley! Come join us! Dance your fucking heart out!” Richie kept on rocking, but Eddie shuffled away, flushing on his neck as if he’d been caught doing something much worse.

Stanley, Edde figured, huffed, and put his things down to march into the den. “It’s almost noise curfew, Richie. You’re done for the night.” He turned the stereo off completely, much to Richie’s anguish - and, actually, a little bit to Eddie’s.

“Sorry, who are you?” Stanley asked Eddie, looking absolutely unamused.

“Oh - I’m your neighbor,” Eddie offered, wiping a bit of sweat from his hairline.

“Oh yeah. I think we’ve seen each other in the mail room.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Why are you jumping around my apartment though?”

“Uh.” Eddie glanced at Richie - only to find him slumped on the couch, already knocked out. Leaving him all alone to deal with the annoyed roommate.

“He was high,” Eddie tried, motioning to the snoozing lump that had once been a dancing, screaming idiot. “I came to ask him to turn down the music, but I didn’t want him to get hurt or pass out or throw up or anything, so I stuck around.”

“What?” Stanley’s brows furrowed together. “He’s not drunk. He’s high, he’s fine.”

Eddie felt his shoulders drop. “Oh.”

“He eats some crap and listens to his music really loud and eventually tuckers himself out.” Stanley sent an accusatory glance in Richie’s direction. “He’s not really supposed to of course, but I don’t care and as long as he does it when I’m not around then I don’t have to get in trouble for it.”

“Oh,” Eddie repeated. Only to realize something and add, “Okay, but he was jumping around and acting like an idiot, singing and shit. You sure he didn’t drink too?”

Stanley snorted. “That’s just how he is. I think he gets nostalgic or something when he’s high. I got him some eighties hits CDs for his birthday so he’d stay off my CD shelf.”

One more “Oh,” out of Eddie. His gaze drifted to Richie - absolutely out cold on the couch. Safe and sound, apparently. In no immediate danger due to his substance abuse. Eddie felt his neck warm again.

“That was nice of you, though,” Stanley mentioned, plucking Richie’s glasses off his face to fold up and set on the coffee table. “And if he plays his music too loud, don’t hesitate to come over and tell him to cut it out.”

“Thanks,” Eddie murmured.

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I wasn’t really planning on guests tonight...”

“Right.” Eager to get out of Stanley’s hair, Eddie hurried for the front door, offering a quick goodbye before seeing himself out. His own apartment was just a short walk away, and soon he was back in his own home.

His own, utterly silent home.

He didn’t realize until he started undressing for the night that he still had the bowl, when it fell out of the pocket of his jeans.

***

Eddie didn’t get a moment to himself until almost noon, when he found ten minutes between rides to grab a coffee, and sit in a normal chair for a second. If he wasn’t inclined to get promoted soon, he would have dropped chauffeuring weeks ago.

The tinny ringtone of his Nokia sounded in his pocket, and he hurried to answer without spilling his coffee.

“H’llo?” Eddie asked, taking a sip afterward.

“Hey! It’s Richie.”

Eddie managed to swallow before he spit his drink all over the window in front of him.

“How the hell did you get my number?”

“The landlord gave it to me. I told him you borrowed something from me and I needed to get in touch with you soon to get it back.”

“I didn’t borrow-” Eddie clammed up, and remembered the glass tube tucked away in his sock drawer, where he had put it in fear of the landlord doing random apartment checks for some reason.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll bring it back after work. Sorry, I forgot I had it.”

“No problem, no problem. I’ve got a spare laying around somewhere.”

“Oh. Neat.”

There was a beat of silence. Eddie heard Richie cough and sigh dramatically on the other end.

“I had fun last night,” he finally said, while Eddie rubbed his lip raw with his teeth. “I hope Stan didn’t scare you too much. And if he didn’t, maybe you’d want to come over and learn to like eighties music again. We could dance too, if you’re into that. It’s kind of cool to do stuff with someone else, and not just sit there by myself with the stereo going.”

“That sounds like fun,” Eddie said honestly - even if he was a little embarrassed Richie remembered everything after all. Weed really wasn’t alcohol at all, huh.

“And I won’t smoke. I’m not sure I dance better either way, but I guess we’ll find out.”

“Actually…” Eddie glanced around the tiny coffee shop - as if anyone gave a shit who he was, or what he was saying.

Nevertheless, he kept his voice low. “It’s not something I want to make a habit of, but if you were being serious when you offered, I’d like to try it.”

“Smoking pot?” Richie asked after a second.

“Yeah. You seem to know what you’re doing. Maybe just...ventilate the area better.”

“Yeah, okay. We could do it on the fire escape if you’re nervous. I know for a fact that the landlord goes out for bingo Sunday nights, so…”

“Sounds good.”

“Why the sudden interest?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Eddie murmured, feeling warmth creep into his cheeks as he traced the lid of his coffee cup. As if he were a flustered teenager again. “I think I could afford to mellow out a bit. Just for one night, maybe. And learn a thing or two about what it’s like.”

Richie laughed on the other end. “I can jive with that.”

For once, Eddie let the smile twitch onto his face. “Great.”

There was a little more silence, where he couldn’t think of what else to say. Luckily, his pager saved him, letting him know he was off on his next drive.

“Gotta go. Talk to you later, alright?”

“Sure thing.”

Eddie hung up, threw out the rest of his coffee, and drove off to meet his next ride.

“Any music preferences?” he asked, glancing into the rearview mirror as he navigated.

“The local station’s fine.”

Eddie flicked on the radio, turning the volume up so his passengers could hear.

Cause love's such an old fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves This is our last dance This is our last dance This is ourselves

That suddenly familiar bassline came in, bringing Eddie back to the night before. Not his mother’s car, or the arcade. Just Richie’s haphazard dance moves, and the coffee table.

Eddie smiled. Maybe eighties music wasn’t so bad.

[cncoluv]

Can you write where you have a sleepover with the boys?

Warnings: Kissing, Brief Nudity and Gentle Touching

Word Count: 2191

Setting: The Omni Grove Park Inn (Asheville, NC)

There will be another story. I hope you enjoy this one.

You and the boys have been friends since they were in La Banda because your brother was a contestant. It was their last day on tour and they had the idea to meet up with you so you all could catch up. You hadn’t seen them in a while with the tour that was going on, so they asked what you wanted to do. Your answer was a sleepover and watch all of your childhood movies like The Lion King, Tarzan, High School Musical, etc… They all agreed to meet you by Friday morning, about 10 AM, since you did not have class on Friday. They had their final show for the tour tonight so they were not gonna be up to it. They give you the info to the hotel. You put it in your gps and noticed that it would take you approximately 3 hours to drive there. This was not an issue for you because you live 4 hours away from college back to your home.

You knew that you would have to get up early to get there.You set your alarm and almost couldn’t sleep because you were so excited. There was one of the members that you were very fond of, but you were not sure if they felt the same way. Soon that would change. The next morning you get up and get ready. You were in a yellow flowered crop top, a pair of light colored blue jeans, a pair of yellow heels, and a summer hat. When you arrive, you feel a little tired but you knew that it would be worth it. You text everyone that you are there. A few moments later, you see a familiar face, but his appearance had changed from the last time you had seen him. To be honest, college was hard, so you had little to no time for social media.

You get out of your car and smiled, “Erick!” He looks up with the same smile that was still so innocent. You run up to hug him and he did the same. Before you could stop, your bodies collided. “Oww” was the only thing you said after that. His hug turned into an unwavering sense of a kind, very gentle, yet strong person that knows what they want. This almost made you want to be hugged by him more, and feel his gentle embrace, but you knew it was wrong. You feel that he was pulling back at the same time that you were and he stared into your eyes for a moment. He shyly looked away and offered to take your bag for you.

As you walk into the hotel lobby, Erick seemed excited to ask if you were liking college and how hard it was to balance it. He said, “I want to go to college.”  I smiled, “I think that college would suit you perfectly.” He gave the biggest smile “You think so? The boys…” You walk in front of him making sure he stopped, “Erick, you are so smart. Don’t let people make you think otherwise; including anybody on social media or otherwise.” A wave of sadness came over him. “There are so many people that say that I am clueless when the boys are talking.” You felt bad for him because this was an issue, even when they were in La Banda. You hug him and say, “Let others think what they want. I know you are smart and you can do anything you put your mind to, don’t let others discourage you. Even the boys.” You smile and turn around towards the elevator. Just as you hit the up button, the door opened and there were two other familiar faces.

Joel and Zabdiel appeared very concerned. Joel was the first person to notice you and he smiled, stepping off of the elevator first, then Zab followed. Joel gave you a hug. It was a gentle, yet strong and aggressive hug. You felt that he was working out more. His muscular arm caressed your back, pulling you in closer. As you pull back from Joel, you see Zab looking at you. His gaze met yours. You hear Joel and Erick mention they were going up to the front desk to ask a question. You hear their footsteps fade and Zab is still caressing you with the softest hug. Right before you try and pull away from him, he whispers in your ear, “I missed you.” He gives you a super soft kiss on the cheek. You remembered how the guys always teased him and Richard for liking you. Joel and Erick come back around the corner. Joel raises an eyebrow, “You two are still hugging?” You immediately pull away and could tell Zab didn’t want to let you go. Erick picked at Zab like old times, “Ohh you still have a crush~” Zab gave him the death glare and he stopped.

Joel had pushed the button and it immediately opened with a older couple. They smiled and the husband stepped out. The older woman looked in my direction.  Joel held the door so it wouldn’t close. The older woman walked out and towards me, whispering, “Young lady, the man standing beside you likes you. He keeps staring at you. His look is the same as my husband’s, and he is not bad on the eyes at all.” You smile, kind of embarrassed, but you knew it was Zab standing beside you. You look up at him and the lady taps your shoulder before walking away.

You step into the elevator quickly and you go up. When the door opens, Christopher looked frustrated, but his frustration melted as he smiled and gave a hug. His arms were more buff than what you remembered, but he was still the same giggly person. Everyone is walking down the hall to get to the room. All of you were doing silly things and running up and down the hall until you reached the room. Zab had opened the door and allowed you to walk in first. You see Richard in a towel. He sees you and gets startled, resulting in his towel falling. He picks up the towel quickly as you turn and you hear the door slam behind you. Zab was right there and he held you in his arms, asking if you were okay. You nodded, “Yeah, just a little startled is all.” The boys got quiet and they changed the subject. They started talking about the movies you were set to watch, so you jumped into the conversation as well. You wanted to forget about the embarrassing scene that played out just then.

Everyone sat on the couch with Zab sitting right beside you. You noticed that Zab was kind of angry, and you saw him texting someone. You figured it was Richard, but you left it alone. You started debating which movie you were gonna watch, then Zab put his head on your shoulder and got comfortable. You were used to it from all of them. For a moment, it seemed the movie debate was very intense, and the intensity left the room when the door opened and Richard emerged. Everyone looked at him, his face red with embarrassment. He never looked in my direction until he spoke up, “Hey, (Y/N), could you talk to me on the balcony?” He immediately looked down and walked out onto the balcony.

Zab groaned as he lifted his head from your shoulder. You stood up and walked out to the balcony. Richard immediately closed the door behind you and began to apologize, “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realize what time it was and I thought I had a few more minutes.” You laugh, telling him it was fine and that it was an honest mistake. You knew he didn’t mean to drop the towel, so there was nothing to stress over. He looked at you and he smiled, “Thanks for understanding. Again, I am so sorry.” You smile and he hugs you, feeling his muscles ripping through his shirt. You back off because it was too much.

You open the door, seeing that Zab was glaring at him. You scan the room, seeing that Chris was making the popcorn. They had decided what movie they were watching. It was Mulan and you loved it. Joel went into the room and you followed. You notice a California king bed and you see him with a remote in his hand, so you figure everyone was going in the room. Chris said the popcorn was ready and he had a bag full of snacks. It looked like it was enough for 4 days. But you remembered how much Chris ate, so it was totally called for. Everyone went to the room and you all laid on the bed. Zab laid down next to you on your left, and then Richard laid next to you on the right.

It felt calming. Everyone was having a good time picking out the parts that were the funniest, grabbing food, and ordering room service. You paused the movie to sing and dance to some Aventura, Selena, Paula Abdul, Ricky Martin, Michael Jackson, NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, TLC, Whitney Houston, etc… You woke up and remembered that you had gone through 12 movies. Somehow, it had changed over time because Coco was on. You felt Zab was asleep on your chest, and so was Richard, but you did not want to move because they looked so peaceful. The problem was that you had to use the bathroom, so something was going to change. You gently moved their heads and got up. You felt Richard grab your arm and ask if you were okay. You smile, telling him you are okay and he goes back to sleep. You go to the bathroom and come back. You checked your phone when you got back, 5:32 AM.

You crawl back into the bed and go back to sleep. You wake back up and everyone else is awake by now. You debate what to watch again and everyone eventually got their pick. You chose your favorite movie, The Lion King. All of you stay up again and be silly all over again. This time, instead of watching movies, there was a skating rink nearby that had 90’s night. All of you went; it was one of the best times you have ever had. Everyone talked and roller skated.There were a couple of slips and falls, along with a little laughter afterwards, but overall that was an adventure. You grabbed fro-yo and then and you went to a mystery museum. You had a great time because Christopher was trying to scare you. He did and he laughed the whole time.

You looked at the clock and saw the time was 11:30 PM. You told them that you had to go back to the room and go to sleep. This would end your adventures in the city, which sucked.  When you got back, Joel asked why you had to get back to sleep. You reply, “I had to set an alarm to get up early because I have class Monday. I still have to drive back.” He frowned, “Oh, ok.” There was an extra room so you could sleep in peace. You calmed down and eventually drift off. Your alarm goes off, so you get up and shower. You get all of your stuff together, saddened. With everything packed up, you were on your way out of the door, about to say bye to the boys.

You hear a knock at the door so you open it and see all of the boys at the door with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “Are you sure you have to go?” Erick asked sadly. You sigh, “Unfortunately. I do. I’m gonna miss y’all.” You give everyone hugs and Zab walked away, which meant he was crying. You walk over to him and look him in his eyes; they were puffy and red. You smile and tell him that he can visit your university anytime he wants. He can even perform there when they have their annual celebrity performance. He smiles and a tear falls from his face onto yours. You wipe away his tears as well as your own. You give him a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye. You try and walk away, but Zab gently grabs your face and kisses you. His lips were soft against yours, like the center of a rose petal. You smile, trying to hold back tears, and he kisses you again. You tell him, “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” He lets go and tells you goodbye. You walk out the door and get into your car, waving at them. They were looking out the window sadly. You drive off, playing your favorite happy songs to stop from crying.

#CNCO #Zabdiel # Richard # Erick #Joel #Christopher

[higherthantheworld-blog]

A Higher Love

Two days ago, I was on my fifth day of binge watching Love Island. I have to say my favorite thing about the show (aside from their accents, since it is the UK version), is the soundtrack.

But one song caught my eye. 

As the camera pans past the islanders walking to the pool from inside the villa, faintly you can hear five words:

“Bring me a higher love.”

Now I've heard this song before, but I don’t know why my attention completely zoned in when I heard the lyrics. 

Am I currently listening to it as I type? Yes. Did I know Whitney Houston was the singing these words through my Macbook’s speaker? No. But that’s not the point. The real important thing here is:

What is a higher love? What is the thing that we are chasing and that Whitney is so desperately craving?

The beginning of the song answers the question:

Think about it, there must be higher love Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above Without it, life is a wasted time Look inside your heart, I'll look inside mine

A higher love. It is unconditional, it is an energy, it is not tangible, it just is. While it does exist, it is whatever you make it. The answer is within you, and within the universe. Your heart and the stars are made of the same matter that has been around for billions of years gone, and billions more to come. 

The feeling of a higher love is a good hug with your boyfriend. It’s crying on your friend’s shoulder after tragedy. It’s your dog jumping and barking after you come back from school or work. It’s your mom telling you to be safe every time you go out. It’s a stranger holding the door open for you. It’s the barista at Starbucks giving you a free drink.

A higher love is humanity. It is everything that brings positivity to our life and a smile to our faces. It is the feeling we get when we go outside on a summer day and the sun welcomes us. Love is within everything. There is not just one definition, or form of love. Love is behind every action we make, every book we read, every word we speak. Love is what drives us and brings us together. It is the rawest of human emotions. It can take us to both our highest and lowest points.

The Law of Thermodynamics states that energy cannot be created nor destroyed. It can only be transferred from one form to another.

And love is energy. When that break up happens, the love that was once between you and your partner now is ready to be transformed. Every single tear, every dream, every heartache, every thought, carries love within it. And for that reason, the pain that comes from a break up is beautiful. Because it wouldn’t hurt if the love wasn’t real. 

As time passes, the love stops showing itself in the ways we see as “negative”. The tears and social media stalking and dreams and regrets and overthinking slowly stop. The love that was once expressed through pain transforms into love for ourselves. We start eating again. Going out again. Don’t dread another day again. We can start smiling, and mean it. We laugh with friends and change our appearance or take on a new hobby. We begin to love ourselves the way we wish they did.

Love is not found only in a relationship. It is found within ourselves. And without it, life is nothing. There is no reasoning behind life if it isn’t to experienced love in all areas of the spectrum. A life without love is dull and meaningless.

Love is felt with all senses. You can taste food that is made with love. You can hear when a singer’s voice is filled with passion (exhibit A). You can feel the love when a baby holds your finger with their hand. When your bed smells like your boyfriend or girlfriend after they leave? That’s love.

But most importantly, we can SEE love. Every. day. When we look in the mirror, that’s love. The universe put us together and uniquely crafted our DNA everything from the color of our eyes to our personality. It is not by coincidence that we are here on the Earth today. 

The higher love from the universe has lead us throughout our lives to the position we are in. Every success, every hardship, every defeat, every celebration. Every moment within life is laced with love from others, but vastly with love from the universe. 

And to live our lives and spread that kindness, positivity, and compassion that has been given to us, is the highest love.