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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

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The Bodyguard Pt. 2 (Elorcan)

I didn’t really edit the ending of this whoops.

Part 1 | Part 3

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Elide turned over in bed for what had to be the hundredth time, practically strangling herself in her bed sheets. The idea was more than a little tempting at this point.

She glared at the ceiling for a moment, then sat up with a yell. “Get out!”

A deep, unaffected sigh graced her ears. “Go to sleep, Elide.”

Lorcan Salvaterre, her supposed-bodyguard-but-more-like-pain-in-the-ass, was sitting in a chair in the corner, long limbs sprawled in front of him, head resting against the wall of her room.

Her bedroom.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had a man in her bedroom, intent on staying the night. Oh, wait, yes she could.

Fucking never.

“I’m trying,” she spat back, exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders. “I can’t sleep with you in here, mouth breathing all over the place.”

That was such a lie she almost laughed. His even, deep breaths were the last thing keeping her awake.

He peered an eye open at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I don’t know. “Just sit outside the door or something.”

Lorcan closed his dark eyes again. “The picture was taken from inside the room. I will stay inside the room.”

She groaned, and the corner of his lip quirked up.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I were in the bed with you?”

His eyes were still closed, but she pressed her palms over her cheeks to hide the blush anyway. “No, of course not.”

“That’s what I thought, so shut up and go to sleep.”

She was about to tell him what she’d do to him if he ever told her to shut up again when a loud bang sounded against the wall. Elide sat up, curious about what the hell had hit the side of the building hard enough to cause such a loud sou-

The glass window exploded before she could find out, a thousand razor sharp shards shooting across her room. But she wasn’t exactly concerned about that.

No, because faster than she could even track, Lorcan had thrown himself across her room, tackled her back down to the bed, and covered her body with his.

He was on top of her, legs covering hers, strong chest pressed against her, arms cradling her head.

She knew this was the last thing she should be thinking about while someone was trying to kill her, but good Lord the man was tall. And built like a freaking slab of concrete. His deliciously heavy weight was pressing her down against the mattress, allowing her to feel every inch of his body against hers.

“Don’t move.”

Move? She could hardly breathe. “I can’t, you heavy son of a bit-”

“Don’t speak, either.”

Repressing a smile, she did as she was told.

Eventually, when he’d deemed it safe enough, he rolled off of her. “Stay on the bed.”

Holy sweet- he should not say things like that.

She stayed still.

He searched the room, then picked something up and held it out to her. It was a brick, and a note was attached.

Elide,

October, 2016.

Elide read it again and again, praying the words would change but knowing they wouldn’t.

“What happened in October of 2016?” Lorcan asked, peering over her shoulder.

Ignoring him entirely, she shot out of bed and sprinted to her bathroom, barely making it before emptying her guts into the toilet.

Once she was done, she just flushed and leaned against the tub, not having the energy to get up. He leaned in the bathroom’s doorway, unperturbed. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s not important.”

He narrowed his eyes, making him look a little like a predator about to swoop in for the kill. “Tell me.”

She shook her head. Lorcan pinched the bridge of his nose, then suddenly slid down the door frame to sit across from her. “No judgments. I promise. But I need to know what he’s talking about so I can protect you from it.”

A harsh laugh forced its way out of her at that. The man across from her just tilted his head and waited, his face uncharacteristically lacking its scowl.

“In October of 2016, I ran away.”

Lorcan nodded, so she continued. “It was really stupid, honestly. I didn’t have money or clothes or food, and I could hardly walk because of... I was hurt. Somehow, I managed to make it to the docks across town.”

“I thought I made it,” she scoffed, remembering how stupid she’d been. “I thought I was safe. Especially when one of the fisherman’s wives brought me food. But Vernon has everyone in that town on lock down. I never made it onto the boat.”

Elide had to clear her throat before saying the next part. “When he caught me and brought me back, he locked me up. In the basement, in the dark. The only time I’d see a light was when he opened the door to come down and punish me for being so foolish.”

“How long?” Lorcan asked, his voice holding a shocking amount of rage.

Wiping her face clean of tears, she smiled sadly and said, “Six months.”

His jaw was clenched so tight she worried he’d break a tooth.

“That was for when I ran away for less than a day. I’ve been gone for almost two years now. So if he catches me...” Steel made it’s way into her voice. “I’ll kill myself before I let him bring me back to that place.”

Lorcan’s eyes blazed at that statement. “That’s not going to happen. He’s not going to get to you.”

“He can get to me anywhere.” That was beyond true at this point.

“Not anywhere,” he growled, scooping her into his arms and standing up like she weighed nothing. He sounded a little pissed, a little remorseful.

“Um, what are you doing?” When he walked out into the hallway and slammed the door behind them, she amended her question. “Where are we going?”

He seemed to resent even saying the words, but replied, “My apartment.”

About thirty minutes later, she sat across from Lorcan in his living room, holding a cup of hot water.

She’d asked if he had tea and he’d given her the most affronted look and asked, “Why the hell would I drink dirty water?”

Men.

“Why are we here?”

He sighed. “We’re here because you’re not safe at your place.”

Elide glanced around. “And I’m safe here?” I mean, sure, it looked a bit safer, considering there were four deadbolts on the door, but that didn’t mean much.

“Believe me, it’s safe.” She raised an eyebrow, and he rolled his eyes. “I have bulletproof windows, the door’s made of steel, and no one’s allowed in the complex without a security code. Compared to your place, this is Fort Knox.”

“Oh.”

He nodded.

“Um, thank you, I guess.”

Lorcan cringed, clearly unused to having visitors. “You can have the guest bedroom.”

Taking his more than obvious hint, she walked down the hall and into the room. Like the rest of the place, it was painfully in need of a woman’s touch. Gray walls, black furniture, and a bed covered in a white comforter.

No art, no color, no anything.

The windows overlooked the city, but she took him at his word that they were bulletproof. She still yanked the curtains closed before flopping down on the bed.

And even though she felt completely awake, it wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep.

Something nudged her shoulder, and she swatted whatever it was away.

It dodged and bumped her again.

Elide ignored it. Something important was flaring at the back of her mind, but she was too tired, too comfortable to do anything but nuzzle further into the pillow.

A gravelly voice interrupted her goal of falling back asleep. “You’re drooling on my pillow.”

She could recognize that ever-annoyed growl anywhere.

Peeking an eye open, she practically jumped out of her skin. Lorcan stood next to her, towering over the bed, wearing low-hanging sweatpants and no shirt. He sipped his coffee and cocked a brow at her, seemingly unaware of the fact that her position hanging off the bed put her face directly in front of his crotch.

Blushing like crazy, she turned over and sat up, making sure her sleep shirt and shorts was covering everything.

“It’s seven thirty,” he informed her helpfully.

Elide tried to ignore the fact that he was shirtless when he said it, but her brain didn’t listen to the order. Well-defined muscles she was pretty sure she didn’t even possess covered every inch of him, and it was all she could do to stop herself from reaching out and poking one.

“You’re drooling again,” he teased, making her blush.

She jumped out of bed, rushing to... oh, shit. “I don’t have any of my clothes! I don’t even have my toothbrush!”

Before she could start pacing, he nodded to the floor. A black duffel bag was below her, and when she glanced inside, she saw a pair of jeans and a grey turtleneck. And a toothbrush.

“When did you grab this?”

He certainly hadn’t packed a bag before carrying her out last night.

“I went this morning. Not all of us sleep in.”

She would’ve pointed out that anything before noon was the opposite of sleeping in, but she had to get to work. “Okay, thank you, now get out!” She pushed his shoulder, but he just shrugged her off, rolled his eyes, and walked out of the room.

So stubborn this morning.

Once she was ready, she stepped out and asked, “Ready for another day of therapy, Mr. Salvaterre? Maybe we can finally get you to open up and talk about your childhood.”

He just glowered and jerked his chin for her to follow him.

It was only her first day of staying at Lorcan’s place, but she could already tell he was regretting his decision to take her in.

By the time Friday rolled around, she and her new roomie had developed a pretty easy schedule to follow. But even without the stress of being kidnapped in her own home, it had been a long week.

She was beyond ready for the concert tonight.

“This is reckless,” Lorcan pointed out from his position leaning against the bathroom door.

Elide finished her mascara before replying. “It’s not reckless to have a life. What was the point escaping if I lock myself in my apartment all day, anyway?”

He glowered, but she noticed his eyes followed her movements as she drew on her lipstick. Repressing a smug grin, she took more care than usual, making sure it was just right.

When she was done, he got back to his point. “You have a life. A... career.”

A few days ago, she would’ve been annoyed at the resentment in his voice, but she’d gotten used to the idea that therapy wasn’t his thing. “Yes, but I need a social life. You know what that is, right?”

“I have acquaintances.”

She peered over her shoulder, eyes raking over his tall frame dressed in head to toe black. “No girlfriend?”

His eyes narrowed, just a fraction. “No girlfriend.”

That made a horde of butterflies parade through her gut, but she ignored them.

“Makes sense why this place has zero decorations, then,” she teased.

Lorcan looked at the ceiling, and she had a feeling he was praying for sanity. “I have a rug. This discussion is pointless, just like the concert. Let’s go.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was ready anyway, so she followed him downstairs. After a tense taxi ride--during which Lorcan glared at the driver so intensely he practically flew down the crowded streets--they were at MSK, a usually quiet bar on the opposite side of the city.

Lorcan eyed the place like it would be home to the toughest criminals alive, but she’d been here enough to see that the harsh exterior didn’t really matter.

Pulling him inside, she walked up to the bar and winked at the woman behind it.

Manon Blackbeak, the most insanely badass woman she knew and her absolute best friend, gave her a smile. Then glanced at the man next to her.

“Boyfriend,” she explained quickly before the man himself could say something stupid like the truth.

Said man glanced down at her and raised a brow, but she ignored it.

“Hm. You could do better,” Manon told her.

Elide ignored that, too. “You excited for tonight?”

MSK was her bar, so the concerts were a good way of bringing in revenue without having to do much. Plus, Asterin and her had been friends since they were toddlers, so they worked well together.

Manon shrugged. “I hate the new album, but the bar will make some money, so whatever. Want a drink?”

She could feel Lorcan’s eyes on her now. It had been his one big stipulation for “allowing” her to come: no drinking.

She shook her head, thankful the band started playing something loud and obnoxious so she didn’t have to explain. Asterin made her way on stage, and the crowd went crazy.

“This is the kind of music you like?” Lorcan leaned down to ask in her ear. “Metal?”

She laughed at the almost comical look of disgust on his face. “No. I just love Asterin enough to put up with it.”

After four songs, even Elide was doubting that statement. A look at Manon confirmed it. The album was worse than usual. “How much longer?”

Her best friend put her head on the bar and groaned. “God, I hope not long.”

She laughed, then glanced at Lorcan. He was sitting at the bar, glaring at anyone who tried to come close to her.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she yelled.

He gestured for her to lead the way, and she rolled her eyes but walked down the dark hallway to the ladies room. She opened the door, glanced back at Lorcan, and shut the door between them before he could insist on coming in.

Absolutely ridiculous.

Even if his attention made her feel safe.

Ridiculous.

She washed up and used the bathroom, trying fruitlessly to fix her ruined makeup. Eventually, she figured the eyeliner was staying smudged and the lipstick was pretty much a lost cause, so she decided to just go back to the concert.

When she opened the door, Lorcan wasn’t waiting outside in the dim hallway like she expected. Maybe he went to the bathroom, too? Or maybe he had to take a call?

Both seemingly good options, but the little voice that had kept her alive this far screamed at her that something was wrong. Her fight or flight instinct activated, and like the other times that voice had saved her, she listened.

And bolted for the back door of the bar.

She’d get outside, make sure she was alone, and call Lorcan. Nothing was wrong.

The back door swung open, revealing two things and she stepped outside, relieved to see the alley empty.

That relief vanished as harsh hands wrapped around her shoulders and pushed her against the side of the building roughly.

Elide looked up frantically, her inner voice screeching warnings and now-helpless advice as she stared into the face of her uncle Vernon.

“Hello, Elide.”

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Part 3

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#elorcan #elorcan fanfiction #lorcan #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan lochan #lord lorcan lochan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lady elide #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog #tog fanfiction

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thekillerssluts · 3 years

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My Relationship to Performance Has Changed

A great rock-and-roll show means openness, confrontation, and a kind of danger, and those ideas right now feel too heavy to lift.

Last October, before the second pandemic wave took off in New York City, I had one last band practice in my backyard in South Brooklyn. Five of us were working on songs from my new solo record. Normally we’d play in the basement, but it’s pretty low-ceilinged, and we’d read Zeynep Tufekci’s recent Atlantic article on viral spread, so we were all hyper-focused on air circulation. My bandmate Sara had contracted COVID-19—and recovered—in March, but the rest of us had no immunity. Besides, we suspected that we were in for a long winter and might as well hang out outdoors.

It was warm in the sun. After hauling the drums, keyboards, keyboard stands, guitars, and amps outside and plugging everything in, I hadn’t wanted to bother setting up microphones, so we had to play softly to hear ourselves harmonize. When we paused for lunch, someone leaned out of a fourth-story window in the apartment building next door and yelled: “Are you done or are you just taking a break? I have things to do, but I really miss live music!” “Me too, man!” I called back. “Should be just a break.”

Six months and a difficult winter later, the break is ending. I’m seeing more and more Instagram posts for shows that aren’t just wishful thinking. Low-capacity indoor shows are popping up in New York. Outdoor—maybe even full-capacity indoor—concerts are coming this summer. Am I ready to play? Ask me every other day and the answer changes. I’m torn. I’m desperate for sound engineers to get back behind the board and bartenders to start earning tips. I want venues to thrive again, both as places for art in neighborhoods and for the sake of the network that keeps music culture alive in America. I want my booking agent to feel excited again; he loves music so much. And I want musicians to make a living. So many people have been so screwed by the past year. I guess I just want everyone to get paid.

But the actual performance; the rebuilding of the sonic cathedral, as Dave Grohl wrote last spring; communally reaching for rock-and-roll transcendance? I’m not there yet. I’m not concerned that I’ll get sick. I received my second vaccine shot at the end of March and am ready to high-five strangers on the subway. My hesitance has an element of crowd-shyness, which we’ll all get over. But in my own performance, I don’t know how to meet this moment. A great rock-and-roll show means openness, confrontation, and a kind of danger, and those ideas right now feel too heavy to lift.

I used to think of performance in purely aesthetic terms. In the movie La Strada, a clown wearing angel wings does a high-wire act across a crowded piazza. For his finale, he brings out a table on the wire and, while balancing, tries to sit and eat a full plate of spaghetti. The heroine of the movie watches him with an almost religious ecstasy. When I first started performing, I strove for transcendence and stupidity, high concept and low art. My focus was on keeping myself in the air.

When my band Arcade Fire was playing mostly to people who hadn’t heard us before, we felt that the best way to get them to open up was to blow the windows and doors out. At an early show in Lawrence, Kansas, my brother, Win, bashed Styrofoam tiles out of the venue’s ceiling with his mic stand. We pushed as hard for an audience of six people (two of them my parents) upstairs at AS220 in Providence, Rhode Island, as we did in front of tens of thousands in the desert at our first Coachella show (during which I accidentally cut Win’s guitar cable in half by repeatedly smashing a cymbal into the ground).

At a certain point, as people got to know our music, my relationship to performance changed. The energy from the crowd was greater than anything coming from the giant speaker stacks. The audience wasn’t a challenge to overcome, or an opponent to conquer. We became a team. Not in an abstract, lovey way but how a sports team operates—pushing one another to do better, sometimes failing, sometimes frustrating one another, sometimes just joking around.The high-wire act of live performance—Will the music come together?—was still there. I’ve even sometimes tried to make the metaphor real, climbing arena scaffolding with a drumstick in my teeth and a drum strapped over my shoulder to play 30 feet in the air. Some of our crew members hate it—“Will! You have children now!”—but climbing up there doesn’t actually feel that dangerous, and a little nervousness is good. I’m reaching for primate simplicity and catharsis: The crowd needs tension to experience release.But now I have no desire to make tension. I want people to feel safe and comfortable, and I wonder whether creating a feeling of danger and openness is antithetical to that. I know that cultivating a perception of safety and actually making people safe are different. On tour, in a big venue, every night our management and local security have a briefing. It’s partly to set a vibe—People are here for music. Everybody be chill. If some teenager sneaks into a closer section, please let them. But the briefing is also serious—where the medics are located, what the escape routes are. Most of the time, these safety measures are invisible. I worry that post-pandemic precautions, as welcome and necessary as they are, will be depressingly visible. Some elements, such as temperature checks, will be inane. Some, such as requiring vaccination, will be important. Regardless, they will also set a tone—not You are entering a place for music, but You are entering a secure location. Dancing is hard when you’re looking at your feet; singing is hard when you’re thinking about everybody else’s breath. I bet the crowd could get over this. I’m not confident I could. With limited capacities and tight procedures, I worry that the stage will feel like the VIP section of the VIP room at a members-only club. Sterile, lonely, all of us chillingly aware that we are part of a ticketed event.

I have another concern that’s hard to shake. After this pandemic year, I’m more aware of the responsibility I have not only to the people who buy tickets, but to the driver making deliveries to the show and to the family of the woman working arena concessions, people who really don’t care about what I’m doing onstage. Vaccination numbers will grow, and the pandemic will end, God willing. I’m not worried about the spread of the coronavirus in particular. But these links of responsibility remain. The analytical part of my brain turns off when touring starts. Before scrambling back to normalcy, I want to make sure that this sense of connection becomes embedded in how I think. I would really love to just be a musician—but I’m also an employer and a player in an industry that has chewed up and spit out plenty of people, especially in this past year.

My hesitations are all about shows, though, not music. Over the past year, I’ve rarely played music with others—a few practices and filmed performances; work on the new Arcade Fire record in November; a handful of Zooms with bandmates to help a school’s PTA fundraiser or support a candidate in the city-comptroller race. But in all of those instances, I’ve experienced an ease, a rightness to the communication—not through the screen with whoever was listening, necessarily, but the people I was playing with. That connection felt restorative, like having a night of deep sleep that repairs parts of yourself you don’t know how to access.

I know people are ready for live music, ready to forget themselves in a wash of sound, ready to loudly talk with their friends over the song they don’t like that much. And so, for heaven’s sake, go to Neumos in Seattle when shows come back. Go to the Hideout in Chicago. See your favorite band, or somebody new. Plenty of artists don’t share my nervousness. I don’t want to add worry to the world; I’m just figuring out my new relationship to performance.

The magnolias are out in New York, and some of the apple trees are blossoming. Temperatures are creeping past 60. The vaccines keep rolling out. The future seems more possible. If I miss an emotion from live shows, it’s not any moment of transcendence. I miss the time just after, when, dazed and excited, you still feel the reach of some universal gesture, but the only thing concrete is the people around you.

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/04/world-changed-what-makes-live-show-successful-didnt-arcade-fire/618625/

#Arcade Fire #will butler

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kyuublu · 3 years

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Ice cold

part 1 (Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader | series)

Ice Skating AU

Song inspo: Paperbacks - Arlo Parks

September.

Kids screaming and giggling, Couples lovingly holding hands and in the midst of it, annoying teenagers pushing each other. This is the place where i’ll be spending the next year in.

The Takahashi indoor ice skating rink.

I’ve never really been into Ice skating, nor did I know much of this place. The only thing that got me here was my dads suggestion to do at least ‘something’ to pass this year.

I have just graduated highschool and wasn’t planning on going to college immediately. The last couple of years have just been... too much. All the stress in school and losing friends because of college or stupid fights.

I just needed a break.

I watched the many figures on the rink trudging along the ice. Everyone seemingly being in the moment and sharing it with others. I forgot how nice that must feel.

“So, you’re here for the job right?”

Mr. Takahashi was the owner of the rink and has been for decades. His smile was very genuine as he gave me my paperwork back.

“Yes, sir.”

His smile was still glued on his face as he nodded slowly.

“Well, I won’t need those papers. You’ll just need to show me that you can work hard. My wife can get a bit harsh on the cleaning part of this job.”

The old man almost whispered the last sentence. I chuckled a bit at that.

“Of course. I’ll try my best, sir.”

He gave another short nod towards the rink.

“Our hours go until 7 pm, which means...”

Mr. Takahashi paused for a moment, looking at his watch. Swiftly I interrupted his thoughts.

“We’ll close in 10 minutes.”

The man looked up from his watch again.

“Well officially yes, but there will be a another guest arriving soon. He’ll stay for another hour or two.”

An hour or two? And they’ll really let this place stay open for one person?

I shrugged my curiosity off and turned to the man again.

“So when can I start then?”

Mr. Takahashi wasn’t kidding when he said that his wife was particularly thorough with keeping this place clean.

Here I was, scrubbing down the benches that were beside the rink. How many of these damn kids thought that chewing gum before going ice skating was a good idea? I thought, while I scrubbed off another hard piece of pink gum.

Suddenly I heard shuffling behind the bench I was still working on. Turning towards the noise out of reflex I was met with a harsh stare.

A boy with black curly hair stood a couple of steps away from the bench. Eventhough he wore a mask, I could tell that he didn’t look too happy to see me.

“Oh- Uhh.. Hi!”

I awkwardly waved at the stranger but quickly explained further.

“Don’t worry! I work for Mr. Takahashi now and uh-“

I stopped talking when I noticed the boy wasn’t interested in a conversation. He just walked passed me, sat down on another bench I had JUST cleaned and put on his skates. Letting out a small huff I continued scrubbing down the cold wood in front of me.

After the unpleasant guest (that still hasn’t spoken a word to me), was done with putting on his gear, he walked towards the rink without sparing me a glance. Then the metal of his blades harshly collided with the ice. The sound made me perk up and my curiosity got the best of me.

I slowly stood up and watched as the figure swiftly skated onto the ice floor.

You could tell immediately that he has done this for years. The way he effortlessly pushed himself further, as if he was just going for a stroll around the park.

“He can be a bit, distant.”

Mr. Takahashis calm voice came from behind me. I gave the older man a quick glance.

Oh, yea a little ‘distant’ sure is a way to describe him.

“What’s his name?”

The grey haired man took a couple steps closer as he also began watching.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi. He’s been coming here every week since he was a little boy. His mother used to be a professional ice figure skater but she retired after having him.”

I turned my gaze back to the boy that seemed to be stuck in his own little world at the moment. Sakusa.

“He’s always been very kind towards us even if he can be a handful to others, so please give him a little time to adjust to somebody new. We haven’t really had any other people working here besides our family.”

I gave him a reassuring nod as I slowly took off my gloves.

“Mr. Takahashi.”

A slightly deeper voice approached. Sakusa stopped right beside us on the ice.

“Would you mind putting in CD 12 for me?”

His eyes were focused on the man beside me but I was shamelessly looking at the curly head. Sakusa didn’t have his mask on. I studied his features a little too much in that moment as I realized he had two moles on his forehead.

I had to admit, he really was handsome guy.

The older man chuckled at his request but nonetheless trudged towards the rooms behind the benches. Sakusa watched as Mr. Takahashi entered the room that had a little glass window.

I casually looked away from him and also put my attention to the man. Suddenly I flinched as loud music began playing through the speakers above us.

The boy beside me gave out a cold chuckle. My gaze catched his for a split second, but he moved towards the middle of the rink faster than I could comprehend.

Wow, did he finally acknowledge my presence? The sarcasm in my head was shortly cut off by the moves of the dark haired boy. This time Sakusa didn’t seem effortless. This time he looked passionate.

I didn’t know this guy, but passionate was the last thing I would’ve expected him to be since he’s only been acting cold, almost arrogant. Usually a quiet person would be seen as ‘shy’, but he had a weird narcissistic aura to him.

But even though I don’t know shit about Ice skating or Ice figure skating for that matter, these movements held me in some sort of trance.

After my first workday Mr. & Mrs. Takahashi both agreed on taking me in for awhile. The man was pretty happy to have another helping hand from the start but Mrs. Takahashi also seemed very pleased by my work ethics. In her words she ‘didn’t know people my age would ever get their hands dirty.’ which made me pretty happy to hear.

At least I could contribute something to my community by scrubbing down toilets and benches full of gum.

Something that also made my job a little more interesting than I’d like to admit was Sakusas practices. He came around at least four times a week, or even every evening at times.

“CD 12, right?”

I’d begin to ask after seeing him countless times while working late shifts. The only thing I got in response is a short nod while he proceeded to put on his skates.

I was pretty content with that small interaction with him though, since the boy didn’t seem to acknowledge my existence at all before.

As the CD turned in the old device the Takahashi’s probably had owned since they opened this place, I began watching the gloomy figure on the Ice through the small window. I noticed that he seemed even more timid than usual after our interaction.

Sakusa was making the same twirls and steps as always but somehow he lacked energy. The passion I saw the first time he skated infront of me, was gone.

I shook my head in attempt to keep focusing on my actual tasks. After all I’m still here to work, right? Grabbing the mob and bucket next to door I rushed to the changing rooms.

After an hour of cleaning the floors I could hear a loud crash from outside the room. The door was open, giving me a small view at the rink. The boys’ figure wasn’t on the ice anymore which alarmed me a bit. I hastily stood up and walked out of the changing rooms.

Sakusa was sitting on one of the benches as he held his head between both of his hands in frustration. His eyes were glued to the floor.

Then I saw his skates that were messily layed out on the floor beside him. Aha, that was what made the noise.

I hesitantly approached his form. I didn’t know what my next step was going to be, since this guy probably wasn’t the type that wanted to be comforted. Especially not by me.

I crouched down next to the bench, giving him the personal space he needed.

“Your performance seemed kinda off today.”

The words escaped my mouth without a second thought. Maybe Sakusa didn’t need comforting but more of a second view that could help him?

The dark haired boy took his head out of his hands and gave me a quick glance. Then he gave me the biggest eye roll of the century and began talking.

“Nice to known that even the part-time employee notices my mistakes.”

‘The part-time employee’ Ah yes. He didn’t know my name and he apparently wasn’t planning on changing that.

“I only noticed because when I first saw you skate I thought it was more than some choreography you probably had worked on for months. It was art.”

I stared at the rink infront of us. I guess he really didn’t need anyone besides his ego.

After standing up I gave him one last glance.

“My name’s L/N Y/N by the way.”

Even if he wouldn’t remember, I’d still want that satisfaction of showing him that I actually wanted to be helpful.

I turned away, practically feeling him staring holes into my back and walked away.

My shift was over anyways.

October.

Since starting the Job my parents have been pretty much satisfied with my weekly routine. Instead weeks and months of me rotting away in my room, I was actually doing something.

Now working at the entrance to cash in the money of the guests, did tire me out though. I’d rather clean those scrubby bathrooms and be around that arrogant curly head than work with these endless lines of people. Let’s just say I was a little stressed from the amount of communication I had to go through as the cashier.

It was almost 7pm, I was ready for Sakusa to ignore me again and walk straight into the indoor skating rink. He didn’t pay anything anyways so he had all the right to, but it would be nice to get a hello from time to time.

Suddenly I saw more than one figure enter the building. I couldn’t believe my eyes, did Sakusa actually bring friends? To my knowledge he didn’t even have interest in having friends.

I stood up from my seat and looked through the glass window at the two other boys entering the building with him.

One had lighter hair, the other one was a bit taller with dark blue hair that almost covered his eyes. Sakusa sure knows how to make me curious.

After counting up the money and sorting everything out, I went straight to the rink. I wanted to know who these friends of his were... Even if it probably wasn’t my business.

Before taking a step inside, I could already hear a faint laughter. My heart made a little jump, was that Sakusa?

I fastened my pace a bit but quickly noticed that it was the grey haired boy that was laughing mercilessly.

It seemed like the other two weren’t in on the joke though, as they both looked blankly at their friend.

I smiled at the boys’ antics and was suddenly aware of my unwanted presence. The grey haired boy looked at me, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oi Sakusa, you didn’t tell us you’d bring your girlfriend?”

He said shamelessly, but with a wholesome grin plastered across his face.

The dark haired boy didn’t even look back.

“I told you to stop talking nonsense. You know why we’re here.”

His friend only let out a dramatic sigh, approaching me casually.

“Sorry for that, I’m Sugawara.”

I chuckled again. He just seemed like a nice guy which made me wonder how the hell he got along with Sakusa.

“It’s okay, I’m L/N. Are you guys Sakusas friends?”

The boy blinked at me for a couple of seconds but then began laughing again.

“Oh no, no. I think he’d rather drink bleach than call us his friends.”

Sakusa abruptly stood up and began walking towards the rink, with something that resembled a smirk.

“You know me so well, Sugawara.”

His blades hit the Ice, the sound feeling too familiar now.

Sugawara looked back to me again, seemingly interested in my presence.

“The other guy is Kageyama by the way.”

I nodded shortly as we both approached the rink a little more. The dark haired boy, Kageyama, also entered the floor covered in ice.

“I know you probably experienced how Sakusa can be but trust me when I say, Kageyama is even more dense than he is.”

Chuckling at his comment I finally met Sugawaras gaze.

“So if you aren’t friends, than why are you here?”

Suddenly two male voices could be heard from behind us. I turned a bit to look at the new guests. Who else did Mr. Takahashi let in this time?

“I think you’re about to see why.”

With that, the grey haired boy also entered the rink swiftly in one go.

My attention being back on the two males again, I recognized one to be Mr. Takahashi, whereas the other one was a taller but younger man. His dark hair was gelled back, and he was slim with a strongly defined face. His harsh demeanor somehow didn’t match his athletic but fragile looking body.

The man bowed to my boss and proceeded to walk towards the rink. He flashed me a quick smile and then looked at the boys skating their rounds.

A smile, huh? I couldn’t quite place if this man was nice or scary.

“Mr. Watanabe will be Sakusas new trainer.”

Mr. Takahashi almost whispered to me.

“Oh? Will the others also be joining his practices from now on?”

I asked curiously. The older man slowly shook his head.

“No, they were only in the area because of the competition. I think the trainer wanted Sakusa to see how the others trained.”

Mr. Takahashi pondered as he watched the boys intently.

A competition? I didn’t know Sakusa was actually competing...

“Sakusa is a very talented young man but he doesn’t trust others easily and likes to do things his own way. But if he wants to become the best at what he’s doing-“

He paused as he looked at me briefly.

“then he’ll have to learn from someone that has the experience.”

I nodded in acknowledgement.

Sakusa really was taking ice skating that serious. It made me smile a little.

Suddenly I could feel Mr. Takahashis gaze linger on my action, as if I had been caught red handed, I awkwardly looked away from the dark haired boy.

“Well, I should get going then. I emptied the cash register and-“

The older man chuckled and began waving a hand in front of me.

“Why don’t you stay here for a bit and watch the practice. It might be good for Sakusa to see that someone is actually interested in what he is doing. Since the competition, I could tell he seemed a bit down.”

I perked a brow at that.

Why would he want ME to stay though?

My curiosity got the best of me again, whatever happened in this competition really did get to him or else he wouldn’t have been so stressed before.

“Right, I guess staying for a bit won’t hurt.”

I smiled at the older man. He nodded again and walked back to his little office.

After their little warm up, Mr. Watanabe began talking to the boys. I didn’t understand most of their conversations but I did catch a certain curly head looking in my direction. He did seem a little confused as to why I was still there, I could tell.

After that it just became a lot of twirls and jumps and steps, one after another. Sometimes an occasional groan would leave some of the skaters mouths.

Other times when the trainer was speaking to Mr. Takahashi, Sugawara would drive by and make stupid faces or even talk with me for a bit. I really got along with him very well from the start. He was just comfortable to be around, I guess.

One time during the training I could basically feel the rage emitting from Sakusas body. He was watching Kageyama some sort of variation I wasn’t familiar with, but I could tell it wasn’t an easy one.

“It’s not as hard as you make it seem. Just dip your knees more.”

Kageyama shortly implied, seemingly disinterested in the fact that Sakusa was fuming.

“What the hell do you not understand, I told you I’m doing exactly what you say and it still doesn’t fucking work-“

“Then you just can’t do it. And you probably never will.”

The blue haired boy stated nonchalant as he looked him dead in the eye.

“What did you just say to me?”

Suddenly a deep voice stopped the boys from tearing each other apart.

“Alright, enough.”

Mr. Watanabe glanced at the bunch and sighed.

“I wanted you to learn from others so you might get a feel of how many different ways there are to approach some things.”

Sakusa didn’t look impressed with his new Trainers comment.

“Sure, I get it but that’s why we hired you to teach me. Not some amateur boys.”

Both of the guys didn’t seem faced by the comment until Kageyama struck a nerve again.

“At least I got first place. You can’t really claim that yourself, can you?”

He walked off without sparing him another glance. Sugawara followed suit as he shrugged.

“Well I guess we’ll see you next competition. Good luck, Sakusa.”

The dark haired boy only gave him a half assed wave as he trudged towards the outer part of the rink.

Sugawara quickly winked at me before leaving.

The Trainer looked his new student up and down, planting a hand on his shoulder.

“You did good today, but we’ll have to work on your attitude.”

Mr. Watanabe turned around, giving me another quick smile.

“You probably shouldn’t keep your girlfriend waiting. See ya next week.”

He proceeded to walk towards the exit until his figure disappeared from our sight.

Now it was just me and him.

“I got third place.”

Sakusa mumbled as he undid his skates. Perking up at his sudden start at conversation I tried saying the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh wow! Sounds great..”

I awkwardly shuffled around as I realized I was clueless as to why he was feeling so down.

“I wouldn’t call that great but sure. Thanks, I guess.”

“What do you mean? You placed 3rd. Isn’t that something to be proud?”

He sighed putting down the skates. Sakusa actually looked me in the eyes this time. Really looked.

“No it isn’t. I’ve trained months for this stupid competition. And then that brat gets first place eventhough he’s only been doing this for what? Three years. It’s pathetic, really.”

I was genuinely starstruck for a moment. He hasn’t ever uttered more than a Hello or grunt to me, and now this.

“I uhm... look-“

Getting myself together, I finally asked what I’ve been wanting to from the start.

“I don’t know much about this stuff, like you said I’m only some employee, but why are you so hard on yourself? I feel like the way you talk doesn’t align with the way you skate. It sometimes sounds like you hate Ice skating but then when u do it-“

I paused again as I looked at the floor, away from his harsh stare. Maybe I am rambling too much.

“It’s like you’re in your own little world without a worry.”

Oh yea, that was probably way too cringey.

Suddenly a dry laugh escaped the boy beside me.

“The way you describe it sure sounds nice. But imagine that almost everyone in those competitions skate like me and the worst thing is, they all want the same thing that I want. So to the judges it all looks the fucking same. It isn’t art anymore. It’s just a sport you need to perfect.”

My eyes catched his for a moment and it felt like time stood still.

“I’m just tired of losing at the only thing I’m truly good at.”

#hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #sakusa imagines #sakusa x reader #sakusa fic #sakusa scenarios #haikyuu au #sakusa x you

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imaginethathaikyuu · 4 years

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kinktober 2020 faq // prologue

alright mothers and fuckers, kinktober is right around the corner and just like last year, we got an faq!

i’m making this post to answer some faq’s and to preface the event, that way there’s one place you can all find all of my kinktober info. (yes a lot of this is copy and pasted from kinktober 2019′s faq, cuz i am Lazy)

PSA: if you’re not into this event and don’t wanna see the posts, please blacklist the “kinktober 2020″ tag, as that’s the tag i’ll be using throughout the month for my kinktober fics!

ok now take this faq:

what is kinktober? - definition taken from fanlore: “Kinktober is a multifandom prompt based challenge that encourages the creation of erotic fanworks, mostly fanfiction and fan art, that focus on specific kinks. Taking place during the month of October.” so basically its just 31 days of smut

what prompts are you using? - these, a prompt list created by myself

can i use your prompt list for my own kinktober event? - sure thing, go for it! you can credit, or not, i don’t mind either way

what does X prompt even mean? - a lot of the prompts this year aren’t technically kinks, they’re just... prompts. it was more fun for me that way. i recommend using google for ones that seem foreign, but there will be definitions or explanations in the note on the fic for those that need them

what characters are you including? - the character list isn’t being posted, characters will be revealed as the scenarios are posted. you know, to add some suspense

is X character included? - if the character you’re wondering about is quite popular, then yea, probably. if not, then, who knows. many people have asked about specific characters, and sometimes i answer, sometimes i don’t. i like keeping things a surprise, so i tend not to answer, but sometimes i like to throw yall a treat and let you know who’s in once the event starts, i won’t be answering any of those questions. just wait and see!

why didn’t you include X character? - there are only 31 days of october, but there are more than 31 characters in haikyuu. because of that, some characters had to be left out. there was nothing i could do to change that. because of that issue, i held a kinktober roster poll a few months back, and the characters who received the most votes were picked first. after that, i chose those who i wanted to include. if you want to see a kinky scenario for someone who isn’t included, i do take requests after kinktober ends, so visit my ask box!

what time are scenarios going to be posted? - i’ll have posts scheduled (hopefully) most days, probably around 3 pm EST. for those that aren’t scheduled, honestly who knows the time i’ll post them (if they aren’t scheduled that means they aren’t finished yet.) i work a couple days a week, so that throws a wrench into times i can post - i really just recommend turning on my post notifications and being patient. please don’t ask when or if i’m posting it - even if they’re not on time, they’ll be up, don’t worry

isn’t this a bit too much smut? yep

i thought i’d include some questions i received on the kinktober poll i put out a few months back, just to spice things up and answer some concerns more directly:

- perhaps go a little further or explore each concept more? your writing is beautiful but for a lot of the fics i felt a tad underwhelmed. Or maybe i'm just really thirsty and wanted more smut lmao

- Maybe make them a little longer (?). I know it’s a lot of work. I could never do what you do so I’m not trying to demand more of you. So please don’t take it that way. I just enjoy longer reads in general. Idk please don’t be offended. I love your work so much.

- I would like it if scenarios were a lil longer but if that’s not possible that’s completely okay! That’s just me being picky bc I rlly don’t have any criticisms

- this was by far the most common comment i received (i only showed three here but there were More.) to be honest, i think i could have done a better job at wrapping up the fics last year. i think the issue was that a lot of them just ended, because i didn’t have the time or energy or ideas to end them well, and that tends to leave the reader thirsty for more unfortunately, the idea of making each fic longer in a way that adds more smut rather than just wrapping it up nicely at a good enough spot is nearly impossible because of just how much work that adds. it’s a lot less efficient to add 1k words to a fic that needs to be posted the next day, when i haven’t even started the fic that’s going up the next week yall are thirsty. there are 31 days of smut and yall still want them to be longer. THIRSTY!!!!! however there are much longer fics this year, so hopefully i can feed you all well :p

Umm there were a couple that had a one-sided kink and the other partner never got pleasured. Whether it was the reader or the character. Like the Tendō one or the Futakuchi one. Favs of mine, but they ended with the implication that more would happen but we didn’t get to see it. And I know it’s not part of the kink, but it’s be cool to include how it plays out from there if you could cos I always love seeing both sides pleased! Sorry if that’s weird

- yeah, that was kind of the point of a few of the kinks i featured last year, and again i think it’s just a matter of ending those stories better. i really hate when fics end in implications for more, it honestly is the lazy way out of a fic, but sometimes as a writer who’s posting a lot at once, i have to take the lazy way and accept that the fic could’ve been better if i had the time or energy or skill for it. i don’t like the idea of kinktober being quantity over quality, but there are rare times where i just have to make that exception in order to succeed with the event. what can ya do!

tbh i wasn't really a fan on semi's! it was great to read when it came out but it was kinda weird to reread when it wasn't halloween

- all i’ll say is i probably should’ve taken this feedback into consideration before writing semi’s fic this year ... anyway

Probably just more research on the said kink(s) you’ll write.

- not sure which fics or kinks this was in reference to, but yeah you’re right i could’ve done more research for a few of them. but sometimes mistakes happen, like with oikawa’s when i got two kinks confused and had to change his prompt last minute, and things slip through the cracks of my small brain. and as much as i can research, i’ll still never know everything about every kink i write about. i think most of last year’s fics captured their kinks well enough, though!

Make some more of the stories, one-shots, type things gender neutral if possible

- i always try my best! it can be tricky with smut but it can be done, and i do always try. i’m wondering if it would be okay or helpful for some to label some fics that don’t include pronouns/gendered language but have a “fem presenting” reader as “afab reader,” mainly because it’s tricky to write smut without mentioning body parts, however avoiding gendered language when writing is much easier. if it would be better than labeling those it applies to as “fem reader” then i would much rather go with that to make more of my fics accessible to more people! i’m not sure if that’d be helpful or correct, so please feel free to give me feedback on this if you have any insight and correct me if this wouldn’t be cool!

please be patient with me when it comes to answering asks and posting these scenarios. i’m kinda pretty stressed about failing, and i’m trying my hardest - even though i started writing these in july, it still feels like there’s not enough time to prepare.

thank you for giving me a reason to even have events like these. i love you all, dear friends, and i appreciate every bit of support you offer me. thank you so much for your excitement, the kind words you’ve left in my ask box and on the kinktober poll, and for supporting my writing at all. i hope you’ll all enjoy this next month of smut!

#kinktober 2020 #not family friendly #posting this now so i can go ahead and add the link to scheduled posts #why am i nervous to post this lmao

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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(Wo)men in Glass Houses (Branjie) - Pinkgrapefruit

A/N - now my yearly october to january hibernation is over, have a fanfiction. read by ortega and jaz and quite frankly neither of them found anything glaringly wrong with it so… enjoy lads. i swear i’ll post something of more substance soon.

I’ve been sleeping late

And if I’m speaking honestly

My dreams are the only place

The thought of you can’t bother me

Vanessa is on her back - eyes piercing holes in the ceiling. It’s white, as most ceilings are, wood chipped and bumpy. There’s a coffee-coloured stain that jeeps drawing her eyes but she’s too scared to ask how it got there. If she’s honest, she doesn’t want to know.

Her bedmate is still fast asleep or is at least doing a good job of pretending, and it’s giving Vanessa too much time to think. Her immediate thought - the one that breaks through the carefully constructed walls at the edge of her mind - is how she wishes she wasn’t awake at all. She wants to be asleep again, running through the fields of spring flowers near her childhood home in Yorkshire, blissfully unaware of the mistake sleeping next to her.

She loathes to call Brooke a mistake - but there aren’t any other words.

The covers are soft between her fingertips and her pillow smells of eucalyptus and mint and it brings her back to her train of thought. They were never meant to happen. It’s simple really, the relationship was never meant to happen. They’re a square peg in a round hole who’s too ashamed to admit it and is therefore trying to pretend it doesn’t have any corners at all and the point is - they don’t fit.

Coffee and cheese. Milk and sriracha. Piers Morgan and drag queens. No entiendo por favor.

(She truly does not understand).

They’ve been trying to change each other and like an elastic band, Vanessa just wants to snap back to how she was. She enjoyed her lazy Sundays with Riley, drowning last nights hangover in coffee just long enough to make it to brunch with Kiki and Silky. She misses her half-hearted gym sessions where she’d piss about with resistance bands and yoga balls in the studio off the side before actually doing some hip hop dancing and calling it a night. She hasn’t seen a shitty action film in months and, dare she say it, she misses bad nacho cheese.

She’s not the only one whos made ill-fated sacrifices - she can admit that - Brooke hasn’t been working late, misses her morning runs most days and only drinks chamomile when Vanessa isn’t at her house because the brunette says it smells like old people.

Drink your old people tea, Vanessa thinks in a more scathing tone than she would dare say out loud because it’s before six am and she’s in a worse mood than she thought. She looks at Brooke - her blonde hair splayed on the pillow like a halo. Fucking drink it.

And when I’m wide awake

It takes all of my energy

To tell our friends we’ve never been this happy

The thing about breakups - is if you know they’re coming, you can watch them in slow motion like a train crash.

A’keria has been watching this one for months.

It’s the sort of ‘watch and wait’ scenario that leaves her grabbing the popcorn and tucking herself into the sofa with a blanket her nan crocheted and she’s not mad about it.

So she watches the relationship go up in flames and wonders how either of them thought it would be a good idea to act on the sexual tension that’s been threading around them for years and she privately thinks that maybe she should have just set Vanessa up with her sister to save the trouble.

Because climate change has moved faster than these idiots.

Waiting for the glass house to come down

Waiting to hear that crashing sound

Waiting for the right words to tell you how

I don’t wanna be false art

They move around each other in their perfectly choreographed morning routine - not a word is spoken but they are both fed, watered and ready to go when they need to begin their walk to the office.

Their fingers are intertwined but it’s more of a perfunctory gesture than it used to be. Vanessa grabs Brooke’s hand somewhere between the offices for Walkers and Harveys. She always does.

With Brooke in a maxi dress, she looks more like a model than a lawyer and it allows Vanessa to exercise her possessive streak when a builder catcalls. They kiss bruisingly in the disabled stall before they head to their respective offices - frustrated before 9 am.

When A’keria asks how Vanessa is doing - she lifts the edge of her shirt to show the hickey embedded into her hip.

I’ve been making shit up

But I’ll come clean

I finish in the bathroom

While you fall asleep without me

Brooke stays in the bathroom after sex.

She washes herself slowly and thoroughly, as though any hint of mint shampoo left on her body would be a sin. (Brooke’s shampoo is lemon because she refuses to make her hair smell like toothpaste).

She cannot deal with post-coital cuddling today - the image of another person in her bed just too much to accept in the waning light of day. So she performs her nighttime routine twice to make sure that the summer sun has set entirely by the time she is back in the bedroom. It allows her to slide under the covers in the dark and pretend she is alone - if not for the steady exhales of Vanessa.

She is not right for Vanessa.

The brunette deserves romance and wooing and all Brooke can give is detached sex in bathrooms and bitter black coffee.

There are things she needs to unpack. A box of memories in her wardrobe that will sting more, the longer she leaves them hidden away.

She cannot love herself with enough fervour to love Vanessa.

They both know it.

So she suckles bruises onto her collarbone and calls it adoration.

And our friends they say they want this

But they don’t see

That it’s inevitable

And inevitably

“God, I want what you two have. It’s practically a romcom - friends to lovers.”

It’s harmless, just Courtney simpering as she heads towards the bar set up on the corner of the room but it makes Vanessa dig her nails into her palms so hard she worries she might break the skin.

Brooke sidles up to her - cold lithe fingers wrapping around her waist as she leans down to whisper in Vanessa’s ear.

“Bathroom, five minutes,” she whispers and then she’s gone.

Vanessa marvels at the way people interpret things they don’t understand. To most people - the blush that’s threatening to flutter across the apples of her cheeks is in response to a declaration of love, or a flirtation between sweethearts.

They can never know the detached but furious way Brooke will make Vanessa come undone while the brunette is leaning against the sink - faucet poking into the small of her back. The way she will nip red marks into the flesh of her inner thigh and then later into her bottom lip - Vanessa’s tongue carrying out its own assault on Brooke’s mouth.

For all the ways the forced romance has ruined them - the sexual tension is as thick as the day they first met.

The glasshouse to come down

Just waiting to hear that crashing sound

Waiting for the right words to tell you how

I don’t wanna be false art

Like a fairytale - their eyes met across a crowded room and that was it.

That is, of course, a lie - but it’s how they tell it.

In reality, Brooke had just moved to London from Devon and she’s booked an interview at the firm Vanessa worked HR for. Vanessa took her paperwork, A’keria noticed the spark, Brooke got the job.

They mistook sexual chemistry for romance and by the time they’d figured it out they were four months into a relationship of convenience.

Vanessa has always thought that friends with benefits was a ridiculous arrangement but men in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones and isn’t this just the kind of relationship she always scorned.

Acquaintances that share bodily fluids, a bed and invites to dinner. Someone to share secrets with and hold hands on the way to work. Someone to watch sleep in the early hours of the morning and cuddle you when you’re drunk and lonely.

Vanessa is, too often, drunk and lonely.

It’s a habit she intends to break.

Pretend we’re picture perfect

When we’re breaking beneath the surface

I don’t wanna be false art

They break up on a Sunday and finally, Vanessa can agree it’s a day of peace.

It can hardly be considered a breakup from her perspective - the only emotions left to untangle are Vanessa’s towards Brooke’s cats. It’s cold, clean and incredibly reminiscent of Brooke herself - cold, clean, perfect.

Icy.

In a twenty minute sweep of her apartment - every hint of the tall blonde is gone.

Make love like we deserve it

To cover up what’s hurting

I don’t wanna be false art

She makes a cup of coffee, inhaling the scent that reminds her so vividly of university and youth, and drinks it by her window. She plays her music loud.

She refuses to have any regrets.

I don’t wanna be false art

#rpdr fanfiction #pinkgrapefruit #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #akeria davenport #angst #song fic #lesbian au #(wo)men in glass houses #barest hints of smut if you call talking about hickeys smut #look im not here to cheer you up #my triumphant return is a songfic about branjie being unhappy #its like i never left #thanks V (you’re a legend)#concrit welcome #(how I've missed you and your tags...xoxo -v)#submission

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kazbrkker · 4 years

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Chapter 10: The Price of War

Chapter summary: The events of Highway of Death told from Alex's perspective. Alexis' real name is finally uncovered, and one of her captors' identity is also revealed. (3327 words)

Warnings: Hadir's betrayal, character death, flashbacks of almost death.

"Come on, stay with me!" an unfamiliar voice bounced around her head.

Was Alexis dreaming again?

Alexis was definitely dreaming again. Which was how she knew this was reality. Because she knew when she balanced over the thin line between life and death, she would dream. Sometimes she dreamt of hungover mornings and coffee runs with Maddox and the crew, inhumane circuit laps with Mactavish and Price, or the countless times Alex talked her ears off with the desire for another tattoo.

The pain that ached all over her body, accompanied by the abnormal brush of coldness told her it was time. Time to meet your maker.

She heard this joke once, and this sure as hell was the punchline.

"...keep squeezing... hand–"

Hadir? Was... was she really dreaming? This couldn't be real.

Worse were the dreams conjured by fear. The ones that took her right back to St.Petersburg to stare down the shimmering flames. The feeling of raw flesh after endless interrogations. And the reminder of wearing her blood like a second skin. It was she never left that tiny jail cell.

Alexis remembered the crackling of the flames. It was all that filled her ears. Her captors were missing. She was in the middle of nowhere.

The fire blazed a slow path straight for her like she was the final goal to reach. It tore down wooden crates, engulfed the flimsy curtains and went straight for her. Like the fire had a mind of its own and knew it wanted her.

This was it, the end of her legacy. Her stories were etched in flesh, and her book would be the grey stone in Arlington.

The salty tears streaming down her bruised eyes should have hurt, but didn't. The roaring fire snuffed out most of the oxygen and thinned the air. Her head was growing heavier by the seconds, eventually resting it against the grimy walls.

There are worse ways to go, she tried convincing herself.

When she started to drift away, she summoned enough energy to raise a fingertip over the wall—finding her name carved into the stones. Her real name.

Maybe, hopefully, somebody would remember her.

Her dreams manifested into her sleep over time. When she dreamt of St.Petersburg, she'd wake up with her mouth gaped wipe, like she paused mid-scream. Her fingers would tremble and she'd force herself to give in to her shaking legs and remain seated. She'd whisper to herself that it was only a dream. It'll stop.

Until it didn't.

Today, with her back on the ground, eyes rolled back, Alexis dreamt again.

The worst wasn't knowing she was going to die—that was the price of war. She had long made peace with the Grim Reaper. It was knowing she finally had something to live for.

Maybe this time her dream wouldn't stop.

━━━━━━

FIVE HOURS EARLIER:

29 October 2019, 0730 "Alex" CIA with Urzik militia Darus, Urzikstan

Alex hopped off the truck, inwardly expressing gratitude that after hours, they'd finally arrived at their destination. Though the aura of a village filled with rubble and dust in its silence put him off.

Ribbons of the early sun had already splashed across cerulean blue canvas. Behind him, Alexis blew a low whistle. He turned around to discover her standing in the middle of the elevated road—looking heavenward.

"What a view. Exactly the one I pictured–" Alexis marvelled.

Alia stopped her, "You picture your death?"

"Of course. You'd be surprised how disappointing death can be."

Alex kept a blank face despite feeling his heart drop. Apparently his cold shoulder treatment was starting to draw attention—evident when Farah arched an inquisitive brow beside him.

He returned with a shrug, still nursing his anger. He was pissed to be kept in the dark about Alexis' mysterious call. Her standoffish behaviour was from an all too familiar playbook that Alexis always operated out of—the masterful art of dodging.

It was exactly what happened after St.Petersburg. Which was why Alex had to intervene before it took a turn for the worse.

"You're out of it. Anything I should know?"

"What should you know?"

Answer a question with a question.

"If you want to lie to my face, go ahead. But I won't stand here and pretend to believe you."

"For CIA, you have no idea how to deal with women." Farah nudged him up the flight of stairs.

Only then did Alex realised he was spacing out. Although that couldn't stop him from thinking about how the early sun practically bathed Alexis with a halo. "Or... I know exactly what I'm doing," he smirked, climbing two steps at a time.

Farah smacked his arm, "Ah, don't play the game, play the man. I believe that's what you Americans call it." In combat, Farah was all expressionless and cold, but when the commander was out of the field, sometimes she allowed a certain amount of lightness to grace her smiles. They bumped fists with a knowing grin.

"Zip it," behind them, Alexis knocked Alia's head loudly, "Don't even think about dying."

"They'll have their hands full with her up there," Farah mused.

He heard Alia's terrible attempt at whispering—asking Alexis what he pictured for his deathbed. The cunning young lady certainly deserved an ovation. In more ways than one, Alia really was the splitting image of a young Alexis. Another loud whisper came from the young girl. "What do you mean he's not angry! You must be blind."

Alex recalled that one particular vacation in Bali that birthed this conversation. Just the two of them laying on the beach, free of woes and war. Three years felt like a lifetime ago.

"Throw me out of a helicopter, shoot me out a canon. I want my corpse to rain from the sky."

"Go out with a bang?" Alexis sipped on her frozen margarita, laying on a beach chair unbothered by the world. "That is very you."

Surely that sounded like an exaggeration. But if Alex had it his way, he would. Unfortunately, there was already a plot in Arlington reserved for him.

"Something like a sky burial," Alexis answered for him. Flashes of her chocolate hair loose on her shoulders and sunburnt cheeks left his mind. Alex felt her eyes burn into his back. "He's... weird."

"I heard that."

Several wobbly ledges later, they reached the vantage point that overlooked the highway, Hadir passed them two custom made sniper rifles. A larger than usual smile appeared on Alexis as she geeked at the custom rifle. It was almost comical—her jumping around while donning a ridiculous head gauze. While Hadir's impressive rifle put her in a good mood, Alex suspected it was Hadir, Farah and Alia responsible for this lighter shell of Alex.

He missed this version of her—not haunted by demons of her past. Trust it to be Urzikstan to draw out this side of her again. He'd do anything to make this Alexis stay.

"I'd watch that recoil, Lexi."

Alexis flashed a smile, pushing past him, "And I'd worry about your shots, babe. Trajectory is a bastard in this wind."

He set into a prone position right beside her, getting into tune with the new rifle. Then, Alexis cleared her throat loudly, winking into her sniper scope.

"Say, this cold shoulder treatment is getting a little old..."

A second later, she fired a clean shot into a watermelon 600 yards away. Hadir rejoiced in his native language, "Your fruit killing skills are remarkable, Alexis!"

"Don't I know it," Alexis winked. He sensed her scheming face before she even wore it, "Alex, since we're out here swatting flies, what do you say to a friendly competition?"

That interested him, "What's the catch?"

"No catch," she shrugged. "One minute. Whoever shoots the most is the winner. And the loser..." There was a glint in her eyes, "Has to do anything the winner says."

His eyes landed briefly on her grinning lips before he agreed.

The playing field was set: plastic bottles, some rotten fruits and crates. His index finger rested snuggly on the trigger, head lowered to dial into the scope.

"Okay! One minute starts..." Farah paused, "Now!"

Pulling the trigger was an unconscious effort by now, a steady exhale later and in between heartbeats, he fired. Right off the bat, he shot through one plastic bottle nested across the highway. Beside him, Alexis missed her shot, mumbling about how the recoil was too strong.

"Is the prize not enticing enough?" he mused, aiming for his second trophy.

"Only if you lose," her airy laughter made it hard to suppress another smile.

Within fifty seconds, it was a tie. It came down to the final plastic bottle. It was difficult to line a shot with the sun glaring right at him. Still, Alex kept his shoulders levelled and spoke with confidence, "Any last words?"

"You first."

Exhale.

Shoot.

Heart hammering in his chest, they watched collectively as the single bullet tore through the plastic bottle, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

"And that's how it's done!"

Alex tilted back to reach Hadir's high-fives. "My brother, your biggest fan," Farah smiled.

For someone who lost a bet, she didn't play the role. With a charming smile, Alexis' fingers snaked the curve of his wrist. Alex pretended she didn't just jolt him awake with a simple touch, "So. What am I supposed to do?"

"I know just the thing," a brash grin slipped back onto Alex's face, thinking how he had more luck than skills. Or maybe it was an added motivator.

━━━━━━

Everything went wrong quick and fast.

When Price radioed with news, they expected the Wolf to scramble their way. What they didn't expect was Barkov's company.

Alexis split from the group, taking main overwatch at the next building beside them. Her injuries worried him. But their promise to inexplicably trust each other in the field triumphed his concerns. An enemy sniper across the highway was picking Farah's army off one by one. And Alexis... "Dropped his ass!"

That's my girl.

Winking into his own scope, he burst the tires off a suicide truck with a single shot. The one upside about this shit show was that Barkov's army helped clean up the Wolf's men for them.

He dodged back into cover just in time when a bullet whizzed past him. Shit, they found him. Farah panicked, "We need help! Where is Captain Price?"

"Won't make it in time! We need a Hail Mary for these fuckers!" Alexis shouted over the crossfire.

He spared a quick glance to check on her. In the blinding sunlight, her hair turned into a colour that reminded him of bitter tea. Several stray pieces of hair stuck against her sweaty neck. Alexis was still holding her weight, but it was obvious she was growing weary.

But no amount of energy could change the fact that they'd be boxed in by the enemies soon. And Farah and Hadir had too much honour in their cause to retreat. Alexis was right, they needed an ultimatum.

"I've got more firepower in the truck! Alexis, cover us! And Alex, follow me!" Hadir nudged him. Alex left the rifle at his nest and dropped down the ladder to follow Hadir.

"Hadir! Please tell me you have a big enough stone!" Alexis yelled past the gunfires.

"The biggest, sister! They won't know what hit them!" He followed Hadir in and out of different houses.

Without warning, a spray of bullets burst through the battlefield. Alex didn't think much of it until Farah yelled Alexis' name in a state of manic. His first instinct was to charge back in their direction, but Hadir kept a death grip on his forearm, reminding him they only had a small window to make this work.

This better fucking work, Alex thought. Dying on the Highway of Death would be too prophetic.

"My truck is full of explosives, very powerful explosives, it's time to use them! Open the tailgate, quickly! I'll cover us! Open it, Alex!"

The truck held canisters of– "Russian gas?" The entire time Alexis and he spent looking for leads of the stolen gas...

Hadir stole them?

"Yes! And now we send it back to them!"

It was too late. The tremors of an explosion, the screamings. They were lucky not to be swept in the explosion radius, but from the green gas that now terrorised the air, that was the least of Alex's worries. Soldiers irregardless friend or foe, doubled over to cough their lungs out. Blood sprayed ruthlessly in the air before they collapsed.

"You said we needed a big enough stone. This is it, Alexis!"

"No... No no no! Not like this–" Her sentence cut off.

Alex was on autopilot at this point, blindly following Hadir back into a house. Only Farah yelled through the comms, but it was radio silence from Alexis.

Please be okay. Although the raw coughs outside the bunker made him feel foolish for harbouring hope.

The gas worked quick, already blurring his vision. His head spun wildly and his throat scratched. The deadweight of his combat vest alone was enough to make him flop like a raggedy doll. His weakness fed his panic. Alex held onto the bunker's walls with every bit of strength still inside him.

Alexis, he recited over and over again. Alexandra Ward.

Bring her home.

Find her. Find her. Find her.

If Alex hoped the incantation could hold power for him, he was greatly mistaken. One step forward, he crumpled down the floor like an abandoned puppet.

"Hadir–" Alex's vision floated in and out, unable to see Hadir. He briefly registered a new weight over his face. A gas mask. Alex slurred through his words, "Alexis... Find..."

He fought against losing consciousness, not knowing when Farah ended up in the bunker, but only knew she was alone. "Alexis!" he weakly tried their comms again.

Fuck, stay the fuck awake. Not like this.

He channelled all the remaining energy he had, however little. He didn't stop, not even when his breathing slowed, his vision now appearing in phases, or his urge to vomit his guts out. Frantic, he reached for anything he could get his hands on–

His fingers flexed, not even able to feel the texture of leather of his gloves. All he could do was that, and blink to keep himself awake. Hadir was mumbling incoherently about something, not wearing even an ounce of regret from the mere silvers of sight Alex peeked through.

Hadir ran out the door like a coward. Some part of him prayed for the shred of Hadir's humanity to find Alexis.

Alex swore he saw the sun outside melt away, turning his world blue in twilight. His last thoughts were about a certain Bali sky.

━━━━━━

The buzzing of a helicopter shocked him awake. Alex shot up immediately, realising they were still in the bunker. It was deadly quiet, too quiet. Then he realised it was just his blocked hearing.

His world still swirled on its own axis when Price and Kyle came running in. Staring blankly when Price shouted something he didn't understand.

Alexis. The fog in his brain cleared. He kneeled his way over to the unconscious women who laid beside him. Using all his might, he propped her into his lap, fear-stricken when blood stained his hands.

Where did that come from? He hurriedly wiped the molten blood off her head, finding the opened stitches to be the root source.

"Holy shit, captain," Kyle deadpanned, a face full of dread, "This is bad."

Price wasted no time before scooping Alexis up and away to the helicopter.

Alex was thankful for Price who supported the weight he most definitely couldn't: the weight of Alexis dying in his arms.

━━━━━━

It must have been only a few hours of solitude Alex had since they returned to base. Laswell sent all of them to medical immediately—and Alex answered with a clean bill of health. He might be out of the woods, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

An unmistakable voice roared outside his ward, followed by someone yelling. He cursed loudly when his eyes snapped open. Did everything have to be white and smell of ammonia?

When his door swung open, he immediately shoved his trembling hands into the sanctuary of the hospital gown's pockets. In his doorway, his glazy vision told him someone was propped up by two other figures. Once his vision finally registered who she was, he bolted over. Much like him, she had an IV drip in toll.

Alex caught her by the waist when she faltered. "Farah," he gave her a once-over, "They cleared you?"

The commander nodded, stepping into his room with feeble steps. Although Alex suspected Farah's ashen face wasn't the result of the toxic gas. He passed her the tray of hot porridge that sat idly on his table.

His hands dropped when Farah eyed it in concern. He cleared his throat, jerking his head to the tray. As expected, Farah rejected it too.

"I'm sorry, Farah," he started, tracing the IV needle embedded in his forearm. For strange reasons, it calmed him. "Hadir..."

"Is my brother," Farah said sharply, "I should have known..." Alex rushed to her defence, but Farah raised her voice in both sadness and anger, "No Alex, I should have known. It is my job as his sister. Hadir was losing faith in the militia, but I pretended not to see it."

Alex averted his sight away. Unsure what to say to comfort Farah. He couldn't begin to understand, nor did he want to pretend he could. Farah rubbed an exasperated hand over her face, "Hadir killed most of my men. And..." Her voice wavered, eyes shining brighter under the blinding fluorescent lights.

"Alia," he said on her behalf.

How did everything go sideways so fast? Five hours ago, all of them were squeezed in the back of a truck, wind in their hair and laughter in their words. Alexis had promised Alia to a hamburger after this shitty war passed, because the war-torn girl had never seen one, let alone tasted one.

"Hadir will pay." Again, Alex remained silent. What could be worse than hunting your own brother? "And if Alexis... doesn't make it..."

Alex sighed, still rubbing circles around his IV. Farah's words all but gutted him.

Alexis tried going back for Alia, which prolonged her exposure. Her open wounds sent her condition from dangerous to life-threatening. The ringing in Alex's ears was so loud but he managed to hear something about chlorine poisoning.

Alex tiredly pressed his palm against his eyes, trying to force the memory of Alexis' rigid body out of his mind but only received another vision of her intubated with an oxygen ventilator. "The Cipro and antitoxin are a wild shot. They're more worried about the fluid in her lungs."

To Alex's surprise, Farah picked up the bowl of porridge to eat. The smallest of smiles tugged across her lips and somehow it made Alex feel much better. "I have no doubt she'll wake in a few hours. She's a tough one."

Alex remained silent.

"Maybe we should try dangling that forsaken ration pack she loves," Farah tried to joke, but her tone felt otherwise. A few seconds later, she continued, "Alexis survived worse. She will pull through."

Was Farah talking about St.Petersburg? It almost slipped his mind that she was the reason for Alexis' safe return. Well, her and... Hadir.

Hadir's betrayal would break Alexis... If Alia's death wouldn't.

Maybe guilt encouraged Farah to supplement the gaps in Alex's understanding, but she explained everything. From the burning house, Alexis' threatening to leave, to how she delivered Alexis safely to St.Petersburg. Whatever Alex knew was from the mission report, the gruesome details blacked out for clearance. The way she described Alexis' injuries induced nausea in him again.

But something else Farah said intrigued him. "A few weeks after Alexis left, the mercenaries returned to Urzikstan. Demanding blood for the American, they said."

Alex leaned out of his chair upon hearing this. It was a piece of the puzzle the rescue task force was couldn't collect. Even the joint task force of JSOC, CIA and SAS ran up cold leads as to who was behind the kidnapping.

"One of the men mentioned a name, Gaia."

‧͙⁺˚*·༓

a/n: alexandra... ward!!!!!!! her name is strictly need-to-know so we gotta thank alex for his pov lmao. & i'm pretty sure her injury counter is through the roof rn. but cheers to me for beating up my characters lol.

alia though... i'm absolutely gutted over this.

taglist: @shigarakiluvbot @wanderlustgiant @captain-pikas-world (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

#call of duty x oc #call of duty x reader #alex modern warfare #alex cod #echo 3-1 #john price #captain price #kyle garrick #farah karim #hadir karim #kate laswell #oc: alexis #ysrwrites: kl #killer instinct #modern warfare #fanfiction

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maylovexhs · 4 years

Text

everytime - DELICATE (Chp. 32)

Author’s Note: Sorry I postponed this a few days. I had it all written and tumblr gave me problems about posting it. (Thank god I didn’t delete the Google drafts). Anyways this is the last chapter of everytime for September. I’ll be back with more chapters a week before Halloween. See you soon and hope you enjoy - May

Catch up on everytime here

NYC. October 30, 2019. 1 PM.

How can you trust someone? How can you trust someone with your heart when they can walk out the door any second? How can you fall in love with someone when it could fall apart so easily?

I wasn’t afraid of all that. At least, I used not to be. I used to be so excited in a new relationship. Spending almost everyday together. Listening to your favorite music together. Showing them your favorite hidden places. Introducing them to your friends. Them being there for you on all your hard days. Getting to share your life with someone else. . . Who wouldn’t be excited by that?

I guess over the years with each relationship I had, I lost more and more of that excitement until I learned to expect disappointment. And now I felt that way with Ashton.

I like Ashton, a little more than I should but I do. He makes me feel like no one else. He makes me happy -too happy. I shouldn’t feel this happy. At least, not yet. It’s been less than a month I’ve been dating Ashton. It’s too early to be feeling this happy, or too attached. It was still new. I shouldn’t get attached so easily to things that could break, especially to people who can easily leave.

BRINGGG. BRINGGG.

I walked over to the little chair in my closet. I picked it up, seeing it was Harry calling. I pressed the side button of my phone, silencing his call.

I didn’t mean to avoid him. I just been too busy and I had a lot on my mind. I didn’t have the energy to talk to him. The last time I talked to him was last week, the day after my date with Ashton. Ever since then, I’ve been too busy catching up with family and friends to answer his calls. He knew that. He knew I would never avoid him on purpose. Well, he knew I don’t do that anymore.

I looked at my shelf of hats. I picked my black baker boy hat from the shelf and walked over to the mirror in my closet. I adjusted the hat on my head. It tied my blue jacket with my black jeans and boots.

Anyways, I was too busy getting ready to go out with Ashton to answer Harry’s call. I asked Ashton to go out to a museum with me yesterday. Of course, he said yes. I felt as I should confront my fear of being too attached by spending a day with Ashton. I didn’t know why I was so nervous around him but maybe today will shake that feeling out of me. Besides, Ashton was Ashton. He wasn’t like any of my exes. I had good reasons to trust him. I shouldn’t have to worry about him . . . but I did.

DING!

My heart stopped for a second hearing the elevator bell chime through my apartment. Ashton was here.

I looked in the mirror, shaking my head.

I have nothing to worry about. Completely nothing. I was nervous for no reason. It was all in my head.

“Y/N?” I heard Ashton call out for me.

“Coming!” I yelled out to him.

It’s all in my head. It had to be.

2:30 PM.

We were at the MOMA. The Museum of Modern Art. I’ve been countless of times here but each time was different than before. First time I came here was when I was seventeen with Ali, Jie Lin and Jessie. Next time I came, I was on a date with my first boyfriend, Lev. He was nice to be with him until he cheated on me. So much for first loves . . . A few times and a few boyfriends later, I’m standing here with Ashton in front of Louise Bourgeois’s spider sculpture.

“Okay, I get that the spider is protecting the cell. . .” Ashton spoke. “But did it have to be a spider?”

I looked to him. One of my exes said the same thing.

“What?” I asked him. “Are you afraid of spiders?”

“Well, if they’re that big . . .” Ashton said, looking up at the sculpture. “Yes”

I smiled, shaking my head.

“Spiders are a symbol of protection” I said. “Feminine protection. It’s a mother protecting her home and children”

Ashton squinted at the sculpture.

“Still didn’t have to be so creepy” Ashton said.

I rolled my eyes at him.

“I actually looked into her work after the first time I came” I told Ashton. “She draws from her trauma to make art. She didn’t have a good relationship with her mom. She was scared of her but her mother always protected her”

“Hence the spider” Ashton said.

I nodded at him.

“The spider” I said. “Intimidating yet protective”

I walked away from the sculpture, exploring more the museum. Ashton closely followed behind. I walked past a few artworks, stopping in front of one of my favorites in the museum. On the wall, there was a series of black and white photos, showing a woman wearing a dress made from only gloves.

“Lorraine O’ Grady. Untitled” Ashton said, reading the title work on the wall.

Ashton squinted his eyes, looking at the photos.

“So, Lorraine took these photos of her?” Ashton asked.

“Not quite” I said, shaking my head. “The woman in the glove dress is Lorraine”

“She made the dress out of gloves on purpose” I said, pointing at Lorraine in the photo. “She was a beauty pageant queen before she became an artist. The gloves represented class, acceptance. But since she was Black, she didn’t have that. Her work is mocking that”

Ashton looked to me.

“You told me you majored in business in college” Ashton said. “Did minor in art?”

“Actually, music” I said. “But I do still have a great memory of an art class I took sophomore year”

Ashton shook his head.

“Okay, I don’t buy that” Ashton disagreed.

“You don’t?” I asked him.

“No” Ashton said. “I can’t even remember my senior English class. There’s no way you saw this in an art class and remember it ten years later.”

“I didn’t say I saw it in my art class” I told him.

Ashton looked at me, staying silent. He bit his lip.

“I just come here a lot” I admitted.

Ashton crosses his arms.

“How many times?” He asked me.

“A few” I said.

Ashton didn’t drop his gaze from me.

“Fine, more than a few” I said. “But definitely under ten”

“So, who do you usually come with?” Ashton asked me. “There has to be someone who is willing to come here ten times with you”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly only one person” I said. “But Ali only came with me three times . . .”

“So, you came with other friends?” Ashton asked me. “Did you come here for dates?”

I looked up to Ashton, afraid to answer him. I could tell him I’ve been with almost every boyfriend of mine here. I could tell him it’s my favorite place on Earth and I wanted to show my exes it. I could tell him and he would understand that I wanted to share my favorite place with him now. Or I could tell him and he wouldn’t understand. He could think I was stupid for making my exes come here. He could think he wasn’t special enough for me since I took him somewhere I’ve been before. He could think that and want to break up with me.

“Y/N” Ashton said my name.

I blinked at him a few times, snapping out of my thoughts. I let out a little sigh.

“Would you hate me if I told you I brought some of my exes here?” I asked him.

A little smile formed on Ashton’s lips. I didn’t know if it was the museum’s lights reflected in Ashton’s eyes but there was a certain glisten in them. A familiar one I’ve been lucky to see before.

“You had dates here” Ashton said. “It’s a museum. Why wouldn’t you?”

“You’re not mad?” I asked him. “That I’ve been here before? With my exes?”

“Of course not” Ashton said. “You wouldn’t be mad if I told you you’re not the first girl I played my guitar for?”

I smiled at him, feeling a little better.

“No, no” I said. “It’s just this place is special to me and I wanted to share it with you because . . .”

Should I say it? Should I tell him I love him? Wasn’t it too early to tell him those three words? What we had was delicate and I didn’t want to risk it that soon. But maybe . . . he felt the same way. From the look in his eyes, he had to. He did fly to Paris to see me after all. What did I have to lose?

“I think I love you” I said. “I don’t know if it’s too early to say that but . . . I felt that way for a while. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel it. The last thing I want is to make you feel weird”

Ashton’s smile grew bigger.

“But I love you” I said. “Enough to care what you think love”

Ashton looked at me for a moment, his smile not flinching a bit. Suddenly, Ashton leaned into me, pressing his lips to mine. I closed my eyes, feeling taken back by him. I felt Ashton’s arms around my waist. I titled my head to the side, cupping Ashton’s cheeks. Ashton pulled me closer to him. I would have began to take off his jacket if I didn’t remember we were in a museum. I slowly pulled away from him, still keep my hands on his face. I opened my eyes to see Ashton smiling down on me.

“I love you too” Ashton said.

I blushed, letting out a little sigh. Ashton removed his hands off me. I let go of his cheeks.

“Umm . . .” I began to speak, catching my breath still. “Do you want to go to a party with me tomorrow?”

“A Halloween party?” Ashton asked me.

“Yeah” I said. “I’m going with my friends and maybe you would like to meet them. You don’t need to get dressed up if you want.”

“Really?” Ashton asked me with slight sarcasm in his voice. “Because I was planning to go as a character from a show. Miraculous Ladybug, you heard of it?”

I raised my eyebrow at him.

“Just say yes” I told him.

“Yes” Ashton said. “I would love to meet your friends and see you in a costume”

I smiled at him.

“Should we continue to look around?” I asked him.

“Lead the way” Ashton said. “You’ve been here before”

I took his hand in mine, dragging him along as I walked.

“Off to the escalators”

October 31st, 2019. 8 PM.

The elevator doors opened in front of me. I walked out and into the hallway. I walked down the hall, stopping at the door to Ashton’s apartment. I knocked hard on the door a few times. I stroke a pose in my costume, waiting for Ashton to open the door. Instead, Brayden, Ashton’s roommate, did.

I flashed a smile at him.

“Hi” I said to him. “Is Ashton ready?”

“Yeah, he’s taking a last minute piss” Brayden said.

Brayden looked up and down at my costume.

“Nice costume” Brayden said. “What are you?”

“Oh, I’m a superhero from a tv show” I said. “Probably don’t know of it but I’m Ladybug from Miraculous Ladybug”

Brayden looked as he lost interest the second I said superhero.

“What?” I asked him. “Don’t like superheroes?”

“Oh, I do” Brayden said. “Comics version at least-“

“I’m here” We heard Ashton say.

Brayden turned around looking at Ashton behind him. I smiled seeing who Ashton dressed up as.

“Oh my god” I said. “You’re not-“

“Luka” Ashton said. “Coincidently, we have the same hair color”

“You didn’t have to dress up” I told him. “And not from someone from a show I watch and you don’t”

“Who says I don’t watch Miraculous Ladybug?” Ashton said.

“You got into it?” I asked him.

“Adrien is seriously blind to Marinette’s feelings” Ashton said. “Luckily, Luka isn’t”

I smiled at Ashton. Brayden rolled his eyes at us.

“Are you two leaving or staying for a drink?” Brayden asked us.

Ashton looked to me.

“You’re in charge, Ladybug” Ashton said. “You choose”

I looked to Brayden. I think he suffered enough from our Halloween’s costumes.

“My friends are waiting for us” I said to Ashton. “We should get going”

Ashton walked out of his apartment. Brayden closed the door as Ashton and I started to walk to the elevator. Ashton pressed the button for the elevator. A DING was immediately heard the second he did. The doors opened for us.

“You really should know,” I said, walking into the elevator with Ashton. “I really ship Marinette with Cat Noir”

“Aw,” Ashton said, pretending to sound hurt. “I should have dressed up as him then”

“Oh, don’t worry” I said. “I feel like Luka will be fine for tonight”

Ashton pressed the lobby button on the side of the elevator. The doors closed in front of us. I felt the elevator began to move. I looked to Ashton, smiling at him.

He loves me. Enough to even dress in a stupid costume for me.

“What’s that look for?” Ashton asked me.

I looked away from him.

“Oh, nothing” I said. “Nothing at all”

London. November 1st, 2019. 6 PM.

*HARRY’S POV*

“Guess who finally learned to play Falling on the piano” I said into my phone.

I sent my voice message to Tom, sending a video of me playing the piano too. I looked at my phone, waiting for Tom to text back. After a minute of nothing, I set my phone down on the piano.

He was probably busy with Jenny or his family. They were a cute little family. Tom would always bring his son into the studio while we were writing. I smiled to myself, remembering one day when Tom’s son wouldn’t leave me alone. I wished to have a family - someday. I liked the fact that I got to build and share a life with someone. Having a family meant I got to share my life with more than one person. I couldn’t wait for that day.

I picked up my phone again, unlocking it. I went to my messages, feeling as I should call someone. I scrolled down, stopping at Y/N. I didn’t talk to her in a few days. From when we last spoke, she was excited to see her friends back home.

I tapped on her name. I held my phone to my ear, waiting for Y/N to pick up. She didn’t.

She was probably busy. Probably with Ashton too . . . Was she?

I looked down at my phone, tempted. I stared at the Twitter app on my phone. I tapped on it, giving in. I immediately searched Y/N. Pictures of her and Ashton were the top tweets.

STOP Y/N AND ASHTON MATCHED I CAN’T

OKAY BUT THE FACT THAT THEY WENT AS Y/N’S FAVORITE SHOW IF THIS ISNT LOVE IDK WHAT IS

LOOK HOW CUTE THEY ARE THEYRE LITERALLY TWO DORKS TOGETHER

I scrolled more down, seeing more photos and videos of Ashton and Y/N. They were pictured out at a Halloween party together, both in costumes. One photo was of them leaving the party, holding hands. Y/N was smiling at Ashton. One video showed them talking at the party. Another picture showed Y/N, Ashton, Ali and Ezra.

I locked my phone, setting it back down on the piano.

He met her friends. Of course, he would meet them. He is her boyfriend after all but . . . isn’t is too soon?

I shook my head.

What am I talking about? Y/N’s relationships were none of my business just as mine weren’t hers. Besides, I introduced Camille to my friends soon after I dated her. I shouldn’t even care that Ashton met her friends quicker than I did.

I looked down the piano keys.

He met her friends before I did. It took six years for Y/N to introduce her friends to me. It only took him a month. I don’t understand it. What does Y/N see in him? What does she see in him and not in me? She trusts him so easily when I have been here for six years. I’ve always been there for Y/N and still, she couldn’t trust me enough around her friends.

Granted, there was reasons. Y/N and I always were too busy with our careers. We never could spend more than a few days together without the other having to leave. And I remember what Y/N said that night on her balcony a few months ago. She said so herself she had a hard time trusting people when we met but what about after? We’ve been friends for six years. She could have introduced me to her friends sooner than she did. She could have.

I sighed, feeling frustrated.

What did she see in Ashton but not me? She knows how much I’ve been there for her. She knows how much she means to me. I’ve shown it over and over again. I was there for her when Ashton wasn’t. Did she tell Ashton about her terrible parents? Did she tell him how she almost got married by mistake? Did she tell him about her miscarriage? She could tell me all that but won’t see what I have to offer?

I stared at the piano keys. I gently pressed on one key.

Maybe I was jealous. But I had the right to be. I’ve known Y/N for longer. I’ve been there for her. She knows that but refuses to accept it.

I pressed on the same piano key again. And again. And again.

I had the right to be jealous. I had the right to be angry. I felt used and lonely. I had the right to be.

I pressed down on the key once more.

“I know that you don’t. . .” I said. “But if I asked you if you loved me, I hope you lie to me”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #hs imagine #hs imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #everytime chapters #everytime HS

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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years

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Heart and Soul - Part 2

SUMMARY: Private music teacher Killian Jones wakes one morning to the sound of his ten year old neighbor playing the bane of his existence: the recorder. In order to keep his sanity, he offers to teach Henry to play any other instrument – though partially because it means he gets to spend more time with Henry’s mother, Emma Swan.

READ PART ONE: ao3 // tumblr // // PART TWO ON AO3

TW: mentions of alcoholism, abusive parents, backstory that goes a little deeper than necessary -- you know, the things I do best, apparently.

a/n: This fic was inspired by waking up one morning over the summer to hear my neighbor playing the trumpet – though, thankfully, Sam is a much better musician than a beginner recorder-player. I complained about it on discord, and bam! this story appeared, a joint effort between myself and Meredith (@captainsjedi) . Even though she was unable to help me finish it because of her busy work schedule, her ideas are riddled through the story, not to mention the incredible art she made for it.

Thanks to @csconcertseries and @clockadile, who gave me a reason to finish this story! It feels really good to actually finish something that I’ve been working on in the midst of the chaos of the world right now, so even though the event was a month ago, I’m still super thankful for the opportunity.

-- -- --

Waking up to a message from Tink Greene on an October Thursday morning is one of the last things he expected, not having spoken to her besides the friendly neighborhood hellos since he broke off their dalliance the previous spring.

The contents of the message are even more of a surprise:

I've been hearing Henry Swan play in one of the practice rooms, and I think he would make a great addition to our student showcase for the Winter concert. He told me you've been teaching him, which explains a lot. Do you think you and he could work together on something by the beginning of December for him to play?

Of course, the first thing he wants to do is share the news with Emma. He should probably shower first. And maybe actually answer Tink.

I think that’s a grand idea. Henry has shown more growth than some of my adult students. Could you get me a song in the next week or so?

Her response comes rather quickly, given the original message was from two hours before, but he imagines there’s not much for the elementary music teacher to do all day. I’m thinking either First Noel or Hark the Herald Angels. It depends on which the recorder students are better at. He also may play it with a beginner violin student, Violet, who’s doing exceptionally well. I think he knows her.

He wonders if this is the same Violet from his soccer team, the one the boy has brought up a few times in conversation — but Tink doesn’t need to know that. Hell, he probably shouldn’t even know that, though he’s thankful that Henry trusts him enough to update him on his life during their lessons or some of the nights Killian finds himself staying for dinner.

But he still needs a response. Thanks again for those recorder students, by the way. I turned down a whole dozen of them within the first two weeks of school, the infernal instrument.

When Tink only responds with a few emojis — he tosses his phone back on the bed and pulls himself up, wondering if he is too late to meet Emma for her morning run.

So he texts her. Because that’s something they’re doing now, after her inviting him to some of Henry’s games and his joining them for dinner most nights after Henry’s lessons. It wouldn’t even be the first time she has allowed him to join her on her morning run, invited him into her place of safety and security.

(He would like to think of himself as a relatively fit human, but even he will admit that three miles, Emma’s regular distance, is a little much for him to start with, though he has been working on it more and more.)

Is it too late for me to join in on the day’s physical activities?

Even he is surprised by the pounding of his heart in his chest as he rummages through his drawers to try to find his athletic shorts, waiting for her answer, hoping for a positive.

The soft ding of her response almost causes him to jump out of his skin. Just getting ready to go, actually. I’ll meet you outside?

Perfect, is all he needs to say, splashing some cold water in his face as he stares at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t even realize the strong grip he has on the edge of the sink until he lets go to reach for his toothbrush.

“Christ, Killian,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head as he runs his toothbrush under the water. It’s only a run.

But his nerves don’t disappear. If anything, they only grow exponentially, and by the time he meets her on the sidewalk outside her house, he is almost shaking from the adrenaline.

Good thing they’re going for a run, exerting this pent-up energy. He may even be able to keep up with her the whole time.

He spends the first block trying to figure out how to bring up his exciting news. And the second. But when she starts to slow down, asks him how his week has gone, he can’t keep it in any longer.

“Henry’s music teacher asked me this morning if I thought he should perform in the winter showcase.”

He can sense her excitement almost immediately, even before she slows to a stop, wiping the smooth sheen of sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her t-shirt before turning to him, the smile on her face making the physical exertion worth it. “And?”

“Of course I agreed. I know I’ve told you before, love, but your son is a very talented musician.”

She is still for a moment, looking somewhere over his shoulder, before she nods, gesturing for them to continue. “So, what, would it be a solo? Or would he be playing something with you?”

“Actually, Tink mentioned asking one of the girls in his class to play with him. A violinist, I think.”

“I wonder if it’s the same girl from his soccer team. He told me they met in orchestra, and I think that’s what she plays.”

“Violet, right? That’s what Tink said”

“Yeah, I think so. He’s got a bit of a crush, if you ask me, but don’t say anything to him about it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

“That’s so exciting, though. The kid deserves some excitement, with all the shit his dad is putting him through.”

At first, Killian isn’t sure that Emma even meant to say it, if they’re at that point in their friendship where she shares things like this with him.

“You know he’s trying to move away? Something about his dad giving him a job in the city, a corner highrise apartment, a position as a big shot in his company, when Neal can’t even manage to get his child support in on time every month.”

Now he really doesn’t know what to say — but she continues anyway.

“I try not to say anything bad about him around Henry, but my god, he just makes it so fucking difficult.”

Killian can’t help the chuckle that pushes through his lips. “I would assume my mum would have said the same about my father, if she ever had the chance.”

A moment too late, he realizes that it’s only the second time he’s mentioned his father, the only other being the first time they really talked when they shared lunch in her kitchen.

She doesn’t answer. He counts the time ticking away by their footsteps on the pavement, by the pounding of his heart in his chest.

She says nothing. They go almost a full block, slowing only to make sure they’re safe to cross the street.

He doesn’t know what he did. He doesn’t know what to do. So he just focuses on the pounding of his shoes against the pavement. Left, right, left, right.

“Sorry, I…” she says finally, the words going nowhere, but he feels the warmth of her fingers around his wrist, pulling him to a stop. “Can we go get lunch? Maybe that little place on Main Street? I know that’s not our regular route, it’s a little far out of the way, but—”

“Sure, love,” he says, not even needing to hear the rest of what she’s trying to say. Whatever it is, he will give her the time she needs to tell him — but there are more appropriate places for these sorts of conversations than on the sidewalk.

She asks the waitress for a table in the back, further away from the door and the line of regulars sitting at the bar, spending what feels like hours looking over the menu before the waitress returns with their drinks and to take their order. All she orders is a bowl of soup, Killian strangely in the mood for one of their salads, but the silence between them only returns when the waitress leaves their table.

Killian doesn’t mind, really. She decided that she wanted to tell him something, unlock some of the secrets of her past, which is more than he could have asked for.

“I was, uh, found outside an orphanage when I was just a few days old.”

Okay, it’s certainly not what he expected. It’s far more personal than he expected — but she’s telling him, and that’s the important part.

“I have no idea who my parents are, anything about my family, only that they wanted to name me Emma.”

Pausing, she takes a deep breath. A sip of her water. Her eyes don’t leave the spot on the table that they’re glued to.

He doesn’t mind.

“I was in and out of fosters for most of my childhood, and that’s how I met David. His mother was my last-ditch effort when I was seventeen, and if she didn’t work, I was going to be on my own. But, thankfully, she was an angel on this earth, and I spent a good few years with her, even after I aged out and as I went to college. I still think that’s why I kept coming back to Storybrooke, because it was the only place that felt like home, especially after everything that happened with Neal, except now he wants to leave Henry even more, move hours away to the city and see his own son even less than he does now.”

Still, Killian stays silent. If he’s honest with himself, he really doesn’t know what to say in the first place, and he gets the feeling that there aren’t very many people who just let Emma talk.

He will gladly be the one as often as she gives him the opportunity.

“Does Henry know that he’s trying to leave yet?”

She scoffs, looking up at him for a moment. Just a moment.

“I told him he had to be the one to tell Henry, to answer all of his questions. That he wasn’t allowed to just up and leave. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to do it anyway.”

“I know it might not be want you want to hear, love, but sometimes it’s better for the parent to just up and leave if that’s what they need to do. He’ll still have to get you child support, no matter where he is.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

He doesn’t even know how to read her voice. She doesn’t sound upset, per say, but there’s definitely something much deeper than just curiosity.

“It’s just what my mother used to say, that we’d probably be better off without him than with him. But I can only hope that Neal is nowhere near the terror that Brennan Jones was.”

She nods, the very corner of her lips ticking up for just a moment. Says nothing.

And then it hits him: “Though, I suppose having a terrible dad around is something compared to having no one, no matter how much you may wish he wasn’t there.”

“Jackpot,” she mumbles. “But as hard as it is to admit, Neal really isn’t a terrible person. He can even be a good dad, when he tries to be, and Henry really looks up to him, which I don’t think he realizes. I just don’t understand how he can choose a job over his own son.”

“Granted, I don’t have the pleasure of offspring yet, but I would like to believe that I would feel the same as you do.”

Finally, she smiles. Actually makes eye contact with him. Warms his heart a few degrees. Just as the waitress brings their food.

Henry practically perfects the song — The First Noel — before Thanksgiving break, a whole three weeks before the concert. Killian even reaches out to Violet’s parents to offer to have them practice together in his studio instead of after hours at the school — or at either of their houses, which is a move that both Emma and Violet’s parents appreciate.

(Plus, with Henry taking the lead on their rehearsals, it gives him more time to sit in the corner of the studio, talking with Emma.)

They’ve built up a fine friendship since the first day of school, adding more weekly dinners as a trio, with Killian even joining Emma’s gym to work out with her with the weather getting colder.

Killian would even go so far as to say Emma and her lad have become a regular part of her life, though he still didn’t expect the day when she asked him out, sitting across the table from her brother and next to her at the Thanksgiving dinner table.

(What was different about this time? He had been to dinners with them, had spent time alone with Emma, but there was something about this that was different. He would be willing to bet it was the setting, the pressure of the situation.)

“So, Henry, your mom told me about your solo in the winter concert!” Mary Margaret says excitedly, trying to find a subject that Henry can take part in, since most of Emma and David’s conversation has centered around work.

Killian turns to the boy, seated at the far end of the table, just in time to watch his face light up in a smile. “Technically, it’s a duet, me and this one girl in my class, Violet —”

“The one from your soccer team? With the purple streaks in her hair?” David asks, the rest of the table watching Henry’s face turn bright red.

"Oh!" Mary Margaret practically squeals, which makes every eye at the table turn towards her, which Killian is sure Henry is thankful for — until she continues. “Do you have a crush on her?”

Henry sighs, his eyes falling back to his plate as his cheeks continue to turn as red as his shirt. Instead of answering Mary Margaret’s question, he says, “You know, I never understood why that’s what they call it.” His voice is small, incredibly embarrassed, as he swirls his fork around his pile of mashed potatoes. “Why is it a crush?”

Emma laughs, gently setting her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Aw, come on, you don’t have to embarrass him,” she jokes.

“Well, then,” David says, setting his fork down on his plate so he can cross his arms across his chest. “Should we talk about your little crush instead?”

“David!” both Mary Margaret and Emma say at the same time, and Killian can’t keep the heat from rushing to his face.

Why are you embarrassed, you idiot? he asks himself, trying his best to keep his thoughts off his face. They’re not even talking about you.

Unless… they are.

He almost doesn’t allow himself to even think it. Because it’s insane to even assume it.

And then Emma rolls her eyes.

Looks at him.

Pulls her bottom lip up between her teeth.

Blushes deeper.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

He tries to act like he missed her look, turns his attention down to his plate of food, but he’s sure it doesn’t work.

“Why can we bring up Henry’s and embarrass the poor boy, but I can’t do the same to my sister?” David asks, a wide grin spread across his face. Without even meaning to, Killian’s gaze rises, meeting David’s from across the table.

David winks.

Shit.

“You’re at least going to his concert together, right?” David asks, the same smirk still covering his features.

“I mean, we hadn’t really discussed it, but—” Emma starts, but Henry cuts her off:

“You mean, like a date?”

“No,” both Killian and Emma try at the same time, but it doesn’t work.

Mary Margaret’s poker face falters, turning into a grin that seems to brighten her already-shining aura. David somehow looks even more smug, though Killian wouldn’t have thought it possible.

And Emma, whose gaze Killian is very purposefully avoiding, is turning redder by the moment.

He’s sure he is, too.

(Because he desperately wants it to be a date.)

The next three weeks pass in a bit of a blur, between the holiday drunks that Emma has to deal with at the station and the last-minute lessons before recitals and concerts. It feels like the blink of an eye between their conversation at Mary Margaret and David’s thanksgiving dinner and Killian knocking on the door of the Swan’s house, making sure his light blue shirt is tucked into his dark jeans as he waits for someone to let him in. The waistcoat may have been a little more than necessary for an elementary school concert, sure, but there was talk before of Neal taking Henry and some of his friends for ice cream, giving Emma and Killian a chance to go out for dinner together.

Maybe even like a date, he allows himself to think.

It’s Emma that opens the door, and when he sees the same red dress that he remembers from last year’s concert, he’s glad he decided to go with the waistcoat — he would have been undoubtedly under-dressed without it.

Because, damn is she perfect, her golden hair falling softly over her shoulders and her lips a shade of red almost as vibrant as her dress. He tries his best to hide it, but his breath gets trapped in his chest.

She smiles. “Hey.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Killian, speak. He clears his throat. “Uh, hi. Is the lad almost ready?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Henry yells from just out of Killian’s sight, most likely from around the corner in the living room.

“How are you feeling, Henry?” Killian asks just as he comes around the corner, the bowtie of his suit unbuttoned but otherwise looking incredibly dapper from his gelled-back hair to the tips of his polished dress shoes.

He shrugs. “A little nervous, I guess, but that’s normal, right?”

Killian smiles. “Aye. Completely normal. But I know you’re going to be exceptional.”

At this, Henry smiles, slipping past Killian and out the front door. “Thanks. Now let’s go!”

Emma fiddles with her nails when she’s nervous. This is something Killian learns very quickly, sitting beside her in one of the front rows of the auditorium, especially after having noticed it in the car on the way here. It doesn’t distract him, per se; instead, it gives him something to focus on instead of his own nerves, the shaking of his leg, chewing on his bottom lip.

“He’s going to do great,” Mary Margaret says from the other side of Emma, probably sensing her nervousness the same way.

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” Emma says, never taking her eyes off of the index finger she is focused on. “I just—” she lets out her breath through pursed lips, turning to look over her shoulder to where Neal is sitting at the end of the row behind them. Killian follows her gaze there, only to watch his attention turn from the cell phone in his hand to the watch on his wrist. “He wants to tell Henry tonight, that he’s accepted his father’s job offer. He leaves at the end of the month, but I told him he wasn’t allowed to ruin Henry’s concert by telling him before it. I can’t really even argue with it, he at least listened to what I told him.”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret mutters, setting one of her hands on top of Emma’s, which halts her ability to pick at the skin around her index finger.

“I’ve always been surprised he stuck around this long in the first place,” David— helpfully— adds, arms crossed over his chest.

Killian can feel the daggers that Mary Margaret shoots at her husband when she turns to him.

Emma manages to let out a single, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “You’re right, though, David. I never expected him to stay around after we broke up, so the fact that he’s waited this long is a bit of a miracle.”

“That’s not going to make it any easier for Henry, though,” Mary Margaret comments.

Emma just shrugs, but when she goes to respond, the house lights quickly dim to black, the spotlight shining on Belle French, the school librarian and interim principal, standing at the podium. In moments, the entire room is hushed.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” she says, the gooseneck mic only catching the last few words, the auditorium humming with low feedback. “As you all know, we here in Storybrooke love to do all we can to ensure students have the opportunities to practice the arts they choose, and music is at the core of this. Every year, we are proud to hold this showcase for our elementary students, giving them the opportunity to show off their talents to the community, as well as our elementary band and orchestra groups, who have all been practicing regularly since at least the beginning of the year. To open our concert for tonight, we have the elementary orchestra group, led by our music teacher, Miss Tink Greene.”

The auditorium fills with applause as the spotlight fades away and the curtains open to reveal a stage full of musicians, smiling out at their families and friends in the audience. When Emma turns her attention to Killian out of the corner of her eye, the smile spread across his face conjures one of her own. He looks so proud, with many of the students on the stage students of his own.

Halfway through the second song, Mary Margaret leans towards Emma, setting her hand on her arm. “I always forget just how awful elementary orchestra concerts are,” she whispers.

Emma lets out a light laugh, nodding. “Like, I’m glad Henry found something he enjoys doing, don’t get me wrong, but listening to him play a botched song on a piano and listening to a bunch of them play half-tuned violins are two different worlds.”

“Swan,” Killian whispers, his eyes never leaving the stage, even as he reaches over to set his hand on her arm. “Shush.”

Even as she rolls her eyes, Emma can’t help but smile at him. But she also can’t help herself from leaning closer to Mary Margaret and whispering, “Killian wants us to stop talking.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his sigh, but he doesn’t move to respond to her.

He leaves his hand on her arm, though.

Neither of them seem to care. Neither of them make a move.

The second song comes to an end, and they quickly begin the third — the final song, Emma is relieved to hear.

They’re followed by a blonde girl in a bright red shirt and black slacks, who plays “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” on her cello; a small group of students introduced as the “elementary jazz band” who play a somewhat-recognizable jazzy rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”; and a trio that plays “I Saw Three Ships” in a round on their flute, clarinet, and violin.

Killian, of course, knows many of them, whispering things like, “Her mother tried to ask me out during one of our lessons,” and “They have the cutest little dog that really likes to lick my legs when they bring it with to pick him up,” when they are introduced.

(Emma wonders what Killian would say about her if he were whispering to someone else.)

And then next up is Henry. When the curtain opens, she doesn’t realize that she has changed her grip to holding Killian’s hand in her own — or, at least, one of them moved to hold the hand of the other — until she feels the way he straightens his shoulders, sucks in a breath between his teeth. But when she turns to him, taking her eyes away from her son, getting ready to perform, for just a moment, he meets her eyes.

Smiles.

Winks.

(The bastard.)

And turns back to the stage.

She’s glad they’re in a darkened auditorium, because she feels the way her face warms at the realization, hopes that Mary Margaret can’t hear the pounding in her chest that is only silenced when Henry starts to play, Violet playing along with him.

It’s much better than the sound of the full orchestra, Emma notices almost immediately, or any of the other groups that have played. It at least doesn’t sound like a bunch of screaming, dying animals.

Just sitting there watching him, she is overwhelmed by a sense of pride, something that washes over her like a wave as his fingers move perfectly across the piano keys. (Sure, it might not be completely perfect, maybe a handful of notes a little off between the two of them, but Emma doesn’t care.)

Killian turns to her, just slightly, if only because he knows just how bright the smile spread across her face has to be.

(He’s right.)

It warms him. It makes his heart pound in his chest, just how happy her happiness makes him. Of course, that’s not the point of taking on dedicated students like Henry, but if one of the perks of being able to share the joy of music with the lad is spending time with (falling absolutely head over heels for) his mother, he will certainly be the last to complain.

But, in looking over at her, he also happens to glance over her shoulder, where Neal is still sitting at the end of the aisle behind them.

Not even looking at the stage, his cell phone still in his hand.

Over the shoulders of Emma and Mary Margaret, David makes eye contact with him, raising one of his eyebrows in question, which Killian only responds to by nodding in Neal’s direction. David turns around, and Killian can tell by the rise and fall of his shoulders that he sighs. When he turns towards Killian again, he rolls his eyes.

The last group to play is the elementary band, who proves to be much easier on the ears than the orchestra. It’s not very large, just a dozen or so students spread across the three rows of chairs, with three percussionists standing in front of various instruments at the back of the stage.

And then, after the first song, out come the recorders.

It appears Emma spoke (thought?) too soon, trying her best not to wince through their rendition of “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas,” thankfully aided by some of the other band members to make it somewhat less terrible — but by a very small margin.

(Killian, however, does not have the same self-control, and every scrunch of his face is paired with the tightening of his hand, which still happens to be wrapped around Emma’s — though neither of them are complaining.)

The first words out of Neal’s mouth, while everyone else praises his performance, are, “You ready to get out of here, kid?”

The question is met with a glare from the rest of the group, all except Henry who just looks confused.

“Aren’t we taking some of my friends? We have to wait for them.”

Neal sighs, looking at his watch. “Well, can you rally them together? I have to be up early tomorrow so I don’t want to be out too late.”

“If you want us to, David and I would be willing to take Henry instead,” Mary Margaret says, her grip on David’s hand tightening to stop him from reacting.

Henry doesn’t answer, just turns his attention up at Neal, as if waiting to see how he responds.

He grinds his teeth together. “No, of course I’ll take him, I just — it’s been a long week and I’m a little exhausted.”

“I’m gonna go find Avery and Violet,” Henry says, obviously a little let down by Neal’s response, before walking away from the group — and, now that he’s gone, Emma allows herself to finally respond to him.

“I can’t believe you!”

Neal just rolls his eyes. Killian feels his jaw tighten, and David crosses his arms across his chest.

“God, Emma, just stop overreacting. You all knew this was going to happen someday, even Henry.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to tell him today. He just had his first performance, his first solo, and all he wants from you is for you to be proud of him, not to hear that you’re moving away.”

“Listen, you told me I had to wait until after the concert. The concert is over.”

“You know damn well this isn’t what I meant!” Emma moves to lunge towards him, but Killian catches her arm, holding her back.

“Not here, love,” he whispers. For a moment, Emma’s eyes are wide with anger, but when they meet his, they soften, and she nods.

Neal scoffs. “You want to call me out for being inappropriate, yet here you are, dating Henry’s music teacher.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes.

We’re not dating. Killian feels the words on the tip of his tongue, but he bites them back — this is neither the time nor the place, and besides—

“That’s none of your damn business, first of all,” Emma bites. "I will kiss and date and sleep with whoever the hell I want to, you have no say in it anymore."

"You slept with him?!"

"Again, it's none of your business whether I did or not, Neal. That's the point. God, I don’t have the patience to deal with you right now. Just make sure Henry gets to soccer practice on time tomorrow, please.”

“Now you’re going to tell me how to be his dad? Like I haven’t been doing it for ten years?”

Killian has a feeling that if his hand weren’t still wrapped around Emma’s wrist, she would have lunged again.

“Come on, Emma, let’s go,” David says, stepping between them. “He’s not worth it,” he whispers.

Still, Emma doesn’t move.

Killian tugs on her hand. “Come on, love.”

She takes a breath, apparent by the rise and fall of her shoulders, before she nods, finally turning back to face him.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They find Henry in the music room behind the auditorium, gathering his belongings. “Hey, kid,” Emma calls, walking towards him. “We’re gonna head out, okay?”

He whips around, stopping in the middle of his conversation with Avery. “Okay!” He rushes across the music room to wrap his arms around Emma’s middle. “Thanks again for coming!”

“Of course we came, lad,” Killian says, mussing his hair with a smile.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mary Margaret chirps from behind them.

“But you have fun with your dad, alright?” Emma says. “Want me to take your dress shoes home?”

“I don’t want to stay at dad’s tonight, I want to come home with you.”

“Henry, come on, we talked about this already. Your dad asked for you to stay there tonight even though it’s not his night, and you have practice in the morning anyway. Please?”

Suddenly, his eyes light up. “Why? Are you two going on a date?”

David scoffs. Mary Margaret laughs, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. Killian is useless against the drop of his jaw. But it’s Emma’s answer that Henry laughs at: “What? No, come on, we’re—we’re—” she stutters.

Henry puts his hands on his hips, his eyebrows high on his forehead. Killian recognizes the look immediately; he’s gotten the exact look from Emma before, on quite a few occasions.

“I can assure you, lad, I’m just taking your mother home.”

This time, it’s David who laughs, just a single bark — but it’s all Killian needs to really hear what he has just said, and he quickly feels as heat rises to the tips of his ears.

But Henry doesn’t hear it that way, thankfully, and instead flashes a large smile at them. “Then you can just take me home, too.”

“Henry, please,” Emma says, crossing her arms over her chest. Henry’s smile disappears, and he nods even as his gaze falls to the ground.

“Okay, mom.”

He goes to turn away from them, but Emma reaches out to put her arm on his shoulder. “Hey,” she whispers, waiting for him to look back up at her before she smiles. ‘C’mere,” she whispers, leaning down as she holds her arms out to him.

Henry complies, even managing to crack a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow after practice, alright?”

“You’ll pick me up?”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, mom.”

After quickly hugging Mary Margaret and high-fiving David and Killian, the four of them make their way out of the building to their cars.

“So, are you guys going on a date?” The question practically explodes out of Mary Margaret, and David is useless against the smile that spreads across his face.

“No,” Emma says, but Killian takes a chance and shrugs.

“What do you say, Swan? Want to get something to eat?”

No one looks more surprised by this turn of events than Emma herself. Killian’s glad they’re out from under the harsh phosphorescence of the school lights so the redness of his face is (hopefully) less obvious.

David’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. “Do I have to give you guys the talk?”

Killian doesn’t know how to respond, truthfully; instead, Emma hits his arm with the back of her hand. “Oh my god, David.”

Mary Margaret giggles — honest-to-God giggles.

“We’re leaving now,” Emma says, and Killian certainly doesn’t argue.

“So, do you want to eat, or not?” Killian asks, finally breaking the silence in the car as they pull out of the parking lot.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Emma mumbles, failing to hide the way she fiddles with her nails. “Wherever you want to go.”

He smiles. “I know just the place.”

Much to Emma’s surprise, he takes them home. To his house, more specifically, though for a moment she fears that he will drop her off at her front door and disappear forever. Instead, he holds open his front door for her, as nervous as she is.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asks, helping her shrug out of her coat, which he then drapes over the back of a dining room chair. “Water? Wine? I probably have some whiskey somewhere around here, if you’re looking for something harder.”

Emma smiles, finding his obvious nerves charming. “Wine would be great.”

He hums, pulling a bottle of white out of the fridge. Of course, with the way his nerves have been acting up, he’s surprised he hasn’t already started rambling, so he’s not surprised when he opens his mouth and is unable to stop words from falling from his lips. “Liam always told me that the best way to impress a lady is to cook for her, but I was probably not supposed to divulge that information on a first date.” He hands her the glass of wine, then pours one for himself. “I was half-hoping this is where we ended up, you know. That’s why I prepared a little bit, why I thawed this piece of salmon and made sure I had what I needed for my mother’s favorite pasta recipe.” Quickly, he turns to face her, unable to stop his hand from scratching the spot behind his ear. “I hope that’s okay, now that I’m thinking about it, I never even asked—”

Emma holds her hand out, resting it against his hand on the counter. “Killian,” she says softly, and between that and her smile, he snaps his mouth shut. “Whatever you have planned, I’m sure it will be perfect.”

He wants to dive across the kitchen counter and kiss her right there, the salmon be damned. But that’s not what he does, holding himself back. Instead, he just smiles at her.

“You have too much faith in me, love,” he says, forcing himself to move to begin readying dinner.

“Maybe I’ve just gotten to know you enough to be sure that I can trust you.”

God, I love this woman, he thinks to himself, only allowing himself to pause for a moment as the realization hits him, knowing that more will draw her attention for sure. And if he called her out, asked what he was thinking about, he’s not sure he would be able to stop himself from telling her.

Because it’s true, he realizes — there’s no use hiding from it anymore. It’s true that he has fallen absolutely in love with Emma Swan, and there’s no going back now.

But the silence of the kitchen — of the whole house — gets to him before the oven is even preheated, and he has to find something to talk about before he absolutely loses his mind.

“Your lad did a great job tonight, you know,” he says, daring to glance at her over his shoulder, if only to catch the smile that he knows is on her face.

“Well, he had an incredible teacher,” she says.

“That may be true, love, but he had real talent when he started.”

“Which really is a surprise.” Emma tells him, not for the first time. “I know neither Neal or I have any musical ability, or Neal’s dad. Mary Margaret used to play the flute, but she’s not actually family, and probably hasn’t picked one up since college.”

“I know you never knew them, but maybe it’s from one of your parents.” This time, when he glances over his shoulder, she has her thumbnail between her front teeth, so he adds, “Or maybe it’s just him. It’s not unheard of.”

She attempts to smile, but it doesn’t stick. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he turns back to the counter, adding the last few sprigs of rosemary to the pan with the salmon before sticking it in the oven.

“That’ll take a little while longer than the pasta, so I’m going to wait a bit before I start that,” he starts, but when he turns back to her, she’s gone.

Shit.

“Okay,” she calls from the living room, which slows the terrified pounding of his heart almost immediately. Even after months of friendship with Emma Swan, he still somehow thought she would have walked out on him.

“So we, uh, have a little bit of time,” he says, finding his own glass of wine before following her voice into the living room. Much to his surprise, she’s sitting on the piano bench, her long, thin fingers moving gently across the keys, but not making a sound.

“You know,” she says, turning towards him as he fills the space between them. “I do know how to play one thing on the piano.” With a shy smile, she moves over on the bench to give him room to sit with her, patting it gently when he doesn’t move to join her.

But he’s useless against her, and can fight it no longer, so he does, trying to focus on something other than the warmth of her leg pressed against his. “Oh yeah? What is that?”

He's afraid to hear the answer, knows what she's about to play down deep in his soul, but he still cringes when he hears the first few notes: “Heart and Soul.”

"Anything but that, love. Literally anything."

“I don’t know about you, Killian Jones,” Emma says, letting him slip her jacket back over her arms before he leads her to the door. “But I don’t think I’ve ever had a better first date.” Even in the low light of the entryway, Killian knows that Emma can see the blush rising to his cheeks. “And I know I said it before, but that pasta was incredible. Really, one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, thank you, Swan,” he says, ducking his head to avoid her bright eyes. “I’m glad you think so. Both about the pasta and the date.”

“I may even let you walk me home.”

He’s at a loss for words — and even questions his own ability to speak when she follows up by running her tongue across her bottom lip.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“You’re a true gentleman, Killian Jones.”

“Always.” He even feels brave enough to wink at her, holding open the front door to let her through.

Their walk across the street is silent, save the light chuckle Killian allows when Emma threads her arm through his.

“This is my stop,” she says, turning to face him on her front porch. But instead of moving to open the door, she reaches out to take one of his hands in hers. Then the other.

“Yeah, I should, uh, let you get home,” he says, realizing that it is, in fact, the very last thing he wants to do.

She looks up at him, her green eyes bright in the front lights. “Yeah,” she whispers, barely audible. Swipes her tongue across her bottom lip again. And then leans forward, letting go of one of his hands only to wrap hers around his neck, and presses her lips against his. It’s soft, it’s gentle, it’s —

Perfect. Everything he imagined kissing Emma Swan would be.

And that’s why he loses himself in it, in her, for just a moment, living for the swipe of her tongue against his, before backing away. She takes a deep breath before opening her eyes, a soft smile spread across her lips.

“I don’t usually do this on a first date, love,” he whispers, leaning closer to her so he can rest his forehead against hers.

“Me neither,” she says back, her smile growing. “So take me out again tomorrow night and we can do it again.”

“Deal.”

She kisses him again, a single peck on the lips, and turns away.

tags: @let-it-raines @shireness-says @wellhellotragic @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @teamhook @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @superchocovian @carpedzem @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @lfh1226-linda @singersdd @tiganasummertree @alexannam16 @therealstartraveller776 @spartanguard @jennjenn615 @pepperspotts

#my writing #megan writes things #megan finishes things #wordsbymeganmichael #cs fics #cs ff #captain swan #I don't even know how to tag things anymore

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allicekitty13 · 4 years

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Trick Or Treat

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Alice has to take her little sister trick or treating, Jasper has a surprise in store.

Friday, October thirtieth

It was Friday afternoon, and Alice Brandon was impatiently waiting for her final period math class to end. She chewed absentmindedly on her bottom lip in anticipation while tapping the eraser end of a pencil against her desk, eyeing the clock hanging above the classroom door with frequent glances. She wordlessly willed the arms to move faster when she was finally granted reprieve as the bell rang, indicating the end of the school day.

Alice swiftly gathered up her books, shoving them messily into her messenger bag before she fled from the classroom, making a break for her locker. Today wasn't just any Friday; it was October thirtieth. The day before her favorite holiday, Halloween. She'd felt a surge of energy from the excitement all day, causing her to be distracted and restless. All she wanted was to go home, put the finishing touches on her costume, and sit back for her yearly marathon of vintage monster movies after Cynthia went to bed.

She fumbled through her locker, taking little consideration into what items she placed into her backpack, totally enraptured within her own world. She was so preoccupied with her own excitement that she didn't notice when Jasper leaned against the locker next to her own.

"Hey, Alice." He greeted, causing her to jump in shock.

"Whitlock." She responded, hand over her heart as she steadied her breathing after the slight scare.

"You know... you sure scare easy."

"Don't sneak up on me, then jerk." Alice playfully shoved him in the chest with a giggle. "What's up anyway?"

"Perhaps I just wanted to talk to my favorite accomplice?"

She smiled slightly at the moniker, excited about the idea of pulling off an elaborate prank with Jasper and Emmett. "You've got a hells night prank planned then?"

"Maybe," He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Maybe I just wanted to hang out with you."

Alice was mildly disappointed by the revelation that there would be no pranking tonight as well as annoyed by the continuing game of flirting they played.

It had started out as a fun joke between the pair back in middle school, but Alice had begun to develop actual feelings for Jasper over time. The flirting, always just a game, never anything more, was starting to make her heart ache.

She slammed her locker shut in annoyance before leaning her head against the cool metal as she looked up at Jasper. "What do you actually want, Jazz."

Jasper looked away from her and took a deep breath before answering, "Are you going to Rosalie's party tomorrow night?" He seemed nervous, but Alice assumed it was her imagination. There was no reason for the popular Jasper Whitlock to be anxious about a party.

"Oh, I'm actually taking my little sister trick or treating tomorrow. We're going to watch some movies after; it should be a good time... Have fun, though; maybe I'll see you at the next one."

"But you love parties?"

"If I don't take Cynthia, no one else will."

"Oh..."

"It's okay," She cut him off. "I'll make the next party." With that, she walked away. Yes, she loved parties, but she loved her sister more. She wondered why Jasper was making a big deal out of the whole thing.

"Do you want a ride home?" Jasper asked, having followed her outside into the school parking lot.

"Isn't my place a bit out of the way?"

"Normally, yeah, but I need Emmett's help with something, and since your place is along the way." He gestured west in the general direction of both the Brandon and McCarty households as they approached the spot where he'd parked his truck. "It's not a big deal. Do you want the ride or not?"

Alice shrugged as she opened the vehicle's passenger's side door; she threw in her bag and attempted to climb in. After a few short seconds of struggling, Jasper came around, picked her up, helping her inside.

"You know, I could have done it myself." She glowered at him in a huff when he got in the car himself.

"Of course, but I don't have all night if I'm gonna make this work." His words were distant, as though he had something urgent he needed to get done.

"Make what work?"

"That my darling is proprietary information that cannot be released to the general public at this time." He flashed her that charming smile of his that made her melt.

"You can tell me I won't spill. Pinky promise."

"Nope, this one is between me and Emmett."

"Fine, I'll just ask him what trouble you're getting yourself into this time."

"Not a prank." He smirked in her direction with a side-eye.

"What could the two of you possibly be up to that doesn't involve chaos and ending up grounded for at least a week?"

"I can't tell you." He grinned at her as he pulled up in front of her house.

"I hate you."

"You know you love me."

Her heart skipped a beat at the comment as they locked eyes, the air feeling suddenly thick with tension. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. That is proprietary information." She finally joked with a mischievous smile as she threw his own words back at him before grabbing her bag and jumping out of the vehicle, gently closing the door behind her.

Jasper rolled down the passenger's side window shouting out in amusement. "That hurts, Brandon."

Alice rolled her eyes with a smile before blowing him a kiss as she ran inside.

"ALICE!" Cynthia shouted upon her entrance, tackling her in excitement.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Come, look what I made!" The ever excited eight-year-old tugged on her older sister's hands, pulling her over to the kitchen table where construction paper and crayons were strewn about the surface. "Esme helped me make a map of town so we can move faster and get ALL the candy."

"Yes, she did," The woman in question entered the dining room with a bowl of steaming macaroni and cheese. "But, it's time to put your art supplies away and eat your dinner."

"Hey, Esme." Alice greeted her sister's nanny as she helped Cynthia gather up her crayons. "Did mom get called into the hospital?"

The older woman nodded in affirmation as she gathered her belongings. "Yes, and don't you dare say you'd have come home sooner if you knew. Cynthia is your sister, not your daughter; I don't mind watching after her while you spend time with your friends."

"Thanks, Esme, tell Eddy I said hi, and I can't wait to see his Romeo costume in action."

"Of course, sweetie." Esme paused at the door. "Are you sure you don't want me to take Cynthia tomorrow so you can go to Rosalie's party?"

"Yeah, there's plenty of parties. Cynthia only gets so many Halloweens to trick or treat. We'll have fun."

"Okay, goodnight Alice. You've got my number if you change your mind." With that, Esme took her leave.

Alice remained in the hall momentarily to reflect on life; her parents had split up four years ago. While it had been the best thing for the family, Esme had a point. Alice stepped up immediately without being asked to help care for her sibling, with her mother spending much of her time at the hospital working as a nurse. She loved her sister more than anyone, but maybe she should put herself first more. Deciding those were thoughts for another time, Alice ventured back into the dining room, where Cynthia was finishing her dinner. After cleaning up, she helped the younger girl finish up her homework as she finalized the last details on their costumes.

Around nine, Alice noticed Cynthia, who had long since finished her word search on the solar system, was starting to drift off to 'The Wolf Man' DVD Alice had put on the TV. "I think it's time for bed, little miss."

"I'm not sleepy." Cynthia yawned.

"I beg to differ, come one." She scooped up the tired girl carrying her to her room and setting her on the bed.

"Are we gonna watch movies tomorrow?"

"Of course, silly." Alice reached out to ruffle the younger girls' hair. "It wouldn't be Halloween without 'The Great Pumpkin' now would it."

"And will you make those sugar cookies with the ghosts on them?"

"We're going to have cookies with ghosts and pumpkins. But," Alice reached over to switch off the lamp sitting on the table next to Cynthia's bed. "You have to go to sleep so it can be tomorrow." she grabbed her sister's favorite cat plush off the floor. Cynthia took the stuffed toy squeezing it tightly to her chest with a sleepy smile.

"Night Alice."

"Goodnight, little sister." Alice pecked the top of the girl's head before pulling the blankets over her sister.

Saturday, October thirty-first

"Alice, hurry up! We're going to miss all the candy if you keep taking forever!" Cynthia stood in the doorway of Alice's room, hands on her hips. She donned the Ariel costume she'd impatiently put on three hours ago to her sister's protest. Rather than purchasing off looking costumes from Target, Alice had opted to make both of their costumes herself that year and consequently was protective of her work.

"I'm finished, you hyper little mermaid," Alice responded, capping her lipstick and giving her hair one final check in the mirror; satisfied with her work, she donned the tiara, completing her look as Rapunzel at the end of Tangled.

"What do you think?" She asked, doing a little twirl for Cynthia.

"You look JUST like Rapunzel! Now let's GOOOOO."

"Okay, okay." Alice straightened out her sister's red wig that had been knocked off-kilter during a round of hide and seek with Bella, who'd been kind enough to look after the girl before heading to Rosalie's party while Alice got dressed.

"But first." She pulled out her phone from one of the hidden pockets she'd sewn into the skirt of her dress and crouched down to Cynthia's level. "Pictures for mom." They snapped a few poses before an impatient Cynthia had enough, grabbed her bag, then dragged her sister out the door.

They went to a few houses before ending up three doors down at The Cullen's, where Carlisle and Esme had a king-size Kit-Kat waiting for Cynthia, who took the candy excitedly; happy to pose for yet another photo in exchange. They made their goodbyes, making their way back to the streets.

The siblings had been out for an hour, hitting up every house with a light on collecting candy when they reached the impeccably decorated Hale residence. Alice beamed with pride, noting a few projects she'd worked on for Rosalie in art class as they made the trek up the path to the door.

Cynthia had hardly just rung the bell when the door opened to reveal Emmett dressed as Gomez Addams. "Alice! Cynthia! My favorite Disney princesses." He pulled a candy bowl from a table sitting by the door. "Rosalie said only two pieces, but I think you deserve a handful."

Cynthia excitedly reached out to grab as much candy as her small hand could hold but was shushed by Emmett. "No, not a Cynthia handful." He reached into the bowl filling up his own much larger hand to overflowing proportions, and dropped the exuberant amount of candy into her bag.

"Did I hear you say, Alice and Cynthia?" Rosalie exclaimed, appearing seemingly out of thin air beside Emmett. Alice had no idea how she'd done it but appreciated Rosalie's commitment to her part as Morticia. "You guys should come in for a second." Rosalie beckoned the pair inside by dramatically reaching out a hand palm up and curling her fingers inward.

"I don't know..." Alice looked down at her eight-year-old sibling. "Cynthia probably wants to hit up some more houses and increase her candy stash."

"Nope," Cynthia gaze up at her sister with a devilish grin. "I wanna go inside. Emmett will give me lots of candy. Please, Alice, let me show your friends my costume."

"Yeah, Alice, please?" Emmett chuckled as he leaned against the doorframe holding a full unopened bag of candy.

"Fine, but just for a second." She relented, pulling Cynthia behind her as she walked past Rosalie into the crowded entry hall as Emmett slipped the full bag of candy into Cynthia's bag.

Bella, now fully decked out in a Juliet costume, spotted the pair as they entered into the crowded home, immediately ending her conversation with Leah, who was dressed as Pikachu to come over and greet the pair. "Hey guys, you made it! Have you gotten lots of candy?"

"Emmett gave me a big bag of candy, and Esme gave me a whole entire big Kit-Kat bar."

"How nice of Emmett." Rosalie glared at her boyfriend, who wore a sheepish expression.

"Rosalie, mon amour. Please forgive me." He dramatically threw an arm over his eyes.

"I suppose I can let this one slide. For dear Cynthia's sake."

"Cara Mia!" Emmett exclaimed, grabbing Rosalie's arm pecking kisses from wrist to shoulder. Alice had to admit, The Addams Family costume idea suited the couple perfectly.

"Alice darling, you should go mingle while you can. Let me take care of our lovely little mermaid for a moment."

"You don't have to, Rose."

"I insist, my dear." She waved her hand dismissively in Alice's direction. "Now go."

Confident that her sister was safe being doted on by her friends, Alice relaxed, allowing herself to enjoy the party as much as possible in the short amount of time she would be there. She made her way through the large house. Stopping to chat occasionally with friends, receiving compliments on her outfit. She laughed at some dad jokes from a zombie Eric as witch Angela rolled her eyes from his side. Complimented Jake, who donned an extremely impressive hulk costume.

Eventually, she found herself at the back of the room where a snacks and drinks table was set up. Mike and Jessica, dressed as Woody and Bo-Peep respectively, stood talking to Jasper, who, to Alice's shock, was not dressed as a cowboy despite wearing the same costume every year since childhood. In fact, he seemed to be dressed as... Flynn Rider.

Unable to believe her eyes, she tapped him on the shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "No cowboy costume?"

Jasper stiffened at the comment, slowly turning around with blushing cheeks. "Yeah... I wanted to do something different this year."

"Okay, but Flynn Rider? You definitely fit the part, but I didn't take you as a Tangled fan."

"ohmygosh." Jessica piped in before Jasper could defend his costume choice. "Flynn and Rapunzel, you guys like... match. It's too cute."

"Isn't it crazy!" Jasper responded a bit too excitedly. "How Alice and I randomly got matching costumes. What a coincidence!"

"Yeah, definitely a coincidence." Alice crossed her arms. "What's going on here, Jasper?"

Unfortunately, once again, the pair were interrupted, this time by Bella and Cynthia. "I'm ready to leave, Alice." The youngest of the pair bounced up to her sister.

"Wait a second! Is Japer dressed like Flynn!" Cynthia's eyes widened in joy at the realization turning her attention to the tall man who appeared extremely uncomfortable with all the attention. "Jasper! You've gotta come trick or treating with me and Alice."

"I don't think Jasper wants to go trick or treating Cynthia." Bella giggled at the child's outburst.

"But he has too!" Cynthia crossed her arms and stamped a foot on the ground. "He matches Alice!"

"I'll go." The man in question cast a nervous side grin at the sisters. "Who am I to deny the request of princess Ariel. Besides, I haven't been trick or treating in years. It'll be fun."

"You really don't have to." Alice turned to look at him with apologetic eyes. "She'll get over it as seen as she gets more candy."

"Nope, I'm going. Come on, Alice."

The now trio made their goodbyes to the party guests and made their way back to the streets.

To his credit, Jasper did a great job keeping up with Cynthia's high energy as she dashed from house to house. Alice smiled happily, watching her crush happily interact with the most important person to her. The scene caused her heart to flutter as he fell for him just a bit more.

"So," She'd asked as Cynthia made her way through the first floor of an apartment complex. "Are you going to explain yourself?"

"Explain what?"

"Why you're dressed like Flynn Rider?"

"Do I have to?"

"I would like to know the answer, yeah."

"Okay, um." He abashedly placed a hand behind his head. "So, I know this is your favorite holiday and all. Because of the pranks and scares and wanted to..."

"Alice! Jasper! I got all the apartments we can go now!" Cynthia appeared, cutting him off. The small mermaid grabbed both of their hands and pulled them out the door back to the streets to continue the candy hunt.

Alice tried at every opening to find out what Jasper was going to say. Unfortunately, Cynthia cut the moment short every time. Turns out, it's tough to figure out why your best friend is acting weird when you're trick or treating with an eight-year-old.

After another two hours of candy collecting, they were nearing the end of their journey. They'd run out of houses, consequently resulting in Cynthia's excited energy wavering as they made the way back to the Brandon residence. When the group was a few blocks from their destination, the two teenagers noticed Cynthia started getting tired. Alice was getting ready to assure her they were almost home when Jasper surprised her by asking the younger girl if she wanted a piggyback ride. The smaller girl was elated by the idea and readily agreed.

The action made Alice happy; she loved that he was willing to be so kind and placate her little sister. He really was a great guy, even if he rarely let others see; she felt lucky to witness the sweet moment. After everything she'd witnessed that night, her heart fluttered at the idea that maybe... just maybe it was all for her.

Once they'd reached the girl's home, Jasper swung Cynthia off his back and set her back down gently. "That was fun!" She'd exclaimed.

"Okay, little one. Run along inside so I can talk to Jasper for a second." Alice nervously instructed her sibling.

"Alice and Jasper sitting in a tree." The girl had begun to sing the popular children's rhyme between giggles.

Alice swiftly but gently clapped a hand over Cynthia's mouth in a panic, finishing the classic rhyme with her own edit. "B E D T I M E." She chuckled awkwardly as she picked up her offended sibling. "I'll be right back, just gotta take Ariel inside."

"But The Great Pumpkin and cookies!" Cynthia protested as Alice sat her back down inside the house. "It can't be bedtime yet!"

"We'll do those things, Cynth, I promise. I've just gotta tell Jasper goodbye first. Go put on pajamas." Shooting her sister a warning look, she jogged back outside where Jasper was still waiting under the tree.

"Okay, Mr., there's no more little kid to interrupt you. Please tell me what this is all about." She crossed her arms over her chest, determined to get answers this time.

He took a deep breath and stared at his feet. "I was going to ask if you'd go with me to Rose's party... like as my date. But you had to take your sister trick or treating, and I know how important she is to you. So... god, I feel so stupid."

"So what, Jas?"

"Emmett said I should do a couples costume with you as a surprise and when you guys stopped by to trick or treat at Rosalie's comment on what a funny coincidence it was and leave with you. But then everyone was watching us, and I got nervous because I really like you. I know we play that stupid flirting game all the time but I kind of really want to go out with you..."

"Why didn't you just... ask if you could come with?"

"Emmett said I needed a big romantic gesture."

"Why would you listen to Emmett?"

"I'm an idiot?" She shot her an embarrassed smile.

"You're lucky; I like idiots."

"You do?" He looked hopeful.

"Yepp, at least I like the kind of idiot who does something as sweet as dressing up as a character from one of my favorite movies and goes trick or treating with my sister just because he wants to spend my favorite holiday with me." As ridiculous as his actions were, she really did find the gesture sweet.

"That's the kind of idiot I am!"

"So here's what you're going to do. You're going to call me tomorrow, and you're going to ask me if I want to go get a coffee with you. I'm going to say yes, and you're going to take me to that shop on main street that I like."

"Did you just plan a date I haven't asked you on yet? How do you know I'll even call you?" He was teasing her now.

Alice stood on her tippy toes to peck jasper on the cheek... or rather the lower jaw as even at the highest she could stretch, she still couldn't actually reach his cheek. "Goodnight, Jasper; I'll see you tomorrow." With that, she skipped back into the house.

#jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #Fluff #Twilight

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sparrowkingsley · 3 years

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I'm Not Okay

Laurel had been awake for hours. Her mind was on overload. Sleep eluded her as she glanced at her phone over and over checking the time. After three hours of restlessness she had gotten up. Her body exhausted but her mind forcing it to move.

She couldn't stop thinking about the conversation that her and her mom had. What did she want? What did she want to do?

As a kid her interests were many yet sometimes so fleeting. Although she was a master at martial arts she didn't want a career in that. Oplympic fame had seemed cool but ultimately unexciting to her heart's desire. As a kid she had wanted to be a pirate, not a career her parents would want her to pursue to say the least.

Treasure hunting. Time jumping. Exploration was what she really wanted. Hadn't she just wrecked her best chance at that though? Would she be able to finish the Legend Program now? Would she even get back her time license? Most importantly what would this mean for her time with Heywood?

Heywood. Another dilemma her mind was fixated on.

It's not like Laurel hadn't noticed. Sure a lot of times she missed social cues. Her mind usually pulled her away from the things right in front of her. Distracted or overwhelmed by her own mind she usually annoyed most people. But not Heywood. Heywood always put up with her.

The looks they shared had changed recently or rather maybe she had just began to notice. She remembered feeling this change before when she had started to date Josh freshman year. He and her had been close and their relationship had went from, "he is a really great guy to hang out with" to "I really want to kiss him".

Before him she never even really thought about wanting someone to kiss her. It was confusing that she didn't want what other high school classmates seemed to. Then things changed when she connected with Josh.

Two months later it was over. Logically Laurel knew it wasn't her fault. As they spent less and less time together, Josh focusing on track and her devoting so much energy on her time schemes, the feelings had just dwindled away.

She tried to figure it out. Hoped they could work it out. Except she couldn't. She couldn't change things back to how they were when they started. So she broke it off and she lost him. Lost their connection and then lost their friendship.

So now, with Heywood, her best friend, the person she trusted and cared about more than anyone else ... if she ruined things with her? She couldn't lose her. She just couldn't.

Steady vibrations of a familiar sound pulled her away from her worries.

"Hey Sprout, you hungry?."

Her bullfrog continued his bellows till she dumped a few crickets into his large tank. As he hopped out of the water to devour them Laurel began to feed her other pets as well. Grab more crickets for Luna, her leopard gecko and her chameleon Judo. Open up her mini fridge for her scorpion Calypso's meal worms and one large, thawed rat for Sunshine, her boa.

As she opened up Sunshine's enclosure the snake slunk her head out demanding Laurel's affection. Laurel let the snake climb up her arm, up to her shoulders, the snake's tongue flickering against her cheek as she began to sing 'You are my Sunshine' softly. Sunshine satisfied with the attention then willing slid back into her home to enjoy her meal.

Now what?

Laurel tried to distract herself from thoughts of her best friend. Push ups. Sit ups. Pull ups. A few rounds with her punching bag. Still her mind wandered to the same thoughts.

Punch. Those amber eyes that were warmer than sunshine. Punch. Her long, wavy locks of brown hair that she pulled into a ponytail whenever they sparred together. Punch. What about the fact Heywood had three inches on her. Punch. Their height difference was just infuriating and she never was gonna stop teasing her about it. Punch. The way she would switch from English to Korean and back again and not even realize how amazing that was. Punch! And her singing voice, her singing gave Laurel chills no matter what song it was. Punch, punch! Her laugh was just the same. No it was even better! Punch, punch! When Heywood laughed it gave her the best feeling in the world. Punch, Punch! It was the most beautiful sound in the universe. Nothing could ever replace it. Punch, punch!

And it was all- Punch! Punch, Punch! PUNCHPUNCHPUNCHPUNCHPUNCH!

It was all too much.

Just too much.

Think about something else. Anything else. Anything but her.

Laurel threw off her combat gloves, wiped off her sweat with a towel, then made her way downstairs. Maybe she could distract herself by eating something? She figured she could at least try at this point.

"Good morning, Laurel."

Laurel practically jumped out of her skin when she rounded the corner and saw that Ava was already in the kitchen.

"Oh fu- oh um hey mom. You're up early? What time is it? I mean it's Saturday and usually you and Momma sleep in on Saturday so, wait... it's Saturday right?"

"It is 6:32 am on Saturday, October 6th 204-!"

"Um okay mom, chill with the play by play of our current timezone okay. I get it. I'm grounded. Stuck in this time till my community service is over. Geezzz, you don't have to rub it in."

"Very well dear. Would you like to eat breakfast together? I am preparing something special for you."

"Um, sure? If you want."

Laurel was super puzzled by the way her mother was acting. She was super stiff this morning. Like she was on auto pilot. What was more odd was that she was dressed in her pantsuit. Which she rarely ever wore anymore except when meeting with the Time Tribunal or helping out on timeline case.

Laurel began to dig her way into the fridge, "Are you meeting some of your time cop buddies today or like are you and mom doing some nostalgic role-playing thing? Cause if so I don't actually want to know about it. But like if you are please make sure to play your annoying music super loud okay. I don't need to hear you getting sweet with each other like ever."

"Sara is at the dojo. She is with a client this morning."

Laurel froze. Did she just... did her mom just call her momma Sara? She slowly pulled a jar of peanut butter out the fridge and turned around to look at her.

"Um? Are you and mom fighting?"

Ava pulled a cooking sheet out of the oven, not even looking up at her, "Your mother and I are fine, honey. Why do you ask?"

"Cause you rarely call her by her first name. And yesterday you both seemed fine so like, did you get into an argument about my situation or something?"

"Of course not, sweetie."

Laurel opened up the silverware drawer and grabbed a spoon. Something was off. Laurel felt her gut twist into a knot of uneasiness. Then she saw what her mom was pulling out of the oven and the pit in her stomach only grew.

"If nothing is wrong why are you making snickerdoodles at 6:30 something in the morning? You only bake them this early when you are upset or your mind is on something. Mom, seriously what is going on?"

"Nothing is going on. I made them for you. They are your favorite after all. I thought you might enjoy them since you will be stuck at home for the time being."

Laurel opened the jar of peanut butter. She swirled the spoon around for a bit. Her foot tapped as she watched her mom set the cookies on the cooling rack and turn off the oven. She couldn't hold it in any longer. She really needed her mom.

"Mom, I was wondering if we could maybe talk? It's about, well it's about me and um Heywood. I know I said nothing was going on between us but I, I really need your advice."

"Of course, kiddo. Ask me anything you need to."

Her throat tightened. Her fingers clenched against the jar. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A chill ran down her spine. All because of one word her mom had just said. "Kiddo?"

"Yes. Kiddo. Do you no longer like to be called that term of endearment?"

Laurel blinked. Once. Twice. And for a few moments just started at Ava. Afraid to look away.

"Hey mom... can you look at me for a second?"

Ava looked up. Her eyes looking straight into Laurel's as she took a huge spoonful of peanut butter into her mouth and immediately put it back into the jar.

"Yes dear?"

Laurel took a few moments to swallow the peanut butter. Silence settling uneasy between them. Tension set into Laurel as she leaned against the countertop.

"You know, I've always been an obnoxiously clever kid. Over the years I have found a lot of ways to intentionally annoy my parents. Years of practice you see. So I'm going to break down a few things for you, okay? My mom, Ava, absolutely hates when I eat directly out of the jar of peanut butter. Seriously it is one of her greatest pet peeves. She likes to call me by a lot of embarrassingly cutesy nicknames. Things like sweetie, honey and her little beam of sunshine when she wants to really irk me. But fun fact only my Momma, Sara, calls me kiddo. Interesting, right? So I'm going to give you one chance. Just one to answer me before things get ugly. Where are my moms and who the fuck are you?"

Next thing Laurel knew the person who most certainly was not her mother was diving across the countertop. She immediately defended herself. Starting by using a jar of peanut butter followed by a right hook to her opponent's face. She was going to thank her mom later for insisting on buying the organic peanut butter in a glass jar.

The imposter had recovered quickly, grabbing a kitchen knife as they began to square off with each other. Laurel had scooped up the closest item near her. A rolling pin that had been knocked off the counter at the initial struggle. Not the ideal weapon. Laurel would make it work.

"It is a shame that you discovered the truth so quickly. This means I must aquire or terminate you at this time. Stand down or perish."

"Not gonna happen. I'm going to take you down. You will tell me where my parents are."

"An unacceptable outcome."

How many times had she sparred with her moms. Countless times. Sometimes for hours at a time. They had drilled into her ways to fight. They taught her how to defend, attack, to adapt to all the things she might have to face. Except what was right in front of her. Someone trying to kill her. Someone who was wearing her mother's face.

Sweat trickled down her neck as she bobbed and weaved waiting on a opening to strike. The blade thunked against the wood of the pin as she blocked strike after strike. The sound of it sending trembles down her whole body as she backed her way into the living room to gain more open space. Tight in the kitchen her movements had been constricted. Now she could move freely and she took the opportunity to switch to the offensive.

Everything was fast. Her body and mind in sync with the furious thumping of her heart. Adrenaline pushed her forward as the knife dug deep into the rolling pin. Then she pulled it back, ripping the knife out the hand of her enemy giving her the full opening she needed. One jab to the chest followed by a roundhouse kick right to the face. That is how she should have won.

Pinning her down Laurel had grabbed her by the collar. Her other fist was raised to strike again. She had been ready to demand where her family was. She had been willing to do whatever it would take. Till she saw the necklace. It was a result from her first heist. A jade frog she had spent actual time on to carve with the help of Axl for weeks. She had made three of them. One for herself, one for Sara and one for Ava. It wasn't supposed to be there. It shouldn't have been there. She had froze.

That's how she ended up on her back instead. Wheezing for breath as she looked into eyes that pretended to be ones she had known all her life. It didn't feel real yet it was happening. Her fingers grasping at hands closing around her throat. Her thrashing slowing down against her will. The darkness seeping into her vision. Laurel was going to die. Her time had run out.

#legends of tomorrow #new legends of tomorrow #avalance kid #laurel olivia lance #wip

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flirting-with-psychology · 3 years

Text

Has the person you like ever seen you in your pajamas? Yes

Did the last person you kissed celebrate your last birthday with you? He was celebrating thanksgiving with his parents during my birthday but he called me

What’s the first word of the last text message you received? I

Do you think you’ve changed at all over the past year? I’ve gotten more anxiety and gotten fatter

Is there a song that reminds you of your ex? Do you still listen to that song? I Almost Do, Red, and If This Was A Movie (all by taylor swift). Yes I still listen

Did you tag anyone in your last Facebook status? Not in the post I shared, but in my last original post I tagged my boyfriend

How do you behave when you’re drunk? Usually giggly and overexcited

What is your least favorite type of chocolate? White chocolate

When was the last time you felt disappointed? What was the reason? Disappointed that the gym won’t let me cancel over the phone and might still charge me for february

Is there someone that can make you smile, even when you feel like crying? Not always

Is there a certain person on your mind right now? Tell me about him/her. My boyfriend

You’re getting ready to go to bed, and the last person you kissed shows up, what do you do? Get into bed with him

What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? Being annoyed at my dad’s snoring through the walls

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Maybe

Are you okay right now? I haven’t been okay this whole year

What time did you get up today? Like 1:30

When was the last time you saw your mom? The other day

What is the last thing you drank today? Water

Do you dislike/hate anyone? Donald trump and Mitch McConnell

Where is your best friend right now? At home I assume

When will your next kiss be? As soon as we get negative test results

Will you be up before 7 am tomorrow? No

Does anyone completely understand you? No

Who was the last girl you hugged outside of family? I don’t remember, it’s been a long time

Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days? No

What will you be doing in 3 hours? Probably wasting time

How often do you straighten your hair? Never now, I used to when it was short

What are you currently looking forward to? The costume sale that hopefully I will be able to go to

Is tomorrow gonna be a good day? What are you going to do? Lol probably not

Who did you last hang out with? My dad

Did anyone see your last kiss? No

Could things possibly get any better? I fucking hope so

Do you know who you’ll even kiss next? I assume it will be my boyfriend

Do you ever sleep in jeans? No, that sounds really uncomfortable

Name something you dislike about the day you’re having? Stress

Did you get a full 8 hours of sleep last night? No

Are you in love lately? Not sure

How often do you see your ex? Rarely

Who was the last person to text you? My boyfriend

Did you like anyone last summer? Yes, my boyfriend

Do you replay things that have happened in your head? Yeah

Who was the last person you stayed up with till 2am? My boyfriend

Do you want a boyfriend or girlfriend? I enjoy having one

Are you currently in a relationship? Yes

Do you use a full length mirror daily? Most days

Would you be shocked if the person you have feelings for texted you? No

Is there anyone you wish you could fix things with? I would like to reconnect with my friend Shaina

What are you planning on doing after this? Idk

Is there a girl you would do anything for? No

Who IMed you on facebook last? My mom

How old are you? 26

Do you love dogs? Yes

Were you finished childhood and teens when Harry Potter movies came out? No, they started coming out when I was in elementary school

Did you keep all your VHS tapes? Probably

Do you think Jack Nicholson is a good actor? Yeah I think so

Have you ever watched an episode of “The Honeymooners”? No

Have you ever owned a pair of high-top Converse? No

Do you have rain boots with a cute pattern on them? I have cowboy rainboots

Would you rather eat an apple or an orange right now? Apple

Would you rather do a cartwheel on land or a backflip in water? If I could do either of them, a backflip in water would be cool

Have you ever performed on stage in front of people? Yes

Were you kinda scared of the goths in high school? Not scared, just didn’t have anything in common with them

What size is your mattress?(single,twin,double,queen,king) Full size

Do you eat foods from all 4 food groups everyday? Lol no

Do you sleep in PJs? Yes

Do you prefer watching TV or listening to music? Watching TV. Listening for music needs to be accompanied by another activity

Would you rather watch a movie in theatre or at home? Theater is fun, but right now at home

Do you prefer brown or white rice? White

Do you like spaghetti? I love spaghetti

What about lasagna? No, I don’t like red sauce

Do you celebrate Christmas? No

Is your Thanksgiving celebrated in October too? Who does that?

Do you like chocolate bars? Yes

what about ice cream? Mostly, although sometimes the plain flavors are boring

Have you ever been stung by anything? What was it? Wasps a few times

Do you get tired easily? Only in the morning

Or do you always have plenty of energy to spare? No

Have you ever done volunteer work? Where? I volunteered as a teaching assistant What about court-ordered community service? No

Have you ever worn contacts?(even just to try them out) I tried but it made my vision all swimmy

Would you wear contacts on a daily basis? Maybe if I got some that worked

Are your ears pierced? How many times? One on each ear

Do you have GOD-GIVEN(not dyed) natural brown hair too? I have natural brown hair but I don’t believe it’s god-given

Or were you born blonde? No

Have you found a gray hair on your head or body before? I don’t think so. Both of my parents kept their hair color for awhile so hopefully I got that gene

Have you ever had any suspicious moles removed? Yes, on my arm

Have you ever been screened for STDs? Yes

Are all your wisdom teeth pulled? Yes

Did you have your tonsils taken out? No

Did you have your appendix taken out? No

How many kidneys do you have?(have you donated one?) I have both of them

Would you(to save someone)?^^^ I'm not sure. If it was someone I loved and there wasn’t one already on hand, maybe

Have you ever found a bug or slug in your salad? ewww no

Do you like Harry Potter? Yes

What about Twilight? It was ok, I liked it at the time I read it How do you feel about Lord of the rings? I like the movies

Are you going to see ‘The Hobbit’ when it comes out? I did

Do you have a glass that says 'Molson Canadian’ on it? No

Do you have any collector’s glasses or cups or mugs? I have a bunch of shotglasses from places I visit

Would you rather have a white fridge or a black fridge or a stainless steel fridge? Stainless steel

What size shoe do you wear? 7.5-8 womens

Do you have a wide foot or a narrow foot or just average? Kind of dorito-shaped, so some shoe types just don’t fit

Do you bite your nails when you’re stressed? No

Do you have to take an allergy pill daily in order to live normally? No

Are you on the birth control pill? No

Or are you trying to get pregnant? I’m trying not to get pregnant, but I use condoms instead

You’d rather wear black sneakers or sneakers in a bright color or pattern? Probably bright color

Has anyone ever told you they were attracted to you? Yes

Can you swim well in water way above your head? Decently

Are you afraid of thunder & lightening? No

Have you ever experienced an earthquake? No

What about a tornado? No

Are you closer to your dad?(more so than your mom) I’m probably a little closer to my mom

Were you your parents’ first born? Yes

Do you have a child? Is the father still with you? No

Did you trade stickers at recess when you were a kid? No

How old were you when you had your first crush? Do you remember their name? I was like 5 the first time I put a word to it and his name was Aidan, but I probably had sort-of crushes even before that

Can you even remember what the hell they looked like? Blond, bowl-cut at the time. He actually grew up to be really hot so I guess I knew how to pick em

Have you ever operated any type of motorized vehicle before? A car

Are you going to drink alcohol tonight? Maybe

Have you ever heard of the Canadian kids show called “Mr. Dressup”? No

What about the kids show “Fred Penner’s Place”? No

Did you hate Sesame Street when you were little too? A little

Were you born perfectly healthy or with some(or a lot) of health issues? I might have had some minor things

Do you collect DVDs? Not as a collection, but I buy movies I like a lot

Do you download music? Yes

Or do you still go to stores and buy CDs? No, those are like twice as much

Did you skip(jumo-rope) a lot as a kid? No, I was bad at it

Did you ever catch any bugs or insects with your friends as a kid? Only roly polies

Didn’t you just LOVE art class in elementary school?! Yeah

Have you ever played dodgeball? Yes but not well

What about Red Rover? No

Have you ever played “What time is it mr. wolf?”? It sounds familiar but I don’t remember it

Do you hate your weight? Yes

Have you ever struggled with a mental illness? A little

Serious question, peanut butter or nutella? Peanut butter for a sandwich, nutella for eating straight out of the jar

Have you ever stepped on a snail? No

Do you prefer baked potatoes or mashed potatoes? Mashed

Do you prefer ankle socks over regular socks? Ankle socks

Last movie you’ve seen in theaters? I can’t remember

What is your oldest sibling’s middle name? I don’t have one

Have you ever been to Disneyland or Disney World? Both

Would you ever go backpacking across any country? Probably not

Would you prefer to travel around the world by yourself or with a friend? With a friend

Do you like breadsticks? Yes

Do you usually wear shorts around your house all year long? No, but I do wear short sleeves year round

What state were you born in? Colorado

Have you ever had a nose bleed? All the time

How far away do you live from your birthplace? Like 15 minutes

Do you have a weak stomach? No

Do you know anybody who has been diagnosed with cancer? Yes

Have you ever had to take care of an intoxicated person? Yes

Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer? Slightly but not really

Do you *really* like donuts? Yes

Do you think Disney World could ever get old? At some point

If you could, would you hookup with the last person you texted? Yes

What are your favorite things to spend money on? Jewelry and nerd stuff

Will you talk to the person you like on the phone tonight? I am talking to him right now

What do you usually order on a pizza? No sauce, cheese, garlic, pinapple Do you and your boyfriend/girlfriend fight a lot? Not really

Who’s the first person with the letter “m” in your contacts? Mac

Which would you rather have a new puppy or kitten? Kitten

How old will you be on your next birthday? 27 yikes

What color are your underwear? Turquoise

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? If it’s messy

#survey

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