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1kook · 3 years

Text

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting one

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: jk is a ditzy lil nerdy sweetheart, college crushes, social distancing -_-, use of the zoom app, 1kook Builds a Healthy Relationship (Version 2.0) ratings: M (18+) wc: 3.2k

notes: well. here we are. as always i have to thank common sense (coincidentally named rumu @kigurumu ) for reading this over and pointing out little details <3 after much deliberation, i have decided to post our beloved zoom jk (see origin story here) in the form of short ‘drabbles’ depicting diff zoom calls with this being The Beginning™️ so please... bare with me </3 ty to all the nice ppl who have been excited for this, luv u very much 🥺

There are times in human history where words captivate their audience; times when single words or phrases wrap around the listener, melt into their bones and radiate warmth from within. But rarely does one word manage such an impact, rarely is it as revered and as cherished as the word cancelled is to most college students.

Class is cancelled, group meetings are cancelled, the stupidly big semester final project was cancelled. You could cancel nearly anything, and in most cases, it would be beautiful. Cancelled meant more time to sleep in the morning, an afternoon free of pesky project partners, a pleasant reprieve from having to socialize with anyone. It was a glorious word with heavenly connotations that brought tears of joy to your eyes whenever you saw it appear in an email preview.

Except this one.

Spring Semester 2021: On-Campus Classes CANCELLED — Social Distance Measures as per State Regula…

Your last semester as a student in university… online? You couldn’t believe it. All these years of studying rigorously, cramming for exams, attaining a near perfect GPA— just to sit in your bedroom and stare at your computer screen for the last 15 weeks of classes? Had your friends not been there to mope with you, you’re certain a part of you would have gone on a rampage and cursed every bacteria known to mankind for doing this to you.

It was your last year, you whined in private (never in public; your friends had always considered you the mature one, the studious friend who kept everyone in order), yet here you were, setting up your desk for your last ever first day of classes with quite possibly the biggest pout on your face.

Zoom, your school had raved in an email a few weeks into the break, the desktop application that will keep us united in these trying times! As if, you huffed, giving the stupid application permission to connect to your computer’s camera and audio systems. What even was proper Zoom etiquette? Did you have to enter the meeting and greet every student cheerfully? You had always said hi to your classmates before, but something about saying it over a computer mic felt awkward.

The feeling doubled when you finally entered the meeting, only to be met with a sea of black screens save for your professor, who seemed to be clicking around his computer in a rather confused fashion. This was going to suck, you thought bitterly.

You had entered the room ten minutes earlier because, well, you always showed up to class a few minutes earlier than the scheduled meeting time. But was there any point to doing that here? Usually, the time before class was spent making small talk with said classmates, discussing the readings or the assignments, talking mindlessly about whatever came to mind. But something in your gut said it would be weird to do that now.

So you sit in silence for the next ten minutes, nervously tapping your pen against your desk as you wait for the professor to launch into whatever introductory monologue he had planned. You toy with your phone, scrolling through your twitter feed only to see a brigade of tweets from students all over the nation suffering the same fate as you. It was a trending topic.

Two minutes before the class starts, you hear the tell-tale ping of someone entering the meeting. You wave it off just like you have your other 41 classmates thus far, but then there’s the clearing of a throat, and a sweet, “good morning” filtering through your speakers. Lifting your head from the hunched over position you had assumed while glancing at your phone, you’re startled by the sudden handsome face that appears before you.

In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window.

He’s nothing short of a dreamboat, soft and doughy cheeks that catch the hue of the screen light, highlighting his cheekbones in a faint blue color. Imploring doe eyes blinking widely at the screen as he clicks around, narrating his confusion in a low mumble (mic still on, how cute). Dark hair— was it brown? black? the pixelated screen made it hard to tell —messily pushed away from his face.

And his voice, oh his voice. It matches his gentle appearance perfectly. A soft snort. “Am I the only one here?” he says, thin lips pulled to the side in a bashful grin.

The professor laughs with him. “No, but you are the only one with your camera on,” he responds.

You’re not sure if it’s the professor’s teasing jab at literally everyone else or the need to support the cutie who smiles softly at screen, but suddenly, a handful of windows come to life. Your classmates fill up the screen, dressed in an array of styles with bedrooms (and, on the rare occasion, dorm rooms) to match. You nibble at your bottom lip, finger hovering over the button that will expose your appearance to the rest of your classmates

Eventually, the wordless peer pressure, the need to be a good student, and the supportive face of Jeon Jungkook (he/him) have you inhaling sharply before dutifully clicking the camera on. Your face appears on screen, nearly lost in the now overwhelming sea of faces. You’re one of the last ones to turn your camera on, both pages of your zoom meeting participant windows filled with the contrasting images of your classmates joining from their bedrooms. The professor claps in delight, and finally dives into the mandatory first day of classes spiel.

Syllabuses, group work, asynchronous lectures. You’ve heard these words all before, have practically memorized this class’s syllabus like the back of your hand. The pros of being an overachiever. The cons are, however, that you think every question your classmates ask is stupid. Read the syllabus, you want to scream. But it’s the first day of class. You don’t even know who your assigned study group partners (as mentioned in the syllabus) are and you certainly don’t want them to dislike you so soon. They can do that after the third meeting, but not today.

You’re not entirely surprised when your attention drifts away from the professor and the endless sea of stupid questions he’s left to answer. Even when you realize you’ve stopped paying attention, you don’t bother forcing yourself to tune back in. No, instead your focus drifts across the windows of faces.

Some of your classmates are as bored as you, glaring at the screen with disinterest, or glancing off to the side probably at their phones. So you start looking at their rooms, analyzing their decorations and posters as if you’re a professional critic on some house design show.

Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in a rather plain dorm room. Plain light gray walls— or maybe it’s white —free of decoration. He’s sitting at the provided desk, just like you. The only reason you focus on that is because there’s a multitude of your classmates lazily sprawled across their beds, slumped over a couch. Hardly anyone is sitting at attention like you. Well, except for Jeon Jungkook (he/him). He’s practically exposing the entirety of his living accommodation with the way his camera is set up.

Above eye level, reaching just below his chest, with the room all laid out before you. A neat twin bed, sheets meticulously made. It almost looks like the decorative set at a furniture store with the way the comforter and variety of pillows are placed. He doesn’t seem to be in the crappy dorms you remember, which leaves you wondering where exactly he’s been assigned. You know certain sports clubs get fancier dormitories. Anyway, there’s a door off the side of the bed, a black guitar standing in the corner just behind it. You wonder what’s behind the camera, if maybe his desk is as organized as the rest of his room. Maybe his closet is his weakness, you muse, imagining poor Jeon Jungkook (he/him) with a tornado of a closet. But the thought doesn’t make that much sense, so you discard it quickly.

Anyway, his dorm room. It’s neat and orderly, makes you tilt your head curiously as he swivels from side to side before you. As for himself, he’s dressed in a plain white sweater, hoodie strings perfectly even. His hair has long since fallen over his forehead, but he’s pushed it over this time in a fluffy side part. He was adorably soft.

He’s paying attention to the professor like he genuinely treasures every word that comes off his tongue, nodding along understandingly. He’s even got a pencil in hand, leaning forward every few seconds to scribble something down hurriedly. Not like this is all on the syllabus or anything, you think.

But as soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s dispelled just as fast. He’s only trying to be a good student, you scold yourself, feeling oddly mean for wanting to make fun of this sweet boy. Especially when he raises his hand a second later and asks the first good question of the day. Something about the grading scale for group projects and how much is determined by the group members themselves. You’re not too sure, the words get a little fuzzy when he starts speaking and his pink lips pull down into an endearing pout.

A couple minutes later and your professor finally wraps up the questions, telling everyone to email him if any other questions arise throughout the semester. Just as you’re sighing in relief, he utters those dreaded words: “Ice-breakers!” he exclaims, and the whole class grimaces, much to his amusement. He says something about feeling the excitement through the screen, but then changes gears. “Since it’s a little hard to talk to your neighbor, I’m going to test out the Breakout Rooms and see how that works, okay guys?”

You frown. Breakout Rooms? What on earth was that? Like most of your classmates, this is pretty much your first rodeo with the Zoom application. He was sending you all into small groups, where? The answer presents itself a few seconds later, a message box appearing on your screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 4

Your professor is still chattering in the background when you nervously accept the invitation, his voice suddenly cut off as your computer jumps to a new loading screen. It takes a while before you’re suddenly dumped into a new room. And then you’re staring at your own face, blown up on your own screen in a rather uncomfortable way. Jeez, did you really look like this?

As soon as you get to picking at your appearance, your mirrored reflection jumps to the side, once, then twice more to fit the three new guests in your room. Silence fills your bedroom as you and your classmates all stare at each other nervously for a couple seconds, unsure of what to say. This was, after all, your first meeting.

Just as you’ve gathered all your courage to click your microphone on, the screen jumps around once more and suddenly Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in your Breakout Room. Immediately, his surprised face melts into the most reassuring grin you’ve ever seen, and he’s practically jumping forward to turn his mic on.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says, smooth and low. It’s like the awkward tension melts away under the pressure of his pretty smile, your classmates responding back with polite hellos and good mornings to him. You barely get yours in before Jeon Jungkook (he/him) starts talking again. “So… how are you guys?”

His words, sweet and caring as they are, send the five of you into a rather mindless conversation. Talking about nothing really, just whatever comes to mind about the class, about the semester, about the remote learning. Then Jungkook— “just Jungkook is fine!” he tells the other four of you with that same too pure look on his face after someone refers to him by his whole name —starts talking about some movie he had seen on Netflix the other day, something his friend recommended to him. Truthfully, you have zero interest in the type of plot he is describing, and you can tell some of the other people in your group don’t either. But he’s absorbed in his storytelling, features lit up as he details every last plot point of the film like his life depends on it. There’s a wordless agreement to let him ramble on.

By the time Jungkook has finished his novella recapture of whatever movie he was talking about, a green message bubble appears at the top of your screen. It’s a message from your professor, who is telling you the small group meeting will end in a few more minutes.

“Aw, that sucks,” Jungkook laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. And then, “oh! We haven’t answered our icebreaker question yet!”

Ah, yes. The reason for this small group was to get to know each other, not for Jungkook to recount an entire two hour movie for you all. “Oh, right,” you agree, probably the first words you’ve said in the past five minutes. You navigate to the chat box, where your professor had hastily dumped the question before sending you all off. “What’s one thing you miss most about being on campus?” you read aloud, glancing back at the screen.

Your group mates are all in various states of blissful comfort, the gaps of their nervousness smoothed over by Jungkook’s bubbly personality, and the hesitation they’d shown at the beginning is practically gone. Someone steps forward and says something about the campus dining hall. Jungkook laughs, loud and airy, claps his hands all cute too. Someone else says the library because it was a good place to study. There’s a lull and you jump in quickly. “I think I’ll miss the couches by the gym in the student center the most,” you confess, though you doubt anyone knows which ones you mean. They were a set of brightly colored couches tucked into a cranny behind the Starbucks just outside the campus gym, avidly avoided by the gym rats who were determined to ignore the sugary drinks and snacks.

Apparently, the hiding spot isn’t as secretive as you thought. “Oh, the ones by the Starbucks?” Jungkook exclaims, excitedly looking at his screen. You have this fluttery feeling that he’s looking at you for the first time. You nod, and he quite positively beams. “I love those!”

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time there,” you say, though it’s a little stilted because you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to react to Jungkook’s enthusiasm. Though his outgoing personality cloaks you in comfort, his pretty smile has your heartbeat acting a little funny.

Jungkook’s got these huge eyes, blinking owlishly at you. “Really? So do I!” And then you both seem to have the same realization. His head tilts to the side cutely, an amused smile on his face, “I’ve never seen you there.”

“I’ve never seen you there,” you shoot back, a little snarkier than necessary, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. His smile turns goofy.

“Woah,” he says in a rather dreamy tone, “isn’t that so cool? We spent so much time in the same place, but never crossed paths before,” he babbles. He’s stopped looking at his computer, leaning back in a sort of dazed manner with this sparkly look to his eyes, much to everyone’s amusement. Except yours, because frankly, it sounds a little bit like he’s describing— “fate!” he says suddenly, like it’s truly an aha! moment. He pauses, taps his finger against his chin. “Or anti-fate? I’m not sure. But it’s like— we could’ve met so many times before and we didn’t.” Doe eyes return to the screen, flickering around until they presumably land on you again. “What do you think, __?”

And he’s just so cute, makes the rigid shield around your chest soften for the slightest moment as you nod meekly. “Uhh, yeah. Fate,” you agree, and then get to hear him laugh and giggle for about three seconds before you’re suddenly thrown back into the larger Zoom meeting.

Weirdly flustered, you hurriedly click your microphone back off, and nearly contemplate the camera too. But then the professor is asking you all to share what you talked about and you’re resigning yourself to a few more minutes of screen time while the class wraps up. By the looks of it, not everyone had as an enjoyable time as you did. Part of you is thankful you didn’t get stuck in an awkward small group. The other part recognizes wholeheartedly that it’s all thanks to one smiley boy at the bottom of your screen.

“And group 4?” the professor asks, and you blink yourself back into attention. Before you can unmute yourself and answer for your group, Jungkook is beating you to it.

“We talked about a lot of things,” Jungkook answers cheerfully. From your view, you get a front row seat to the sheer power of Jungkook’s magnetic personality, watching as all your listless classmates suddenly snap back from their daydreams to zero in on whatever Jungkook is saying. He fills in the professor about what you talked about, from the movies to the couches, and you feel weirdly mushy when his eyes flicker across the screen before settling with a soft smile.

He can’t possibly be looking at me, you tell yourself. Your hand jerks forward to turn the camera off, but in your haste, end up knocking down the water bottle on your desk. You scramble to straighten it, thanking the universe for the fact you actually remembered to screw on the cap. You glance back at the screen, and nearly die when you catch sight of a giggly Jungkook, smile hidden behind an adorable sweater paw as he laughs at something on screen. Oh no, was he looking at me? you panic.

“Alright, everyone,” your professor says in that “I’m about to wrap this class up” voice. Too close to the screen, voice a little too loud. “Good meeting today, I’ll see you all again on Wednesday. Stay safe.”

“Bye!” Jungkook sings sweetly, and everyone else follows as they all bid adieu to the professor. Still a little frazzled from the possibility that Jungkook may have watched you flail around like a total loser, you take a second longer to turn your mic on. Your classmates quickly leave the meeting, leaving only a few stragglers until the very end.

Surprisingly, Jungkook is here too, brown eyes focused on the screen. You unmute yourself. “Um,” you stammer, eyes unwillingly flickering over to Jungkook who smiles at the sound of your voice. “Goodbye. Thank you,” you rush out, and then quickly leave the meeting as well.

With the meeting over, you’re left staring at the home page of the Zoom app, heart beating a little too fast to be normal. Your face feels warm, and your fingers tremble from some unfamiliar, giddy feeling in your chest. You exhale slowly, hand coming up to rub at your chin as if that will somehow explain the weird excitement from your Zoom meeting. Maybe it was just adrenaline, or nervousness, you try to convince yourself. After all, the first day of classes is always nerve-wracking.

Except when you navigate to your class page and begin to mindlessly scroll through the class roster, there’s a weird stutter to your heartbeat when you catch sight of that Jeon Jungkook (he/him) that appears halfway down the list.

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chrisbangs · 3 years

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Hi everyone! Here I am (late as always) but just in time to shower you all with a lil appreciation and love, because after this year, I think we all need it! (Apologies in advance for all the typos I will be making- no I will not proof read this <3)

I just wanted to start off by saying: thank you so much to everyone who has talked to me, become my friend, been kind to me, followed me, supported my content, throughout this year. To anyone who’s ever interacted / complimented / rb’d / liked my gifs and my gfxs, it means the world and I am so grateful and thankful to you. I honestly hit several milestones throughout this year and I just feel so in awe of how many people have supported me. I know 2020 wasn’t kind to many people, but I really did suffer a lot this year, and having people by my side who made me laugh and smile and feel special, made all the difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything.

Happy New Year to all my mutuals, followers, and people I follow! Thank you for making this terrible year, not so terrible.

With all my love, Li / Moon! 🖤🌙🐺

@00hj 🌙 // @2miin // @3noracha 🌙 // @914m // @agibbng // @avocadomin // @bangchans // @banghans 🌙 // @bestiez 🌙 // @binnies 🌙 // @blueprintskz // @binminseok // @changbeanie // @felixies 🌙 // @go-saeng // @hanjin // @huiracha 🌙 // @hwjins // @hyunjins 🌙 // @hyunjinz // @hyunknow // @hyunnie 🌙 // @innielove // @inracha // @jeonginx // @ji-sungs // @jinlix // @jisquish 🌙 // @jypestraykids // @leeknown // @leeminho-s // @leemvnho // @luvknow // @minhos 🌙 // @mydays 🌙 // @ontracc 🌙 // @realstraykids 🌙 // @saintmilky 🌙 // @seoschangbin // @seungminhos 🌙 // @seungminsmile // @strayhags // @straylov 🌙 // @sunnykids // @tightenmydoubleknot // @tuanzie 🌙 // @uayv 🌙 // @wonstal // @yangjeongin // @yangjeonginz 🌙 // @youngke

(If there’s a lil 🌙 by your name, I left a little extra message for you under the cut! Sorry I couldn’t do this for everyone, but please know I love all of you so much and am grateful for the things you bring to my dash!)

@00hj: Karen! Hi angel!!! You’re probably one of my first stay friends which is crazy to me ; __ ; like I really can’t believe it’s already been so long that we’ve known each other... I really just wanted to say that I hope the coming year is warm and kind and good to you because you really deserve it. Thank you for working so hard on straykidsupdate... And you post the loveliest gifs and gfx and are just such a kind soul... You’re such a pillar in this community and I’m so lucky to know and be your friend. Let’s go get some pie some day soon okay?

@3noracha: Falak! I know I suck at messaging and I’m so sorry for this. I missed your presence on here a lot and I miss all your amazing creations... Just today I saw some of your gfx in my gfx inspo tag and I was just amazed all over again. You’ve always been so kind to me and caring and just such a wonderful friend and I’m beyond grateful to you. I know you’re not as active these days but when you do post stuff it makes me so !!! Like I’m just so grateful to know you!! I hope the coming year will be kind to you!

@banghans: Ollieeeee!!! Hi sweetheart! I know we really only got to know each other this year through the createskz gc, but !! talking to you is so easy and comfortable, and you make me laugh so much. Thank you for always being such a warm person to be around. Everything you make is so lovely please don’t doubt that!! I hope that the coming year we get to talk more and that it treats you well angel!

@bestiez: Nita ; __ ; Although we’re not really in the same fandoms anymore, you’re still my OG johfam partner in crime. I’m so grateful to have known you as long as I have. You are just one of the kindest, funniest, warmest people I know. Thank you for always coming by and messaging me time to time and making me feel so warm and happy. You’re just a bright ray of sunshine who’s been there for me since so long and I can’t begin to thank you. I hope the new year brings you nothing but happiness and health and good things.

@binnies: Jem, where do I even begin? I refuse to make this too long or embarrassingly cheesy, because I already do that to you literally every day... But, I’m so so so grateful that we became friends. You made my 2020 so different from how it started. I feel so so so loved because of you. You offer nothing but the kindest of words (except when we’re sleep deprived because then you’re just The Funniest) and I am just so grateful to you. My Twin, My Bangerz Bro (help), My HoneyJem... How lucky I am to have you in my life... You truly helped me get to the other side of 2020 without a doubt in my mind... I feel so lucky that you were there with me... Thank you for everything. I hope the new year is full of love, happiness, and everything you so utterly deserve my babie!

@felixies: Luna! Hi sweet angel! We’ve known each other a while now huh ; __ ; It feels like it’s already been so long since we became pals, and I just feel so lucky to know you. I know we’ve both been through hell because of stay tumblr (and just in general) but you’re genuinely one of the strongest people I know... You’re so kind and funny and warm and smart and I just feel so lucky to have you in my life as a friend. Thank you for always cheering me on and being so sweet to me. I hope you know how much I love you! I hope you have a wonderful new year angel... You only deserve the best!

@huiracha: Marie! Hi my sweet angel!!! I know I’ve said it before but, thank you for being such an easy person to talk to and be around. You’re such a comfortable presence who makes me feel safe and comfy to talk to... I think you’re genuinely one of the most talented CCs on here and I’m so lucky to see your gifs and see your work. You’re just so amazing and leave me in awe ; ___ ; Thank you for being so kind to me and always talking with me about SKZ or PTG or Channie... I’m really so lucky to know you and love you! I hope you have a wonderful new year my angel!

@hyunjins: Hales... The way I don’t even know what to say here except: I love you. I’m so lucky to have you as a friend... You’re truly one of the funniest, best people I’ve come to know in my life. I cannot even begin to explain how much you’ve inspired me and made me feel happy. You’re just such a wonderful person and I am beyond glad we’re pals. Even if our friendship started out as you calling me a furry -___- I wouldn’t have it any other way ; __ ; I am so grateful to you and thankful to you. I love you and hope you have a wonderful new year! I love you!!!

@hyunnie: Kat! My girl! My Dude! One of the most talented stays on this site for real... Everything you make is just loaded with creativity and uniqueness and brilliance- just like you. I can’t tell you how happy I am we became closer this year... Like I feel so happy and lucky to know you and be your friend. You’ve inspired me in so many ways and everything you make is insanely cool. I love you so much Kat!!! I hope you have a wonderful new year and I can’t wait to see what you make next!

@jisquish: Dia my sweet angel... Happy new year! I hope you know that even if you’re not on much anymore, everytime I see you on my dash my heart lights up a little. I am so glad you were one of my first friends here- even if I didn’t know it at the time. I feel so, so lucky that we’ve stayed friends and that I can talk to you comfortably and easily. You’ve been such a wonderful part of my stayblr experience and I feel like you brighten my life up so much. Thank you so much!! I love you so much!! I hope the coming year is filled with only happiness and good things for you!

@minhos: Haru!!! Thank you for working so hard for this community. I am so lucky to know you and be your friend, seriously. You’ve made me smile and laugh countless times. Thank you for always just dropping in and checking on me... It truly means a lot to me and makes me feel important and cared for. I love you so much pal! I hope the new year brings you nothing but happiness and love and good things angel.

@mydays: Moon! Hi sweetheart! I just wanted to say a quick thank you for always being around to talk about Day6 with me and for making me laugh and smile and just for bringing warmth and good things to my dash. Everytime we talk I feel so comfy and happy and lucky to know you. I hope you have a wonderful new year filled with all the good things the universe could bring. Hehe, thank you for always posting moon related content!!!

@ontracc: Autumn!!! I hope you know how much I appreciate all the lil messages you send me every now and then, just to ask me how I’m doing. It means a lot and I hope you know, I’m grateful! I really hope you know how much I appreciate you and your content and just general presence on the dash and in the dms and in the gc! I’m so lucky to be your pal and I hope the new year brings you happiness and love and all the good things you deserve!

@realstraykids: Em! ; __ ; First of all, thank you so much for running foryjn with me... I know I have been kinda -___- with updating lately but I’ll be better about it fajiwoefowan... Anyway, you know how much I adore everything you make and I hope you know how much of a giant inspiration you are to me. You’re so creative and talented and friendly and bright and you are just one of the best people I’ve met on here. I just feel so lucky to be your friend and know you and just !!! chat with you! Everytime we talk I’m smiling and feeling happy... I’m so happy we bonded over loving Jeongin... Fr like... Best times!!! Anyway, I hope you know how much I love and appreciate you! Happy new year babie! Thank you for everything you do for stayblr and for me! I love you!!!

@saintmilky: Paige ; __ ; my angel... Thank you for being so sweet to me always. You are just one of those people who makes me smile and laugh so easily... You love frogs and bears and spn and I just feel all these things so deeply in my soul. I keep wanting to message you about SPN and stuff but I get so embarrassed and shy faoweifno... Anyway, I hope you have a wonderful new year and that all the things you deserve come your way!!! Love you my pal!!!

@seungminhos: Bia... My babie... My baba... My soulmate... Where do I even begin... Another year has passed by and so much has happened, and I just don’t know where I’d be without you... There is no doubt in my mind that I am the luckiest person on this earth because I found you and got to be your friend. You’ve made my life a beautiful, bright, fun, endearing place, all through your kindness and love and support. I am so lucky to be your friend and to be able to love you and just to know you... Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me and been with me for, through this year, through every year. Truly, I don’t think I would’ve made it out of 2020 without you running by my side. I don’t know where I’d be without you, but I’m just so glad that you’re here with me now. That you’ve made my life a very, very special place. Happy new year my sweet angel girl. I wish you nothing but the best, and that everything you’re wishing for comes true my love. Let’s keep on going together in 2021, okay? I love you!

@straylov: Nina! Thank you for being such a positive, warm angel. You bring so much happiness and brightness to stayblr, you’re truly irreplaceable. Your talent for gfx and gifs is just crazy. Everything you make is so beautiful and creative and so amazing; I’m just always in awe of everything you do. I hope you have a wonderful new year full of good things and good people!

@tuanzie: Jo! Although we haven’t talked that often, I just wanted to say thank you for always being so kind to me and supporting the things I make. Not only that but, you make some of the most beautiful and creative things I’ve seen and I’m always excited to see what you make next! I hope you get to achieve all the things you want in the new year and that only good things come your way. You truly deserve the best angel! Happy new year!

@uayv: Joyce! I miss you and your beautiful work so much. You truly are one of my biggest inspirations as a gfx maker. Everything you make is beautiful, thoughtful, creative, and just amazing. I feel so lucky to be able to see your work as well as be your friend. You’ll be the bread to my soup always ma’am! I love you so much and hope you know! Thank you for being my pal! Happy new year angel!

@yangjeonginz: June! Bug Boy!!! My sweet lil angel! Happy new year! I know I already told you last night, but thank you for being by my side during this year. I’m so happy we got around to talking more and became so close! You are just such a bright light in my life and I am so lucky to know you and love you! Thank you for always, always, always making me laugh and for listening to me rant about random stuff... I feel so safe and comfortable because of you. You really were a big reason that I survived 2020 and made it to the other side. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be... Thank you so much angel... I hope you have a wonderful new year filled with love and good memories and everything you deserve.

#li.ff #li.txt #long post #; ___ ;#this took For Ever...#banner is kinda lame but idc <3 hehfhwioaoieowe :(#i love u all #thank u so much for making this year not so ugly..#mwah...#hope this tags everyone properly -__-

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harry-hollands · 4 years

Text

selcouth // harry holland // 1

chapter 1: sunshine after the storm

story summary: Harry was used to living in his brothers’ shadows. Tom was the actor and Sam was the cook and musician. He was used to being second best and genuinely gave up on finding someone who could love him for him. Someone who could believe that Harry wasn’t second best. His mindset changes however, when he meets you. The sunshine to cast away all of the shadows.

chapter summary: harry finds his life a whole light brighter

pairing: harry holland x reader

warnings: none? maybe a few swears, slightly fluffy, moody harry,

word count: 1.6k

It was a bitter winter day, the brooding clouds seemed to match Harry’s mood. Ready to explode at any given moment in time. Why was Harry annoyed might you ask? Maybe because there was a nauseating reminder in front of him about how painfully single he was.

The heat was on full blast at the Holland-Osterfield-Barret residence, and a fire was blazing in the fireplace, but it wasn’t quite enough to fight off the bitter chills. Almost everyone was coupled up. Even Harrison, Harry’s go-to when he got sick of third-wheeling the long-term couples had someone to hold.

“Harry? You alright there mate?” Came the concerned voice of Tom, who unknowingly, and unintentionally, made the twenty-three-year-old more agitated than he already was.

Harry scoffed but nodded. “M’fine. I just don’t need to be reminded of how tragically single I am while you all are cuddled up.” The boy reminded sharply, slightly glaring at the pathetic looks Nadia and Elysia held upon their faces, something Harry instantly regretted when he noticed both of his brother’s shared a threatening scowl at him, a silent appeal to conclude his nasty behavior.

Sora Tanaka, Haz’s girlfriend of eight months, and the only one brave enough to test the waters of Harry’s testiness, gave a genuine smile to the aspiring photographer. “Harry, maybe I could introduce you to one of my best friends. She’s probably one of the most genuine people I know, and I truly do think this could be what you might need right now.”

Harry gently considered Sora’s words. Out of all of his friend’s significant others, Sora was probably his favorite. Maybe it was because she grew up in Hawaii, where everyone was laid back, maybe it was because Sora didn’t give a rat’s ass about what people thought of her, or maybe because she was the youngest in the group besides Paddy. Either way, Sora’s offer was one that caught the boys’ attention.

“Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You want to introduce Harry to one of your mates? Willingly?” Harrison stated astonished, knowing exactly how protective his girlfriend got when it came to any of her close friends and family.

“Is it honestly that surprising? Your best friend needs change in his life, and all of you aren’t exactly helping with what he needs.”

“And how do you know what he needs? Are you Harry?” Tom piped up, eyebrows raised at Sora’s subtle accusation.

“I don’t know what he needs, but I sure as hell know that you shouldn’t bring someone so painfully single on a double date!” Sora retaliated, her tone becoming sharper and more defensive.

As hilarious as the whole encounter was, watching Sora give Harry’s older brother a verbal beatdown, he knew that he should probably put an end to it before anything could escalate. It seemed Harrison and Nadia shared the same idea, as they all exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement that they had let Tom and Sora go at it for way too long.

The sound of feet pattering down the stairs was heard, and along with it an alluring melody. Sora sharply cut off the argument she was dominating Tom at, as she keened her senses to the voice coming from Paddy’s phone.

“Who are you talking to mate?” Sam questioned curiously, as faint hints of the song were heard through the now awkward silence.

Paddy had been upstairs talking to Y/N, an American exchange student he had met while exploring LAMDA. Paddy had decided he wanted to follow in Tom and Harrison in the acting department, and after he had graduated from the BRIT School, he immediately applied to Haz’s alma mater. (Harrison still had to thank Paddy for introducing him to Sora at a function that Tom had been unable to attend.)

“Oh...uh...Hamilton’s Instagram page is live right now. I was talking to my friend, but she had to go due to Hamilton rehearsals, so now I’m just watching them. This whole week is ensemble training. The current cast members are going to step down soon so they have to make sure the ensemble is ready to take over.” Paddy explained before exiting the stream and looking over at Sora.

“Oh Y/N says hi, and that you don’t have to pick her up. Aiyana is more than willing to.” Paddy relayed, but immediately narrowed his eyes at Sora’s mischievous smirk on her face. The younger boy sighed exasperatedly before asking the question he didn’t want the answer to.

“What are you planning?”

“It’s nothing! I’m just thinking that Harry should accompany me! Besides, I should introduce you to Y/N! She’s so fucking talented, that I’m still in shock that she hasn’t been discovered yet!” Sora exclaimed, shooting Harry a suggestive smirk.

At the immediate mention of Y/N, Elysia shot up from her position on Sam’s lap, which in turn, startled the man, and an immediate slur of sorry’s were exchanged. “Wait. Wait. Wait. Are we talking about the same Y/N? Y/N L/N right?”

Sora turned to Elysia and nodded enthusiastically. “The very one!” The American exclaimed before a look of confusion crossed her features. “Wait, how do you know Y/N?”

Elysia shyly giggled before recalling her first encounter with the unreserved female. “I believe it was Y/N’s first week in London and I met her at a theatre cast party. One of my cousins attends LAMDA, and is friends with her. Anyway, she invited me to the party, and it was so chaotic! I loved it. Y/N was teaching us some American party games, and then we started doing improv. Let me tell you, that girl is hilarious and I love her, and her energy.”

Harry cleared his throat, and finally, the attention was on him. “I mean, I’m down to go with you. What time are you supposed to pick her up?” He asked curiously, glancing at his phone for the time, which read 6:19 pm.

Sora also glanced at her phone before placing her attention on the youngest Holland. “Is she done now?”

Paddy unlocked his phone and glanced down at Hamilton’s Instagram page before nodding.

“Yeah. Looks like they just ended the stream. Mind if I tag along? Y/N/N forgot her winter coat in my car today, and the forecast claimed that it should be thirty degrees out.” Paddy responded before shrugging on his winter coat and boots.

Harry’s face melted into a concerned frown. “Who forgets their winter coat on one of the coldest nights of the year?” The boy stood up from his spot in one of the love seats, and shrugged on his winter coat, Sora following suit.

Paddy shrugged. “Y/N was in a rush to go. Today was the first day of dress rehearsals, and her hair wasn’t cooperating. When it finally did, she was extremely late, and almost didn’t make it inside the building in time.”

Sora shook her head. “Or maybe because she’s still not used to England weather? I mean Y/N, our other friend Aiyana, and I all grew up in Hawaii. All we know is the sun, sand, and ocean.”

“Ok, I just texted her. Y/N said to hurry because she’s waiting outside, and she swears she’s going to die of hypothermia. Oh! And she’s cool with coming back here if that’s what you were planning Sor.” Paddy piped in after typing something on his phone.

Harry and Paddy clambered into the car, with Sora in the driver’s seat. The car filled with gentle chatter, mainly from Harry asking a little more about Y/N, Paddy denying Harry a picture of what she looked like, and Sora cackling at Harry’s shocked expression of his younger brother denying him the ability to see what Y/N even looked like.

Around twenty minutes later, the trio had arrived outside Victoria Palace Theatre, and a figure came running at the car. Sora laughed as she unlocked the car, and Y/N threw her stuff in the boot/trunk of the car, slammed it shut, before running to open one of the doors, clambering in beside Harry, and slamming the door shut.

As soon as Y/N was buckled in, and Sora took off, back to the Holland-Osterfield-Barret residence, Harry turned to introduce himself before he felt all the air being sucked out of his lungs and body.

‘Holy shit,’ was all Harry could think when he saw the twenty-one-year-old. The young photographer was stunned into silence. Harry swore that Y/N was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. Nothing had taken his breath away quite like Y/N had.

In an attempt to recover, Harry flashed a sincere smile before waving shyly. “Uh. Hey. I’m Harry. Sora’s mentioned you a couple times.”

Y/N smiled brightly at Harry and giggled shyly. “I’m Y/N. I’m an exchange student, but looking to stay here full time, instead of immediately leaving right after my senior year.”

Harry’s head was swimming. All he could think was that he had met the literal definition of sunshine. Her smile was as bright as the sun, her giggle was as soft as a warm summer breeze, and her voice was ethereal. Not even five minutes into meeting the girl and he was already whipped. Harry swore that Y/N couldn’t be remotely human. She had to be a goddess. Maybe she was Apollo. A female incarnation of Apollo.

Harry nodded, returning a smile in kind. He could stare into her eyes forever. They exerted such a warmth, and only sitting next to her, Harry felt secure. Like he could tell Y/N anything without being judged. It was decided. She was his sunshine. His sunshine in the dark. God, he was so whipped.

Taglist: @peeterparkr @captainchrisstan @astridcommings @purpleskiesstorm @euphorichxlland @hollanderfangirl @zukoverse

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

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obligatorynasty · 4 years

Photo

The Weight of the Knife, Part 2: Whetstone

Part: [1] [2] [3] | Read on: AO3 | WC: ~7k | Please excuse any typos.

Main Tags: BadBoy!Tony, Highschool AU, NFF, Angst, TW:Mentions of Blood, TW:Abuse, TW:Graphic Depictions of Violence, TW:Bullying, TW:Underage Drinking and Smoking, Bruises, Hangovers and Mentions of Puke, [Read all tags on AO3]

Dedicated to @starker-stories, whose love for this AU kept me motivated to write more.

~*6*~

With the sheen of the morning sun and the general lack of partygoers and trash in the front lawn, Steve’s house was actually much nicer than Peter remembered. A proper dose of suburbia, complete with a neutral color palette and a brick mailbox. In the driveway, Steve, Sam, Happy, and Rhodey were packing the cars. Pepper, Bruce, and Bucky were chatting on the porch, while Tony was parked near the curb, leaning against his car with a cigarette perched between his lips. As for Quentin, he hadn’t arrived yet and, for that, Peter breathed a sigh of relief.

As MJ parked her car and went to join the group on the porch, Ned and Peter hopped out to help move the groceries into coolers, grabbing handfuls of bags from the trunk and walking them up the driveway.

“Hey, Peter,” Rhodey greeted, a friendly smile on his face as he took the bags. “Thanks for inviting us to this.”

“Of course,” Peter nodded, trying on a smile of his own, hoping it came off as genuine. “You guys are Tony’s friends.”

“Speaking of Tony,” Rhodey handed the groceries off to Happy and ushered Peter away from prying ears, whispering a wary, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two but Tony is really beaten up about it.”

Peter’s fake smile dropped into a concerned frown as he stole a glance at the brooding bad boy. “Did he say anything?”

“It’s less of what he did say and more so what he didn’t,” Rhodey crossed his arms. “He’s been working on Jarvis non-stop, like no sleep, no talking, no nothing for the entire weekend. The last time he was like this was when Pepper dumped him. So, as his friend, I’m asking: did you dump him?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“No,” Peter answered without hesitation, shaking his head, eyes widening in worry, “Does that mean he’s... is Tony dumping me?” He whispered, his heart beginning to race as he nervously gripped at the bottom hem of his shirt.

“No, no way!” Rhodey shook his head, lightly laughing, “He would never. Not with the way he talks about you.” He placed a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“What do you mean? He talks about me?”

“All the fucking time,” Rhodey explained. “He literally won’t shut up about you. So when he just stopped, I got worried,” He shrugged, gesturing over to Tony. “So can you go talk to him? See if you can stop him from being so angsty. Try to keep him from sucking the life out of the air.”

“I don’t know,” Peter sighed, shaking his head, “Talking has not gone well for us and I don’t want to start a fight, especially when everyone is trying to have a good time.”

“I see,” Rhodey nodded, eyebrows furrowing in thought before flashing a bright smile. “Then, if talking doesn’t work, just go over there and hug him or something. I’m sure that’ll work.”

“Wait, w-what?” Peter asked but Rhodey was already urging him towards the sidewalk, guiding him by the shoulders down the driveway, leaving him to take the final steps.

Peter hadn’t seen Tony all weekend; it was the first time that’s happened since they started dating. The older boy was wearing a black tank top, his arms exposed and crossed. Only moving them to toss the cigarette that was nothing but its yellow end. The sunglasses he wore were tinted so dark that Peter couldn’t see his eyes, but he guessed, by his relaxed chin and still face, that his eyes were expressionless.

“Hi,” Peter whispered, standing a couple of strides away, idly twiddling his fingers.

“Hey,” Tony’s voice sounded deeper than usual but Peter couldn’t tell why – if only he could see his eyes.

Peter gestured to the sunglasses, “Can you- um… take those off? Please.”

“Why?”

“Just because,” Peter mumbled, stepping towards his boyfriend with caution. Standing a mere inch away, close enough to inhale the lingering cigarette smoke and feel the heat of Tony’s body. “That okay?” He asked, eyes gentle and pleading.

Tony clenched his jaw, grumbling a short, “Whatever.”

Peter reached up, gently tugging the frames away from Tony’s eyes and frowning when he saw how red and puffy they were. The sight was heartbreakingly relatable. Over the weekend, Peter had cried in waves; tearing up at the thought of their arguments, or the bruise on his wrists, or the memories of their happier moments. He managed to hold back his emotions this morning because he had MJ and Ned to distract him but the state of Tony’s eyes had him biting the inside of his lip. He inhaled slowly, willing the emotions away and asking a careful, “Were you crying?”

“No,” Tony lied – blatantly lied – and didn’t bother coming up with an excuse either.

So Peter didn’t bring it up. Instead, he opened his arms and dropped his body against Tony’s, wrapping his arms around the older boy’s torso. It just felt right, even more so when Tony reciprocated. The hug was a wordless comfort; an apology through touch; a feeling of mutual understanding. An agreement to put it all aside; to enjoy their now and fix it later. Yes, they fought – yes, they were fighting – but this hug meant they still felt for each other and that made all the difference.

Peter nuzzled his face against Tony’s chest, relishing in the familiar comfort before gazing up at him, “Can we ride to the beach alone together?”

“Yeah,” Tony whispered, kissing Peter’s forehead and bringing a hand up to cup his face, using his thumb to caress his boyfriend’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Peter gave a solemn smile, “Me too.”

“Okay, lovebirds, that’s enough. We’re not done packing the cars yet. You can fuck each other later.” Rhodey interrupted, making the group burst into laughter.

And Tony laughed too, letting Peter put the sunglasses back before turning to Rhodey with a smile on his face. “Anything you say, Platypus.”

After that, the tension seemed to dissipate. Tony’s friends and Peter’s friends were peacefully mingling with each other, chatting and working to pack the cars. Everything was relaxed and fun and, for a brief yet amazing moment, stress free.

Then Quentin showed up.

“Hey guys!” He waved, stepping out of his car to introduce himself to Tony’s friends. He was bleeding charisma, managing to get some laughs as he helped put the remainder of supplies in his trunk before walking over to Peter.

“Hey, kid,” Quentin playfully smiled, throwing an arm across Peter’s shoulders like it was second nature. “How are you doing today? Is he giving you any trouble?” He asked, gesturing to Tony, who was visibly tense and scowling at Quentin like he was the scum of the earth.

“No,” Peter shook his head, awkwardly pulling away from Quentin’s hold and stepping closer to Tony.

Quentin audibly tsked, “Of course you would say that with him standing there.”

Tony flinched at that, briefly clenching his fist before taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I’ll be in the car.” He said, turning and walking towards his car

“Tones, wai-” Peter called out, being promptly cut off by the slam of the car door before turning his attention back to Quentin. “Honestly, Beck, you don’t have to worry about it. Me and Tony are just working through some stuff.”

Quentin sighed, “I get that but – I don’t know, Peter – he just seems dangerous. I’m worried that you’ll get hurt again.”

“I appreciate it but Tony isn’t dangerous,” Peter assured. “He’s more complex than that.”

“Fine but, at least, would you ride with me to the beach?” Quentin asked, grabbing Peter’s hand. “It will give me some peace of mind to know you’re safe.”

Peter quickly pulled his hand away, shrugging, “Sorry, Beck, I can’t. I already said I would ride with Tony and, like I said, he isn’t dangerous. I’ll be completely fine.”

Quentin clenched his teeth, “But you-”

“Okay everyone!” Steve interrupted. “We’re all set to go. Let’s try and get there before the sun goes down.”

With that, everyone piled into the cars, ready to road trip. Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Ned rode in MJ’s car and, naturally, Happy took Rhodey, Pepper, and Bruce. Peter was the only one left but his choice was made. Although he felt bad for leaving Quentin by himself, he would ride with Tony.

So Peter jumped into the passenger seat, wary at first that Quentin’s words had stoked a flame but happy to see Tony calmly selecting music. He smiled, soaking in the familiar scent of cologne and cigarettes, glad to be in Tony’s car without an argument brewing. Sounds of the whirring engine and the passing scenery were not as nerve-wracking with the gentle hum of his boyfriend’s singing. The moment was soothing and the temporary peace was the exact kind of comfort Peter needed. He was grateful. He really, really was – but he also wasn’t.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still upset,” Peter whispered. “It’s not going away.”

Tony nodded, breathing a deep sigh, “Yeah, me too.”

~*7*~

“Peter, wake up, we’re here.”

Peter roused from his slumber, lifting his head off the window and wiping a drop of drool from the corner of his mouth. He stretched, glancing at Tony as the car came to a stop in the driveway. “We’re here? How long was I asleep?”

“The whole ride,” Tony laughed as he pulled the keys from the ignition and reached across to fetch his cigarettes from the glove compartment.

“Oh,” Peter flashed an apologetic look. “Sorry, I should’ve stayed up to keep you company.”

“I didn’t mind. You’re cute when you snore, bab- uh... I mean, Peter.” Tony stumbled on his words, shaking his head as he exited the car.

And despite the awkward correction, those words were enough to make Peter’s face go warm, tinted pink in the evening sun as he stepped out of the car and into the sea-salted air.

The beach house was gorgeous with its glass-enclosed sun room, its soft pastel tones, and its large stilts to protect from the tides. The deck was well equipped with a fire pit, some lounge chairs, a grill, and stairs that led directly to the beach, which was by far the best part. The sand was picturesque – a perk of being on a privately maintained beach – and the water was a mesmerizing blue, at least in the orange hue of the budding sunset.

“Steve, this place is amazing!” Ned exclaimed as he ran up the front steps. “Let's hurry and swim before it gets dark!”

Peter laughed to himself as the group seemed to mobilize around that sentiment; unloading the cars in less time than it took to pack them and promptly settling sleeping arrangements. Naturally, Steve, Sam, and Bucky took the master bedroom, disappearing in there without question. Ned, Bruce, Rhodey, and Happy stole a room with two double beds, boasting about their en suite bathroom. As for the remaining three rooms, MJ and Pepper claimed one with a view of the beach, Quentin took the smallest one at the end of the hall, and Tony and Peter settled for the room with one window.

“This place is really nice,” Peter made small talk as he laid his suitcase against the floor of their room, unzipping it to unpack his things.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, tossing his duffel bag to the floor before sitting against the edge of the bed. An uncomfortable silence washed over the atmosphere. The only sounds were the rustle of Peter’s bag and the whoosh of waves from beyond the window.

“Hey.” Tony broke the silence.

“Hm?” Peter turned towards his boyfriend, surprised to find an outstretched hand beckoning him to the bed. He didn’t question it. He simply made his way over, taking a seat next to Tony and glancing at him out the corner of his eye.

Without warning, the older boy clasped his hand in Peter’s, squeezing gently, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathed out, keeping his words scarce, fearful that more would cause their interaction to spiral.

For a few long minutes, Tony just held Peter’s hand, idly dragging his thumb back and forth, caressing the younger boy’s skin. Then, he skimmed his hand down towards Peter’s wrist, brushing his fingertips against the tender bruise before whispering, “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Peter assured, turning his head to be kissed but blushing when he realized what his boyfriend meant.

Tony didn’t lean in. Instead, he lifted Peter’s wrist and left a flurry of soft kisses on the bruise. Slowly trailing upward, peppering kisses across Peter’s palm and fingertips. He paused, whispering against Peter’s skin, “Can I touch you more?”

Peter gave a soft smile, “Yeah, Tones.”

And Tony smiled – but it wasn’t all happiness – no, somewhere in his eyes Peter could see the worry lurking. Even as he grasped Peter’s waist and pulled him into his lap, he was so oddly careful. Careful in the way he skimmed his fingertips against the tops of Peter’s thighs. Careful in the soft trail up Peter’s back and the faint grip on his sides. Careful in the way his eyes flickered between those big brown orbs and those smooth pink lips. Deathly careful in the tone of his voice, so tender and desperate, “I don’t want to upset you anymore.”

Those barely-there words were like sirens in Peter’s ears, leaving a twisting pain in his chest as memories of their fights flooded his thoughts. All the confusion, all the insecurity, all the hurt. Feelings so vivid in his mind as he pressed his lips against Tony’s, seeking comfort in the very source of all his strife.

Their kiss was gentle and innocent, paired with soothing touches that sent static tingles up Peter’s spine and a flurry of emotions that brought tears down his cheeks. Silently trickling from the corners of his eyes as he brought his hands up to caress the stubble along Tony’s jaw. Thumbing tiny circles into the older boy’s cheek, guiding their lips even closer before pulling away slow, hovering just beyond that sweet sensation.

A blink sent cascades of new tears down the contours of Peter’s face as he stared into the pools of anxiety that were his boyfriend’s eyes. “I’m so mad at you,” He whispered against Tony’s lips, his voice shaky as the taste of warm breath and tears swirled inside his senses. “But I’m weak,” He breathed out a soft, defeated laugh. “I’m so fucking weak for you, Tony.”

For a moment, Tony’s lips trembled, parting and closing as if to vet the words that lay beneath. “I-” He spoke, his face hot against Peter’s fingertips before he tucked his forehead against his boyfriend’s collarbone, tightening his hold to further convey the message of his simple, yet curated words. “I missed you.”

Peter smiled through his tears, bringing his hands to Tony’s dark locks, threading his fingers through to the nape of his neck, where he rubbed mindless shapes into the flushed skin. “I missed you too, Tones.”

“And I’m so lucky to have you,” Tony muttered, his breath tickling the curve of Peter’s neck.

“But you hurt me,” Peter’s voice was borderline unstable and each deep breath he took only caused more tears to flow. “You have to tell me why. Please.”

Tony inhaled and held it, lifting his head and locking gazes with Peter, revealing the single tear stain that streaked across his cheek. As he exhaled, he struggled against the wetness pooling on his lashes, “Because I’m broken... and jealous—”

“Tony,” Peter breathed out, worry painted across his tone.

“—and everything was so out of control.” Tony paused, clenching his teeth and taking another breath. “The shit at home has gotten bad and seeing you with Quentin scared me,” His hands trembled against Peter’s skin, “It made me feel like you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Tony," Peter gave a small, reassuring smile. "You’re the only one I want.”

“But I’m scared you’ll leave.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

The next moments were filled with nothing but the echo of heartbeats and breaths as they embraced not only each other but the breakthrough they yearned for. A conversation that ended without anger; a conversation they needed; one they craved.

Yet again, Tony was the first to break the silence. This time with a more lighthearted tone. “You look hot today.”

“You like the shirt?” Peter softly giggled, wiping the tears from his face, “May bought it so I could look floral and beachy.”

“You look so cute in it, baby,” Tony smiled, pressing a kiss against Peter’s cheek.

“T-Tones,” Peter stuttered, averting his bashful eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, do you know that?”

“Tony-”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” Peter laughed. “You tell me all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s still not enough,” Tony grinned, squeezing his arms where they sat at Peter’s waist. “You’re beautiful, baby.”

“Thank you,” Peter’s laughter trailed off as he pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Now, I don’t want to ruin this mood, but we should probably join the others.”

“Or we could stay here,” Tony’s tone dropped low, husky and tempting against Peter’s ear. “And you can let me apologize to you properly.”

Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, “W-We shouldn’t r-right now.”

“Not right now, hm?” Tony whispered against the skin beneath Peter’s ear, “What if I say I’ll do anything you want?”

Those words sent chills across Peter’s skin. “A-Anything?”

“Anything you want, baby boy,” Tony assured.

A small whine escaped Peter’s lips as he posed a shaky, “Later t-tonight?”

Tony smirked, grazing his hand against his boyfriend’s inner thigh, “If you can even last till then.”

Peter’s face exploded in a dark blush. “I c-can!” He exclaimed, sliding off of Tony’s lap and walking over to his suitcase to grab his swim shorts, facing the wall to hide his embarrassment.

Tony snorted, “Whatever you say, baby.” The bed creaked as he stood and in a few short steps, his palms were pressing against the wall on either side of Peter’s frame. “But if that changes—”

Peter spun around, intending to interrupt but being dazed by the sight in front of him. Somewhere between the bed and wall, Tony had managed to remove his tank top. Fuck.

“—I’ll be here to help in any way I can,” Tony whispered, staring at Peter with a suggestive glint in his eyes as his tongue shot across his bottom lip. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter squeaked, his face much redder than before as he ran off to the bathroom to change.

In the honesty of the bathroom mirror, Peter could see how much of an impact Tony had on him; from flushed face to racing heart to budding erection. It was actually a nice feeling; to have that pain, which lingered inside him over the weekend, slowly evaporating. To know the bruise on his wrist would be easier to bear. To feel that his strife wasn’t eternal. It was nice.

Peter changed into his swimwear, opting to leave his floral shirt on but unbuttoned. He splashed his face with cold water and took a few deep breaths, calming his arousal before journeying back across the hall to their room.

Tony was lounging across the bed, shirt still off, swiping through his phone. “You could’ve got changed in here.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Peter laughed. “And you know it.”

Tony gave a sly grin, “Yeah, probably not.”

“What are you looking at?” Peter asked as he tossed his clothes atop his suitcase. “Aren’t you going to come swim?”

“I will. I’m just checking this notification about Jarvis.”

“What about him?”

“I spent a lot of time improving him this weekend,” Tony explained. “Upgrading his processing and, before I left, I ran some diagnostics.”

“Is everything working fine?”

“Yeah, he can even access Stark Industries now,” Tony smiled. “I’m a genius.”

“Okay, mister genius,” Peter rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but to grin, “I’m going to go swim so hurry up and get changed!” He giggled at Tony’s lazy Yes sir! as he exited the room and headed out the backdoor to the deck area.

Outside, nearly everyone was in the water or on the beach, save for the small group standing around the grill. Music, that Peter could only categorize as beach vibes, was pumping through the giant standing speaker Bruce brought. And the smell of grilled vegetables and barbecue permeated the salty air. This was the most spring break of a spring break trip Peter has ever taken and honestly, he couldn’t complain.

As Peter approached the grill, Bucky and Sam started whistling, playfully catcalling him. “Someone looks real glowy,” Bucky mentioned, gesturing up and down Peter’s body.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, lightly laughing along. “Some might call it that after-sex glow.”

“Guys,” Peter covered his face, “We didn’t!”

“Sure you didn’t,” Bucky teased.

“What didn’t you do?” Quentin asked, walking over with Steve, who was carrying a nearly empty platter of grilled kabobs.

“You see, Peter took so long because he was fu-” Sam began.

“I was nothing!” Peter interrupted, shooting Sam an exasperated look. “Let’s not talk about me,” He shook his head, nervously smiling, “Let’s talk about this food! It smells delicious.”

“You want some?” Quentin offered, grabbing the last kabob from the platter and holding it up to Peter’s mouth. “Have a bite.”

“Um, o-okay,” Despite being caught off guard, Peter took a quick bite, enjoying the savory flavors as it was fed to him and pulling away with a smile. “Wow, the sauce is good, guys!”

Sam sighed, shaking his head, “Quentin, you really have bad timing, bro.” He pointed to the back door, where Tony stood staring at the scene.

“Whatever, man,” Quentin just scoffed, unbothered, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Peter froze, watching as the bad boy strolled towards them, genuinely worried that he would be set off again by Quentin’s actions. “Hey, Tones, we were jus-!”

Without warning, Tony grabbed Peter by his waist and leaned in, licking some stray sauce from the corner of Peter’s mouth. The sight made Steve, Sam, and Bucky erupt into a symphony of Oooo’s and oh shit’s but, most importantly, laughter.

Tony pulled away, smirking at the flush on his boyfriend’s face. “That is good, did you make that Rogers?”

“Yeah,” Steve said through his laughter. “Well played, Tony.”

“I try,” Tony shot a smug grin towards Quentin, whose face had dropped into a scowl.

And Peter had no time to respond before Ned and MJ were calling him to get in the water and enjoy your spring break, dude!

~*8*~

After swimming and dinner and a fair amount of relaxation around the fire pit, the night began to spiral. Sam and Rhodey were pushing for drinking games because what’s the point of all these handles if we’re not going to get fucked up. It was a compelling argument. One that had them taking penalty shots if they uttered the word ‘cup’ during any game and gave rise to the chaotic drunk duo of Ned and Happy.

Peter learned a lot from these games, like how inexplicably well MJ could hold her liquor or how drunk Bruce could solve high-level calculus in his head without paper or a calculator. Then there was Steve, Sam, and Bucky’s shameless demonstration of a three-way kiss and, after a hilarious body shot dare, there were also lighthearted jokes about Rhodey’s huge crush on Pepper. However, to Peter, the best moment was watching Tony beat every single guy in the room at arm wrestling, especially Quentin.

As the festivities died down, Peter realized something a little later than he should have. He was hammered; smashed; thoroughly fucked up; wasted; trashed; drunk and, subsequently, super fucking horny.

Was alcohol supposed to work like this? Peter really didn’t know but something about Tony’s lap looked so inviting. All the bad boy was doing was sitting, arms resting across the top of the couch, knees parted for comfort – he was even wearing a shirt now – but Peter’s mind had ventured somewhere perverted; somewhere with that shirt off and thrown against the floor.

Suddenly, Peter was much closer than he was before. Fuck, how did he get here? Did he crawl over? He didn’t know, but that grin on Tony’s face definitely reads my boyfriend just crawled across the floor and has taken refuge between my legs. Peter giggled, his tone slurred and playful, “You want me to suck your dick, don’t you?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Tony grinned as he leaned forward, elbows against knees, bringing a hand to Peter’s flushed face.

“Yes,” Peter hummed, nuzzling Tony’s palm.

Tony gave a low, amused laugh, “Right here, in front of everyone, that’s what you want, baby?”

Oh, right. They weren’t alone. Peter glanced around the room. Most of the group had dispersed, but sitting on the adjacent couch were Steve, Sam, and Bucky. Judging by the litany of empty cans and bottles around them, they were all clearly beyond their buzz too. “Is that what you want, Tony?” Peter bit his lip and smiled, his body rocking back and forth to compensate for his spinning head.

Steve snorted, “No sucking dick in the living room unless it’s my dick.”

“I’ll suck your dick, doll,” Bucky whispered, slowly trailing his fingers down Steve’s chest.

“James, babe, don’t tease me.” Steve laughed.

Peter giggled, “You call him James?”

“What? Like you don’t call him Anthony when you’re alone.” Sam quipped.

“I don’t,” Peter pouted up at his boyfriend. “Why don’t you let me call you, Anthony?”

“I just hate how it sounds,” Tony shrugged as he gently caressed Peter’s warm face.

“Oh, okay, then I won’t,” Peter nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into Tony’s touches. “I like calling you Tones more anyway.”

“Yeah?” Tony smirked, moving to drag his thumb across Peter’s lips. “What else do you like?”

Peter whined and, if he wasn’t so filled with liquid courage, he wouldn’t have dipped his lips around Tony’s thumb and sucked the way he did. He wouldn’t have swirled his tongue around it or moaned on it. He wouldn’t have pulled off with a pop or given it so many tiny licks. He wouldn’t have done all those things if his body wasn’t as warm and as woozy as it was.

“Holy shit,” Sam mumbled with an incredulous look on his face. “That’s-”

“Hot,” Steve interjected.

Bucky shook his head, “Fucking hot.”

“They’re complimenting you, baby,” Tony whispered as he skimmed his fingers down Peter’s chin and stopped against his nipple, massaging the pad of his now wet thumb against the nub. “How’s that make you feel?”

“Good,” Peter softly moaned, leaning into the gentle pleasure his boyfriend gave.

Tony smiled, using his free hand to card through his boyfriend’s hair, “You should thank them then.”

Peter’s already flushed face went a deeper shade of red and his voice dropped to a murmur, “Um… But I-I’m...embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” Tony smirked, pointing to the very enraptured group of drunk teens. “Look, they can’t wait to hear you say it.”

“Okay,” Peter whispered, turning towards them with his chin tilted towards his chest. “T-Thank you...um, Steve, Sam, Bucky...for the compliment.”

“Stark, you’re killing me here,” Steve groaned, dropping his head against the back of the couch as Sam placed a hand over his mouth like he was trying to conceal a grin.

“Of course, doll,” Bucky replied with a smile. “You’re so cute, how could we not?”

“Agreed!” It was Quentin, entering the room with slurred speech and a mischievous smile. “Peter is cute. Really fucking cute.” He stressed, rounding the couch and taking a seat beside Tony and Peter.

Tony grimaced, pulling his hand away as he stood, “Peter, get up. Let’s go to our room.”

“What? No. Go ahead and continue the show, Stark, don’t mind me,” Quentin said as his eyes dropped to Peter. “I would love for Peter to thank me too.”

Tony inhaled sharp, muscles tensed with anger, “Don’t test me.”

“No, Tony,” Peter whined, gently tugging at the ankle of his boyfriend’s sweatpants. “Don’t be mad. Beck is nice to me.”

“See, Stark?” Quentin flashed a smug grin. “I’m nice to him. So relax. How about we have a drink, hm?” He offered, reaching to the bottles strewn about the coffee table and grabbing a nearly empty tequila. “We can finish this off.” He took a large swig before offering it to Peter. “Here, kid.”

“Thanks,” Peter mumbled, taking a swig of his own, the taste leaving his face twisted in discomfort. “That’s gross!” He exclaimed, hiccuping a couple times and causing everyone to laugh. Except for Tony.

“Peter, seriously-!” Tony snapped, reaching to pull the bottle away, surprised when Peter dodged him.

“No!” Peter slurred, clutching the bottle to his chest. “You said you wouldn’t make me mad anymore. So stop!”

Tony clenched his fists, trying to hold back his anger, “Don’t do this right now.”

“Hey, he said stop,” Quentin interjected, standing from the couch and facing Tony with irritation in his eyes. “So why don’t you stop being such a fucking dick?”

Tony seethed, “I swear if you open your fucking mouth again-”

“You’ll what?” Quentin challenged. “You obviously got a problem with me, Stark, so do something!” Quentin scoffed, arms outstretched like he was inviting Tony to hit him.

“No, don’t fight,” Peter urged, his brow furrowed and his lips in a pout, as he stood up a bit too fast, dropping the bottle and stumbling forward, careening face-first against Quentin’s chest.

“Well, hello there,” Quentin laughed, hands reactively clutching at Peter’s bare sides. “You feel just as nice as you look, sweetheart.”

And that was it.

Tony lost it.

The shock of the punch was enough to make Quentin drop Peter, who staggered away from them and tripped on the corner of the coffee table. And, as their battle raged on, Peter was falling, colliding against the floor with a loud thud! but even that wasn’t enough to stop their brawl. Things started to get hazy after that. Flashes of Tony wailing on Quentin, hard enough to make his nose bleed, and glimpses of the frantic way Steve and Sam tried breaking up the fight.

“Peter? Hey! Peter, get up! Peter,” Bucky was at his side – oh god, stop shaking me.

“Peter!” Somewhere in the haze, he could hear MJ too. “What the fuck are you idiots doing?!” She sounded pissed. “What happened to him?!” And worried. “Peter! Peter! Oh my god, he’s not waking up. Bucky, help me carry him.”

“Wait, no, MJ, let me help, I’ll-” Tony is so sweet. Yes, help her.

“No!” MJ yelled, “Stay the fuck away from him until you get your shit together, you violent prick!” Fuck, that was a little harsh, MJ.

And then things went dark.

~*9*~

The next morning, Peter’s head was heavy, pounding like he had walked through a construction site and slept next to a running jackhammer. The daylight burned his corneas and – oh no, oh god – nausea hit him like a wave. With a hand over his mouth, he shot up, eyes scanning the room for a place to hurl, surprised to find a conveniently placed trash directly beside the bed. In the next moment, he was puking but it came out clear like he had chugged a ton of water. He groaned, holding his queasy stomach, attempting to collect his bearings. Noting two very important things: one, he was in Ned’s room, and two, hangovers were not to be taken lightly. What the fuck happened last night?

“Oh good, you’re up,” MJ said as she ambled into the room, her face disappointed and her arms crossed. “You really fucking scared me, Peter.”

“Me too, dude,” Ned said, strolling in behind her. “I’m filing an official complaint. Drunk me does not handle stress well.”

Peter laughed but the pressure in his temple left him wincing, “What happened?” He asked, his voice groggy as he fell back against the bed.

MJ sighed like she had been through hell, “You almost died—”

“Okay, that’s an exaggeration,” Ned clarified.

“—and your violent boyfriend fought the new kid.”

“MJ, we’ve been over this, he isn’t violent,” Peter sighed, pausing as he processed what else she said. “Wait, is Tony okay?”

MJ dropped her face against her palm, “Of course he’s fine! You should be asking about Quentin, you know, the one with the black eye!” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Fucking hell, why do I even try?”

“They’re both okay,” Ned continued. “They didn’t fight that much, especially after you got sick and MJ bitched them out.”

“Oh god,” Peter let out a frustrated groan. “Is everyone else okay?”

“Yeah, Tony went out with his friends and I think Steve and the guys are outside swimming,” Ned explained. “We’re about to head to the store to grab some ice cream for everyone, so-”

“So, you need to go and apologize to Quentin,” MJ pressed. “He hasn’t been out of his room since last night.”

“Do I have to?” Peter complained, pulling the covers over his head in a sad attempt to hide from his problems.

“Yes!” MJ grabbed Peter’s arm and yanked him upright. “Go clean yourself up and apologize. I’m serious, Peter.”

“Ugh...fine,” Peter grumbled, reluctantly grabbing his puke trash can and following them out the room. “But what do I even say to him? I’m sorry you picked a fight you couldn’t win?”

MJ physically cringed, raising her voice in anger, “How about sorry my violent boyfriend beat the shit out of you?!”

“He’s not violent!” Peter snapped back, clearly exasperated, “Beck must’ve done something.”

“Quentin has been nothing but nice to you! Sure, he’s a flirty little shit, but that alone doesn’t make him worthy of getting his face kicked in,” MJ retorted. “You invited him on this trip, Peter. You made that choice!” She pointed at him, finger against his chest. “So take some fucking responsibility! And, just so we’re clear, you are not allowed to say Tony isn’t violent when I literally watched him give Quentin a black eye last night!”

Peter was floored by his best friend’s words, guilt filling his body as he stumbled to respond, “I- um...shit. MJ, I didn’t think- I’m sorry… I'm sorry you had to see that and I get it. You’re right.”

Ned nodded, placing a hand against Peter’s shoulder. “She usually is, dude.”

“I’ll talk to Beck,” Peter decided as he gestured to himself. “Right after I decontaminate.”

“Good, because you smell,” MJ said, smirking at the disgruntled face Peter made. “Also, so you can’t chicken out, figure out what kind of ice cream Quentin wants and text us,” She added just before disappearing down the steps with Ned.

Peter let out another long groan as he stalked into the bathroom to wash the trash can. Seeing himself in the mirror was awful, more awful in the bright lights above the vanity. His hair was a mess and, despite not having a shirt on, he was visibly sweaty. “Ugh,” Peter grumbled as he ran to grab his toiletries before hopping into the shower. His head still felt terrible, made worse by the thought of having to function for the remainder of the day. So, as he enjoyed his shower, he found himself swearing he wouldn't drink like that again.

After he got dressed and took the aspirin MJ kindly left on his nightstand, Peter made the journey to the room at the end of the hall. Pausing for a few beats before knocking on Quentin’s door. “Hey, Beck, it’s me, can I come in?”

A muffled Yeah came through the door, so Peter pushed it open, not at all fazed by the purple-ish bruise surrounding Quentin’s eye. “How are you?”

“Perfectly fine,” Quentin snarked, patting the bed beside him. “Your boyfriend has a good right hook.”

“And a good left,” Peter joked as he scooted onto the bed, pausing before beginning his apology. “Look, I’m sorry that Tony did that to you. It was wrong and I’ll talk to him about it.”

“It’s fine,” Quentin shrugged, turning against the bed, facing Peter. “Honestly, I probably deserved it.” He said, his eyes filled with worry. “I could’ve backed off but I just don’t like the way he talks to you.”

“What do you mean?” Peter squinted, still unsure about the specifics of last night.

“He’s dangerous, Peter, and I’m worried about you,” Quentin stressed. “You’re so amazing and kind, but also really funny and bold. You use words over fists and, I mean, you’re beautiful, like really, insanely beautiful.”

Peter blushed – much like he had done in the hallway after his and Beck’s first day together. Only, this time, Peter knew it definitely wasn’t infatuation. “Beck, I d-”

“I like you, Peter,” Quentin interrupted, reaching for Peter’s hand and interlocking their fingers. “I like you so much and, I’ll admit, seeing you with Tony makes me do stupid shit like fight but I just-”

“Beck,” Peter interrupted and took a slow breath, wanting his words to be as gentle as possible. “I’m sorry but I don’t like you in that way.” He began, “You’re nice as a friend but I’m in a relationship with Tony. I need you to understand that.”

“But are you happy with him?” Quentin challenged. “Didn’t he make you cry? Didn’t he hurt you?”

“Yes,” Peter gave a solemn nod, gently pulling his hand away from Quentin’s.“We had a bad fight but that’s part of it.” He shrugged, “I like him enough to work through stuff like that.”

Quentin sighed, falling back against the bed with a loud huff, “Not going to lie, my heart is a little broken right now.”

“I’m sure it’ll get better,” Peter smiled, trying to exude ease in his expression. “And if you ever feel comfortable enough, friendship will always be on the table. I mean, you saved me from Loki and we have so much in common.”

“A consolation friendship?” Quentin scoffed, a smile of disbelief planted firmly on his face. “I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“Well, if you don’t take it, all you would have is a black eye, so…”

“Hey!” Quentin exclaimed, laughing and playfully chucking a pillow at Peter. For a moment, he seemed fine but then his voice trailed off into a whisper and he rolled over, burying his face against the covers. “Hey Peter, I kind of want to cry my eyes out right now, so could you…”

“Oh, um… Yeah! S-Sorry, I’ll leave,” Peter stammered, shooting up from the bed and heading out the door.

And he made it all the way down the hall. He made it to his room. He made it to his bed. It was handled. Completely over and done. But a text from MJ had him rushing back. A simple question about ice cream had him standing in front of Quentin’s door.

At first, a whispered, “Hey Beck, MJ wants me to…” Then a pause as Peter listened; as Peter heard, yet again, betrayal. This time to the tune of one Quentin Beck.

Yes, I just tried that. It seems the Parker kid is actually in love with your son.

Yes, I’ve maintained a connection. We’re friends.

Yes, absolutely sir. I’ll check back in if anything changes over the week.

No, thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Stark. I won’t let you down.

~*10*~

Peter found that ugly sobbing was easier to do alone. So, for the remainder of the morning, he held nothing back. Not the infuriated screams into his pillow. Not the weak laughter at events so difficult to understand that they brought him to hysterics. Not the moments of silence, where he would ball his fists and fight the urge to do uncontrollably dark things. Not the tears, not the panic, not the ounces of fear that laid dormant within him.

But then Peter did; he held back those feelings, knowing he needed to pull himself together; grip his proverbial bootstraps and retaliate smart. So, while he cried into the void of his pillowcase, he also thought and considered and plotted. Like sharpening a blade on a whetstone, he planned and pictured the outcome over and over and over again until he was satisfied. Until he felt it was perfect enough to protect–

“Tony,” Peter gasped, surprised when he turned over to find his boyfriend standing by the door, watching with horror as tears flowed down Peter’s face. It was silent for a few moments of eye contact and shock, then Peter moved, sitting against the edge of the bed.

“P-Peter,” Tony’s voice trembled as he approached, dropping down onto his knees in front of Peter. “Hey, baby,” He breathed, gingerly cupping his hands on Peter’s arms. “I’m sorry...again. I know, I lost control, but I-”

Peter shook his head, “Tony-”

“Wait,” Tony interrupted, gazing up at Peter like a dog with its ears down. “Please don’t be upset. I know I messed up but please-”

“Tony, stop. It's not-”

“Peter, please don’t.”

“Don’t? What are you-?”

“Don’t break up with me,” Tony pleaded, a tear running from the corner of his eye. “Please.”

The sight of Tony’s single tear made ten times that amount fall from Peter’s eyes, but he shook his head, his voice rough from the sobs, “I’m not breaking up with you, Tony.”

“Really?” Tony breathed with disbelief, frantically searching Peter’s expression for the truth. “Then why are you crying?”

Peter gave a weak laugh and a flurry of more tears. “I’ll explain but I need to borrow Jarvis first.”

Tony was confused but wasted no time in handing his phone over. “Why do you-?”

“Just trust me,” Peter sniffled. “This is the only way I can know for sure.” He looked down at the phone, “Jarvis, give me everything Stark Industries has on Quentin Beck.”

“What?” Tony instantly reacted, shoulders tensing at the mere mention of his father’s company in relation to his rival. “Why?” A confusion so strong that it almost looked painful. “Why the fuck would Beck be in the Stark database?”

“Because,” Peter began, one hand trembling around the phone and the other trembling where it clutched to Tony’s arm. “He works for your dad,” He turned the phone, revealing Quentin’s employee file. “He’s being paid to break us up.”

“I’ll kill him.” A whisper that brought forth a rage that brought forth a fire.

Tony stood, body so tense that Peter could see the veins in his arms. He was seething, filled with pure hatred. He moved to his bag first, dumping the contents onto the floor until a very familiar butterfly knife clattered against it. In moments, the closed knife was in his hand and he was barreling towards the door, propelled by anger.

But Peter stepped in the way, pushing his hands against Tony’s chest. “Wait! You can’t, Tones!”

“No! Get the fuck out of my way, Peter!” Tony screamed, face going red in his outrage. “Get off!” He pushed Peter aside in one controlled shove. “He did this shit on purpose! He messed with us on purpose! He needs to pay!”

“I know!” Peter screamed back, throwing himself against Tony and locking his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “Tony, I know, but you can’t,” He pleaded, “Not in front of everyone!”

“Fuck that!” Tony snapped, trying to pull Peter off of him. “I’m going to break every bone in his fucking body!”

“You can’t!” Peter screamed once more, fighting against Tony’s strength with everything in his power.

“Why?! Why the fuck can’t I, Peter?!” Tony yelled, tossing the knife against the far wall in anger. “He’s gone too far!” He struggled more, pushing at Peter’s shoulders. “He deserves this, Peter, he- fuck,” He cursed, his strength waning as Peter held fast. “He fucking-” His voice was a whisper then, “He fucking takes everything,” He stressed, gasping before the tears came, no longer talking about Quentin Beck. “I’m just his fucking punching bag. Nothing I do is good enough."

And Peter looked up, bewildered as Tony’s breaths became sporadic; as his voice started to shake; as his eyes glossed over with a cloud of tears; as those tears slid down his terrified face; as he fully broke down. Relaxing in Peter’s hold, weakly dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, sobbing into his t-shirt.

“Mom is gone because of him,” Tony cried. “He controls everything. Everything! And he won’t even let me have the one fucking thing that makes this all worth it. Why is he trying to take you away too?”

Peter was quiet, letting the tears soak against him and realizing very quickly that this was the real weight of his knife. It was not to be some limiter for an unhinged delinquent; some purveyor of a faulty justice, deciding who gets cut down and when. It was this. This weakness in the blade; the part of it that was the most vulnerable; the part that, if struck, would crack the knife into a million pieces. It was Peter’s job to protect that part; to bear that weight; to hold the knife with intention.

“Don’t worry, Tones,” Peter whispered, pressing a kiss atop Tony’s head. “I’m not going anywhere and I promise I’ll take care of this.” He smiled, cupping his boyfriend’s face. “I’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me.”

Read Part 3: Here.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #badboy!tony au #obligatorywrites

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

Text

FALLEN LIKE SNOW - CHAPTER 3: FITFUL SLEEP

Written by @jeranasblog and Kinkybeanlien

Moodboard by @jeranasblog

Peter switches his means to get down the mountain, Tony has a rough night and Peter's lips become quite loose after a few too many drinks.

Notes: Adult Peter Parker, Fake dating, One sided nemies to lovers, No powers!AU, Mutual pining, Sugar daddy!Tony, Sugar baby!Peter, Fluff, Smut and Angst.

Smut tags (some for later): Wet Dream, Dry Humping, Daddy Kink, Mirror Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Bondage, Humiliation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Fingering, Edging, Lingerie, Dom/Top!Tony, Sub/Bottom!Peter

Read Fitful Sleep on AO3!

The next day started with another delicious breakfast buffet. Everyone was there to discuss their skiing trip of the day and Peter couldn’t help but feel like he was a nuisance after Mr. Osborn mentioned it was a waste Tony wouldn’t be able to enjoy the lovely weather on the Platten. Though, once again, Tony immediately jumped in. “Peter’s here for just the week. I’m not leaving him by himself.” Peter couldn’t help the blush warming up his cheeks. Tony was either very good at pretending to be Peter’s boyfriend, or he didn’t want to hang out with his other friends. Peter guessed the first one, since that was the kinder option of the two, to everyone. He hoped it truly was the case. The first half of the morning was dedicated to the trek to Königsleiten. It wasn’t long, per se, but for someone with only one day of experience, it was quite the workout. When they got out of the chair lift, Tony took one glance at Peter and smiled kindly. “Up for a drink at the Umbrella bar?” Peter immediately shook his head. “I can go a little longer.” “It’s still a vacation, Pete, and you don’t have to prove anything to me.” Tony rolled his shoulders, poking his poles into the snow. “Or anyone for that matter.” Peter nodded gratefully and looked up the mountain. “One lift up further and then some cocoa?” “Gah, kid, please- I’d kill for a hot cocoa with cream. Sounds perfect.” They took the lift up, huddled together next to each other, surrounded by a couple of other people whose language Peter couldn’t quite figure out yet. Most of Peter’s fear came from the guy next to him being a snowboarder. They usually get out of chair lifts a little diagonally, so if he bumps into Peter, they’ll fall over for sure. Right? “Oh, kijk uit, je stok valt bijna!” Peter looked at the guy next to him wide-eyed and confused. What did he say? The man suddenly moved in to grab Peter’s pole, which he only now noticed was only hanging by the strap. He nearly dropped it. “Eh, Entschuldigung, my German isn’t very good. English?” The guy then said. His accent was a little funny. “American,” Tony quipped with a smirk. Leaning forward to glance past Peter. “Cool!” The guy smiled brightly and he wiped the lenses of his ski glasses with his mittens. “Which part?” “New York,” Peter answered politely. “And you go skiing all the way over here?” “There’s no place like Tirol,” Tony sighed dreamily. “Tell me about it!” The man relaxed, leaning back into his seat. The chair lift wobbled a little. It was quiet for a few seconds. “So, where are you from?” Tony interrogates. “The Netherlands! It’s super flat over there, so I love going here.” “Your English is pretty good,” Peter said with a smile. “Thanks!” The man turned his head. “This your first time?” “Yeah,” Peter admitted, slightly embarrassed. “I’m having difficulty getting a feel for the skis.” “It takes some getting used to, for sure.” “How’d you start boarding?” Peter asked, genuinely interested. “Ah, I skateboard at home.” Peter didn’t reply and stared ahead. The Dutch man cheerfully continued: “Made the transition from skis to board pretty easy, actually. The biggest difference is that the board is attached to your feet.” “I… I skateboard too.” “For real? That’s awesome! Might wanna try a board then.” Oh, for fuck’s sake, how did Peter not realize the similarities? Now Tony has bought him expensive skis. “I probably shouldn’t,” Peter chuckled awkwardly. “Why not?” Tony asked, surprised. Peter pressed his lips together, hiding his mouth in his balaclava and nodding at his skis. “I literally just got these skis.” “If that’s the only thing stopping you, we’re headed to the shop.” “To-” Peter stopped himself from saying the man’s name. Their outfits gave them enough anonymity that nobody recognized them and they liked to keep it that way. “No biggie, kid.” When they neared the top, the man politely thanked them for the fun chat and, surprisingly, him getting out of the chair lift went way smoother than Peter had thought it would. Maybe switching to snowboarding wasn’t that bad of an idea… … They made their way back to the Isskogel after an early lunch and Tony immediately arranged some private boarding lessons for Peter since he wouldn’t be able to teach Peter that himself. Though, instead of going skiing on his own, Tony stayed at the Arena next to the kiddie hill to watch Peter’s lessons with a whiskey in hand. Peter’s progress was unexpectedly quick. It was evident Peter knew how to handle a board below his feet. Most of the mistakes he made were based around the urge to step off, which he couldn’t cause his feet were stuck. It made for some pretty funny faceplants. By four o’clock, when the snow had gone a little soggy from all the sunlight hitting it, Peter excitedly made his way to Tony, with the snowboard tucked under his arm. “That felt so much better?” He seemed almost surprised. “Glad it did. The board looks better on you too.” Tony said with an approving nod, chugging the rest of his drink, a typically Austrian Alm Dudler. “It does?” “Yeah, it’s more… I dunno, graceful? It fits-” Tony tossed his handwear into Peter’s face. The boy laughed and sat down with Tony, tossing it back. “Like a glove.” “You’re terrible.” “I know.” … After a particularly long nap and a lovely warm bath, Peter rocked up at the dinner refreshed and strangely confident. He sat down next to Tony and immediately put his head in his hand, looking at Tony with a wide, goofy grin. The entire evening went by so smoothly Peter barely noticed Tony had started holding his hand halfway through. They shared some bites of their meals and for a minute Peter wondered if Tony forgot that all of this was fake. Just like Peter did. Tonight they all went to bed relatively early. The weather would be particularly bad tomorrow, so they all wanted to be well-rested to go up the mountain. Snowy weather meant hard work and bad sight. It made Peter slightly nervous, but with how well today went, he was certain he’d do just fine. … “No-” Peter opened his eyes confused. He had no idea how late it was, but a voice had woken him up. Who was that? Tony? “No, please, stop-” That’s Tony. That’s definitely Tony. And Peter could hear him through the walls. Peter moved to sit up straight, flinching at his sore muscles. Tony’s whines were growing louder by the second. It sounded like he was in pain. Peter tiptoed to Tony’s bedroom, the door was half open and when Peter peeked through he felt a sudden rush of empathy. Tony was asleep, bare-chested. His skin was covered in a cold sweat, glowing under the moonlight. His breath was shaky. It seemed like he wasn’t actually breathing. Tony’s face was twisted in pain. “Oh, God, no- no!” Peter couldn’t stop his feet from moving forward. The fingers of his left hand curled around Tony’s upper arm and his other hand cupped the man’s chin. “Tony, Tony- wake up. I’m right here, you’re right here-” Tony’s eyes flew open and the man grabbed Peter tightly, squeezing Peter’s arms, convulsing. He gasped for air and shook and Peter’s heart sank as he saw the man’s sudden vulnerability. Tony’s jaw was tightened and Peter’s thumb caressed soft circles over it in an attempt to help him relax. Tears started to form in the corners of Tony’s eyes and Peter helped him sit upright properly. “Hey,” he said softly, trying to find the gaze Tony was now directing elsewhere in shame. A soft disapproving noise fell from Tony’s lips before he spoke. He was still panting, having trouble regaining control over his breathing. “Sorry you had to see that.” “Don’t say that.” Peter sat down next to Tony on the bed and it took them a little bit before they realized they were still holding on to each other. Neither of them wanted to let go, though. Tony still seemed too out of it to be left alone again. “I didn’t mean to wake you up…” Peter scoffed at that. “Literally the only time you’re allowed to be unapologetically selfish is when you decide my well-being is more important than yours.” “I…” Tony slowly let himself sink back into the mattress. His grip on Peter softened but never left. He stared at the ceiling, seemingly looking for something, but not finding it. He never finished the sentence he started. Peter frowned slightly before moving to stand up. “Let me get you some wat-” “No-” Tony exclaimed suddenly, surprising Peter when his grip tightened again. “No, please, don’t leave me alone.” He pleaded. His voice cracked and he looked like he was close to breaking down. “It was just a dream, Tony, you’re not alone, I’m right here. I’m just getting you something to drink.” “Don’t go… Please-” Peter quietly sucked in a breath when a tear glided down Tony’s cheek. He’d never seen the man like this before. So fragile and small. Peter pressed his lips together and nodded once. “Mind if I lay down with you?” Tony shook his head slightly and his shaking hands finally let go of Peter. He shuffled to the side and pulled back his sheets for Peter to join him. Peter crawled into the bed and laid on his side to look at his boss. The man’s eyes were still strained on the ceiling. “I was back in Afghanistan,” Tony whispered. Peter hadn’t expected the man to be so open about what had frightened him like this so soon. However, Peter immediately understood what Tony meant. About ten years ago, he was abducted by terrorists. General James Rhodes’s team managed to free him, but that’s about everything the media got to hear about it. Soon after that, Stark Industries completely closed down its weapons department and started focussing on renewable energy. Stark’s famous Arc Reactor is what saved the company and also what made Peter so utterly interested in working for Stark Industries. It’s a piece of biochemical engineering genius that Peter wanted to study and improve even further. He hoped to get that chance one day. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” “I have to. Have to get it out.” Tony’s reply sounded resolute. “They were waterboarding me- I, I couldn’t-” He took a breath and closed his eyes. His body started shaking again and Peter immediately moved to put his hand on Tony’s arm to ground him. The man opened his eyes, but he seemed to stare right through Peter. The younger man shuffled closer and gently placed his hand on Tony’s chest. With his other hand, he grabbed Tony’s to hold it against his own chest. “Look at me,” Peter whispered. “I am.” “You’re not.” At that comment, Tony’s eyes seemed to refocus. “What are you doing?” Tony asked quietly. Peter slowly sucks in air, raising his chest and with that, both his and Tony’s hand too. “Breathing.” The fingers of Peter’s other hand twitched on Tony’s chest. “As are you.” A faint smile spread across his face. “You’re in Gerlos, Austria, in the Alpina hotel. It’s about 3am on a Monday night. You’re in a giant king bed with me, Peter Benjamin Parker, the most annoying intern you’ve probably ever had.” “You’re not-” Tony frowned for a second and Peter was happily surprised to hear the soft chuckle and see the corner of Tony’s mouth curl up. “You’re distracting me.” “Duh.” Peter laughed softly but quieted down quickly. “Is it working?” It was silent for a little bit while their breathing started to go in sync. Slow and steady. The lights were still off, but Peter could see the reflection of the moon in Tony’s dark eyes. The man seemed to be studying him and Peter let him. “Yes.” They spent a bit of time talking. Tony explained that usually, he’d go to his lab after nightmares and that he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if Peter wasn’t there to snap him out of it. He was grateful, though still shaken up. Peter listened to him talk and in return, Tony listened to Peter. Their conversations were deeper, more existential, than the ones they had before. Which automatically made them more meaningful to both men too. At one point, Peter’s eyes started falling shut, exhaustion washing over him once more. He tried to stay awake, for Tony, but his boss started speaking more softly and monotone. Peter quietly disliked how the man was aware of Peter’s tiredness, and that Tony was trying to make him fall asleep. Unfortunately, Tony was winning. Tony’s choice of words and manner of speaking lured Peter closer to the sweet embrace of sleep. Peter’s replies came out slower. Slightly slurred. He jolted back awake a few times, but it never lasted longer than a minute before his eyelids started giving up on him again. Peter could faintly feel Tony’s hand caress his face as he slipped into a dreamless sleep. Right before he lost himself to his exhaustion, he heard Tony mumble. “Thank you.” … They didn’t talk about the nightmare the next morning. Tony acted as if nothing had happened and Peter didn’t want to force him to talk about it. The billionaire had already shared more about himself than Peter could have ever imagined, and he was thankful for the sign of trust. Instead, they left around the usual time after breakfast and walked to the ski lift. Skiing was a short affair that day. Half an hour after they had started, the weather turned, and snow clouded their vision. Peter couldn’t see even a meter ahead and when he almost knocked over a young child, Tony decided to call it a day. Osborn had asked him if he wanted to catch up on certain business affairs anyway and both of them were quite glad once they were back inside. “You can come with me,” Tony offered, but Peter shook his head. He didn’t want to spend his day talking about stock prices and company buyouts, and although he knew it wasn’t Tony’s favorite topic either, business was business. Instead, he decided to try something new and searched on the hotel’s homepage for activities inside. Yoga class at 12. He wanted to try it out anyway, so he decided to give it a shot. Spending time with Tony was fun, but he might need to relax, take a little time for himself. Dressed in some yoga pants he had found in his suitcase, Tony had literally bought him a stupid amount of everything, he left the room to search for the hotel gym.

‘Yoga for beginners’ wasn’t how Peter had imagined it. He had assumed an elderly spiritual woman would light up some candles and talk about finding your inner center, but instead, a woman not older than him was guiding the class. She explained how yoga could be both a way to relax as well as the opportunity to strengthen the core and the body. Peter found himself liking the class and he decided to maintain the habit once he’ll come back home. After a small warm-up, the woman showed them some exercises, and Peter noticed how his thoughts slipped away. It was the first time since they arrived that Peter was truly alone besides sleeping, and he started to process everything he had experienced. He was surprised to realize that his feelings regarding the billionaire had changed from hatred to sympathy and he actually enjoyed spending time with him. Of course, he had his flaws, but who hasn’t? He didn’t even care about pretending to be Tony’s boyfriend anymore and against all odds, he wasn’t counting the days until he could go back home, either. Time flew by and way too soon he found himself lying on the floor, a pose the woman called ‘Savasana’, and he was focusing on his breathing for three minutes. Yoga had been more fun than expected. “You had fun?” A familiar voice tore him from his thoughts and Peter could see Tony standing in the doorway of the small gym. Peter smiled at him, actually glad to see the billionaire. When he approached Tony, he could see that the man’s gaze was focused on his thighs and Peter realized how tightly the pants were hugging him. He didn’t comment on the billionaire’s slip, a little flattered by the intense stare. “Yes, it was pretty great. Definitely wanna do it again when I’m back home.” Tony cleared his throat, his eyes reluctantly wandering higher until he looked at Peter’s face. His eyes were dark, almost black, filled with suppressed hunger. “Great, let’s go. It’s almost dinner time. I wanted to pick you up,” Tony’s voice was actually a little deeper. … Peter was staring at himself in the mirror. The black cashmere turtleneck hugged his body in a way that clothes have never hugged his body before. He tugged at the long sleeves and straightened his back, took a quarter turn and looked at how the tartan pants cupped his ass. He swallowed and let his hands roam his torso for a bit. The fabric was soft. It even felt expensive. And somehow, that was what made it feel strangely good. And the fact that Peter was wearing Tony’s money made it feel even better. His boss spent this money on him specifically. He made sure Peter looked good and that had Peter feeling things he couldn’t quite place. MJ’s words from before the vacation emerged from the back of his head. Sugar daddy. Peter sucked in a breath, feeling his cock stir at the thought. Everything about Tony’s and Peter’s fake relationship was a perfect example of everything… Sugar. The only thing Peter hadn’t done yet was ask for something rather than just receiving and the longer he stood in front of that mirror, staring at himself, the more he was warming up to the idea. Quite literally. A small voice in the back of his head told him to not indulge too much. All of this was still fake. It would be over after this vacation. Right? “And there’s me thinking I’m the vain one.” Tony’s voice right behind Peter made him jolt and whip around. Tony chuckled. “It’s just me-” “I’m not… I’m not vain, I’m just-” Peter slowly turned back to face the mirror again and he cocked his head. He’d styled his playful curls to be a tiny bit more controlled, but he wouldn’t admit it took him over half an hour to get it that way. Vain? Him? Of course not. “Pete, you’re hitting minute seven of ogling at yourself in that mirror. It’s okay, you look great.” Tony stepped a little closer until he was standing right behind Peter. The younger man couldn’t help but stare at the two of them in the mirror. Together. Tony’s gaze was dark, almost as if the man was undressing him with his mind. And where Peter would’ve scolded Tony for it before, he definitely didn’t mind the attention now. The pants were getting tighter around his member and Peter hoped that Tony didn’t notice. “You’re a pretty boy.” Tony’s voice was low, vibrating through Peter’s body as the billionaire’s lips nearly touched the shell of his ear with each spoken word. Peter blinked at their reflection, certain that the mirror in front of them was the Mirror of Erised from the Harry Potter universe. This couldn’t be real. He must’ve been imagining things. But no. He could feel Tony’s chest pressing against his back and the warm breath tickling his skin. Peter couldn’t stop a soft gasp from escaping his lips. “Did I say something wrong?” Tony asked quietly. Peter shook his head and replied softly as he folded his hands in front of him in an attempt to hide his growing hard-on. “No, Mr. Stark, it’s- It’s okay.” Neither of them moved, both unsure of what situation they were currently in. “I guess I like being pretty?” Tony chuckled. “Lucky you…” His hand rested on Peter’s arm for a few seconds before he completely stepped away from Peter, breaking the moment with a clearing of his throat. “You’re always pretty.” Tony quickly left the room and Peter was certain the man muttered some swear words. Did he not mean to say that? Peter swallowed and turned back to the mirror to look at himself one more time. If Tony’s a Sugar Daddy… Maybe Peter’s the Sugar Baby? … A few minutes later Tony and Peter entered the dining room, the billionaire’s arm wrapped around his middle. Peter was still a little agitated from their conversation, unsure of what he should think about Tony. He had hated him until recently and now he was already telling him he liked to be pretty? Dreaming about calling him Daddy and wanting to be his Sugar Baby? It was a little much and Peter struggled with feeling anxious. His own mind was making it so much harder for him and he wished he could turn his thoughts off for a minute. Luckily, their dinner company was way lovelier than it had been the days before. Hammer and Osborn senior were signing some contracts and only Pepper, her husband and Osborn junior were left. Peter sighed in relief. Pretending to be Tony’s ‘significant other’ could be stressful sometimes and he was more than glad that he didn’t have to keep up with difficult people as well. The conversation was easier tonight, more personal and less focused on business. Peter learned that Pepper’s husband Marcus was a child therapist while Harry Osborn was studying law. Tonight, he didn’t decline the server’s offer to bring him wine, loosening up from the pleasant company. He touched Tony more casually and he realized that the billionaire was more relaxed as well, almost carefree. Eventually, Peter lost track of how many glasses he’d downed. “-and then I accidentally blew up the lab.” Tony was telling one of his favorite stories, about when he had forgotten to turn off the Bunsen burner, and Pepper added some snarky remarks. “You can’t imagine how badly the whole lab stank. The smell lingered for days.” Peter giggled and emptied his glass of wine. Was it the second, the third? Fourth? He wasn’t even sure anymore. “I was so mad at him,” Pepper continued. “Didn’t talk to him for days. Unfortunately, I forgot that I had promised him to help him with an experiment the next day and he went all rough on me, telling me I couldn’t break my promises just because I was a little mad.” The whole table was laughing, the mood light, and Peter felt fuzzy all of a sudden. The effect of the alcohol hit abruptly and the world dissolved into its colors. The feeling of being carefree and airy was too strong and Peter realized only vaguely that he had drunk too much. Maybe that was the reason for his next words. “I like it rough.” Everyone looked at him. Tony with surprised hunger, his fingers twitching around his fork, while the other three stared at him with amusement. “Well, it’s good you’re with Tony then.” Pepper smiled at him. “He can be quite- overwhelming sometimes.” “I love to be overwhelmed.” Peter put most of his weight on Tony, leaning all over him. He hid his face in the crook of Tony’s neck for a second, but quickly pulled up again to continue his babbling, feeling the urge to tell the world all his secrets. “And I love to feel pretty as well.” He proudly looked at his boyfriend. Boyfriend… Yes, that’s it. It was the first time he could actually see the billionaire blush and his fuzzy brain convinced him to call him out on it. No coherent words fell from his lips, but his index finger gently pressed into Tony’s cheek. Tony blushed even harder. The look on his boyfriend’s face made Peter frown a little and the same hand he touched Tony with traveled down to his tight tartan pants. Were they… Tighter? “I think I’m getting hard.” “Alright, that’s our cue.” Tony patted Peter’s shoulder and gently pulled the younger man’s hand off his growing member. “Pepper, Marcus, Harry, it was nice talking to you.” Pepper tried to hide her grin behind a fist, while Harry was openly laughing at them. “But Tooony,” Peter drew out his name, the world starting to spin around him. The man slowly lifted them from their seats, having to carry nearly all of Peter’s weight. “We didn’t even have dessert.” “You can have dessert in your room,” Harry’s voice was dirty and he winked at him, playfully wiggling his brows, but Peter didn’t get what he was talking about. He grinned anyway, turned to Tony again and leaned in. “Can you overwhelm me later?” Peter whispered in Tony’s ear, at least he tried to, but a loud chuckle from Harry made evident that he talked louder than he intended to. “Anything, honey, if you just leave with me right now.” Tony’s voice was a deep growl, and it lit up every cell of Peter’s body, making him burn even more than the alcohol did. “Yes, Sir.” Tony’s loud groan echoed through the room. Peter didn’t remember how they got back to their room, but in the next moment, Tony was unlocking the door to the penthouse. Peter stumbled through the doorway, Tony’s arm wrapped around his middle, keeping him upright. Everything was colorful, swirling around him like a carousel and he reached out, trying to catch a haze of color. His fist closed around nothing. “Let’s get you in bed, Pete.” Tony pulled at his clothes, stripping him, and Peter felt good, so good, so crazily good. The billionaire would finally overwhelm him, show him what Pepper was talking about. Peter was guided to his bed, wobbling a little before he fell face-first onto the mattress. He waited for Tony to join him, to hold him down, to whisper filth into his ears, but nothing happened. After a few seconds, Peter turned to his back, trying to find Tony, only to realize that he had left the room. Loneliness filled him all of a sudden. It was so devastating that Peter scrambled to his knees and pushed himself up, determined to walk to Tony’s bedroom. He was swaying and stumbling, following the rush of colors to the door at the other end of the penthouse. Without knocking, he opened the door. “Peter?” Tony was already lying in bed. “Don’t wanna sleep alone,” Peter slurred and dropped onto the bed. It felt warm here, so much warmer than his own bed, but the confused haze of the other man was bugging him, stopping him from giving in to sleep. “M’tired. Don’t wanna leave ya. Nightmares.” Peter snuggled against the strong chest, savoring the closeness to Tony. It felt right in this moment. There were no concerns left, no doubts or restrictions, only the warmth of the billionaire. His boyfriend. “Mr. Stark, do you like me pretty? Do ya wanna dress me in ling-lingerie, keep me in your bed and m-make me call you Daddy?” The chest he was lying on suddenly tensed and a low groan buzzed in his ears. Did Tony like to be called Daddy? “Daddy?” Peter tried it again, for experimental purposes, of course. Just to see how the older one would react. This time, he even heard a little moan. “Pete, you’re drunk. Just sleep, all right?” Peter grinned broadly and buried his face in the billionaire’s chest. “Yes, Daddy. ‘m gonna sleep. Protect you from the nightmares.” Tony groaned again but didn’t comment on the name. “Night, baby boy.” It barely took a minute before Peter drifted to sleep, carried by the carefree feeling. He felt as if he was flying on a cloud, looking at the sky while he was snuggled against his Daddy. Life was pretty great.

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

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Here it is, @ilovemesomekillianjones , your birthday fic! I hope your day yesterday was amazing. I also hope you love your gift. It got way more angsty than I was anticipating, but I promise it has a happy ending and there’s enough fluff in there to soften the angst.

Summary: Emma Swan knocks on his door the morning after Christmas and continues to do so off and on well past the new year. Killian Jones knows, however, that he must tread lightly, so he never knocks on hers. Until one day in May . . . Although, technically, he doesn’t knock. Loosely inspired by the song of the same name by Counting Crows.

Rating: M

Trigger warning: referenced sexual assault because Eloise IS Alice’s mother in this, and it follows canon in how it happened; also there is a mild, brief scene of domestic violence - but it’s not as bad as it sounds! There are also cute kids, mommy!Emma and daddy!Killian, and a kitten. Yes, a literal kitten.

Words: almost 7,000 (yeah the angst fest got out of hand!)

Also on Ao3 and the final installment in my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @welllpthisishappening @distant-rose @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @jennjenn615 @branlovestowrite @shireness-says @hollyethecurious @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @profdanglaisstuff @winterbaby89 @scientificapricot

And it’s been a long December, and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last.

December

“Know what they never tell you about live Christmas trees?”

Emma Swan asks her neighbor Killian Jones this with flashing eyes and a slight scowl upon her face, yet there’s also a hint of vulnerability in the pink of her cheeks and the way she nibbles her bottom lip. She’s balancing her boy Henry on her hip, and the two year old is nuzzled into her neck with bleary eyes as he sucks his thumb. It’s only six in the morning the day after Christmas, and a knock at his door is already odd enough for Killian. A frazzled Emma Swan shooting him a random question when he opens said door is enough to short circuit his brain.

She moved into his building about two months ago, right next door, and every attempt Killian has made to innocently flirt with the woman has been met with barely restrained hostility. Hell, even his attempts at being neighborly has gotten him nothing more than an eyeroll. Yet, here she is.

“Umm, I’m not sure what you’re asking . . . “

How can he possibly be his normal, eloquent self? It’s six am the bloody day after Christmas and Emma Swan has knocked on his door.

“Taking it down,” Emma huffs, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face and adjusting her hold on Henry. “Does a Hallmark Christmas movie ever have a montage about taking a Christmas tree down? No, they don’t, because it’s depressing and irritating and when you’re done you’ve got a damn forest’s worth of pine needles on your floor.”

Killian can’t help the way his eyebrow hitches up or the half smile that tugs at his lips. “You took your tree down already? It’s only six in the morning the day after Christmas.”

“You don’t think I know that?” she snaps, and Henry lifts his head to scowl at his mother in an uncanny way before he resumes his thumb sucking and plops his head back down on her shoulder. “But I’ve got a twelve hour shift today, and I have to get Henry to the babysitter by six thirty, and the tree’s been a fire hazard for days now. So I thought I’d just go ahead and take it down. How long could it take? But now I’ve got a dead tree in the hallway, I haven’t got a damn clue what to do with it, and Henry and I haven’t even had breakfast yet!”

Emma shuffles her Croc-clad feet, her eyes flashing even more than before. Killian takes in her scrubs for the first time and frowns.

“You’ve got another shift already?”

Emma shrugs. “The ER can’t exactly close for the holidays.”

“That is true.”

“I’m just lucky I got yesterday with this little guy.” Killian’s heart warms as she presses her forehead to Henry’s. “This guy’s the reason I got a real tree in the first place. I just wanted him to have a perfect Christmas, you know?”

“I get that. I’d do just about anything for mine, too.”

“Oh shit,” Emma groans, “I forgot about your kid! Did I wake her up?”

Killian chuckles. “Don’t worry. Alice could sleep through a hurricane.”

Emma lowers her eyes, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. “I must look crazy to you, knocking on your door so early, rambling on about a dead tree.”

“Not at all,” Killian tells her cheerily. “I’m an early riser, first of all, and second, I will gladly dispose of your tree, Ms. Swan.”

Emma meets his gaze, a smile turning up her lips. “Ms. Swan? Aren’t you a gentleman.”

Though every attempt at flirting in the past has been soundly rebuffed, he can’t resist leaning closer to her and waggling his eyebrows. “I’m always a gentleman.”

This time, thankfully, she huffs out a tiny laugh. “And you’re sure about the tree?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he vows dramatically, pressing his hand to his heart. Emma’s eye roll in reply is for once endearing.

“Do you want me to . . . like . . . um, pay you back?”

Killian waves her off. “No, that isn’t necessary. You know that park a block east?” Emma nods her head. “They do an event every year where you can drop your tree off for free to be recycled.”

Emma lets out a long sigh of relief. “You really don’t mind? I mean, I could take it later. As long as the landlord doesn’t mind a dead tree in the hall . . . “

“Nonsense, Ms. Swan. You’ll be dead on your feet after your shift, and it will be something fun to do with Alice. She’s still on holiday from school until after New Years.”

“Oh, right, well . . . “ Emma begins to shuffle her feet again, and he can tell she isn’t used to asking for or receiving help. Little does she know how much he can relate.

“Have a lovely day, Ms. Swan,” he tells her gently, knowing she isn’t quite sure how to get out of this social exchange that probably took all of her nerve to initiate to begin with.

“You too,” she says softly before turning to go. Just as she reaches the stairwell, she looks over her shoulder at him. “And next time, it’s just Emma, ok? Every time you say Ms. I feel like a kindergarten teacher.”

Killian laughs. “Emma it is, love.”

Her cheeks are a lovely pink once again before she heads down the stairs, and he can’t deny a surge of pride that it’s now from his words rather than embarrassment. He contemplates leaving her tree in the hallway where it’s propped next to her door, but their landlord Leroy can be a bit of a curmudgeon, and the last thing he wants is Emma getting grief from the man. So he retrieves it, thinking there’s no reason he and Alice can’t dispose of their own tree while they’re at it. If the apartment will be littered with pine needles soon anyway, what are a few more?

Emma wasn’t kidding when she said it had been a fire hazard for days. When Killian picks the thing up, it reminds him of Charlie Brown’s tree. So many needles fall as he hoists it, that they make a soft tinkling sound on the worn hallway carpet. It’s incredibly light, a foot shorter than he is, and has sparse branches. It can’t have been much of a tree even when new, and it makes his heart break just a tiny bit

“You’ve had a tough December, haven’t you?”

Killian says it to the tree, but he’s thinking of Emma and Henry.

January

“Do you have a toolbox I can borrow?”

Emma Swan is soaked, her hair sticking to her cheeks and her long sleeved tee leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Killian forces his gaze to remain on her face, swallowing thickly. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so he simply nods and rushes to retrieve his toolbox from underneath the kitchen sink. Before he hands it to her, his brow creases with concern.

“Can I help you with something, Swan?”

She scowls and grabs the handle of the toolbox, but he doesn’t let go.

“Nope, just the toolbox. And I told you - it’s Emma.”

“I didn’t say Ms.”

“You’re also not letting go of the damn toolbox,” she snaps while giving the box a tug.

He relinquishes it then, lifting his hand to scratch behind his ear. “I’m quite handy if you’re in a pinch,” he tells her, but she’s already rushing back to her own door.

“I can take care of myself,” she practically shouts before she slams her door shut.

Killian chuckles as he shakes his head fondly.

“Who was that, Papa?” Alice asks from her spot at the kitchen table where she’s eating her morning oatmeal.

“An amazing woman, starfish, who lives next door.”

He never does get his toolbox back.

February

“Did you write this?”

Emma Swan is standing in his doorway holding up a book that she’s clearly checked out from the library, judging by the plastic covering and the stickers on the binding. Killian smiles fondly at the title: Tilly Joins a Pirate Crew.

“Aye, guilty as charged.”

“It’s really good,” she tells him with a genuine smile. “Henry loved it. I wish I could get you to sign it, but it’s from the library.”

“Don’t apologize. Writers are huge fans of libraries.”

Emma smiles a bit shyly, then turns the book in her hands. “It’s a series I noticed. How many are there? Henry was pointing at all these other ones shown on the back cover.” Her gaze turns soft as she imitates her two year old. “Dis one, dis one, dis one - that’s what he said. Which is two year old speak for I want to read these, too.”

“Um, yes,” Killian tells her, leaning closer to see her copy, “this shows the first three, then there’s this one, but there’s also Tilly Goes to the Moon and Tilly on Safari.”

He looks up to see Emma’s gaze on him instead of the book in her hands. She’s closer than he realized, and he can see the flecks of gold in her light green eyes.

“And your bio says you write books for adults too?”

Killian gives a wry laugh as he pulls back to put space between them. “I used to, but Alice is my only muse these days.”

Emma nods, grinning broadly, “I thought Tilly might be based on your daughter. Henry will be ecstatic the next time we run into you in the lobby when I tell him she’s the real Tilly.”

“I wouldn’t do that actually,” Killian tells her in a low voice, leaning closer once again. “My lass will adamantly inform you that she is Alice Jones, thank you very much.”

“Of course she will.” Emma’s gaze darts from his eyes to his lips. Then again, that may be just wishful thinking.

“I can get you some autographed copies if you’d like.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t -”

“Free of charge, of course.”

Emma hugs the book to her chest, and he can see her mental battle play across her face.

“For Henry?” Killian adds, and it’s the thought of her son that causes her to yield.

“Okay. I suppose that would be alright.” She lifts a hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear and shuffles her feet. He’s come to learn that it’s a nervous habit. “Goodbye, Killian.”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

One of these days he’ll invite her in - once she no longer seems to dash from his door like a startled bird.

March

“So how many hats has Alice gone through this winter?”

Emma Swan’s voice trails off at the end, the smile vanishing from her face when she sees Eloise standing there. Killian has never been so happy to see his Swan. He practically shoves Eloise aside to get to Emma, clearing his voice loudly.

“Swan! So lovely to see you. Eloise was just leaving.” He looks pointedly at the woman.

“Yes, I suppose I’ve said all that needs to be said.”

She looks at him coldly, and he tries not to shudder. His body deflates as soon as he can no longer see her in the stairwell. He turns to Emma with a wobbly smile. She’s standing there looking confused, twisting a wool hat in her hands. It looks familiar, and Killian realizes its Alice’s. The one they couldn’t find when she left for school this morning.

“Could you . . . would you like to come in? I just made a pot of fresh coffee.”

“Sure,” Emma says, giving her head a small shake, “I have a few minutes. I found Alice’s hat on the walk outside and thought I’d run home on my break to give it to you. The temperature is supposed to drop later this afternoon.”

“That was thoughtful,” Killian says, “but you didn’t have to do that.”

Emma waves off his concern. “The hospital is only two blocks, and I wanted to enjoy a walk before the weather changes. I am so ready for spring.”

“Aren’t we all?” They both fall silent as he pours the coffee and sets out the cream and sugar. He notes how she does her coffee - sweet enough to cause a toothache. He doesn’t know why, but he files the information away.

“Three,” he tells her over the rim of his mug.

Emma cocks her head. “Pardon?”

“The answer to your question when Eloise opened the door,” he tells her, setting his mug back down. “That is the third hat I have had to buy for Alice this winter. She lost the first two I bought her.”

“I’ve got you beat then,” Emma counters smugly. “Henry is on his fifth hat.”

Killian whistles in sympathy and then chuckles. They fall silent again, but he knows the question that is coming when Emma begins to stare plaintively into her coffee.

“So, Eloise . . . “

“Alice’s mother.”

“Oh.”

Killian knows he should probably elaborate, but just Eloise being here has already made

him feel completely unsteady. He refuses to have a full blown panic attack in front of Emma. She doesn’t press him for more information, however, and they fall silent once again.

“The Pirate Politico Series,” Emma blurts out.

Killian raises one eyebrow. “Seems we’re playing some sort of word association game today.”

“The thriller series you wrote. You were a bestselling author of political thrillers.” She gestures around his modest apartment. “What are you doing living here?”

He follows her gaze around the small space, the open concept kitchen/living combo with he and Alice’s art supplies crammed in the corner, the two doors side by side that lead into their miniscule bedrooms, and on the other side, the bathroom he shares with Alice. It’s so small he’s knocked his shins on the tub more than once while trying to trim his beard or brush his teeth.

“Well,” he sighs, running a hand wearily over his face, “let’s just say I’d do anything for my daughter.”

“Meaning?” Emma presses gently before taking a sip of her coffee.

He can tell by her expression that she isn’t trying to pry, so he lets out a long breath and decides to give her part of the truth.

“That fine arts academy she goes to isn’t cheap, even the tuition for first grade, and you know as well as I what real estate costs here in the city. But my Alice is immensely talented, and I will cultivate that and encourage it no matter what it costs.”

Emma nods, a knowing smile upon her lips. “You’re preaching to the choir, Jones.”

She doesn’t get to stay long, but he cherishes every word, every glance, every blush when he innocently flirts with her. When she rises from the table and heads to the door, she turns nervously before she reaches for the doorknob. “Um, I also wanted to ask . . . or, Henry wanted to ask, if you and Alice would like to come to his birthday party this Friday night. It’s nothing much. We’re just getting together at that pizza place next door. Around six? It’ll be us, Henry’s babysitter Mary Margaret, her husband, and their little boy Leo. Leo’s in kindergarten, close to Alice’s age, so -”

“We’d love to, Swan,” Killian interrupts her with a gentle voice and an easy smile.

She lets out a breath, and he can’t believe she was so nervous offering such a sweet and innocent invitation. He wonders as he has so many times who wounded her so deeply.

“That’s great. I’m so glad - er, or that is, Henry will be so glad.”

“So will Alice,” he tells her softly.

She rewards him with a pretty blush before she closes the door behind her.

April

“Have you seen Henry? Is he here?”

Emma’s words combined with the terror in her voice and the paleness of her skin makes Killian’s heart plummet.

“No! Alice, have you seen Henry?”

She shakes her head no as she abandons the painting she was working on to race to the door. “Is Henry okay?”

“I don’t know!” Emma cries out, racing towards the stairs. Killian and Alice are right on her heels. “I collapsed after my shift, but Henry was napping too, right next to me. I woke up, and he was gone! Then I saw that I forgot to lock the door!”

“He’s only three, Swan, he can’t have gotten far.”

Killian reaches out to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze, but she barely notices. The three of them race down the three flights, calling Henry’s name. When they reach the lobby, they check behind the potted plants and the trash cans, but still no Henry. They burst outside, still calling his name, though Henry’s nowhere to be seen on the sidewalk. Emma races out into the street, angry drivers laying on their horns and swearing in her wake. Killian pulls her back to the curb, but her fists fly out, landing on his chest. A hysterical choking sound escapes her lips, but no tears come - not yet.

“I have to -”

Emma’s shout is interrupted by Alice’s voice. “He’s over here!”

The adults whirl around to see Alice by the apartment steps. They race to her, and there is Henry crouched in the open space beneath them. A tiny ball of black and white fur is curled in his lap. Emma’s tears come then as she scoops the lad up, showering his face with kisses and clutching him to her chest.

“Henry, oh God, oh God. You scared me to death! Never, ever do that again!”

She sets Henry down on the bottom step and kneels in front of him, her hands skimming over his small frame as if checking to see if he’s in one piece. Henry seems completely oblivious to his mother’s turmoil, grinning up at her as he lifts the tiny animal he’s discovered. It’s a kitten, scrawny and mewling softly. It’s mostly white with black patches, one around its right eye.

“Look what I found, Mommy!”

Emma’s trembling, her face wet with tears, and Killian can tell the words just won’t come. He kneels down next to her and reaches out for the kitten.

“Well, would you look at that,” he says, smiling at Henry.

“It’s super skinny,” Alice comments worriedly.

“Nothing a little tuna can’t fix,” Killian assures the children, “and I think we have a can upstairs.”

“Good,” Alice says with a wrinkle of her nose, “then you won’t make me eat it.”

The four of them head back inside, but at the top of the first flight of stairs, Emma grasps his arm.

“Henry can’t keep that kitten,” she whispers. “My shifts are way too long to take care of it.”

“But I work at home,” Killian points out, “and Henry can come over and play with it any time he likes.”

Emma’s brow furrows. “But that’s a lot of work and money. You’d have to get a litter box, and clean up after it, and -”

“And Alice and I will enjoy it. She’s been pestering me for a pet anyway. Everybody wins.” He raises a finger and presses it lightly to Emma’s nose. “And don’t say a word about giving me money, Emma. That’s not how things work between friends.”

Emma’s shoulders finally relax, though he can still see tension in her face, and both of her hands are clenched into fists. He knows it isn’t about the cat anyway, so he gives her space and quiet while he, Henry, and Alice feed the kitten. Emma slowly lowers herself into one of his kitchen chairs, and Killian notices that she’s trembling slightly.

“You know what?” he announces brightly to the kids. “I think what this kitten needs next is some green grass and fresh air. How about we take him to the park?”

“How do we know it’s a him?” Alice asks.

“Hmmm . . . “ Killian replies, lifting the kitten and turning it belly up. “Aye, definitely a boy.”

“But how could you tell?” Alice presses.

He colors slightly because Emma’s there, but he’s always tried to answer Alice’s questions honestly. He gives her a brief explanation of cat anatomy, hoping Emma doesn’t mind her three year old listening in.

“Oh, he has a wee wee like me!” Henry proclaims, and behind them Emma bursts out laughing.

“I’m glad this is so amusing to you, Swan.” He smiles, however, relieved to hear her laugh.

Emma shrugs. “I’ve just never seen your face so red.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Tremendously.”

They head to the park, and Emma seems more and more relaxed as they walk. They sink onto a bench side by side as Alice and Henry race to the playground equipment. The kitten is cradled in Henry’s arms, and when they reach the mulch covered play area, they set it down. The kitten takes a few tentative steps on the strange surface, but it’s only a few minutes before he’s racing around, the kids squealing and laughing at his antics.

The two of them sit quietly watching the children and the kitten. Finally, Killian looks over at Emma and says softly, “Every parent freaks out when they can’t find their child.”

“You’ve lost Alice before?”

“Aye. We were at the market. I swear I only took my eyes off her for a second, and she was gone. Well, not gone. She’d wandered over to the bakery to admire the cupcakes. Never even knew we got separated.” He chuckles now at the memory.

“How old was she?”

“Four. It felt like it took me forever to find her, but it was probably only a few minutes.”

Emma nods then lifts trembling hands to her face. “I was so afraid.”

Killian knows, somehow, there’s more going on here. “Afraid of what, love?” he asks her gently.

“Nothing.”

He doesn’t press it, and they fall silent again watching the children. They’re taking turns going down the slide with the kitten in their laps. He ponders for a minute if the kitten’s being tortured, but then decides its okay as long as they’re holding it and not sending the poor thing down by itself.

“Emma,” he finally gathers the courage to say, “I didn’t tell you the whole truth. About why Alice and I live in this neighborhood.”

Emma’s gaze snaps to his, and she narrows her eyes.

“I mean,” he clarifies, “it’s partially true. But honestly, my royalty checks from Pirate Politico alone could get us a better place. The Adventures with Tilly books are doing pretty well too, actually . . . “ he trails off. He hadn’t meant to brag about his success. He’s stalling, that’s what he’s doing. “Is this about Alice’s mother?”

He nods, blessing Emma internally for helping him out. She reaches over and rests her hand on his knee.

“She demanded a lot of money when you split?”

Killian clenches his jaw. “We were never a couple.”

He glances at Emma, but she isn’t looking at him with either scorn or pity. “A one night stand isn’t something you have to hide from me, Killian.”

He stares down at his hands. “It wasn’t that either . . . not exactly. She’d call it that, but . . . “

Emma’s hand slips from his knee to close over his fists. “Killian, you don’t have to explain.”

When he speaks, it’s scarcely above a whisper. “I want to. The only other person I’ve told is Belle, and that’s because she practically pried it out of me. She’s my brother’s widow, you see, and I . . . “ he takes in a long, shaky breath, then releases it slowly.

He leans back against the bench, watching the children play to remind himself that some things in life are still pure. Emma eases one of his hands open from the fist he’s made and laces her fingers with his. Killian stares at their intertwined fingers, and the words begin to pour out.

“It was right after my Milah passed. She was . . . everything to me. The love of my life. I was in a dark place after she was gone, but I had one last book to complete in the Pirate Politico series. My muse died right along with Milah, though, and so I was struggling. The publishers assigned me a new editor, thinking that would somehow make a difference. It was Eloise.”

As if she can sense how difficult this is, Emma squeezes his hand gently. He manages a tiny glance her way, then stares down at their hands again, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“Eloise made sexual advances regularly, even after I told her I wasn’t interested. Even after I told her it made me feel uncomfortable. Some of them even had thinly veiled threats attached, implying it would be beneficial to my career to accept her. It made no difference to me. My desire to write seemed long gone, anyway. It got to the point that I would only have contact with her online or over the phone.” Killian pauses and rubs a hand wearily over his face before he can continue. “The publishing company had a Christmas party every year. They put immense pressure on me to come that year. I had finally, somehow, finished the damn thriller, and they needed me to rub shoulders and help promote it. I remember arriving at the party, vaguely, and I remember sitting down at the bar . . . “

Killian is embarrassed when he feels as if his chest is constricting, and he struggles to take a breath. Emma rubs at his bicep with one hand, her other still clinging to his.

“You don’t have to tell me the rest.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve gotten this far. May as well get to the bitter end.” He attempts a self-deprecating chuckle, but it falls flat. “Anyway, Eloise sat down beside me at the bar. I . . . I really don’t remember anything after that. I could always hold my liquor, so I wonder . . . Anyways, next thing I know I’m waking up in her apartment in her bed. I was sick and mortified. Getting out of there is a blur.”

“Killian,” she says softly, “that’s awful. It’s . . . it’s evil. You could have gone to the police.”

Killian laughs bitterly. “And you think they would have believed me? You think they would have charged her? No, Swan.”

“But stuff like this is finally coming out, people are talking about it now. With #metoo and everything, people should know that men can be -”

“Swan, don’t say, it please. I’ve never been able to say the word out loud. Maybe I should, but -”

“No, I’m sorry,” Emma quickly tells him, “this is your story to tell. I just wanted you to know that . . . I’m . . . on your side?”

She gives him a half shrug and an apologetic look. He’s finally able to hold her gaze, knowing despite her lack of words what she’s attempting to convey. After a moment, he looks away from her, his eyes landing on Alice.

“When she showed up at my door nine months later with Alice in her arms, I knew. The moment I held her, I knew she was mine. My lawyers insisted on a paternity test, but it only confirmed what was deep in my heart.” Killian looks intently in Emma’s eyes. “Eloise never wanted to be a mother. She never wanted Alice. She only wanted -”

“Your money,” Emma finishes for him.

Killian nods, and he suddenly feels spent, exhausted. There’s more he could tell, he supposes, but he simply no longer has the energy.

“Was that why she was here back in March? To ask for more money?”

“Anything to keep her satisfied and away from Alice. I have never invited her to the apartment, though. That day, she just showed up.” He liftsEmma’s hand to his lips and brushes a kiss against her knuckles. “I was so relieved when you showed up.”

“God, Killian, I’m so sorry. You must have been terrified. I noticed you weren’t yourself that day.”

“Until my guardian angel showed up,” he tells her with a wink.

Emma rolls her eyes and laughs. It lifts the heaviness that his tale had invoked, and they both relax against the bench. Emma doesn’t release his hand, though, and it feels natural to sit here this way. After a few moments, Emma speaks without looking at him.

“Henry’s dad never wanted him, either. When I told him I was pregnant, he wanted me to get an abortion. When I said I wouldn’t, he assumed I’d give Henry up for adoption. We had a huge fight when I told Neal I was keeping him.”

“Did he hit you?”

Emma shakes her head. “No, but I’d never seen him like that. He was literally shaking with rage, but when he saw me packing my bags, he turned back into the guy I fell in love with. He begged me to stay, said we’d make it work, and like a fool I believed him.”

“You are not a fool, Emma Swan. You are bloody brilliant.”

Emma’s smile is bright. “Thanks. It was a mistake to stay, though, I see that now. After Henry was born, Neal wanted nothing to do with him. Everything - midnight feedings, diapers, baths, it all fell to me. Henry was colicky, too, and there were times that Neal would scream at me to shut him up. Again, he never hit either of us, but I was in a constant state of anxiety wondering when he would blow up at me next. I couldn’t do anything right, either. I was stupid, naive, a bitch. He called me all sorts of names.”

Killian’s jaw clenches so hard he fears he might break a tooth. Whoever this man is, he’s the idiot for not adoring Emma and Henry. A single tear tracks down Emma’s face and Killian can’t resist reaching out to wipe it away. She gives him a tremulous smile before resuming her story.

“The last straw was last October. It was the worst fight we’d ever had, and Neal was drinking. He threw a tumbler of whisky across the room, and it shattered on the wall right above Henry’s high chair. Henry started screaming, of course, and Neal stalked out. The last thing he said to me was that brat better shut it before I get back, or I’ll make you regret it. I packed Henry and I up as fast as I could and got out of there.”

“That’s why you had so few boxes when you moved in.”

Emma nods. “I didn’t even leave a note. I just left.”

“Are you afraid he’ll find you? Is that why you were so terrified when we couldn’t find Henry?”

All Emma can do is whisper, “yes” as more tears slip down her cheeks. She dashes at them angrily. “I don’t think he will. He told me a thousand times that he never wanted to be a father. He was probably relieved to find us gone, but I still worry. I still feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Killian can’t think of a thing to say, so he simply puts his arm around her and pulls her close. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and she sighs against his shoulder. He rests his chin atop her head as they silently watch the kids.

The sun is getting low in the sky when the children run over to them. Alice has the kitten cradled in her arms.

“Look, Papa, he fell asleep!”

Emma and Killian lean over and smile fondly at the adorable little ball of fur. Sure enough, it’s tiny eyes are closed and its body rises and falls with even breaths.

“He needs a proper name,” Killian comments.

“Oh, we already named him,” Alice says,

“Checkers!” squeals Henry.

“Oh, I see,” Emma says, gathering Henry onto her lap, “because he’s white and black.”

“I said chess has a board like that too,” Alice pipes up, tilting her chin as if she’s so much wiser than Henry, “but it’s Henry’s kitten.”

“Well,” Killian says to his daughter with a twinkle in his eyes, “that was certainly kind of you, starfish.”

“I know,” she says.

Killian looks over at Emma and thinks how beautiful she is in the waning light. They’ve shared their deepest traumas and their deepest fears, both revolving around the children they both love more than life itself. She’s released his hand to hold Henry, but her fingers still brush his where they rest on the bench.

And they share a kitten. Maybe he’ll be knocking on Emma’s door sooner than he hoped.

May

“When are you going to ask Emma to go on a date?”

Killian almost chokes on his oatmeal at his daughter’s question. “What in the world,” he coughs, “made you think of that?”

Alice shrugs as she scoops a giant spoonful of marmalade out of the jar and plops it onto her toast. “Cuz you like her.”

“Not so much marmalade, starfish,” he admonishes in auto-dad mode, “and of course I like Emma. She’s my friend just like you’re Henry’s friend.”

“Uh-uh,” Alice argues, shaking her head. “It’s not the same kind of like. You look at Emma like this -”

Alice widens her eyes, creases her forehead, and lets her jaw drop open. Killian can’t help but laugh.

“I do not look like that!”

“Okay like this, then -”

Now Alice clenches her jaw in an uncanny imitation of her Papa, her eyes blinking and sad. Killian guffaws even louder, tears coming to his eyes. God, he loves this little girl.

“Maybe you should try out for the next school play.”

“I might,” she says brightly before taking a huge bite of her marmalade toast. With her mouth full, she says, “There’s a summer acting camp, and I -”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, starfish.”

She dutifully swallows, then continues, “I think I wanna do it. Matilda the Musical is the -”

A loud crash comes from next door, followed by loud shouting and a scream. Alice looks at her father with wide, frightened eyes.

“What’s that Papa?”

There’s another crash, another scream, and Killian jumps up from his chair. He ushers Alice quickly to her room and presses his cell phone into her palm.

“Lock yourself in your room, Alice, and call 911.”

“Yes, Papa,” she tells him, even as tears gather in her eyes.

Killian presses a kiss to her cheek before he runs from their apartment. He doesn’t even pause at Emma’s door. It isn’t locked, so he barrels inside. A man he’s never seen before has Emma by the arm, shaking her, and before Killian has time to reach them, the man shoves Emma to the floor. She cries out as her elbow collides with the coffee table.

“Hey!” Killian yells. “Get away from her!”

The man - Neal, Killian assumes - only glances over his shoulder. “This is none of your business” he snarls.

Neal reaches for Emma again, but Killian intercepts him. He grasps Emma’s ex by the front of his shirt and shoves him against the wall.

“It is my business,” he growls. “You are never to even come near her again.”

“You fucking this guy, Ems?” Neal laughs.

Killian doesn’t hesitate - he pulls his fist back and punches Neal in the face. The man

howls and doubles over, holding his bleeding nose.

“Shit, man! You can have her.”

Killian yanks him up by the back of his shirt. “My daughter called the cops, so if you want to stick around and explain all this to them, be my guest.”

Neal’s eyes widen at that, and he runs from Emma’s apartment with grumbled curses. Killian could care less about the man, however, as he rushes to Emma’s side. He helps her up and gets her settled on the couch.

“Are you okay?”

Emma presses her lips together, her face pale, but she nods her head. “Yeah, I think so.” She’s cradling her arm against herself, and she winces when she tries to move it. “Did you really call the cops?”

“Well, I told Alice to call 911 when we heard you screaming. I’m sorry if I -”

Emma raises her uninjured arm to stop his flow of words. “No, Killian, I would have done the same. Am I embarrassed? Hell yeah, and now I’ve gotta explain this to the police.” She bites at her lower lip. “But that isn’t your fault.”

“What happened?”

“He showed up at the hospital, and I could tell he was pissed. I didn’t want him causing a scene, and I was about to get off my shift anyway, so I brought him here. I called Mary Margaret to ask if Henry could stay a little later this morning.”

Emma closes her eyes, and Killian gently put his arm around her.

“I was telling you the truth, Killian, when I said he never hit me. Today was the first time he ever did that. He wanted to know why I left him. Said I humiliated him, made him look like a fool.”

“I don’t think he needs any help in that department.”

Emma is able to snort out a tiny laugh at that, but it’s followed by another wince.

“You need to get that arm looked at too, love.”

Emma turns to him, her gaze soft and warm. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

His lips curl into a smirk. “Well, you rebuffed my heroics when your pipes burst. I had to prove my chivalry somehow. Not that I don’t think you can -”

His words are cut off when Emma presses her lips to his. It’s quick and chaste, and when she pulls back, she’s the one smirking. “Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?”

He raises one eyebrow. “I beg to differ, Swan, for every time I’ve opened my door, your standing there talking a mile a minute. Peppering me with questions completely-”

She cuts him off again with her lips, this time more aggressively, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He responds in kind, threading his fingers through her hair and swiping his tongue across the seam of her lips. She opens for him willingly, and he feels the kiss like fire rushing through his veins. He hasn’t felt his way in far too long. When they part, they rest their foreheads against one another and breathe in each other’s ragged breaths.

“The police,” is the first thing Emma says.

Killian’s brow furrows. “That’s . . . um . . . “

“Another word association game?”

They both laugh at the shared joke. Emma strokes his cheek with her hand. “Alice called 911, and I don’t want the police thinking it was about you.”

“Right,” he says, shifting away from her and scratching behind his ear.

“This isn’t the way I imagined it, you know.”

“Imagined what?”

“Your first time in my apartment.”

“Aye,” he teases, “I always imagined knocking.”

The Following December

“Know what they never tell you about live Christmas trees?”

Killian twists his head up to see Emma. He’s been wrestling with the stupid tree stand, and Emma’s smirking down at him when she’s supposed to holding the top of the tree to keep it steady.

“That it’s a bloody chore getting them into the stand?”

“No,” Emma replies cheekily, “they never tell you how hot your boyfriend will look with his butt sticking out of the bottom.”

Across the room, Alice doubles over to fake vomit. “Ugh, I’m gonna need counseling!”

“Those acting classes are really paying off aren’t they?” Killian quips. He stands, satisfied that the tree is secure, and brushes needles and bits of bark off his hands.

“Can I put the star up, Daddy?” Henry asks, reaching up with the gold tree topper in his chubby hands. He started calling Killian that a few months ago, and neither he nor Emma had the heart to stop him.

“Sure, lad,” Killian says, sweeping him up in his arms. He holds the boy steady as he sticks the star on the tip top of the tree. Emma and Alice cheer and clap, to Henry’s delight. Killian adjusts the boy in his arms as he steps back to brush a kiss first to Alice’s forehead and then to Emma’s lips.

Killian thinks about the ring in its velvet box, already wrapped in silver paper in his sock drawer. Yes, Henry can go ahead and call him “Daddy” because soon, it will be official.

It’s been a long December, and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last.

#cs ff #cs modern au #angst #fluff and angst #angst with a happy ending #cs single parent ff #knightrook #fandom birthday playlist #for ilovemesomekillianjones #for her birthday

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staracha · 5 years

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bitter grudges and simple touches pt. 1- han jisung

i didn’t intend for this to be so long, i even had to take away the spaces in betweent the paragraphs so i could post this all together :// but i will probably be writing a part 2 to this to lmk what you think! this is a female y/n enemies to lovers with jisung from skz, enjoy lol

*********

“move you dipshit.”

jisung made no effort to make room for you on the couch after you had tripped over his bag. “how about you watch it, dumbass!”

“please kill me now,” seungmin groaned on his side of the couch and rubbed his temples.

“seungmin, tell this dumbo to move over,” you gestured towards jisung as he sent glare after glare at you.

seungmin sighed, “hey dumbo, move over.”

jisung, who was currently taking up two-thirds of the couch, made sure to lay his body on the arm of the couch as well. “tell the idiot i said no.”

seungmin grudgingly tried to shove jisung’s legs off his lap. “hey idiot, the dumbo said no.”

you huffed before taking matters into your own hands by reaching for jisung to pry him off the arm of the couch that he had been draped across.

“get your nasty hands off of me!” jisung yelled as he tried to shove your hands away.

“i wouldn’t have my hands on you in the first place if you just would’ve moved!”

“i should’ve just gone shopping with my mom,” seungmin thought aloud. he shook his head causing his cherry red hair to bounce a bit.

you had successfully managed to move jisung enough to squeeze your way onto the couch. you tried to ignore his brown hair pressing against your arm considering he still refused to sit upright.

“was that so hard, jiji?” you asked him, feigning a concerned expression.

“having to breathe in the same room as you has been hard enough.” he muttered, still not sitting up. “you could have let me relax in peace.”

you could still feel his hair tickling your arm. “pfft, my bad! i’ll just leave the room next time.”

he tilted his head a bit, looking at you upside down. “please do.”

you flicked his forehead and snickered as he let out a loud ‘ouch.’ he winced, rubbing his forehead before brushing his hair in order to cover it.

“i’m more sick of you two than you are of each other,” seungmin said as he shoved jisung’s legs off causing him to fall into a sitting position. “i’m wishing i could go home right now, but i am home.”

you rubbed the spot where jisung’s hair had been tickling you. “you know i would’ve left a long time ago if my mom wasn’t working late today.”

“just walk home! problem solved,” jisung suggested, sending a wide smile towards you.

“you’re stupid if you think i’d head home just because of you.” you reached over to flick his forehead once again, but he quickly pushed your hands away.

“seungmin, i don’t know how you’re friends with someone so fucking rude.”

you scoffed, “i could say the same about you.”

“i was gonna cover dinner for all of us, but if you two keep it up, you’ll only get an empty stomach and walk home.”

jisung shot up from his slumped position. “dude, i’m supposed to sleep over tonight. you know i don’t have my house key with me.”

you laughed in his face. “sucks to be you!”

seungmin pointed a finger at you. “oh and you too! don’t think i’ll spare you just because you’re set on proving jisung wrong.”

it was jisung’s turn to laugh in your face.

“seungmin, i’m trying so hard not to pound jisung in the face.”

“good. keep trying cause it’s progress.” seungmin pulled his phone out and stood up from the couch. “i’m ordering takeout for us. don’t kill each other while i’m gone.”

jisung took that as a cue to lift his legs and place them where seungmin had previously been sitting. he tilted his head to look at you and smiled cheekily.

you averted your gaze from him, “i just lost my appetite.”

he frowned, letting his head fall from his held position. “what the hell did i do to deserve this?”

“you know what you did, dumbass.” you said through gritted teeth.

“yeah and i apologized; did i not?” he spoke quietly this time, his voice just above a whisper.

“forgiven but never forgotten.”

it’s not like you and jisung had issues the split second you met. on the contrary, you two actually got along well considering you had mutual friends. it all went wrong at a stupid high school party. halloween high school party to be exact.

you hadn’t been too fond of parties all that much. the loud atmosphere and crowded environment never seemed appealing to you but you were there that night nonetheless only because of hyunjin.

hyunjin had been a close friend of yours for quite some time now and you had developed a small (read: big) crush on him. so when he had asked you to tag along to the party with him, you simply agreed with no other thought.

hyunjin had no issue dragging you along with him wherever he went that night. even as some people joined the conversation here and there, creating a small group with others who you vaguely knew from some classes, hyunjin stayed right by your side. the night had been going well. keyword: had been.

jisung had come up to you guys at some point. he was such a lightweight and everyone knew that. even he did. yet, that hadn’t stopped him from drinking. so before you could even ask him to repeat what he had said- not having understood him due to his mumbled voice and loud music -he threw up on you. it was disgusting, humiliating, aggravating- you name it.

jisung hadn’t meant any harm, in the back of your mind you knew that. especially from the various apologies that he sputtered out after realizing what he had done. he even tugged you to the bathroom to help you clean up, ultimately deciding it was better for you to remove your dirtied shirt and wear his hoodie instead.

at that point you had no intention of heading back out, but you thought it was better than leaving hyunjin without a word. you were going to tell him that you planned to call it a night and head home. maybe if you had, he would’ve taken you home like he always did. though, immediately after spotting him, you made the choice to just call a taxi and text him you headed home. it was stupid, really. he was simply talking and laughing with a girl you recognized from your guys’ math class. it was stupid for you to leave just for that and you knew it. but you also knew that she was interested in him and he was interested in her. maybe you hadn’t known for a fact that he was interested in her, yet you didn’t have to wonder for long because hyunjin had told you all about it the next day after asking where you had gone.

about two or three months after the incident and they were dating. still are. and yeah, it’s a bit stupid to subconsciously blame jisung for it all when the boy neither did anything really nor knew anything else that had happened to you, just that he had thrown up on you and felt like shit afterwards. literally and emotionally.

you didn’t even bother giving him his hoodie back. you kept it stuffed away in your closet. he never did bring it up and it could’ve been for the same reason he no longer tried being friendly with you. the glares and shitty attitude weren’t meant to last this long. maybe a week or two at most is how long your actual grudge regarding the whole situation had lasted. though, once he started acting cold towards you, it was like an unspoken agreement on hating one another. no one in your friend group understood why it had escalated to that when you two had previously been on nothing but good terms.

it happened nearly a year ago and you were beyond over your crush on hyunjin. you were even friends with his girlfriend, who was nothing but sweet the moment you started talking to her. so much for trying to be bitter. things were better off the way they were now. most things at least.

jisung’s frown was still present on his face when you looked down at him.

“stop giving me that look.” you stopped yourself before you could continue.

“why?”

you felt yourself frown as well, “it’s like looking at a puppy that was just kicked.”

“this isn’t the first time i give you it,” jisung seemed to be thinking aloud, his voice just slightly above a whisper.

“yeah, well it’s the first time i really have no choice but to look at you and it’s making me feel like i’m the person who kicked the puppy.”

“maybe because you are.”

now that kinda hurt, but he did have a point. you couldn’t deny that. you had been the one to kickstart this whole thing.

“how about you finally explain why you kicked the puppy?” he added a small laugh at the end, trying to keep the tone as light as he could. “cause the puppy would like to know. me. i’m the puppy.”

you had to keep yourself from laughing a bit at the comparison he kept going. “yeah? maybe an actual puppy wouldn’t bombard me with these type of questions.”

“tell me.” he insisted, inching just a bit closer.

“i’m not telling you shit, jisung.” you let out a small laugh, looking away from him.

he tested the waters and made a move to scoot up a bit so that his head rested on your lap. “come on, y/n.” he looked directly up at you, despite not receiving your attention. “you’ve left me wondering for too long.”

you felt the weight on your lap, but chose to ignore him as you propped your elbow on the arm of the sofa, leaning your cheek against the palm of your hand.

he sighed loudly, reaching up to poke your cheek. “hello.”

“goodbye.” you joked, still having your eyes wonder around all the family pictures seungmin had in his living room rather than the boy who had his head in your lap.

“y/n.” he tried again, poking your other cheek. he repeatedly poked your cheeks, alternating from left to right.

“woah, y/n isn’t trying to kill you for once.” seungmin looked genuinely surprised as he walked back into the living room.

“i’d prefer that than being ignore!” jisung exclaimed, letting his hands fall down from your face.

“now that’s saying something.” seungmin said as he motioned for jisung to make some room.

you expected jisung to actually sit upright this time, but he just curled his legs in and didn’t move away.

seungmin sat down in the now empty spot. “by the way, felix invited himself over so he’ll be here in a bit.”

“oh yes, another prepubescent boy to keep me company.” you cheered sarcastically.

“we’re not prepubescent.” jisung folded his arms across his chest.

you finally looked down at him, leaning your head down a bit. “you sure about that?”

“a hundred percent sure.”

“is there some unknown tension i don’t know about?” seungmin butted in, furrowing his eyebrows as he seemingly tried to connect the dots. “i feel kinda weird just sitting here.”

“nothing new from the usual.” jisung muttered to him.

seungmin shrugged. “fair enough.”

the doorbell rang, followed by continuous knocking.

you snorted at that. “must be felix.”

“already?” seungmin got up from the couch once again. “it’s been just three minutes since i got the text from him.”

he opened the door to reveal not only felix- who nearly hit him in the face due to his nonstop knocking -but also hyunjin and his girlfriend.

“if you were that desperate to see me, you should’ve said!” seungmin joked, moving aside for them to walk in.

“i was desperate to stop being the third wheel with these two!” felix hurried in, throwing himself onto the recliner.

“you insisted on coming!” hyunjin exclaimed, walking in hand and hand with his girlfriend.

“yeah cause i wanted to see the new movie but i had just a half decent experience.” felix turned his attention towards you and jisung. “movie was a solid nine out of ten. the people who accompanied me? a solid negative two out of ten. they kept hogging the popcorn and holding hands. almost puked at the sight like three times.”

“dude!”

“oh, my bad.” felix apologized, a look of realization plastered on his face. “no offense to you, bri.”

“none taken.” the girl told him with a wave of her hand as she and hyunjin took a seat on the couch set across from the one you and jisung sat on.

“i don’t know if i feel more sorry for you two having to deal with him.” seungmin said to hyunjin and bri as he gestured towards felix. he took a seat beside jisung, “or if i’m still mourning my afternoon with dumb and dumber.”

“i’m dumb and she’s dumber right?” jisung lifted his head slightly.

“if anyone’s dumber, it’s you.” you shoved his head back down, causing him stick his tongue out at you in a childish manner.

“as you can see, i’m more than glad that you three showed up.” seungmin sent a nod of gratitude towards the couple.

“i’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” bri tried to reason, her head leaned against hyunjin’s shoulder.

“you guys had to deal with one idiot. i had to deal with two!” seungmin held up two fingers for emphasis. “these two specifically!”

“i’m feeling a little offended right now.” you said placing a hand over your heart.

“so am i.” jisung huffed, a childish pout present on his face.

“you two are only annoying when you argue so um, here’s a suggestion: don’t argue.” seungmin finished off.

the doorbell then rang throughout the house before the slightly uncomfortable silence could settle.

“it’s probably our takeout.” seungmin stood up from his spot on the couch again.

“you ordered takeout for me?” felix smiled warmly, waving a hand dismissively. “mate, you shouldn’t have,” felix insisted, accent heavy at the name.

seungmin snorted, “yeah, i really shouldn’t have and i didn’t.”

you and jisung both tried to keep your laughter down as felix’s mouth hung open in shock while seungmin paid for the food.

“you just broke my heart in two, seungmin.” felix dragged a finger down his cheek as if to represent a tear.

“i didn’t do that.” seungmin stated matter of factly as he shut the door with the takeout in his hand. “you did that to yourself, lix.”

“yeah, this is for us.” jisung gestured to himself and you. “we earned it.”

felix squinted his eyes at the two of you. “and how did you guys earn it?”

seungmin placed the takeout on the coffee table. “they kept arguing so i threatened them with no food.”

jisung finally lifted his head off from your lap, but only because he was eager to eat. he sat himself at the coffee table and hurriedly took out his usual order.

“ah, so this was more of a way to shut them up?” felix questioned, raising an eyebrow.

you joined jisung at the small table, sending a glare towards felix. “we’re right here, you know?”

“yeah!” jisung exclaimed through the food already stuffed in his mouth.

you looked at jisung for a bit, a realization forming in your head as you looked at his cheeks. “dude,” you started to say, causing him to look up and stop mid-chew, “you literally look like a squirrel right now.”

“not you too.” jisung groaned and rolled his eyes at your statement while everyone else laughed.

“well, you do!” you couldn’t stop yourself from poking one of his cheeks. “you’re storing hella food in there.”

“he hates it when we mention that.” seungmin said in between laughs.

“he hates it even more when you touch his cheeks, so it’s surprising he hasn’t literally killed you yet.” felix pointed out, muttering out the last part.

jisung finished chewing and swallowed his food, making a noticeable pout appear on his face. “it’s the first time i’m hearing her say it, so i’m letting it slide just this once.”

“aw, how sweet of you!” you teased, reaching out to squish his cheeks.

jisung made sure to over exaggerate the irritation on his face, but didn’t make a move to take your hands off his cheeks.

bri giggled at the sight, “i think he’s finally warming up to you.”

you suddenly realized what you were doing and stopped. “don’t be silly.” you quickly took your hands off his face and proceeded to get your food.

“he almost beat me up once because i stretched his cheeks out.” hyunjin said to you, leaning forward as he lowered his voice. “shit almost got ugly, but chan stopped him.”

jisung threw a wadded up napkin at hyunjin’s head. “you’re a loud whisperer.”

“and you were bold for a kid who looked like a minecraft fanatic.”

“i thought you let that go!” jisung looked about ready to jump over the table and strangle hyunjin.

“woah, hyunjin and jisung had some kind of feud going on before?” felix looked genuinely intrigued to the news.

seungmin nodded his head, “you used to be able to feel the passive aggressive in their conversations.”

“past is the past.” jisung had continued eating by then, and to say you were now slightly distracted by your new discovery about his cheeks was an understatement. “that was just us going through our awkward preteen phase.”

seungmin didn’t even try to stop himself from laughing. “yeah, blame it on your weird hormones.”

“is this attack jisung hour? is that what this is?” jisung shoved more food into his mouth, angrily chewing at this point.

“we can change it to attack y/n hours if that’ll make you feel better.” hyunjin offered.

you were in the midst of putting food into your mouth before hearing what hyunjin had said. “i don’t agree to this at all.”

“i do!” jisung propped his elbow on the table and rested his head on the palm of his hand. “go on.”

“you have no say in this.” you told jisung.

the boy scoffed, “and why not?”

“you know why!”

“i apologized for puking on you!” jisung turned to hyunjin. “tell me why y/n holds grudges for this long.”

“she doesn’t.” hyunjin shrugged nonchalantly. “she’s been over it for a long while.”

“wait what?” jisung genuinely looked bewildered.

“you know what? maybe i will walk home.” you concluded, beginning to stand up.

“oh no you don’t.” jisung tugged on your hand, making you sit back down.

“yo, seungmin, do you have any popcorn?” felix whispered quite loudly. “this is getting good.”

you awkwardly laughed at that, trying to lessen the tension. “sorry to break it to you felix, but show is over.” you made a move to stand up again, but jisung motioned for you to stay.

“we can drop it if you want, but don’t leave.”

“didn’t you suggest i walk home earlier?” you raised an eyebrow.

jisung sighed. “well yeah, but i take it back.”

you let out a slightly bitter laugh. “you take it back?”

jisung was silent for a bit. “uh yeah?”

you stood up once again. “i think i’ll start heading home now. i’m sure my mom will be home by the time i get there.”

“you haven’t finished your takeout.” jisung pointed at your food.

“i’ll just take it home.” you quickly put it up, ready to bolt out any second now.

jisung started to put what he had left over up. “then i’ll walk you home.”

“you really don’t have to.” you headed to the door, but jisung was following close behind.

“i’m going to regardless of what you say.” jisung was determined as always.

“uh, i think even the couple feels like they’re third wheeling now.” seungmin spoke up.

felix nodded exaggeratedly. “i came here to escape being a third wheel only to feel like a third wheel again.”

“sorry to make things, uh awkward i’ll be heading home.” you waved a small goodbye before opening the door and heading out.

“be back in a bit seungmin.” jisung reassured his friend and walked out, closing the door behind him.

the walk started out with a slightly awkward silence. neither of you said a word to each other until you stumbled over the uneven sidewalk.

jisung let out a small chuckle, but placed a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “careful.”

“i’m good.” you mumbled, falling into a steady walk again.

“are you?” the way jisung had asked implied something other than your trip up.

you shook your head. “not really.”

“will you actually tell me what’s up now?” his voice was hopeful, yet hesitant.

“i thought everything was pretty self spoken.” you paused for a little while before continuing. “i was mad about the whole puking thing, thought it’d be logical to poke a few buttons while my anger went down. i wasn’t gonna make it a lifetime thing, but it just kinda turned out that way.”

“i do take some of the blame for that.” jisung admitted, glancing your way for a split second before turning his gaze back to the ground. “i let it get to me and pretty much said, fuck it, two can play this game.”

he was right. you both fed the fire and kept it going. though, you still knew that you had started it.

you groaned loudly. “i was being petty for no reason. things just didn’t work out that night and i took it out on you.”

“i mean, i did puke on you, which again! i’m so sorry about.” you could see the pout on his face. “i have chan make sure i don’t drink more than three or four cups when we’re at a party ever since then.”

you shook your head, tired of making jisung seem like the only bad guy. “no, no. it’s fine! it really is, i know you didn’t mean to. i just let my stupid crush get to me.”

jisung stopped walking. “stupid crush?”

“shit.” you cursed as you came to a stop yourself. “i used to have a crush on hyunjin way back. i’m over it now so please don’t bring it up, there’s literally no need.”

jisung let realization settle in. “oh.” and then he let it settle in a bit more. “oh. you were hanging out with him that night and i just- oh fuck. i don’t know how many times i have to say i’m sorry.”

you turned to look at jisung. “you don’t have to say you’re sorry anymore. you’ve said it so many times at this point, it’s okay. i’ve forgiven you. it’s fine.”

he still looked saddened by what you’d just told him. “are you sure?”

“yes i’m sure.” you patted his cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding your takeout. “now get rid of the long face, sweet cheeks.”

he rolled his eyes, but laughed at your use of nickname. “sweet cheeks?”

“it made the mood better didn’t it?” you started walking again with jisung right beside you. “besides, the name suits you.”

“i do like it more than dipshit.” he referred to the name you had used earlier. “does a new name mean a new start?”

you felt at peace while around the boy for the first time. “if you’re alright with that then yes. i’d like a new start.”

“then consider tonight a new start, hoodie stealer.”

you gasped. “so you do remember!”

“well duh! that was my favorite hoodie you know? i let you borrow my favorite hoodie just to never get it back.” he waved his arms around as he spoke.

you laughed. “i’m glad that you’ve acknowledged you’re not getting it back.”

jisung let his mouth drop. “that’s not what i meant!”

“whatever you say, sweet cheeks.”

#han jisung #stray kids han #stray kids han jisung #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #stray kids imagines #imagine #lee felix #stray kids #bang chan #kim woojin #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #han jisung imagine

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rulesofthebeneath · 5 years

Text

crazy about you (ajay x f!mc)

<AN> Hi, it’s midnight and I have no idea what the genuine fuck this is. I was trying to write something about how they like, officially became boyfriend and girlfriend. Or something like that. This is like, an entire THING. Tagging my crew: @lorosette (you literally inspired this), @lilmissperfectlyimperfect (get me with those ideas!!!), @pixelburied, @witchiegirl, @anlashokk, @directorajay, @itsbrindleybinch. Thanks for reading!!! Let me know what you think uhhhh okay here we go. </AN>

“No, James! And stop asking. We haven’t had that conversation yet, we will when we’re ready to.”

Grace sighed into her hands, raised up to her face as she deflected her brother’s endless barrage of questions. How was she supposed to answer that question about how she and Ajay were doing when they hadn’t even defined the relationship yet? Honestly, she was a little worried about how obsessed her twin brother was with this- though she knew he probably just wanted the best for her. She wished he’d shut up, though.

As for the relationship- well. Grace kept telling herself she couldn’t ask for anything more than she already had- a flirty text message exchange, daily kisses on the cheek and the warmth of his hand in hers. And it was great, but… well.

If Grace was being completely honest with herself, she knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted a boyfriend- more specifically, she wanted him as her boyfriend. She wanted to keep the hand holding and the shy kisses and the texts from when he couldn’t sleep that made her smile when she read them first thing in the morning. But she also wanted the dates, the flowers, the stealing-his-sweaters, the “This is my girlfriend,” when she met his parents, everything that came with that.

And every time he smiled at her, every time he wrapped an arm around her shoulder or sent her a “thinking of you” out of nowhere, her heart ached for more. She kept telling herself it was stupid and shallow to want to put a label on their newfound relationship. That there was no way he’d feel the same, that he’d just want to keep it casual. Every time she picked up her phone to text him about it or opened her mouth to talk to him about it, those thoughts echoed through her mind until she went mute with the anxiety. It was too difficult.

But Grace had never been one to back down from a challenge, especially not one two months in the making. As the ache in her heart grew stronger, so did her will. She just needed something to kickstart it, a catalyst to startle her into action-

Her phone started ringing. It was him, his name on the screen and that picture of them that Cameron had taken at the art gallery. She stared at it for a few seconds before snapping back to reality when James pushed her shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” he asked, a teasing smile on his face.

“Shut up!” she hissed, then pressed the ‘Accept’ button just in time. She pressed the phone to her ear and sprinted down the hall to the back porch, desperate to be out of James’ earshot.

“Ajay, hi,” she said into the phone, slightly out of breath.

“Hi, Grace” came the voice on the other end. “Were you… in the middle of something?”

Grace laughed. “Just running from my twin. What’s up?”

“I, well…” he hesitated. “Do you want to come somewhere with me? Tonight?”

Grace’s heart jumped into her throat.

“I, uh… you’ll have to be more specific. Where’s somewhere, and when’s tonight?”

“Well, somewhere is the park, and tonight would be around six. I can pick you up, we can get dinner and check out the park. They’re doing an art installation, something with lights? I thought you might like it.”

Grace’s mind raced with the possibilities, and as her train of thought went on the smile on her face grew bigger. This could be it! she thought. The perfect opening to defining the relationship.

Over the phone, she quickly agreed and they arranged what time he’d come to pick her up and what time she’d be back by. Rushing back into the kitchen, she ran the event by her parents who quickly agreed, noting the broad smile on her face.

Not to be excluded, James followed her up to her room and leaned on the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest as she dug through her closet looking for something to where.

“So”, James started, smirking. “Did he finally ask you out?”

“I think so!”

James was slightly taken aback. “Wait, really? I was just saying that to tease you but… oh my gosh, that’s great!”

Grace took a shaky breath in. “I mean, I don’t know, but it’s definitely an in to try and ask him about what we are. I’m nervous. But excited! But really, really nervous…”

James grinned at her. “Chill, it’s fine. He literally already likes you. He’s probably just as nervous about it as you are.”

“Doubtful,” Grace joked, running a hand through her hair and starting a braid across her crown. “But… maybe! I don’t know, I’m feeling pretty optimistic.”

“Good. Well, be prepared for me to give you the third degree when you get back like you do whenever I go out with Erin.”

Grace blushed. “Go away, James. I have to get ready.”

“For your daaaaaaaaate,” she could hear him teasing from the hall as he walked away.

“Yeah, for my date,” she whispered to herself, smiling into the mirror.

***

At six precisely, Grace heard the doorbell ring while she put the finishing touches on her outfit. The gave herself a once-over in the mirror and nodded in approval while smoothing down her skirt. She heard the door open and James’ voice coming from downstairs, a sly tone.

Crap.

She ran down the stairs, shoving James out of the way on her way to greet Ajay. He stood in the doorway, hands shoved in his jeans pockets with a soft blush on his face. He visibly brightened when he saw her, pulling her into a quick hug.

“Grace. You look beautiful.”

The familiar ache rushed through her. She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened slightly and a breath hitched in his throat. When she pulled back, he smiled gently at her. He looked for a moment as if he’d lean forward, but then his gaze shifted behind her to where James leaned against the wall, a satisfied smirk on his face.

The moment broken, Grace stepped back and sighed.

“Ready to go?” he asked her.

“Yep!” He took her hand and led her out towards his car.

***

A short drive later, they arrived at the park. Popping the trunk, Ajay handed the picnic basket to Grace and hoisted two chairs over his shoulder. He slammed the hatch closed with his free hand, then turned around to offer Grace a sunny smile. She grinned back, addicted to his happiness, drawn in by his affection. It was always like this. It was good like this.

But today, it was going to change. It was going to be great and perfect and wonderful. Grace told herself she had to believe that, or she’d never go through with what she had planned. She sucked in a deep breath of the cold evening air, then turned to follow Ajay as he walked toward an open space in the field.

There was a clearing about halfway down where the light installation was nestled. Ajay set up the chairs a bit back, still facing the display but at an angle. “It’s beautiful,” Grace said. “Do you know what it’s supposed to mean?”

“Honestly, I’m no artist. Not visual art, anyway. I think they’re just… there. To look beautiful. To be admired, to inspire.”

“Dude, that was deep.”

The two stared at the lights for a second before bursting out into laughter. Ajay shook his head and, still laughing lightly, moved to set up the chairs. Grace spread out the picnic blanket and opened the basket to set up their feast.

She smiled fondly when she saw the packages of rainbow goldfish that he’d included, alongside two water bottles and a vegetable plate. The last thing she dug out was a piece of naan.

“So, tell me, why are we having a picnic at 6:30? Not that I’m complaining, but isn’t a picnic usually more of a lunchtime activity?”

Ajay flushed the slightest bit but recovered quickly.

“It just seemed cool. Like something you’d like. And… if I’m being totally honest with myself, I wanted to spend time with you.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did, Grace. I always want to spend time with you.”

She finally looked directly into his eyes and was surprised by the vulnerability that she found there.

This is it.

“If you do, then… I-” Grace cut herself off prematurely, the sighed. “I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Shoot,” he replied, moving from the chair to the blanket and taking her hand into his. His brow was furrowed slightly, and he was too close for Grace to be able to breathe.

“I… what are we, Ajay?” she finally said, the dam breaking and every raw word coming out, regardless of how much she might’ve practiced this. “What are we doing?”

Ajay’s mouth opened slightly in shock.

“I… don’t know. I don’t know, Grace.”

He was at a loss for words, a state in which she’d never seen him. She squeezed his hand tighter.

“Ajay, if you’d like… I want to be your girlfriend.”

Out in the emptiness of the space between them, her words hung still, each of them absorbing their meaning. Grace quashed down the impulse to take the words back out of that space, to negate them, to take them away and run away as fast as she could. Instead, she just let herself be. Vulnerable, the way the look in his eyes had been. Brave, the only way she seemed to be around him.

She watched as the emotions flew across his face, settling on something whole and pure- a feeling she couldn’t quite recognize by sight, but the expression one she had come to known as hers, as the one he always wore when he looked at her. It was the one that had graced his features as she walked down the stairs, it was the one on his face after they had kissed in his car after the cast party. It was affection, it was honesty, and it was a little bit of something more that she couldn’t quite place.

Almost robotically, he moved his other hand, lacing his fingers with her free hand.

“Grace…” he almost whispered. “I’d love nothing more than to have you as my girlfriend. I was so afraid to ask. But it turns out we both wanted the same thing.”

“Oh, thank god,” Grace whispered up to the sky, almost reverently. “That was my whole heart that I just gave to you right there,” she joked.

“I’d say the same, but in truth, you already stole my heart a long time ago.” Ajay reached up to cup her cheek. “Grace, can I kiss you?”

In answer, she leaned forward into his embrace, hands braced on his chest and touched their lips together. Ajay’s hands ran through her hair and down her back, pulling her closer until she was nearly in his lap.

She had to break away quickly when she lost her balance, falling laughing onto the blanket and rolling onto her side to tug him down there with her. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, then leaned in to kiss her again. He pulled her closer by the shoulders and by the waist, wrapping his arms around her as if he couldn’t get her quite close enough.

When she broke away for the second time, she rested her forehead against his. His smile was so close and so huge that it was blinding, and Grace found herself mesmerized.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, moving to press the third kiss to her forehead. “I’m so happy right now, I literally don’t have the words for it.”

“Same here. You know, Ajay, you never should’ve doubted that I had feelings for you. I’m not good at hiding them, like, at all.”

He shook his head slightly. “No, I shouldn’t have. But you shouldn’t have doubted me, either. Don’t you realize I’m crazy about you?”

“I’m crazy about you, too.”

#hi what the genuine literal actual fuck is this???#thanks lol #ajay x mc #hss: ca #hss ajay #hssca #hssca ajay #long fic #long post #AAAAAAAAAAA #my fanfic #oneshots

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queer-theatre-ace · 5 years

Text

Daily Reminders of Love Pt. 2

Main Character(s)/Ship: Elmer/Relmer

Era: Cannon Era | Modern Era

Theme(s):Honestly? My literature teacher would be so mad cause I can’t think of even one theme. (love is NOT a theme!)

AUs: N/A

Word Count: 1446

Part one here

Elmer continued to ignore the texts that were flooding his phone. The time was 9:15 and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to send a reminder. He hadn’t left bed all day. There was a knock on his bedroom door. Elmer didn’t answer.

“Elm?” His older sister, Elista’s, voice called softly. She opened the door. “I brought you dinner.” She made her way over to Elmer’s bedside. Elmer heard her set a plate on his desk. “Did you not tell us about a girl or something.”

At that comment, Elmer finally rolled over to face her. “What?” His voice cracked.

Elista rolled her eyes at him. “You seem heartbroken. Literally everyone’s home for dinner and you wouldn’t even come greet Ellie or Eemett. And we all know they’re your favorite siblings.”

Elmer just felt his stomach sink more. What if he’d hurt Eleanor and Mett’s feelings. He just hadn’t had the energy to get up. “It’s not a girl, Lista.”

Elista scoffed. “It has to be, Elm.”

Elmer pulled his blanket tighter around him. “I meant it’s not heartbreak.”

“Keep telling us that, bud.” Elista commented. “At least eat, okay?”

Elmer just nodded and watched Elista leave the room. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes later that Emma came in.

Emma always walked with such a confident flair. Elista had said Ellie and Mett were his favorite siblings, but, that was a lie. Emma was his favorite. He just never knew how to show that to her.

“Lista said something, didn’t she?” Emma asked, pulling out his desk chair and collapsing into it. Elmer nodded. “She’s out there saying it must be a girl. It doesn’t have to be a girl to be heartbreak. Damn, sometimes I wonder how Mom raised all of us and only a few of us have common sense.” Emma grinned at Elmer.

Elmer sat up. “What do you mean, Em?”

Emma laughs, “I mean the fact that Lista, Ezra, and Elizabeth are so hateful, that Ellie, Mett, and Eadaline are at least supportive, and that Ezekiel and I are on the LGBTQ+ spectrum. Elmer, I bet it’s hard because you’ve only ever really got Elista around. Which sucks cause I live at home but I sleep all day and work all night so I couldn’t talk to you about any of this. But whether this is heartbreak, just not from a girl, or something else. I want you to know you’re not alone.”

The blanket dropped from Elmer’s shoulders. “Really,” He whispered. “Em? Really?”

Emma placed a hand on Elmer’s shoulder. “Really. I’m Aro-Ace, so I can’t exactly help with what you might be going through, because I don’t necessarily understand it. But I’m willing to listen and try to give advice.”

Elmer flung his arms around Emma’s neck. Emma hugged him back.

“I’d stay and talk, but I’ve got work tonight, Elm. I’m sorry.” Emma pulled away from the hug. She picked up Elmer’s phone, (That had continued to explode with notifications while the two were talking,) and handed it to him. “Maybe you should see who’s worried about you?”

“Y-yeah. Maybe I should.” Elmer glanced down at his phone, the screen lit up as another text came through. He looked back up at Emma. “I love you, Em.”

Emma gave him a lopsided grin. “I know you do. I’m obviously your best sibling. Now go- be gay, do crimes.” She saluted and walked out of his room, closing the door behind her.

Elmer looked back down at his phone. It lit up again and he scrolled through his notifications. Most of them were from Race. Surprisingly.

‘Hey,’ Elmer sends the text to Race before going back to read everything Race sent. Before he could even start, his phone started ringing. Race was calling him. Race never called people.

Elmer answered the phone, “Race-”

“Oh my god, Elmie, I was terrified! Don’t do that!” Race said in a rush, trying to sound angry but Elmer heard the sigh of relief.

“Do what?” Elmer asked, genuinely confused.

The thud was muted but Elmer assumed Race kicked his bedpost. The way he did when he was annoyed, hurt, or scared. “Scare me! I thought- I thought- Elmie you scared me okay!”

“But, I haven’t talked to you all day?” “Exactly! Damnit Elmie even when we don’t talk you always send a reminder before nine. You send it earlier in the day if you know you’ll be busy that night! And I didn’t get one! I didn’t. . .I didn’t get one. And I was worried something happened to you.” Race is silent for a moment and Elmer heard the muffled sound of Race collapsing onto his bed. “God, Elmie.”

Elmer felt the pit in his stomach sink again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Wait, no- damnit. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad Elmie.” Race sighs again and Elmer can almost imagine him running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You’re okay right?”

Elmer heard a door slam closed over the phone. He sound of muffled traffic. “I mean, I guess?” Elmer paused. “No. No not really.”

“You need to talk about it?”

Elmer shook his head, an automatic reaction, “No. I mean. I don’t know.”

“Well then, I’m gonna distract you for now. M’kay?”

“Okay.”

“So Tommy- shit I don’t know what today is for ‘em. We’ll go with Tommy then. So Tommy is hosting a table at pride this upcoming week. A bunch of us are planning on going. I don’t think anyone’s brought it up to you cause we don’t know where ya stand because you always get quiet when we talk about stuff like that. But you’re welcome to come. Even if you’re just an ally-”

“I’m Pan, Race.”

The other end of the phone is silent. Elmer worries he’s scared Race away.

“Really?” Race asks in a whisper.

“Yeah.” Elmer answers.

“Even with everything Elista says?”

“Just because she’s my sister, it doesn't mean I wouldn’t have common sense even if I was straight.” Elmer blurts, somewhat quoting Emma.

“Yeah, yeah, I mean- of course that makes sense.” Race stammers out. “Hey- Medda’s calling me. Can I put you on hold for a second.”

“Sure.” Elmer whispers. He sets his phone down, putting it on speaker. He grabs the plate of dinner Elista brought in and manages to eat some.

“Hey- I’m back.” Race says breathlessly,a few minutes later, almost a little like he’s holding back tears.

Elmer quickly put his phone back to his ear. “Hey.” He says.

“Are you busy?”

“Well- I’m supposed to be but I wanna get out.”

Elmer hears the doorbell ring.

“You want a milkshake or hot chocolate from the diner?”

“Milkshakes are nice.”

He hears Zek yell, “I’ve got it!”

“I’ll buy you one.”

“Really?” “Elmer! It’s for you!” Ezekiel calls back.

“Really.” Elmer hears race say through the phone and he almost believes from the front door.

Elmer rounds the corner and the phone beeps, signaling it was hung up. He can’t be made though- Race is standing in the doorway.

“Congrats. You made him get out of bed, AND smile.” Zek comments.

Race laughs. “I heard my friend wasn’t feeling great, we couldn’t have our resident sunshine boy feeling sad and not having anyone to help him.”

Elmer’s heart skips a beat. “Race-”

“Now, I owe Elmer a milkshake at the diner. So, he’s getting that milkshake to feel better.”

Elmer hadn’t even realized he was walking closer to the door until Race grabs his hand. “Sorry, I’m stealing him for this.”

“As long as he’s smiling,” Ezekiel laughs, “See you later, Elm.” His older brother practically pushes him out the door and closes it before Elmer can protest.

Then, they’re sitting in the diner. Race with his fries and Elmer with his favorite chocolate milkshake.

Race leans forward and dips a fry in Elmer’s shake. “I broke up with Albert.”

Elmer looks at him, wide-eyed.

“We both kinda jumped into it.” Race says, “We realized we just didn’t like one another that way. We’re best friends. Plus, I found out I might have a shot with the guy I’ve been crushing on for forever.” He’s looking right at Elmer as he says all this. Elmer thinks his heart has stopped.

“Really?” Elmer whispers.

“Really.” Race says reaching for Elmer’’s hand.

Elmer lets him take it. “Daily reminder I love you,” he whispers.

“Daily reminder I love you too, Elmie.”

Tags (Ask if you want to be added)

@auspicioustarantula

#newsies #relmer #fluff #love #daily reminders of love #racetrack higgins #elmer kasprzak #race newsies #elmer newsies

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wroteasongabouther · 6 years

Text

fratboy!harry - part 4

thank you all so freaking much for the feedback/love on fratboy!harry so far it’s really sweet... again, feel free to drop any questions, blurb ideas, etc into my ask box whenever!!!

fratboy!harry tag >> story page

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you say while watching James lean over and delete a few things from your notes. Of course you had gotten some things mixed up during a lecture earlier this week.

“To be honest, I didn’t quite get it at first either,” James states.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you say while tilting your chin up and pouting out your bottom lip.

“Maybe,” James admits, giving you that nice toothy grin again - but it was nothing like a pair of dimples. You shake your head slightly as you catch yourself comparing James to Harry.

Last night after you ate some good old ramen noodles and got set up at your desk, you nearly finished your whole assignment. Just leaving it to be revised by James today after class. As you were finishing up your work - around midnight - was when Harry texted you. Red flag for inappropriate time, anything after ten could pretty much be classified as a booty call - it was simple college logic. But nothing about Harry’s texts were really booty call related.

Sorry about the guys today, hope you got your assignment done without my smarts

It’s alright, my butt hurt from the couch by then anyways.. and I managed just fine, shocking I know

Sure you got quite the brain in ya, little bird, was only joking

Oh I know.. it’s late, I’m going to go to sleep now I think

Alright, goodnight y/n

Night H

Then you slept soundly, your dreams consumed by green eyes and strange tattoos. But now you weren’t looking into the eyes you dreamt of, instead you’re looking at James’ boring brown ones as he tried to flirt with you - again. He didn’t seem to get that you weren’t interested. James was still a nice guy though, so you kept smiling at his flirtatious comments and tried to get your work done.

“That’s it,” you smile while typing out the last bit of your assignment, “all done,” your smile turned to a grin as you realize you had managed to finish an entire assignment within like 12 hours.

“You’re doing a lot better then you give yourself credit for,” James says while gathering his own notes up from the messy table you two had taken over at a diner on campus.

“Well, you were helpful too,” you inject. James grins again, and just then you glance over his shoulder and see one of your good friends walking towards you - Thomas. Everything about his facial expression spoke clear of jealousy as he saw you sitting with another guy.

“Hey,” Thomas says as he stands beside the table.

“Hey what’s up?” You smile.

“Nothing really,” Thomas shrugs before tossing his backpack at the floor and sitting down beside you. You’re a little thrown off by him welcoming himself to sit, and when you look at James you see he is too. “Who’s this?” Thomas asks, picking up one of your left over fries and popping it into his mouth.

“James,” he introduces himself as you just look at your friend in utter shock. But more of a eyes narrowed and lips firm while staring at him.

“Oh, so not Harry,” Thomas chews with his mouth open while mentioning the other boy he was jealous over. Good old Thomas.

“Harry?” James questions, looking at you now.

“A friend,” you answer shortly and bring the straw of your coke to your lips.

“Anyways,” James clears his throat, “I was going to mention, there’s this party this weekend and I was wondering if you wanted to come-“

“Y/N doesn’t really party,” Thomas states, cutting James off nonchalantly. You roll your eyes and give Thomas a quick ‘thats enough’ look.

“I do,” you clarify, “sometimes,”

“Alright,” James trails off, looking between you and Thomas - clear just as confused you were. “Well, I’ll text you about it, it’s tomorrow so hopefully you can make it,” James smiles while standing from the table.

“Okay,” you nod, “thanks again for your help, and for lunch too,”

James grins before saying his goodbyes and walking out of the diner. The moment he’s out the front door you turn and smack Thomas on the arm. He flinched and gasps dramatically. You hit him again for good measure.

“What the hell?” Thomas exclaims.

“What was that about? It’s not like that with James,” you state.

“Oh whatever, the guy’s totally into you,”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not into him,”

“So are you gunna go to that party?” Thomas questions, stealing another fry off your plate.

You shrug, “I don’t know, maybe,”

“Right,” Thomas mutters before finishing off the plate. He brushes off his hands and stands up from the table you had been at for quite a while now. “Wanna go look around the shops or something? I’m bored,”

“Fine,” you sigh and stand from the table as well. After getting all your things together, you follow Thomas out of the diner and out into the sunshine. “I swear it keeps getting hotter here,” you groan.

“It’s Arizona, what did you expect?” Thomas chuckles.

You bump into Thomas, causing him to nearly loosing his footing and fall on the sidewalk. Now that was funny, you laugh so hard you have to grab you stomach. Thomas had been a clumsy guy since you first met him here a college, literally tripping over some wires from a projector and dropping his things in front of the whole class. Then he took the seat next to you, and a friendship began. A year later and Thomas still was a good friend to you.

Thomas and you ended up inside the vintage shop. There was a mess of pretty much anything you could want. From old vinyls to shirts or even some old nick-nacks. You were laughing as Thomas held up a vinyl for Madonna, singing in a high pitched voice. Again you had to hold your stomach as he made you laugh so much.

“Thomas, stop,” you say between your laughter. He keeps on acting out as Madonna, so you step forward and take the vinyl from him, leaning into his body while you both laughed.

Thomas quits laughing as he looks over you, eyebrows pulled together at something. Or someone it seemed. You turn around and see Harry standing there with a brown paper bag in hand and a similar face that Thomas had. What were the odds…

“Harry, hey,” you breathe out while stepping away from Thomas.

His eyes stay glued to Thomas while you take in his appearance today. Same black jeans, a pair of brown boots and a grey tshirt. Not that it was any shock, but he looked hot.

“Hey,” he nods.

“Whatcha doing here?” You ask, genuinely intrigued for an answer.

“Just picked something up,” he responds while lifting up the paper bag. It must’ve been for someone else, cause you really couldn’t imagine Harry geeking out over this old vintage stuff. You notice his eyes are back on Thomas, narrowed for a second before his expression turns smug.

“Uh, Thomas this is Harry, Harry this is Thomas,” you introduce the two ridiculous young men.

“Nice to put a face to a voice,” Harry says, still as smug as ever.

“Yeah,” Thomas narrows his eyes.

“Anyways,” you draw out and put the Madonna album back down.

“I have to get going, I’ll see you ‘round,” Harry blurts out before turning away and walking right out the front door. You stand there a bit surprised, staring out the window as you watched him get into his car. What was up with him?

Thomas sighs and leans back against the wooden table the vinyls were stored in. You already know he has a million things to say. So you roll your eyes and look towards him.

“Didn’t think I’d be meeting both the boys in your life today,” Thomas says.

“Oh shut it,” you nudge him gently before looking through the vinyls again.

You didn’t correct him. Because it was the first week of your second year in college and somehow you had two boys you were thinking of already. One was smiley and kind while the other was smug and had your head spinning a million miles an hour. Last week you were ignoring boys existence and babbling on about how boys suck - this week you were more confused than ever.

“I think I’m going to buy that old Harley Davidson shirt back there,” you state, changing the topic while walking over where it hang.

Once you’ve paid, you and Thomas leave the shop. You convince him to stop for a smoothie before asking what he wanted to do next. Movies at your dorm ended up being the plan, only because Thomas offered to order pizza. So you two pick up the pizza and get to your dorm.

Thomas launches himself onto your double bed, taking up one side while you grab your laptop and set down the pizza between you two. As some new Netflix show plays on your small MacBook screen you really realize how much you needed a tv in here. You’re munching on your second piece as your phone vibrates.

“Five bucks it’s Harry,” Thomas says before you pick up your phone. You roll your eyes at him and grab your phone.

“It’s James,” you state while having another bite of pizza.

“Ah shit, it was a 50/50 chance,” Thomas gives you a smirk while you narrow your eyes at him.

Hey, what’s up?

Hey! Just watching some Netflix wbu??

Bored, just making some dinner

Yum, whatcha making??

Pasta, it’s bulking season

You have to hold back from making a face. But as Thomas snorts beside you, you know you failed on doing so. You try to ignore how stupid James sounded and read his next text.

Think about that party?

Yeah, I’ll have to ask a friend if she wants to come with or not first..

Fair enough, more the merrier.

“Stop making that face,” Thomas says with food in his mouth.

“Stop talking with your mouth full,”

Thomas sticks his hands up before focusing back on the show. Your phone vibrates again in your phone, this time it’s a Snapchat notification - from Harry. Your lips tug just a little, you literally have to fight off your smile.

You open it quickly, not caring if it seemed weird, and look at the snap video he sent. It was in the kitchen of his frat house. Eddy has two cans of beer in hand, then suddenly he’s smashing one into his mouth and the crushing it in his hand as he drinks it - doing the same with the second one. There’s obviously quite a few other guys around as many guys cheer as Eddy throws down both cans and yells. Harry flips the camera and widens his eyes, you can’t help but chuckle at his expression.

You send back a selfie, brows pulled together and lips pursed out a bit. You caption it ‘what in the world?’ and add a sticker with the time on it - it was only 6:30 in the evening after all. Frat boys were weird. After you send the snap, you look up and see Thomas is watching you.

“What?” You question.

He shakes his head, “nothing, I’m not gunna say anything,” he says and looks back at the show again.

You narrow your eyes at Thomas and lean back on your headboard. Harry snaps you back a selfie, reading ‘frat things, don’t dare eddy anything he’ll do it’ you shake your head and smile. Instead of a selfie this time, you send one from the front facing camera. There’s your computer, the pizza, and Thomas’s back in the shot before you type out ‘noted, you guys are totally crazy’

Harry opened the snap. But he didn’t reply. He posted on his story ten minutes later too. You bite on your bottom lip and debate snapping him again. First his weirdness at the vintage shop and now this - damn, when did you get this desperate? You let out a small sigh and put your phone down.

“Do I need to beat anyone up?” Thomas asks, not looking away from the show as he takes another piece of pizza.

You lean forward and grab another piece as well, “no,” you mutter.

“Just,” Thomas pauses and looks back at you with a small smile, “just be careful, Y/N,”

You look at your friend and try to register what he’s saying. Thomas would always be jealous, wishing it was him you were blushing over. But you always thought he had it better than whatever guy you were talking to. He sat here in your bed, eating pizza, more often than any guy you ever spoke to before. Despite being put in the friend zone, Thomas was around a lot longer than any other guy.

You decided to just give him a smile and nod in return. Then you two go back to watching your small computer screen and eating pizza. Soon enough Jessica shows up and joins you two, wedging herself between you both. And that was how you ideally liked to spend your nights here at college, with your friends watching pointless tv and eating junk. It was a hell of a lot better than stressing over school or some stupid frat parties. Which, you’d probably be at tomorrow anyways.

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squaredancing-weston · 7 years

Text

para || Braine: A New Path, 1/04/2017

Tagging: @mr-blainderson and @squaredancing-weston

Time: Wednesday Morning, 4 January 2017

Setting: Boarding Facility (and trails), Harrod, OH

Summary: Brody and Blaine both need to get away from Lima’s crazy, so Brody takes Blaine to learn the basics of horseback riding.

Part 3

“No, I mean, I’d definitely love to make this a regular thing,” Brody corrected himself. “I mean, we could go out once or twice a week until you built up the muscles for it. Or, you know, less, obviously,” he added, uncertain how much interest straddling an animal early in the morning would hold for the other man. But it had been a nice ride so far-- quiet, easy. “I mean, Dee likes you.” Not that Delilah didn’t like just about everyone. Brody was pretty sure saving her from being steak might have caused her to have a Scrooge-like epiphany at some time before he adopted her. “Really? You’d hang out in the barn? Like working or just sitting on a bale, watching //me// work,” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Not that he would mind-- Lucy nowadays didn’t come up so much, so he was used to doing his own work, and someone to talk to besides the horses wouldn’t suck. Brody grinned, “Wow, quite the honor-- I’m excited already. Start the holiday countdown.” Brody grinned and let out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s not even just me-- Jeffy always had the lot of us around his finger, you know?” His smile was nostalgic as he thought about his family. “I don’t know why we all decided he needed protecting, but damned if we didn’t, and god help you if the three of us found someone messing with our baby brother.” Even each other, Brody knew from personal experience. The older man’s face broke into a wide grin, “Excellent-- your first job can be to help me manipulate my list into the band’s performances. I have a big one, which is rough because technically D’s in charge of the music-- I’m just Guard. But now that my //son// is here to help…” he laughed and quirked an eyebrow playfully.

He was so busy keeping his tone and demeanor light, Brody didn't even notice the change in Blaine's. Brody cleared his throat, nodding. Brody wasn’t really into discussing God in the first place beyond hypotheticals, but the phrasing Blaine had used...well, that was pretty damned heavy. His heart kind of broke for the guy if things had been that bad that //high school// had been his saving grace. “Well, then, it’s good you can give back to it-- if you want,” he finally responded. “But I mean, if you stayed-- for now at least-- I think you’re doing a lot of good here too.” The older man chuckled. “Seven years isn’t that long-- I’ve been here seven years,” he reminded Blaine. “You go, you pick up new stuff. If it’s what you want, change isn’t a bad thing, so long as the foundation’s still there.” Blaine elaborated, and Brody mentally berated himself-- of course he knew that Bas had gone to Dalton-- they’d talked about it back in December. Hell, Blaine’s name had even come up. He’d let the news catch him off guard //then// too. But he needed to up his game, if Blaine was starting to worry about Brody being so invested. “Yeah, I guess he must have mentioned it at some point,” he shrugged, “Although not foregoing his normal idiocy.” Brody pushed out a light laugh. Blaine’s question made him antsy, but he kept his face masked, only raising an eyebrow in puzzlement. “What? Yeah, we’re fine-- why?” He’d spent seven years building a life at this school-- he was not going to let one(/two) mistake(s) destroy everything. Brody let out a laugh, “Yeah-- you have no idea, SB. She’s always been our biggest fan, through the dumbest phases: I mean, how many mom’s would get behind their kid going into ballet //just// so he could be the Rat King. Like literally, that was the only thing I wanted for a while. And when Mark dropped out of college...or when Jeffy decided he’d only eat blue foods when he was five.” He shook his head in amusement. “That woman is a force to be reckoned with.”

Brody laughed, “Tell me about it,” he agreed. He certainly wasn’t going to be on any “favorite” list anytime soon. He dropped his grip on the reins, letting them fall into his lap as he rubbed his hands together with a faux evil grin. “Excellent. I’m the epitome of subtle.” Brody watched Blaine carefully put down the reins so he could clap, which was actually more adorable than the applause, although Brody’s bow was more in response to the latter. “Thank you-- one of my better ideas, definitely. I mean, you have to erase the whole thing every semester, because the point isn’t to give each other ammo or anything, but still-- it’s fun. But I’ll definitely send you the link, and if you want to send some over, I’m sure I can get one of my Aggies to read it. When it’s not //their// stuff, they’re a lot more enthusiastic about the posts.” Brody shrugged. “Yeah, I guess guns in general are a bit iffy in my book too.” His grinned wide at Blaine’s words. “Absolutely-- I’ll start asking around, get a full list of what goes into badges at our age, and we’ll make a whole thing of it. It’ll be fun.” He leaned over in his saddle to pat Blaine on the shoulder. “Well, don’t worry-- I’ve got lots of eccentric skills that all people should know. It’ll be great. I’m excited.”

“Well, I think I would love to make this a regular thing too, honestly,” he responded, gazing out once more to the openness around him. “It’s been a while since I’ve felt this relaxed. It’s definitely something I could get used to.” He chuckled, shifting his leg again. “I think once or twice a week sounds pretty reasonable. No more, no less, I think it would be fine. I think Bing would like it too, though I obviously can’t speak for him,” he teased. “Aww,” he said, patting the horse’s neck in front of him, “I like her too. She’s a sweetheart.” And he meant it. He knew that some horses sometimes didn’t take to well to first time riders, so he was relieved to have Dee as his first. He looked over at Brody, a small smirk playing at his lips. “I mean, obviously, I would help if you really needed me to, but I was mostly going to be content with watching.” He snickered a little bit before smiling genuinely. “Helping or watching, I wouldn’t mind coming and hanging out. I like it out here. It’s peaceful, and you’re a good guy to hang out with.” Blaine scoffed, carefully sliding out his phone and pulling up his countdown app, showing it to Brody. “It started the day after Christmas. I’m a bit of a holiday freak.” A smile broke onto Blaine’s face, despite his small bit of jealousy. “That’s just the way baby siblings are, right? They’re usually the smallest for the longest time at least, and they can literally do no wrong because by some point the older siblings are the ones getting into trouble. The image of innocence can go a long way.” That is one thing he could say about his family. Coop, despite his self-involved attitude and his willingness to constantly pick on his younger brother, always had his back in some sort of way at the end of the day, even if it was often misguided and not very obvious. Blaine gave his older friend a disapproving look, shaking his funk off once and for all. “If Dani’s really set in her ways with the music, I’m not going to be the one to try to step in on it. I’ve picked up that she can be slightly terrifying, and that’s not a side I ever wanna be on.”

Blaine finally noticed how heavy he had become, noticing the stiff pause in conversation. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry. I never meant to let the conversation get like that. Tell me to shut up next time, geez,” he said, trying to make light of it, but slightly failing. He had gotten lost in those thoughts, but he had come a long way from being affected by them. He had grown so much since the time of his transfer, and despite having certain triggers through the years, he had gotten himself to a place that was much more positive. He mentally kicked himself for getting that deep. He shook it off, and continued. “Yeah, I suppose your right. I don’t know, it’s just some big shoes to fill, you know? Or at least that’s how I’m building it up in my head; I should probably stop that.” He smiled in gratitude at the compliment. “Thank you for that reassurance. I like to think that I’m doing what I can to get at least some good flowing through my classes. I guess I’ll have to wait and see if that’s actually true or not.” Blaine chuckled, though it came out sounding a bit more uncomfortable that he intended. He proceeded again, still hesitate in his answer. “I just…he seems to be growing distant, withdrawing himself a little, you guys haven’t really been interacting online like you used to, every time I’ve mentioned his name today, it hitches the conversation, however briefly…” he trailed off, shrugging slightly. By no means did he want to push the man into talking to him, but he couldn’t help but be concerned. After New Year’s, it just seemed like everything that had been happening, the playful banter online between all of them, had just stopped completely. Blaine tried to hide his smile. “The Rat King, huh? Well, I guess go big or go home. Only blue foods? Did his diet consist solely of candy, or did your mom have to by copious amounts of food coloring?” he asked teasingly. “She sounds wonderful, honestly.”

He eyed his older colleague suspiciously. “Somehow I don’t believe you. Believe me when I say that if you go too far past legitimate subtlety, I may just ban you from future performances,” he said, small smile on his face to indicate his joking. He laughed. “Of course, there will be no ammo exchange. Though I do hope that your Aggies will get into it. They could do full reenactments! That’d be hilarious with some of the texts that I’ve had the, um, pleasure of reading.” He grinned, shaking his head. “Should we make this a teacher wide thing? Every Friday we could have small badge ceremonies. Though trust me, I have no qualms in having special treatment and being the only one that’s able to receive them. I’m excited too. Get cracking on your cookie making skills. Marley’s mom set a high bar.”

Brody nodded with an easy smile. “Yeah, I guess I take it for granted sometimes, but it definitely gives you a chance to just escape for a while.” Wasn’t that what he’d been doing for the past few days, after all? Just escaping from Marley and Sebastian and Lima and hiding out in the woods with a nonjudgmental horse? “That sounds good to me: we’ll figure out something that works; maybe talk to one of the other boarders about borrowing one more long-term.” He’d loaned out Dee a few times, so he figured his connections could probably work that back in his favor, hopefully. “Yeah, we’ll definitely have to see how he takes to the saddlebag, since I now have that image stuck in my head.” Brody grinned as Blaine complimented his girl. “Yeah, well, she’s good people, despite what her previous owners might have thought--I got a hell of a deal on her and she’s never given me any trouble.” Brody was still surprised that he’d gotten so lucky with the mare-- she was in great shape, and perfect for what he’d wanted. He almost felt bad paying what he had for her. Brody laughed, “Yeah, well, I can teach you to do some clean work if you want to earn your keep-- grooming and watering and the like,” he offered, “but I’ll take someone who can talk back as much as an actual laborer, to be honest.” Brody glanced down at his hands for a second even with the smile beaming across his face-- because, no, he wasn’t a good guy, but he liked that Blaine thought so. He always was happy when people thought he was good people-- Brody was a guy that thrived on validation. “Thanks man; I definitely don’t mind the company either way, so long as you don’t, you know, destroy anything or decorate the place in bowties, because that would be weird.” He chuckled playfully, but his eyes quirked up incredulously at Blaine’s phone. “Are you serious? Okay, I lied-- you’re already weird,” he joked, shaking his head with a smile. He sighed, “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, Jeffy got into the least trouble in general, so I think it wasn’t even the illusion of innocence, honestly. Probably actual innocence for the most part. Me, on the other hand...” he trailed off with a mischievous smirk and a shrug. His eyes went wide in disapproval. “What? You’re not going to help me? As your father, I’ll have you know I’m incredibly disappointed in you for not helping me manipulate your mother.” He shook his head in faux disappointment.

Brody didn’t want to make a big deal out of the situation, especially if Blaine didn’t want to get into it, so he shook his head and waved a hand dismissively, “Nah, don’t worry about it-- we’re good.” He did nod at Blaine’s reflection though. “Yeah, you’ve got to be careful about building things up on a pedestal, I’ll give you that. I mean, everything’s flawed, right? Even the best stuff. So you just go in and you remember what good it did, and help keep that part intact. But I wouldn’t worry about that, SB-- I mean, you’ve got some big feet,” he laughed. “Hey, I meant it. I think you’re doing a hell of a job here. We’re lucky to have you.” Brody kept his face neutral, maybe a little puzzled, but his stomach knotted. God he’d really done a number on everyone, hadn’t he? “I mean, I don’t know-- with the break, I’ve been pretty busy, so I mean, I just haven’t been as--” he gestured with his hands “--active, in general, I guess? And, I mean, no offense to the guy, but with Sebastian’s social life, maybe he’s not withdrawing as much as redirecting? I don’t know.” Redirecting definitely-- away from him and toward any guy at any bar. “But, I mean, I can talk to him, if you want,” he offered. “I don’t think he’d tell me if something was bothering him, but...” Except Bas had definitely already been talking about what was bothering him-- he’d made it very clear about what-- or who-- was bothering him. Brody grinned widely, “Right? Get a big paper mache head and a sword-- that was my dream when I was eight years old. I was a weird kid. Uh, blueberries, grapes, corn, potatoes-- kind of expensive habit really, when you think about it, and I’m not sure he knew the difference between blue and some shades of purple, now that I say it out loud. But yeah-- either dotted in there, like waffles, or she got creative with the food dye. I don’t think Jeffy would have been allowed to just eat candy-- even if there had been good blue candy out there. She’s pretty awesome,” he agreed.

The older man’s mouth opened in disbelief. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me, SB,” he argued, lips twitching. “How can you not trust a face like this?” he added, quirking a brow. Brody laughed, “Oh god-- that would be something. They’d probably make sock puppets or train the chicks come spring-- oh god, stop me before I end up giving them ideas…” He shook his head, “Well, it sounds like your class has much more interesting notes than mine. I get a few gems sometimes, but mostly it’s just drivel. Not that I mind-- I don’t want to make trouble, just keep their damn phones out of my class.” Brody grinned. “That sounds pretty awesome, assuming you can keep up with earning a badge every week.” He shrugged, “Cookies? That’s boring. I think we should do something more exciting, like Human Tetris Badge, or Course Crashing Badge. You know: useful skills.”

Blaine just smiled in response, agreeing with the man. He could see the appeal in escaping to a place like this, away from everything else for a while. He nodded, though feeling a little uneasy. “Sounds great, but I also understand if they say no. I mean, it’s not like they know me. And of course, if they would want to meet me or anything, that’s understandable too.” He bit his tongue to keep from rambling too much. Not only was he excited about the prospect of riding more, but the thought that one of the other boarders wouldn’t be okay with it was keeping him grounded, and the two conflicting emotions was attempting to send his mouth into a frenzy. He cracked a grin, amused by the fact that Brody seemed to be as struck by the idea of Bing riding with them as he was. “Patience, Brodes. We’ll get there at some point. Hopefully soon. I’m not sure how long he’ll stay this small.” Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s the story with her previous owners? It’s amazing to think that anyone would want to give her up in the first place.” And it was true. She was a beauty and completely sweet. It really was a wonder. Blaine chuckled and nodded. “Well, if it’s to earn my keep, then by all means.” His face split into a wide grin as he shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t mind to do the work. I’ve become a bit too content in my laziness. I would actually prefer to have something to do.” He watched as Brody beamed through his compliment, a small smile still resting on his face before clutching his chest in mock disappointment. “Oh man, I was really hoping to find a use for that bow tie wallpaper that I had.” He rolled his eyes as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, knowing that it was weird, but he couldn’t help it. He loved the holidays. Blaine smirked. “Oh, you were the troublemaker I take it?” Blaine just shrugged, a playful smile on his face. “What can I say? I tend to be more of a Momma’s boy.”

Blaine sighed and nodded with a tight smile, still feeling uncomfortable with the fact that he allowed himself to even start down that road at all. He could only be thankful that it was with someone that he trusted. He stared out into space a little as he listened to Brody. He was fully comprehending everything being said, but the after almost spilling everything, and the thought of Dalton in general kind of shook him a little bit. But, still listening completely, his head snapped over at Brody at the comment about his feet. He looked over the side of the horse and down at his feet. He scoffed, shaking his head, looking back up. “Rude,” he muttered under his breath. His face softened as Brody gave him a compliment of his own. “Thank you. I’m trying, at least, and I’m glad to hear that I may be succeeding.” He watched Brody explain his reservation over the past couple of days and sighed. He huffed out a laugh. “Redirecting is one word for it, sure.” He observed Brody and shook his head. “No…don’t worry about it. I mean, of course, if you want to, you can, but…” he trailed off, not really knowing where to go with the statement. He didn’t want to push anyone, and Brody was included in that. Blaine grinned back. “Hey, everyone has at least one dream that seems weird to everyone else.” He thought for a moment and laughed. “Like, for example, my sophomore year I was dead set determined to write a play that followed the tragic rise and fall of Britany Spears. And I wanted to play the Chris Crocker role that I wrote.” Blaine nodded, realizing the foods he had embarrassingly not thought of, though still amused and happy with the thought of a mother like that. “That does make more sense. I’ve heard of stranger things, though, so I guess it works.”

Blaine giggled. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Brodes. It’s just a soft warning, is all. I gotta keep you in line somehow,” he replied with a grin. He laughed with the older teacher and nodded. “I really don’t want to stop you though because I like these ideas.” He shrugged. “It’s mostly just your regular old teenage drama. But the things that kids are coming up with nowadays to call drama. It’s a lot more than what I dealt with in school. Though, of course if you’re not trying to cause trouble, I’ll try to keep an eye on the softer stuff.” Blaine’s eyebrows shot up. “Every week? Geez, Brodes, I’m not sure I can do that. I do still have a job and a new puppy. But I’ll do what I can.” Blaine chuckled and shook his head. “I meant more for the ceremonies. But do I want to know what you mean by Human Tetris?”

Brody scoffed at Blaine’s uncertainty, patting his mare. “No-- I mean, I doubt it would be a problem, and honestly, it’s not like //you’d// be riding her.” Brody wouldn’t want to risk someone else’s horse with an inexperienced rider, honestly-- Blaine was right about that. But that didn’t put a real damper on the idea. “I mean, you could easily stay on Dee, and they already know me, so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind the break, honestly.” Brody wasn’t usually that eager to share his horse with coworkers-- it was like letting someone borrow his truck, only much more sensitive-- but Blaine seemed to be doing pretty well, and honestly, Brody kind of missed the company since Lucy began growing up and out of her horse phase. He chuckled at Blaine’s response about Bing. “Well, if he gets too much bigger, he’s going to be relegated to running alongside instead of sitting in a saddlebag up top.” Brody smiled as he glanced over at the chestnut horse plodding along easily beneath Blaine, and shrugged his shoulders. “To be fair, I don’t really know. She’s a purebred, obviously, but I don’t know if she ever was a runner, or even intended to be. It’s possible that there was just something trivial they didn’t want to use, and she didn’t take to another spot in the program. That’s how it goes with breeding, a lot of times-- dogs too,” he nodded in considering to Bing. “If they hadn’t been able to sell her to a private owner, they probably would have cut their losses, but I mean, she was in good shape and had a soft personality, and ever since I’ve had her she’s been a cakewalk. So really I kind of feel like I might have robbed //them//.” Brody gave a full laugh at the idea of Blaine mucking out stalls, but he nodded in agreement, “Well, if you’re interested, I certainly won’t stop you from helping. If I’m picking up some slack for the both of these two, it’ll definitely be enough work to make you feel like you’re anything but lazy.” The older man clucked his tongue and tipped his head sideways, “Well, unfortunately you’ll just have to save it for another occasion I guess: maybe when you start decorating Bing’s doggie house, otherwise known as the guest cottage,” he added in amusement. His blue eyes widened in faux surprise.at the accusation, “Me? I was innocent as pure driven snow. It was all Bob’s fault if any of my actions turned out...untoward,” he smirked. “I mean, at least Mom had Mark, who had kind of a stick up his ass, even when we were kids, and Jeffy, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. I guess it’s just a debate over whether you think it’s more trouble to have a kid that purposely gets into trouble, or one who tends to be a little...short-sighted in his decision-making.” His lips twitched in guilty amusement at what he and his brothers had put his mother through growing up.

Brody cleared his throat as he bit his lip to try to stifle a laugh when his comment about Blaine’s feet caused the other man’s gaze to shift toward his feet. However, the follow-up apparently cleared things up, because Blaine’s features warmed back up quickly; and Brody nodded in welcome. “It’s a full-time gig, what we do,” he told Blaine, shifting in the saddle. “I mean, every day you’re giving them something that they could easily carry with them for the rest of their life. You’ve just got to brace yourself and do the best you can, and you’ve pretty much got that down I think.” The older teacher gave a casual smile and nodding along as Blaine reacted to his answer, apparently accepting it and not demanding the man approach Sebastian about all of this mess that he’d created. At this point, it would be better if Brody just stayed out of everyone’s way, after all. His eyebrows quirked up, laughing in amazement as Brody explained his “weird” dream from high school. “Britney Spears? Really? Is this like Mamma Mia! then, only actually following the artist in question? I mean, I think I’d understand the Rat head better...Who’s Chris Crocker?” Brody smiled happily at the memory; it had been easier then, when they were all little and looked out for each other and Brody didn’t screw everything up. “I mean, I guess-- I’m sure Mom would have preferred an easier color like green or yellow or something. I take it you didn’t have phases like that?”

“Keep //me// in line? I’m sorry-- which one of us is the father, and therefore the responsible one by default?” Brody rolled his eyes, “Be careful what you wish for Blaine-- you’ll find out really fast that I am more than capable of getting carried away with my own train of thought. My poor Stat kids probably have to deal with that the most.” Most of the grading for Stat’s class came from projects that Brody came up with, after all, rather than testing. Brody figured the AP exam was enough stress, the tests didn’t need to be another source of anxiety. “Ah, yes-- the hardships of being a teenager. How can we possibly understand the pain and suffering that they’re experiencing, Blaine? Although-- is that something you didn’t have to deal with because you went to private school, or because the times are different now?” he followed up. Brody was sure he’d had his share of high school drama, but as an adult the angst was a little ridiculous to hear about. “Eh, if you want to send it through, we can edit and/or censor where necessary. We do it anyways-- what’s one more set, right?” The teacher let out a dramatic huff, “You mean you can’t devote every spare hour of your life to building skills specifically for my amusement, Blaine? Talk about disappointing. Fine, fine-- we’ll just arrange badge ceremonies as necessary, I guess.” He quirked an eyebrow over at the other man, “Seriously? You never played Human Tetris in college? It’s this...it’s where you all pick shapes and you have two columns on the lawn and pick random numbers and try to…” He wasn’t explaining it very well, he knew. “It’s kind of like Twister, only with shapes. And copious amounts of alcohol,” he finally settled with a laugh.

Blaine nodded in understanding, feeling a little more relieved in hearing those words. “That’s fair. Not to mention that I like Dee; we’re bonding. It’d be strange to just jump on another horse after her,” he replied lightly, laughing a little. Partially because the thought of having to get used to another horse made him more nervous than he thought it ever would. He got lucky with Dee, and the uncertainty of whether or not he’d get lucky with the next horse, or even if there was anything to be nervous about drove him insane. Blaine cracked a grin and shrugged. “He has a lot of energy, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he ends up actually /wanting/ to run alongside. Then again, I’m his owner, which means he may be getting a little too pampered, so it’s all up in the air from here.” Blaine bobbed his head as he listened to Brody explain, though he had to admit that he wasn’t completely savvy of the inner workings of breeding. Though the two dogs he had in his life were either purebred or a designer breed, he didn’t really pay attention to either. He was too young to understand when his family got Lula, and Bing just happened to be incredibly cute on an online advertisement, and both had worked out incredibly well in his favor. He shrugged with a small smile on his face. “I think it’s safe to say that you probably did rob them in a way. She’s a catch, this one is.” Blaine chuckled and nodded. “I don’t mind, though I may need to invest in some work clothes now. You know, regular jeans and shirts, boots. The thought of even doing work like that in what I have on now is just horrendously terrifying,” he said, gesturing down to his admittedly still too nice button down and straight legged jeans for extra emphasis. He scoffed at the thought of a dog house with /bow tie/ wallpaper throughout. Blaine had his eccentricities, but even he knew what was going too far. He cocked an eyebrow at the older teacher. “Oh? And I take it you were the short-sighted one?” He laughed a little and shook his head. “And pray tell, what sort of things did you get in trouble for?”

Blaine smiled warmly, agreeing completely with the sentiments that Brody had just expressed. In fact, he had first hand, personal knowledge of the actual truth that was there. “You’re right, of course. And again, thank you,” he paused for a moment and continued. “And I think it’s obvious from how your kids are around you that you’re doing well, too. But, then again, you’ve been doing this a bit longer than I have,” he said playfully. He laughed, seeing the expression on Brody’s face. Nodding, he continued his explanation. “Yes and no. It is following Britney Spears and her life, and it does involve many of her actual songs, but I ended up writing a few myself. They were incredibly horrible, I realized years later, and all copies were promptly burned.” He looked at Brody curiously. “You really don’t know who Chris Crocker is? The “Leave Britney Alone” guy?” Blaine chuckled, agreeing with his friend. “Yeah, I suppose green would’ve been easier. Or brown, actually. And I did, yeah, they just took different forms,” he added with a shrug. “For example, when I was about 4 or 5, I refused to go to bed without first watching The Little Mermaid. Every night. For about five months. I don’t remember if I got tired of it or just got past the phase, but my mom, to this day, refuses to have anything to do with it.

Blaine shook his head disapprovingly. “It’s completely possible for the child to be the responsible on in the relationship sometimes, Brodes. Not that I don’t think you’re responsible, but given my age, I think it’s safe to say that we’re in more of a mutually dependent relationship where we have to keep /each other/ in line.” He stared at the older man for a minute, wondering what could possibly be a source of torture for his students before he caved. “Alright, I give; what are you doing to your poor Stat students?” It had been a long time since he had even had a math class, let alone stats. He knew that there were possibilities for creativity, but he had never thought about it himself. Blaine thought about Brody’s question before he shrugged. “I think the fact that it was an all-boys private school where the majority of the student body was in fact straight and preferred to talk to other straight guys about their relationship problems helped. They came to me for some stuff, but for the most part, they just liked to compare notes; so, yeah, I actually avoided a great deal of the drama after my transfer.” He paused, shaking his head. “But in a way, yeah, times have changed as well, you know. Even the drama I did have to deal with is nothing compared to some of the things I’ve seen here. I mean, I was already 18 when Grindr was developed; technology and the ways things can spread now has changed the face of teenage drama.” He stopped himself before he thought about it anymore because he knew that was just a whole other can of worms that he probably didn’t want to open. Blaine laughed when he heard the huff beside him. “I’m sorry, Brody. Unfortunately, I can’t entertain you all the time, as much as you know I live to please you.” Blaine pulled a sturgeon face as he shrugged. “I guess not; I’ve never even heard of it. It sounds very interesting, though. I’m sad I missed out.”

Brody grinned. “Of course you are-- who wouldn’t become instant besties with a girl like that?” He nodded along with Blaine’s thoughts about Bing. “Well, I mean, I don’t know about this one, but Delilah’s definitely easy about animals at her feet. And it’s not like there’s no such thing as a dog following on a trail ride. They just aren’t usually as...fluffy.” He laughed at the thought of the half-poodle keeping up along the path. “He might need a good hosing down on a regular basis. We could always see what happens-- personally, I’m kind of getting attached to this saddlebag idea though.” In his head the older teacher was incredibly entertained by the thought of Bing hanging out of a leather pack as the quarterhorse plodded along, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a very slow car ride. Brody beamed happily at Blaine’s reply, and nodded. “I think so too-- I mean, I really just kind of wanted a piece of home out here, you know? So I was lucky to have found her. Otherwise I might have shelled out for something crazy, like an Arabian, or a fat horse.” He laughed. “I wonder if they make work bowties? But yeah, I mean, I’ve got some spare gear you can borrow, obviously-- gloves and stuff. But you’ll probably want to get a good pair of boots if we’re going to really do this, for sure.” He glanced down at Blaine’s feet with a smirk. “I mean, it does all wash out, I promise; but you’ll probably want to be more comfortable than you are in, well, //that//.” Blaine really looked like he’d come out for a horse //buy//, rather than a horse //ride//. When the younger man called him out on his antics, Brody just grinned and shrugged. “Maybe a little-- impulse control was never really my strong suit growing up.” Not really his strong suit //now// either, but that was irrelevant to the point. “Really, just the normal stuff--girls, drag racing, sneaking out to a field for some stupidity. I was the //King// of Improv Repairs at our house, so that was kind of half-success, half-horrible, horrible failure, to be honest. But really just that sort of thing.”

Brody smiled genially, and nodded-- teaching was one of those jobs that you really did need all the support and encouragement you could get, or you could easily get lost in the hamster wheel. Ha laughed at Blaine’s response, though. “Yeah, well, trust me-- I was not the brilliant mentor you see before you today at your age. It took a while to find my stride, which was mostly getting the hell out of the books. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I actually //really// hate math.” He winked at the other. “So you can see how that could cause a little bit of a hiccup at first.” Brody arched an eyebrow, impressed. “You wrote your own songs in high school? That’s actually pretty amazing, SB. I mean, I tried my hand at simple choreography, but song writing’s a whole different animal there. I’d think anything that made sense would be a hell of an accomplishment. Although now I may abduct you and hold you hostage until you perform this show, because it sounds pretty damned awesome.” Brody laughed, and his expression shifted to one of recognition. “//That// guy? Pete, Blaine-- I didn’t realize he actually had a name. I just figured he was the ‘Leave Britney Alone’ Guy. You know, like the kid after the dentist or people in flash mobs.” He smiled and nodded along with Blaine’s addition, and then lifted his lips in a crooked smile. “Every night? Man, I’m surprised your parents didn’t realize you were gay right then,” he laughed. “Although it’s not like you were dressing up as Ariel, so maybe they just figured you were sensitive-- I’m sure mine did when I insisted on taking ballet, right?” He cocked an eyebrow. “After four months though-- are you really surprised?”

Brody scoffed. “Well that sounds just disappointing. I thought this whole //dad// thing was coming with automatic perks.” He shook his head, “What? Nothing-- really. I mean, they may have to go through weird bouts of random projects based on everything from grocery store inventory to internet ads, but I throw in some relevant stuff too. Just the other day I used one of their bio assignments to whip up a standard deviation project revolving around vowels in invertebrate terminology, so that was sort of useful, at least. Hey, at least I’m not throwing a test at them every other day right?” Brody tilted his head as he watched Blaine explain private school, and he couldn’t help but add, “Mostly straight guys in a private school? I’m sure Bas was thrilled.” He had to fight not to wince at his own stupidity- wasn’t he trying //not// to talk about Sebastian? Or think about him? He needed to work at that. “But yeah-- I mean, a lack of drama definitely has its perks. Oh god-- Grindr. Did you actually use that? I think I’d be mortified to find any of my kids were playing around with accounts like that, even if they //were// 18.” The older man huffed and shook his head. “Well damn-- maybe I should be more careful about who I decide to recruit for Scouts next time. I thought the whole point of that thing was to earn badges to make yourself interesting?” He shrugged. “It probably isn’t as amazing as it is when your 20-something and drunk, I’ll give you. But there’s definitely a nostalgia factor in there.”

#ttl #Blaine Anderson #para #A New Path #p. Blaine #Harrod #Braine

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spiritualgravity · 6 years

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The day I left.

A few months back, I shared a story with my husband that fascinated me. A friend from high school, who I reconnected with over Facebook, told me that once a month, she leaves her home and checks into a hotel. It’s usually out of town, too. She’ll get in the car, and drive a few hours to a city she’s never visited before. The twist? She’s a Mother of two girls and is married.

She literally leaves, escapes, for mental health. Once a month. By herself. To sleep. And to do whatever a Wife and Mother of two girls does by herself for an evening in a hotel room.

I thought that was the most brilliant idea, EVER. And when she told me this admirable life-saving monthly decision, I was pregnant and had absolutely, unequivically no clue how monumental this idea actually is for a stay-at-home parent, much less any parent at all.

Fast forward to 2018, Mother’s Day arrived. One would think I gloated from all of the “First” Mother’s Day attention messages, cards and texts. Soaking up the well wishes and getting to wear an invisible crown for the day. My sweet husband spoiled me with two dozen roses and special jewelry from our favorite shop. Instead though, I was a hot, hot mess. I cried countless times. And I didn’t really know why in the moment. I think in retrospect it’s because deep down at a subconscious level, all I truly wanted in the depths of my core was some time to myself. To sleep, uninterrupted. To not only take a shower, but a long shower. To pamper myself at the salon. I realize that time is now priceless and always will be from this point forward.

I guess when you’re going through the thick of being a new parent, particularly to an award-winning challenging baby, you’re sorta just, numb. You go through the motions, trying your best, trying to forgive yourself for all of your mistakes. For saying things at 3 o’clock in the morning that absolutely mortify you. Your marriage suffers. Your undereye bags suffer. You just...get by and push through the suffering. That’s what I have been doing.

Surviving the suffering. And Mother’s Day inadvertently caused me to look in the rear view mirror and face all of it.

My daughter turns 8 months old tomorrow. Day one through month 5 were...

I can’t even type the words because I don’t want to appear ungrateful for the gift of being a Mother. But I’ll just say it, they were awful. She wouldn’t sleep, she wouldn’t be placed down in any contraption, she was up every 2 hours breastfeeding throughout the night vs. stretching out longer feeding periods like “normal” babies do {and the word “normal” is a joke, I realize}, she was fussy, colicky, and generally unhappy. She hated car rides, and took 30 minute naps. She had countless allergies that forced me to cut out countless foods as her sole source of nutrition.

It was awful, yes — pretty much all of it. My clinical postpartum depression sucked me dry from the inside-out. I generally consider myself a warrior. I am competitive, I like to do good at whatever I put my heart into, I am disciplined, and try to make myself proud. But the depression was a dark cloud. The depression was just a disguise for sleep deprivation. By the grace of God, a sleep coach entered our lives and she saved us. Our daughter learned how to sleep {literally}, and she’s been relatively happy for the past three months.

I generally stick to reading non-fiction books, and have fantasized about being a published non-fiction book author for several decades. The one and only fiction author I have followed is Emily Giffin. She wrote a book that was made into a movie, “Something Borrowed.” I registered for a women’s blogging conference years ago in Atlanta just to meet her {and I did, and it was awesome}. I learned that she checks herself into a hotel when she’s on deadline to finish her books. Ever since I learned this insight about her, I fantasized about writing a book in a hotel room. Locking the door for 48-72 hours, drinking delicious red wine, and ordering room service.

My original excuse was that I didn’t have time to write, I was too busy. Then I quit my full-time job and became an entrepreneur — my new excuse was that my original book topic was outdated and I needed a new one. Now I have a baby and she’s my new excuse.

And I suppose I shouldn’t be so hard on myself this time around because now I literally don’t have time. To take a shower. To go to the gym. To eat a meal sitting down. To go to sleep, and wake up, whenever I want. To pretty much do anything that I used to do daily and took it for granted.

There is no more free time, ever. Breastfeeding has been all-encompassing. It is something I have been incredibly passionate about since staying up reading literature on my phone for hours on end {while breastfeeding} about the mindblowing benefits to babies. But it came with challenges from the start. Inverted nipples that required a miniature plunger to perk them up for her first week of life in order to eat? I didn’t see that one coming. A baby who is lazy and doesn’t eat much unless it’s in a bottle? Drops in milk production whenever I was acutely stressed?

At her 4-month Pediatrician’s vist, we were advised to feed her an ADDITIONAL 1-3 ounces in a bottle to “top her off” as she was underweight {per the pressure cooker 1 in 100 average baby weight guidelines that can make a breastfeeding Mother feel inadequate and like a shitty failure}. This meant that after every single solitary breastfeeding session, I had to then immediately pump for 20-30 minutes. I couldn’t store or freeze the pumped milk, I had to turn around and put it right back in her belly through a bottle. I would have been happy to use formula at this point to nourish my child, and save my sanity, but her soy, egg and dairy allergies made that nearly impossible. I was trapped. I already felt like a prisoner in my own home with a colicky baby who screamed bloody murder in a motor vehicle, but now I was strapped up to the damn breastpump around the clock.

In some of my lowest moments, half asleep and delusional, I had visions of leaving. Laying down in the back seat of my car and sleeping. Not actually leaving the driveway, but just temporarily escaping to pretend I didn’t have to personally be responsible for keeping her alive for more than three-to-four hours at a time. On three occassions, I’ve had 24-48 hour out of town excursions in eight months, and everytime leading up to the trip, it was like I was training for a milk marathon, trying to pump extra-extra above and beyond what I already was just to keep her alive while I was gone. I understood why the average woman I’ve chatted with stopped breastfeeding after six weeks.

All I know is, this baby hasn’t been sick one time since her birth day. Sure she’s been a prison cellmate with me in our home together, but I’d like to think that my magical milk has been a contributing factor {at least I tell myself that to ease the pain}.

Today was a pivotal day. I checked myself into a hotel.

My daughter is evidently going through some kind of 8-month sleep regression because her baby brain is growing at warp speed and teeth are piercing through her top gums with vengence. She still feeds once a night, anywhere between 2 a.m.-4 a.m., which I was hoping to phase out soon — since according to a professional sleep coach — baby girl is 100% ready to do so. However, instead, she’s done a 180 degree tap dance in the opposite direction. Last night she woke up at least 6 times — twice to eat and the others were simply random, unexplainable cry fests.

Meanwhile, my adult brain has felt hungover all day today, but I haven’t had a drop of alcohol to drink. I am so exhausted, it physically hurts. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since my second trimester pregnant. My husband overheard me crying to a friend on the phone. A bit later while he was gone out of the house, he texted, “Would you like to get a hotel room tonight and I’ll take care of the baby? I can’t stand seeing you so upset. I haven’t seen you genuinely happy and smiling in too long.”

My heart simultaneously sank, and soared. The text was both disturbing and comforting. That my husband believes I’m unhappy; that breaks my heart. And it’s incredible that he remembered the hotel story; that makes my heart swell.

I drove 4.8 miles away from our home after we put the baby to bed, and will be sleeping solo in a King size bed, on the executive floor, and so far have been treated pretty damn good thanks to my husband’s Hilton Gold Status, thank you very much.

Forget showering. Have I envisioned myself covered in a bubble bath many-a-times? Yes. For tonight’s escapade, did I strategically pack Epsom salt and bath oils in Ziploc bags? Yes. Did my hotel room only have a stand-up shower? Yes. Did I laugh out loud? Yes. Have I been pumping while typing this blog post with my elbows at a 45-degree angle? Duh.

Serendipity is something I whole-heartedly believe in. Earlier today I received an email from my girl Emily {Giffin}. Are you ready for this? She’s releasing another book, ha! I wonder how many Hilton rewards points she has by now.

Also, today, the fancy-schmancy, lactose & chemical-free, stupid-expensive formula made in Germany arrived on our doorstep for the first time. My breasts took a collective sigh of relief to have some tag-team partners on deck.

I think it’s safe to say that today, the Universe conspired to give me a get out of jail free card. And for that, I am grateful.

#mother #daughter #grateful #marriage #husband #wife #emily giffin #non fiction #baby #hotel #hilton #writer #blogger #mommy #staycation #fiction #sunshine #truthteller #entrepreneur

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