#baby decides to take first step on Spiked Floor. nothing goes wrong ever

[kimmkitsuragi]

omg and now we have the confirmation for the posthumous sophie album..

[lyssismagical]

it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back

Febuwhump Day 21-24  – Lethal & Drown & Unwanted & Abandoned

Read on AO3

*

Tony woke to the same damp old cave he’d woken up in last time. Except one thing is different.

There’s a boy, no older than sixteen years old, chained up in an identical wooden chair across from him. The boy is unconscious, curly hair falling in front of his eyes, head resting against his own chest.

A boy.

Not a man. Not an adult. Just a child.

In a cave, somewhere in Afghanistan with crazy terrorists who’ve already done open-heart surgery on Tony without anesthetics. Who knows what they would do, or have already done, to the boy across from him.

“Hey!” Tony says, too scared to lift his voice too high in case they come back for him, but the fear that this boy is hurt runs just a little deeper than the fear of the terrorists. “C’mon, kid, wake up.”

The boy groans, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists, standing out against the rusted metal of his thick handcuffs.

“Five more minutes?”

“Open your fucking eyes, kid, and let me know if you really want another five minutes here,” Tony snaps. He doesn’t know why, but his wrists aren’t cuffed. He’s not attached to his chair in any way, other than the fear pinning him in place, and the pain flaring in his chest.

The boy blinks his eyes open, squinting at Tony. His left eye is bruised almost shut, the purple-blue crossing over his nose and splaying out across his opposite cheek. But he doesn’t pay it any attention as he looks at the bandages on Tony’s chest.

“Sorry bout your heart,” the boy offers, shrugging. His bambi-brown eyes trace up to Tony’s face, taking in the obvious fear and worry. “They’re not coming back for you. Not to hurt you, at least. They’re going to ask you to build one of your missiles.”

“How do you know that?” Tony refrains from trying to find a way to get the boy out of his chains.

“Been here for a little longer than a few months, now. I know a lot about their plans and desires. You being hurt wasn’t part of the plan. They wanted you in peak condition, actually.”

Tony’s jaw drops, eyes widening at the thought. Months. In this cave. By himself from what Tony’s aware of.

“You’re just a kid,” Tony says, fingers twitching against the arms of his chair.

“Trust me, I’m well aware of what kids my age should be out doing, but I was never a child, Mister Stark. Never was, never have been, never will be, at this rate,” the boy says, too casually for Tony’s liking. “Anyways, I’m Peter, just so you know. Peter Parker.”

Something about the boy’s face and last name strike Tony, and he blatantly stares for a few moments until it clicks. “Richard Parker.”

Peter winces, fists tightening. “Unfortunately, yeah, that’s my dad. Not quite dad of the year, though, huh?”

Tony thinks back to the last time he saw that name. In the news, probably. Richard Parker died years back, but Tony doesn’t remember ever knowing about a child.

“Yeah,” Peter says. “He had this whole experiment thing going. He wanted to see if he could invent a serum to regenerate limbs and heal even the worst illnesses, or some bullshit. He got it to work for spiders and then he needed a human trial. Guess having a baby with a few too many medical concerns was enough for him.”

Tony’s heart clenches. He knows he’s only known Peter for a few minutes, maybe a half-hour, but fuck he knows Peter doesn’t deserve the cards he was dealt.

“How’d you end up here?” Tony asks.

“He couldn’t handle a messed up kid, I guess. He sent me to a facility where I could get ‘trained’ or some bullshit. This was a job.”

“To get chained up in a cave?”

The boy laughs. Honest to god laughs. “No, my job is to be like their slave or whatever. I can be a translator. I can help you do what they need you to do. People pay a lot of money for enhanced kids if you could believe it.”

Tony doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t want to think about this child being turned into a slave because of somebody else’s mistake.

“Can you get us out of here?” Tony asks because he supposes he has to know.

But Peter just laughs again like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “Don’t you think we’d already be long gone if I could get out? Vibranium cuffs, strongest metal there is.”

The chains clink as Peter lifts his hands, just a few inches away from the chair. There’s the same sort of metal wrapped around his waist, and more around his ankles.

With his hands lifted, Tony sees the dark red stain covering Peter’s grey long sleeve.

“Fuck, what happened?”

Peter looks down like he hadn’t noticed it before and then he shrugs. “Disobeying, probably. I tried to tell them to give you something for the pain. I tried to convince them to take you to a better doctor. They don’t really like it when I try to contradict them.”

Tony wants to ask if he’s okay, wants to demand that Peter never do something like that again, wants to tell the kid that everything will be okay.

But nothing comes out.

And judging by the easy shrug the kid gives him again, and the sad look in his eye when they flicker over Tony’s bandaged chest, Tony won’t be able to keep the kid from being selfless.

Instead, he settles for a quiet, “God, kid.”

And the kid, hands shaking and eyes haunted, nods in agreement.

*

Tony cries out when the men who had entered the room head straight for Peter.

The men block Tony’s view of the kid, crowding around the boy’s chair.

“I’m cooperating!” he hears Peter cry out, before he hears the telltale noise of a hit, echoing in their little cave. “I said I was cooperating!”

Words are spit out in another language, one Tony couldn’t even try to understand, but then Peter’s being tossed onto the ground by Tony’s feet.

Tony reaches for him, never happier to not be chained up, but the men get there quicker, shoving Tony’s hands away and one of them lands a solid kick to Peter’s stomach with their thick boots.

“They want you to build a Jericho missile,” Peter coughs out, rolling up onto his knees even as he gets kicked again, making his movements weaker and uncoordinated.

“A missile?” Tony repeats stupidly, not knowing how to help as Peter goes sprawling back on the ground, a relentless storm of kicks following.

Peter cries out, curling up by Tony’s feet, arms around his head.

“I’ll do it!” Tony shouts, lifting his hands only to let them hover uselessly in the air. “I’ll build it! Please, just stop.”

The men take a few steps back, muttering in the same foreign language.

Finally, one of the men steps forward and grabs Peter by the hair, dragging the boy to his knees and telling him something.

There’s blood staining Peter’s mouth and dirt caking every inch of his body, but he still meets the man’s eye and nods.

A disgusting smile creeps onto the man’s face and he lets Peter fall back to the dirt without warning, turning to his men gleefully.

One man steps forward and clasps a thick band of metal around the kid’s neck, undoing the rest of the chains.

The kid doesn’t make any noises, staying still and quiet like he’s finally decided to stay out of harm’s way.

The first man grabs Peter by the hair again, lifting him to his knees and Peter doesn’t fight it, keeping his eyes downcast, jaw clenched.

As the man speaks, Peter translates to Tony.

“They want a list of the things you need to build the missile. They want you to start making it now, the only chance you’ll have of being set free is if you do what they ask.”

Tony knows what that means, he’ll never be set free. But he can’t stop the question that tumbles from his mouth. “What about you?”

Peter offers a watery smile at that but doesn’t actually acknowledge the answer, continuing to translate to Tony about what they want. And then he translates everything Tony needs to the men, a plan already formulating.

Tony doesn’t know for sure what his grand plan will be, all he knows is that he’s going to get Peter out of here if it’s the last thing he does.

The men finally leave with Tony’s list of equipment, leaving Tony to fall out of his chair to the ground where Peter curls up.

“Hey, hey, buddy, it’s going to be okay, you hear me? It’s going to be okay.”

Peter lifts his head, eyes welling with tears and blood dripping down the side of his head where one of the boots must’ve nailed him, arms wrapped around his stomach, and shakes his head.

“It’s not!” he cries, pressing his face against Tony’s knees. “It’s not going to be okay. You can’t promise me that.”

Smoothing back Peter’s unruly curls, Tony sighs. “I know I can’t promise you much, kiddo, but I promise you that I’m going to find a way out of here.”

And Peter cries, hiding his face away against Tony’s knees on the dirty cave floor, and he cries.

When his head turns, Tony sees the words branded into the metal sitting around Peter’s neck.

Stark Industries.

* “They said they’d hurt you if I disobeyed,” Peter says, offering the can of green beans to Tony. “They said that because I’d gotten too good at taking my own punishments, they’d punish you if I put a toe out of line, and vice versa.”

Tony doesn’t care too much about his own wellbeing. But there’s a spike of fear at the idea that if Tony does something wrong, it’ll be Peter getting punished for it.

“Stop it,” Peter says, rubbing his hands together to try to retain some warmth. “I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t give a shit if I get hurt for you. I’ve been dealing with this for as long as I can remember. I need you to keep doing things out of line because you made me a promise.”

“I’m not letting you get hurt, kid.” Tony shakes his head, passing the green beans back to Peter. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

Peter rolls his eyes, not accepting the can. “Sorry but you promised me you’re going to get us out of here. So if you’re following through with that deal, I need you to do some things out of line. Ends justify the means and all that bullshit.”

It’s a solid point. How is Tony supposed to get them out of here if he follows all the rules to the exact? As much as he doesn’t want the kid to get hurt, when he gets Peter home, he’ll be able to fix him up.

The cave gets dark as they finish up their beans, wordlessly curling up on the small cot together. Tony wraps his arms around the boy, hoping that he can protect Peter better if anybody comes back, but also for the little bit of comfort it provides the two of them in the cold cave.

There’s a part of him that’s revolted by the closeness, the vulnerability of being here with a stranger, but that stranger is a child, one that Tony would already protect with everything he has. Everything that’s led up to this moment, every war profit and weapon, every drunken night spent with nameless faces, none of it matters.

All that matters is getting Peter out of here.

“You know,” Peter murmurs, jolting Tony out of his thoughts. He can’t even make out the kid’s face in the darkness. “I won’t have anywhere to go when you get me out, if you get me out. I don’t have a family waiting for me on the other side of all this. The only people who were supposed to be my family are the people who got me into this in the first place. I’m not like you, Mister Stark.”

“Trust me, kid, I don’t have anybody waiting for me either.”

Peter shakes his head, the movement visible in the darkness. “No, I’ve seen the news, Mister Stark. You’ve got Miss Potts, you’ve got Mister Hogan and Mister Rhodes. You’ve got the entire world caring about what’s happened to you. I’ve got… I’ve got nobody.”

Tony wants to argue, wants to say that Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey are probably glad Tony’s gone. That after all the shit he put them through, they’ll be thriving without him. But that’s not the part that matters.

Instead, he presses a kiss to Peter’s forehead, the way he remembers his mom did for him after nightmares, and murmurs, “You’ve got me now, kid.”

* The men deliver the things that Tony asked for, and the work begins.

Peter, it turns out, is a genius.

He says it’s because he didn’t do much in the facilities he was kept at other than learn. He used to build shitty electronics out of things he found in dumpsters, and he was allowed to go to the library to check out books whenever he pleased so long as he stayed out of the public eye and used a fake name.

So, the ideas start pouring from them, creating blueprints and diagrams for a suit. A superhero suit out of the metal they were given for the missile.

They had to keep it a secret, they had to be extra careful about what the camera saw, and the days were passing, turning into weeks that they’d been there from what Tony could tell.

Tony got hurt a few times. A few awful times where they shoved his head underwater until he thought he would die. But it was only a few times. Peter was always extra careful that if either of them got blamed, it would be Tony, so Peter would get hurt for it.

And Peter got hurt a lot. Too much.

He would be dragged out of the room by the thick metal cuff around his neck, a shock collar Tony learned the hard way, and he’d be tossed back into the cave, sopping wet and shaking, most of the time unconscious.

There was nothing Tony could do.

Nothing.

All he could do was hold Peter close when he fell into the room and hope like hope was enough.

* The men don’t drag Peter out one of the days, they instead handcuff Tony to the cot and carelessly toss Peter to the dirty floor.

Tony doesn’t understand any of the words they spit in Peter’s direction, but the way the kid flinches and cries at the words, Tony gets the gist of it. Even if he didn’t, it’s easy to understand what they’re implying by the way they hit Peter.

“Please,” Peter begs, curling up on the floor, crying out as a boot hits him in the stomach. “Please, I can’t- I can’t-”

Peter’s words get garbled by the noises of the men shouting, and it takes a moment for Tony to understand.

Peter isn’t begging them to stop. He’s begging them to take him out so Tony doesn’t have to see.

And Tony can’t say anything or else it could count as disobeying, and Peter gets hurt for Tony’s mistakes. He doesn’t even know what his mistake was this time.

“No, please!” Peter begs, curling up tighter on the ground. One of the men grabs his arm and drags him up just enough to produce a syringe and plunge it into his arm.

The syringe has Stark Industries branded on the side.

“That’s lethal,” one of the men say, dropping Peter to the floor who writhes and sobs.

They hit him a few more times and then turn to Tony, saying something in another language. When Peter doesn’t say anything, they kick him in the back.

“They- They think you’re not follow- following the rules,” Peter says, voice shaking almost as bad as his hands as he tries to get them underneath him.

“Fuck them,” Tony says. “Fuck this.”

Peter shakes his head, tears dripping onto the dirt. “Mister Stark-”

“Tell them I’m making the missile like they asked, it just takes time. We just need time.”

Peter chokes out the translation to the men, coughing blood up onto the ground.

“It’s not- They said we have to hurry, Mister Stark. They said- They said we’re running out of time. Please, you’ve gotta- please, I can’t- It hurts, Mister Stark, please- I can’t-”

Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the scream that tears through the air, Peter’s body convulsing before he falls to the ground, eyes closed, breathing heavy and erratic.

They shocked him.

They drugged him and they hit him and shocked him.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Tony shouts, voice breaking. “I’m going to kill every single one of you for this!”

Peter gets kicked a few more times for the threats. And guilt rushes over Tony like a tidal wave. He tugs at the handcuffs, desperate to just hold the poor kid.

“Please, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry. Just let me hold him. Please, god, just let me hold him.”

But they don’t. They don’t let Tony out of his cuffs, they don’t move Peter from where he’s curled up on the floor, they don’t say anything.

They walk out.

And all Tony can do is sit and watch Peter’s chest to make sure it keeps rising and falling.

He tells Peter about his mom. He talks about her piano skills and the food she used to cook, about how much she loved his father unconditionally even if his father wasn’t the best. He talks about his father and their rocky relationship, how their death forced him so young to take over Stark Industries.

He talks about Pepper and her no-nonsense mindset. About Happy and despite being the head of security, can’t work technology for the life of him. About Rhodey and how he’s stood by Tony’s side as his best friend for decades, without fail, Rhodey’s always there. (He doesn’t bother saying that Rhodey’s not here now when Tony needs him most.)

He talks until his voice is raw and hoarse, until the fire dies across the room, until his eyelids are drooping.

And then Peter moans in pain.

“Mister Stark?” he calls out before he even opens his eyes.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m right here, I promise.”

It doesn’t soothe the boy like he was hoping, instead his bottom lip begins to tremble, and he lifts his shaking hands out in Tony’s direction.

A simple request.

Peter wants to be held.

“I can’t, kiddo. I’m all chained up over here. I can’t get to you,” Tony says, rattling his chains for effect. “You’re not chained up, though. You can come get to me.”

And the kid, he cries.

“Mister Stark.”

“I’m here, kid. I’m here, you’ve got me. Don’t cry, I hate it when you cry,” Tony says, surprising himself at how much he genuinely has grown to care for the kid over the past few weeks.

“Mister Stark.”

Tears spring to Tony’s eyes as well hearing the kid sound so broken. “I’m right here, kiddo. I’m right here. It’s going to be okay. I promised you, remember?”

Peter’s face crumbles. “Mister Stark, they’re coming back. They’re- They’re coming back. I’m- I can’t do it again. Please, I can’t- It hurts so bad, Mister Stark, please, I can’t-”

Lethal, echoes in his head. All he wants is to hold Peter.

The door slams open again, the same men filing into the room, this time, a bucket of water held between a few of them.

They’ve both been through this song and dance before.

“No!” Tony cries out, pulling at his restraints. “No! Don’t fucking touch him!”

Peter sobs, trying in vain to escape the hands reaching out for him, but he’s weak, drugs coursing through his body and beaten within an inch of his life.

There’s nothing he can do.

There’s nothing Tony can do.

Later, long after Peter wakes up after passing out from the waterboarding, Peter crawls over to Tony, rips the cuffs away from his wrists, and they hold each other close and cry.

And Peter lives. Like he always does. And he doesn’t stop taking all of the hits for both of them.

The next day, Peter’s too hurt to leave the cot.

He curls up in a little ball, low whines escaping his throat when he can’t help it, body trembling miserably.

It didn’t help that they waterboarded him in cold water. It made the shivering relentless.

And after the first time, Tony learned that Peter couldn’t thermoregulate.

“You okay, bud?” Tony asks quietly, kneeling beside the cot to push back Peter’s curls, nearly flinching at the heat radiating from the kid’s forehead. Fever, of course.

Peter’s hazy eyes slowly meet Tony’s, empty and haunted. “M’okay.”

It’s a blatant lie, but Tony doesn’t bother pointing it okay. “Okay, buddy. I’m going to get some work done, alright? But you stay right here and rest, and you let me know if you need anything, alright?”

Tony tugs the thin blanket around Peter’s shoulders, gently tucking him in.

“Okay,” Peter whispers, voice hoarse and broken. “Be careful.”

Tony isn’t sure whether he means that Tony should be careful and not get caught doing bad things so Peter doesn’t get hurt again, or if he means to be careful because he’s scared he won’t be able to protect Tony himself.

Either way, Tony nods and offers a weak smile. “Soon, kiddo, soon, I promise.”

It’s not enough. Soon would never be enough. Peter shouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place.

Peter just nods once, curling up a little tighter as his small shoulders tremble.

He’s going to get Peter out of here. Get the kid back to the tower to get some needed medical attention, give him a real bed, a real room, a real home. He had to.

So, he forces himself to cross the room, leaving Peter alone in the cot, looking small and young, and makes himself focus on the task at hand.

He was going to get Peter home.

No matter what.

  * Three fucking months.

Three godawful, scarring, life-changing months that they spend in the cave, working relentlessly on their project.

But it’s finally complete and their plan is in action to get them out of here.

“You ready, bud?” Tony asks softly, cupping the boy’s face. He never thought he’d be the parental type, never thought he’d be a good person for anybody to idolize, but he’s all that Peter has and he has to be enough.

Peter’s eyes are wide and glassy, but there’s a strong determination shining within him as he offers a grim smile.

“Always, of course. Let’s get this show on the road.”

And their plan commences.

Everything works according to plan. The suit, the bomb explosion, it goes well.

But then the panic is showing in Peter’s eyes, fear blazing through the determination. “We don’t have enough time.”

Tony frowns down at the suit encasing his body, holding him to the wall, and the loading bar filling too slowly, and the sound of feet and guns approaching quickly.

Peter’s face falls and his eyes are teary as he leans his head against Tony’s chest, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, taking a step back and schooling his face into bravery. “I’m going to buy you some time. Follow the plan.”

“No!” Tony shouts, trying in vain to get his arms off the wall, to stop Peter from making this mistake, but there’s nothing he can do but watch as Peter races off down the hallway, grabbing a gun off one of the men who got taken down by the explosion.

There’s nothing Tony can do but follow the plan and just hope he’ll find Peter on the other side of it all.

So he rips himself off the wall, guns blazing and starts off through the twisting cave.

There are no problems as Tony makes his way through the memorized plan, carelessly killing anybody that crosses his path.

These were the people who hurt Peter, he doesn’t give a shit about them.

The light is blinding when he reaches the entrance to the cave, freezing in his steps when he sees the kid.

“Peter,” Tony breathes, pushing the mask off his face and falling to his knees next to the boy sprawled on the ground.

Peter has the audacity to grin up at Tony, fumbling fingers grabbing his arm. “Did I do a good job?”

Tony chokes out a sob, gently cupping Peter’s face. “You did wonderful, buddy. Now we’ve gotta get you out of here, okay? We’ve gotta get you home.”

“Don’t have a home, Mis’er S’ark.”

“No, kiddo, you have a home now. Told you, you couldn’t get rid of me that easily, huh?” Tony says, shaking his head. “I’ll be back for you, okay? I promise.”

Peter nods like he doesn’t believe it and Tony can’t help but to think of Peter when he was a baby, imagining chubby cheeks and a gummy smile and the biggest bambi-brown eyes, being left behind by his father, never to see him again.

Tony can’t help but to think about Peter growing up asking where his parents were, what happened to them, why they never came back for him.

And now he’s being told to wait, by himself, again. Tony can’t help but to think about all the broken promises, to the point where Peter won’t even dare to believe this one.

“I’ll be right back, buddy. Got to make sure it’s safe before I take you anywhere, okay? I’ll be back before you know it, just keep your eyes open, alright?”

Peter nods again, and lets his hand fall from Tony’s arms, offering a watery smile.

Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s head before he turns towards the opening of the cave to get them to safety.

* Tony scoops Peter into his arms without preamble, tucking Peter close to his chest and hoping the metal isn’t too hot against the kid’s skin, it doesn’t help that Tony’s already torched the place and they’ll need to fly through it.

“Got you, kiddo, I’ve got you, just like I promised,” Tony murmurs, taking off towards the sky.

They did it, they’re out of that godawful cave, and Peter is tucked in his arms.

The sky is close enough to touch, heat falling beneath them, and they shoot out of the little village towards the sandy ravines.

Tony keeps Peter close, even as the boots run out of fuel and they finish their arc towards the sand too fast.

Flipping in the air, Tony keeps Peter cradled on his chest and hits the sand on his back. He loses grip of Peter as soon as they hit the ground, the momentum throwing them through the sand.

For a moment, his vision whites out.

And then he’s fumbling to rip the metal off him and stumble through the sand towards Peter’s body.

He can hear a helicopter somewhere overhead and he’s reminded that it’s been three months since he got taken (sixteen fucking years since Peter was) but people were still searching for him. Despite the helicopter, Tony doesn’t bother trying to wave it down. Instead, he heads straight for Peter.

“C’mon, buddy, not the time to sleep just yet. Wake on up, kid, I still need you,” Tony says, carefully drawing Peter into his chest.

There’s blood. A lot of it. Staining the front of the kid’s shirt, but it’s almost always stained with blood, so Tony doesn’t find himself as worried about it. He’s more worried about the rattling breaths Peter’s taking in and the way his ice-blue lips are smeared with blood, despite the heat pounding down on them.

“C’mon, kiddo, I promised you I was going to get you out of there and home. I’ve grown attached to someone for the first time in like a decade, so it would be cruel of you to just ditch me now.”

Peter’s eyes blink open at him, squinting under the sunlight. A lazy smile touches his face and his muscles relax.

“Missed the sun,” he says, voice slurring and hoarse. “Thank you, Mister Stark.”

“Don’t thank me yet, kid. I’m getting you to the best doctors in the world and then I’m showing you to your new home, just like I promised.”

Peter’s trembling fingers curl into Tony’s shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. “I don’t wanna die, Mister Stark. Please, I can’t- I can’t die, please-”

“It’s okay, kid. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

There’s pounding footsteps heading towards them and all Tony can think is he needs to protect Peter, so he wraps his arms tight around Peter who trembles in his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Tony snarls protectively, cupping the back of the kid’s neck and holding his head against the crook of his neck.

“Tony, it’s just me, man. It’s okay.”

Gripping Peter tighter, Tony looks up to find-

“Rhodey?” Tony sobs, hanging onto Peter. He can’t even imagine how wrecked they both look, crying in the sand. “Rhodey, fuck, the kid- he needs help. He needs- Fuck, you’ve gotta-”

“Let’s you guys home, alright? It’s going to be okay. You have to trust me though.”

Rhodey looks like he’s going to take Peter from him, arms outstretched, and the kid cowers, crying out in fear.

“Don’t touch him, please, fuck, don’t- I’ve got him, okay? I’ve got him,” Tony says, clutching the kid closer.

Lifting his hands in surrender, Rhodey takes a couple of steps back from them, watching as Tony scoops Peter into his arms, cradling him against his chest as he had before.

Peter hides his head against the crook of Tony’s neck, burning forehead pressing against Tony’s skin, shaking in his arms, tears spilling over his shirt.

“I’ve got you, kiddo, I’ve got you,” Tony murmurs, stumbling forwards. Rhodey gets a good grip on his upper arm and helps haul them towards the helicopter.

“Mister Stark,” Peter whines quietly. “I- I-”

Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s forehead, ignoring the strange look Rhodey sends him. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay. Remember, I promised you.”

There’s nothing much Tony can do but spew reassurances like they can fix this.

There’s nothing he can do but hold his kid close and hope like hope means anything.

* As soon as Tony’s cleared in medical, aside from things like starvation and dehydration and sleep-deprivation, among the whole heart surgery thing, plus some pretty nasty burns from the suit, Tony begs everyone he sees to take him to Peter.

He doesn’t care if he looks like a pathetic version of The Tony Stark. He doesn’t care if he looks like a wreck.

All he wants is to hold his kid.

Is that too much to ask?

Thankfully, Pepper arrives to medical pretty quickly, despite everything.

“I need to see Peter,” Tony says before everything else. He doesn’t give a shit about himself or about the company or about the media. “I need- Pepper, I need to see him.”

Pepper sits at the edge of his bed, gently resting her hand on his ankle. “What you need to do is calm down, Tony. Peter’s still in surgery. He’s going to be okay, but you can’t see him just yet.”

“Tears for your long lost boss?” Tony says because he just wants to pretend like he doesn’t feel like somebody scooped his chest clean.

Pepper lets out a watery laugh. “Yeah, I hate job hunting.”

“I can’t make weapons anymore,” Tony says. “You can’t talk me out of it. The people there, they- I can’t do it.”

“Okay,” Pepper says like she gets it, like she understands. “We’ll figure it all out later, okay? For now, I want you to rest.”

Tony shakes his head, awkwardly shoving the blankets off his legs with his left arm in a sling. “No, you don’t understand, I need all production of weapons to be frozen. I need all the exports to be stopped. I need every piece of weaponry with my name on it to be taken back and destroyed. I need you to- to fix this. I’ve made too many mistakes and I need to fix it, Pep.”

Pepper’s hand is soft and cold against his cheek, carefully cradling his face. “Of course, Tony, right away. Do you want to talk about it?”

“They hurt the kid with my weapons, Pep. They- They used my weapons to kill innocent people. My weapons hurt my kid. I can’t- I can’t have them falling into the wrong hands anymore.”

The smile that touches Pepper’s face is proud, proud of Tony, which isn’t something Tony thought he’d ever see. “Your kid?”

Tony’s eyes flicker down to the bed, looking everywhere but at Pepper. “I’m not going to let him down. Not now.”

“It’s a good look on you, Tony. This whole caring thing you’ve got going for you, it’s nice to see. Despite everything, I’m glad Peter has you.”

They lapse into silence, Pepper’s eyes on him but he doesn’t look up.

Eventually, Pepper pats his leg once more and stands from the bed. “Get some rest, Tony. You deserve it. I’ll figure the company out.”

“Send me any updates through JARVIS, alright? I want every weapon recalled immediately.”

“I’ll make it my top priority, Tony.” She stops at the door, eyes glancing down at his bare chest, arc reactor glowing brightly. “He’ll be okay, you know that, right?”

Tony forces himself to nod. “If possible, could you get Happy to make up the guest bedroom next to mine? Properly set up for a teenage boy?”

Pepper nods, hesitates like she wants to ask him something, but decides better of it and ducks out of the room.

After the past three months in the cave, barely hours apart from the kid, Tony can’t sleep by himself. He’s used to curling up in the small cot with Peter, holding him tight to try to stop the relentless shivering.

Now, he’s expected to rest when he hasn’t even seen Peter in who knows how long. He’s expected to be okay with leaving Peter alone with strangers while he does nothing.

He’s spent too long hoping, and now they’ve got it, but it isn’t enough. It won’t feel like he’s safe until he gets Peter in his arms. It won’t feel like he’s made it out of the cave until he’s allowed to speak freely and rest easy, holding his kid in their home.

He hates feeling useless and like there’s nothing he can do. He’s felt like that for three months and he’s sick of it.

But there’s still lingering fear that if he steps out of line, Peter will be hurt for it.

So he keeps his mouth shut and lays still in the hospital bed.

* “Knock, knock.”

Pepper pushes the door open and steps into his room.

It’s been at least six hours since she left, but Tony’s refused to sleep or move from his bed.

“Is Peter okay?”

She offers a soft smile and sits at the end of his bed again. She looks pretty, dressed professionally and well-rested. “He’s still asleep, but you’re allowed over. But first, I figured you’d like to know I have all of our employees working on recalling all of the weapons and all production has been frozen for the time being.”

All the worry rushes out of his body at once. “I can go see him?”

Pepper holds out her hand to him. “Yeah, come on.”

She leads him out of his hospital room and down the hall to another door. She pushes it open to reveal Peter lying in his own identical hospital bed. He has an oxygen mask and a heart monitor and plenty of needles and IV’s.

“He doesn’t like needles,” Tony says. He remembers Peter getting drugged back in that cave and his stomach clenches. “Is he- He looks so pale, Pepper, is he-”

“He’s okay, Tony,” Pepper murmurs, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders and leading him to the chair beside the bed. “He lost quite a bit of blood but he’s on the mend.”

Tony lets go of Pepper’s hand to hold Peter’s, gently squeezing his cold hand. “He can’t thermoregulate. Would you- Would you turn up the heat?”

Pepper does as asked, barely taking her eyes of Tony as she does. “He’s going to be okay, Tony, you don’t need to worry.”

Shaking his head, Tony murmurs a quiet, I know, before tuning her out, focusing solely on the beeping heart monitor.

Pepper leaves him not long later, murmuring something about checking on the progress of his requests, but he doesn’t care. He only cares about Peter’s cold hand in his.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, Peter peeks one of his eyes open. “Mister Stark?”

“You’re a little shit, you know that? I hate you,” Tony says, making sure to throw as much sarcasm and relief into his voice. “They took you to surgery, you realize, for injuries you never bothered to tell me about.”

Peter shrugs, sitting up in bed despite Tony’s protests, and pulling his oxygen mask down so it hands around his neck. “My bad? I heal quick, don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” Tony repeats incredulously, grip tightening on Peter’s hand. “Do you have any idea how long your list of injuries is?”

“I was in Afghanistan for seven months, Tony. There was a lot that happened before you were there anyways.” Peter shakes his head, blinking the haunted look out of his eyes, and grinning. “Either way, I feel wonderful but absolutely famished if you’ve got some food around here.”

“If I have food?” The teasing joke dies in his throat though. Even if Tony’s always had food, will always have food stocking his kitchen a few floors up, Tony can’t even imagine how unstable even basic necessities are for Peter.

Peter shrugs again, looking at Tony expectantly.

“Let’s get you cleared by a doctor first, I’m not about to let you wander about without permission.”

Tony hits the button for the doctor to come and looks at Peter with a squinted expression. “I’m guessing you have questions?”

“Where are we? Please don’t say New York. And what the fuck? And also, who was just in here?”

Tony can’t help but to laugh and with the way Peter looks up at him with a wide-eyed expression, Tony wonders if he’s ever done that around the kid. “You’re in California, right now. My Malibu Mansion. And Pepper was in here, my assistant.”

“Like Barbie?”

Before Tony can say anything, Cho walks into the room, sporting a professional smile.

“Hello, Mister Stark, nice to see you looking a little better, as you, Mister Parker,” she says. “How are you feeling?”

The nonchalant, confident Peter from seconds ago seems to have disappeared leaving an anxious shell. His fingers shift restlessly and his mouth is set in a firm line, eyes focused on the floor.

“I’m fine.”

Tony nudges Peter’s arm. “You have to be honest with the doctor, kiddo, she’s just here to help.”

The kid’s eyes flicker to Tony before falling back to the ground. Quietly, almost too quietly for Tony to pick up on, he asks, “You promise?”

“I promise, buddy. Miss Cho just wants to get you back on your feet, just like I do, I trust her.”

Peter sniffles, chewing on his bottom lip. “My chest hurts and my stomach.”

Had Tony been the first person Peter allowed himself to trust? That kind of pressure is almost too much for Tony to handle, squeezing Peter’s hand in his. He doesn’t know how to be that person for the kid. All he knows for sure is that he cares and that he needs the kid to be okay, to feel safe, to have a home in Tony, and he knows that’ll be enough to guide him through the motions.

“That’s to be expected,” Cho says, voice gentler than before and she purposefully moves her hands to her hips so they’re both visible and weaponless. “You had quite a few ribs that were broken and healed improperly. You had a punctured lung when you got here, though it was pretty new. And we used medicines for enhanced people which comes with some side-effects like stomach pain.”

“Yikes,” Peter manages, letting out a choked laugh. “That sucks.”

And Cho smiles, nodding. “Yeah, it does. But we expect a full recovery within a few days with your healing.”

“Could I show him around? Get him some food upstairs?” Tony asks, squeezing Peter’s hand again, smiling when he gets a squeeze back.

“Yeah. I think I’d like to see him again tonight, especially if the chest pain persists, but as long as he takes it easy and rests, I think he’ll be alright to go.”

So Tony takes Peter’s hand, helps him out of the bed and leads him all the way up to the top floor of the mansion, without letting him go.

“You want something to eat?” Tony offers, leading him to the kitchen that Pepper kept well stocked. He wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed on his floor while he was gone. “A sandwich?”

Peter’s face pinches like the idea of a sandwich makes him uncomfortable. “I, uh, I could just go for a can of green beans, honestly.”

“I’m not-” Tony cuts himself off and wonders if this is too big of a jump for the poor kid. Seven months living off gross food in a can, probably long passed the expiry date, in a damp cold cave, all the way to living in a luxurious mansion.

“I, uh, I don’t mind. Whatever works. I just- I don’t know, this is a lot,” Peter says apprehensively. “A little overwhelming.”

Tony can’t physically give him a can of green beans. He can’t do it, but he can do regular fresh green beans and hope it’ll be okay.

“I don’t know if I ever told you, but I, uh, my mom was Mary Parker, well Fitzpatrick. And believe it or not, she was amazing. She loved me so much. I remember she used to make sandwiches for my dad to take to work with him. She used to hang out with me all day while he was working. She would always tease him for wanting the crusts cut off his sandwiches,” Peter explains quietly over his green beans.

Tony can’t help but notice that Peter doesn’t even try to pick up the fork left for him.

It was the same kind of thing for Tony, though. His mom was amazing, loved Tony unconditionally, but she also loved Howard unconditionally despite his devotion to work that took away from them.

“Yeah?”

Peter’s eyes flicker up to Tony. “Yeah. But in the end, she didn’t put up a fight when my dad took me away. She just kissed my forehead and said goodbye like she couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“Nobody’s taking you from me,” Tony says. He doesn’t know if that’s what Peter’s hinting at, but he needs the kid to understand it anyways. “I will fight tooth and nail if anybody tries to take you from me. I’m not letting you go, ever.”

And Peter’s shoulders droop, blinking a few times. “Yeah, of course, yeah. I know. I just- I don’t know. This is really new to me.”

Tony offers a reassuring smile. “It’s new to me too, don’t worry, but I know for sure that you can’t rid of me anymore. You’ve got me on your side. No matter what.”

Nodding, Peter finishes off his green beans and offers a tentative smile. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for this one, kid… I’ve also decided to stop all weapon production. Pepper’s recalling everything, making sure none get made from us anymore. I should’ve realized how much harm they were doing earlier-”

“Yeah, of course, that’s good,” Peter says, cutting him off. He looks paler than he had seconds earlier and Tony realizes Peter probably doesn’t want to hear about weaponry this soon after their rescue. “Could I actually lay down for a bit? You heard Miss Cho, gotta get my beauty sleep.”

Tony shows Peter to his bedroom, making a mental note to thank Happy for the very quick work he did in fixing up the bedroom right beside Tony’s.

“Get some rest, kid. Let me know if you need anything, alright? I’m just next door,” Tony murmurs. He pauses at the doorway, hand hovering over the lightswitch.

“Could you, uh, could you just leave it on?” Peter asks, letting out a nervous laugh. “I’d rather not be in the dark anymore, you know?”

“Course, kid, yeah.”

Peter nods a few times, sitting on the edge of his new bed. “Night, Mister Stark.”

Later, Tony will realize that as soon as he closes the door beside him, Peter races into the connecting bathroom to throw up and talk himself out of a panic attack before bed.

Later, he’ll realize Peter moves the pillow and a few blankets onto the floor because he doesn’t feel comfortable on the soft mattress after seven months on the godawful cot.

Later, he’ll learn that Peter curls up in a tight ball and cries himself to sleep.

But for the moment, Tony just turns and closes the door, unable to offer any help if Peter doesn’t want it. He just hopes Peter will come to him if he needs it.

* Tony jerks awake at the sound of his door opening. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he supposes even he has to sleep at some point.

He’s reaching for his nightstand, for some weapon, when the light spills in to reveal Peter standing there.

The kid is crying quietly, shuffling on his feet like he can’t make up his mind, and then he’s scurrying into the room on almost silent feet.

“Kid?” Tony murmurs, slowly lifting up in bed to squint at the kid who jumps at his voice.

“Mister Stark,” Peter cries, hands lifting out towards him. A child asking to be held. “Can’t- I can’t sleep alone, I can’t-”

Tony shushes him gently, silently lifting his blankets.

The kid crawls into the bed without a second thought, curling up against Tony’s side like they’re still sleeping on the tiny cot. He hides his face in Tony’s shirt, nearly cutting his cheek on the edge of the arc reactor, crying into the fabric.

“I- I dreamt I was drowning and I- I couldn’t get to you and I tried- I tried so hard, Mister Stark, but I couldn’t- I couldn’t-”

Tony gently smooths back Peter’s curls, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We’re okay, kiddo. I’ve got you. We’re safe now, we’re out of there. We’re safe, I promise.”

“I just wanted my nigh’light,” Peter admits through his hiccuping sobs, shaking fingers tapping on the glowing arc reactor. “I- I- I woke up and I thought you were gone.”

“I’m here, bambi, I’ve got you.” Tony wraps an arm tightly around Peter’s waist, holding him close.

Tony keeps up a litany of reassurances and soothing words until Peter’s trembling ceases and his tears slow, knowing that they’re safe now so the words are what matters, not just another way to get them through the pain.

“Get some rest, kiddo, I’ve got you, I’m here,” Tony murmurs, kissing his forehead again.

“They’re not- They’re not coming back?”

Rage flashes through Tony’s chest and he silently swears he’ll kill every single person who hurt Peter with his bare hands. For now, he soothes Peter’s fears softly. “No, you’re safe now. I’m going to protect you, kid, I’ve got you.”

“You won’t- You won’t send me away?”

“You’re my kid now, Peter, nothing’s going to take us away from each other, okay? I promise and I don’t break my promises, do I?”

Peter giggles through the leftover tears, his laughter like the sun finally peeking through the clouds after a storm. “No, you don’t.”

“See? I promise you, it’s going to be me and you now, and I’m going to keep you safe.”

Peter finally relaxes, eventually slipping back to sleep in Tony’s arms.

And it’s not okay, they’re still pretty far from it, but for now, it’s enough. It’s enough to hold each other close and rest.

Later, there will be a lot to deal with, a lot to work through, the longest list of trauma to face, but as long as they have each other, there’s nothing they can’t do.

[hydrangeasimagination]

Uchi

Pairing(s): Platonic! Big Bros Midoriya and Todoroki & Younger Sib! Reader | Hinted! Momo X Reader & Ochako X Reader

Summary: After the whole Kamino incident, you finally were in the custody of your dearest father; Yagi Toshinori. The entire situation was quite stressful for you but you were very happy. You finally had a place where you belonged.

Warning: Abuse mention. Anxious thoughts.

A/N: Based on all the familial Dad Might Family Unit. Part Five baby! Uchi means “home”, I believe, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.This is more so for the sake of just wanting to show off Mochi’s room design and some more soft brothers fluff with Zuku and Shou!

Happy Holidays everyone!!

Under the cut for space!

[Part One][Part Four]

Shouto didn't look up from his phone when he felt the hold on his arm suddenly tighten, simply moving closer to allow a stranger to pass by. More than aware of the stares, he simply tucked his cell away after the text was sent. He lifted his gaze forward again and it hardened, watching people jump and then look away. The low sigh of relief from his side wasn't unheard, the grip on his arm loosening.

The half-haired boy turned, his expression deceivingly uncaring as he spoke, "Are you alright?"

Quietly, you breathed out along long exhale and gave a small nod. An anxious smile gently curling at the corners of your mouth as he led you through the bustling store. Scarred fingers flexing against his elbow, the other hand reaching up to comb through the fur lining the hood of your coat. Deciding to focus on the music playing over all the voices of people going about their day.

He paused in the middle of the aisle, turning to face you properly. A calloused hand held your own, the warmth seeping into your skin calming your rushing thoughts as he leaned in closer.

Voice low and soft, mellow, very soothing to the ear while he spoke. "We can always go back and shop online."

Pursing your lips, you squeezed his hand. Shaking your head, running the pad of your thumb over the back of his knuckles. Whether it was to comfort him or comfort yourself, you weren't really sure but you had to do this.

It was just shopping, mundane to the normal person but for you...

It was more complicated.

Seeing as you weren't used to crowds just yet. Despite the school you had chosen to go to, despite constantly being surrounded by people...

It would never get any easier.

Dealing with so many people.

People that you didn't know the intentions of.

Strangers with leering eyes and judging — Shouto's forehead rested against your's as the low hum of his voice was heard over your internalized panic.

"Stop." He murmured, voice quiet but a much needed sternness underlined it.

Peering into pools of sapphire and granite grey, your speeding heartbeat calmed. Lids flitting shut, taking in slow, deep breaths while the hold on your hand tightened in reassurance. The knots in the pit of your stomach loosening, the tightness in your throat lessening, melting into nothing but a nagging feeling.

Eyes fluttering open again, he drew away, holding nothing but concern for you as he repeated himself, "Are you alright?"

You shook your head but smiled at him, feeling the well of anxiety still buzz under your skin.

"No... But I will be."

"Todoroki - kun?"

Shouto blinked slowly, halting in his reminiscing of the early morning hours of the day before. His line of sight met with Izuku's who glanced from the group walking in front of them back to the half-haired boy with curiosity.

"Where's Mocchan?"

The mention of your affectionate nickname made him smile, just the slightest bit, a glimmer of fondness in his eyes. The greenet nearly laughed at the change in his expression while their classmates moved to the next room to subject it to judging. It seemed moving into the dorms really softened them all up a bit. You weren't too far after all and they didn't have to worry as much about checking up on you.

Lifting his phone, he took a moment to check the time. The lateness made his worry spike for a split second but a text from you nullified it, the pixels on the screen signalling that you were making your way inside.

"Back...  Just downstairs." Shouto explained as he put his phone away, combing his fingers through his hair almost sleepily as he rubbed his face.

Izuku was about to speak but his head turned at the sound of the elevator doors opening and moved past his classmates to peer out into the hallway. He was unable to stop the grin that split his face and stepped from Sato's room at the sight of you. Like the dutiful brother he was, he moved to you, the sound of footsteps making it clear Shouto wasn't too far behind.

"Mocchan, welcome back!" He greeted kindly, taking note of your slightly weary features.

"How was work?" Todoroki almost immediately asked, his eyes flickering over your face to see if there was anything wrong.

Blinking slowly at them, you gave a sleepy but very warm smile. Midoriya's chest ached dully at the sight of the bandage wound tightly around your forearm, having caught just a peek of it as the sleeve of your shirt shifted just so.

"Zuku - nii, Shou - nii" You hummed softly in greeting, scurrying forward to squeeze the two of them into a gentle hug as your signature "What's happening?"

"Oh, well, everyone's having a dorm viewing competition." Izuku explained with a soft chuckle, amused as despite how tired you were, you seemed to be alight with energy.

It was nice to see, as you had appeared so grim and tired before. The feeling that settled tightly in his chest didn't leave though, even while he takes your hand in his own. But was silent as your classmates took notice of your arrival. He watched as you returned what seemed to be a book to Shouto's hands, the cover making it clear that it was something he recommended to you.

"Oh!! You're back! Welcome home!!" Mina squeaked at the sight of you, grinning quite brightly as she bounced in place, "Now that you're back though, I think you should go next!"

With a yawn you were unable to stifle and offering them all a tired smile, fixing the coat that your wore. "Alright, I'm on the second floor though so you might wanna wrap up those on this floor first."

Piling into the elevator, you couldn't help but feel a little bit amused as they informed you on the rooms that you had missed. Little giggles worming their way from you at the mentions of Izuku's room and Shouto's room, having already seen both of them. Your father and Shouto had allowed you to just go to work and someone else was hired to set up your room for you a day early.

Hence the shopping you had done not long ago.

"Well, I'm not sure my room is as impression as Shou's but he did get everything set up for me while I was at work." You offhandedly commented, yawning quietly as you reached into your pocket, "I was here for an hour to get most of what I wanted up but then I had to leave."

Swiftly, you unlocked the door and opened it.

The mixture of surprise and awe you were able to elicit from your classmates amused you a little though, especially as you reached into turn on the strings of light decorating the wall beside your bed. Slowly turning to them, swinging your arms outwards.

"This is it."

"It looks so cozy and soft!" Ochako squeaked, looking around the space and taking a moment to admire the cute trinkets you set up beside the autographed photos you've taken with heroes. The powdering of pink across her cheeks mostly unnoticed due to the dim lighting.

"Whoa, that's..." Kirishima peered at the stuffed animals piled inside of your open closet, unable to stop smiling as a bead of sweat curved over his cheek, "That's uh — a lot of plushies."

Scanning the space, Denki set his hand on his hip and looked at you as he stated, "It looks straight out of a catalog."

"I got a lot of my inspiration from the internet." You explained with a small giggle, scratching your cheek sheepishly, "My Dad had someone set it up while I was at work."

"Well, All Might never goes just half-way, huh?" Kyoka nudged you, chuckling a little at your embarrassed expression.

"Well, it's the first kind of space that's really belonged to just me." Carefully ringing your scarred fingers into the edge of your hoodie, you shifted in place. Your gaze pointed to the wall of strung lights and photos, suddenly self-conscious as you lowered your voice. "I - it's not too much, is it?"

"Not at all, she's just teasing!" Momo interjected, smiling softly at you. "It's a nice room."

Just like that, you lit up again and she felt her heart squeeze just slightly at the radiant smile she received. The warm light washing over your skin making you appear almost ethereal. If you had a tail, it'd surely be wagging especially with the pleased look on your face.

Izuku wordlessly took everything in, the swell of pride in his chest unmistakable. Clear with the smile that decorated his lips and straightening of his posture.

Something caught the corner of his vision, the color in the neutral space on your bookshelf. Set betwixt your framed photos and little trinkets, set a small piece that had been the subject of his attention. Mouth pulling into a thin line, he moved closer to your bookshelf to look at the figure. It was of your father, during the Silver Age. Small and cheaply made, chipping and dulled paint displaying that it was well loved.

Stomach pulling into tight knots, he was reminded once more of the life you had.

The life you were saved from. The terrible things that had left you with scars, both on your body and upon your psyche.

He didn't realize he was clenching his fists and teeth until he felt a hand on his shoulder, heavy and comforting in weight and warmth. Todoroki's expression was as calm as ever, though his eyes gave his concern away. The pit in his stomach was alleviated for the time being as he did his best to give his half haired... Friend? Brother? A reassuring smile or something of the sort.

He shouldn't be thinking about this right now anyway.

"Mochi, you wanna tell us how you met Hawks?"

Not when it was the past.

Izuku smiled again as he stepped forward, subtly coaxing Shouto to join with a light nudge. He chuckled and piped, "Reminds me that you still haven't told us yet either."

Your expression lit up, brilliant and bright smile decorating your features.

"Oh, well, see —"

When he looked at your face, another reason was added to the list of why he was trying to become the best hero. So you could keep smiling.

That was his vow, his promise, and he was fully intent on keeping it.

[imgonnaketchumall]

... story time...

I wrote a thing this morning based on me and @frostbittxntrainer-returned Rowdy Boys verse. Shit, I can’t tag anything but uhhh...warnings? 

---

You are two years old.

You are two years old and Mama and Red bury their noses in your soft raven baby curls.  Red, who never talks back, moves his hand in funny shapes you don’t understand and plays clap-clap games with you. He shakes your toys and pushes you on the baby swing at the park.

Red always, always, always protects you and gives you extra snack when Mama’s not looking.

Daddy’s never really there, but when he is he takes you both to the park. Red sits with glares and pouts at the older man who is more interested in newspapers and magazines than his youngest son who falls down the slide wrong.

You roll and tumble down the plastic slide, Red going over to you who just laughs and laughs, then cries when you see the sliver of red on your knee. Red pats your head and ruffles those baby curls. He keeps extra bandaids in his pocket because you just attract scrapes like venomoths are attracted to light. Red kisses the bandaid just like Mama.

Daddy looks up from the paper and scowls. “Ashton, don’t do that. I think it’s time we go home.”

You get home to find Mama in the kitchen, laughing and talking with your Auntie. She looks at you and smiles. “You know, the community center is doing a little pageant. Maybe Ashton would like that? The winner gets a gift basket of baby goods and a year supply of diapers.”

Mama looks at you and smiles. She says okay because what’s the harm of one little pageant? Plus, saving money on diapers is always worth it.

“Great.” Auntie smiles at you.

Mama knows what’s coming and is sniffling and dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Red is sitting on the ground with some toys. He gives you a thumbs up because this is a big day in your life. Mama is just crying because that’s what Mama does when you’re getting too old for something.

A woman with long fingernails ties a cape to you printed with baby pokemon on it. She takes out the comb and yanks through your hair, snipping off the long curls Mama loves. You don’t really get what’s happening and start to cry. Red looks over concerned, but he doesn’t really get why you’re crying. He thinks maybe you’re just scared, because you’ve never had a haircut before. He just gives you a thumbs up again to help you feel better.

Mama sniffles and takes a picture because now you look grown up. Your hair is shorter than Red’s but Mama says it’s okay, because you’re a big boy now. She takes you and Red for ice cream and buys you a new toy because it’s a big step in your life.

Three days later, Mama and Auntie are in the living room putting you in a Pikachu onesie. Auntie is teaching you a little dance that makes everyone coo and laugh.  It’s easy, and the grownups love it. Red watches, but even he smiles, because you are cute.

Red is sitting on the floor of the community center when you come out to do your Pikachu dance. You don’t like everyone watching. You don’t like all the pictures being taken and the giggles. You don’t like showing the world your Pikachu dance, but you do it anyway.

Auntie and Mama are very happy that you won the basket of prizes. You get to go out to get ice cream after, so it’s all good.

You are three years old.

You are three years old, and Auntie has been bit by what is called the pageant bug. You have been in three pageants, with little boys and girls. All the girls wear fluffy dresses. The little boys are in nice clothes and have hair combed to the side like yours.  You do your Pikachu dance again and everyone just smiles and coos at how cute you are.

Daddy sits in the stands with Red, Red who has his ears covered and is crying. People glare at Daddy and at Red. A woman you don’t know snaps harshly at your brother. Daddy grumbles something and his face goes red.  Mama is sitting next to Daddy and Red, leans over to whisper something, then takes Red out. Red doesn’t talk, because Red never talks. But for some reason, these people think that’s funny.

The woman that gets mad at Red for crying just snaps once again. “That kid is eight years old, he shouldn’t be crying.” Mama glares at her, and promises Red he never has to go back.

Not long after, Daddy wakes up early one morning. He doesn’t have his briefcase like he’s going to work. He smiles at you. “Be good Ashton, Daddy loves you.” You don’t really get it, because Daddy says that when he goes to work.  Daddy says it when he goes to the store. Daddy says it all the time. You know Mama and Daddy have been loud, louder than normal, but you just don’t know.

You sit on the swing in the garden that Daddy built you. Red comes out a little bit later and pushes you on the swing gently. He makes sure to hug you when you get off. You know Red can’t talk, but Mama has been teaching you to use the hand shapes that Red does. You do the one for I love you and Red’s smile makes your heart warm.

Mama and Red don’t come to the next pageant your Auntie enrolls you in. Mama smiles sadly and says it’s because Red doesn’t feel good. You know it’s because Red can’t handle the bright lights and loud noises. You’re not mad, after all. Red is Red, and you love your brother.

Auntie and you are alone this time. Auntie grabs some tan puffs from her bag and presses it to your cheeks. She combs some goop in your short short hair, because Auntie doesn’t let you have long hair. You have never had to look like this before. Auntie just smiles. “Your cheeks are darling, sweetheart, but they’re just not perfect. Judges don’t really like that sort of thing. You’ll understand when you’re older.” She presses down your short short hair and reminds you to smile.

Something inside your tummy hurts. “Why can’t Red come?” you ask, and Auntie just shakes her head.

“He’s such a dirty little boy. Doesn’t really care to.”

“What about Daddy?”

“Your daddy sends his love from far away. If you’re good, he’ll come next time.”

Mama and Daddy don’t live together anymore, but you can sometimes hear Mama on the phone with him.  Your auntie promises though, that Daddy will come if you do good. What she means by good, is if you win in first or second place.

You win a trophy and a ribbon. Your aunt is happy, and she takes you to get pizza for dinner.

You are four.

You are four years old and so far, Daddy’s never ever come to one. Red doesn’t come to any. One time, Gary Oak came and brought you a flower. You smiled because usually the girls get flowers, and the boys don’t get nothing like that.  Gary gives you one and says you did really good. He doesn’t understand what it is you’re doing, but you did really good.

Gary understands that you don’t really like this sort of thing. Gary knows that you like games in the pond, and chasing the pokemon at the ranch. Gary and you like to have contests about who can swing the highest, or do flips on the jungle gym. Gary and you play treasure hunter at the beach, and pokemon adventures outside.  Gary and you like to skateboard and ride bikes.

Gary knows that you’re just trying to keep the grownups happy.

One day you and Red are at Mama’s beauty salon. You’ve always wondered what would happen if you got to get your hair cut like Red. You like how Red’s hair fluffs out and he gets to wear a cap sometimes and twist at it. You like how Red looks like a pokemon trainer, like the ones you see leave Gary’s house every April. Red maybe can’t talk, but he still gets excited about how soon he will be a pokemon trainer. You want to be a pokemon trainer too.

You decide to ask Mama if you can please please please cut your hair like Red. Mama’s smile is small as she shakes her head. “You’re a bit too little, sweetie. This is easier to clean after you and Gary come back from your playdates.”

Red, ever the observer, notices that your Mama isn’t telling the entire truth. Gary has pointy spikes and his grandpa never says anything about that. So does Green.  Red just looks at Mama but doesn’t say anything.

Your eyes water when the dumb lady cuts your hair short.

Sometimes when Red doesn’t feel good, you notice he runs off. He always comes back happier and one time you watched him go off to the tall grass where pokemon play. He even told you about it one time, and you too, once found a place where weedles and pidgeys like to crawl on you. You come home with muddy hands and smiles, and Mama just smiles back.

Red is excitedly signing to Mama one day when your auntie picks you up. Mama is going to take Red to get some stuff for his journey, and then they’re going to do fun stuff. You can’t go, because Auntie and you have a pageant. They’re starting to be even worse.

You’ve never liked them. You have never liked dressing up and getting your haircut so short and doing that dance. But you just do it, because Auntie promises you candy, and treats. She promises you toys and treats it like a game. It makes your tummy crawl when you have to get on stage and do that cute little dance. Everyone likes it, and Auntie gets a lot of compliments.

You don’t place in one or two this day. Auntie glares at you and tells you it’s because you’ve got scrapes on your knees and your nails are dirty. She’s already caked your face with that powder to hide your z’s on your cheeks.  She tells you it’s because Red’s put all these stupid ideas in your head about being a trainer.

You tell her you think you wanna be a pokemon trainer one day, too. She looks down at you smugly, and just shakes her head. “Ashton, sweetheart, boys like you aren’t trainers.”

One day you and Gary play camping in the woods, and you think you might like to be.

Red tugs and cries and pulls, but he manages to go to your last pageant before he goes on his journey. He gets all dizzy and he can’t really pay attention, but he’s there. Auntie slaps more of that powder stuff on your face and knees, ripping off the bandaid Red put on. It was a charmander, but she says it’s too distracting.

You go on stage and by now, you know how to gloss your eyes over so that you don’t have to really pay attention. You know these movements like clockwork. You know that Little Ashton is from Pallet Town and that your dance makes everyone giggle.

You place as the winner, and Auntie has the biggest smile on her face as a man comes up to talk to her.

Red leaves for his journey, and you’ve never felt more lonely. Red has always been your big brother, and while you beg and beg and beg to go, you can’t. Mama won’t let you because almost five year olds still need their Mama to fix them breakfast and tie their shoes.

Almost five year olds, however, do not need their Mamas to come with them to auditions to commercials. The big man at the last pageant Red went to? He was an agent for television. He turns little boys and girls into actors and actresses. You don’t get a say if you want too, because a long time ago, you’ve learned that Auntie says yes to anything that will make you look good. Correction, make her look good. Mama goes with it, because if you try and tell Mama how you don’t like it, Auntie gets mad.  You don’t want to make Auntie mad, because then you get yelled at. One time, when you told Red and he told Mama, Auntie found out and got really mad. She took you to a place that is like manners camp, where old ladies yell at you and get mad if you slurp your soup or eat wrong. Then Auntie takes you to a place she calls a treat but it’s not. It’s a place where ladies cut your fingernails so short it hurts and makes them shiny and yucky.

You’re in your car seat going to the studio where little boys and girls are lined up. It’s for cereal, a kind that all kids like to eat. Auntie keeps brushing your hair and telling you nice things. She doesn’t put powder on your face because the agent said not to.

You hear your full name called, and you don’t tell them how you like to be called Ash. Auntie has said Ash isn’t a professional name, and Daddy never liked calling you Ash either. The woman in charge of the commercial tells you to eat the cereal and laugh. You do what is told,  and they smile at you and ask you just a few simple questions.  Auntie’s not around, and so you giggle and tell them answers about your best friend Gary, and how you like sweets. They smile at you and nod, as you go back to your auntie with a smile. She’s dusting your shoulder off when she notices another boy doing the commercial.

Auntie lets out a loud snort and mumbles something. “You’ve got this Ashton, just look at your competition. Boy doesn’t need anymore cereal. Needs exercise is what he needs.”

You don’t get it. Your Auntie just looks at you and sighs. “Ashton, little boys like that aren’t pageant worthy. Remember how I told you all good little boys are pretty and not ugly?”

You nod your head and you feel very very sick.

You get the commercial. You get that one, and a few others. Auntie is so happy that she buys you a new toy and takes you out for pizza. Mama just smiles and asks if you like it. You say it’s kind of fun, and she seems content with that answer. When it airs on tv, Mama tapes it because it’s just so cute.

You are five.

You are five years old when you quit. Mama is at one of your pageants. It’s one of your last pageants.  Mama watches as Auntie puts the powder on your cheeks and knees. She watches with a look that is of concern. She asks just why her little boy’s face is covered up. Auntie just smiles and says it’s this once, and this judge doesn’t like it.

Mama’s seen other photos where your cheeks are powdered and your knees are covered. Mama knows that’s not true, and watches intently as you do your routine. Mama notices that your eyes are blurry and you’re not smiling. She notices how you cry when Auntie pulls out a curling wand and twirls your short hair up.

Mama tells you when you’re leaving that you’re a pretty looking little boy, and that you don’t need other people’s approval. Mama tells you that it’s okay to not like this, and you don’t have to pretend. Mama tells you she’s sorry she didn’t see it. Mama starts to cry because she feels bad.

Auntie is covering your face one more time as Mama comes and wipes it off. They get mad at each other, but Mama says that you’ll do okay anyway with them. That it’s your cute personality, after all. Auntie rolls her eyes, but agrees to leave the powder off. She does, however, use the curling wand on your hair and twirls it up.  She glares at your mama, but doesn’t say anything.

You look at your mama and your auntie. Mama is watching you, and her heart is breaking as she sees you. Auntie is glaring at Mama, and Auntie wants to glare at you. You do your motions just like you’re supposed to, and at the end, you win.

You get the top prize and you look at Mama. Mama has her eyes watering, some other parents thinking it’s happy. It’s not, and you know it’s the same sad Mama had when Red told her Daddy wasn’t going to come home.

Something inside you that day snaps, and you end up feeling like you’ve had enough. You’re tired of this. You’re tired of nice clothes, and short hair. You want to play in the  mud all the time, and play with weedles and pidgeys. You want to be like Red, and travel.

You throw yourself on the floor, and throw the biggest tantrum you can muster.

Mama says the words to Auntie, the words that change your life. “I think Ashy’s done for a while.”

Mama doesn’t make you put on powder. When your hair gets long, Mama allows it. She doesn’t cut it short, and when you want to go to Pokemon Camp, she signs you up. She lets you play, and Auntie doesn’t come over anymore.

Gary and you get dirty in the pond, and swim at the beach. You get dirty and sandy and Mama only makes you take a bath, but nothing more. She washes your hair with warm soap and laughs at how much energy you have. You smile, and Mama takes you to get snowcones and to the carnival with Gary.

You’re almost eight.

You’re almost eight the first time you see the picture. It’s two of them. One, is of you and Red playing on the swing in the garden. Even after Daddy is gone, you love that swing. It makes you happy to play on it, and have adventures.  

The other, is a picture of you and Daddy. He’s sitting close to you while you’re on the swing. He’s smiling at you like you’re his world. You think, maybe, he did love you. You tuck the pictures in your pocket and take them on your journey.

You’re almost twelve when Mama puts all your things from your pageant days in a box. She rids of most of the costumes, and instead keeps just the trophies and ribbons. She shoves all the papers and cards in an envelope, and places the dried flower at the bottom.

You help carry the box to the shed. When Mama leaves, you open the envelope, even though you shouldn’t. You read the letters and cards. Many of them are from Daddy, and he’s talking about all the money you’ve won. He wants Mama to loan him some, that you’re his son too, and he shouldn’t be left out your cash winnings.

He writes how he wants Mama to tell you he loves you. He loves you, and he supports your hobby. Mama writes back and asks if he wants to see you. He doesn’t respond to that, but says he loves you and that it’s unfair he doesn’t get a cut of your winnings.

You feel even sicker.

You’re in Alola when someone you don’t know comments on your face. You don’t say anything, and you know they’re not worth acknowledging. Team Rocket don’t even acknowledge that. You just simply mention how you’ve always had them. But when you get back home, you find Burnet’s powder and messily scrape it over.

She comes home and wipes it off gently, telling you that you’re handsome no matter what some dumb tourist says.

You get home from Alola as champion. Mama supports you, just as she always had. Red would too, you know, but he’s been off on his own journey. Mama greets you with warm hugs and you see a boy come home with warm hair and a red hat. A smile bursts across your face and Red takes you in for a hug. He laughs at how your hair is long and you’ve gotten scruffy. He’s being playfull, but you don’t mind. Your brother is home, and that’s all that matters.

Red decides to cut your hair and style it so you look nice for Gary. Gary Oak, your boyfriend. You’ve been with Gary for a bit now, and he’s honestly the greatest. You love him, and you’re not afraid to admit it. Red just laughs and agrees, and then Mama says you both should watch home movies.

She puts on that tape, and suddenly everything comes whirling back. You understand, suddenly. Suddenly, you understand why the powder was on your face. You understand the demeaning tones. You understand but you don’t. You get that now, now everything is different. You know why you get sick when someone suggests you cut your hair short, or when you’re given make up.

You don’t see it anymore through the eyes of the silly game it was presented as. You don’t see it as boring, with treats. No, you see it as a sick woman who takes pleasure in having a child prance on stage. You see your eyes glossed over like a robot. You hear the cruel things that are supposed to be off camera. You remember the letters from your father, and you don’t like it.

You’re a cash miltank for the money hungry members of your family. You want to be sick.

You take off and you run. You run and run and then you fuck up by saying something to Red and run again. You get sick on yourself, then run again. Suddenly, it all feels like your fault. Red never went, because he couldn’t handle it. Red couldn’t handle seeing his baby brother prance around like a puppet. Red couldn’t handle the mean ladies who’d laugh at him for not talking verbally. Red didn’t go, so Mama would stay home with him. Auntie never told Mama anything she promised.

Daddy wanted your money, not you.

Mama never knew.

Gary listened, and he never laughed.

You feel sick when you hear Red come. Pikachu is stuck in your grip, and he’s pawing and crying. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, and neither do you. You’ve just unlocked everything you’ve never understood. You’ve just unlocked everything you wanted to bury.

Why did you keep that dumb photo?

It’s rained a bit and you look in the puddle at your reflection. Your hair is a mess from how much you’ve run fingers through it. Your face is scratched right over your birth marks, like you’re trying to claw them off.  Your eyes are bloodshot.

You feel sick.

Red comes over and the first thing he does is pull you to a hug. Your voice is raw, hoarse. You feel even sicker and Red just remains quiet. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. You repeat the words over and over and over.

You’ve unlocked the trauma, and nothing will ever be the same.

[sterekloving]

If you’re new to the fandom or just want something new to read or even reread an old classic, here’s the most popular and iconic fics in the fandom!

(Those with a * are my all time favourites - if you want me to do a personal fave ficrec, let me know!)

Alpha Spikes* -  thestarbeast - 70k+ - Explicit

AU. Alphas are like royalty and are offered their choice of any age eighteen-and-up virgin Omega for each heat season, as a 'thank-you' for all they've done throughout the year. Derek is an Alpha and...yeah, Stiles. Stiles is an Omega. And still a virgin. In every way. And he's just turned eighteen. This...is not his day.

Bones Straining Under the Weight* -  weathervaanes - 15k - Explicit

One of Stiles' favorite things about life is Derek Hale's food blog. He never expects to meet the man in person.

“Derek,” he says again, and the name feels very strange on his tongue.

“You don’t mean Derek Hale.”

His professor’s eyebrows reach up, eyes widening. “You read his blog?”

"Uh. Worship. Would be a better more descriptive word. That is Derek Hale?"

Jimmy chuckles. "Good-looking guy, huh?"

"You mean to tell me the Food Network hasn't snatched him up to dethrone everyone else from daytime TV."

Jimmy smiles a small private smile. "I don't think TV is his medium."

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Shy?"

The man laughs heartily at that. "No, I wouldn't say that. He just has particular forms of expression, like eyebrows and chili powder."

By Any Other Name -  entanglednow - 33k - Explicit

He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

Can’t Be Hateful, Gotta Be Grateful -  HalfFizzbin - 6k - Teen

"Be cool, Dad, we've decided to con Grandma." (Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's and she gets the right wrong idea.)

Cornerstone* -  Vendelin - 83k - Explicit

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

Cupboard Love -  mklutz - 30k+ - General

He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain. If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.

Dating Backwards* - RemainNameless - 85k - Explicit

Pornstars Derek and Stiles work for the same company. Derek only shoots with werewolves and Stiles only shoots with humans. That's not going to change after they meet. It's really not. (It might.)

DILF* -  twentysomething - 30k+ - Explicit

"Today is Scott's first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified."

Divided We Stand* -  KouriArashi - 100k+ - Mature

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of....

Don’t Savage The Messenger* -  exclamation - 172k - Explicit

There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange.

Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters' stories would have him believe.

Don’t Worry Baby -  kalpurna - 20k - Explicit

"You know you're allowed to ask for vanilla sex, right?" he says, afterwards. "We can do whatever you want. That's kind of the point." Derek doesn't respond.

Dude, Werewolves -  mysecretashes - 29k - Explicit

Stiles gets partnered with Cora for a history project, and they become bros. Also, he kind of falls in love with her older brother, Derek.

Electricity In the Contact -  ladyblahblah - 27k - Explicit

In which Derek has been invited to the Greater Pacific Northwest Alpha Symposium (that's not what it's called, Stiles, stop saying that), and showing up unattached would mean an arranged marriage. When the rest of the pack objects, he agrees to let Stiles come along to pose as his mate. Derek is reasonably sure that he's not going to make it out of this weekend alive.

Enemy Lines* -  qhuinn - 149k - Explicit

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

Every Step You Take -  Nokomis - 49k - Mature

Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super.

Fireman Derek’s Crazy Pie (Cheeseburger Baby) -  owlpostagain - 17k - Teen

“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible." Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.

"Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

Gravity’s Got Nothing on You* -  zosofi - 83k - Explicit

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so… “How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

Hemingway Can Suck It -  KuriKuri - 10k - Teen

“For those of you who just transferred into this class or simply decided that day one wasn’t important enough to attend, I’m Professor Hale. Welcome to English 346, The American Novel.”

Stiles is pretty sure his mouth is hanging open right now and that his eyes are wide with shock, because holy fuck, he thinks he knows why his students transferred. Hell, if he was still an undergrad, he probably would have transferred, too.

(Or: In which Stiles is a Biology professor and Derek thinks he's a student.)

Integral to Survival -  asocialfauxpas - 8k - Mature

Derek is in the cell for about ten minutes before the lone door opens and a new body is tossed in. The person hits the floor with a grunt, rolls, and stands as the door is clanging shut. “That’s really not the way to treat a guest!”

Just Act Normal -  zosofi - 70k+ - Explicit

If someone had told Stiles back in high school that he would be an Oscar winning actor by the time he turned 25, he would’ve probably told Scott to punch them. The thing is, though…they would’ve been right. Which makes returning to Beacon Hills, center of all that is supernatural and better left avoided, all the more awkward.

Kaleidoscope* -  Vendelin - 50k+ - Explicit 

Stiles spends a year before college working at the all-night coffee shop in town. It's nice and quiet, until one dark and brooding Derek starts coming in every morning, ordering coffee so strong that it should not be fit for human consumption. Ever. Stiles tries not to be affected by the mystery guy, but it's not like anything else happens around here, so really, what did you expect? And when he's already in too deep, he realises he might even be in way over his head...

Little Wild Animal* - DiscontentedWinter - 61k - Explicit

Derek Hale finds a feral human on his pack's property. Humans are supposed to be extinct. But then, Stiles is full of surprises.

Lock All The Doors Behind You -  entanglednow - 25k+ - Mature

He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

Losers -  stilinskisparkles - 30k+ - Explicit

Where Derek is new to college, eager to spend his time learning, and Stiles is everything he didn't want in a room mate. He's loud, he's into sports, and he keeps trying to make Derek do things. Or, the one where Derek falls for a jock, Erica will cut you if you disturb her studying, and Jackson is a closeted romantic who pretends to hate everything.

Move a Mountain* -  ZainClaw - 69k - Explicit

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

No Homo* -  RemainNameless - 80k+ - Explicit

Stiles' sophomore year starts something like this: 3 FourLokos + 1 peer-pressuring cat - 1 best bro to end all best bros = 1 Craigslist ad headline that reads "str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic". Derek is the fool who replies.

Our Lives Are Changing Lanes* -  grimm - 47k - Explicit

There's a lot of screaming going on inside the first house Stiles visits. He isn't really worried, because it sounds like kids, but then the door opens and hi, says his dick, because the dude in front of him is gorgeous, built like a god with a face like thunder. Stiles wants to lick that solid jaw line. Hold the fuck on, says his cop brain, because the dude's got kids hanging all over him; one's on his back, skinny legs looped around his waist, and another two hanging off one arm, toes barely brushing the ground. There's a tubby toddler clinging to his leg like a koala, and he's got a baby tucked into the crook of the one arm that doesn’t have kids hanging off it. Stiles' mouth drops open.

"How many of those kids did you kidnap?" he asks before he can wrangle his brain into submission.

The man gives him a look that says what the fuck is wrong with you and snaps, "You think I'd subject myself to this on purpose?"

"Oooh," says one of the kids hanging off his arm. "I'm telling Mom."

Permanent Fixture* -  linksofmemories - 80k+ = Explicit

Derek is Scott's older brother. Stiles is Scott's best friend. Derek is falling in love with Stiles. This is a bit of a problem.

Practice Makes Perfect -  blacktofade - 21k - Explicit

In his sophomore year, Stiles gets dragged to lacrosse tryouts by Scott and ends up practising alongside the senior captain, Derek Hale. Stiles just wants to live long enough to become a junior.

Prince Among Wolves* -  tylerfucklin - 100k - Explicit

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.

Salty Sweet - secondstar - 40k+ - Explicit

Derek works at a porn store. One day, Stiles comes in asking all sorts of TMI questions about different toys. That's where it all starts.

Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways -  hologramophone - 7k - Teen

“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!” Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress. Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.” (Otherwise known as the Elevator AU)

The Company I Keep* -  secondstar - 67k - Explicit

Stiles has a favorite table at the library. Then some asshole comes along and steals it from him.

There is a Brotherhood* -  minusoneday - 21k - Explicit

So far, college has taught Stiles three things:

1) Eight am classes are cruel and unusual and should be avoided at all costs, even if it means having to enroll in something truly hideous instead, like Econ 101.

2) Dorm security is just as tight as Stiles’ orientation leader had promised it would be, and the dude guarding Scott’s dorm in particular does not respond well to bribes.

3) Mrs. McCall clearly had no clue what she was talking about when she’d insisted that Scott and Stiles needed to branch out and room with strangers, so it’s all her fault that Scott ended up with a total dick of a roommate and Stiles got stuck all the way across campus with some guy who has a girlfriend two towns over and is thus never around.

Or, the one where pledge brothers Stiles and Scott start a prank war with Derek Hale's fraternity.

There’s Monsters At Home -  calrissian18 - 80k+ - Explicit

“How did you get past the wards?” Derek had put them up, with Peter’s grudging assistance, after the Alpha pack had made themselves at home a few times too many. The guy pulled a face. “You mean the wards a five-year-old girl with the mental ability of a goldfish could deconstruct?” He blinked wide eyes at Derek. “Gee, I don’t know. It’s bound to go down as one of life’s great mysteries.” Derek despised him.

Tiny Houses* -  ohmyjetsabel - 77k - Explicit

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

Versus* -  secondstar - 90k+ - Explicit

At age nineteen, Stiles Stilinski was the next big thing, according to The Guardian. It was surreal, not being able to turn on Sky Sports without hearing his name mentioned along with the names of players he grew up idolizing. Stiles couldn’t believe that this was his life.

Windows* -  dr_girlfriend - 83k - Explicit

Derek has a new neighbor who won't stop looking. 

Excerpt: “You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails. 

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.” 

“Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered. 

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —” 

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.” 

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

What I Did On My Summer Vacation -  grimm - 118k - Explicit

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

[xcamay]

Special edition! #1 - Kisses. (1/?)

Hi everyone! :3 Let me present you a bunch of ficlets related to my new AU, Aqours as parents! [others are coming soon ...]

(I forgot to mention that in this AU just like almost all my other AUs and fics, two girls can have a baby together, just like a boy and girl can have one. Because .. It's magic! And it's pure love! I hope it doesn't bother anyone btw...)

Neck kiss. [→ NSFW] Thursday, January 1st 2026

Mari took up the challenge for New Year's Day, again, promising her old friends that the party was going to be wild and shiny. And, for the tenth time Aqours decided to celebrate New Year together, as a group and as best friends, Mari did succeed : the evening was wild and shiny. The music was great and rousing ; the buffet was incredible, some dishes were even new for most of them and exotic ; and Aqours was still as lively as ever, which resulted in so many fits of laughter, in dance challenges and in never-ending conversations. As usual, they spent an amazing evening, and each committed couple came back home around 4AM.

But the night is still young, and dawn is not ready to rear its head.

"Y-You-chan ..." Riko murmurs, her hands lost in her wife's already disheveled hair.

You lightly hums in return, her mouth clamped around Riko's hardened nipple, as she lets her tongue roam all over it, causing the musician to suck in a sharp breath. Electric waves flow through Riko's entire body, making her shiver. It is all because of this expert tongue, but also because of this knee placed between her legs, which is tirelessly rubbing this specific spot ... And it is driving her crazy.

"You-chan," Riko huskily calls -and she smiles when You finally raises her head, with that small angelic grin of hers.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

"No." The red haired woman shakes her head, her left hand now placed on You's cheek -and another smile paints her lips when she instantly spots her wedding ring. "I ... I just want you to kiss me."

A soft chuckle escapes You's lips at this, but she doesn't have to hear it twice. As she lowers her head and brushes her lips against Riko's, she whispers, "Needy tonight, aren't you?"

"Hush," Riko quickly retorts, her back arching ever so slightly as You presses her knee even more between her legs.

Riko muffles a gasp as she traps You's lips with her own, finally obtaining the kiss she was craving. Their smiles instantly grow wider, and their tongues soon brush each other, performing a sensual dance. The fiery kiss lasts for a few long seconds and, as You reluctantly breaks it and starts sitting up straight, Riko lets out a whine, her hands quickly grabbing her wife's shoulders.

"No ... Stay."

"I'm not going anywhere, Riko-chan you silly," You gently laughs, planting a quick peck on her lips. "I just want to take off–" her hands hurriedly grab her panties, and she tosses them aside "–that."

That. The last article of clothing which was just waiting for that ; being carelessly thrown onto the floor.

"You-chan ..." Riko shakily breathes. She instinctively tilts her head on the side the moment You attacks her neck, her hot breaths tickling her at first.

"Riko-chan–" You kisses her pulsating point "–we're going to have this baby–" she plants a few other kisses after gently nipping at some spots, as if she was healing them "– I promise."

In the meantime, one of You's hands has found its way between Riko's legs, causing the pianist's muscles to tense up and her back to arch. She whispers her lover's name, one hand clawing at the back of You's head, as she feels the beginning of a smile against the sensitive skin in her neck. It is when You slips two fingers inside her that her mind goes blank, and Riko instantly gives in to the carnal pleasure.

Happy kiss. Wednesday, July 8th 2026

"Oh my," Shima said, the palm of her hand resting on her cheek, pensive, "It does sound like implantation bleeding."

"Implantation ... Bleeding?" Chika repeated, puzzled.

"Yes. It's part of the early signs of pregnancy, but it's less common than nauseas or tiredness."

"Ohoh," Mito piped in, a teasing smirk paiting her lips. "It seems like Baka Chika did a lot of unprotected hanky-pankies with Kanan~"

"S-stop that!" Chika furiously blushed, pushing one of her big sisters' face away. "I'm sure it's because I'm going to have my period!"

"But you did say that it stopped the day after, and that it was a light bleeding," Shima remarked, her finger tapping her chin. "How many days have passed since you lightly bled?"

"A week ..."

"Don't you think you should have had your period now, after one week?"

Chika never replied to her sister, as she was already running for the nearest supermarket, totally freaked out.

"This is nonsense ..." Chika mutters as she puts her shorts back on, not even thinking of pulling up the zipper.

The young woman grabs the rim of the washstand, shoots a glance at her reflection in the mirror, and deeply sighs. She waits a little bit, swinging on her feet, before looking at the watch. They said to wait a few minutes before checking the result ...

"It's been more than two minutes, I can check, can't I?" She muses, before extending a shaky hand toward the item she'd turned upside down a few minutes ago.

Not even a second after, Kanan jumps with surprise as her ginger haired lover darts into the living room, a deep scowl on her face. Chika looks dreadfully mad, and it is certainly the first time that Kanan cowers in front of her.

"Um, sweetheart, you–"

"IT'S WRONG!" Chika suddenly screams, making Kanan flinch. "GET ME ANOTHER ONE!"

"What–"

Kanan can't say anything else, freezing the moment Chika throws a pinkish stick right in her face.

"GET ME ANOTHER ONE KANAN-CHAN!" she demands once again, stomping her foot onto the floor.

Kanan rubs her forehead, lightly groaning, and takes a look at the stick. She raises an eyebrow before her amethyst eyes land on the girl in front of her. "Chika, this pregnancy test ... It's positive, isn't it?"

"GO BUY ME OTHER ONES!"

"Ok ok," Kanan quickly says as she hurriedly reaches the front door, grabbing her dark blue purse at the same time. "I'm going!"

Once her blue haired lover has left, Chika returns to the bathroom, her heart thundering. She turns the water on, deeply inhales, and splashes her face with cold water.

"It can't be ..."

She soon gets lost in her thoughts, still shaken up by the recent news, her mind filled with what could happen if she really is pregnant ; yes, what could happen. What it implies, too. The impact it's going to have on her finances, on her life in general ... But also on her life with Kanan.

If she really is pregnant, it means that there will be a little human growing up in their own cosy nest, a bundle of joy relying on Kanan and her all the time. It means cries in the middle of the night the first few months and toys and diapers everywhere. It means spitting up and drool on her clothes all the time, and boo boos, and spikes of fever when it's time for teething. It means that they have to entirely secure the house. It means fright each time he or she will approach the oven or the gas stove ; when he or she will run everywhere and brush past pots, curtains, furniture ; when he or she will try to go up or down the stairs ...

But if she really is pregnant, it also means other things. It means ... It means that Kanan and her will be here for all their little bundle of joy's first times. His or her first smile. His or her first peal of laughter. His or her first words. His or her first steps. It also means that they will be proud to introduce their newborn to the world ; that they will be proud each time someone will say "Oh, look at this adorable sweetheart!" or "This baby is so cute!" ; that they will be proud of the apple of their eye, in general. It means hugs and cuddles, whether it be in the morning or before going to bed, or once Kanan or Chika herself has picked him or her up from the daycare center. It means sweet and warm and reassuring kisses, to say hello or goodbye or goodnight, or after baby has been scared by something or got hurt. It means encouragements each time he or she is about to do something great for the first time in his or her entire life, but also laughters after some tickle attacks or funny things babies can do without even wanting it ... And it means bedtime stories, and funny games, and new discoveries, and–

"Chika?" Kanan's voice suddenly snaps the ginger out of her reverie, and the latter quickly opens the door, finding herself face to face with the blue haired girl and two rectangular boxes. "I took these, I hope it's ok–"

"It is!" Chika hurriedly grabs them, before slamming the door in Kanan's face, who only blinks twice.

"Alright ..."

And Kanan can do nothing except wait for Chika to use the pregnancy tests again. She doesn't even think of cooking or watching TV to pass the time, and just impatiently taps her foot on the floor, her arms crossed above her chest. After less than ten agonizing minutes, Kanan's head perks up as she hears a few shaky and shuddering breaths coming from behind the door. She instantly knocks on it, calling her name, worried.

"K-Kanan-chan ..." Chika finally opens the door, and Kanan sucks in a surprised breath when she notices that her crimson eyes are glistening with tears.

"Chika– oof!"

And, as Chika tackles her lover into a bear-crushing hug, she ecstatically yells, "I'm pregnant!"

She starts laughing and grabs Kanan's hands, tightly, making the two of them spin in the corridor. "I'm pregnant Kanan-chan, I'm pregnant~" she singsongs, before crashing her lips onto Kanan's, happily.

Kanan wraps her arms around the future mother's waist, bringing her closer, pressing their lips together even more. Chika is still giggling against her mouth, almost breathlessly, and Kanan can swear that she has never seen the bubbly girl as happy as that.

"Chika ..." She tenderly smiles, her thumb stroking the ginger's cheek.

"We're going to have a baby, Kanan-chan!"

As an answer, Kanan only tightens her grip around Chika and showers her face and neck with soft, messy and quick kisses. The latter bursts into laughter, but still hugs Kanan back, not even trying to get away from this vicious embrace.

"Kanan-chan, stop that~"

And she does, giving Chika's lips one last, loving kiss.

"You scared me for a moment, though," she says when their lips slightly part. Chika's ruby eyes slowly flutter open at this, curiosity veiling them. "I thought you didn't want to be pregnant."

Chika sheepishly chuckles, scratching the back of her neck. "You know that I'm sometimes bad at dealing with sudden and big news like that ... I wasn't expecting it and I freaked out for a moment, it seems so crazy after all Kanan-chan! I have a baby inside me, no wait– I have our baby inside me, it's just–"

"I love you," Kanan interrupts her, brushing her bangs aside and planting a new kiss on Chika's soft skin.

"We should tell the others!" Chika excitedly squeals. "We have to call You-chan and Riko-chan, and Mari-chan, and–"

"Wait, Chika." Kanan is quick to detain her dynamic girlfriend by the hand, drawing her closer again. "We should wait a little bit, for Dia and Mari at least."

"What, why? They're your best friends, they're going to be our baby's aunties, they have to know!"

"Chika." Kanan rests her hands on her shoulders, as if to hold her in place. "I know that, and I really want Dia and Mari to know about all this but ... They've been trying for years now."

"Oh ... Right ..." Chika's smile wavers and drops as she remembers this small detail.

"Let's just wait a little bit before announcing it," Kanan pulls Chika into a hug, one hand instinctively slipping under the ginger haired girl's tank top and resting on her lower abdomen. "We'll go see the doctor this weekend to see for how long you've been pregnant first, mh?"

Chika eagerly nods her head, arms wrapped around her amethyst eyed lover.

"We're going to be two incredible Mamas, Kanan-chan!~"

Belly kiss. Sunday, February 21st 2027

"Riko-chan, I found it!"

Riko looks up from the book she was reading the moment You's cheerful voice fills the living room. She slowly closes it and wedges it between the two big cushions she's resting against, before smiling when her ashen haired wife plops down next to her, with another book. It is a pinkish one this time, with the big title writing in a girly manner : 'A sweet name for the sweetest baby girl'. As Riko briefly reads that, she lets one hand draw circles on her rounded belly.

"Where was it?" She curiously asks, her head soon finding refuge on You's shoulder as the latter sluches into the cushions.

"At the back of my nightstand. I forgot I put it here last time," You sheepishly laughs, before resting her head against Riko's, opening the book right on the contents page. "So ... They sorted the names per category, uh ..." She glances at her wife's beautiful tummy, extending her hand and tickling its side. "Wakey wakey, Tootsie~ Mommy and Mama want you to hear your future name–"

"If we find it," Riko butts in, her fingertips turning around her belly button.

"We'll find it, Riko-chan!" You widely beams at her wife, before exclaiming, "Oh, she's waking up!"

"I know." A tender smile graces Riko's features as she feels their little girl slowly moving inside her.

Soon, a small lump forms under Riko's fingers, before it moves toward the spot that You is currently tickling.

"Good afternoon, sleepyhead," You greets their unborn baby girl, leaning over and rubbing her nose on the bump. "Mommy and I are about to give you the best name ever, so you better hear that! The best name for the best little girl ever~"

She places another kiss on Riko's beautifully swollen belly, right before the latter's fond amber eyes. It takes them almost ten minutes to stop babbling and cooing to their sweetheart, finally paying attention to the book again. They both skim the first pages, returning to their previous position with Riko's head resting on her wife's shoulder.

"Mmh," You slowly hums as she places one foot on the coffee table, cracking her ankle, "Oh, here. What about Haruka, Riko-chan?"

The answer is almost immediate :

"Too common."

You glances at her lover, surprised, but keeps reading the page nonetheless. "Alright ... What about Sakura, then? That's a sweet name."

Riko shuffles even closer, the side of her tummy gently colliding with You's hip. "It's sweet, yes, but it's just like Haruka, too common. We see and hear it everywhere, You-chan ... I don't want my daughter to have the same name as four of her future classmates."

"You have a point, Riko-chan."

The names come one after another, and the swimmer ends up sighing each time.

"What about Asa?"

"What the heck, isn't it an old name?"

"I guess that's a no. What about Shiko?"

"I don't like it."

"Mh ... And Kanta?"

"I've never heard of this name."

"... And?"

"No."

"... ... Ok ... And, oh, look! It's cute! What about this one?"

"Ucchi? No."

"Mou, Riko-chan, you're picky!"

"You-chan, we're about to choose the name of our baby. It's really important." Riko's amber eyes are deadly serious as she says that. "She's going to have it from beginning to end. We're going to call her like that all the time, during her entire life, just like her friends and her lover. And her teachers, too. Her friends are going to give her nicknames related to her name, and all. It's ... It's vital. We have to give her the best name ever."

"I know th–"

"So no," Riko goes on, "I don't want her to be called Sakura or Ai or Mei or Yui, because those are names which are too common. I don't want an old name like Kogō for our daughter either."

"I got it, I got it. You want the perfect name. And I want that too!" You smiles and nuzzles her lover's crimson hair, before placing a soft kiss on the same spot. "Then, what if you look at the book and pick the ones you like?"

Riko only hums, gently taking the book from her lover's hands and using the curve of her belly as a support. She turns the page, silently reading the names and then their description, origin and meaning -if they interest her. You's smile never leaves her face as she stares fondly at the pregnant woman next to her, and it even grows wider each time she notices the cute crease between Riko's eyebrows each time she unconsciously frowns. When she reads, Riko's face always ends up being very expressive : either she presses her lips hard or bites them, or she raises an eyebrow in surprise or frowns and shakes her head when she's not fine with whatever is happening in the book, or she wrinkles her nose or, on the contrary, a small but adorable smile paints her lips, ...

It's like Riko is reading her the entire story, without saying anything.

And it never fails to make You lovingly grin. She got to know all this after so many calm nights spent together, in their comfy bed. Riko has always loved reading, and she often does so before going to bed, when the two of them don't feel too sleepy, or when they're not tangled in the sheets in one of the most passionate embraces ever.

"... -chan? You-chan?"

You blinks several times as she hears her name, her sapphire eyes landing on Riko's curious amber ones.

"Ah, sorry sorry, I was lost in my thoughts!"

"I saw that." A gentle smile finds its way on Riko's lips, before she glances at the book still resting on her belly. "I was saying, what about Risa? I like this name."

You seems to ponder this for a few seconds, but shakes her head, which makes Riko pout. "No ... It's one of my cousins' name."

"Oh, right. Then, um ... Shiki?" Riko looks at You, before they both shake their head at the same time. "It sounds too childish."

"Yeah. Another one?"

The dark crimson haired musician hums lightly again, swiftly turning a page.

"Oh! Suzuko, I like it!"

You raises an eyebrow. "Not me."

Riko slides a frustrated hand through her long strands, heaving a sigh, "It's going to be too complicated, we're not on the same wavelength."

"Hey, don't say that! We'll be when we find the perfect name!"

"Why did Chika-chan and Kanan-san choose Anju first, it's such a cute name," Riko growls as she leans her head back on the big cushion behind her. "We'll ask them for advice if we're too desperate ..."

You takes advantage of this new position and shuffles closer, tucking her head into the angle of her wife's neck. She chuckles and nods, before lazily pointing at the last name on this page.

"Rio ..." She half-reads, half-yawns, before placing a hand in front of her mouth. "Wait."

She shifts her position again, finally sitting up, and the two lovebirds share a glance, before uttering the same syllable at the same time :

"No."

You laughs as she adds, "It sounds too much like Riko!"

A chuckle leaves Riko's mouth as she closes the book, throwing it onto the coffee table. She then stretches and whines a little, hands placed on her belly, "Oh my baby girl, we're not ready to find you a name!"

"Daijobu." You nuzzles Riko's cheek before leaning toward the round tummy, her lips already on the tight skin. "Have a good nap, dear princess. Mama is going to make Mommy relax a little, so she won't be too worried about all this name thing!"

Overjoyed kiss. Thursday, February 25th 2027

After stirring the breaded chicken, the dashi, the mirin, the onions and even the soy sauce in the wok, Mari brings the wooden spoon to her lips and tastes the still-stewing dish. She hums, unconsciously moving her head and tapping her foot on the white tiles, as her small purple speaker blasts the first notes of one of her favorite metal songs in the kitchen.

"Now, the eggs," she mutters to herself, grabbing the bowl with the two beaten eggs in it.

She pours them in the wok, stirring again, before a buzzing sound catches her attention. She looks at her phone, the screen displaying a new text -and a smile automatically brightens her face.

'I made a quick detour, I'm sorry, but I'll be here soon.'

Mari grins as she types back, 'No need to worry hon~ I'm waiting for you~', before sending it. She then takes the speaker, waits for the song to finish -it's one of her favorites, after all!- and turns it off. She knows it's going to both annoy and weary her soon-to-be-wife if she comes back home and is only greeted by one of those 'aggressive things'. She chuckles as she remembers that ; Dia used to describe Mari's fave songs like that a lot during college, when she was unexpectedly dropping by her place. It only became worst when they moved in together -much to Mari's amusement, as Dia always makes this cute surly and snobbish expression each time she hears metal tunes.

The young woman's ears perk up when she hears the door open, and her smile instantly widens.

"Dia~," she squeals, rushing into the corridor and instantly throwing herself into Dia's arms, nuzzling her chest -a bad habit of hers. "You're here, darling!"

"Mari, not now," Dia says through gritted teeth, pushing on the blonde's shoulders to push her away.

"Eh?" Mari blinks as she straightens up, completely astounded by this reaction. "What's wrong?"

But Dia has already slammed and locked the restroom door, leaving a stunned Mari in the corridor. Alright, Dia does not like when her girlfriend shows up out of the blue and pulls her into a tight hug only to bury her face into her chest. Mari knows that. But Dia has never -never- repulsed her like that. Not even when she felt too sick or when she really wanted to go to the bathroom after a long day at work ... Something is wrong, definitely.

"Dia?" Mari hesitantly approaches the door, placing a hand on it as if it was Dia's arm or face. She even glues her ear against it, trying to hear if Dia is sobbing ...

But she flinches and steps back when Dia roars, "Leave me alone! I need to do something!"

"Uh ... Do you feel ill?"

"Mari."

Dia's voice sounds so pleading that Mari doesn't have any other choice and obliges.

"Fine. But call me if you need anything, alright?"

Hearing a muffled 'yes', Mari nods -even if Dia can't see it- and returns to the kitchen, keeping a close eye on the katsudon in preparation. She instinctively grabs the wooden spoon from earlier and fiddles with it, worry starting to gnaw at her. Dia isn't fine. The only times she acted so distant were when they were t–

No.

Dia promised her she would stop thinking about that ; and Mari promised the same thing in return.

She heaves a deep sigh and looks at the utensil in her hands, almost indifferently. No, she is mostly lost in her thoughts and–

"MARI!" Dia's screeching voice snaps her out of her reverie. "MARI!"

Aside from being screeching, Dia's voice sounds strangled, filled with tears and sobs, which makes Mari run to the restroom without even thinking first. She is about to force the door open, too worried, but Dia unlocks it, causing her to freeze for a split second. It's not only the surprise of the door opening before she can do something that strikes her ... But the tears flowing on her fiancée's face.

"Dia ..." Mari's hands automatically cup the brunette's cheeks, brushing the tears away with her thumbs. Her voice drops in a whisper, "What's wrong, did something–"

"Mari," she interrupts her, choking on another sob while leaning in Mari's frail -almost shaky- touch. "I ... I-I'm pregnant ..."

Everything around Mari seems to stand still for a few seconds as she proceeds the information. She can only hear her heart thumping in her chest, resonating in her entire body, while her mind keeps repeating Dia's words. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. Some simple words, but with a strong meaning behind. It is even more intense for the two of them, Mari thinks, as they suggested having a baby two years ago.

... Two years ago.

"M-Mari ..." Dia amost whimpers, not expecting Mari to be as silent as that. "Please–" the imploring tone makes Mari blink "–please Mari, say something ... We've been waiting for this to happen for so long ..."

It was so sudden, impromptu, and even unforeseeable -because yes, Mari pushed aside the idea of having a baby a few months ago- that she doesn't know how to properly react. After all ... She gave up. As much as she hated that, she gave up on having a baby with the love of her life -because it was impossible ; Dia wasn't supposed to become pregnant ... not after all those unsuccessful attempts, not after all those tears and screams and fights. At a loss for words, the blonde only tries to blink her forming tears away, before pulling Dia into a strong embrace. She tucks her chin on the top of Dia's head, hugging her even tighter, as the brunette bursts into tears.

It is the second time in her entire life that someone (Dia) has rendered her speechless. The first time was ... In her spacious king-sized bed, in the huge room her father saved for her in his brand new resort hotel in Uchiura. Dia was naked, right under her, her dark and silky hair spread out all over the comfy pillows. On that night, the Kurosawa heiress was beautiful -and she was Mari's, and only Mari's.

This is the second time Dia has shut her up. And it's one of the first few times Mari's tears are freely and endlessly flowing. Tears of relief ... But tears of happiness mostly.

"I-is ... ... F-for real ...?" Mari shakily breathes in Dia's hair, one of her hands bringing the latter even closer while the other tenderly strokes these dark locks.

Dia wordlessly nods her head, giving a quick sniffle before raising her head. Watery turquoise eyes land on golden ones and, as she grips her future wife's shirt, Dia flutters them close.

No words need to be said, and Mari mimics her, before locking their lips in a gentle kiss ... Which quickly escalates, soft breaths and sighs blending together.

"I think we deserve a chocolate pudding tonight," the blonde murmurs against her lover's lips, their eyes slowly opening.

Dia's smile has never been so blinding and enthralling to Mari's eyes, and the latter can't help but capture these beaming lips again, with more fervor.

Happy belated birthday to Chika (with this happy event) and Honoka! Even if our hyperactive ginger baby isn’t here ... For now. c: (Just a last message to tell you that I certainly won’t post anything before September, I’m going to be busy in August but I’ll do my best to write as much as I can in the evenings and maybe when my nephew is napping!)

See you, guys~ I hope you liked those ficlets!