#cried even harder when he realizes that means he'll never get to go to the eras tour

[allstarsallign3d]

Chat , N is a swiftie and there is no room for argument. If you disagree you are either in denial or a hater. This man BOPS to Vigilante Shit and Don't Blame Me.

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

Oh man, okay so that Peter snatching ask, I feel like I neeeed more of that. How would Tony even explain Pyrite!Peter’s new situation to him? Would he even tell Pyrite Peter about DB!Peter? Aksdkfniend I don’t know if you want to go more into detail about this because it’s technically not a fic of yours so feel free to ignore this ask if this isn’t the direction you want to go with these, I’m just infinitely curious about the scenario written in that ask and figured it didn’t hurt to shoot my shot here, so to speak.

[[in reference to this ask and then this ask-- not only did it not hurt to shoot your shot, I wrote a whole-ass fic about it, lmao. CWs for abduction/long-term captivity, gentle noncon and general very 💖loving and tender💖 emotional abuse, and all of the psychological trauma that goes with it-- but there's a hopeful ending! (Also, daddykink, which I can apparently only tolerate if one of the characters in question hates it, lmao.)]]

This older Tony told him that he was picked because he's special, but Peter isn't stupid. In the brief glimpse he was allowed to see of the other Peters out there on that monitor, he noticed that most of them were older. Stronger. Actually special.

And he sees the way that this Tony looks at him. Peter wouldn't have noticed it before, probably, but it was the same expression that his brother wore when they were… together. Dark, heated, focused. Peter had loved the attention from his brother, but it scares him from this man. He's constantly on edge, waiting for the moment that petting hands or a tender kiss might slip somewhere unbearable, like being prepared will somehow give him a way to stop it.

He knows it won't, of course. He knows he can't.

He can't stop anything.

This Tony wants Peter to call him 'Dad.' Peter tries to protest, tries to say that he already has a dad, that it's strange when his own Tony is his brother instead. But Tony insists– says that he'll be a better father to Peter than Howard Stark ever was, that Peter doesn't need a brother when he has a father like Tony instead, that his brother was never any good to him anyway.

It makes Peter regret every single time he's ever complained about his dad and every single time he ever felt ignored by his brother, and he tells Tony that, that he loves his family even if they're not perfect and he misses his mom and that he wants to go home.

But this Tony doesn't care about his tears, and Peter is afraid of him, so Tony gets his way.

That's always how it goes. Peter cries, he begs, he asks to go home. When he's at his most desperate and selfish and awful, he asks for Tony to take someone else instead. And Tony holds him and pets him and coos and hums and murmurs that everything will be okay, and he just needs time to adjust, and that he's perfect. That Tony could never let him go.

Peter knows that he means it, and Tony never seems to realize that it only makes him cry harder. But in the end Peter always ends up leaning heavily into his arms, sniffling and exhausted and cried-out, so maybe it's his fault for sending mixed messages.

He does try to make the best of it, after all. He knows it makes him a coward, and that he should fight and scream and try to make this Tony's life hell until he does give Peter up, like rehoming a bad dog. But he can't, because he's not brave, so instead he sets the table and makes suggestions for dinner and smiles at Tony's jokes and picks out movies to watch from under the arm of this man who is not his father and not his brother but who he still calls 'Dad.'

"Good choice, baby," Tony says with a smile when Peter picks out Die Hard for movie night, and Peter hates the warm, pathetic glow of satisfaction that swells in his chest at the praise. But it's better than being scared, so Peter will take it, even if it makes him feel just as cheap and slimy as the actual sex.

It doesn't take long for that to start, though it's longer than Peter expects. A few weeks, maybe, though Peter's sense of time isn't great anymore. Tony had already slipped into his bed even as early as that first night, with the excuse of comforting Peter while he cried– "oh, sweetheart, don't cry, you'll be okay," he'd crooned, pressing kisses to Peter's hair while he flinched, "you'll love it here, you'll see,"– but then he never stopped, even once Peter stopped crying himself to sleep.

So one morning it happens, inevitable. Tony's wrist brushes too low when he's untangling himself from Peter as they wake, and Peter can't bite back his gasp at the pressure against his morning wood, and before he knows it there's a hand around him and lips against his neck and a warm, morning-rough voice muttering, "Let me take care of that for you, sweetheart."

Peter tries to stop it. He does. He does.

But when he gasps, "Dad, wait, please stop," Tony only murmurs, "Shh, relax, honey," and in the end it's like everything else.

Tony is always gentle with him. It's a strange contrast to his brother, who called him filthy things and teased him until he was so red he thought he might pass out and could be rough with him when Peter asked for it. Peter liked that, yeah, but he had always wished that his brother would kiss him sweetly and tell him he loved him, too.

It's disorienting to have those daydreams come to life in the form of this other, twisted version of his brother. Peter tries to close his eyes as Tony moves inside him and take what comfort he can in the soft touches and endless praise, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it puts a pit in his stomach to think he ever wanted this from his brother at all.

Even outside of bed, it messes with Peter's head the way that Tony's so nice. It makes it too easy to sink into the lie sometimes, when he's allowed to wander the familiar penthouse suite of Stark Tower instead of being locked in some basement, when Tony remembers all of his favorite treats and movies, when Tony spoils him rotten and tells him he's perfect and never, ever loses his patience.

(Even when Peter does. Even when Peter has one of his embarrassing episodes where he loses his mind and beats his fists against Tony's chest and scratches and bites until he tastes blood, Tony just holds him and sighs "I know, baby, I know," until Peter is spent. He never even raises his voice.

But he does cry sometimes. It makes Peter feel guilty, and then mad at himself for feeling guilty, and then he gets so confused that he just lets Tony bundle him away for a nap like he really is a tantruming five-year-old. Every time he wakes up he's mortified, but Tony never scolds him like he deserves. He's just sweet and gentle and forgiving, and he lets Peter sink right back into the comfort of the lie.)

Peter wonders if Tony was kind to the other Peter. He resents him sometimes, even though he knows it's not fair. It's not the other Peter's fault that he died, or that his dad is… like this. It's not the other Peter's fault that Tony picked Peter out of all the options. But even still, sometimes he thinks 'if you were still here, then I wouldn't be,' and there's some satisfaction in having someone to blame who he doesn't have to share a bed with.

But mostly– mostly he wonders about the other Peter's life. Sometimes Tony will cling to him and apologize over and over again like he can't hear Peter at all, and Peter wonders if he was mean to the other Peter while he was alive, or if he was sleeping with his actual son, too, or if he blames himself somehow for the way that he died. JARVIS won't tell him what happened, and he's too afraid to ask Tony.

But it wasn't a secret, he knows. Even if he can't find any mention of the original Peter Stark's death online, other people have to know about it, because none of Tony's employees can stand to look at him.

He wonders what they know. Do they think he's some kind of Frankenstein's monster? Do they know he's been kidnapped? Do they think he's just an uncanny lookalike, or do they know about the machine in Tony's personal lab?

(Or do they just know exactly how close their boss is to his son, Peter thinks sometimes, and it makes him want to never come out of his room.)

Or maybe they're just afraid that if they look, Tony will see something on their faces that he doesn't like, because–

He may always be gentle with Peter, but Tony is not a kind man.

He still rarely raises his voice. When he's angry with someone, his voice goes flat and ice-cold and the room gets so quiet it feels like even breathing would be too loud.

He always sends Peter out of the room before he kills someone. It's the only time anyone will look at him, their eyes wild and pleading for Peter to stay like that would save them, but by then it's Peter who can't bear to look.

Peter hates himself for the way that he shakes for hours afterward instead of doing something. He hates himself for the way that he crawls into Tony's lap once they get home, the way he tips his face up for a kiss, all so he can hear Tony say–

"I'm sorry, baby." Rough stubble prickling at Peter's temple, his cheek, his chin. "You know I would never hurt you, don't you? Never."

"I know," Peter whispers, and by the time they're done and Tony has made him come at least twice and told him again and again that he loves him, that he's perfect, that he's the only thing that matters, it will almost feel true.

(Peter thinks about the other Peters on that monitor, and how so many of them were strong and brave and stood up to people just like Tony, and he wonders how the other Peter died.)

He does save someone though, he thinks. Just once. He can't know for sure, because it's not one of the men that regularly comes to meet Tony at the tower, but he thinks maybe he helped.

The man is making excuses. He's in charge of one of Tony's projects, and he says that Tony gave him permission to take time off to take care of his mother after a surgery, and that's why the project is behind schedule. Tony doesn't remember and doesn't care and he gets angrier with every word out of the man's mouth, and eventually he stands, those silver tendrils exploding out of his suit to grapple the man down over his desk while he wails and pleads.

Tony takes a breath, and Peter knows he's going to tell Peter to leave the room, and he abruptly can't stand it.

"Daddy, don't," he says, the babyish word coming out in his desperate horror without him meaning to say it, and he hugs Tony around the waist like that means anything, like he can stop anything, like he's a version of himself that's actually strong.

Tony freezes, and for the length of what feels like a hundred rabbiting heartbeats Peter is terrified. He's never stood up to Tony in front of his men. He's barely stood up to him at all, and it never leads to anything anyway, and he suddenly doesn't know why he stuck himself out for this stranger who Tony is probably just going to kill anyway but this man has a family and Peter misses his mom so much he can barely breathe and he can't keep doing nothing he can't he can't he can't–

Tony turns gently in his grip, because Peter can't stop him, and Peter keeps his face buried against Tony's shoulder. He can still hear the sound of the man whimpering quietly from where he's pinned to the desk by Tony's tendrils, and he flinches when the weight of Tony's hand settles on his hair, gentle.

"Oh, sweetheart," Tony breathes, his voice strange– revelatory, tender, almost delighted. "Did Daddy scare you?"

The room is quiet. Peter is painfully aware of every other person listening– the guards by the door, the man on the desk, gasping in shaky breaths now instead of whimpering.

He can feel the weight of something important shifting, shifting, shifting when he nods his head, and the finality of something new settling into place when Tony wraps his arms around him.

"Get out," Tony says over his shoulder, and there's a clatter of noise as the man scrambles to the door. Tony adds, "You too," to the guards, and when the door clicks closed they're alone.

Peter shudders in Tony's arms, his body not able to reconcile the combination of relief and deep, primal fear coursing through his veins, and Tony clicks his tongue, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter's head.

"You really don't like coming to work with me, do you," he sighs, rubbing Peter's back. "I'm sorry, baby. You told me that, and I didn't listen."

He reaches to cup both sides of Peter's face, so Peter finally has to look up at him. He looks perfectly sweet, warm and fond and apologetic, and the contrast from his anger moments earlier is dizzying.

Tony strokes his thumbs tenderly over Peter's cheeks, and sighs one more time before he says, "All right, sweetie. If you promise that you'll be good, I'll let you stay in your room while I'm gone, okay? If that's really what you want."

It's so unexpected that it takes Peter a moment to understand that this is a compromise. Tony has never offered one before, and Peter had learned to stop asking a long time ago.

He rushes to gasp, "Yes– yes, please," and then, spontaneous and uncertain and thinking, adds, "Thank you, Daddy."

Tony smiles, and the chill it sends through Peter is anticipation just as much as disgust. Tony takes him upstairs to the penthouse then, and takes the entire rest of the day off work to make up for scaring him. It's almost nice, really, and if Peter doesn't like it when Tony tells him 'Daddy's got you' and 'that's right, let Daddy take care of you' in bed, it's still worth it, because–

The next day Peter gets to have four whole hours to himself until lunchtime, and then another four whole hours after that, and he can't remember the last time he didn't spend the whole day with Tony.

Things change after that.

Before, any protests Peter made would get shushed and brushed aside, Tony always gentle but never permissive. He would say that he knew best, that Peter would be okay, that Peter's way wouldn't work, and he would go on like Peter hadn't said anything at all. Requests were usually easier, Tony happy to bury Peter in gifts, but as for experiences– Tony's sense of what was too risky for Peter was broad and paranoid and stifling, and now–

It's shocking having a way to get Tony to listen to him, and Peter tries not to let it go to his head. He's careful. He doesn't ask for too much. He sprinkles in petty requests to throw off the scent of when he really, really wants something so it can't be used against him.

He acts like he really is all those dirty things his brother used to call him, and he bats his eyelashes and pouts and fawns, and he says "Daddy, please?" and "Can I, Daddy?" and "Daddy, I don't want to," and he gets what he wants.

But he knows just that won't be enough for what he really wants. Not by itself. He can't just stick out his bottom lip and simper his way into where he wants to go, so he'll need to add something else.

And Peter will give Tony this: for all that his obsession with his "son" is twisted and wrong, he really does seem to care more about making Peter come than himself. He always takes Peter in his mouth like it's a treat, but the first time Peter slides to his knees in front of him, he looks so shocked that it honestly seems like he hasn't even thought about it before.

"Petey," he says, ghosting his fingers over Peter's hair while Peter draws him out of his pants. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to, sweetie."

Peter knows it's part of why Tony is so sweet to him, but it irritates him sometimes when Tony acts like he actually buys the whole innocent lamb act, like he doesn't fuck Peter at least twice a day himself. Tony knows about Peter's brother, he knows Peter's done this before; Peter's even pretty sure it's part of why Tony picked him.

Peter takes a breath and pushes it all down, down, down, and he reaches for the part of himself that means it when he says, "I want to, Daddy."

He leans in, and if it's more bitter than he remembers– well, the aftermath is what's sweet.

It's hard to keep the request behind his teeth while Tony fawns over him after, showering him in kisses and praise and making him come so many times that Peter finally has to protest, "Daddy, no more," sluggish and sensitive and overheated.

But he wants Tony to think it's his idea, so he waits until finally, finally–

Tony chuckles and nuzzles in to kiss Peter's cheek, and he murmurs, "Okay, okay, baby. I just want to make you feel good after you were so good to me. What else can I do for you, hmm?"

Peter bites his lip and looks away, and it's not all playing shy. He's nervous, and he's really not sure how Tony is going to react, and if Tony squashes his hopes here– he can't think about that.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tony croons, pushing back Peter's sweaty curls and kissing his forehead. "You can tell me, Petey; I know you've got something in mind."

"Can I–" Peter hesitates, and he'd like to say he's playing it up, but the way his eyes go wide and desperate and shiny is all real. "Daddy, can I… can I please see the monitor again? Please? I want… I want to see Grandma."

He doesn't know if it's a step too far and too false to call her that. Maria Stark would be his grandmother if he was actually Tony's son, and he's trying to– give a show of good faith, that even if he's still thinking about his real family he's accepted the false reality that Tony's made for them. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits to find out, and–

Tony sucks in a breath, staring at Peter in shock for the second time that night, but this time his expression resolves into regret and apology.

"Honey," he says softly, and Peter wants to scream, "I don't know if that would be the best thing for you. I think it'll make you sad, sweetheart."

No, Peter wants to say, but contradicting Tony will just make him dig in his heels, so instead he says, "I-I know, I know it will, but that's okay. It'll make me happy, too. Like getting older, right?"

He throws it in, a last-minute ad-lib; Tony jokes all the time about how sad it makes him to see Peter get older even though he's glad that Peter's growing up so sweet. It's a hit– Tony smiles, rueful, and Peter presses his advantage. He links his arms behind Tony's neck, cuddling close, all entirely-real doe eyes and quivering lips when he asks, "Daddy, please let me. Please?"

Tony sighs, and he leans in to scatter kisses over Peter's face when he murmurs, "You're getting too sweet for me, baby. All right, if you're sure that's what you want."

Peter's heart soars, and when he pulls Tony into a kiss he doesn't even have to fake enjoying it.

They go the next day. Tony is still reluctant about it, but he doesn't try to back out, and so they make their way to his private lab after breakfast.

It hits Peter harder than he expected. He knew it would make him sad, but he was imagining his mother bright and vibrant and happy. He barely recognizes the haggard woman on the screen, grayer than he left her and exhausted with grief, and it makes him cry so hard he can barely breathe.

"I told you, sweetheart," Tony sighs, rubbing Peter's back and stroking his hair, but he doesn't try to rush him out of the room early. "This is too hard for you, baby."

"I'm okay," Peter forces out between tears, because he can't lose access to this. "I w-wanted this. I'm s-so happy to see her. Thank you, Daddy."

It's going to be hard to play at being cheerful the rest of the day, he knows, but he'll have to if he wants Tony to ever let him come back to this room. Because even despite his tears, he did get what he was actually after: he watched how Tony selected a universe from the massive, awe-inspiring constellation of choices, and he memorized the coordinates that Tony punched in to pull up his true home.

And if he's ever going to get an opportunity to use them, he needs to get back in that room.

He makes it work. He's extra-sweet all day long, enough to curb Tony's concerns about the effect of their field trip on his mood, and he keeps it up after that. He pulls Tony into kisses and buttons his shirts for him in the morning. He pushes Tony back to ride him after work, their hands clasped together between them. He gets on his knees, he wakes Tony in the morning with a warm hand or slick mouth, he waits for Tony at lunchtime wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else.

He's afraid at first that Tony might be put off by his new boldness, or at least suspicious, but Tony swallows the bait whole. He seems delighted that Peter is finally settling into his new life, eager to believe that Peter really has just grown more comfortable and mature in their relationship over time, and he even starts to trust Peter more. It's not even something that Peter asks for, but a week or two into his change of attitude, Tony gives him permission to access the rest of the suite while Tony's at work.

And that's not Peter's goal, but it does have some potential.

He does get to go back to the private lab. Peter doesn't ask for it every time, or even every other time, but Tony doesn't even hesitate to say yes, now. Peter plays up his excitement of the idea of the multiverse and of Tony's genius for making the machine; he plays up his interest in the other Peters; he checks in on his family.

And he watches the way Tony uses the monitor. He examines the construction of the machine. He pays attention to what features Tony uses when he navigates the 'verse map, and more than that, he pays attention to what features Tony avoids ever using in front of him.

He figures out slowly that his first plan won't work. As far as he can glean, the machine isn't built to have a way to send people back, and he knows he's not smart enough to figure out how to build that feature. He's smart, but even though the year on the calendar isn't even a full two decades ahead of Peter's actual universe, the technology may as well be a century more advanced– if the machine can only pull people to this universe, he isn't going to fool himself that he can change that by himself.

But still, every time he's in that room, he watches, and he thinks. He watches how Tony grows less attentive to his every move, more complacent in the idea that Peter is happy with their life. He watches how every day Tony gets closer to giving him permission to go to the lab by himself– it's not like he can use the machine to leave, after all. He watches how JARVIS sometimes lets him get away with things for a beat longer than he should, if Peter can make it look enough like an accident.

And he still watches the other Peters on the monitor. The ones that are older. The ones that are geniuses. The ones that save their cities from men like Tony. The ones that save the world.

Peter's not strong. He's not brave. He's not special.

He can't stop anything.

But he thinks he knows who can.

[estoned-png]

more ladonia and estonia bc i love them and yall should too

-since sealand was established in 1967, ignoring the fact that he was canonically purchased on ebay meaning anytime after 1995 (even though this is canon and i think its funny), let's say he was adopted earlier than ebay so like the 1970s-1980s, he wouldn't have had the chance to meet fin's brother, estonia, because he he was living under the ussr. because of this, he defaulted to denmark being his favorite uncle (which suited him a lot better anyway). so once estonia and finland reunite after he became independent, estonia has a harder time bonding with fin's new son because he was never around. SO when ladonia comes around in 1996, estonia is able to connect more with baby ladonia because he was there since day one

-ladonia was a mean baby. im talking can only be held by sweden, cries a lot, very picky with food, etc. so when estonia visits and ladonia let's himself be carried by him, he broke down crying because he realized he had a chance to be more involved in ladonia's life as his uncle, something he couldn't do with sealand.

-nowadays when babysitting ladonia, he asks estonia to watch his favorite cartoons with him (probably something swedish but hear me out, also octonauts bc that's where it's at) and estonia obliges.

-ladonia isn't a big fan of playing outside because he thinks he'll get made fun of by sealand, who's probably better than ladonia at any sport. so when den and sealand invite ladonia to play with them, he'll only go if estonia goes too because both of them are nerds who will probably embarrass themselves, but at least it'll be together.

-when at fin's house (UGH i can't remember their user but someone pointed out that estonia probably has his own room at fins house, so sorry if ur reading this and it was u, ur my goat) he'd hold a sleeping baby ladonia on his chest while laying down and playing video games in his room. alternatively, baby ladonia wakes up and is mesmerized by the game despite being a baby.

[bluecookies02]

When they make you cry

pairings: Hawks x Reader, Dabi x Reader, Bakugou x Reader, Aizawa x Reader, Izuku x Reader, Tamaki x Reader

Tamaki, Bakugou and Hawks are in a female!reader perspective, the rest of them are Gender Neutral

warnings: angst to fluff

masterlist

Hawks will get cocky, laughing in your face when he sees your shocked expression.

Both of you were going at each others throats, spitting insults to one another, just your recent daily routine.

Now Hawks knew you were a tough gal, which in his head made it alright for him to strike a really painful nerve into your chest.

As you remained speechless he turned around, a winning smirk plastered on his lips.

Just as he took a few steps forward, sobs wrecked your body as you hid your face in your hands.

"I d-don't think I can take this anymore Keigo" your broken voice reached his ears.

A pang of guilt pierced his chest once he turned around to face you.

He did this. He made you cry. He completely drained your happiness out. He hurt you.

His teeth dug into his lip, his eyes stinging as tears picked at them.

At that point, he didn't give two shits about who's right and who's wrong, his arms reaching for you and wrapping themselves around your shaking form.

He held you there for a while, listening to your cries that gradually turned into soft sniffles against his chest.

"I-" He opens his mouth but his words remained stuck at his throat.

"I don't want us to end..." you mumbled, your own words throwing you into another sobbing fit.

"We won't end here kid, I've got you...shit...I'm a fucking idiot...of course we won't end sweetheart...c'mon look at me" he raised your chin up gently, looking into your red eyes.

"I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry...not just for today, for every day before this, I-, God... don't leave kid, p-please"

You stared at his face, tears now streaming down his cheeks as his grip on you tightened.

You swallow the lump in your throat, grabbing his hands in yours.

"Something has to change Keigo...I miss you...we've been distant for months. Sometimes you don't even come home to me, do you know how that feels?"

"I know, I know, I swear... I miss you too. I'll tell you about everything I promise. Let's go home please."

You hesitantly nod, putting your heart on the line for the last time.

And now looking back, you're glad you did.

//quirk: flesh manipulation (the reader can manipulate the molecules in a person's flesh just by touching it, making them useful mid-battle to make the other heroes ready to fight again in a matter of seconds, but also making them a threat to their enemies )

If there was one thing he despised about you, it was your guts.

Hell curse him for falling in love with someone so stubborn.

To live through a relationship with Dabi meant that you had to have though skin. You had to be strong enough to bite your cheeks and endure the issues that people in regular relationships never face.

He enters your home, covered in bruises and cuts, asking for your first aid kit.

You sigh to yourself, your usual nagging and yelling never reaching his ears.

You place the first aid kit onto your bedside table, turning your back to him, tiredly walking out of the room.

"Hey-" his voice calls out to you, quiet and confused.

You close the door behind you, making your way to your couch.

One of these days it'll be the last time he walks into your home, the last time you help him clean his cuts and the last time you hear his voice.

The weight of uncertainty pulls at your chest harder with every passing day.

He chose to continue living like this, he is the one that keeps ruining his own life, it's his ambitions that are making you this miserable.

Once he patches himself up, he sits on your bed for a while. Your silance meaning one thing and one thing only. You finally realized how pointless being with him is, you finally got it through your thick skull that he's nothing special to dwell about.

Time passes by quickly, a few hours already gone yet he's still glued to the same spot, not having the strength to leave your room, too scared to face your rejection once he gets out.

He should be happy for you, you won't be hurting anymore, you'll be able to find someone better.

He slowly twists the knob, taking slow steps through your living room.

You are laying on your couch, tear stains on your face and a tissue crumbled in your hand.

His chest tightenes at the sight. You cried yourself to sleep. He wonders... how many times did you cry over him? How many times would you just lay here as he carelessly roamed the streets?

He should leave...he should spare you the pain he brings. You were the only good thing in his life and by continuing this he'll ruin you, piece by piece.

You showed nothing but kindness to him, you made him realize that some people are worth getting close to, you being a hero also making his resolves shake under his feet.

He stretched his arm out to your cheek, careful not to wake you up.

He left a soft kiss to your temple before leaving your house.

-----

You woke up to a persistent ring of your doorbell.

You felt terrible...your hair was a mess, your nose was all clogged up and your eyes burned from all the crying.

You opened your door with annoyance, mad at whoever decided to burst your sadness bubble.

"Hey doll, I would've let myself in but my hands are kinda busy"

Your boyfriend stood there with a backpack on his shoulder and a carton box in his hands.

"So...do you happen to have a room to spare for a year or two...maybe three?"

You stare in disbelief your hand covering your mouth.

"I know that me being a villain might be a setback but...I got some hair dye? I might even consider letting you fix my jigsaw face."

Your body crashed into his, the box dropping to the ground as you squeezed your arms around him.

Maybe he can make you as happy as you make him.

You knew he was rough around the edges, but you never even imagined that you would be the one his rage would be directed at.

As soon as insults came crashing your way you left the room.

You were just trying to calm him down, placing your hand on his shoulder as you urged him to stop shouting and just let it go.

His rough hands grabbed yours, throwing your hand away like you were a mere fly, his quirk burning your skin.

You tried calling out to him just for him to snap around and scream at you.

Once you reached your dorm tears freely rolled down your cheeks.

You yearned for a normal relationship, longed for some peace and quiet just for a week or two.

Yet you just couldn't let the blonde go, always hoping for some miracle to come your way and take ahold of his ego.

--------

It's around 2 am and he can't fall asleep for the hell of it.

You're not picking up his calls nor answering his texts and you've been inactive on social media for hours.

Kirishima has been urging him to go to your dorm for two hours already, spamming him massages about him not being manly enough to win you back.

It's not like he doesn't want to, he just has no idea how to. Should he get you something? Get you some food and flowers? Where the fuck can he find all these things at 2 am? Isn't that how people in movies apologize or something...

He hates when you're mad at him, he is scared shitless of actually scaring you off and pushing you away.

A knock at your door snaps you out of your thoughts and a small flame of hope warms your heart for a split second as you make your way to your door.

He's holding a gray hoodie and a pair of bento boxes.

"That's not gonna fix it Katsuki."

"I know shitty woman you didn't even give me a chance to speak!"

You're sure that that's the first time Bakugou said the word "sorry" in his whole life.

The way it rolled off his tongue was shaky but somewhat determined, his hand grabbing ahold of yours gently.

Guilt was evident on his face as he stroked the bandages covering your hands.

"It's not that bad Katsu, and I understand that it was an accident." you mumbled trying to pull from his grip so he can focus on something else.

He grabbed ahold of your wrists, bringing your palms to his lips.

"I'll work on it, I promise. It'll never happen again. I mean it." you just give a soft nod, leading him to the table.

"Good. Now let's eat, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" you cheered, opening the bentos and stuffing your mouth with rice.

"Y/N...it's 4 am."

"Exactly, now eat, you're not gonna let me eat all of this by myself?!"

For this man, it was close to impossible to make his s/o cry.

He cherishes the relationship he has with you, making you feel special every single day at a time.

So when he sees you crying, he's confused and alarmed.

He reaches for you, trying his best to give you the comfort he thinks you need.

When you push his hands away and scream at him...Oh boy...

He's terrified.

Did he do something? Did he forget your anniversary? Your birthday? Did he eat your snack from the fridge??

You're pulling at the strands of your hair, your head buried into your knees as you sob.

He looks around, eyes widening when he sees a photo of himself and some girl kissing on the screen of your phone.

He wasn't there? He has proof! He was in a meeting! All of his colleagues could confirm that, he just needs you to listen! Please listen to him.

He's talking...blabbering...begging for you to just look at him.

As soon as you look up for a split second, he's hugging you, smothering your face in kisses as you weakly try to push him away.

Finally he leans his forehead against yours, letting out a long sigh of relief when he realizes that you're not crying anymore.

"Please Shouta, please, if you even have any respect for me, don't lie to me." you mumble out coldly, turning your head from him.

"Y/N, I would never, ever do that to you! Never! I love you so much, please, you have to know that, you do know that!"

You're too stubborn, but he calls all of his colleges one by one, putting them on speaker for you, asking about the time of the meeting or details of the meeting and they all have the same answer.

So now, your throat is dry and there's a lump in your throat, guilt eating at you as you try to apologize.

He couldn't give two shits about any of that, all he has to know is that you're okay and that you're still his.

He's not letting you go for the rest of the day, you're wrapped under the blankets with him as he makes sure you never believe the bullshit you see online.

"Sweetheart if I ever cheat on you, that's the day I cut my own dick off and bleed to death."

It makes you giggle and then laugh hysterically and he's just looking at you with the biggest heart eyes 🥺

Izuku would never do anything to make you cry.

He pays attention to every single detail in your relationship and he especially pays attention to your feelings.

What he is really bad at, is taking care of himself.

He doesn't take in consideration how you feel when he comes home all stitched up and tired, or how he stays up late to train and push himself further than his body can take.

However one day, he is exhausted from his training and he barely has any strength left. His phone rings and he is rushing out the door, already panting.

You don't reach him in time to stop him, so here you are, hours later next to his hospital bed.

The villain wasn't too powerful, but his state caused him to pass out in the middle of the bettle field.

As soon as he wakes up, you're yelling at him, but at the same time sobbing against his chest.

"I can't just stand here and watch you hurt yourself Zuku... I can't, I can't, I can't....O-one of these days you're just gonna slip away from my hands, I can't. Please" You're grip on him softens as you loose the strength in your hands.

His arms wrap themselves around you, trying his best not to flinch as you rub against his bandages.

His eyes are watering, realization dawning on him as he holds your tired body against him.

You're right...He sees the state of himself after a lowlife villain with a pathetic quirk sent him into the hospital. He doesn't even want to think about what would've happened if there was someone much stronger out there.

"Hey Y/N...I-...I might take a week off, to rest yeah? Does that sound good?"

You nod, wiping away the tears as you sniffle.

"And you won't be training at night anymore. And you won't be staying up late!" you scold as he rubs your cheeks.

"I won't. I promise." he places a kiss at your temple, pulling you onto the hospital bed next to him.

"Let's sleep for a bit yeah? I might owe you a few hours..."

You're crying, he's crying.

He's down on one knee and he's stuttering, his hands shaking as he hears you cry out a happy "Yes".

He barely gets the ring on your finger, burying his head into your neck as soon as he gets to his feet.

You always thought that he was going to propose to you at home, maybe some homecooked dinner with roses and candles. You didn't mind that option either.

You were surprised that he even suggested a walk in the park.

I mean, it was a really small park with little to no people in the area but it was beautiful nonetheless.

You're all giddy and happy as he takes your hand in his, his eyes always glancing at the ring on your finger.

Once you spot an ice cream stand you leap in happiness, rushing to get ice cream for the both of you.

The lady selling it smiles brightly at you.

"Is that the lucky guy?" you nod grabbing your icecream as Tamaki hides behind you.

"Good job sweetheart, you're making this lady very happy, I can feel it in my old bones" you laugh at her remark as you nudge Tamaki forward.

She hands him his ice cream and winks at him.

He's blushing and thanking the lady before running off to an empty bench.

”He’s a lil’ shy but he's got the spirit” you say to the lady as you rush off to get him.

You take the time to really study the ring, the beautiful blue crystal shining in the sun.

”I...I hope you l-like it...Nejire helped me out. Uhm I probably shouldn't have said that...S-she-"

"I like it Tama...I love it actually" you place a gentle kiss just at the corner of his lips, his hands grabbing your cheeks and kissing you deeply in return.

His cheeks are warm and his lips are slow against yours but you melt against him, letting him place you in his lap.

"Oh my God, I have a fiancé, oh my God, I have to call Mirio and tell him you said yes. You said yes, right?"

You laugh as you shake your head at him, playing with his hair as he fumbles with his phone.

All of the pictures are from the original anime/manga (please do correct me if I'm wrong in the comments below)

The Tamaki one has no angst in it because I had to heal from all of the emotional rollercosters.

___________

requests:closed

commissions:open

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[peterrparrkerr]

Tentacle sex - read on ao3

*-*

Tony's watched the boy on the beach for days. Watched how he ran on two feet, wobbling unsteady in the sand and laughing at himself when he nearly topples over.

His laugh is like a siren's song, pulling Tony from the depths of the water.

Tony knows his name is Peter from the times its called out when the sun starts to set. The boy snaps his head up the cliff face, up, up, up until he sees the woman beckoning him from the shore.

Peter calls back and the woman leaves. The boy always takes his time walking to the stairs that lead up the twenty feet to the grassy cliff top.

Tony watches him. Wants him.

He's only shown up with the warmth of summer. Migrating here from a spot Tony's unfamiliar with.

The boy turns darker the longer he stays outside, skin tanning, kissed by the sun. Tony sometimes misses the paleness of his skin, but he must admit, the darker skin fits him just as well.

Tony knows he'll never get the chance to feel the boy -to touch. Not when Peter stays close to the shore.

Tony gets as close as he dares, and most often gets pressed into the rock he latches onto with the waves -rocking with the tide.

He's content to just watch from afar.

And then one day, Peter's dragging a canoe through the sand. Tony watches curiously as Peter tries to get the boat out past the waves.

Its a slow process of being tipped over or pushed back to the shore. At one point, the boy swims ahead of the canoe, wrapped in rope.

He makes it at last, and climbs into the canoe, thin human legs flailing in the water as he pulls himself up.

He almost tips the boat over again, but falls into the bottom with a yelp.

Tony lets go of the rock currently anchoring him against the tide, and makes his way to the boat.

He doesn't want to scare the boy, but he can't wait. He wants to see him up close.

Peter seems to just be sitting in the boat, taking in the sun, letting the tide drift him. Tony waits just a moment when the boy paddles closer to the sore, worried he was already leaving.

But Peter stops again. He must not want to stray too far from shore.

Tony pokes his head from the water, blinking as air hits his eyes. Water laps softly at the sides of Peter's canoe, and Tony can hear the soft humming from above.

Tony nudges the canoe accidentally and the humming stops. Peter shifts rapidly, peering down at the water to one side. His hands grip the edges, and Tony's got to stop himself from reaching up and touching him.

Then Peter's turning and looking right at him, eyes wide as he yelps in shock.

"Jesus you scared the crap out of me!" Peter exclaims in a shrill tone. "I thought you were a shark or something."

"No," Tony hums, finally getting enough nerve to reach for the edge of the boat, pulling himself closer and further out of the water. "Not a shark."

"What are you doing all the way out here?" Peter asked, not seeming to be afraid of him now that he realizes Tony's not a danger to him.

"Making your acquaintance," Tony said, hooking both elbows over the edge of the boat and resting his chin on the cross of his wrists. "You're Peter, right?"

Peter grows a little stiff, apprehension settling in his eyes.

"How do you know my name?"

"I heard that woman call you the other day," Tony said with a shrug. "You answered to it, plus, you're the only one on the beach."

Peter relaxes again at the reasoning.

"Well, apparently not the only one," Peter sighed. "I haven't seen you around. I thought the beach is private."

"It doesn't look private to me," Tony said, glancing back over his shoulder at the shore.

"No, I mean, uh, its owned by my aunt and uncle," Peter said. "No ones usually on the beach except for us."

"I don't understand how humans can own sand," Tony huffed. "How do they know which grain of sand belongs to them? And don't you know the water is always changing?"

Peter blinks at him. "Uh, well-uh I mean, its more uh- humans?"

Tony nods, just as he reaches a tentacle up over the edge if the boat.

Peter's head snaps over to it, eyes widening. He doesn't scream though, or do much but stare at it.

So Tony pulls himself out of the water, tentacles slithering along the canoe.

"Holy shit!" Peter yelped, dropping to his ass at the bottom of the canoe, legs hanging over the small bench, back pressing into the front of the boat. He grips the edges with white knuckles, eyes widening as Tony settles into the other side of the boat.

"You're- you- you're an octopus!" Peter exclaimed, sounding out of breath.

"Cecaelia," Tony corrects.

"You're- you're like a mermaid," Peter continued to gape.

"You're not very scared," Tony mused, tentacles slithering closer to Peter. The boy doesn't shy away from them. Instead, he sits up a little, looking curiouser by the minute.

"I- uh, I guess not," he said, distractedly. He reaches forward before stilling. "Can I?"

Tony nods, and Peter's hand continues until soft fingers brush against the meaty part of Tony's tentacle. Tony suppresses a shiver at the feeling.

"Its slimy," Peter said, scrunching his nose, but continuing to explore.

"Its to protect my skin," Tony informs him. He explores Peter as well, curling one around his foot to explore the individual toes. It makes Peter giggles and flex his foot.

"How do you walk on these?" Tony asks. Peter isn't his first human, he knows how they go about it, but its still a curious thing, seeing human legs up close.

He's sure Peter is feeling the same way about him.

"Uh, very carefully," Peter responds. "I'm not very balanced, so I'm not the person to ask."

Tony chuckles, noting how often the boy fell in the sand. Tony's tentacles continue their exploration of Peter, whos still stuffed between the bench and the front of the boat.

One tentacle slithers up Peter's shorts through the pantleg, and Peter moves quick to try and stop him.

"Whoa! Whoa, uh, thats- uh, that's kind of private," he stutters. Tony continues to slither in.

"What is?" Tony asked innocently, the tip of his hectocotylus brushing against what Tony knows is the human's sweet spot.

Peter's breath stutters from his lungs, head falling back only a moment before snapping forward, shifting and trying to remove Tony's tentacle.

"Uh, that- its, uh, its-" Tony cuts him off by pressing in, feeling Peter's tight warmth stretch against him. "Hol-holy shit!"

"Am I hurting you?" Tony asked dumbly, continuing to press deep into the boy. He wondered how much of him Peter could take.

"N-no, its just- hnnng- its- its sensitive!"

Tony hummed moving closer so he can get his hands on Peter's swim shorts.

He pulls down just enough to expose Peter's cock, which is quickly filling up.

"And this?" Tony asked, curling another tentacle around it and making Peter whimper. "Is this sensitive too?"

"Ye-yes," Peter gasped, clenching around Tony's hectocotylus. Tony can't help but groan at the feeling, his other slithering close to nestle beside the one in Peter's ass.

"Oh, oh!" Peter cries out, body arching into Tony's touch. Its incentive enough to curl his tentacles around Peter and lift him out of the pocket he'd fallen into.

The boy's breath hitches as Tony lays him out on the canoe, half holding him so he doesn't fall off the bench.

Tony's got a grip on Peter's upper arms and his thighs, pulling his legs apart. His hectocotyli slowly start to thrust into Peter's asshole, one after the other, slowly stretching him to take in more.

His other two tentacles busy themselves with Peter's cock and his mouth.

The boy gasps and moans, and Tony easily slips past his lips. Peter's eyes widen before rolling back as Tony slips down his throat.

He groans loudly as he manages to fit more of himself up Peter's ass, stretching him on both his hectocotyli, moving harder, faster.

Peter's held open to him, with nowhere to go but where Tony's tentacles let him. He writhes, choking on Tony with tears in his eyes.

"You feel so good," Tony murmurs. "Can you take my seed? Hmm? Could your human body handle my cum?"

Peter chokes out a moan around the tentacle fucking his throat, pre-cum dribbling down his cock and over Tony's other tentacle.

Tony pulls out of Peter's throat, allowing him to gulp for air without removing himself fully from his mouth.

He moans desperately against Tony, tongue pressing up against him, suctioning to him until Tony releases his tongue.

"So willing," Tony mused, driving deeper into Peter, hectocotyli working in tandem.

"Ahgnh," Peter gasps, eyes squeezing closed and body trying to rock into his thrusts. Tony smirks, driving in harder.

"Look, sweet thing," Tony hums. "You can see me through your stomach."

And Peter lifts his head, mouth stull full of Tony. His eyes widen as he sees the bulge at Peter's belly, moving with each thrust of Tony's hectocotyli inside him.

Its enough to get Peter to orgasm. He archs his body, head thrown back as he practically wails, voice muffled by the tentacle as he cums in strips of white across his belly and the tentacle curled around his cock.

Tony continues thrusting into him, feeling his own orgasm fast approaching.

He drives down Peter's throat again, fucking him from both ends, picking up the pace and grunting.

His grip on the boy tightens and Peter's eyes water. His moans and mewling are muffled as Tony continues to fuck his throat with his tentacle.

"Get ready, pretty," Tony murmured, pulling out of Peter's mouth entirely in order to hold onto him.

Peter gasps, chest heaving out reedy cries as Tony's pace picks up even further.

He pulls Peter upright, holding him with the six tentacles currently not fucking into the human.

"Oh, God!" Peter wails. Tony spreads his legs further apart, suction cupping to his skin as he drives in hard.

"Close, sweet thing," Tony moans. "So close. Watch your stomach, baby. Watch me fill you up until you burst."

Peter does, eyes landing on his stomach. He whimpers as he watches Tony bulge his stomach out with each thrust.

"Thats it," Tony grunted. "You're taking me so well, you'll take my cum too, won't you."

Peter doesn't have time to answer. Tony cums hard and fast, groaning as he feels eggs begin to fill Peter, one at a time.

Peter whimpers at the feeling, gasping and mewling as Tony continues to thrust up into him, pushing his eggs deep into Peter's belly.

They both moan as they watch Peter's stomach begin to extend. This was Tony's favorite thing about humans. They were so small, filled up so quickly.

Humans took his seed so beautifully, and it always made his orgasm last longer when he watched them fill up.

"Ah!" Peter scrambled against Tony's hold, tears in his eyes as he was stuffed to his limit. "Ple-please!"

Tony slowed his thrusts as his climax came to an end. Peter heaved a breath, nearly choking on the whimper lodged in his throat.

He slips out of Peter's asshole, pulling his hectocotyli from his shorts.

"Oh my God," Peter gasped wetly as a few of Tony's eggs slip out with him, falling to the boat floor.

Tony hums, bringing Peter closer and maneuvering him so his back presses against Tony's chest.

"That won't do," he murmured, leaning back so Peter's almost laying down. He's still got Peter locked in his tentacles, and Peter whimpers as Tony presses back into him, keeping his eggs stuffed inside the little human.

"Fuck," Peter whimpered. Tony smirks, seeing Peter growing hard again. "That was- that-"

Tony slowly stokes at Peter's insides again, the suctions on his tentacles kissing as Peter's shaft.

"Humans are amazing creatures," Tony hums, working Peter up once more. "They can go again and again."

Peter shuddered as Tony slips his shorts down, pulling them completely off to expose pale skin. He draws Peter's legs up to his chest before pulling them to the sides, exposing him completely to Tony.

"I'm- so full," Peter moaned, head pressing into Tony's chest. "Too full. I can't- can't take any more."

Tony slides in deeper, the wet squelching sound making him moan softly. Peter whimpers as eggs are squeezed out as more of Tony presses in.

"You can take more," Tony hummed, picking up a brutal pace. "You're gonna take everything I give you, sweet little thing."

Tony empties himself into Peter again, and he's right. The boy can take more. He's full of Tony's eggs and leaking all over the place. Properly fucked out.

They lay still in the boat while Peter catches his breath, and then Tony's pressing into his stomach, squeezing more of his seed from Peter and humming in appreciation as Peter mewls and whimpers, being forced to expell Tony's eggs.

He guides Peter's boat closer to the shore -after having drifted so far out to sea- and watches Peter make his way up the steps slowly, walking with a slight limp.

Tony's surprised to see Peter the next day, the boy carrying nothing but an inflatable inner tube. Tony meets him where the waves aren't capping, smirking at the boy.

"You came back," he murmured, tentacles caressing Peter's legs under the water. He watched Peter shiver.

He nods, and before Tony can say anything else, Peter's reaching a hand down the middle of the inner tube. When it returns, he's got his swim trunks in hand, giving Tony an impish grin.

Tony returns it as he slithers up Peter's legs.

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 6

Harry's a bloody good fighter. He doesn't brag much, only when he's trying to intimidate some asshole that's eyeing his y/n or a new boxer has been pushing his buttons. He's humble, for the most part, but he prides himself on being one of the few boxers that doesn't get knocked out.

He can feel the burning shame before he's even fully woken up. Or maybe that's just another concussion. It doesn't matter, they both make him feel like he failed.

He can feel fingers in his sweaty hair, close to his head and gently scratching his scalp. It eases the throbbing behind his head a bit. There's a hand in his left one, boxing gloves removed and now just covered in tape. He can tell by the shape of the hand in his that y/n is the one next to him. He wants to feel her against him, holding him, taking care of him. It's her that gives him the strength to peel his heavy eyelids open.

The lights have been dimmed but they still make his head pound and he winces. Y/n squeezes his hand and he does it back, turning his head to the left to look at her. She's smiling at him, close lipped but soft and nurturing. Her fingers keep massaging his head, making his toes curl.

"Hey love," She whispers, inching closer to him. She's face level with him, meaning she's sat on a chair next to the bed he's on. He wonders where they are but he can't get his brain to focus enough to look around him. Besides, he kind of likes that she's the only thing he can focus on.

"Hi." His voice is rough and cracky, itching in his dry throat. He swallows a couple times, hoping that'll help but he needs water. His lips fall open to ask y/n for some but she's already pulling her hand from his hair and reaching over his head. She brings down a styrofoam cup with a straw sticking out of it. Harry pushes himself up to his right elbow, vision swooping as he sits up. He closes his eyes, willing the nausea away and parting his lips for the straw. Y/n directs it to his lips, holding the cup and his hand while he drinks.

When his throat feels better and his body cooler, he gently falls back into the pillows behind his head. Y/n returns the cup to it's spot, fingers falling back to his hair. He hums, blinking sluggishly at her.

"Don't feel as bad as I thought I would." Harry admits quietly. He expected to be aching and throbbing all over after the beating he took. He wonders why it doesn't hurt but the question doesn't last long before y/n is clearing it up for him.

"Medics gave you a shot of painkillers while you were out." Her hand falls to cup his cheek, head tilting as she rubs her thumb over the swollen spot on his cheekbone. "Didn't want you hurting when you woke up."

"Thank you,"

"Cleaned you up a bit too. You've got a bandage above your eye but nothing needed stitches." She places her thumb over the bandage.

"How bad was it?" Harry asks, lifting their intertwined hands. He strokes the back of her hand with his free one.

"Nothing too bad." Y/n lays her cheek against their hands. "Besides the concussion you're just a little more beat up than usual."

Harry nods, sighing softly. Him and y/n just look at each other for a moment, eyes gleaming with appreciation. He wonders if she was worried when he blacked out. If she cried or if she took charge and rushed to get the medics. He hopes she didn't cry. He remembers how much it affected her the first time he'd been knocked out. He doesn't want to think about her reliving that so he blinks the image away.

"Want to go home darling."

She smiles, kissing his knuckles. "Then let's go home."

~

Y/n is pretty good at keeping her cool, especially when it comes to him getting hurt. She doesn't want to make things worse or guilt trip him by whining about how worried she was. But she had never seen him knocked out.

He's doing good in the ring. He isn't dominating like he usually does and of course that bothers her because she hates to see him hurt, but she knows he can't always win. Her and Nick cheer him on, knowing that he tries to impress them and reminding him that they're there for him.

She's mid holler, starting to grin because he's charging his opponent, obviously fueled by them when the man dodges Harry's hit and swings. His glove collides with the side of Harry's head, snapping him to the right and crumbling Harry. She freezes, hands cupping her mouth as Harry drops like a ragdoll to the floor of the ring.

The bell dings loudly and the ref throws the other man's hand up and y/n knows the crowd is cheering but she can't hear it. Her ears are ringing as she watches Liam clamber into the ring and towards Harry. Nick hops over the gate in front of them, following after Liam into the ring. Seeing Nick slip through the ropes snaps her out of her daze and she rushes through the gate. By the time she reaches the ring, medics have pulled a stretcher out of the back room and are helping Liam and Nick pull Harry out of the ring.

Tears build in her eyes at the sight of him. He looks lifeless, flopping onto the stretcher. His gloved hands hang off the side, begging for her to reach out and grab one. She rushes after the medics, grabbing Harry's left hand in both of hers. She gasps at the already bruised knot by his eye, the swollen skin split and oozing dark blood into his hair and onto his shoulder. They wheel him down the hallway and towards his changing room, tears finally falling down her cheeks.

"Why isn't he waking up?"

The medics ignore her, pushing Harry into his room. She has to release his hand so they fit through the doorway, falling back helplessly. She feels arms wrap around her, tugging her back. She turns, crying into Liam's shoulder.

"Why isn't he waking up Liam? W-is he ok?"

Liam shushes her, holding the back of her head softly in the same way he's seen Harry hug her. She sobs into his shirt, mind replying the scene of Harry dropping to the ring. She feels like she can't breathe.

"He'll be fine. Just give him a moment."

A moment passes. And then another with no sign of Harry waking up on the other side of the door. Y/n has ran out of tears (she's not much of a crier but when she does cry, it's like a tsunami) but she still clings to Liam. His chest isn't as firm or as warm as Harry's but she trusts him to know if Harry's ok, so she wills herself to relax.

When the door behind her opens, she pulls from Liam and whirls around to look inside. One of the medics nods for them to come in and, holding tight to Liam's hand, she enters first.

To her dismay, Harry's still laying on the stretcher, eyes shut and lips parted like he might just be sleeping. The other medic is crouched over her unconscious boyfriend, stitching up the wound on the side of his head. His boxing gloves have been removed, now tossed haphazardly in the direction of the couch.

"He was up a minute ago but fell back asleep when he saw us cleaning him up." The medic that let them in says, giving y/n sympathetic eyes. She wipes at her own with the back of her hand.

"Will he wake up soon?" Her voice is small and croaky.

"He's pretty much just sleeping now, which is good. He's got a pretty heavy concussion. Won't be able to fight for quite some time but he'll be ok."

Y/n nods, stepping up to the stretcher. She releases Liam's hand to grab Harry's instead. His fingers twitch around hers and she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

The medic is finishing up the bandage on his head so she takes the time to gently peel the tape off his hands. She treats every finger like it's made of glass, thumbing over the tape mark as if she can rub away all the pain. She balls up the tape and drops it to the floor, moving around to the other side of the stretcher. The medic that was stitching him up is now talking to Liam in the corner, most likely going over his recovery process. Her chest aches, knowing how upset Harry's going to be. She starts her gentle process of removing the tape.

"S'too bright in here."

She jumps at his words, squeezing his hand and looking up at him. He's squinting into the lights, eyes dark and unfocused but looking at her. Y/n lifts her arm, shielding the light for him. He relaxes for a moment but as soon as he takes in the sight of her, his eyes and lips droop.

"Why are ya crying darling?"

She sniffles, not realizing that she was in fact crying again. His free hand cups her cheek, wiping away tears as best he can. They don't seem to want to stop.

"I was so scared."

Harry's frown deepens. He squeezes her hand even tighter and slips his other hand behind her head, pulling her closer to him. Harry puckers his lips into hers, ignoring the pounding in his head and the salty tears on her.

"M'ok. Just tired baby."

She laughs wetly, puffy red eyes and lips haunting him. He hates to see her cry but damn does she look beautiful. His body aches with fondness. "I already talked to a medic. I know you have a concussion."

Harry doesn't respond. He's too caught up in watching her. He's never seen her like this. He's never seen that deep of a pinch between her eyebrows or that doe-like look of relief when he woke up. It's been a long time since someone's looked at him with that much care and it hits him harder than his opponent did.

He loves her.

Harry really fucking loves y/n.

Y/n blinks at him, sniffling once more. "You weren't waking up," She whispers as if speaking the words will make them come true. "you were just lying there and there was a bunch of blood. It felt like-"

Like her world had crumpled with him.

"Shh, s'ok baby." Harry shushes, heart hammering painfully at her pitiful cries. He doesn't want to hear how scared she was. He's supposed to protect her, not scare her. "M'awake. Right here with ya."

He brings their intertwined hands up, forcing her fingers open and laying them over his bare chest. She gives him a tiny smile.

"Are you feeling ok? Do you need anything?"

Harry hums, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of her hand under his, holding the heart that beats for her. "Want to go home and shower. Cuddle with ya too, ma head hurts and ya always make it better."

She leans down to kiss his forehead. "Then let's go home Harry." She doesn't know if home means her place or his but it doesn't matter because she's sure that as long as he's there, it'll feel like home.

~

Ice pack pressed against his head, Harry watches y/n with sleepy eyes as she finishes washing the last of the dishes. She dries her hands on a pink dish towel, hanging it over the oven railing to dry. She smiles when she looks at him, coming around the side of the counter to where he's sitting on the bar stool, head in his other hand.

"Gonna be ok while I'm in the shower?" She asks, threading her fingers through Harry's damp hair. He nods, lips perking up with an amused smile. She knows he'll be fine but he loves that she still asks.

"I'll be right out. Try to eat something if you can, ok?"

Harry nods again, eyes slipping shut as she presses a tender kiss to his forehead. He huffs when her fingers leave his hair, slipping to his shoulder for an affectionate squeeze. He listens to her ascend the stairs, growing more groggy with every step he hears her take.

"How are you feeling?"

His eyes snap open, flickering up to find his mom standing across from him. She looks nervous, fidgeting with the sleeve of her pajama shirt. Harry wonders why he didn't hear her come in.

"M'fine. Really tired though." A small yawn stretches his mouth as if proving his point.

"You should get some rest."

Harry shrugs. "Wanna wait for her. Don't like going to bed by myself."

A fond grin, similar to the one he gives his own son, lifts her lips. "You always hated sleeping alone."

He can't stop his following words. "Got used to it for a while when I stayed with Nick. Y/n changed that."

He can hear Anne's nervous gulp. "She was like a bloody war hero after the fight," she says, timidly. Harry's glad for the subject change, he doesn't want to talk about living with Nick.

"Yeah?"

"She was up as soon as she saw you fall. The bell rang and she was hopping the gate to get to the ring."

His eyes flicker down to the countertop. "Did she cry?"

Anne hums thoughtfully. "I think she wanted to but she was too concerned. She was checking you for a concussion or wound before the medics could even get to you."

Harry sighs in relief, a smile pulling at his lips. That's his girl. That's his amazing, strong girl. He breathes easier now that the memory of her crying is gone.

"I know you may not agree, but you're still my son Harry so I have to tell you that I'm so proud of you. You've made yourself the perfect family and it all started with fighting," He hears her quivering breath and he knows if he looked at her, she'd be teary. "But please be careful in that ring. If you got hurt, it would just crush her."

Harry knows she's talking about y/n. And he knows how much it would pain y/n if he got permanently injured;that's why he works so hard to keep himself healthy and in shape. But that's not what he wants to hear. He doesn't want his mother telling him to be safe because it'll hurt his wife. He wants to hear from his mom.

"Just her?"

He looks up at her through his eyelashes. She sniffles, squaring her shoulders and staring at him dead in the eyes. "It would crush all of us."

Chills run up Harry's spine, an odd feeling of home sickness settling in his bones. In an ideal world, his mom would have been present for all the times that he's proved his family is his number one. She would have seen him forfeit his first fight because Arlo had gotten sick. She would have seen him abandon an interview with the cities top sports writer because y/n was stuck on the bad side of town. She would have seen him give up every bit of pride he had so he could get better for his wife.

It hurts that his mother still thinks of him as a reckless and selfish fighter. He doesn't need to show her that he's capable of caring for his family but if it'll help fix the longing in his chest, he'll gladly do it again. He can't think of a better way to spend his time than spoiling his wife and babies.

~

"Gemma?"

The arms around his neck tighten, y/n completely tensing at the name she's only heard a handful of times. Harry feels her start to pull back and he squeezes her waist. He doesn't want Gemma and Anne seeing the face of his wife. They don't deserve to know his happiness.

"Harry?"

"Sh love," Harry murmurs, heart thumping loudly. He doesn't know what to do, what to say. He's thought about seeing them for years but now that they're here he wants them gone. He wants to kiss y/n and take her to dinner and then take her home where he can lovingly dolt on her.

"Hi Harry," Gemma says, offering him a twitchy smile. He stares back at her with furrowed eyebrows and dark eyes that refuse to look at Anne. He doesn't want to look into the eyes of the woman that was supposed to care for him but abandoned him instead.

"Is that..."

"Yeah," Harry whispers in y/n's ear, lips barely moving.

"Both of them?"

"Mhm."

This time when she pulls back, he lets her. She turns around, standing firmly in front of him like a shield. If Harry weren't so preoccupied with the fact that he's looking into the face of his sister, he'd be cooing about the fact that his height towers over her and yet she's guarding him.

Gemma's eyes flicker to y/n and Harrys heart seizes. Without thinking, he's grabbing her elbow and pulling her back until she's hiding behind him. Gemma's eyes return to his, widening at the glare that he's sure is blazing from under his pinched brows.

"What are ya doing here?" Harry says gruffly, reaching behind him for y/n's hand. She grips his taped and sweaty hand, and he's not sure if she's squeezing it for her own sake or his.

Gemma's lips fall open, gaping for a brief second. "W-we came to see you."

He ignores the flutter of hope, pushing it down and reminding himself that that's not his family up there. His family is standing behind him, watching his back. "Why?" He barks.

"Harry," y/n says warningly, tugging on his arm. He looks Gemma up and down with distaste, turning to his wife and making sure his broad frame is still blocking her. She raised her eyebrows at him, lips pursed and he already knows the words she's trying to tell him.

This is his chance. This is the moment he's been asking for ever since he first texted his mom that he had graduated and every other bit of news he'd sent after. Anne and Gemma are here, and he can blow them off like they did him but it would do no good. He refuses to be the same careless person his mother is.

His face must show his agreement because y/n gives him a smile, tiny but proud, and pecks a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I've got this babe," she says and then she's stepping around him, acting like a shield again. She takes a few steps closer to the stands, Harry following closely behind her.

"You must be Gemma," y/n greets, voice friendly despite the tension between Harry and the two women. "and that would make you Anne."

Harry doesn't look at Anne but he can see her small nod. Gemma smiles at y/n, relaxing at the welcoming tone and greeting. "Yeah, we're Harry's...."

Y/n ignores Gemma's fallen smile. "I'm y/n. It's nice to meet you both."

Gemma quickly shakes off the panic that had flooded her face. As much as Harry would like y/n to tell them to fuck off, he's reminded once again why he loves her so much. She knows him better than he knows himself. Even if he wants Anne and Gemma to leave, it's best for him to hear them out. And luckily, his girl is there to get the ball rolling and protect him.

Fuck, he loves her.

"Nice to meet you y/n."

Harry tenses at the sound of her name on Gemma's lips. He never wanted them to know her name. She's too good for them, too good to be known by them.

Y/n looks over her shoulder at Harry. "You should go change."

"No." He shakes his head.

"Harry,"

"M'not leaving ya with 'em." He says firmly, not caring if they hear. "They ruined one family of mine, m'not giving 'em a chance to do it again."

Her eyes flicker between his but he has no resolve in them. He's putting his foot down and she's not moving it, no matter how weak for her he is. She nods, turning back to Anne and Gemma.

"Harry and I need to go change real quick but if you'd like, you can wait out here and we'll continue this."

Gemma's smile is twitchy. "Sounds wonderful."

Harry gives both of them one last warning look, not focusing on his mother because he really can't handle to look at her right now. He keeps y/n in front of him, a hand on her waist and guiding her back to his dressing room.

In the silence of the room, as he quickly strips down and heads for the shower, he realizes that Nick and Liam have disappeared. He's glad, he doesn't want them mixing with his old family.

"Are you ok Harry?" Y/n asks, standing by the doorway of the shower, close enough to speak to him but out of the range of the shower water. Harry shrugs, rubbing shampoo into his hair.

"I don't know, darling."

"What do you want to do?"

He closes his eyes, rinsing out his hair and thinking it over. He wants to talk to them but he needs time. Tonight is not the night he wants to go over everything that happened. He can't take that right now. So he keeps it simple. "Wanna go eat."

She giggles and it makes his lips curve up. "Do you want me to invite them? You don't have to talk to them tonight, but I know you want to take this chance."

"M'afraid of being around 'em." He admits, squeezing body wash down his chest and running his hands over his wet skin.

"I won't let them hurt you again." He admires the fighter in her.

"M'more afraid of having you around 'em."

"They won't hurt me. Not with you there."

Harry smirks softly, peeling off the wet tape on his fingers and letting it drop to the floor of the shower. "Still scares me. I don't ever want my happiness in the hands of 'em and you being close to her..."

"We'll be fine Harry," y/n hands him his towel as he shuts off the shower. "we'll just eat and try to figure out what they want. Then you get to decide what to do."

Harry pats his face and torso dry. "Just dinner?"

"Just dinner."

He sighs, nodding. "I can do that."

Y/n smiles proudly, placing her hands on his bare chest. He places his left hand over hers, leaning into her when she rises to her tip toes. "I love you."

Harry slots his lips with hers, squeezing her hand tightly. She slides her left hand over his shoulder and around his neck, pulling him closer. "Love you more." Harry mururms into her mouth.

~

The room is still dark when Harry wakes up, y/n curled against his chest and legs tangled together. She's snoring quietly, the same little snores that Arlo makes, and it has his chest swelling with love. He hopes their next little one snores like her too.

Harry softly rubs his fingers over her belly, smiling sleepily. They've got another baby growing in there. He can't believe his family is growing.

He pulls y/n closer to him, thinking of the way Anne had hinted at him not caring for his family the way he should. She should take her own advice, he thinks bitterly. He's always put y/n and Arlo first. They're his priorities, he'd do anything for them even if meant giving up everything else. He'd go back to fighting in the streets if it meant he had his family.

He thought Anne was getting better at being someone he could rely on. He was ready to sit down and talk about their relationship, let her know that he can see himself calling her mum again one day, but if she still thinks of him as just a violent boy, he can't. He can't offer her any of his growth until she grows herself.

It's time she grew up and became his mother again. If that means he has to step up and tell her, he will because he refuses to have her around if she's going to be the same selfish, condescending woman she was before. Harry's got a family to protect now and he's going to do all he can to keep them happy.

It's time for him to talk with his mother.

[ethereals-angel]

Ethereal III

/ — extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world. /

《 Ethereal (I) 》 《 Ethereal (II) 》 《 Ethereal (III) 》

"Where were you last night?" Junmyeon asked, taking a seat beside you, two bottles of beer in his hands, "you disappeared."

You huffed, taking the beer he's handing you, "somewhere."

He was going for a sip of his beer when he laughed, almost spilling the liquid all over him. You eyed him in annoyance as he shook his head, a smile playing on his face, "you really like him, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know what I mean."

You rolled your eyes, going for a drink. You leaned against the couch as you swallowed, a sigh leaving your lips. "Shut up."

"If you like him so much then why don't you do something about it?" He chuckled, "you're you. Everybody wants you."

"He knows I killed Kyo."

Apparently, that silenced him. You drank more, enjoying the burn you're experiencing, not bothering to acknowledge the irritating feeling in your heart. You didn't know what ached more after finishing the bottle in one go, your throat or your little organ.

"Then if he likes you, he'll accept you for you."

You don't even know if you want to be you.

Even though you didn't want to, you went to class few moments later, fed up by Junmyeon's complains about how you should attend your classes to come out as a normal student, at least. You snorted, as if they would think you are a normal student. Your mind flew, you didn't want to admit it but you knew you miss him. You didn't see him since last night until now, and it's bothering you. You wanted to wait for him outside his classroom like you always do but you were pretty sure he wouldn't like to see you right now.

You were always that kind of person who didn't care about what others may think of you. It's all true, anyway, why would you sweat about it? You know exactly what you are and it didn't bother you since then, after that incident, not at all. But after meeting Baekhyun, that changed. You were constantly afraid of doing things you always do because you didn't want to scare him off. You wanted to be a different person, away from who you really are. You wanted to get rid of the lingering smell of blood of people you've killed with your bare hands, you wanted to erase the sound of their screams and cries as they begged you to spare their lives ringing in your ears whenever you're alone. You just want the angel you knew you didn't deserve with you, as much as possible.

You craved how he makes you crazy. You fed off his innocence. He makes you feel human, even if you knew how big of a monster you are. He's your escape, your own paradise. After last night, you didn't know what to do. You just want him. Your fingertips are aching to touch him so bad right now, it's almost painful.

You took in a deep breath, immediately leaving the classroom once you heard the bell ring.

Staying at your bright lonely flat made you even livid that night, sitting by the couch and staring at the situation outside as the raindrops continued to fall harshly. You can't stop thinking about him, you thought your head's gonna break. So, you drove. You drove as fast as you can, not bothered by the fact that it's so much slippier this time.

You found yourself in a middle of a nightclub you're very familiared with. You realized you've never came back here after you met him. Taking a deep breath, you sat by the bar counter. The bartender immediately recognized you, he started preparing the drink you've always order, not bothering to have a small talk with you, probably sensing you were not in a mood to speak.

You stared at a spot, not really paying attention to anything, just downing your drink all by yourself. Almost all the people around you probably know who you are, well, everyone knows who you are. Different perspectives and knowledge, though. The only common thing is to never mess with you, they know better. However, that didn't stop him from approaching you.

"I missed you."

You smirked, downing the alcohol you were lightly swirling before he sat beside you. You turned to observe him. Nothing changed, same old pretty face. "Oh, I'm sure you did."

He didn't hesitate grabbing you, crashing his lips on yours. You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck and moving to sit on his lap. You tugged on his hair a little harshly, just like what you always do. You continued on kissing him expertly, tasting him after a long time.

You faltered, images of Baekhyun started flodding your head. You kissed him harder, hand running through hair, wishing he was him, wishing he was your Baekhyun. You gripped onto his body, squeezing your eyes shut. He was the first one to pull away, his eyes hazy as he stared back at you. You blinked quite a few times when you started seeing Baekhyun's face instead of his.

I'm going crazy.

"Soo." You breathed, letting him shower your neck with kisses. You held his head as he nibbled on your skin. Your closed your eyes as you bit on your lip, not wanting to put your mind into the uneasiness you're feeling.

You stared ahead, at the crowd, either dancing or talking. You let out a gasp when a pair of eyes burnt holes as he stared at you, standing at the middle of so much people, you saw him. "Baekhyun."

You flinched, away from Kyungsoo. You pushed yourself off him, your eyes never leaving the boy. Your head pounded, you felt dizzy, you didn't know if it was because of the kissing, the alcohol, or Baekhyun.

You saw him turn around, going for the door to leave. You hissed, "what is he even doing here?" You ran, squeezing through the crowd. You were panting when you reached the door, pushing it open. The cold breeze welcomed you, still raining.

You immediately spotted him, his back facing you, you breathed, "Baek..."

He turned, looking at you, his cheeks flush from the coldness of the air, "hi..."

"What are you doing here?" You stepped forward, still giving him a fair amount of space no matter how much you were itching to get your hands all over him. You weren't sure if he would appreciate you touching him, the thought making you frown.

"I went to look for you," he avoided your eyes, biting his lip, "you didn't wait for me at school."

"What?"

"I waited for you!" He lifted his head, annoyance clear in his tone, "you left so early last night, then you didn't even bother seeing me at school, and now, I saw you kissing someone else."

You looked at him in bewilderment, not knowing what to say. He pouted at you, continuing his words, "I thought you liked me."

"Baek-"

"Why were you kissing him anyway? Is it because he's manlier than I am? You should've told me!" His stance falling, shoulders slumped, "I would've been better for you."

You panicked, for the first time in so many years, you fucking panicked, "no! Of course not!" You breathed heavily, still confused and speechless as hell, "I thought... I thought you hated me."

He let out a cute 'huh', tilting his head like a puppy, "why would I hate you?"

"You knew about what really happened with Kyo, I assumed-"

"You think that would make me hate you?" You blinked a few times when he leaned in, placing a kiss on your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you to him, "I could never hate you." He lowered himself, resting his cheek on your breast, "I like you so much, Raven. I really really do."

You stayed frozen for god knows how long, you killed the person he's almost seen as a father and he's not even a percent mad at you for it. You were breathing heavily when you wrapped your arms around him, returning his hold which he immediately tightened. "Do you still like me?"

Though, puzzled, mind running on and on about how he very surprisingly reacted in the situation, you nodded your head. "Of course." You lifted your hand to caress his hair, playing with it as you couldn't help but furrow your eyebrows, staring ahead at an empty space.

It may be strange, he may be strange but you were happy. So happy, you thought you could float. You were feeling so high in the moment, you let out a smile, twisted, so twisted.

You held his hand in yours, not minding any of the stares and whispers you're getting, silently dragging Baekhyun towards Room 88 after asking him if he's comfortable with all the attention. He nodded, saying that he'll always be comfortable if he's with you.

You opened the door, revealing the gang, complete. "Hey, man. Come on, I missed my class for this." Luck said, rolling his eyes, throwing darts in his hands.

Chanyeol walked towards you, peaking at the person hiding behind your back, "well, well, well," he grinned, "you finally brought him here."

You felt Baekhyun clutch your shirt in his hand from behind, making you look back at him, "you'll be okay." You whispered, kissing his forehead.

You introduced him to your friends. They have been very friendly, especially the men. You decided to bring him to the flat the gang have been staying in whenever anyone wants to. You are sitting in the couch, a beer in your hand with Junmyeon sitting beside you, playing poker with the others. You didn't play to keep an eye on Baekhyun. You watched as he laughed and played with your friends, his shy demeanor quickly disappearing by their loudness and teasing. You smiled lightly, happy to see him enjoy himself with the gang.

It's very rare to bring just anyone in here. It takes time before everyone agree to let someone see what you do. For Baekhyun's case, he's here because they already know him, he's constantly being used as a way to tease and annoy you, and of course, even if they say no to you, it's not like you'll listen.

You took a sip from the bottle you're holding, shaking your head at their antics.

You turned your head when you heard Yixing calling your name, you raised your brow at him, waiting for him to say something because he seemed to be in shock,

"Kyungsoo was murdered."

[ladsaclotpole]

An excerpt from my Outsiders DR <3

Warnings: Cigarettes, Smoking, Underage Smoking, and Mentions of Death

A/N: This all happened when I was 17 in my DR, I'm 18 here, and there

I sat there on the front steps of The Curtis House. I haven't been inside yet. What was I supposed to do now? Where was I supposed to go? I'm still just 17. Would I move in with Buck? I couldn't expect Darry to take me in. Maybe I'd move in with Tim. As I'm lost in thought, Steve walks out, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you come inside, Tex? It's gettin' cold." he says to me. I look up at him, and he holds a hand out to help me up. We walk inside together, the Gang looking at us. I see Ponyboy standing in the corner, staring off to the side.

I had been at work when I got a visit from Buck. He told me I need to come with him, and that it was urgent. He had already talked to my boss, so I grabbed my stuff and left. He explained to me that my parents had passed in an accident along with Mr. and Mrs. Curtis and my Godfather. It was while on their way to have a picnic at the park together. I said nothing, just staring out the window, letting it sink in. "You okay, kid?" Buck asked. "I don't know." I responded.

We pulled up to the house, and got out. I decided to just sit on the steps. "Comin', kid?" he asked. I shook my head, burying my face into my knees. I had sat there for an hour before Steve came out to get me. Now that I stand here, looking at the Gang altogether, I start to cry. I miss my parents. I want to go home. I want them to hug me and tell me that it was a false report, that they're still alive. I sank to my knees, sobbing, not feeling the usual embarrassment I do if I cry in front of the Gang. Steve knelt beside me, putting an arm around me, hugging me. I hugged him back as if my life depended on it.

I didn't know Steve cared this much. I always thought he just saw me as Soda's friend, not a friend of his own. I cried harder at the realization that he had my back, too. I guess deep down, I always knew he did, but no one had ever said it aloud. Steve was just as much my friend as Two-Bit or Soda was. For three minutes, Steve just hugged me and let me cry. Eventually, I pulled away, starting to feel the embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Steve." I said, wiping my eyes. He just gave me a smile, and helped me up again.

A little while later, the Gang decides they're all gonna stay the night. "I'll sleep on the floor if I have to!" Two-Bit says. As I'm brushing my teeth, I look at myself in the mirror. I see how long my hair is. I've never cut it. Not once in my entire life have I cut my hair. I decided that now is the time to cut it, if any. This is a new stage in life, one I'm just going to have to grow used to, even if I never stop missing my Dads and Godfather. Even if I never stop missing Mrs. and Mr. Curtis. I took a deep breath, knowing exactly what I want to do.

Once I finish brushing my teeth, I go into the kitchen, grabbing the scissors. I find Steve. "Steve!" I say. "Cut my hair." I say. "W-What?" he asks. "Cut my hair." I repeat. "W-Why?! Buck and Darry would skin me!" he exclaims. "Just-meet me outside when everyone else is asleep, okay? I need to do this, and I want you to be the one to do it." I say. "I don't know nothin' about cuttin' hair!" he says. "Neither do I." I shrug. He just gives me a look, but says he'll do it. I hug him again. "Thanks, Steve!" I say. "You owe me a pack of smokes!" he says. "Fine." I say.

I catch Pony before he goes to bed. "Hey." I say, grabbing his arm gently. "You okay?" I ask. He just shrugs. I hug him. "Hey. I know we're pretty mean to each other most of the time. But you're like a brother to me. You can always talk to me if something's going on." I say, half smiling. He just nods, walking into his room. Typical Pony. I sit in the living room, waiting for everyone to fall asleep. Dally bullied everyone into taking the couch, so me, Two-Bit, Steve, and Johnny had to take the floor. Buck left, but told me I'm always welcome at his place. Not in quite so much words, of course, but he said it in his own way.

After I'm one hundred percent sure everyone's asleep, I hit Steve with a pillow. He fell asleep, as usual. "Ow!" he says. "Oh, quiet, ya big baby!" I say. We get up, slowly making our way outside, shutting the door as quietly as possible. I had to step over Two-Bit, and Steve almost stepped on Johnny. We sit out on the front steps, and I hand him the scissors. "Where's my smokes?" he asks, holding his hand out. I roll my eyes, handing him the last pack I have. "I'll just bum one offa Dally later." I say. He starts cutting, and starts using his switchblade once it's short enough. He smokes as he cuts, and once he's done, he gives me a once over, making sure it looks alright. "You look alright, kid." he says. "Why'd you ask me to do it? I know Two-Bit would have done it had you asked him. He's head over heels for ya." he says. "I don't know, you were the closest person, I guess." I say.

Once we're done, we go back inside, and I sneak into the bathroom. Wow. I dig it. I look cool! I go back out into the living room, to thank Steve. He's sitting up, waiting for me. "Ya dig?" he asks. I nod. "Thanks, Steve." I say. He ruffles my hair and we go to sleep.

The rest of the Gang was shocked. "Angela'll kick your ass, Steve." Dally says, laughing. Angela always would brush my hair for me, braiding it, I'd let her do whatever with it. She was always nice to me. "See, what'd I tell ya, Tex, I didn't wanna do it in the first place!" Steve says, and we all laugh. "You look cool, Tex." Johnny says. "Well, I like it! I've had long hair my entire life, and I thought with the death of my parents, it's time for something new, ya know?" I say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn't take Angela long to figure it out. I didn't even tell her, it was Tim that had spotted me at the Slash J at work. I'm the only white-headed kid in town, so it was easy to recognize me. Once she heard, she was real mad. Twisted Steve by the ear, so I'm told.

A week later, we learned that Buck was officially my legal guardian now. He was named my sole caretaker if my Godfather, Lancelot, was unable to care for me. It was Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, but since they're not longer with us either, it was up to my parent's will to determine who I would stay with. Due to some confusion, Buck and Darry got split custody of me, and I was allowed to stay with whoever whenever, as long as I stayed out of too much trouble, otherwise, it was the boy's home for me. (Idc if this is how legal stuff works, okay, PLOT)

Plot twist, I didn't stay out of much trouble, but evaded the boy's home somehow. Two-Bit and Dally are always coming up with something stupid to land us in the cooler.

The months following our parents' deaths, I grew closer with Darry and Soda, even Pony to a degree. I mostly stay with the Curtis Bros, but occasionally will be at Buck's. I couldn't bring my dog, Buckaroo with me to Darry's, so I had to leave him with Buck. Sometimes, Dally will be there, as well, and challenge me to pool. All in all, I'm glad I have the Curtis Gang, and would do anything for 'em, no matter what.

The fuzz once picked me up because Dally had stolen a car, but I said I did it. Bastard still owes me a pack of smokes for that....

[blueplanettrash]

“No, I Do Remember” (Part 2)

Here you go guys! Hopefully, I’ll be able to get stories rolling out every day again. We had our first snow day of the year today and it’s still going strong now at 5PM. I would post a picture but you’d just be seeing a white screen. I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Shiro carefully set his gifts on the other paladin’s plates before they arrived. It really did make him feel better, he hadn’t been able to spend Christmas at home for such a long time and he really did worry about his mother and grandfather. He had seen the decorations that lined the hallways as he made his way to the dining hall and he had to hand it to Lance, they really were beautiful. He heard the door open and he turned to the open door, smiling at Keith as he walked over the threshold. He was followed closely by Pidge, who slipped in right after him.

“Hey Shiro,” Pidge said cheerfully as she sat down in her seat. Immediately, her hands reached out to take the small rabbit off of her plate and investigate it. She looked up at Shiro curiously and opened up her mouth before she was interrupted by Hunk as he shouldered his way out of the kitchen with several dishes in his hands.

“Whoa Hunk, do you need help?” Shiro asked as he got up and quickly approached him.

“Nope, don’t worry about it,” he quickly replied, easily setting the dishes down in the centre of the table. He uncovered them with a flourish, releasing the delicious aroma trapped inside. There were loud sniffs as each of the paladin’s inhaled the scent and quickly started taking from the plates as Hunk watched them with a smile.

“This is so good!” Keith groaned stuffing a spoonful into his mouth.

“Where’s Lance? He really outdid himself,” Shiro asked Hunk, assuming that he just helped him carry out the dishes. Hunk blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Actually I made this, Lance let me make another one of my family’s dishes,” he admitted with a small smile.

“Well, it’s really good Hunk!” Shiro said with a smile. He focused back on his plate. He would really have to go and find Lance afterward and thank him. It was kind of understandable if Lance let one of them take his turn but it was pushing it with letting two of them.

“Did you help Lance with these?” Pidge voice suddenly cut through his thoughts and he looked up at the girl.

“No, those are mine, Lance let me make those instead,” he said. At his words Pidge froze, almost dropping the paper figure in her hand.

“Wait, he let you take that too?” She asked. Confused Shiro nodded and waited for her to explain.

“Lance let me make one of my family’s desserts again today,” she said quietly. They all froze and stared at her. Three. He let them have three of his traditions on his day.

“He-he put up those decorations right?” Hunk asked glancing around the table at them.

“No, those are mine,” Keith said shaking his head. They gaped at one another.

“He didn’t do anything?” Pidge asked in disbelief.

“But he didn’t even complain or anything,” Keith argued in shock.

“You all know how Lance is, even if we were hurting him he wouldn’t complain,” Shiro said. They nodded their heads in agreement and looked down at the table.

“How could we have been so selfish?” Hunk asked the quiet room.

“Because we knew that Lance was too nice to say no?” Keith suggested to the room. They didn’t say anything, knowing that it was true. When they woke up that morning, they knew that Lance wouldn’t say no to them. Even though they knew that Lance was excited to share his traditions, they were only thinking of themselves and what they wanted.

“We have to make this right,” Keith stated.

“Does anybody know anything about Lance’s traditions?” Shiro asked glancing at each one of the paladins. Keith shrugged almost immediately, it wasn’t that surprising since they weren’t really friends in the Garrison. Instead, he turned his attention to Pidge and Hunk who both looked to be deep in thought.

“This might be a long shot but the few years we were at the Garrison, he always brought a new stuffed animal back after Christmas,” Hunk suggested looking up at them.

“What about food or desserts?” Shiro asked. He was ashamed to admit that he didn’t know Lance all that well. They hadn’t really talked about their families to each other, none of them have.

“Sorry, I don’t know,” Hunk said shaking his head sadly.

“Well, we’ll just have to work with the stuffed animal,” he started going towards the door, the others trailing behind him.

In was easy to come up with an idea for a stuffed animal. Lance absolutely adored Blue so they decided to make a small plush version of her. It came out soft and fluffy, perfect for someone like Lance.

“I hope he'll like it,” Hunk said anxiously, wringing his hands together.

“Of course he’ll like it Hunk, its Blue,” Pidge said coming up beside him and patting him on the back.

“I know, but it just feels like we’re not doing enough, I mean, this is his family we’re talking about, it had to be a huge punch in the gut for us to do this,” Hunk rambled. They looked down to the ground again as the realization washed over them. He was right, above everything, Lance cared about his family the most. Christmas had to be super important to him and they took that away from him.

“We’ll spend however long it takes to make it up to him,” Keith declared, determination shining in his eyes. They cheered in agreement.

“Alright guys, let's go see Lance,” Shiro said walking down the hallway to the quarters.

They stood silently in front of Lance’s door, listening for any sign of movement. Although they hoped that he was in there, at the same time they were nervous to confront him. Before they could hesitate any longer, Shiro knocked on the door.

“Lance?” He called. Only silence greeted him and he glanced over his shoulder to gauge the other’s reactions. He knocked once more. Silence. He reached over and pushed the scanner.

“Whoa,” Their mouths opened in awe as they looked around the room. The simple garland that Lance made glowed softly throughout the room. They twinkled as if there were fairies floating around. They quietly stepped over to Lance’s bed and saw him curled into his blankets fast asleep. Their stomachs clenched when they saw the obvious tear tracks on his skin.

“Lance?” Shiro quietly said, shaking his shoulder gently. Lance let out a muffled groan and opened his eyes slightly. At the sight of the others, he curled up tighter and turned around to his other side, his back now facing the paladins. He clenched his eyes shut as tears rolled over his nose and pooled by his ear. The pain he felt earlier was still raw and seeing the others didn’t help it at all.

“What do you want?” He asked bitterly. They flinched slightly at the tone, it didn’t sound like Lance at all. They glanced at each other before turning back to look at Lance.

“We’re so sorry Lance,” Pidge started quietly. Lance didn’t turn to look at them. Sure they were sorry, but that could only be saying that because they don’t know what’s wrong.

“We shouldn’t have asked to take your day, it wasn’t right and you were just as excited as all of us to do this,” Keith said. Lance tensed up. Keith’s voice was trembling like he was getting ready to cry.

“We were selfish Lance and we’re so sorry,” Hunk cried. Okay. Hunk was definitely in tears behind him. He really didn’t want to turn around now. If he did then he would start crying even harder then he was before. The longer he listened, he could hear different people crying and sniffling.

“We knew that you wouldn’t be able to say no to us and we took advantage of that, we’re so sorry,” Shiro said. Unlike the others, it seemed like Shiro was able to keep face. He never thought that they would have come to apologize to him. He didn’t think that what happened would be important in their eyes. Sure it hurt him, but he thought that they would just ignore what happened. He gave them his permission after all.

“Will you forgive us?” Shiro asked. This time his voice was smaller. Lance pushed himself up and turned to look over at them. His eyes widened at the scene before him.

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk were clutching on to the shoulders of Shiro’s shirt. They were rubbing their eyes and sniffling but trying to look determined at Lance like a bunch of children who just fell and scraped their knee and were trying to pretend it didn’t hurt. That alone made Lance’s heart squeeze, but it was Shiro that had him lunging forward to collect them in a hug. He was bowed forward, his head lowered and was holding out a plushie version of Blue to Lance in trembling hands. His head was partly hidden by the stuffed animal but Lance could still see tears dropping from his eyes. He looked like he was holding his breath to stop any sounds from coming out. The guilt on his face was as plain as day.

He wrapped his arms around Shiro, snagging as much as he could of the others in his grip from behind Shiro’s back.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. And it was okay, they apologized and that’s all that he wanted out of them. For them to recognize their mistakes and learn from them.

“How can you forgive us so easily?” Pidge asked, curling her hand in the back of Lance’s shirt.

“We hurt you,” Hunk added.

“You came to make it up to me, there’s been a lot of people who haven’t even tried to do that,” Lance started, he squeezed his arms tighter around Shiro. “I know you guys, I know that you won’t try to do this again, I know that you can learn and you never meant to hurt me,”

They nodded in agreement and curled closer to him, tears still streaming down their faces. Lance couldn’t help but smile at them. Hurt and guilt can only last so long, and it helps to have people that care about you, who can make them go away even quicker.

Part 1/2