#dad tags on ''remember when I forced you to take your pills when you were sick?''

[whumperooni]

Scorched

Pairing: Enji x Reader

Word count: 7.2k

Tags/Warnings: A/B/O; tw breeding kink; tw noncon/dubcon; tw angst/no happy ending; rough sex; tw dumbification (i think?)

A/N: Uhhh, this ended up a lot different than I originally intended. I might do a rewrite in the future/alternate ending? Who knows! Sorry for the angst at the end;;;;

“....Natsuo? Are you- are you sure this is really okay?” You feel bad for asking, but you can’t help letting the question slip out- it feels so...not wrong per say, but it feels so very much like you’re intruding as you look at the looming Todoroki estate. It’s so big- fancy and traditional, beautiful and intimidating- and you bite your lip in worry as you eye it, grip your suitcase tighter. Someone like you doesn’t belong in a place so grand. “Of course it’s okay! Fuyumi was psyched when I told her you were gonna stay the weekend with us!” Natsuo pops his head out from the trunk of the cab and he sends an easy grin your way- sweet, but doing little to ease your nerves. “But, um…what about your dad?” you mumble, shuffling in place and sending the home in front of you an anxious glance. “I don’t think...I don’t think he’d want some random stranger-” “It’s fine.” It’s curt, his voice. Cold. You flinch from it and guilt pokes at you- you know your friend has...issues with his father (though he won’t really talk about them) and you feel bad about bringing up someone that upsets him. (Though, it is a fair question- the house belongs to Enji Todoroki. And you really don’t want to get on the number one hero’s bad side.) You bite your lip, head ducking, and miss the way that Natsuo’s eyes soften at your submittance. You do catch the sigh he lets out, though, and the way his hand falls to the top of your head. He offers another smile- something smaller and a little tired, somewhat less easy than the first- and he pets your hair with a gentle touch that almost has you purring. “It’s fine,” he tells you- softer and without the ice from before. “I promise. Dad is never home and, well, even if he does come home, it’ll be okay. It’s really no big deal.” You doubt that, but you don’t protest anymore- you just nod your head like a good girl and offer him a hesitant smile in return. “Okay, Natsuo,” you mumble. You force your smile a little bigger and take a breath, nod again. “Besides, we’re already here.” When your smile grows this time, it’s more natural. “And I can’t possibly pass up your sister’s famous cooking.” Natsuo grins and he ruffles your hair, grabs your suitcase before pulling away. “C’mon then- Fuyumi’s waitin’ for us.” You huff, but you follow after him- smiling just a little to yourself despite the nerves quietly jittering and fading away underneath your skin. You have always wondered what Natsuo’s family home looks like. And you’ve really wanted to meet Fuyumi after hearing so much about her from her brother. She seems nice, enthusiastic and you really do want to get to know someone that’s so important to your friend- it’ll be nice to finally meet her. You smile at the thought and step through the gateway and onto the Todoroki estate. You immediately seize up and freeze. Everything smells like...cinnamon whiskey. Cigars. Hot metal. Scorching, fierce, searing heat. It smells like alpha. (It smells good.) “...you okay?” You startle- eyes wide and hands shaking. You hadn’t realized that you had stopped- hadn’t realized that you had frozen up like a newly presented omega smelling an alpha for the first time. You touch the scent blocker plastered to your neck and breathe in deep through your mouth, try to gather yourself before Natsuo can worry even more. (What a pathetic, embarrassing response. You’ve been presented for so long now- you should be used to these things. You shouldn’t be frozen and startled with beads of sweat prickling at your hairline, your heart pounding in a frenzy against your rib cage. ….but god, though, that scent is something else- faint now that you’ve gotten used to it but still so...so… So striking. Just a whiff had frozen you in place and you know it’s just from the way Enji-san has marked the territory with a fierce, protective nature but, still, that’s remarkable. A little scary. It makes you nervous over how you’d react if you ran into the real thing.) You gulp and your fingers press tighter against your neck, push at your blocker as if it’ll make it work even better. ...you should probably take another suppressor soon. (You really hope they’ll withstand Endeavor if he comes home.) A shaky breath and you force a smile on your face, wrap your arms around yourself as you take a trembling step forward. “S-Sorry,” you apologize, a breathless laugh leaving you. It sounds quivering and overwhelmed- something so embarrassing. You fluster and hurry forward until you’re by Natsuo’s side, look up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “I’m okay.” He eyes you, puzzled, and you feel a rush of gratitude that he’s a beta- that he can’t catch your overwhelmed scent that’s flared up at his father’s own scent. (You can only imagine how well that would go if he were to find out.) “I’m fine, I promise,” you tell him more earnestly. You wrap your hands around his arm and flash him a big smile, hope that’s enough to erase his worry. “Let’s hurry so we can settle in and I can meet your big sis, huh?” Natsuo eyes you, but he nods and starts walking, tugs you along toward the waiting home. “Yeah, come on,” he says with a faint smile. “Let’s go.” You walk with him and try to ignore the fluttering in your chest, the way a scalding scent is swirling around you. ~~~~~~~~~~~ “Natsuo, I can’t believe it took so long for you to bring her here!” Natsuo grins, hand rubbing the back of his neck, and you duck your head with a smile as Fuyumi wraps you up in a quick hug. She smells nice- like vanilla and spiced oranges- and it’s almost a disappointment when she pulls away to smile down at you. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she tells you- warm and cheery. “Natsuo’s told me so much about you!” You blush- you can’t help it- and you gently elbow Natsuo in the side whenever he laughs. “He’s told me a lot about you too,” you say- maybe just a little shy but smiling all the same. “Fuyumi, I’m gonna go put her stuff in the guest room,” Natsuo pipes up. “Is dinner almost done?” Fuyumi nods and Natsuo grins- pleased as punch as he begins to walk away. You remember your need for suppressants and quickly reach a hand to grab onto Natsuo’s jacket, look up at him with sheepish eyes whenever he cocks a brow your way. “I, um, need something from my suitcase,” you tell him- trying not to let stray embarrassment show on your face. “I’ll go with you.” He just shrugs and you scamper after him- waving to Fuyumi with a little smile. The house is big- bigger than you had realized. It’s as nice on the inside as it is on the outside- very traditional and very simplistic, elegant. You can tell that everything is expensive and well taken care of on top of that. It’s nothing like the little house in the ‘burbs that you grew up in and, honestly, you would be lying if you said you weren’t in awe as you followed Natsuo throughout his family home. It’s so nice. You feel guilty for being in it for some reason- like your presence is going to somehow dirty such an immaculate, dignified home. It’s a ridiculous feeling, but you still find yourself sticking closer to Natsuo than you normally would, you find your hands curling up against your chest as you walk so they don’t brush against anything. “My room is just across the hall,” Natsuo informs you, pointing ahead. “So if ya need anything, you can knock.” You nod when he looks at you and eye his room in interest whenever he looks away. You’re kind of curious over what your friend’s room looks like- it’s nosey, maybe, but you can’t help but want to peek your head in and poke around. The room that Natsuo shows you to is plain- nice but plain; clearly a guest room. It’s going to be strange sleeping on a futon- you’ve always had a bed-, but somehow you’re kind of excited for it. It’s a little...novel? A new experience. “The bathroom’s down the hall on the left,” Natsuo tells you as he sets your suitcase down. You nod and he stretches his arms high above his head, shows off a sliver of a toned stomach that you politely avert your eyes from. “I’ll give you some time to settle in and then we’ll join Fuyumi for dinner?” You nod, smiling at him, and hum out a little, “Yeah, that sounds good.” Natsuo smiles in return and then he turns to leave. As soon as the door is closed behind him, you rush to your suitcase and unlock it with fumbling, clumsy hands. Enji-san’s scent is stronger inside the house- you absolutely need to make sure you take your suppressants. You paw through your suitcase looking for the little bottle of pills, getting frantic when it’s not in the side pocket you thought you had put it in. It’s not stuffed underneath your clothes or in your makeup bag either and you start to panic then, empty your suitcase onto the floor to sift through everything. It’s...it’s not there. How is it not there? An upset noise claws its way up your throat and you turn from your suitcase and toward your purse. There’s an emergency little pill case in there, but it only has two suppressants- enough for tonight and tomorrow. Not enough if Enji-san comes home. Hand clenching around the case, you swallow hard and try to calm down. Natsuo said that his father shouldn’t come home this weekend- that he’s rarely ever home. It should be fine; you should be okay. If...if he comes home, you’ll just have to make an excuse and leave. Or try to bear it- though you really doubt you’ll be able to. God, maybe you should ask Fuyumi if she has any? They won’t be near strong enough for you, but in a pinch… You’d have to explain why you need them, though, and that’s almost as embarrassing as Natsuo finding out that your oversensitive omegan senses are prickling in instinctual interest at his father’s territorial scent. God, being a fecund is such a pain. You whine to yourself softly- cheeks flushed in guilt and hand hurting from holding onto the pill case so tight. It’s an embarrassing situation, but it’s your fault for forgetting your suppressants at home so you’re just going to have to suck it up and deal with it. (And pray that the number one hero is kept busy chasing criminals all night long) You swallow and tuck your pills back into your purse, begin to put everything back into your suitcase. It’ll be okay, you tell yourself. He’s not going to come home. I’m going to be okay. Nervously, you tidy up after yourself and try to pretend that there’s nothing wet between your legs. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “-and now my class is not allowed to have pencil grips.” You giggle, not able to help it, and hide it behind your hand, smile at Natsuo whenever he shoots you a grin. Fuyumi is unexpectedly funny- you’re really enjoying yourself. (Even with your nerves still so frayed and your instincts still trying to react to Enji-san’s strong, strong scent.) You swallow, smile wavering, and hide it with a quick drink of wine. The Todoroki’s have very good wine- of course they do. It’s a luxury for you to enjoy- you usually end up grabbing the cheapest bottle from the corner store; you hardly ever get to enjoy something top shelf. You take another sip of the wine and blush whenever Fuyumi looks over you, set it down hastily. She doesn’t say anything- only smiles gently- and that helps you relax back down, gets you smiling back at her- albeit a bit abashedly. You hope that she hasn’t picked up on your stress- it would be much, much too embarrassing if your best friend’s older sister knew that you were battling against the way their father’s scent is trying to pull you into need. “Aren’t you taking them on a field-” A trilling ring cuts Natsuo off and he huffs at that, checks his phone and then smiles apologetically at you both. “Sorry, that’s my lab mate,” he explains. “I gotta take this- we’re working on a group project.” You nod along with Fuyumi and Natsuo gets up and walks out of the room- leaving you alone with his older sister and a quick ripple of nerves that has your fingers curling into your palms. There’s quiet for a moment and you bite your lip in a sudden whip of shyness, take another sip of wine. Fuyumi merely watches and smiles at you, fingers her own glass. “Are you alright?” she asks, just a bit softly. She tucks her hair behind her ear whenever you blink at the question, bites her lip and looks almost guilty for a moment. “I, um, I know that it can be a little jarring coming here for the first time. Dad kind of...well, he kind of gets carried away with marking his territory…” Oh, fuck. You choke on your spit as your eyes widen and Fuyumi hastily raises her hands, blushes as she waves them around. “I’m sorry! I didn’t want to bring it up, but I know that it can be hard to deal with and I’m sure that Natsuo didn’t warn you! And, well, you’re a fecund so it’s worse for you and I just- I just wanted to make sure you’re okay!” Natsuo told her? Embarrassment, shame runs through you and you have to bite your lip to hide a noise that wants to sound, you dig your nails into your thighs as upset washes over you. You don’t like telling people that you’re a fecund. You don’t like people knowing that you’re such a weak, pathetic thing. Who else has he told? Worry ripples through you and there’s an undercurrent of betrayal; Natsuo knows how hard you try to keep your status a secret and it hurts that he spilled it- even if it was just to his older sister. Fuyumi must be able to see the upset on your face- her own expression softens and there’s regret in it, something apologetic in her eyes. She doesn’t seem to be judging you or looking down on you and it helps, a little, but you still can’t quite reel in your frustration despite your instinctual efforts to do so. Great- now you’ve made things uncomfortable. Good going, idiot. Your lips quiver and you force a smile to form, clench your hands into fists tight enough to make all your fingers ache. “I…” You have to clear your throat to compose yourself, keep the hurt and shame from your voice. “I...I’m okay.” There’s a flicker of disbelief in her eyes, but it disappears quickly and your cheeks burn as her gaze turns pitying. “...if you need anything, please let me know,” Fuyumi tells you gingerly, kindly. It should be comforting, but it only brings more embarrassment and you hate yourself a little bit for not feeling grateful like you should. “Dad shouldn’t...he shouldn’t be home tonight. And, um, if he does come home, it wouldn’t be for long...I- I’ll warn you if he says anything about turning up…” You wince internally and all you can is nod, hang your head as you whisper out a strained, “thank you.” It’s quiet after that, uncomfortable. Fuyumi, for her part, looks guilty but she doesn’t try to say anything more. The silence only gets broken whenever Natsuo returns and you force a smile on your face even if you can’t quite look at him, even as your heart hurts and your nails dig deeper into your palms. You take a long drink of your wine and listen as he starts chattering about his project, stare at the table as worry and upset crowd your mind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Several glasses of wine later, your upset is forgotten. Your worry is still there, but it’s blurred under your fuzzy senses, easier to deal with. Or, accept, maybe? It’s hard to say, but you do know that you’re more relaxed- not frantically fighting against Enji-san’s scent but softening into it, letting yourself be tugged slowly into the submissive thing you were born to be. It’s almost comforting now, that simmering scent. You’re starting to feel...hazy. Loose and small but in a good way. Though, that could be from the wine. It could be from the way you’ve found yourself snuggled up and purring against Natsuo’s chest. It’s a good contrast- the toasty scent clouding your senses and your best friend’s cool, soothing touch. You’re not overwhelmed by one or the other and it’s easier to maintain yourself when you can press your flushed cheek against Natsuo’s shoulder, burrow your nose into his neck and inhale his neutral, cleansing scent. A purr works its way through you and you curl your fingers into Natsuo’s shirt, knead at the fabric and look up at him with half-shut eyes. He’s flushed, like you, and there’s a content smile on his face, something in his eyes that you can’t put a name to. He looks happy. That’s good- you want him to be happy. Your purr ups its tempo and Natsuo laughs a little- though you’re not sure why. His hand smooths over your hair and a chirp slips from your lips whenever it travels down to your back, starts to rub slow, cool circles along you. “You’re so soft right now,” Natsuo mumbles. “I’ve never seen you like this…” He hasn’t? Oh, you suppose not… You hum and let your eyes shut, sigh contently when the arm wrapped around your waist holds you a bit more snug to him. Like this, you can almost forget your hurt from before. Almost. You shake your head against him as you feel your upset try to bubble to the surface, curl your fingers tighter into his shirt. You don’t want to be upset and stressed again. You just- you just want to relax. You just want to keep feeling nice and dreamy and a little thick. The sound of footsteps has your eyes creaking open and you blink slowly toward Fuyumi when you spot her in the doorway of Natsuo’s room. She looks...worried? You don’t know why, feel guilty over it for some reason. When you chirp softly at her, her brows furrow and you nearly get up to take her by the hand, draw her into your nest so you can nuzzle her until her worry goes away. Nest...no, wait, no. It’s not a nest you’re in- it’s Natsuo’s futon. His big, comfy futon with its cool sheets and soft pillows, fluffy padding. How did you get into his futon again? (How much did you drink?) You blink again, a little confused, and miss the way Fuyumi bites her lip, the way she hugs herself and casts a nervous look Natsuo’s way. “Natsuo…” You feel him shift underneath you and that rocks your world a bit, has your eyes shutting once more. You don’t catch the words she whispers or what Natsuo says in return, but you do feel the way Natsuo hugs you a little closer whenever Fuyumi’s so very pleasing scent drifts away and it gets drowned out by Enji-san’s so very dominating one. Cool fingers brush against your cheek and slip along your jawline, down under your chin. You whine, softly, whenever Natsuo tilts your head up to look up at him and blink heavily under his scrutinizing gaze. Why is he looking at you like that? “...are you okay?” he asks, after a few seconds of silence. Your head tilts in question and Natsuo huffs gently. “...when was your...when was your last heat?” Your last heat? You can’t remember your last heat, not really. It was drugged and fuzzy, horrible with your leaden limbs and the way you were all alone without an alpha. You’ve...you’ve never had an alpha during your heat. You’ve never had an alpha at all, actually. But- but there’s an alpha here. You can smell him. He’d take care of you- he should be taking care of you. Where is he- where is- Your lashes flutter with furious blinks and a sharp inhale has you almost choking on the scent cloying your senses. You shiver and nearly scratch Natsuo as you grip at his shirt tighter, flush in muffled embarrassment when you vaguely realize where your mind was going. Oh...oh you shouldn’t have drank so much. The moment of clarity helps to jar your mind into something almost functioning and you shudder, squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t have to see your best friend’s concern. “Natsuo...I…” You trail off, swallow back a whine that wants to sound. “Can you...my purse...I have- need to take my suppressor…” You feel the deep breath he takes, feel the way his arm around you tightens. There’s a swallow from Natsuo- audible and something that has you feeling guilty- and then his hand pats your hair, he moves to sit up. “Yeah...yeah. Give me a sec.” You don’t want to move. You don’t want to let him up- you were so comfortable before. But your clarity is lingering and you know that you need him to fetch your pills for you, you know that you can’t sink further into this. (Stupid girl, how could you weaken so much?) Reluctantly, you sit up and out of the way. The smile that Natsuo gives you is a little strained, but the way he ruffles your hair is kind, gentle. When he gets up, you move to curl against the pillows and that’s when you feel something slick on your thighs, that’s when you realize that your panties are wet. When did that happen? Did- did Natsuo know? Did Fuyumi know? You don’t- you don’t understand- when- Embarrassment claws its way out of you in the form of a whimper and shame chases after it- panic, too. You swipe at the slick on your thighs almost frantically and whine as you try to scrub it away, tear up in drunken upset. Humiliating. You manage to rub the tears away before Natsuo comes back, but you’re not quite able to get your wobbling bottom lip under control. He startles in the doorway when he sees you and you hang your head in shame, don’t look at him whenever he passes a small pill and a glass of water to you. The water is soothing, at least. The pill is soothing, too- you know it’ll kick in soon and you’ll be able to gain control of yourself, pull back from the path you were wandering down. Natsuo sits quietly beside you as you drain the glass and you sniffle your embarrassment, hunch your shoulders tight. “...’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t...I don’t…” Natsuo’s arm wraps around you and his hand finds the side of your head, gently pushes you until you’re leaned up against him. “...it’s okay,” he sighs out. You flinch because you know it’s not okay- it’s not okay at all. You’ve ruined things. “You’re not- you’re not going into heat are you?” You wince and you shake your head, hide your face against his broad shoulder. It’s not a lie...you think. It’s just- you’ve just been overwhelmed is all. Overwhelmed and drunk. You’re not- of course you’re not. You can’t be… You grip the glass tight between your hands and shake your head against him, let out a shivery exhale. “I just...I just drank too much,” you mumble. “‘M sorry, Natsuo…” He sighs again, big hand moving to pet over your hair. The cool kiss he gives to your temple is a surprise and soft noise leaves you when his lips press to you, your tension unwinds whenever he nuzzles against you. “You don’t have to apologize,” he tells you- firm but so kind, so sweet. His lips find your temple again and something in you squirms, another soft noise bubbles up and out of your throat. “...are you okay staying here tonight? If you want, I can-” You shake your head before he can finish the suggestion. Even if you’re still fuzzy and drunk, you can’t let yourself be a further burden on your friend, his family- you’re going to have to just make it through the night here and deal with any embarrassment in the morning. ...you hope Natsuo won’t look down on you when you wake. “I-I’m okay,” you insist- words stumbled, fumbled. “I’m fine. Just- just drank too much.” You lift your head and force a smile on your face, grip the glass tight once more as you try not to tremble at the sight of his furrowed brow, his worried frown. Natsuo’s hand finds your cheek and you shudder at the touch, press into his palm and try to cling to your clarity. “I’m okay,” you repeat- softer and with lowered lashes. You reach up to touch his hand and press it more against his cheek, bite your lip when his eyes widen and then soften. “I promise…” He stares down at you and you blink up at him. It’s quiet quiet quiet until Natsuo breathes in deep, gives a small nod. “Okay...I...okay…” He breathes in deep again and you let your hand drop, close your eyes whenever his moves from you as well. “Do you want...do you want to watch a movie or something?” Natsuo suggests- awkward, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. You nod because, yes, that does sound nice and, honestly, what else can you do? Natsuo moves to get comfortable and you hesitate for a moment before creeping close to him, curling up against his chest. The arm he wraps around you is firm, helps you believe that maybe he doesn’t think you’re a gross and pathetic thing. You don’t want Natsuo to think you’re gross. You don’t want him to think you’re pathetic. Natsuo puts a movie on and you close your eyes, curl your fingers into his shirt. He pets over you and you try to sink into the softness from before, avoid drowning too much in it. You drift off- dizzy and still washed over in shame, still wet between your thighs. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ...thirsty. Eyes creaking open, lips parting with a croak, you peel yourself off of Natsuo and rub your eyes with shaking hands. Thirsty. Hungry. Hot. You fumble out of the futon and Natsuo doesn’t stir, doesn’t move as you crawl away from him and stand on weak legs. Feels...you feel… ...fuzzy? You shiver and hug yourself, find your palms wet whenever they touch against your arms. Hot and cold. Doesn’t- doesn’t make sense. You’re- you’re- Thirsty. Hungry. Hot. Cold. Fuzzy. ...lonely? But Natsuo is still there...you shouldn’t be...but...he’s not- he’s not… You shake your head and rub your hands over your arms, look back toward the hallway. You’re just...you just need...you just need some water. That’s it...that’s- that’s all you need… You squeeze your eyes shut tight until stars spark up behind your lids, breathe in deep to try to clear your head. ...you’re fine. You just need some water. Another deep breath and you head toward the kitchen, dig your fingers deeper into your arms. Is it hotter in the house? It takes a moment for you to find the glasses. You try to be as quiet as you can, but your hands won’t stop shaking for reasons you don’t want to think about it. It’s...it’s hard to think anyway. Why is it so hard to think? You fill the glass with cold water and wince when your trembling hand causes droplets to splash onto you, wet your digits. You down the water faster than you have ever done before, fill the glass back up as soon as you’re done. You’re still so thirsty. You’re still so hot. Does...does it smell more like cinnamon too? Does it...can you taste whiskey on your tongue? A soft noise works its way up your throat and your lashes flutter, your thighs press together. You clutch at the counter when your knees threaten to buckle, spill the water into the sink at the sound of heavy footsteps. What...who… You whimper and turn your head toward the doorway- movements so sluggish and a gasp catching in your throat, sweat beading along your hairline. Enji-san- Enji- alpha- Flames lick into the kitchen and you slump against the counter, whimper once more as turquoise eyes stare you down. What is he- he’s not supposed to- he’s- “Al- alpha…” Enji takes a step toward you and your knees buckle, your nails scratch against the counter as you desperately try to keep yourself upright. Not supposed to be here. He’s not- he’s not- why is he- alpha- alpha- alpha smells so good- Your lashes flutter and your head tilts back with a moan, your mind clouds over even as panic pricks through you. Enji takes another step and a growl breaks through the quiet of the room, his shoe sole scorches a mark into the beautiful floor. “Who,” he rumbles out, “are you?” Your palm slips from the counter and your legs tremble, you start to fall to your knees. A thick arm wraps around your waist and drags you back up before you can hit the floor, crushes you against a broad chest. You go limp in the hold and shudder whenever fingers tilt your head up to look at him, whine softly as they splay down and brush over your throat. They’re so...they’re so warm. Big. Thick. Such nice fingers, so wonderful. You want them in you. You want alpha to- to- Oh, god, what are you thinking? A growl answers the whimper that leaves you and you whine, weakly reach a hand to his chest to try to push yourself away. “Behave.” Your hand falls. His scent flares. Your lashes grow wet and his hold on you tightens, his eyes grow darker. His fingers roam over your neck and your own twitch, your chest hitches with little pants and gasps. You don’t quite realize he’s found your scent blocker until it’s peeled off and a groan is leaving him and, by then, there’s nothing you can do about it. There’s nothing you want to do about it. (But you do- you do! He’s- he’s Natsuo’s- you can’t- you can’t!!!) A snarl sounds and you squirm at it, mewl whenever you’re dragged up higher and his nose glances along your jaw, drags down to bury against your scent glands. “Fecund.” The word reverberates against your heated flesh and it’s accompanied by rough fingers digging into you, hot air fanning over your throat. Tears leak down your cheeks, but you can’t tell if it’s from overwhelming need or from fear. Both, maybe, but how can you decide on that when your whole body is trembling, when your senses are flooded with a spicy scent, when your cunt is dripping with your slick. Teeth graze over your scent glands and you whine, grip at broad shoulders and cling to your best friend’s father. You’re thrown over one of those shoulders before you can tell what’s happening and left gasping, scratching along Enji’s back and whining whenever his hand smacks against your ass. “Alpha!” A snarl is all you get in response. You’re carried through the house- down the hallway, past the guest room, past Natsuo’s bedroom. Shades of shame have more tears dripping down your cheeks and you sob as you’re hauled off past your sleeping friend, tremble as you try to rock against Enji in search for some pathetic pleasure you so desperately need. Is alpha taking you to your nest? You want- you wanna be in your nest. You wanna- you wanna be- A door gets flung open and you’re dropped onto a futon, left blinking stupidly up at Enji as he brackets himself over you and bares his teeth. He’s so big. So- so big. Perfect for taking care of you, perfect for protecting you, perfect for breeding you. You chirp at the thought and reach up to him, purr whenever he grabs your hand and presses his nose against your wrist. “Fuck...” It’s ragged, rough. Makes something tingle up your spine. Your purr rumbles louder at it and you coo when his teeth scrape against your wrist, whenever his hand reaches to your waist and pins you down. Alpha is so strong. Why were you...why were you worried before? You can’t remember… “Alpha,” you mumble- only half-aware of it, not quite able to see him as your head lolls and your back arches. “Want...want…” Enji groans against you and his scent doubles down, his grip on your waist becomes bruising. Hurts but it’s- it’s okay- alpha can- alpha can do whatever he wants. “Needy,” Enji growls, hand pushing up your shirt. You nod, whining, and he snarls- chest heaving and pupils tiny pinpricks, flames blooming feverishly. “Good mate.” Pleasure flares all throughout and you whimper as slick gushes from you, as your pussy throbs with your need, with the giddy joy and sheer thrill of being praised by such a strong alpha. Tears have your vision blurry and they bead over your lashes, drip and sear down your cheeks as you smile and shake. Good mate. You want...you want to be a good mate for alpha. Your alpha. A big hand rips your shirt off- Enji’s impatience tearing it to shreds and the fabric digging tight into your skin as he yanks it off and makes it into so many pieces. Your bra is reduced to cinders and the cry you let out from the heat only makes Enji snarl, only has him gripping your breasts with callused hands and giving a rough squeeze. “Tender little morsel,” he growls- brilliant eyes glazing over and a sizzling slather of drool gathering between his teeth. “Mine. Been so long- going to- fuck! Going to breed-” He cuts himself off with another snarl and you sob, reach up with shaking hands to grip at his shirt, desperately try to yank him down closer to you. “Ple- please! Alpha! Breed! Need- want pups! Your pups- Alpha! Alpha! Al-” (No- no- yes! Yes! NO! What are you saying? You can’t- you can’t- You want to be full so bad.) Tears stream down your cheeks as you choke on your pleading words. Enji doesn’t pay attention except to growl and bare his teeth at you, incinerate your shorts and panties. A whimper crawls from your throat as you're burned and marked, but the pain is forgotten when his teeth find your neck and his drool gets spread along it, when your legs are forced into an aching sprawl and he grinds himself mindlessly against your dripping cunt. Feels- feels good. Hurts so much. Feels so good. You need him inside you. You whine, speech forgotten and lips and tongue useless, your mind lost and swirling with need you could have never imagined before, would have feared to comprehend. It’s so hot and thoughts are truly gone from you now- all that’s left is instinct and need, the base and feral desire to be fucked and used and bred- for your purpose as a fecund to be fulfilled. (Why were you ever ashamed of your status? This is what you were born for- this is what’s bringing you such a pure happiness that you’re weeping and shaking and crying out) You don’t protest whenever your limp body is flipped over- just snivel and whine and rock your hips back against Enji- against Alpha. There’s no prep or build up or easing into it- Enji shoves his cock into you and you’re left screaming as pain and bliss sear through you in rough, overwhelming streaks. You collapse completely underneath him and come on his cock- blood dripping down along with your slick, your thick and honeyed juices. The lick to your neck helps soothe the pain and you mewl, allow your head to loll to offer your throat to him. Enji’s neverending growl deepens as his teeth scrape against your scent glands and his fingers bruise into your hips whenever you weakly clench around him, try to rock your hips despite the sting and stretch his cock brings, despite the way you’re aching so badly that you won’t be able to move tomorrow or the day after that. That’s okay, though- alpha will take care of you. Alpha...alpha will take care of you. You need him to take care of you. You can’t do anything without alpha. Enji’s hips draw back and you whine frantically at the thought of him withdrawing from you, claw at the futon and whimper out pleading, wordless mewls. You can’t have him pull away and leave you empty- you need him buried inside of you, you need him to keep you filled and full. Never leave you empty- always keep you full- you need it- you need it! Enji slams himself back into you fully and you sob as you’re filled completely again- body jarring forward with the force and his teeth tightening and digging deep into your throat. The growl that reverberates against your flesh has your body tightening, your claws tearing into soft padding. They rip through the fabric as his hips buffet against you harder and harder and tiny feathers begin to fly through the air, stick to your sweat soaked body as alpha fucks and fucks and fucks you. Through your blurred vision, it looks like snow swirling in the air- impossible coolness despite the heat burning through the room. You coo dreamily, blearily and something scratches in your mind, claws against the pleasure that dulls the pain and has all your senses so broken and drugged. Snow...cool...there’s someone- there’s a reason you shouldn’t be- who- Flaring flames scorch the feathers to ash and you shudder as they lick close to your skin, squeeze and spasm around the thick cock that’s shaping you into Enji’s perfect little hole to breed. (If he doesn’t burn you to a crisp first.) You whimper as he grunts, drip tears and cum and sweat. It’s too much. It’s not enough. You need more. You need his- you need alpha’s- you need- you need- “Kn- knot! S- seed!” The plea scratches out of your throat in a choked sob- hoarse and whiny, so needy and garbled. It’s loud enough that it covers the sound of running steps, desperate enough to make Enji roar out and shove your face into the futon, shove you down so low that your vision is halved by padding and tears as he spears his cock into you again and again and again- swelling knot catching on your slick, sore hole. Your cunt clenches down- gummy insides so desperate to be sprayed and stuffed with his scorching seed- and you’re left drooling over the futon- lashes fluttering and eyes threatening to roll back as begs get caught in your throat and stuttered out in pathetic, broken moans. Please please please wanna be filled wanna be filled so bad need seed need alpha to come need alpha to fill me alpha give me pups alpha breed me alpha please let me give you pups alpha breed your omega alpha breed your bitch alpha alpha alpha ALPHA ALPHA ALPHA- “ALPHA!” Enji comes and it hurts- his seed searing and blistering your insides, his knot slamming and sealing the boiling cum firmly in your spasming, screaming, creaming cunt. You’re yanked up by the hair and his teeth find your neck as you sob, break through your tender flesh as he marks you from the inside out. Tears drip down your cheeks and down your throat, mix with the blood that bubbles and beads through his teeth and past his lips. Hurts- hurts. But- but alpha came- alpha filled you. Alpha bred you. So you’re happy- so happy. A gurgling, broken coo sounds from you and you smile even as you tremble and fall so limp against Enji- smile even as Natsuo and Fuyumi run into the bedroom. Alpha growls against you- content- and a weak mewl leaves you when his tongue licks over his claim, when his scent falls heavy to begin to soothe you, tamp down the pain that is threatening to break you from your fog. “What did you- what did you- WHAT DID YOU DO?!” “Dad! You can’t! Why-” You clench around Enji and whimper at the intruders, twitch and shudder as your lashes flutter to a close. Want- want more- need alpha to- need him to breed you more… You pass out as Enji’s growl turns violent, as Fuyumi clamps a hand over her mouth and sobs over your blistered body and swollen stomach, as Natsuo screams his horror and rushes toward Enji- ice coating his hands and melting from the fierce heat of the room. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Alpha...when is alpha…I need him...when is coming home...?” “...soon. Rest now.” A mewl sounds and Natsuo’s heart breaks as he watches you snuggle down into your nest, tears threaten to sting at his eyes whenever you chirp softly at him, burrow your nose into one of his father’s sweaters. You’re so big. Soft and full and stupid. His best friend- his first one true love- has been reduced to nothing but a dumb little omega- a helpless thing who can’t do anything more than chirp and mewl for your alpha- for Enji. This is all his fault. He should have never brought you here. He should have known better. How could he be so stupid? Natsuo grits his teeth and clenches his hands- unable to turn his head from the way you curl around the small bump in your stomach that’s growing larger and larger each day. All he had wanted was to bring you home. All he had wanted was to introduce you to Fuyumi. All he had wanted was to spend time with you, hold you close and gather the courage to whisper his feelings to you. And now...now that’s all gone. The chance has been crushed to bits and he only gets this with you- watching over you and making sure you’re healthy, seeing the way his father’s seed is growing inside of you. He’s going to have another brother or sister. He hates it. He hates Enji. He hates you. ...he hates himself. He should have never brought you here. He should have whisked you away whenever Fuyumi whispered her nervous worries. He should have done so many things. A sigh leaves you- soft and content, sleepy as you run your hands over your stomach. Natsuo finally turns away and he leaves the room- tears wetting his lashes and the tiny shards of his broken heart shattering even smaller. He misses his best friend. He wishes he had never dragged you into his life. Natsuo heads to his room and you stay in your nest- smiling as you drift off, mind blank and all your screaming thoughts of your future and your fear muted by the scent of cinnamon whiskey and cigar smoke, hot metal and searing heat.

[limitlessgojo]

The More You Know

Warnings: NSFW Content

NSFW Tags: SMUT, Mutual masturbation, Squirting, over-sensitivity, Sex Education, unprotected sex, Bareback, dry humping, First time with Noritoshi, explicit content

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Smut, Fluff, Fem!Reader

NSFW Taglist: @fkngkumiko @gojoussunglasses @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Word Count: 3.5k

Notes: I tagged this to the best of my ability. As I've already said, minors please DNI with my NSFW works.

Previous Chapter: Home Sweet Home

Next Chapter: Big White Lies

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate.

Chapter 13.5

Utahime Sensei called both you and Noritoshi into her office one afternoon to give you "the talk." She’s aware that both of you are dating.

You and Noritoshi worriedly looked at each other before sitting down, across from her desk.

“There’s no need to be worried. You both haven’t done anything wrong. I just wanted to check up on the two of you.” She clarified. You both relaxed.

“Y/N, how are you adjusting to life on campus so far?”

“Ah, yes I’ve been adjusting well, thanks to everyone who has been helping me here and there. I’ve also grown used to the campus.”

“That’s great to hear. Looks like all of you first years are now settled in. Which brings me to my next question,” She started getting serious. "So, of course I know that both of you are dating. Teachers hear things from other students, it’s natural. Did you both get your parents’ permission to date each other?”

“Ah, yes, my mom and dad both know and said it’s okay for me to date senpai. They’ve been wanting to meet him as well. Next time when we are on break.” You said meekly.

Noritoshi quickly turned to you, eyes widening. Ah, you haven’t told him yet that they wanted to meet him. “They said it’s no big rush. We can do it over Christmas break.” Your voice quieted down.

“My parents have also approved of our relationship, as you know.” He put a hand to your back and spoke comfortingly. As always, your body relaxes under his warm touch. Hearing that made the knot in your chest slightly loosen up.

Utahime looked pleased at that. “That’s excellent to hear. Everything seems to be in order. And, have you both… you know… done "it" yet?"

Your eyes widened, then you flushed red before shaking your head. Noritoshi replied with a soft "No, we haven't." Face just as red as yours, before he forced it down.

The room suddenly felt stuffy and hot. Was this conversation really necessary?

“Ahem,” Utahime cleared her throat. “This is a very important conversation, and I want to make sure that both of you are engaging in consensual and safe sexual practices if you ever decide to do it. I’m aware that both of you are already of legal consenting ages here. That and it’s not uncommon for teenagers in Japan to do such.”

Gosh, just let this pass already, you thought to yourself, utterly mortified.

“So now I’ll talk you through the use of contraceptives and birth control then.” It was a mini sex education class with just the 3 of you.

And the rest of the afternoon was filled with a lot of do’s and don’ts and the explanation of how to use condoms. Noritoshi’s soul was practically leaving his body at the very thought.

“Don’t be shy to ask me for help in buying condoms or birth control pills. I’d rather both of you have safe sexual practices than not.” She ordered sternly.

You both quickly nodded, “Yes sensei.”

“Okay, that should be all. Then off you go.” She ushered you both out of her office, ready to prepare for another faculty meeting later.

After you both left the room, you slowly walked back to your dorm with Noritoshi close behind you. An unspoken agreement hung in the air as you filed into your dorm room.

He doesn’t come over to yours as often as you go over to his room, but he likes it. You’re happy that he doesn’t mind the numerous stuffed toys or fluffy blankets on your bed.

You served him some tea and mochi, not having spoken a word still. He stayed silent as well.

“....” your face was still red. Noritoshi found it almost funny and incredible, how it stayed red for such a long time. He reached out to cup your face.

You leaned into his touch. His hands were slightly cold, taking away some of the heat off your face.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to. For us I mean. Like what we just talked about now. I’m okay if you’re okay with it. Completely.” He stumbled over his words.

You nodded and reached out for a hug, which he gladly gave. Sitting on his lap, cradled in his arms. “I… I’m okay with it. The sex talk was just really embarrassing, but inevitable.”

You shyly looked up at him. He gave a weak smile in return, trying to slow down the blood rising to his face. His ears were still pink though.

"When we are both ready then." He hastily uttered before changing the topic. You giggled. He was more reserved than you expected.

◇◇◇

A week later...

You’ve both taken to reading Kamo no Hotaru’s diary entries together when you were both alone and undisturbed. One evening, during a rare moment of peace when both of you had no schedules, you stayed in Noritoshi’s room, laying on his bed. “Toshi! That entry! It matches our first shared vision together!”

“Right. I noticed that when I browsed over it too. He really…” Noritoshi trails off. You perk up and cuddle into his side, facing back to the diary, “What is it?”

He abruptly closes the book shut, face really red. It was a good thing this was a copy of the original, because of the way he roughly handled it.

Why. “Toshi!!! Lemme see~” you whined, grabbing the book. He couldn’t look you in the eye as he handed you the book. You eagerly flipped through to where you stopped.

Hotaru was describing his fight with his beloved Misaki. “She must have been the woman in my visions then huh.”

Noritoshi buried his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck. You stared at him. His face and ears were on fire. “Toshi, are you not feeling well? Fever?” You pressed a palm onto his forehead. He shook his head and snuggled into your hand. The blush settled down rather quickly.

This guy never fails to cheat with his body temperature huh.

Anyways, going back to the passage.

“Misaki was lovely tonight. She astounds me every single time she fights with those demons and curses. Just the most beautiful sight to behold.”

“Awww, what a dreamy man” you sighed. Noritoshi’s grip on you tightened.

“Tonight was the first night in my life that I was able to hold her so close to me. We went back to the inn and had our baths before going to bed. We only had one futon, since the inn was in some far off and secluded area. It was also full, so we had no choice. We ought to be getting back to the urbanised districts soon. Her hair smelled nice. I can’t forget how her cheeks turned dark red when I undressed her. Her soft mounds under my hands. -

You shut the book, closed your eyes and stuck your tongue out hard against the inside of your cheek. Total silence filled the room for like 5 minutes before you opened it and continued reading,

“I’ve never felt anything softer than Misaki. Every curve of hers was to my liking. Every sound she made was comparable to the voice of an angel’s. She tasted so sweet down below. I never thought I’d be one to have premarital sexual relations, but to hell with it all.”

Noritoshi peeked over your shoulder, arms still wound tightly around you with one eye open, reading the passage together with you.

“I will try to remember in vivid detail how exactly I’ve taken her. It was a rush of the moment sort of thing. She was such a shy thing, covering her eyes as I undressed in front of her.

Only to cry for me to fill her up moments later. I took my time with her, tasting and feeling every bit of her body. Not long after, I made love to her. Her insides were warm and molded perfectly to me.

We both felt like we were melting into each other. Our Crimson bindings out and about, floating around our bodies as we indulged each other in pleasure.

It was worth leaving everything behind, in order to experience this life with her. We had to take great care so as for Misaki to not bear a child as we are still in the midst of fighting battles with demons here and there."

“Damn that guy was desperate for some action.” You said out loud. Noritoshi choked hard on his spit at this. You didn’t even take your eyes off the ancient erotica you were reading as you reached out with one hand to pat Nori on the back.

“Not like they had condoms or contraceptives back then huh. How difficult.” You wondered. “Y/N I-” Noritoshi sputtered. You turned to him. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You what…” your eyes trailed down at the movement. All of the sudden there was a pillow on his lap. He turned away, forcing his hard-on to disappear.

Noritoshi was just a very sweet little thing. He was really taken aback with your lack of fluster at the moment.

Whenever he whispers into your ears and holds your hand you blush. He secretly loved nipping at you and playing with your fingers to make your face glow red.

Even when Utahime sensei gave both of you the talk, you looked mortified. But since that day, you seemed to have gained a layer of quiet confidence.

And here you were reading an old smutty diary entry with a straight face.

An unpleasant thought came to his mind as he blurted out, "Have you had any experience at all? With this…. These things?"

Your eyes widened, before you shook your head. "Mmm to be honest none at all. You're pretty much my first everything Toshi. First boyfriend. First kiss. First love. You know."

Noritoshi relaxed. "Me too, you're my first for everything." You smiled at him, moving to hug him before he grabbed your hand to stop you from going further. His other one tightened on the pillow on top of his crotch.

Ah.

You wanted to help him but… Is it too early for the both of you? You wanted to wait for Noritoshi to bring it up. Unfortunately, he doesn't make any moves.

He is still very much a gentleman, politely turning away and closing his eyes whenever you get dressed or undressed in the ensuite bathroom. And really, it did touch your heart at the fact that he was really so sweet with you.

“Toshi, do you want any help with that?” You set the diary down on the side table. He flinched before slowly turning to you.

“Do you not find it disgusting?” He asked weakly.

“Mmmm, not really." You crawled into his lap, your face now slightly pink. You wanted this. You wanted to see more of him, know more about his body underneath the wide and loose fitting clothes.

“If you don’t want me to, that's also okay. Like you said, we have time. This isn’t something to be rushed Toshi."

He looked up at you. Deep down he really wanted this. But he wasn't prepared for it to go this fast. He didn't buy any condoms, lube, or contraceptives for you at all. He still had yet to research on more safe sex practices.

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about you. We only talked about this the other day, I hope it's not too fast for you."

"I'm okay as well, no it's not too fast."

"As long as we are both fine with it, then it's okay."

"So… what do you want me to do?"

He turned bright red, not bothering to use his jujutsu to force it away. He wanted his body to be honest with you. "We don't have to go all the way now. Please touch me down... there. I'm clean. Just took a shower before you came in."

You nodded, tossing away the pillow on his lap as you undressed him. There were so many layers of clothing. Your mouth watered in anticipation upon seeing the outline of his erection clearly straining against his clothes.

And the one thing you've been looking forward to seeing. He parted his inner white yukata, revealing his abs and pecs. Holy shit. He is built and defined. With a solid 8 pack of abs, arms with biceps and triceps.

You gulped. Noritoshi stared at your reaction. "You like my body."

"Ah I do. Noritoshi, you're really pretty." You admitted.

Noritoshi shut his eyes and felt the last of his sanity fizzling out. Why aren't you close to him then?

"You took the words out of my mouth, pretty one." He pulled you to his chest, nipping at your ears and neck. He knew all your sensitive spots, easily making your body react to him.

"Toshiii, haa no it tickles" Shaking in his arms, you pressed against him, running your hands down his front.

"Looks like I really don't need to hold back with you." He growled, gripping you tighter.

You hooked your fingers on the waistband of his pants and pulled it down, revealing his length. It sprung up, pretty and already hard.

It was big, long, thick, with veins protruding, and the mushroom-like head was a blushing pink. You stared numbly, wondering how it would ever fit inside of you.

You cautiously fisted him. It was so hot and heavy, twitching in your hands. You pooled spit in your mouth before letting it drip onto the tip of his length, making him glide easier in your hands.

Noritoshi threw his head back at the action, breathing heavily. Small jolts of electricity ran through his body, upon feeling your lips on his chest and neck.

"Angel, it feels much better when you do it. I wanna make you feel good too, please." His voice is deeper than normal, sending shivers down your spine.

He didn't hesitate as he pulled off your top as you nodded. You felt self conscious, covering up your breasts. "No need to hide from me. You're a gorgeous sight for sore eyes." Noritoshi pushed away your arms and sucked on your tits, making you gasp out.

"Toshi."

"Mmmm." He swirled his tongue around your nipples, playfully tugging and sucking on them like they were candy. Your pants and underwear were quickly discarded, leaving you bare.

Cold air hit your entrance, making you tense up. Noritoshi's hands stroked your legs until they settled on your ankles.

"Spread your legs for me," he murmured. You couldn't say no to that. You slowly widened them, inch by inch, the bed creaking underneath you.

He stared at your wet opening, parting your lower lips. It was glistening with slick. He dragged two fingers over them. Sinking in his fingers and groaning at the sensation of your walls. It was hotter and wetter than he expected it to be.

"Here I was, trying to stop myself from losing control over you, only to find out you've wanted me too." He scoffed. You grew more and more aroused at hearing his voice become deeper, just slowly nodding in agreement, unable to speak. The only sounds coming from your mouth were moans and whimpers of his name.

Squelching noises filled the quiet room as he began to experiment with your body. Nothing escaped Noritoshi. He stared at you, watching and analysing your reactions with every curve, push, pull, and movement from his fingers.

Not long after, he found your sweet spot, pressing his fingers eagerly into it. You shivered.

He leaned over to kiss you while slowly fucking you with his fingers. The pressure on your insides made you feel floaty. You reached out to continue stroking him as well, making him tense against you until you slumped against him, head feeling way too hot and dizzy.

He huffed a laugh, “Too much for you angel? It feels good doesn’t it?” You whined at him with a pout, guiding yourself up and down on his fingers. Your voice grew louder when he pulled them out.

"Shh, give me a second." Noritoshi repositioned both of you, so that you were sitting on his lap. Putting some pillows behind him as he leaned against the headboard of the bed.

It was a slightly risky position, he could easily enter you from this angle so you had to push your back against his chest, comforted by his warmth.

"Let me play with you." Who was this man and where was your stoic Toshi? Noritoshi kissed everywhere he could reach, the side of your face, your shoulder, cheeks and neck.

"Come on, rub yourself against me." You felt him smile against your skin.

You took his length and grinded your pussy down on him, slathering your juices onto him. Tears streamed down your face. "Why does it feel so good? Ssss too much."

His hands were cupping and squeezing your breasts, holding you firm against his chest. You could feel the sweat gathering on your back.

Both of your Phoenix marks were glowing a bright red, illuminating both of your features. You reached to clasp his wrist, feeling the warmth seep out from his mark.

Heat. That was the main shared sensation between the two of you. Simply and drunkenly chasing after pleasure. The soulmate bond showed you his inner desires of breeding you, filling you up, pleasing you, and making you content. You felt touched and giddy.

Noritoshi's head is hooked over your shoulder. Mouth watering at the sight of him thrusting against your thighs. The tip of his cock poked up and down between your legs. Your ass was pressing hard against his hips, driving him insane.

You both grinded against each other at a moderate pace. Hiccups and mewls escaped your lips as you drooled.

You tightened your thighs when he sped up his thrusts. Your pussy feels hotter with each passing moment. He was humping you so hard, you started to lightly bounce on his lap.

All you could feel and smell was Noritoshi. The scent of sex was heavy in the air. You've never felt this type of greed over a person before. It scared you a bit.

"Darling, come on me." Noritoshi breathed out huskily against your ear. You shivered, squeezing and crossing your thighs. He softly grunted as he came all over your legs, the cum still hot.

Amazed, Noritoshi watched as you also squirted, spraying all over both of your legs and the mattress. He leaned over to rub your clit more, feeling it spew against his fingers as he put a heavy pressure on it. “Haaah! Toshi, no stop!! It feels so good!” You threw your head back wildly, feeling your legs spasm beyond your control at the touch of oversensitivity.

"Is that a no or a yes?" He nipped your earlobe as he continued rubbing your clit.

"More. Gimme more." You moaned.

He smirked, immediately plunging two fingers into you, pistoning it in and out as fast as he could, while his thumb continuously stroked at your clit. He held you tight as you sobbed his name unabashedly.

A second orgasm violently washed over you, making you shake. He helped you ride it out, by slowing down his movements until you collapsed against him.

It was hard not to fall asleep as you both stopped to catch a breath, but you had to clean up. “Sorry for making a mess.” You turned to face him and frowned upon feeling the stickiness on both of your legs.

His eyes glinted darkly, “No, don’t apologize. We both made a mess. I quite like it.” You hid your smile in his neck at that.

"We can take a quick shower then go to bed if you'd like?" Noritoshi offered.

"Mmm… sounds good."

The shower was quick and pleasant. It was nice to smell like Noritoshi. You happily hummed to yourself as you lathered your arms with his body soap. It smells nice and deep with touches of bergamot and clove.

On the other hand, Noritoshi was having an internal crisis. He just wanted to stuff you full of his cum right there as he helped you bathe, but was determined to wait until you got married to do so.

You went to bed in one of his kimonos after changing his sheets. Noritoshi loves how you look in his clothes and how you smell like him now.

"Thank you…" You whispered.

Noritoshi's body was so warm as he pulled you to him, his lips pressed against your temple. "Mmm, thank you also for trusting me with your body. I feel so relaxed, should we do this more often?"

You squawked in surprise, pushing his chest and laughing with him. "Nori's not so pure minded after all. Here I thought you were super conservative."

"Never said I was, angel."

◇◇◇

The next day, you were both mortified when Todo came up to tell you to keep it down next time. His room is next to Noritoshi's.

The both of you didn't realize he was home when that went down. “I'm soundproofing my room after this.” Noritoshi exasperatedly sighed at you.

"Ahh, maybe I should do the same with mine," You fiddled with your shirt. He smiled, leaning down to see you eye to eye, "You're looking forward to doing it with me again, I presume?"

If he wasn't so handsome right there, with his eyes bright and filled with so much joy, you're sure you would have smacked him in the chest.

".... No comment."

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

Author's notes: Had to check the legal age in Japan for consent to sexual activities and the laws are SO MESSY. Long story short, the official age of consent is 13. Based on prefecture, for 16-18 years old, it is legal if they have consent to date from their parents. Basically, they’re trying to prevent relationships with huge age gaps for teens (with over 20 year olds) who might be taken advantage of. Toshi and Y/n’s bdays have passed already, so they’re 17 and 16 here.

Of course note that this is all fiction anyways.

[arvandus]

Touch (Pt. 8)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Chapter warning: Another long chapter, clocking in at 10k words and 27 pages.  First half is a bit heavy, so... Trigger warnings: physical abuse, verbal abuse, childhood trauma flashbacks

Chapter Songs: When The Truth Hunts You Down by Sam Tinnesz/Make It Rain by Ed Sheeran

Part 1   Part 7

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 8 - Memories

Dabi stared at his desk, now positioned in front of his bedroom door.  He did it as soon as he’d returned to his room and swallowed the pills you had given him.  He wasn’t sure what to expect for the evening, but whatever happened, he wanted to make it through it without leaving his room.

That was a decision he had made before he even showed up at your door with dinner, as evidenced by the plastic bags currently occupying the surface of his makeshift barricade.  Ramen wasn’t the only thing he’d gotten while he was out.  The bags were filled with a variety of items - more snacks, a pack of cigarettes, electrolyte drinks, over the counter medicines.  Anything and everything he could think of was in those bags, the collection curated from multiple experiences of past detoxes.  Granted, this wasn’t a full detox, but that just made it that much harder to anticipate what exactly his experience was going to be.

Next to the lineup of bags was a bottle of high-end whiskey and a far less fancy plastic cup.  That part wasn’t exactly planned… it was a last-minute decision, swiped from the bar downstairs after he’d returned from his shopping spree.  He knew you wouldn’t be happy about it; no doubt you’d grill him on the risks of mixing alcohol and drugs.  But it was his safety net without the risk of leaving his room in search of something stronger.

The night dragged by slowly, painfully.  Every inch of Dabi was restless and aching.  His scarred legs screamed a discordant song through his veins, muffled under the influence of the pills you had given him.  The aches he still felt were just annoying enough to make sleep impossible, despite the exhaustion that pulled at him.  There was no comfortable position, nothing to ease the physical stress.

Still, the pain was bearable.  Your treatment was working.

It had its limits, though. Despite the pills you’d given him, he was still functioning on an opioid withdrawal.  A jittery energy consumed him, forcing his leg to beat like a jackhammer, while his mind raced. Dabi could never stay in one spot for long, switching between his bed to his desk chair, to his bed again.  Sitting.  Lying down. Standing.  Sitting again. It hadn’t taken him long to break into his cigarettes, dragging long puffs into his lungs to ease his tattered nerves. It helped to ease the physical distress, but his mind continued to jump from thought to thought, no longer encumbered by a drug-filled haze. 

The headache relief you’d provided him was proving to be a double-edged sword, allowing his sporadic thoughts to come through clearer without the sharp, throbbing ache as a distraction.  Your conversation hung over Dabi like a vengeful ghost.  He tried to run from it, distracting himself with various forms of entertainment on his phone.  Music videos, books, TV shows, memes…

Did you like memes? Of course, you did.  Who didn’t?

Damn it, there you were again, in his brain.

He didn’t want to think about it.  He didn’t want to think about you.

But he did anyway.  Obsessively.

It wasn’t long before Dabi was sitting on his bed, his phone forgotten in his hand while his mind turned over every nuance of what was said, every detail of body language.  It honed in on the fear in your eyes, the way you had wrapped your arms around yourself, the way you had frozen against his harsh tone. His mind chewed on it like a dog with a bone, a dog he couldn’t fucking train.

It shouldn’t matter.  It shouldn’t fucking matter.

So, you were scared of him. That was to be expected.  It wasn’t like he needed you to like him.  This was all temporary anyway.

So, he had grabbed you. Big deal.  It wasn’t like he really hurt you, right?  It could have been so much worse.

The thoughts the did little to comfort him, his new-found conscience finding little of value in his weak excuses.  The guilt sat in him like a stone, too heavy for him to move.

It mattered.  It mattered a lot.

And he hated it.

Dabi still couldn’t remember actually grabbing you, but his mind filled in the blank space regardless, taking what he could remember and embellishing it into a brightly colored oil painting.  It hung front and center in the castle of his mind, joining the tapestry of memories that wrapped around Dabi like a cage.  And from it, it forced him to follow the threads of his life, drawing parallels to past wrongs, to things said and things done…

…To things better left buried.

“I hate you.”

The words echoed in Dabi’s mind, an old memory with his voice attached.  Young, hot-headed, angry.  He closed his eyes tight, resting the bridge of his nose on his interlaced fingers as he tried not to remember.  He didn’t want to remember.  But his mind was freed now, healing from the poison he’d been feeding himself for years, and it didn’t give a fuck what he wanted or didn’t want.

“This is all your fault.”

So, this is where his mind wanted to start first.  He knew this memory, and he knew where it would eventually lead. 

The memory came into focus with such clarity that it was as if he were there again.  He could see her, clear as if she were there in person, white hair framing broken eyes as wet tears trailed down her hollow, pale cheeks. He could see himself too, younger, around thirteen years old, with red, wild hair like his father, his blue eyes filled with angry tears. 

He watched, a prisoner in his own mind, as the memory unfolded before him.

His head hung low as his eyes stared ahead of himself, unfocused. Why?  Why was this happening to him?  His father’s harsh words wrapped around him like chains, restricting him, choking him, forcing him into submission.

‘YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A FAILED EXPERIMENT.’

Why was he cast aside so easily, as if he didn’t MATTER?

His father promised.  He PROMISED that he’d help him become a hero.  He’d trained every day, no matter how hard his father pushed him, no matter how much his quirk burned him. His father had called it the cost of greatness. It was all meant to mold him, to beat the weakness out of him and make him stronger, to prepare him for the greatest test of his life, the UA entrance exams.  It was the ONLY path to becoming a pro hero.  Not just any pro hero, but the BEST.  His father insisted on it.

But now, with less than a year before he would apply, his father abandoned him.

“I tried so hard, mom.  I did everything he ever asked, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he… he…”

His mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. “I’m so sorry Touya.”

His voice shook with the force of suppressed sobs. “If I’d been strong enough… if I was more like him, then maybe he’d have been proud of me. Maybe… maybe he would have wanted me.”

“Touya…” his mother whispered consolingly.

He stared at his bandaged hands, watching through blurred vision as his tears broke free and fell onto the strips of cloth.  They soaked in, exposing the red blood beneath. He stared at it.

His fathers voice echoed in his mind.  ‘You’re WEAK!  Just like your mother!’

Tainted blood.

HER blood.

His father was right.

Touya’s pain transformed into anger. “This is all your fault.”  He whispered.

Her embrace vanished as his words smacked her.  Her eyes began to fill with tears.  “What…?”

“This is all your fault!” He repeated, pinning his angry eyes on her tear-filled ones.  “I HATE YOU!”

Dabi rubbed at the bridge of his nose, unable to get his mother’s facial expression out of his head. He had been such an idiot. A young, stupid kid.  He’d destroyed her with those words.  Maybe… maybe that was the start.  The first crack in her mental fragility.

Her face faded away, and now he was in an office. His father’s office.

“I’m going to apply to UA.” He announced.

His father looked up at him from the newspaper he was reading. “No you’re not.  I forbid it.”

“You may have given up on me, but I haven’t.”  Touya said stubbornly.

Enji put the newspaper down.  “If I thought you were capable of getting into UA, then we would be training right now instead of having this conversation.”

“But dad-“

“I FORBID IT!” He shouted as orange flames erupted along his face and shoulders.  “I’ll not have you bring shame on the Todoroki name all for a childish dream.”

“It’s NOT a childish dream!” Touya shouted.

Dabi scoffed at the memory, noting his father’s hypocrisy about “childish dreams.”  He knew the rest of this story…  He’d applied behind his father’s back and failed the exam.  His father was furious.

As if summoned, the memory burst forth, tying together with the previous.

He lay in the hospital bed at the UA Health Center, wrapped in bandages, nursing his failure.    He’d lost control of his emotions during the exam, consumed by anger and a desperate desire to prove his father wrong.  In turn, he lost control of his quirk.  Not only had he injured himself with his recklessness, but he’d accidentally injured two other applicants with his wild flames – an automatic disqualification.

The school nurse, Recovery Girl, was treating the other’s wounds first, and then she would treat his.

Or so he thought.

Just as she was about to use her quirk to rapidly heal some of his injuries, his father burst through the door in a cloud of barely contained rage.

“Don’t treat him.” He ordered.

“Excuse me?” She replied.

Touya stared at his father, realization starting to dawn on him.  He wouldn’t...

Enji narrowed his eyes.  “I said don’t treat him.”

“But Mr. Todoroki, if I don’t use my quirk to help him then he’ll be left with scars.  Worse than the ones he already has.”

“I know.”

“It will take him many weeks to heal.  He may feel pain for the rest of his life.”

“He must suffer the consequences of his actions.”

“But sir, if I may-“

“You may not!”

“…very well, sir.” She mumbled.  She left the room, muttering her disapproval under her breath.

After she was gone, a cold fear gripped Touya as his father stared at him with fury in his eyes.  He waited for his father’s barrage of insults and accusations, waited for the lecturing on family honor and being a ‘man.’

But the attacks never came.  Instead, his father cooled his expression, fixing him with a cold, emotionless glare.  “You brought this on yourself.”  He turned on his heel to leave, but paused to glance at him over his shoulder.  “Remember this day, Touya.”  Then he left.

Tears streaked down Touya’s face as he sobbed alone. No one could hear him.  No one came.

Dabi stood up and made his way to his desk, pulling out another cigarette before sitting down in the metal chair.  He lit the cigarette with the blue flame dancing on his finger and took a long drag of it as his free hand slowly spun the whiskey bottle in circles in front of him.

He didn’t want to think about this.  Any of this. There was no fucking point to it, nothing to be gained.  It only brought up the same pain he’d lived with for years, the pain he’d learned to ignore in place of vengeance.

He wanted to drink the entire bottle.  He wanted to move his desk aside and seek you out, have you turn off his emotions like you’d done before.  He could do it… the desk wasn’t really going to stop him.

But it served as a reminder. A reminder of what he had committed himself to.  Why did he decide to go through with this?  What the hell was he thinking?

He thought of you.  He thought of the past few days.  And once again, he was back on his thread of memories, following the tapestry down to its source.

The source of what?

He wasn’t sure.  But it was as if someone had strapped him down and was forcing his eyes open.  It wouldn’t stop.  His thoughts continued unfettered, memories organizing with a clarity he hadn’t felt in years.

Touya sat alone in his room watching the rain pour outside as he nursed a black eye.  Outside his second-story window, his father trained in the courtyard with his youngest brother. His quirk had manifested earlier that day – a perfect combination of fire and ice.  Enji had been ecstatic.

Touya had punched the wall in anger.

Now he sat here, alone, watching his father train his replacement.

His replacement.

No wonder his father had abandoned him when Shouto was born.  He was placing all of his chips on him once he realized that Touya’s body would never be able to handle his quirk.

A knock at the door interrupted his brooding, and his mother stepped in, disappointment already on her face.

“I heard you got in another fight today.” She said, as she closed the door behind her.

“They were picking on Natsuo.” He said.  “I couldn’t just let that happen.”

“They’re talking about expelling you.”

He looked away from her, his eyes looking back out the window.  “So what.” He replied.  If anything, he welcomed it.  Anything to thwart his father’s plans of making him go to college and get a business degree, only to work under his father’s thumb at his agency for the rest of his life.

“You can’t keep doing this, Touya.” She said, concern heavy in her voice.

“Doing what?” He looked back at her. 

“Destroying your life like this.”

He glared at her accusation. “I didn’t destroy my life.” He looked away, watching the courtyard again.  “He did.”

His mother walked over to join him at the window.  A gust of wind blasted raindrops onto the glass.  Outside, Shouto’s flames died away on his skin as he collapsed to his hands and knees.  Enji grabbed him by his small arm, forcing him back up to his feet.  She watched it with a sadness in her eyes.

“He’s too young.” She said quietly.

Jealousy soaked into Touya’s heart.  “And I wasn’t?”

His words stabbed her, and she hung her head in guilt.  “I’m sorry, Touya.  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Now he was confused.  “Like what?”

She didn’t respond, and he looked at her to see her eyes glazed over in silent introspection.  She’d mentally retreated within herself, to a place that Touya couldn’t follow.  It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her do this.  If anything, it was happening more frequently lately.  Normally, when this happened he wouldn’t press it, allowing her to escape within herself, to protect whatever part of her she felt needed protecting.

But now her words trapped him, and his heart began to pound at their unspoken meaning.  “LIKE. WHAT?  How was it supposed to happen??”

His words cut through her mental isolation, and she stared distantly at the floor as her eyes began to brim with tears.

“If only one of the others had been strong enough… of only I’d given them better quirks…” the tears broke free, landing on the hard floor.  “Then maybe… maybe you wouldn’t have had to suffer so long.  I’m so sorry, Touya.  It’s all my fault.  Everything is all my fault.”  She covered her face in her hands.

Given them better quirks?  Who? 

His body went cold.  Suddenly he was outside of himself, watching the history of his life fly by.

The birth of Fuyumi.  Then came Natsuo.

Now Shouto.

Touya did the math in his head. He was 17 now.  Fuyumi was 14, and Natsuo was 9.  Shouto was 5.   A four-year gap between each of them.

He’d always thought that his siblings came along as a natural process of a growing family, born from love despite his father’s harsh, obsessive nature.  Why else would Rei have stayed with him all these years? But the age gaps were too uncanny, too similar.  It was just enough time for each of their quirks to manifest.

Shouto wasn’t the only one who was intended as a replacement.

Which meant his father had given up on him long before he’d ever let on.

Touya’s chest heaved, as his world was up-ended.  “It was all a lie…”

The intensity of his tone forced his mother to come back to the present, her hands falling from her face to stare at him.  “What?”

“It was all a lie!” he repeated, his voice raising.  “All these years…”

He stood up and began pacing his room, his hand in his red hair.  “Tell me it’s not true.” He demanded.  “I already knew that Shouto was meant to replace me.  But Natsuo?” He paused and stared at his mother.

She looked way shamefully. 

His breaths began to come out in ragged gasps as he fought the tears coming to his eyes. 

“Fuyumi?”

“No, not Fuyumi.  Not initially, at least.”

Right.  Because his quirk had just manifested when she was born.  His father didn’t know yet how weak and limited his body was; he’d still believed it was something that could be worked past, that it was something Touya could control.  Which meant that Fuyumi was wanted.  Lucky her.  No wonder his father seemed to favor her over everyone else.

He sat on his bed, his head in his hands.  “What the FUCK.”

All these years, he’d assumed his father had believed in him, and only gave up on him right before he was set to apply to UA.  Even then, he’d thought that his father only abandoned him as a way to protect Touya from hurting himself, or even worse, killing himself.  That was why his father hadn’t let him get healed back then, right? That was the lesson he was supposed to learn?  To accept his weakness and take his mortality seriously?  Sure, there was the whole thing about ruining the family’s reputation, but he’d always hoped that deep down, there was more to it than that. There had to be.

But no. None of it was true. It was all about HIM.  His father and his stupid, obsessive goal to beat All Might, even if it was only through his progeny.  Touya was nothing but a tool to him, a means to an end.  And when he couldn’t meet his father’s needs, he became nothing more than a contingency plan.  In the meantime, his father kept trying to make the perfect hero.  The perfect quirk.

And he’d finally succeeded.

Touya stared at his scarred hands. “Did… did he ever even love me?” The words fell from his mouth, a forbidden, broken whisper.

His mother’s arms were around him then, cradling him to her chest.  “Of course, he loves you.  I swear it.”

The warmth of her embrace made him turn his attention on her, and suddenly a revelation hit him, cutting into him like a thousand knives.  His body went rigid, his eyes wide.

“You knew.” He whispered.  He forced her arms off of him and stood up, towering over her with his height.  She took a step back, her eyes wide.  “You knew and you never told me.”

He turned his back to her, unable to look at her.

“Touya, please...” she begged, her voice quivering.

He didn’t want to hear it. There was nothing she could say that could fix this.  His father was one thing… he’d accepted that he was an abusive, shitty father.  But his mother?  His mother who he’d confided in?  His mother who was supposed to protect him?  His mother… who he trusted?  Why didn’t she ever tell him?

The betrayal was too much. It cut too deep.  His entire childhood was a lie, years wasted by those who were supposed to love and support him.

Disgust filled him.  He wanted her gone.  Out of his room, out of his life.

“Touya!” she said desperately.  She reached out to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at bridging the growing chasm between them.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” He shouted. 

Flames erupted across his body, uncontrolled, as his arm shoved her away from him.  She stumbled back with such force that she collided into the wall before slumping down against it.  She didn’t get up.  Instead, she sat there with her knees drawn up like a child, her body wracked with sobs.

He stared at her, horrified, as his blue flames died away on his skin.  He wanted to go to her, to reach out and help her, apologies falling frantically from his lips.  He took a cautious step forward, one hand outstretched towards her.  But she shied away from him, her arms wrapping protectively around her head.

“No! Enji, please!”

Her words stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, he lowered his hand and stared in stunned silence as his mother babbled incoherent apologies.  Something shattered within himself, sinking away to leave a hollowness in its place.

He ran.

Dabi was drowning, as the weight of his past washed over him, choking him.

That was the longest one yet.  And the most painful.  It ripped at the exposed tender places in his heart, places he’d thought were long-since dead.

Dabi’s vision blurred and he wiped at his nose.  This was what he did.  He lashed out, hurting those close to him, those who didn’t deserve it.  It was the same with you. It was who he was, it was who he was made to be. It’d only be a matter of time before it happened again.

He lifted his cigarette to take another puff but stopped when he realized that it had burned down to the filter, leaving a trail of ash in its wake on the desk.

He unpacked another cigarette and lit it.  His hand began to unscrew the whiskey bottle.

She had avoided him after that, and he avoided her.  It wasn’t long after that rainy day that his mother had her mental breakdown, scalding Shouto in an attempt to burn away the image of her husband.  Or was she trying to burn away the image of Touya? Was there even a difference in her mind?

The news had shocked him, and he ran as fast as his legs could take him.  He burst into Enji’s office, forcing himself into his father’s presence.

“Where is she?” Touya demanded, his chest heaving from exertion.

Enji frowned at the intrusion, looking up from his paperwork at his desk.  He was dressed professionally, in a white button-up shirt with a blue tie.

“Who?” He demanded.

Touya clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ground together.  God, did he hate him…

“My mother. You know, your wife.  The one you knock up every four years and the ignore.”

Enji menacingly rose from his chair, his blue eyes carrying the threat of violence within them. He towered over Touya, his presence casting a shadow from the wall sconces behind him.

“You watch your tone with me, boy.” Enji said coldly.  “I will not be disrespected in my own house.”

Touya knew if he pushed it, he’d never get what he came here for.  So, he sucked up his anger and pride, bowing deep in apology. “Yes, sir.” Touya muttered with downcast eyes. “Forgive me.   I just want to know where she is.”

Enji paused for a moment, staring down at his son before returning to his seat and picking up his pen.  “She’s been admitted to the Musutafu Mental Institution.” He replied as he marked his paper.

A pause filled the space before Touya asked his next question.  “Can I see her?”

“No.”

Touya’s breath stopped, his mind unable to wrap around the simple word that fell like a judge’s gavel. His father’s answer was cold and final, said with such heartless ease.  He stared in disbelief.

He thought he had time to mend things, to finally overcome his cowardice and atone for his actions.  But there was no atoning now.  He’d lost her.  Tears began to sting in the corners of his eyes, but he fought them back; his father always hated it when he cried.

“So that’s it…? She’s gone?”

“It was for the best.” Enji replied.  “She attacked my son, almost made him useless.  Now I can train him without her interfering.”

“Is that all you care about?”  The words fell from Touya’s mouth before he could stop them, covered in bitterness.

Enji’s pen stopped scribbling.  An agonizing ten seconds passed before he set it down and looked up at Touya, pinning him with his sharp eyes, dark eyebrows pulled down into an angry frown.  “Excuse me?”

Touya steeled himself against his father’s wrath as the rage he’d been keeping to himself burst forth against its creator. 

“Is that all you care about?” he repeated.  “Your wife is in a mental institution and your son is scarred for life, but all you can think about is surpassing All Might?”

Enji pinned him with a look that was almost akin to pity.  “How small-minded you are.  This was always your problem, Touya. Your mother too.  You both lacked vision, an inability to see the bigger picture. That was why you were never able to push past your limits.  But Shouto… Shouto will be different.”

Enji’s accusations made Touya’s lips curl into a snarl.  “Do you even hear yourself?” he spat.  “No wonder she went crazy.  She wasn’t attacking Shouto, she was attacking you!  This is all your fault, and you don’t even care. You’re a shit father, and a worse husband.”

The pity in his father’s eyes turned to ice, and the man quietly set his pen down before standing up from his desk.  “Shouto said the same thing.” He grumbled.  “I excused it coming from him, because he’s young and doesn’t understand yet.  But you… you should know better.”  He loosened his tie and began to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves.  “I’ve been too lenient on you.  It looks like there are some lessons I still have yet to teach you.”

Touya took a step back at the obvious gesture.

Enji stared down at him in disgust.  “Look at you. Already scared.  You’re just as pathetic as before.”

Touya went into a defensive stance, his blue flames igniting across his skin.

His father scowled. “You dare raise your flames against me, boy?” His own flames erupted along his body.  “Very well.  If you’re going to talk like a man and fight like a man, then you will learn to accept your consequences like a man.”

Dabi took a drag of his new cigarette, already burned halfway from neglect.  He inhaled deeply, wanting the toxic fumes to fill the gaping hole in his chest.  It didn’t.

He picked up the now-open whiskey bottle and poured it to the halfway point of the plastic cup.  There was no ice to chill it, but it would have to do.  He took a swig, letting the fiery taste coat his tongue, burning away the taste of ash.

Enji had taken him outside into the courtyard, where he received the worst beating he’d ever gotten. His father’s blows lacked the restraint he typically exercised, fueled by a dark rage.  It had left Touya gagging and coughing, crumpled on the floor in a heap. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to think. 

The beating may have been five minutes or it may have been five hours. He couldn’t really tell. All he did know was that no one came.  Just like all the times before, no one came to say something, to stop him, even though the sound of their conflict shook the Todoroki grounds, incinerating nearby bushes and damaging the exposed framework of the surrounding buildings. And after his father had left, removing his tie and his shirt to clean the blood from them, Touya had laid there alone in the dirt, staring up at the cold, lifeless, star-studded night sky as an unforgiving universe stared back.  He wanted to die.

It felt like eternity had passed before two sets of hands gently grabbed him and helped him up, each of his arms going around familiar shoulders.  His siblings had finally come for him, now that his father was out of sight and they knew they were safe from his wrath.  They had helped Touya to his bed, where Fuyumi tended to his wounds in silence and Natsuo sat beside her, his mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Dabi took another couple of decent gulps of his whiskey, resisting the urge to down the entire contents and pour another cup.  How much did he pour?  Four shots worth?  Five? He needed it to kick in.  If he was going to be forced to relive every bad memory he ever had, then he’d be here all night. 

His body was worn down, his spirit tired.  He really didn’t want to feel anymore.

But the alcohol wasn’t working fast enough; his brain wouldn’t stop.

It was late at night, the moon high in the sky, the air cold with the hint of rain as clouds rolled in from the distance.  It had been a few days since Touya’s beating, but despite his sister’s protests, he decided to leave the confines of his room and take a walk on the family compound.

That was how he ended up here, six feet away from the training room.  The light was off, but he could hear the sound of fists hitting, and every now and then the room would light up with bright orange flame.  But there was no lecturing, no young voice crying.  Touya knew Shouto wasn’t in there this time.  He was still in bed, recovering from the burn his mother had inflicted. Enji was furious, pacing the grounds like an angry bear, snapping at staff and family and locking himself away in his training room to work out his frustrations, constantly striving for a goal he’d never be able to achieve.

Touya inwardly scoffed.  If anyone should be admitted to a mental institution, it should be his father. The man was literally driven insane by his inability to surpass All Might.  But of course, that would never happen.  His father was the number two hero.  He was “untouchable.”  There was no one brave enough or strong enough to make that man face his own demons. It made Touya curl his nose up at the hypocrisy.

An odd silence drew Touya out of his thoughts.  The sounds of fists impacting dummies and training equipment had stopped, the flames no longer bathing the ground in light through the open door.  Then he heard it – an unfamiliar sound, one he’d never heard before. He furrowed his brow in confusion and inched closer to the open door before risking a peek inside.

The moonlight spilled in just enough for him to see the hulking form of his father, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.  His great shoulders shook, and finally Touya realized the sound he was hearing.

His father was crying.

Disgust filled Touya, sour and bitter.  For all of his father’s posturing, for all of his grandiose lectures about strength and commitment, here he was, sobbing like a baby.  And for what?  For his inability to reach his dreams, while his family fell apart around him?

Or was he crying FOR his family?

Touya pushed the possibility away, burying it deep, deep down where he refused to give the idea any chance of blooming into a belief.

No.  This man didn’t feel for his family.  He wasn’t ALLOWED to feel for his family.  He was the reason his family was as broken as it was, every single one of them able to tie their scars back to him and his selfish actions.

Touya hated him.

And yet he loved him.  How fucked up was that? He could feel it in his irrational urge to go to him and offer support, a support he’d never once received.  And that just made him hate him more, because despite all that his father had done to him, Touya still fucking cared.

His father wasn’t worthy of it.  He didn’t deserve Touya’s love, or his mother’s love, or anyone’s love for that matter.

And he certainly didn’t deserve to cry.

Touya fled.  He fled from his feelings, he fled from his fears, taking only his righteous anger with him and riding it like a hellhound. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring the pain that sliced through him from his father’s abuse.  His lungs burned. His ribs ached.  As he ran, his thoughts followed, chasing him and swooping on him like a flock of crows, pecking at his sanity.

He ended up in an abandoned warehouse, a quarter mile from his house, across the railroad tracks that marked the separation of ritzy upper-class life and industrial city complexes. He fell to his knees, his palms landing hard on the dirt-strewn floor inside the old building, as sobs ripped lose from his throat, harsh and painful.

He hated him.  He hated him more than anything.  How could he have ever idolized him?  How could he have ever loved him?  His father was selfish.  He was destructive. He was cruel.  And now his father cried like a baby, as if he were a victim in all of this.

He wasn’t a victim. And he certainly wasn’t a hero.

What kind of hero saved civilians while simultaneously destroying his family behind closed doors? That wasn’t a hero.  It was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And it was devouring his family.  His helpless, innocent family.

They deserved justice. They deserved saving.  Where was hero society in all of this?  Lining his father’s pockets, placing him on a pedestal to be worshipped.  His father always preached about Touya accepting the consequences of his actions.  So where were Enji’s consequences?

As long as his father continued to reign supreme, his family would never be safe.  His family would never heal.  His mother would never recover. Natsuo would never be freed of his anger. Shouto would never get to decide who he is and who he wants to be. Fuyumi would be weighed down by her obligation to her family, foregoing her own dreams to take care of them all.

His father needed to be gone.  Permanently.  Only then would his family be safe.  Only then would they be free.

But Touya… Touya would never be free.  He understood that now, even as his hatred and anger consumed him.  He was just like his father, a proverbial chip-off-the-old-block.  He’d managed to take all the worst parts of him and make them a part of himself. His obsessive nature, his anger, his jealousy… his violence.  He could feel it in his blood.

If his family wasn’t safe with Enji, then what made Touya any different? He’d already played a hand in his mother’s mental demise.  How could he be sure he wouldn’t hurt the rest as tie went on?

He was just like his father.

He hated his father.

He hated himself.

He wanted to die.

So then, who better to take on the Behemoth?  Who better than his father’s son, the monster he’d made?

Touya had to kill Endeavor.  He had to kill his father.  His father, who he couldn’t even beat in a fight.  He was stupid.  A fool. But there were no other options.  No other paths to justice.  And Touya was tired of waiting for justice.

Touya’s sob turned into a dry laugh.  Was this what it meant to be heroic?  To bear the weight of this responsibility, even if it cost him his soul?  Even if it killed him?

His dry laugh grew into a series of laughs, wild and hysterical, as tears ran down his face, while the reality of what he was committing to tore him asunder.  As he heaved and coughed, a heat began to overtake him, building so quickly that by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late.  Searing, blue flames blasted out of him in such magnitude and such intensity that the windows of the abandoned warehouse exploded, glass shards melting from the intense heat as they rained down.  The flames roared outward, reaching for the night sky through the now-glassless windows, groping and writhing, their fierceness never waning.

Touya couldn’t stop it.  The flames scorched through him and consumed him, the sound of it raging in his ears, his body devoured by agony as his quirk ate at him, destroying him from the inside out.  Above him, the heat of the flames began to melt the structural metal beams.

But his hysterical laughter and tears couldn’t stop, even as smoke left his scorched lungs with each exhale and his mouth tasted ash.  A screeching sound filled the space, the sound of metal bending and breaking.  The beams gave way, the roof caving in as destruction rained down around him, silencing his laughter.

…..

Nothing but bright blue fire and broken remains filled his vision.  Slowly, a dark form began to take shape amongst the flames, tall and towering.  It was him. He’d come for him.

The flames parted, and he saw himself as he was now: black hair, dark scars, staples glinting in the firelight.  The sound of a funeral bell tolled and his mouth opened, forming a single word.  A name.

A gentle knock caused the image to begin to fade away like mist, even as the funeral bells still rang in Dabi’s ears.

“Dabi?” He knew that voice. It was you.

Groggily, Dabi opened his eyes to find himself still in his chair at his desk, his head resting on his arm. His forgotten cup of whiskey sat unmoved, inches from his fingers.  It was a dream.  He’d fallen asleep.

Another knock at the door, slightly louder, made him sit up.

“...Dabi?” you called again.

“Yeah.” He grumbled. He rubbed at his face.  “Yeah, yeah.”

His body felt stiff and his neck had a horrible kink in it.  He checked the time on his phone.  5:45am.  Why in God’s name were you up so early?  And why were you knocking on his door?

He stood up and stretched his back, and that was when he felt it – a sharp itching pain that ran along his spine, chased by the agony in his legs.  It was worse than he remembered it being before he’d passed out. Your quirk was starting to wear off.

It looked like you were right on time.

He grabbed the end of his metal desk with one hand and pulled, dragging it slowly away from the door. The sound was grating, like nails on a chalkboard.  If people weren’t awake before, they definitely were now.

As if on cue, three harsh bangs resonated from the wall next him.  “What the hell, Dabi???” Spinner’s voice yelled through the wall.  “People are trying to sleep!”

“Bite me.”  Dabi snapped back before opening the door for you, and stared, giving you an obvious once-over.  You were completely dressed, in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, as if you’d been up for hours.  Dark circles framed your tired eyes. “Hey, doll.” He greeted.

Your heart did a flip before you even knew what hit you, leaving you standing there like a deer in headlights.  It’d been a cool minute since he’d called you that; you didn’t realize how much you’d grown attached to it.

It took you a moment to realize that he was holding the door open for you, inviting you in.  Once you were across the threshold, Dabi closed the door behind you.

“Sorry… did I wake you?” You asked, as your eyes took in the room.  His desk was haphazardly pulled away from the door, covered in plastic bags. The room stank of cigarette smoke and alcohol.  A bottle of whiskey sat incriminatingly on the desk, some of its contents missing.  You picked up the bottle and stared at it before pinning Dabi with a glare.  You knew he knew better.  For someone who was so experienced with drugs, he certainly did do some stupid shit.

“Really?” you scolded.

“Don’t start with me.” Dabi grumbled as he rubbed at his neck. He pulled out an electrolyte drink and downed its contents, wiping his mouth with his hand once it was empty.  “There, you happy?”  He moved on to a bag of chips, crunching loudly as he chewed in annoyance.

Normally, you would have been more diplomatic, navigated the waters a little bit more when you saw them getting choppy.  But you slept like shit again last night, waking up repeatedly from bad dreams only to worry about this idiot while he decided to try to self-medicate by drinking his problems away.

“Don’t get mad at me for calling you out on your bullshit.” You replied.  “If you act like an idiot, then I’m gonna treat you like one.”

“How’s it look up there on your high horse?” Dabi retorted.

“What?”

“It must be exhausting being so fucking perfect.  Makes everyone else around you look like such fucking failures.”  He turned his angry eyes away from you as he sat down on the end of his bed, running a hand through his messy black hair.

His words slapped you, and you stared at him for a long moment, taking in the sight of him.  His eyes looked tired, his cheeks sallow.  His hair looked tangled and unwashed.  When was the last time he took a shower?  His hand kept rubbing at his neck, no doubt nursing a sore spot.  He must have fallen asleep at his desk after a rough night.  You recalled the night you’d helped him through his withdrawal, and the breakdown it had culminated in.  No doubt he was up all night battling his inner demons.  Alone.  Without your help this time.  Guilt soaked through your frustration.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered. “You’re right, I shouldn’t judge. It’s just…” You sat down in his desk chair.  “I’m trying so hard to help you.  And… well…”

“What?” Dabi prodded. “You think I’m not trying?”

Your eyes fell on the desk, which sat askew in his room, and the bags full of various items that were obviously intended to help Dabi get through the night.  “No…” you replied.  “I know you are.  I just wish you took better care of yourself.”

“I take care of myself just fine.”

Your brow furrowed. “I mean it, Dabi.” You rubbed at your face tiredly, letting your fatigue finally show.  “I’m worrying about you, probably more than I should.  I’m pushing my body to its limits, I can’t sleep, and when I do, I dream about you.  Then I wake up, and I worry even more because I can never be entirely sure that you’re okay.”

You felt your body flush with heat at your sudden confession, and you looked at your hands in embarrassment. You weren’t supposed to say that. You weren’t supposed to say any of that.  Stupid, no-good, tired, foggy brain.

A shit-eating grin spread across Dabi’s face, his eyes lighting up in amusement.  “You dream about me, eh?”

“Shut up.” You grumbled. You grabbed a crumpled-up napkin and threw it at Dabi’s head.  It fell pitifully to the floor, three feet from where he sat.

Dabi stared at the failed attack and gave a laugh.  “That was pathetic.”

You tried to suppress a grin.  “I said shut up.  God, you’re such a brat.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Dabi finally spoke.  “Gotta solution to your problem… Stop worrying so much.”

You gave a small half-smirk. “Sorry, not gonna happen.” You replied.  “I worry about my friends.  That’s just how I am.”

Something did a flip in Dabi’s chest, and he averted his eyes.  “Friends, huh?  You don’t even know me.”

“I know you better today than I did a few days ago…”

He gave a dry laugh. You weren’t wrong…

“If we’re not friends when this is all over, then I will be greatly offended.” You teased. “Besides… like your company.”

Dabi stared at you like you grew a second head.  You liked his company? For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.  Most of the time you’d spent together so far was him either feeling like shit or being an asshole.

But he liked your company too even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, and for the moment he didn’t feel like fighting it.  He’d argue with himself later over it for sure, but for right now… he enjoyed feeling your presence, enjoyed how your words wrapped around him like a warm blanket, safe and secure.  His memories still sat upon his shoulders, lurking like crows, but they were silent for now, and he was pretty sure that it had something to do with you being here.

Your voice broke through his thoughts.  “Let’s change your bandage.  Are you okay waiting until I’m done treating you to get your pills?”

“Why, are you punishing me for drinking?” he replied. It took you a moment before you caught on that he was teasing.

You grinned and raised an eyebrow at him.  “No, but now that you mention it, we should probably wait until after we’re done since I don’t know how long ago it was that you drank.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.  Now you were just doing this on purpose…

You sat behind him on the bed and began unpacking your materials while he removed his shirt.  When you removed his bandage, you stared at the healing burn for a moment.

“How’s it look?” He asked, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“It’s healing okay, but it’s still going to take some time until you don’t need the bandages.”

Regardless of the status of his burn, he still needed to see you twice a day for your quirk treatment and pills.  It was exhausting, and you were grateful that so far the others only returned with minor injuries.  But that could change at any moment, and you needed to be able to handle it; otherwise, Shigaraki would start to question your value.

You could only hope that your seller could find a way to expedite Dabi’s medication.  And your own too.  You’d counted what you had left before you’d arrived, and you were getting low. Dangerously low.  You could get through today and tomorrow morning, but if you didn’t have your refills by then…

You tried not to think about it.

You changed his bandages easily and began applying your quirk to his scarred skin just as you’d done the night before.  When you adjusted your position to handle the scars on his front half, the fear crept up again.  But this time, you were able to wrangle it successfully, only hesitating for a moment before you continued.  You broke the silence with words, a helpful distraction from your increasing discomfort and wandering thoughts.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You commented.

He eyed you for a moment, waiting for another lecture.  But it never came and when your eyes met his in a quick glance, there was no judgment in them.

“Only once in a while.” He replied.

You read between the lines of his answer. “Does it help?”

“A little.”

Silence fell again as you became increasingly focused on your quirk.  Your back was itching painfully again, and your heightened senses were making the light in the room seem far too bright.  Still, your fingers traced along his neck, taking special care to make sure no space was left untouched.  Dabi watched your face, inches from his own.  That was when he noticed it.  Something was wrong.  Your smile was gone, your lips now pressed into a firm line.  You took your breaths in through your nose, and your brows were pulled together as you focused.  Your hands were starting to shake.  Were you scared again?  Or was it something else?

Just as your hands began to reach his face, he grabbed your hands in his own and pulled back slightly out of your reach.  “Stop.”

Your eyes focused on him. “What?  Why?”

“Your quirk.  Does it hurt?” his tone was stern.  

You stared at him, your expression caught like a deer in headlights before looking away abashedly.

“Yeah, sort of.” You replied.

Dabi held your hands, as he waited for a better answer than what you gave him.

Finally, you slowly pulled our hands out of his grasp, his touch leaving electricity on your skin, and sat on the bed next to him with your hands clasped together.

“So, you know how when I use my quirk, it numbs your pain?”  Dabi waited silently for you to continue. “It sort of has an opposite effect on me. The more I use it, the more heightened my senses become.  And if I use my quirk too much, then it becomes… uncomfortable.”

Dabi stared at his hands as you spoke, his brow pulled down into a dark frown.  All this time… he knew you were pushing yourself to your limits; hell, you even said so earlier.  But he had assumed it just caused fatigue.  He never knew that it caused you pain.  How had he never noticed?  How many times had you treated him?

How much did you use your quirk on the first night of his withdrawal?  How far did you really push yourself?

A car alarm went off outside of his open window, and your hands immediately flew up to cover your ears against the assault, your heart pounding. Once the pain and panic dissipated, you lowered your hands, embarrassment hot in your blood.  It was the first time Dabi saw this part of you, and it made you feel weak and vulnerable.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

Dabi hated those words.  He especially hated hearing them from you.  What the hell did you have to be sorry about?  Anger bubbled in him, old and familiar.  But he forced it down, aware of what his anger did to you as the memories flitted across his mind like a warning.

“It’s fine.”  Dabi replied, keeping his voice even.

Dabi’s mind began turning over this new piece of information, fitting the missing puzzle piece into what little he did have. He became acutely aware of how little he really knew about you.

“Is that what those drugs are for?” he asked.

You paused for a moment, contemplating if you should spin your truth to fit his theory.  But it didn’t feel right.  Earlier you said you considered him a friend. Did you keep secrets from friends?

How much did you really trust him?  How much did he trust you?

He was already trusting you more than you were, letting you help him through something very personal.  You’d seen him vulnerable far more than he’d seen you vulnerable.  So how would he feel if he learned you were keeping the truth from him? 

You wondered how he’d react.  If anyone would understand the pain you went through, it’d be him.  If anything, it might make the two of you closer.  You couldn’t deny that the idea of that resonated with an unspoken need within you.

“Sort of.” You replied, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt.  “I can’t use them for my sensory overload.  It’d take too many to really have an impact, and I’d probably O.D. if I tried.”

“So, what are they for?”

Wow.  He really wanted to know.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as your words got stuck somewhere between your mouth and your insecurity.  It’d been so long since you’d talked about it, since you’d acknowledged it with another person.  What if he laughed?  After all, how ridiculous did you look complaining about a single scar compared to Dabi??  Or worse, what if he didn’t care at all?

But he’d asked, and now he was waiting for an answer. 

The words still wouldn’t come, so you positioned yourself with your back facing him and lifted your shirt slightly, exposing the damaged flesh beneath.

Dabi’s eyes widened.  He knew a burn scar when he saw one.  And not just any burn scar.  There was a pattern to it, a story in its twisted, marred flesh.  This was done by a quirk.  It spread across your lower back, the edge of it dipping beneath the hem of your pants.  His hand began to reach out, fingers twitching with the urge to touch it, as if his touch could take the hateful mark off of you.  But he caught himself, his fingers inches from your skin, and clenched his hand into a tight fist.

A long, heavy silence begin to fill the space between you while a thousand questions perched on the edge of his lips as he grappled with this new information and the emotions that erupted from it.

The silence dragged on, and you lowered your shirt, as heart-pounding anxiety smothered you.  It filled the dark spaces in you, the weak places where confidence had abandoned you. It settled into a could dread that made you unable to turn around and face him.  Why wasn’t he saying anything?  You squeezed your eyes closed as tears pricked at the corners.

Did you make a mistake?  You shouldn’t have shown him.  You should have just brushed it off or lied when you had the chance.

Tears began to slip down your cheeks, and you struggled to stop them.  But they wouldn’t stop, and you wiped away at them angrily, sniffling as you struggled to contain yourself.

The sound of your distress snapped Dabi out of his obsessive thoughts.  You were crying.  Why?

Was it something he said? But he didn’t say anything.

Was it something he did? But he didn’t do anything.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He had no words of comfort, and he certainly couldn’t hold you, not without crossing a boundary he’d set for himself.  You had called him a friend.  How did friends comfort each other?  He had no fucking clue.

He scratched at his head awkwardly before standing up.  He bit his cheek from the pain in his legs.  Your pills had worn off, and they were in desperate need of attention.  But he forced it into submission, instead making his way to his desk to retrieve a clean napkin and handing it to you.

The small gesture seemed to help, as you gave a small chuckle and accepted the gift, wiping at your eyes as you averted your tear-stained face from him.

“I’m sorry.” You said with a sheepish laugh.

There was that fucking phrase again.

“Don’t be.” He replied.

That answer seemed to help, too.  You finally turned to face him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“I know guys typically freak out when they see a girl cry.” You commented.  “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Your emotional reaction embarrassed you, and now you were struggling to save face.

“It’s fine.” He grabbed the bag of chips from earlier and grabbed a couple for himself before holding the bag out to you in offering.  You shook your head, keeping your eyes on your lap. 

“It’s just… it’s been a long time since I’ve shared this with anyone.” You tried to explain.  Not entirely truthful, but not entirely a lie either.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” He replied.

“No, it’s fine.” You replied.  “I understand why you wanted to know.”

Silence followed for a moment, filled only by the sound of Dabi’s crunching.  It grated on your ears, but you didn’t want to say anything, glad that he was at least eating something.  Instead, you tried to cover the noise of his chips with your voice.

“It doesn’t hurt all the time…” you explained.  “Only when my quirk gets overused.  That’s what the pills are for.”

 “What about your sensory overload?” Dabi asked.

You were grateful that the conversation was progressing forward, leaving your mini breakdown in the past.  

 “Usually it’s a matter of reducing exposure.  Turning off lights, quieting noises, that kind of thing.” You replied.

 As you spoke, Dabi watched you. He watched the way you never seemed to look up from your lap for very long, your eyes avoiding the light of his lamp.  Your shoulders were hunched against the cold (or was it the pain?), and he recalled how the car alarm before had made you cover your ears.  

 He grabbed another chip as his mind analyzed all the things that he’d missed before.  As soon as it crunched under his teeth, he saw your hands squeeze tightly on the hem of your shirt before loosening again.

 He stared at the bag, before holding it up to you.  “This bothers you?” he asked.

 You averted your eyes, embarrassed.  “Just a little.”

 He slowly put the bag down on the desk, careful not to have it crinkle too loudly.  “Why didn’t you say something?”

 You shrugged.  He scowled.  Then, he stood up with a wince, and closed his open window, drawing the curtains closed to block the brightening daylight.  As he walked back to sit on the bed next to you, he turned off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness that faded to a comfortable dim light once your eyes had adjusted to the change, morning light seeping into the room at an acceptable level.

 You could feel the relief immediately, and you stared at him, bewildered not just by his kindness, but by his awareness.  Was he really paying attention to you that closely?  It made your blood rush in your ears and your heart do somersaults.

 “Thank you.” You said softly.  

 “It’s not a big deal.” He replied as he leaned back and stared at the light dancing on the ceiling. It was the least he could do, he thought.  This discomfort you were feeling was because of him, after all.  Besides, after all you’d done for him – were still doing for him – he figured you’d earned a little bit of kindness in return.

 But only for you.

 Dammit.

 He really was a lost cause.

 “I’m feeling better now…” you said.  “I can finish treating your scars.”

 “It’s fine.” Dabi lied.

 You stood up and faced him. “Let me at least treat your legs. I wasn’t able to get to them last night.”

 “I said it’s fine.”

 “Dabi…” he looked at you and was met with a knowing look on your face.  “Trust me.  I know my limits.  Besides, this is literally my job.”  

 Dabi frowned at you. “No, your job is to treat injuries, not help drug addicts.”

 “My job is to make sure everyone is able to function to the best of their ability.” You countered. You crossed your arms with a smug look. “Don’t make me go tell Shigaraki that you’re being a bad patient.”

 He scowled and looked away. You took that as a surrender and sent him into the bathroom to change into shorts to make your job easier. When he came back out, he was still frowning.

 “You play dirty.” He complained.  “And not in a fun way.”

 You grinned but didn’t respond as you focused on running your hands along his scarred legs, starting at above the knee.  By the time you were done, your quirk was riding the brink, your back on fire again. But you gritted your teeth and bore it, even as sweat beaded across your face.

 You went to your bag and began to rummage through it, wincing as you bent over.  Your back was facing Dabi, your butt in the air, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the view.  A subtle smirk tugged at his lips.  But the grin was short lived; it fell as soon as you stood up, holding the familiar pill bottle in your hand.

 “No.” Dabi said adamantly.

 “Give me a break.” You replied, as you opened the container. “What other options do we have?”

 You held out the three pills towards him, but he stared at them.  “I can’t take these.” He said.

 You took his hand in yours and placed the pills into his palm, closing his fingers over them. “You can, and you will.” You replied. “Besides, it’s temporary, remember?”

 He opened his mouth to protest, but a ding sounded within the room that made you nearly jump out of your skin with your sensitive hearing.  You clumsily pulled your phone out of your bag and opened up your text messages.  Your eyes lit up, and a smile spread across your face before you put the phone away in your bag.

 “Good news,” you said. “Looks like the refills for my pills will be ready for pickup tomorrow.”

 “What about mine?” Dabi asked.

 Your expression fell slightly.  “He didn’t mention them, so I’m guessing they’re not ready yet.”

 “Well that fucking sucks.”

 “It’s not all bad… once I get my refill, there will be enough for both of us.  I asked him to double up the pills so there’d be enough. Then I can really start treating you properly until your pills arrive.  See?  I told you it’d be temporary…”

 Dabi looked up at your happy face and couldn’t deny the relief he felt knowing you weren’t going to be hurting yourself for him for much longer.  “Fine.” He replied.  He swallowed the pills before he could change his mind.

 You picked up your bag with another wince and made your way to the door.  Dabi stood up to follow you, relishing in the painless effort of walking.  He felt like he could run.

 Before you opened his door, you half-turned to him.  “Get some more rest.”  You wrinkled your nose at him.  “And maybe take a shower.  And brush your teeth.”

 Dabi rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

 After you left, he paused for a moment before sniffing his armpit.  He didn’t really smell that bad… did he?

________________________________

Part 9

________________________________

Taglist (always open!): @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus @littleladdty @starsforannie @zunmieh @mae-rd​ @mrsreina​ @ohh-takuuu​ @ih8beefnoodles @kellyyween​ @jojoniles​ @steale24​  @peach-tea-0  @orenjineki​ @diobrandoatemykids  @minionsexuall @liitlesushi​ @jojoniles​ @bilalbambi  @tinitimesims125 @emmappelle​ @babayaga67​

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

I'M HAPPY.

Happy Lowman x Reader

Anon asked: Would you be able to do something with Happy where he’s been seeing a chick for a while and she ends up pregnant and has to tell him, love to see his reaction 🤩🔥

Word Count: 1.5k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

💬: “I need to see you”.

You're walking with fast steps through the living room as a caged lion, from one side to another, once and again till your legs starts to burn and your breathe is shaking enough to know that you need to have a seat. But even sitting in your sofa, your knees goes from top to bottom supported by your tiptoes. It's something that you know it could happen. Happy is Happy and it's feels so good when he spills inside you so warm and pleasurable, that you can't say no. And the fault is partly yours to no have the pill on time. But when you remembered, it was too late and you didn't give it much importance. Now, it has.

Twenty minutes later since you have sent the text, the hum of the engine of a chopper motorbike claims your attention. Jumping off from your sofa and grabbing the pregnancy test on the table, you keep it on the back pocket of your jeans, walking towards the door. Opening it, you find a worried gesture on his face. On him. On the man who has three looks for his face. The angriest one, the ‘I don't give a fuck’, and the ‘shit, baby, you're so wet’. So this one is new for you, after three years knowing him.

When Happy is ready to grab the gun behind the kutte, you raise both hands to let him know that everything is okay. Coming next to you, he holds your right hand to pass away inside the house. Closing the door and letting you go, he continues to the fridge, taking two beers to offers you one. You hold it, looking at the drink with pursed lips.

“Please, sit”. You say with trembling voice, and he notices it.

Happy does it, dragging a chair close to the sofa and making a gesture to it, so you can do the same in front of him. With your thumb and your forefinger your curl your inner lip in a nervous move, looking for the correct words to say. But there isn't a ‘correct way’, nor a easy one. You're pregnant, that's all.

“If you have met another guy, it's okay”. His scratchy voice isn't expected, open his hands for a second while he nods.

Even if he has that look of “I don't give a shit”, you know he's fucked. Happy has been hiding his feelings for you almost for three years, when he realized it the first time he slept in your house. For some reason, he woke up in the middle of the night, with you between his arms. Your legs were tangled, his chest on your back, an arm on your waist and another behind your neck. Close. So close that he could listen your heart beat. He took a deep breath from your collarbone, with those mixed essences of his own, yours, sweat and honey.

His mother adores you. You know his family, his brothers and his nomad's charter. You've been riding by his side and by his back. You have taken care of every wound, of every tattoo and of Opie when he had to leave Charming. You have taken care of him and of everything that surrounds him. So, yes. His heart is breaking into thousands pieces, even if he has that look of “I don't give a shit”.

“I haven't meet anyone”. You clarify, cleaning your throat. “Not in that way”.

“What does it mean?”

“I didn't meet... her yet”.

Happy is trying to see on your face what's going on when you referred to another woman. But he's so confused that he has to drink of his beer to wet his throat.

“I'm not jealous”. He says then, and you're about to laugh when you realize that he thinks you're seeing a girl.

“But I will”.

“I don't have to touch her”.

By the way he has to leave the beer on the table to play with a golden and heavy ring in his finger, you know that he's worried to lose you. And it's the cutest thing you have never seen.

“You will want to hug her, kiss her, introduce her to the Sons' and everyone of your family. You will love her more than I think you actually love me”.

Jesus Christ, he's sweating.

“I don't talk about my feelings, but I know that you're aware of what I want. And I couldn't love anyone more than I love you”.

That was really unexpected, biting your lower lip and starting to move again your legs nervously. Putting away your gaze for a second, you nod. Taking off from your pocket the pregnancy test, you place it next to the closed beer he gave you. His eyes are focused on every move your fingers do, letting them travel to the white stick, swallowing saliva. Leaning against the chair, he rubs his chin thoughtful, licking his lips. After what he just confessed to you, he's making you feel nervous.

Happy takes his personal phone, the one he uses to text you, watching him texting something. After some seconds, he leaves it on the table, when it starts to ding because of a lot of notifications. Looks like the apocalypse.

“Happy...?”

“How do you know it's a girl? How long are you?”

“Two months, more or less. But a friend of mine made me a blood test at the hospital. And she told me about something with chromosomes, or shit like that”.

“Did you think a name?”

His questions are confusing you more than you actually are.

“I like 'Elena'”.

“Happy...”

“It's a beautiful name”.

“Okay, you're fuckin' pissin' me off”. Getting up of your seat with narrowed eyes, you open your arms gesticulating about what's going on 'cause you're lost.

“Why?”

“'Cause you don't look excited, nor... happy. But you're there, choosing a name for our daughter”.

“Shouldn't I? You can choose it, then”.

“It's not about the name”.

“I'm lost, (Y/N)”.

“So I am!”

“But, why?”

“Who you texted to?” You ask pointing the phone on the table.

“Sons', to make a party tonight and celebrate it”.

“Can you please tell me how you feel about having a daughter? 'Cause it's what I need to know”.

“Lucky”.

“You're not... angry or something like...?”

“Why I should be angry? I always wanted to be father”.

“You what?”

“And with you, it just makes it better. You don' have to feel jealous, I have love for both”. He shrugs his shoulders. “We should go to see my mom”.

“Yea'... We should”.

Happy gets up holding your hands to push you into him, pressing his lips on your forehead on a dearly kiss, wrapping your waist with both arms. He hugs you so close that you can't help but place your hands on his nape and head. You were terrified of losing him, being for three years the only break in your stressful days. Now, you can breathe. So he does, after knowing that you weren't putting him away.

“But first...” He whispers on your ear, bending down a little to lift you up, forcing your legs to wrap his hips with both hands squeezing your ass and his lips kissing, biting and sucking your neck. “I'm gonna make sure you're pregnant”.

You chuckle when Happy walks towards your bed, lying there with him on top of you.

“Let's have twins, my love”.

Bonus:

“No, dad! Cereals go first! Don' be a psycho as uncle Tig!”

The laughs of your husband from the kitchen wakes you, getting up on your palms before rubbing your eyes. Wearing one of his shirts, you walk barefoot towards the hallway being followed by the big and white dog, moving his tail happily. In the living room, you can watch on tv how Tom chases Jerry with a fly swatter, before continuing to the kitchen.

Elena is sitting on the counter, moving her tiny legs, looking at his father preparing breakfast.

“Mom! Daddy is back!” She yells overexcited raising her arms. She's also wearing one of Happy's shirt.

He left Charming one week ago and even if you didn't know when he was coming back, you didn't expect to be this sooner.

“Finish it”. Your husband says, giving her the milk, before turning to you.

Without gesture on his face, he pushes you out of the kitchen, twisting his face to it making sure Elena can't see you. Then, he kisses you. Desperate, needy, filthy. Guiding you to the nearest wall, so he can lift you up to rest your back there. He attacks your neck, dragging his teeth over it, covering your mouth to drown every moan he provokes you.

“I missed you, my love”. He says with a throaty tone and his breathe bristling your skin.

[impala-dreamer]

Two Weeks Notice - Day Three

~With the world practicing self-isolation, Y/N and Dean break all the rules of social distancing and common decency as they explore an empty bunker and use the time alone to their playful advantage...~

Dean x Reader

1,645 Words

Warnings: NSFW! Role Play. Bondage. Rough. "Monster Fucking". Slight Pregnancy!Kink, Consensual Non-Con. It's all fantasy! Fluff

Two Weeks Notice Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ My Original Works on Amazon

Dean woke with a start. He felt cold, like a spirit had moved through his body, but that was impossible- wasn’t it? He blinked, clearing the dizziness from his mind and looked around the dark room.

It was hard to see anything much, the table below him giving off such a glow that it nearly burned his eyes. The table.

He was laying flat atop the War Room table, arms and legs spread out as far as the edges of the table would allow. In a moment of panic, he tried to move, twisting his arms, then his legs, but he was strapped down, solidly locked with fabric cuffs laiden with velcro on all sides.

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath to calm himself, trying in vain to remember the last thing that had happened to him.

He’d been coming home with some groceries- ice cream and chips for Y/N, when suddenly…

Nothing. It all went black after that.

He looked down and realized the cold was not a ghost, but a lack of clothing. He was fully naked and on display for anyone to see and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt embarrassed at first, but then a twitch of excitement flooded his system; he knew it was wrong, knew he was in some sort of danger, but he couldn’t help the heat that rushed down to his cock.

A clink of metal from above drew his eyes to the iron balcony.

“Mr. Winchester, good morning.”

His eyes rose to a shadowed figure looking down upon him. Light from the table washed upwards, highlighting a beautiful face with dark lashes and deep red lips.

He sneered, tugging at his cuffs once more for good measure. “You.”

She smiled like a wolf. “Me. Nice to see that I am remembered. A hero such as yourself has too many things on his mind to be remembering lowly creatures; even ones that he tortured.”

Realizing that he had no way to defend himself other than his mouth, Dean smirked and licked his lips smugly. “Lady, I can’t remember every two-bit witch or flea-ridden wolf or whatever the hell you are that I’ve taken down. I just remember a pretty face when I see one.”

A scowl turned her lips downwards and she turned, high heeled leather boots clicking loudly on the metal as she slowly descended the stairs. She wrapped a hand around the banister and Dean’s eyes were glued to the dark red painted claws afixed to her fingertips.

“Baltimore...2003,” she told him plainly, every word corresponding with a step down, a clank of metal. “You murdered my family one night...took their heads clean off.”

Dean kept his cocky attitude and shrugged. “It happens.”

“Does it?” She rounded the bottom of the staircase and turned to him.

“Sometimes.” He sucked in a heavy breath as she came at him, a vision in a tight, shining leather dress. Her tits were pushed high and bubbling over the deep neckline, her waist cinched painfully into the perfect hourglass shape. She was stunning. She was sexy. She was…

“Wait…” Dean narrowed his eyes as her face came into full view. “Y/N.”

Emerald went dark with realization as she bared her vampiric fangs and dove down, wrapping her claws around his face to hold him still. He gasped as she bit into his throat, his pulse racing to flood her mouth with precious blood.

His eyes rolled as she kissed the spot and stood back up, her nails tracing the defined lines of his collarbone and left shoulder.

“So you do remember me.” She grinned and collected a drop of blood from the corner of her lips with her middle finger. She stared at it for a moment, letting it sparkle in the light before sucking the blood and digit into her mouth.

Panting and dizzy, Dean watched her carefully, calculating his next move. “Yeah, I remember you now. You got away, ran out the back door like a coward while I decimated your entire nest.”

Y/N sneered, baring her fangs as her hand rose to grip his throat, squeezing hard. “My family,” she corrected. “You murdered them. I barely escaped.”

“Thin line between escape and fleeing,” he choked.

Seething, Y/N bent down again and tore at his neck, tongue flickering at his pulse as she pulled on his essence.

Dean’s world began to spin and he tugged at his restraints, hopefully when he heard a bit of velcro give. “Vampires are all cowards,” he went on, using her rage to buy himself some time. “I’ve killed thousands. All the same.”

The more he mocked, the harder she sucked, moving around his throat with her deadly kisses. Her hand left his throat as his breathing quickened, fingers sliding down the deep cuts and curves of his firm torso, lower and lower until Dean hissed in protest.

“What do you want from me?”

Y/N lifted her lips from his throat and smiled down into his beautiful eyes. She wrapped a soft hand around his cock and slowly began to stroke him to life.

“I want what you took from me,” she said simply. “I want a new family.”

Dean scoffed but inside he cringed, fearful to become that thing again. He flashed back to years ago when he’d received the magical blood. He could feel it flowing through him again; the power, the connection, the lust of it all. “No.” He tried his best to push it from his mind, but her hand kept his attention elsewhere.

“Tell me, Mr. Winchester, are you familiar with the idea of a True Pure Blood?” Her fingers pulsed around his cock, thumb gently stroking the swollen head.

His head rolled along with his eyes, unable to focus on an escape any longer. “What? No.”

Y/N set her tongue against the sharpest of her fangs and smiled. “It’s the theory that two virial vampires can produce an offspring of immeasurable power, creating a new, True Pure Blood child that cannot be killed.”

“Anything...can be killed.” Dean’s voice caught in his throat as Y/N massaged his balls. “If you take its head off…”

“But what if it were true? What if it could be done?”

“It can’t.” He was panting, stomach muscles tightening, arms straining. “You can’t. It’s a myth. Just lore.”

“Funny,” she teased, lifting her tight skirt and climbing up onto the table beside him. “I thought your brother was the one with the library in his head.”

“I know stuff,” he spat, turning his face from her kiss as she leaned close.

“I bet you do.” It was sweet, almost romantic, the way her lips grazed his ear. Her breath was hot and shiver-inducing as it blew across his flesh. “You’re smart Dean,” she told him in a sultry whisper as she tossed one leg over his thick waist. He closed his eyes, lost to the feeling. “Handsome, clever…” Her pussy was hot and wet as she rubbed herself against his pelvic bone. “Brave, funny…” His cock twitched against her ass, warm and throbbing. “That’s why I chose you.”

His heart nearly stopped as he realized his error. When he looked up, she was barely an inch away, her lips puckered, her eyes hungry.

He shook his head defiantly. “No.”

Y/N smiled kindly. “You have no choice, Dean. It’s already begun.”

Before he could turn his face, Y/N stuck her tongue against her canine and bit down, drawing a river of fresh vampiric blood into her mouth. She kissed him hard, forcing his lips to part with her tongue and pushing the blood into him. He swallowed without a thought and felt the surge of power overtake him.

As they kissed, exchanging the Blood, Y/N scooted back and sank down onto his cock, filling her pussy as she filled his mouth. Her nails dug into his pecs when she pulled back, sitting up to ride him fast and hard.

Dean gasped, shaking against the hard, glowing table as the Blood worked on his system. Y/N kept him distracted while fangs ripped through his gums, his eyes changing, filling with the power. He writhed below her, limbs tensing, pulling at the straps, his chest heaving as he neared the end.

“Hush now,” she soothed, running a cold hand down his sweaty cheek. “You’re gonna be a great dad.”

He roared as he came, pain and pleasure mixing into one giant explosion that nearly knocked him out.

Y/N rode on, letting go of him for her own pleasure as she felt him spill into her throbbing cunt. She came soon after, using him like a toy, cackling into the empty War Room as she shuddered with pleasure.

“Rest now,” she said, climbing off of him and adjusting her dress. “You’ll need your strength to go again in a bit.”

Dean reeled. “Again? I…”

“Oh, you will,” she assured him, planting a sweet kiss on his forehead. “We’re gonna keep going until you’ve knocked me up for sure. The True Pure Blood must be born.”

Dean lifted his head as she backed away, face contorting with sudden worry. “Uh… ok, but you’re still on the pill though, right?”

Y/N laughed, nearly doubling over as the facade was broken. “Of course! What the fuck, dude!”

He sighed gratefully and lay back down, laughing at himself. “OK, good. I’m not- that’s not- I mean… yeah… no.”

“Agreed.”

He twisted at the cuffs again and turned back to find her walking from the room. “Hey! You gonna let me go?”

Y/N shrugged and eyed him over her shoulder. “Eh… maybe later. You look sexy like that.”

He watched in arousing horror as she actually walked away, heels clicking down the hallway into the shadows.

“Ah, nuts.”

2020 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @amanda-teaches @bakutododeku69 @because-imma-lady-assface @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @cheritzie @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansotherotherblog @deanmonandnegansbitch @deansgirl215 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @dontshootmespence @emoryhemsworth @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @hannahindie @herbologystudent252 @ilsawasanacrobat @justcallmeasmodeus @ladyjenny19 @laxe-from-outer-space @letsby @mariekoukie6661 @missjenniferb​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @msjava1972​ @mylovelydame21​ @mysticmaxie​ @pilaxia​ @sandlee44 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @squirrelnotsam​ @typicalweirdbookworm​ 

TWN: 

@rebelemilu​ @pastathighs​ @deans-baby-momma @bobbie3939 @peachyafshawn @spencer-reids-babygirl @akrasiaev @shadowkat-83​ @deangirl7695 @foxyjwls007 @bxbyizzy @chenshemesh1 @pandaxo79 

[sadaboutniall]

Without Fear

masterlist | tag | wattpad

Chapter One. January.

remember that first laugh? all it changed once I had that // like a hurricane, but I don't care where I land - rome, dermot kennedy 

The whole thing had started out as a joke. Or maybe a pipe dream. Or maybe a massive mental breakdown and a poorly thought-through trip to the passport office for a rush renewal and a visa application. 

No matter how it had started, Luna hadn’t actually thought it would pan out. Two and a half months ago, standing in her parents’ kitchen in New York, reading the lawyer’s letter, it had been a shiny, exciting, half-baked idea—an escape she could cling to while everything else was going to shit. It hadn’t been a reality. 

It was hardly a reality even as it began to happen: Luna, packing her bags on a Friday night, deciding which pictures of her ex to keep and which to toss; Luna’s dad, hoisting her bags into the trunk of the car for her; Luna’s mom, petting her hair as she hugged her goodbye at the airport.

And it wasn’t real when she got to Inis Mór either: her snug little apartment above the coffee shop, the smattering of mismatched furniture that her Great Aunt Niamh had left behind, Ruairí, the black cat her new neighbor had been feeding, the mess of her suitcases, exploding on the floor, markedly different to the seemingly ancient chairs and quilts and sweaters that Niamh left for her. 

Or, just left. It’s been hard for Luna to tell what’s for her and what isn’t. 

And even now, nearly a month into living here and it only half feels real, the way she gets up every morning and putters down to the shop to open up, the cat following behind her, meowing for breakfast and Siobhan, the baker, already well on her way to done with the morning’s pastries, the smell of cinnamon and dough and vanilla and the cold air outside wafting through the shop to wake Luna up sweetly; the way old Mr. Whelan is always her first customer, never deviates from his order of a black coffee and a croissant, toasted; the rush of cold air every time someone opens the door, feeling like it’s flaying the shop open, sending napkins fluttering to the floor, causing Ruairí to hiss in protest and curl up closer to the fireplace. There’s nothing real in the way the sun sets at 4pm these days, quick as a wink over the hill outside the window, a flash of orange and purple the only reminder that day once broke in this place that always feels dark, under cover. There’s nothing real in the way Luna needn’t worry about anything here—her rent is paid and there are no deadlines anymore, no screaming bosses, no one angry with her for dropping an artist file or fucking up a coffee order. It’s not real, not even when she calls home and talks to her parents, when they tell her about her brother Sam’s new PhD research and his girlfriend Mary’s trip to Honduras. It’s not real, any of it. And it works. It’s fine. And so is Luna. 

It’s hardly real on a Monday night at the end of January, either, after Siobhan has already left for the day and Luna is quietly closing up, tucking mugs into cabinets and dropping bits of pastry on the floor for the cat. She’s not thinking about much of anything—in the month she’s been here, Lu’s found the very start and very end of her days to be the most relaxing, the way she can clear up the shop or fire up the coffee maker without having to talk to anyone, think about anything. It’s so markedly different from what feels like a lifetime ago: bustling into the office at 8:30 and still feeling like she was late, a tray of coffees balanced in one hand, someone’s dry cleaning in the other, 12 voicemails already waiting for her, 30 emails, more coming through as her phone vibrated in her pocketbook. This is quiet and slow: Ruairí is weaving between her legs, meowing gently when he wants more treats, and outside it’s dark and still and cold, despite it being only 7pm. Luna is tired but not wiped—a feeling she forgot existed before leaving New York—and it occurs to her that she can have a slice of cake tonight in front of the TV, and maybe a glass of wine, while watching Law and Order until she falls asleep. 

She’s lost in that thought—and the already building annoyance at the fact that she knows she’ll inevitably wake up on the couch at 3am and have to stumble to bed—when the door creaks open, nighttime wind rushing in, a boy stumbling after it. 

“So sorry,” Lu looks up from where she’s been wiping down the counter behind the pastry display. “I’m closing up. But I still have a few leftover slices of cake if you want—”

“Oh, erm,” the boy stills, maybe surprised, and Lu does too. He’s—well. Lu hasn’t seen anyone here who looks like him. 

He’s a mess of hat hair, dark at the roots and an unnatural blonde at the tips, curling over his ears and flopping over one eyebrow. He’s bright blue eyes, wide when he looks at her, and cheeks flushed red to match the tip of his nose, and a smattering of stubble along his face, darkening in the dimple of his chin, his pink lips chapped where his tongue darts out to soothe them. He takes her breath away for half a second—or maybe that’s the rush of wind that crashed against her chest when he opened the door. 

The boy is clutching a guitar by its neck, gloved hand wrapped almost reverently around it, and his white high-top sneakers are mucky where the rubber soles have been sludging through the perma-mud outside. He looks like something out of a dream, maybe, Lu’s heart catching a little in her throat. 

“Hi,” he says, finally, looking just as out of sorts as Lu feels. She’s not sure if that’s good or bad, but he carries on. “I wasn’t expecting—I didn’t think you would be so… uh. American? Uh,” gently, he tucks the guitar under his arm and tugs off his navy blue gloves, the cotton pilling from wear. “I’m Niall,” he reaches out a hand. It’s cold when Lu takes it to shake, when he wraps it gently around her own. “I live Kilronan.” 

“Hiya,” Lu’s voice comes out softer than she expected it to. “I’m Lu. I work here.” 

“Right, right,” Niall nods, swallows thick. “You’re Niamh’s niece? I was so sorry to hear about her passing—she—”

“Great niece,” Lu rushes over Niall, exhausted, even a month later, of every introduction on this island starting with a condolence. “I actually only met her once. But it sounds like she was a force.”

“You—once?” Niall shoves his gloves into the pocket of his puffer jacket. 

“Yeah,” Lu shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Was there, uh,” she doesn’t want to get rid of him,  but doesn’t know where to go next. “Did you want one of those slices of cake? I’m sorry for you to come all the way from Kilronan for nothing.”

“Oh,” Niall looks like he’s only just remembered where he is. “No, I didn’t come for cake. I, uh, I have a… a question? An idea?”

Briefly, Lu worries if she should be nervous—but crime doesn’t happen here, not like this, and Lu knows the statistics when it comes to stranger attacks. Either way, Niall keeps talking before she can spiral, the words tumbling out like he knows he has to speak before he thinks better of it.

“I, uh, I was wondering if there’s any chance you were looking for someone to, like, play guitar and sing a bit? Like, live music in the shop for a couple hours a week? You don’t have to pay me or anything, ‘m not asking for that, but I could maybe leave my case open for tips? I can do covers or requests or—whatever you want, really. And I can give you my work schedule and we can work around that; I’m free on the weekends mostly, except for when I coach football, but also on weeknights if you’d prefer that and if you want to split the tips I understand, we can do that too, and also—” 

“Niall,” Lu can’t take it. He’s speaking so fast it’s shuttling her toward an anxiety attack, and throwing up on the shoes of the first cute boy she’s seen in a month was not on her agenda for today. Meeting a cute boy in general was not on her agenda for today, but Lu’s been learning that things don’t tend to pan out the way she plans them. “I like the idea. That sounds cool.” 

“I totally understand if—wait, really?” Niall pauses, hand halfway up to his face, like he was going to cover his mouth, or rub his eyes, or bite his nails. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open a little, like he didn’t expect it to be that easy. Like he didn’t accept Lu to be agreeable at all. 

“Yeah,” Lu shrugs, then nods at the guitar still tucked under Niall’s arm, “but you’ll need to audition for me,” she bites back a cheeky smile, watches Niall do the same. “I can’t have a crap singer driving away all my customers.”

“Ah, fair play,” the left side of Niall’s mouth pulls up into a smile, and Lu pointedly ignores the kick in her chest. “What would you like to hear?”

She shrugs again, as if “casual” or “easygoing” were ever words people would’ve used to describe her back home. “Your favorite song?”

“My favorite—” Niall scoffs, but there’s no malice in it—it’s playful, inviting, fun. It makes Lu feel like he wants to keep talking to her. Like he wants her to keep winding him up. “You think I can narrow it down to one favorite song?”

“I can,” Lu smiles, soft, “I’m good at making decisions.” 

“Go on, tell us then.” 

“You first,” Lu gestures toward a table, the only one in the shop that isn’t rickety when there’s too much weight on it. “Then I’ll tell ya.” 

Niall hums under his breath, approval, and settles himself on top of the table easily, feet perched on the chair, guitar natural in his lap. He strums once, to check that everything is in tune, and then glances up through the bit of hair that’s fallen over his eye. He’s striking—bright blue eyes, a shock of blonde at the tips of his hair, a lone dimple digging into his filled out cheeks—and Lu feels her stomach swoop and kick again. She takes a deep breath, crosses her arms over her chest. Niall sits up straight. 

“Alright,” he says it so quietly that Lu thinks it might just be for him. She’s suddenly struck with the notion that she’s intruding on something, a moment between Niall and his guitar and himself that isn’t for her—that, maybe, this isn’t something a lot of people get to see. 

And, if that’s true, Lu realises the second he starts strumming, it’s a damn shame. 

It takes Lu a second to recognize the song, but it doesn’t even matter. With a guitar in his hand Niall is even more mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. Completely, incomprehensibly, irresistible.

And then he opens his mouth. And Lu feels sick. 

It’s “With or Without You”. 

But there’s none of the corniness, none of the playful groaning and eye rolling that usually accompanies a U2 cover. Instead, Lu feels frozen to her spot in the middle of the shop, Niall, seated atop the table, eyes down, an anchor in the middle of this island. His voice, lower than she expected, and raspy in all the right places, is somehow vulnerable and confident at the same time—somehow makes her want to simultaneously hold him and be held by him, to protect him and let him protect her. It’s real. It’s vulnerable. It’s terrifying. Lu doesn’t know what to do with it. 

The song lasts forever and is over in an instant. Eyes closed, Niall carries out the final, desperate, confident, terrified, “I can’t live, with or without you,” as he stops playing and lets his voice take over. The whole shop shakes with it. Or maybe that’s just Lu, trembling. 

His eyes don’t open for a few seconds. Lu can feel herself breathing, she can feel her heart beating, she can feel the wind, outside, throwing itself against the shop’s ancient windows. She can feel it when Niall opens his eyes. 

“Was it that shite?” 

Overwhelmed, Lu exhales an unstoppable, lovely laugh. Niall’s cheeks are red and his eyes are a little glassy and he runs a hand through his thick hair, his bicep flexing just a millimeter. Lu already knows there’s no way this can last.

“Terrible,” she smiles. “Worst I’ve ever heard. When can you start?” 

####

They work out the schedule together, leaning over the only good table, comparing planners. Lu still keeps her old Moleskin, dark purple, embossed with her college seal and the year she graduated. She hasn’t needed it much lately—after years of her work, and eventually her social life, revolving around Google Calendar, she feels a freedom in being able to jot down appointments and approximate times in a messy journal. Niall’s got a battered leather one—doodles on the front, his name in script on the first page. He flips through it quickly, keeps it close to his chest. 

He works at a local furniture and home goods boutique most days, as a design consultant, and coaches the middle school’s co-ed soccer team on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons, with games on Saturdays. Lu tells him not to overbook himself but he does it anyway, and they settle on Monday, Thursday, and Friday nights, as well as Saturday mornings, starting the next week. He says he’ll have a friend work up posters to advertise, and tries, again, to tell Lu he’ll split his tips. 

At 10:30, he notices the time, his cheeks pinking up, his chapped lower lip caught between his teeth. They’d been splitting the final two slices of cake, and there’s a tiny glob of chocolate caught in the corner of his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he says, looking reluctant, “I’ve got to go, I’m meant to be at work at 8 tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, God,” Lu feels a bit like she’s coming out of a daze, that feeling she gets, sometimes, when she’s been reading a book or watching a movie and then has to reimmerse herself in the real world. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.” 

“No, no,” Niall rushes, “you didn’t. I—thank you. For the chocolate cake. And the, uh, opportunity.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Lu presses her lips together, resists the urge to lean forward and thumb at the chocolate on his mouth. “You’ve got, uh, a bit of chocolate,” she touches the mirroring spot on her own mouth, “right there.” 

“Right,” he smiles, tongue darting out to catch it. “I won’t. Thanks.” 

Lu gathers the plates and cups and totes them to the sink while Niall gets his things together. When she turns around, he’s bundled in his coat and scarf, hat pulled low over his brows, free hand shoved into the pocket of his puffer. She doesn’t know how to look away from him. 

“I guess I’ll see you next week, then?” He asks, fiddling with the zipper on his puffer. He hasn’t got all the chocolate—Lu wonders what it would taste like against his lips.

“Next week,” she echoes. “Yeah.” 

“Brilliant. I’ll, uh—I’m excited. Have a good week.” 

Lu’s “and you” gets lost in her throat as she watches Niall head toward the door. His hand is on the knob when he turns back around. 

“Wait, Lu.” 

The sound of her name in his mouth makes her heart stutter. She hopes her raised brow will pass for a response. 

“You didn’t tell me.” 

“What?” She gets that out, at least.

“Your favorite song of all time,” Niall smiles, dimple prominent. “What is it?”

Looking back, Lu has no idea where the sudden confidence comes from. But, somehow, it does. She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not sure I want to tell you yet,” she says, kind. “I want to see if you figure it out for yourself.” 

####

taglist: @missy14us @coconutdawn @ficnarry @okaaayniall @theresnooneheretosave @niallgolden @tinyfelthat @adoremp3 @thelifeofbo @crocodileniall @niallsguitarthings 

Join the tag list here.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 6- The Day That Wasn’t

Summary: Eyyy another family meeting, and let’s see if you can get Klaus sober again.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

You’ve been summoned yet again for another Hargreeves family meeting, you’re not even a legit Hargreeves either. But alas, you’ve known them since you were 12 and this is kinda Diego’s family so, even a bigger reason to be here. You’re all positioned in various spots around the bar area, as Allison kindly hands everyone a coffee while her and Luther talk about what Five said earlier. Diego’s sitting on your left while you lean into his side, the both of you sharing a cup of coffee since Allison’s container only held four. Klaus is sitting on the floor in front of the other chair-type-couch opposite of you and Diego, Luther is seated on a barstool while Allison stands next to him, leaning herself against the bar.

“Three days?” Questions Allison, at the literal bombshell of learning that the apocalypse is coming.

“That’s what Five said.” Replies Luther taking a cup from her.

“The old bastard did mention the apocalypse, come to think of it. He just left out the part about how soon.” Says Klaus, taking a small sip from his cup.

“But can we trust him? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Five’s a little...” Allison makes a circular motions to her head as she whistles. Klaus chuckles, “Our little psycho.”

“He was pretty convincing. If he wasn’t trying to stop an apocalypse, those lunatics wouldn’t be chasing him.” Explains Luther. You give a small nod while Diego hands you the half empty cup with his non injured arm.

“Yeah.”

“What did Five even see?” Allison asks Luther, the rest of you staring intently, listening to the crucial information he’s about to tell you next. His face seems to fall a bit, like he doesn’t really want to reveal any details. “Uh....apparently, we all fought together against whoever was responsible.” He pauses, looking at all your faces, clearly still hiding something. Now this information you hadn’t had a chance to hear yet, so you’re all ears to learn how the world ends. Luther then gets up off the barstool, “Okay. So, here’s the plan. Uh, we go through Dad’s research..” The four of you all start speaking at once, definitely not interested in searching through any old papers. “Hold on, hold on.” “Wait a tick, wait a tick, wait a tick.” Diego and Klaus interrupting each other.

You finally speak up, gaining everyone’s attention, “Luther, we’re missing a...oh I don’t know... a minor detail here, what happened the first time around? What did Five see?” He looks at you nervously, well that can’t be good. “Yeah. What are you not telling us? Come on, big boy, spit it out.” Adds Diego. Luther’s eyebrows furrow, he looks almost scared. For a good five seconds he stares back at the four of you, then he looks down at his coffee cup before taking a sip he says something you almost didn’t catch, “We died.” He whispers as he takes a long sip, your nerves prick, you definitely heard that right.

 “What was that?” Wonders Allison wanting to hear it louder.

 Luther brings his cup down, clearing his throat for a second, “I said, uh, we died.” He says louder this time.

 Everyone’s faces morph into that of complete shock and evident surprise. Just hearing him tell you everyone dies again, still sends your nerves into hyperdrive, a wave of fear washing over you instantly, and it’s only Wednesday.

——

Some time passes and more squabbling ensues, now your all sitting around the bar practically interrogating Luther about the apocalypse, he’s doing his best to answer your rapid fire questions. You suddenly hear the sound of Vanya’s light footsteps roaming around the Academy with someone following her? They don’t appear to be of any threat either. Huh. “No, outside the house. Everyone died.” “You don’t say” “That’s terrible.”

“Hey.” Says Vanya, finally revealing herself and her less then suspisous looking friend, who’s smiling oddly at the five of you. The others look up from their conversation. “What’s going on?” She wonders.

All of you shift around awkwardly, “It’s a family matter.” Replies Allison, you cringe inside, eh probably not the best thing to say to Vanya right now, considering no one invited her.

“A family matter. So you couldn’t bother to include me.” Scoffs Vanya, disappointed but not surprised at her family’s tendencies.

 “No, it’s not like that. We were...” Starts Luther, apologetically, “Don’t let me interrupt.” Vanya cuts in turning to walk away.

 “Wait.” Says Allison rushing over to a retreating Vanya, “I’ll fill you in later when we’re alone.” She pleads, trying to make amends.

 Vanya waves her off, “Please, please, don’t bother. And I won’t either.” Snaps Vanya turning to face Allison.

“Vanya that’s not fair.” Jabs Allison, uh just leave the poor woman alone, you think. Vanya’s face falls, “Fair? There’s nothing fair about being your sister. I have been left out of everything for as long as I can remember. And I used to think it was Dad’s fault, but he’s dead.” She turns angrily to look at the rest of you by the bar, “So it turns out you’re the assholes.” She sourly ends with, turning away and walking out of sight, her friend trailing behind her.

“Ouch.” Comments Klaus, you raise a glass to that, downing the whole thing in one gulp. Allison turns around to face the rest of you, “I’m gonna go find Vanya and explain.” She says, not feeling right about what just happened. “No, wait, there isn’t time. We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse. Now there are loads of possibilities.....Nuclear war, asteroids. But I’m thinking this is about the Moon. Right? Dad must have sent me up there for a reason. And I was giving him daily updates on the conditions, I sent field samples.” Rambles Luther, you share a bored look with Diego, then to waste time you stick your tongue out at Klaus, who returns the favor. “The first thing we need to do is find his research.” Klaus suddenly cuts in, “Hold the phone. We all died fighting this thing the first time around. Remember?” Points out Klaus.

“That actually makes sense, surprisingly. What gives us the upper hand this time around?” You wonder, hoping this meeting will end soon, you’ve got assassins to hunt.

 “Five. Last time we didn’t have him. We weren’t all together.” Answers Luther as Klaus gets off the barstool holding a hand up to his mouth like he’s about to vomit. Luther continues oblivious, “This time, we’ll have the full force of the Umbrella Academy. That’s what we need.” States Luther ever so confident in his leadership skills.

 “Okay, little problem. Five’s MIA once again.” You add bluntly, leaning yourself against the bar, raising your eyebrows at Luther who’s on the other side.

 “Well, he had a plan to change the timeline. He’ll be back soon.” Answers Luther, only a tinge unsure of himself, you roll your eyes at him. “I’m going after those masked motherfuckers.” You growl, not wanting to waste anymore time. Luther looks at you in slight confusion, Diego speaking up to clarify, “Hazel and Cha-Cha.” You push yourself up off the counter, walking around the bar and past them as Luther questions why, “What, right now?” Diego follows you turning to answer Luther, “Hell, yeah.”

Luther then does his best to stop you, “I know you wanna avenge your friend, but we got bigger problems here.” You swiftly twist around walking in closer to Luther, if he didn’t know any better he’d probably be a tad bit afraid, “She didn’t deserve to die like that, neither have countless others. If I’m gonna die....and I mean actually die. I want to know it was me who killed those fuckers.” You hiss, fed up with being forced to listen for 20 boring minutes about the apocalypse and how we’re gonna stop it. Five’s not even here to help, so what’s the point. You needed more information first. Not caring for an answer from Luther, you turn around and head elsewhere.

——

After a bathroom pit stop cause lets be real coffee does that to you, you walk into the hallway, not hearing a single sound. Alright where did Diego go? You close your eyes and listen, hyper focusing on the world around you, searching in the darkness for a sliver of sound. Your ears prick at the creaking of floorboards up above you and the familiar thump of Diego’s boots along with Klaus’. Got em, they’re in the attic.

Silently walking up the wooden staircase you turn to your left, walking into the room to see Diego tying Klaus up to a chair. “If I see a boner, I’m out.” Grumbles Diego, who’s walking around Klaus in a circle while tightening the blue rope. You snort, “Is this a bad time?” The two of them shoot their heads up to look at your amused face. “Oh, hello there Y/H. I’m gonna get sober.” Says Klaus casually, his face scrunching up as he starts to laugh. You smirk, folding your arms together, “Interesting. End of the world and you wanna get clean? I mean, you go Klaus, but I’d guess you’d wanna pop every pill in sight.” You wonder, truly puzzled as to his true motives. “Oh, the thought did cross my mind, believe me, but there’s something I need to do, and the whole pesky thing doesn’t seem to work unless I’m sober.” Explains Klaus as Diego gets on his knee to tie down Klaus’ legs. “Is this about conjuring the one you lost?” Asks Diego, Klaus just sighs sadly. “What was her name?” Diego wonders, still working on that knot.

You notice how Klaus’ face shifts from sad to happy to sad again, “His name was Dave. We soldiered together in the A Shau Valley...in the Mountain of the Crouching Beast.” He let’s out a shaky breath, you feel for him, the way he talks about Dave and how his body language changes with different emotions, the way he smiles adoringly at his sweet memories. It’s almost like how Diego looks when he’s complimenting you on something. Your heart hurts for Klaus, you couldn’t imagine a world without Diego in it, life would be so much more dull and quiet. “He must have been a very special person to put up with all your weird-ass shit.” You tell him while smiling, he snorts breaking out into a large grin, “Yeah. Yeah, he was...He was kind, and strong, and vulnerable, and...beautiful. And I was foolish enough to follow him all the way to the front line.” He explains, his voice changing with every emotion. Diego looks up in surprise, “You fought in the shit?” Klaus looks at him, “Oh yeah, war couldn’t take enough bodies. Please. Including his.” Klaus’ face darkens, but only for a moment, “Hey, look at us. Logging in some quality bro time before the end of the world.” Cheers Klaus, Diego gives a slight chuckle, finishing the last knot and getting up to walk towards you.

 “Ah, shit.” Whines Klaus loudly, both of you turning to see what’s the matter. 

“What?” Asks Diego.

 “I need to pee.”

You roll your eyes looking around the room, spotting what you had in mind, “Okay good, here’s a bucket.” Walking over to it, you pick it up, setting it down next to Klaus. “Piss, shit, throw up, whatever you need to do. It’s your multipurpose bucket, have a blast.” You tell him sarcastically, giving him a kind smile. He looks back up at you with an unpleasant gaze, wanting to argue but knowing to well that you’d just harass him more. Diego turns to leave, you following right behind him, “No wait, come back. Come back! Come back you pricks!” He shouts defiantly, you don’t want to but it’s for the best, so you ignore him. Trailing Diego down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom of the steps, you just need a moment to chill, maybe a ten minute break. With that in mind you walk towards your old bedroom, Diego silently following your lead.

Walking inside you stop and stretch, taking in your surroundings, “Damn, this room is nicer then the one back home, er...well...we don’t exactly have a bedroom.” You tell him, walking over to the large bed, where you jump on it, laying sprawled out on the whole thing. Ugh, you forgot how comfortable it was, and so soft too.

Diego stands in the middle of your room, fiddling with his arm brace, since he did get shot and all. He suddenly looks up at you smiling, laughing to himself, “What’s so funny Hargreeves?” You call out to him, still staring up at the ceiling. He chuckles again, “Remember when Luther burst through here, cause he thought we were doing something else. When we were really just jumping on the bed, smacking each other with those foam swords you bought at the dollar store.” You smile at the memory, letting out a breathy laugh. “I honestly can’t believe none of them ever actually caught us in the act. That was a true miracle.” You mutter. Diego starts walking over to you with a hint of something new in his eyes, your face falls into a frown when you hear the oddly familiar humming of, Grace? But that can’t be, how is she?

Noticing your abrupt change in mood, Diego stops, confusion and a bit of disappointment flashing through his dark eyes. You make eye contact with him, “This is gonna sound crazy. But I can hear Grace humming downstairs.” You tell him, his eyebrows furrow, he definitely was not expecting you to say that of all things.

——

The both you walk cautiously down the stairs and into the main living room where Grace is dusting the head of a warthog. Humming to herself as casually as ever, you stand in the doorway, letting Diego walk up to her. He questions how she’s able to walk around like nothing bad ever happened to her. Grace answers cheerfully, smiling brightly. You decide to let them have their peace, so you turn around and wait by the front door.

Diego and Grace walk aimlessly into the front room, it appears that Grace would like to go for a walk in the park this evening. With nothing better to do and no clear idea where Hazel and Cha-Cha could possibly be, you follow along.

By the time you all make it halfway through the park, it’s dark out and the night air is cool, your personal favorite time of day. Not a lot of people are walking around, the world is quieter, and there’s no sun to blind you when you forget your sunglasses. Grace suddenly stops, a look of concern melted onto her smooth features, “There’s something else that needs to be said, Diego. Pogo and I...we’ve been lying. Lying to all of you.” She states, you walk in closer to her, “What do you mean Grace?” You ask her, perplexed as to what she might tell you next.

——

The six of you gather around the bar, all conversing about how the apocalypse could start and how we might be able to stop it. From your spot behind the bar, next to Diego, you get the oddest feeling of deja vu. When a flash of blue unexpectedly appears, bringing Five with it. He falls onto the table in front of you, landing hard on a black briefcase. The rest of you, jumping back in surprise, definitely not expecting Five to randomly teleport from out of nowhere.

“You guys, am I still high, or do you see him, too?” Asks Klaus bewildered, as Five rolls off the side of the bar.

 “Five, where have you been? Who did this?” Demands Luther as he and Allison go to help Five up.

 “Irrelevant.” Snaps Five, on to more important things.

 He takes a coffee cup out of Luther’s hand, and downs the whole thing. As you all watch, completely dumbfounded as to what’s even happening right now. Five finishes his drink, turning around with a hard look on his face, “So, the apocalypse is in three days. The only chance we have to save our world is, well, us.” He explains.

“The Umbrella Academy.” Says Luther, stating quite the obvious.

“Yeah, but with me, obviously. So if y’all don’t get your sideshow acts together and get over yourselves, we’re screwed. Who cares if Dad messed us up? Are we gonna let that define us? No. And to give us a fighting chance to see next week, I’ve come back with a lead.” Five says, holding up a white folded piece of paper, “I know who’s responsible for the apocalypse. This is who we have to stop.” Allison takes the paper from his hand, the rest of you gathering around her to see what it says. “Harold Jenkins?” She wonders aloud.

“Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?” Questions Diego.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan 

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Or on FF

Tagging:  @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo

Chapter 6: As You Wish

Emma wasn’t waiting for Ruby to get back to her room. Not at all. She was simply staring at the door in case anyone interesting walked by. At least that is what she told herself. She had spent the last hour convincing herself that she didn’t care what Ruby and Killian were up to. She could barely stomach the guy at all and if Ruby wanted to deal with his bullshit, who was she to stop her.

She peeked her head out the door and peered down the hall.

“Help you with something Emma?”

She jumped and grabbed her heart. “My God you scared me.” Graham was standing behind her with a grin across his face. “Um no, I was just waiting for Ruby to get back from…” She paused and bit her lip. “The cafeteria.”

“Bit late to be eating don’t you think? It’s almost lights out.”

Emma panicked. She didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. “Female issues.” She said with a shy smile. “Chocolate make the cramps go away.” She cringed at her own words and he put his hands up in front of him.

“Say no more.” He backed away quickly and continued down the hall.

“Ugh.” She groaned just as she heard voices coming from the other end of the hallway. She ran back into the room and jumped into her bed, grabbing a magazine, and holding it up in front of her, quickly flipping it again so that it was right side up.

“Thanks again Ruby, you really are a very sweet lass.” Emma rolled her eyes, staring down at the magazine.

“Well, you know what I said earlier, you come find me, anytime.”

“Goodnight, Love.”

“Night Killian.”

Emma felt like vomiting. It wasn’t that she cared about Killian and Ruby doing whatever they were off doing together, she didn’t. Not entirely. Maybe she was just lonely. That had to be what it was. She’d felt alone since getting to the island.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true either. She and Jefferson had become like kindred spirits. He had a way of making her laugh that made her feel free. She hadn’t felt that way in such a long time that she found herself looking forward to hanging out with him. Not that she didn’t think he might have a screw loose, or maybe even two. But he was very sweet to her and she enjoyed the attention.

So maybe it wasn’t loneliness that had her seeing red when Ruby walked into the room, her cheeks flushed, and her clothes still covered in sand. “Looks like you had an interesting evening.” She said dryly.

The girl looked down at her clothes, brushing them off with a giggle. “Oh yeah well, we were um…”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I don’t care to hear the damn details.”

“I was right about one thing though.”

Emma looked up from her magazine. The girl stretched her hands apart and mouthed ‘big dick’. Emma shook her head, her insides fuming as she gritted her teeth. “Don’t care, Rubes.” She tossed her magazine to the ground and rolled onto her side, pulling her covers over her head. “Turn off the light when you are done, please.”

She didn’t sleep well that night. She told herself it was because in the morning she would have to go to another group therapy session, but she knew that wasn’t entirely the reason for her foul mood. Looking over at Ruby still sleeping in her bed, she got up and quietly dressed for the day, sneaking out to grab some breakfast before their session. She didn’t feel like spending the morning listening to her roommate talk about Killian or the size of any of his damn parts.

She grabbed her tray, a short stack of pancakes and bacon, before settling into a seat in the corner of the cafeteria. It was quiet and she was grateful to have a moment to collect her thoughts before she had to deal with the entire group again. Apparently therapy patients were not early risers because she continued to be the only person in the room for thirty minutes. However, as soon as she heard his voice, she started gathering her plates and stood from the table, watching as Ruby and Killian entered the room, both laughing about something stupid she was sure he had said.

She threw away her garbage and walked toward the door. “Something I said again?” He joked loudly as she approached the exit. She paused for a moment and turned back toward him, extending her middle finger, before continuing toward the hallway. She didn’t know why she was being so childish, but it felt good.

She was still early for group, but she didn’t know where else to go so she made her way to the room and sat in an empty chair around the circle.

“You don’t get any bonus points for being early.” She looked up to see August enter the room. “But I’m glad to see you came back.”

“Ready for round 2 of my interrogation.” She said mockingly.

“We haven’t really had a moment to chat.” He looked around the room. “Seems now is as good a time as any.” Emma shrugged, looking apprehensive. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for last session. I want you to know it wasn’t personal.”

“Really? Because it felt personal.”

“Look I’ve been here four weeks now, I get it. It’s not easy coming from a life you know to somewhere like this where you are forced to face the darkest shit about yourself. It’s not always fun looking that deep.”

“Or having someone tell you who you are when they don’t even know you.”

“Fair point, Emma. But have you ever had anyone just tell it to you how it is, no bullshit, no sugar? Because that’s where you gotta get to here. You have to rip the bandage off and let it bleed.”

“That’s graphic.” She scowled.

They heard voices and looked up as the others entered the room. Ruby coming in and plopping down in the seat next to her. “You got up early.”

Emma shrugged but smiled at her.

Killian took the seat directly across from her, his dark eyes meeting hers as Dr. Hopper walked in with Will and Jefferson.

“Looks like the gang is all here.” Will joked, taking the seat on the other side of her. “Mornin’ beautiful.”

Emma scrunched her nose, watching him from the corner of her eyes. “Um hi.”

“Alright who wants to go first today?”

“I will.” Ruby volunteered and Emma happily turned to her other side to watch her roommate speak.

“My Grans is coming to family day this time. I’m really excited to see her.”

“That’s great, Ruby. That’s a big step. You didn’t think she would come last time we talked.”

“Yeah, I guess she’s still upset with me. Disappointed, but she’s willing to come support me.”

“How are your phone calls going with her?”

“Good, a bit short still. She doesn’t want to have to talk about all the um, men, I’ve done around town. Apparently, I have a fan club that comes looking for me at the diner.”

“Is it just you and her at home?”

“Um yeah, she took care of me for as long as I can remember.”

“Your parents are gone?”

“Dad passed when I was five, mom didn’t handle it well. She wasn’t around much and then it was just me and Grans.”

“So, you grew up without a man in your life?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Do you think not having a father around might have led to an unhealthy obsession with men?”

She shrugged. “I guess. It’s not like I sleep with men because I want my daddy if that’s what you’re thinking?”

“Sounds to me like daddy issues is a common theme in this room.”

Emma glared at August. “Again, with that shit? Can a woman have self-esteem issues without you automatically assuming it has to do with a man?”

He held his hands up in front of his body. “Truce, please continue.”

“Anyway, in the beginning I liked being with them because they bought me alcohol. Treated me nice, bought me things. But then I just found that I wanted to please them, almost like I needed to, like it made me high anytime I was offering sexual favors.”

“I wish I had a sex addiction.” Will announced and every laughed. “Sure, sounds like a better way to get high.”

“Sex addiction is not a laughing matter, it’s very serious. It leads to unhealthy relationships, low self-esteem, depression.” Their therapist tried to explain.

“That about sums me up.” Ruby said with a shrug, a frown on her face for just a moment before her mask took over again and she plastered the smile back on her face.

“I don’t get how having sex is somehow a serious issue.” August rolled his eyes and crossed his arms against his chest.

“You know, you may not take it seriously, poor little rich girl, got drunk, had sex with a man who beat the shit out of her, took too many pills, and ended up here. Sex addiction seems stupid to you but try living with it every day. When the only way to feel good about yourself is if you please someone else.” Ruby had tears on her cheek and Emma reached over to take her hand.

August sighed. “I’m sorry Rubes, you’re right, it was wrong of me to say that.”

“I don’t need your pity. Or yours.” She pointed to Will. “Maybe yours, cuz you’re hot.” She winked at Killian and Emma flushed.

“Ok thank you for sharing today, Ruby.” Archie interjected thankfully before Ruby could continue her shameless flirting.

“Emma, why don’t you share something today.”

Emma sighed deeply. “I uh, not sure where I’m supposed to start.”

“Let’s talk about how old you were when you first started drinking.”

“I probably started when I was 14. I went to a party with a Neal.”

“And Neal is your boyfriend, correct?

She looked at her hands. “Um, yeah, he’s my boyfriend. We met when I was twelve and he was just always around.”

“Was he upset by your drinking?”

She laughed. “Not at all. Neal actually made me my first drink.”

“Are you and Neal the same age?”

“Nah he’s a couple of years older than me, so he was 16 when we went to our first party together.” She caught Killian’s eye and looked away.

“Emma, would you say that Neal was an enabler for your addictions?”

Emma flinched. “No.”

Her therapist squinted his eyes. “When did the drugs start?”

Her heart was starting to beat a bit harder in her chest. “I would say a couple years later. Maybe 16 or 17?”

“And where did you get them from? Was Neal part of the drugs as well?”

“Um, he had a dealer we would buy from.”

“Bloody hell.” Killian swore under his breath.

“What’s your problem?” She shot back at him and he glared back at her.

“Just seems like a real swell guy giving fucking drugs to a 16-year-old.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s none of your damn business.”

“Apologizes, M’lady.” He bowed his head toward her and she felt the anger building inside her.

“Why are we apologizing at all? Killian has a point.” August interjected and Emma’s head snapped in his direction.

“Aye, he has a point.” Will mimicked.

“I’m the one in rehab, not Neal.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like he had a hand in getting you here. Did he even try and stop you when you started drowning?”

Emma bit her cheek, her knee bouncing in front of her. “Neal tried. He’s a good guy.” She lied. She knew they were right, but that was none of their damn business.

Killian snorted in disgust.

“I think I’m done sharing for today.” Archie nodded and turned toward Killian.

“Killian, why don’t we move to you since you seem eager to talk today.”

Emma smirked when he looked up at her. “Serves you right buddy.”

“Alright.”

Emma noticed how quickly his demeanor changed.

“When did you start drinking?”

“I was in a band.” Emma snorted and then covered her mouth. He peered through slanted eyes in her direction before continuing. “I’m just saying, it was different circumstances. I wasn’t a 14-year-old rich girl who could have anything she wanted.”

“I beg your pardon.” She scowled.

“It’s different, princess. I had nothing. We practiced in a broken-down garage with instruments we got from a pawn shop. My dad wasn’t around much and when he was, he was passed out drunk, my brother practically raised me. And when I wasn’t with Liam, Rob and I spent a lot of time writing songs and drinking.”

“Hypocrite.” She mumbled.

“Besides,” He said loudly. “We were just kids messing around. I didn’t start abusing alcohol until much later.”

“What do you think brought that on?”

Emma studied his face. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so invested in his story or why she cared at all.

“I guess it was probably all the pressure I was under to perform. The band was touring and as soon as the tour ended, I was expected to start filming a movie, I had just gotten engaged, and everything seemed to be spinning out of control.”

Engaged? Now that’s something she didn’t expect.

“Most of the time all that pressure comes from within, man.” Jefferson laid a hand on Killian’s shoulder.

“I guess, I mean the money I brought in was more money than my family had ever seen. At first it felt good to be able to provide but after a while, everything I did became about making sure that money kept coming in instead of just doing what I loved.”

Emma studied his face, looking for any sign of deception as he spoke, she found none.

The room got quiet and Archie finally spoke. “Ok you guys did great today. Let’s pause here and congratulate Emma and Killian on completing one week of rehab. Great job.”

Everyone clapped but Emma could only sigh. She’d only managed to get through one week. She didn’t feel like she had gotten anywhere, instead it was like she was frozen in place.

The group stood and broke off into smaller discussions. Will and Jefferson talking about the next visit to the gym and Killian and Ruby whispering in the corner, probably making plans for another roll in the sand, she thought.

She slipped out the back door while no one was paying attention and went in search of her refuge. It wasn’t until her feet climbed the hill under the pier that she let out a large breath. She sat down on the sandy embankment, watching the waves coming in and out with the tide.

“Permission to enter?”

She saw him standing at the edge of the pier, rays of sunshine brushing his hair. “Does my answer matter?”

“Of course, it does, Swan.”

She groaned. “What do you want?”

“I came to apologize.” He stood at the bottom of the embankment. “For earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Which time.” She spat and then looked back at him; disappointment plastered across his face. “Sorry, habit. It’s fine. Seriously.”

He tentatively climbed the hill and sat down beside her. “I did not mean to make disparaging remarks about your boyfriend, Neal correct?”

She didn’t want to talk about Neal. She just shrugged and stared at the water. They sat in silence for a what felt like hours. It was comfortable, yet she couldn’t explain why.

“I started doing drugs when I met Milah.” He spoke softly.

“Is that your fiancé?”

He nodded sadly. “Aye.” He looked over at her and she noticed immediately that the bravado was gone.

“Is she coming for family day?”

He looked toward the ocean and released a deep sigh. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Can I tell you something?” Their eyes met and she nodded silently. “It was a car accident.” Her brow furrowed, not understanding him. “I had been drinking.” He paused, swallowing hard as if he was admitting something that was more for his benefit and not hers. “A lot. Milah and I got into a fight the night of my movie premier. I was angry and she was yelling at me. The road was wet, and I lost control of the wheel. I didn’t even see the truck.”

Emma swallowed. Oh my God. What was he saying? Her mouth was dry, and she didn’t understand why he was choosing to share this information with her.

“That’s how you lost your hand?” She finally spoke, hardly at a whisper.

He nodded sadly. “That was only part of my punishment. I lost everything I loved that night.”

Emma came to a slow realization for what the implication of his statement meant. Milah couldn’t come visit him for family day because she was no longer here.

“Killian I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, that’s my burden not yours.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know.” He whispered. “You called me out for lying previously. No one else even batted an eye.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me.”

“Well now I’m not. And now you can admit the truth.”

She stared at him confused. “The truth about what?”

“Neal. It seems to me that he’s been there throughout your entire beginnings and yet here you are, alone. Where was he?”

“I fail to see how that is any of your business, but if you have to know, he’s waiting for me at home. He’s always been supportive of my recovery.”

“I see, so no one can lie to you, but you can lie to yourself. Seems quite cowardly.”

“I beg your pardon. Do you think because you chose to share something with me that suddenly that makes us…” She glared at him. “What? Friends?”

He stood and started to walk down the hill. She jumped up and chased him through the sand. “Did you think pretending to open up to me, telling me your secret was going to get you in my pants. Was Ruby not enough for you?”

He turned on her. “First off, Ruby is a much better friend than you are even capable of, but you can be sure, love, I have no intention of getting anywhere near your pants.”

“Good, because I have no interest in you.” She glared with her arms crossed.

“Nor I you.” He yelled.

They stared intently at each other, time standing still, fire burning in his blue eyes. He put his hands in the air and turned. “Forget it, Swan, I’ll leave.”

“Just stay the hell away from me.”

“As you wish.” He bowed, turning back toward the center, and jogging away.

She wanted to scream but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she fell back into the sand and cried. He seemed so sincere just five minutes earlier. It infuriated her that he could so easily get under her skin. She didn’t want to admit that he had seen through her, that he was right about Neal without even knowing the full story. She hated him for being right about anything, but she hated him more for being right about her. She was a coward.

Why was he trying to connect with her anyway? He was already having sex with Ruby.

It had never occurred to her that maybe he was just reaching out for someone to share his experience with. Besides, he did come to her in private, he wasn’t like August, going after her in front of everyone else. And how did she repay that? She yelled at him. Accused him of divulging something so personal with her in exchange for sex. It angered her that she may be in the wrong.

After all, she was the one who had kissed him. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in her at all. He had never made any attempts to kiss her since that day. And now she was pretty sure he hated her. As Emma walked back to the center that evening, she realized that even in rehab she was a complete and utter screwup.

[drakeandkatherine]

The Royal Romance AU Fan Fiction- Drake x MC Trouble: Chapter 2  I Dare You

Finally! Chapter 2 is here! Catch up with chapter one here! (also made a couple small dialogue changes so feel free to read it again! also...cause its been months since i posted the first chapter I feel like a refresh might be needed)

Trouble will be completely different from my previous fic, Trouble Is.

As always, Drake, Hana, Liam, Maxwell, Olivia, Madeline, and any other characters from The Royal Romance belong to Pixelberry. My MC Katherine Delacroix is all mine and i love this bean.

Description: A game of truth or dare with a twist await Katherine and friends. What could go wrong? 

In this AU the TRR gang are in college and royal life never existed for them! As I write these characters, I am trying to think of how they would be and how they would act and talk, if they never had courtly manners and rules to follow. I want to keep them similar to TRR canon, but not so much that it isn't realistic with how they are without a royal life in Cordornia. So please bare with me!

Warnings: drinking/alcohol use, language, drug mentions, death mentions

Tags: @drakewalker04​ @burnsoslow​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @princessleac1​

“Alright! I think we have enough players. Let’s get this game started!” Maxwell smiled and looked around the small circle that had formed around the fire pit.

“What are the rules this time, Maxwell?” A blonde sitting across from Katherine asked. ‘He looks like a prince.’ Katherine thought. 

“Ah, good question, Liam. The rules tonight will be...” Maxwell took a minute to think. “Aha! If you pass a dare, you have to take a shot. Truths are free game, but you can’t pass a dare without taking a shot!” Everyone nodded. Just then, a platinum blonde came stumbling to the circle, sitting on Liam’s lap. 

“Are we really playing this stupid game again?” She asked, taking a swig of the bottle she held in her hand. Liam sighed, looking visibly annoyed. 

“You know, Madeline, if you don’t want to play, you can go back inside.” He said, clearly not enjoying the drunk girl sitting on his lap. Katherine couldn’t help  but stare. This girl, Madeline, was clearly wasted. Madeline noticed Katherine’s eyes on her. 

“What are you staring at?”Madeline’s eyes narrowed.  Katherine shook her head. 

“Just admiring how pretty you are.” Katherine lied. She didn’t say anything more. Drake leaned over and whispered in Katherine’s ear.

“That’s Madeline. Liam is her ex boyfriend, the one who’s lap she's sitting on. Liam is also my best friend, so I truly have a distaste for that bitch.” Katherine nodded, understanding. “They had a bad break-up, but every time Madeline gets like this she believes they’re still together.” Nodding, she turned her attention back to Maxwell.

“Okay, time to start! Hmm, I think I’ll choose the newbie first. What’s your name?” Maxwell looked to Katherine.

“Me? I’m Katherine.”

“Alright then, Katherine, truth or dare?” Maxwell smiled.

“I guess I’ll start off strong. Dare.” She noticed as some of the others in the circle smiled and snickered, possibly thinking she was a fool for picking dare on the first turn. 

“Oh, hell yeah! Starting the game off right! Okay, I dare you to stand on one leg until you’re chosen again.” Katherine groaned. 

“I’d rather take a shot, thank you.” She grabbed one of the bottles nearby and poured a shot. She tossed it bag, ignoring the urge to gag. ‘Ugh, vodka is not my thing.’

It was her turn to choose next, so she chose Madeline. “Madeline, truth or dare.” Katherine smirked.

“Ugh, if I have too. Truth.” She slurred.

“Why are you acting like a clingy, pathetic puppy towards Liam when he is clearly annoyed with you?” The group went silent. No one had ever stood up to Madeline before, much less insulted her. Katherine hated these kinds of girls, but never had the confidence to do anything about it. ‘Again with this weird confidence. Who am I?’

“Why you..” Madeline started to get up from Liam’s lap. “How dare you speak to me like that?”

“Speak to you like what? Like a normal, sane person asking why you’re being the exact opposite? Get a clue, dude. Stop acting like you’re still together with him, he clearly wants nothing to do with you. Anyone here can see it.” Madeline was seething now. She started taking steps towards Katherine, stumbling. Partygoers had begun to pull their phones out, recording what was happening.

“You’re going to regret th- ow!” Madeline tripped and fell onto the grass, the bottle in her hand dropping and spilling all over Hana.

“Oh my god!” Hana jumped up from where she was sitting, now soaked in the vodka Madeline had spilled. Some who saw what happened started to laugh. Some looked like they felt sympathy for Madeline. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Liam sighed as he went over and helped her up. “I’m sorry about all of this, excuse us.” He left with Madeline, nearly having to carry her into the house. 

“That. Was. Awesome!” Maxwell exclaimed, turning excitedly to Katherine. “I haven’t seen anyone put her in her place like that since Olivia did, almost a year ago.” 

“Did someone say my name?” A red-headed girl walked over. “That was impressive, I’m Olivia.” Olivia held out her hand. Katherine shook it and smiled. 

“Thanks. I despise people like that, so I just said what everyone was thinking.” She shrugged. 

“Well, you’re good in my book. I hate that soul sucking succubus.” Olivia laughed. Hana walked over to the little group and grabbed Katherine’s hand. 

“Hey, I am soaking wet, mind coming inside with me while I dry off?” Katherine nodded. 

“Sorry guys, gotta go for now. I’ll see y’all later!” Katherine followed Hana indoors and stood outside the bathroom as Hana grabbed a towel to dry off the vodka.  After a few minutes of waiting and growing impatient, Katherine wandered down the hall. She noticed a door was open and took a peek inside. Drake was sitting on the bed in the room, filling up a glass pipe with what looked like marijuana.

“You gonna share?” Katherine asked, stepping into the room and spooking Drake in the process, nearly making him drop the pipe.

“Jesus, knock next time would you?” Drake scolded. Katherine took a seat next to Drake and laughed.

“I could, but that wouldn’t be any fun.” 

“Whatever. I guess I could share a couple hits of this with you.” Drake said before lighting the bowl and taking a long drag. As he exhaled, he passed it to Katherine. “You smoke?”

“Occasionally. Not as often as I used to.” She said before taking her own long drag from the bowl. “Whenever I snuck out and went to my friends house we would always smoke a bowl.” Her fingers brushed his as she handed it back to him, a jolt of electricity running through her from the touch. ‘I wonder if he felt that too.’

“Heh. I only smoke every once in a while. Just to calm my nerves or irritation from all the dumbasses who come here.” He put the bowl on the side table next to the bed. “Sneaking out? Guess you must have had some strict parents.”

“My grandma was pretty strict.”

“What about your mom and dad?”

“Dead.” Katherine said deadpan. Drake cursed himself. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something.” He apologized, but Katherine shrugged.

“It’s okay, they died when I was 6.” Katherine forced a smile. “I barely remember them.”

“What happened?” Drake scooted a little closer to her on the bed, hands nearly touching.

“Some bad shit. Like, really bad.” Katherine took a breath. “When I was six, we were visiting my grandma and they had gone out in the middle of the night. They were heavy drug users, I’m talking about heroin, meth, pills. The whole works.” Drake put a comforting hand over her own, nodding and listening.

“Well, I found out what happened when I was older. I found out about how they were users. That night they left, the night they died, was because of a drug deal gone wrong. My mom waited in the car while my dad went in to the house they were at to buy more heroin. He never came back out. Apparently he started a fight with them about the cost and the quantity or something and it got so bad that they just shot him dead. They found my mom, high off of her ass in the car. She had no idea what just happened, and she didn’t even notice when they walked up to the car window. They shot her through the window and fled the scene.” Katherine’s eyes filled with tears. She wasn’t quite sure why she was telling the whole story to a man she just met, but something about him made her trust him. Something about him simply screamed to her that he was safe. 

Drake squeezed her hand and pulled her into a hug. He held her as she sobbed quietly. 

“I’m sorry, that got really dark and now I’m getting make up on your shirt and I must look like a mess.” Katherine said, wiping the tears from her eyes and sitting up right. Drake gave her a small smile. 

“It’s alright, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry that happened to your parents. And to you. No one should have to go through that.” Katherine managed a small smile, thankful for his understanding.

“Thank you, Drake.” A moment of silence passed between them, before she spoke again. “What about you? If we’re sharing our life stories, might as well get it out.” Drake looked at her for a long moment before sighing.

“Well, my mom lives in Texas. It’s where I grew up and met Liam. My dad was in the military and died overseas. My sister goes to a college in Texas, she didn’t want to leave. I felt like I had to the moment I could or else I was going to go insane and be trapped there forever.” Katherine knew exactly what he meant.

“So, how did you end up here? How did you meet Liam?” Katherine asked, lightening up the conversation.

“Liam lived in Texas for a few years when we were kids. We went to the same school and became best friends pretty quickly. He ended up moving here, due to his dad getting a job as this colleges dean. After my dad died, I knew I had to get out of Texas. I’d see Liam on breaks from school occasionally, and one time he mentioned that I should try to get into Applewood. So, that’s what I did. I played sports and kept my grades up in school to make sure I’d get accepted. I’m here on a scholarship, believe it or not.” 

“I can believe it.” Katherine said, smiling. “That’s why I’m able to be here.” She looked at him, feeling the magnetic pull becoming stronger from their conversation. Drake felt it as well, now inches away from her lips, until they heard a loud round of cheering coming from downstairs. Startled and flustered, Katherine stood up from the bed. “We should get back to the party.” Drake nodded, standing up as well. 

Upon returning to the party, they made their way to the kitchen where none other than Hana was lying on the kitchen isle, with her shirt pulled up. Three shots were lined on her stomach, along with salt and lime wedges. 

“Hana, what are you doing?” Katherine asked, walking up to the isle. 

“Body shots! This is so much fun!” Hana laughed. After a random partygoer took the shots and licked the salt off of Hana’s stomach, she stood up and nearly fell to the floor. 

“Whoa, we should get you back to our dorm. You’re definitely drunk.” Katherine said as she caught Hana before she could fall to the floor.

“You’re probably, hiccup, right.” Hana giggled. Katherine looked at Drake. “I’m sorry, but I have to go get this one to bed before she throws up.” 

“It’s all good. Make sure you guys get back safe. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon. Good night, Katherine.” Drake smiled, before turning away and walking back up the stairs to his room. ‘Dumbass. Why didn’t you offer to walk with her?’

----------------------------------------

“Alright, Hana. Here you go.” Katherine laid her down onto the bed, even going as far as taking off her shoes. Within an instant, Hana was quietly snoring away. Katherine quickly changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed, mind reeling from the events of the night, and thoughts of Drake. Before long, her body gave out and she fell into a heavy sleep.

[pacoc-a]

Time in waiting [wip]

Rating: G

Pairing: Five\Vanya

tags; bed sharing, fluff, childhood crush, missed chances, angst

Vanya and Five and their years apart.

Vanya had never been one for fighting so it’s odd that she’s the one with the bruise on her forehead now.

It really started with Luther and Diego.

They were fighting, again, and all she wanted was for them to just stop before they hurt themselves so she moves between them and then she’s not really sure where the punch came from but the next moment she’s on her back and there’s the blood trickling between her eyelashes, shiny and sticky and wet.

Luther at least, had the decency to look ashamed.

Five comes sometime after Pogo has chased them off. She remembers the tick on his jaw, and the stern way he took the bandages off her hands and held her still beside him. Vanya almost felt the need to apologise.

The bruise did look bad. It’s purple and blotchy and it stings.

She wants to cry.

It doesn’t quite register.

Her pills do this, makes everything lag a minute behind so that she's left with the afterthought of a feeling instead of the real thing.

It's a little like seeing the world through a wall of cotton.

It’s for anxiety, she tells herself. She’s been numbed by the pills for so long, the thought of stopping and letting the cloud in her head clear is terrifying. It’s good for her. She’s honestly not sure what that means but Dad says it’s important and that counts for something at least,

She rubs the corner of her eye and it forces a tear out of her.

‘You okay?’ He frowns.

‘Yeah. It just hurts that's all.’

‘Consider it a lesson learned. Getting between those two knuckleheads automatically makes you an even worse version of stupid. Those two are morons and can’t help themselves. You should know better.’ But he puts the bandage on a little carefully this time.

Maybe she’s just a creature of habit. Vanya has been living with only half a feeling all her life and she’s just fine. No problems here. If given the choice, she’d go back to the pills every time.

It’s hard to miss what you can't remember.

Five finishes fixing her up.

‘Well, good news.’ He sits back, ‘You’ll live. You might have a bump on your head for a couple of days but I don’t see how that’s anyone’s fault but yours.’

‘Gee… thanks Five.’

He can be a real jerk sometimes.

Five grins. He brushes the hair out of her eyes. He probably already knows she’d do it again.

The Hargreeves are stupid like that.

There’s a comfortable silence that settles between them. It’s a different sort from the stifling air when she slots herself between the rest of her siblings like a mismatched jigsaw puzzle, awkwardly positioned in all the ways that lets her know she doesn’t belong. Theirs is the kind that is warm and soft, wrapping around their shoulders like a fuzzy blanket.

It’s nice.

He rubs the strands of her hair between his fingers. ‘Your hair’s getting long’, he says.

‘Yeah, I was gonna ask Mom to cut it but maybe not, you know, now that I’ve got this big bump on my head.’

‘Knucklehead.’ He grins. She laughs, calls him weird and swats him away.

Something in her gut stirs. Something sweet like honey, and Vanya isn’t old enough to put a name to it yet so she tells herself that it’s probably the bruise making her head swim like this and leaves it alone.

—

Five has always been a little different from the rest of her siblings. He’s always stood out in the spaces where Vanya has blended in.

Maybe it’s just a part of who he is. Number Five is too brilliant to simply waste his days blending and hiding. He’s brash and arrogant and he’s not the least bit sorry for it.

She’s a little in awe of him.

It’s not just because she’s shy. Reginald has always made it a point to keep her out of the spotlight with her family. She’s not allowed in the common room when the team is meeting. She doesn’t understand their jokes at the dinner table because how could she? When the press comes to gather at the entrance of the mansion, she’s at the other end studying geography. When she finally hits those runs she’s been hacking away for weeks, the others are on the other side of the planet saving the world.

Sometimes, she wonders if she’d have half the confidence if she’d been the least bit special.

It’s a desperate thing to want.

Five never seems to mind though.

He jumps to her side because he wants to, even though he’s all bloody and Mom is right there. He eats the crusts off her sandwiches because she asks.

He dabs the blood off her forehead because she’s hurt.

Five is brash and arrogant but he’s also kind.

Late at night, she creeps past the dark, dimly lit hallways of the Academy and slips his favourite sandwich under his door. The foil is loud when it crumples under the doorway and for a moment she goes still, afraid that someone would come and find her. There’s no one though, and eventually, she makes her way safely back inside her room.

Tomorrow, she can thank him properly. For now, she’s hoping he’d enjoy an early breakfast and the extra marshmallow she added on his sandwich.

—

She goes to his room one afternoon with a tray of food.

Five is jumping from one end of the room to the other, muttering shit shit shit under his breath as he shuffles through his notes with a frantic energy that could rival a lightning bolt. He's almost certainly not in a good mood. He doesn't stop working, not even after Vanya knocks on the door and lets herself in.

'What's up?' Vanya asks.

'Problem solving.'

She takes in the piles of notebooks stacked on his desk and the tiny pieces of paper sprawled across his bedroom floor like confetti.

'Looks like a hurricane went through here.' She picks up a piece of paper on the ground.

'Don't touch anything!' He snaps.

She stops, then places it down. Five huffs and goes back to his notes.

'Can I help? I can sort out your notes if you want.'

'It's fine. I'm just stuck. These numbers aren't working out.'

'Well why not?'

‘Because..' his voice is dripping with frustration, ‘it just isn't. These two things don’t fit. I can’t make it.'

'I thought I could use my old formula to back it up in case the numbers go wrong but it looks like I'll have to go back to square one.' He laughs mirthlessly, 'Shit, I should have gone over this before. I should have…'

‘Didn't you tell me your old formula could be unreliable? Why not just use the numbers you did before, the one you did on my book?'

He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, stops, then shuffles away to thumb over the rest of his notes.

He gets like this with his work, forgets to eat or take care of himself. It’s an obsession. His nose is stuck on numbers the moment he’s out of training and everything else is secondary.

Honestly, it’s worrying.

She hopes he knows that there's people here who cares about him.

‘I brought you lunch, by the way. Mom said she came by to get you food but you sent her away so I thought I’d come over.’

He doesn’t even turn to look at her. ‘If I didn’t want food then, what makes you think I’d want food now. I’m busy unravelling time and space itself, I’d rather not be disturbed.’

‘When’s the last time you ate?'’

‘What does it matter.’

There’s a couple of minutes of silence where Vanya just doesn’t know what to do. The room is filled with the sound of Five’s pencil scribbling away at his notes and it’s making her painfully aware of the fact that she is very much unwanted here, standing on his space, taking up his time. He's always been stubborn, and Five in this mood is almost impossible to talk to.

She looks down at the tray. The food is getting cold.

‘I’ll leave this here then.’ She places it on the empty space on his desk, ‘It’s soup. I snuck in some bread for you too if you want some.'

It's probably best to leave.

‘Wait.’

Vanya is halfway out the door when Five finally calls out to her. She stops and turns back. From here, she can see him gritting his jaw the way he does when he's frustrated and he doesn't know how to say it.

'Stay. I'll eat. '

She smiles, 'Okay.'

He takes the tray and puts the bowl on his lap. He still wants to work though, so he holds the spoon over his mouth with one hand, nearly dribbling it all over himself while he's halfway through turning a page on the other. He looks so silly like this, with his arm bent and his bowl wobbling precariously on his hip. She laughs, 'Here. Let me.'

Vanya takes the spoon from his hand and he mutters a 'thanks' absentmindedly as he turns a page and opens his mouth for her at the same time.

They're close.

His focus is everywhere, charted across the steady lines of his skin like a diagram. She watches the hard shape of his brow, the stern crease on his forehead, and the way his eyes flicker back and forth across the page like a pendulum and even under the pills she feels an irrepressible sort of fondness for him. Her smart, stubborn Number Five.

She blows on another serving of soup and feeds it to him. Some of it sticks to the corner of his mouth but he doesn't seem to notice.

'You've got a little…' She reaches over and wipes it off with her sleeve.

His gaze flickers towards her for a split second and she misses the way his throat bobs, stuck on something thicker than soup, as she raises another serving for him.

—

The silence in her room is thick like black ink and there's nights when Vanya is sure it's presence is a living, breathing thing. She could feel it plugging up her lungs with its weight, feel her throat constricting like a snake, wringing the life out of her and Vanya gasps, can't even breath in here.

It's why she's grateful for those quiet evenings when the space inside her room warps to Five's footsteps, when his presence appears out of thin air like a dream. And when the bed finally sinks under his weight, it's like the night is a little kinder to her, a little warmer too.

'Klaus snuck off at Griddy's by himself again.' Five shuffles underneath the covers and Vanya shifts to make room for him. He moves until she is sandwiched between the warm pressure of his arm and the cold surface of the wall beside her.

'Can't imagine it was for the donuts though. He's got that look again. Bloodshot eyes. Sweats like he's run a marathon. Snuck back 'round the window in the back and nobody said a word.'

'I can't believe Dad didn't find out.' Vanya says.

'Yeah well, the old man never did give two shits about us as long as we do what he wants. Can't imagine why he'd start now.'

The silence is tense.

Vanya rolls to her side. Five is staring at the ceiling. She could feel herself drifting to sleep, listening to the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. Her next words are soft. 'Where would you go? If you did time travel I mean, where'd you wanna end up?'

'I will time travel.' He scoffs, 'Besides, the past, the future, what does it matter. Anywhere is better than this shitshow of a house.'

Vanya watches him. She memorises the sharp outline of his nose in the dark, and the way he works his jaw, anger and bitterness molded to the tense shape of his mandible.

'I'll miss you.' Vanya says.

'No you won't. You'd be too busy making a life for yourself away from this place to even remember me.'

'I won't forget.' She says earnestly. 'I'll miss you every day.'

He doesn't look at her.

She can't quite make out the look on his face when it's dark like this but Vanya wants to think that he believes her.

She, at least, wouldn't want to live in a world where there's no Five.

She thinks Five has fallen asleep. She's surprised when his fingers searches for her in the dark. They wrap around the spaces in between, and he holds her tight, like something to keep.

They stay like that, fingers entwined on her tiny twin bed, like two captives floating across a dark sea.

—

The day comes at the dinner table and it starts with a knife on the table and a question.

Five, for all his genius and ambition, is still just a child. He demands attention like it too because he's ready goddammit and he throws a fit, trembling down to his fingertips, right there in the middle of the family dining room.

Reginald would never give it to him. And maybe it's really Vanya, shaking her head firmly 'No' that hardens his resolve, she would never be sure, but it is then that Five turns on his heel and makes a decision.

She remembers the sound of his footsteps as he flings the big, wide doors of the Academy and rushes out into the world beyond.

She remembers her two, stubborn feet planted firmly on the wooden floor as he leaves.

He doesn’t come back.

—

Vanya waits for him for a long time

Her Saturdays are quieter without him. There’s a spot in the lounge where she likes to practice and sometimes she imagines Five sitting on the couch beside her, poring over his books or going over his equations with his Einstein sort of manic, frantic energy until she’s worried he’ll wear down his pencil to dust.

She imagines him perched on her desk while she tells him about Klaus and Diego and the ants, his legs dangling slightly above the floor and that playful gleam in his eye as he proceeds to tell her what they're going to do about it.

It's odd how a person can be everywhere and nowhere at once.

Every morning she wakes up to a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich sitting in the middle of the hallway, cold and untouched. And every night she gets up and makes him another one.

WIP

[non-binary-nightmare]

Pills: Chapter 9

One more chapter left!

Chpt 1 Chpt 2 Chpt 3 Chpt 4 Chpt 5 Chpt 6 Chpt 7 Chpt 8 Chpt 10

Warnings: This chapter might make you cry.. And I don’t want to spoil it so warnings in the tags

Again... really sorry.. I’m so evil..

----

Patton ran after Deceit, knife in hand. Deceit managed to get in his room and lock himself in. “Let!...Me!...In!...” Patton banged his shoulder on the door, trying to break the door down.

Deceit looked around, trying to find a place to hide. “Deceit! You little bitch! OPEN THIS DOOR!” Patton yelled. Deceit hid under his bed. Patton continued trying to break the door and he managed to break the hinges.

“Oh so you tried to hide huh?!” Patton yelled. Deceit covered his mouth to keep from making any noise.

Patton slammed open Deceit’s closet door. “Where the hell are you?!” Patton said, searching the closet. “Come out, come out, wherever you are….” Patton said walking around the room, and looking in the bathroom. Patton walked out of the bathroom and stopped. He stared at the bed and smiled. “I guess, since you won’t come out on your own..” Patton said as he walked over to the bed. “I’LL JUST HAVE TO MAKE YOU!” Patton said as he bent down and grabbed Deceit out from under his bed. 

Patton struggled with Deceit and got on top of him. “Patton please! Don’t do this!” Deceit pleaded, trying to get Patton off of him. “We can figure things out! You don’t have to do this!”

“That’s where you’re wrong...” Patton said as he lifted the knife above his head. “I do.” Patton said as he brought the knife down and into Deceit’s chest, directly through his heart.

Patton smiled as he saw the life leave Deceit’s eyes. Patton slowly pulled the knife out of Deceit’s chest. “Dee..” Patton looked up and saw Logan standing in the doorway. Patton’s eyes grew as he stood up. “Logan- Logan it���s not-”

“Don’t tell me it’s not what it looks like, Patton! It’s exactly what it looks like!” Logan yelled, tears streaming down his face.

Patton sighed. “You’re right, Lo. But if you’d just let me explain!” Patton said, walking closer to Logan. “Explain?! You just killed someone I loved!” Logan said, backing away from Patton.

Patton grabbed Logan’s arm and pulled him into the room. “Look at me! I did this for YOU.” Patton said as he forced Logan to look at him. “He didn’t love you. He lies. He wanted to tear my family apart.” Patton said, looking at Deceit then back at Logan. “He was a threat.” Patton said as he let go of Logan. “A threat? Deceit did nothing to any of us! Maybe a few snarky remarks here and there, but so has Virgil. You gonna kill Virgil next? Huh? Or maybe even Remus because Lord knows you hate him too! Maybe you’ll even-”

“Shut up! I have a plan for everyone here. Even you!” Patton said, pointing the knife at Logan. “Patton, you can’t fix everyone. Nobody is perfect. Not even y-”

“Don’t you dare say it! I AM perfect. And I will make sure that nobody in my family messes up AGAIN!”

“Again?” Logan asked. “It was all fine until Romulus started doing weird things. He kept getting grosser and grosser. He used to be so innocent. He called me dad, he was so sweet to me. But as Thomas got older, he seemed to become…. Such a bad person.”

“Patton what are you talking about? Romulus is gone.”

“I had to do it Logan.  I had to seperate the good from the bad. He was contaminating Thomas’ mind.” Patton said, tears in his eyes, and voice getting raspy. “But it wasn’t my fault Logan! It wasn’t! I promise! I had to! He was ruining Thomas’ mind with all these thoughts! I had to make sure that Thomas knew they were bad. And I even tried to change Remus! To make him a better person!”

“You can’t change everyone, Patton. You have to remember that. But this doesn’t change the fact that you killed Deceit.”

“I-I know.. Logan will you ever forgive me?” Patton asked. Logan thought for a second. “Only-only if you promise to tell the others, comply with what we decide on, and give me the knife.” Logan said as he outstretched his hand. “No! They can’t know! They won’t believe me when I tell them that it’s not my fault!!”

“Patton, listen.”

“No! You listen to me! The others don’t have to know anything! We can run away to the imagination. And at this rate, if Thomas has one more anxiety attack, and takes another pill, then Virgil will stay a toddler. I can force another one on him! We can run away and take care of him together! Just you, me, and-”

“Patton! You can’t run away from your problems! What kind of person does that? I’ll tell you: a bad person.” Logan said. “I-I I’m not a bad person!” Patton yelled. “I know. That’s why you need to tell the others what you’ve done.”

“You have to tell them that it wasn’t my fault! That I was just protecting everyone!”

“I promise, I’ll tell them. Now give me the knife.” Logan demanded in a fake soft tone. Logan walked slowly towards Patton. “I- Okay.” Patton said, handing Logan the knife. “Thank you.” Logan said. Patton started crying. Logan pulled Patton into a hug. “It’ll be okay, Patton.”

 “I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Logan said as he pushed the knife into Patton’s stomach. “Wha-” Patton said as Logan pulled the knife out and pushed him onto the ground. “How could you expect me to forgive you….after you killed Deceit!?” Logan said as he climbed on top of Patton. “No- please… don’t-”

“Do this? Was that what Deceit said as you stabbed directly into his heart? Huh? WAS IT!?” Logan yelled as he thrusted the knife directly into Patton’s heart. Logan placed his hands and head on the top of the knife. He took a deep breath and sat up. Logan got off of Patton and slowly, Patton’s influence on the imagination faded, leaving a white background, with two bodies on the ground.

Logan made the ground into grass and made it so Deceit was laying on a blanket.

“Logan!” Logan looked over at the voice. The owner of which was Roman.

“Remus I found them!”

Roman ran up to Logan and hugged him. Logan hugged back. “Are you okay?” Roman asked. “I believe so.” Logan said as he stared blankly with cold, emotionless, eyes.

“What happened to Deceit!?” Remus yelled, voice cracking. Roman let go of Logan and the reality of the situation set in. He gasped. Remus ran over to Deceit. “Patton- uhh.. Killed him. I’m sorry.” Logan said, his own voice cracking.

Remus held Deceit in his hands and began sobbing. “Dad! No- please.. This can’t-” Roman placed a comforting hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Rem..”

“NOOO!” Remus screamed as he stood up and ran over to Patton’s body. “YOU DID THIS TO HIM YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” He began kicking Patton’s body.

Roman ran over to him and pulled him off. “Remus he’s already dead!” Roman yelled. “HE FUCKING KILLED MY DAD! THAT BITCH! LET ME GO!” Remus yelled, struggling to get out of Roman’s grasp.

Roman forced Remus to look at him. “Snap out of it!”

Remus immediately began crying into Roman’s arms. “This can’t be happening! Oh no! Please God NO!” Roman quickly wrapped his arms around Remus and began comforting him.

“It’s okay. Come on, let’s get out of here.” Roman said, leading Remus away. “Logan?” Roman looked at Logan. A tear fell down Logan’s cheek. “Oh Logan it’ll be okay..” Roman comforted. “It’s just that- I never got to tell him…. how I really felt..” Logan said, starting to cry even more. “He died thinking I never even liked him..”

“Logan, you can’t change that. You can’t go back. I know it’ll be hard moving on. I’m sure you are going to blame yourself. But for right now, we need to just get out of here. Okay?”

“I-I know.. I just-” Logan sighed and wiped his tears. “I’m just tired. Is-is Virgil okay?”

“Yeah, he grew back up and was still really sick so I put him to bed. He’s out cold.” Roman said. “Okay..”

“I’m tired.” Remus said with a yawn. “How about I get the two of you in bed, check on Virgil, then go to bed myself? Then, we can talk to Thomas about all of this when we wake up. M’kay?” Roman said. Remus and Logan both nodded.

“Let’s go home.” Remus said. 

----

AGAIN.. REALLY HECKING SORRY

Taglist:

@misunderstoodshadowling @no-no-no-no-6 @grayson-22 @sanderssidesstuffs001 @nope-not-more @magimerlyn @fellinfire @chihuahuafaceappreciationblog @basiic-emo @crei-crei

[goldenavenger02]

Peter Parker's Day Off

This story is for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange and my giftee is @avengersincamphalfbloodstardis so I hope you like it!

Before anyone draws comparisons between this and the fic @marvelous-writer posted a few weeks ago, we've already gotten it worked out, so go read her fic after mine!

Editing and cover credits go to @clover-roseee!

And now, on with the story!

Peter groaned as he woke up, and tried to force himself awake as Morgan jumped the end of his bed again. "I'm up, Morg, I'm up," he replied as rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to sit up. His body and head felt heavy, and he had that general sick feeling, so despite how much Morgan's excitement tended to rub off on him, it didn't this time. In fact, Peter wasn't even sure how he could be excited when his chest was tight and his nose was so stuffed up.

Morgan didn't seem to pick up on how he was feeling, though. "Come on, Petey!" she instead insisted, before hopping off his bed and running out of his room. "Daddy's making blueberry pancakes before we go to the zoo!"

The trip to the zoo had been planned for weeks, and Pepper had even taken a day off to come with (which was a rarity in itself). May had gotten held up at the hospital, too, so it was perfect timing that he stayed with the Starks for the first week of spring break; but while he really wanted to see Morgan lose her mind over lions, tigers, and birds, he still couldn't shake the sick feeling from his body.

"Come on, Petey! Daddy's making blueberry pancakes before we go to the zoo!" She insisted before running out of his room, singing about the trip.

Grabbing his bathrobe off of his closet door, Peter wrapped it around his shoulders and tried to regain some body heat before shuffling down the stairs. The smell of pancakes hit him as he went into the hall, and he knew immediately that his senses were in overdrive.

When he finally made it to the dining room, Morgan was going over some facts she had learned about lions for a school project and Pepper was looking at the news on her phone, but looked up when she saw Peter sit at the table. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked, upon seeing his pale face, and the thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

Peter started to respond, but instead let out a harsh cough into his elbow. That was enough of a reason for Pepper to get up from the table in search of the thermometer. Meanwhile, Morgan got up from her chair and ran into the kitchen area. "Daddy!" she exclaimed, "Petey's sick!"

Flipping the last few pancakes on to the large serving plate, Tony cleaned his hands with a dry washcloth and turned the stove off. Then, once that was done, he turned his attention to Peter and, with Morgan tagging along behind him, made his way over. "See!" Morgan repeated. "He's sick!"

"Yeah, I definitely see what you're talking about." Tony ruffled Morgan's hair before placing a hand against Peter's forehead. "And that's definitely a fever." He sighed before looking down at his daughter. "Sorry, Morguna. Looks like the zoo is gonna have to wait for a few days."

"But we have to go, Daddy!" Morgan fought back. "Mommy took the day off and everything!" Just as it looked like that Tony would have to deal with a tantrum at eight thirty in the morning, Pepper came back in the room with the ear thermometer and gently inserted it into Peter's ear. "Mommy, we have to go to the zoo!"

"Morgan's right," Peter agreed, receiving an enthusiastic grin from her. "I mean, you did take the day off to go with her to the zoo…"

Pepper looked skeptical. "I don't know. I don't feel comfortable leaving you here by yourself."

"Then how about Mr. Stark stays with me?" Peter proposed, taking a moment to cough into his elbow. Pepper, in return, placed a hand on his back. "You guys can send us pictures, and it'll feel like we're right there with you."

Pepper looked to her husband. "Tony? Are you okay with this?" she asked, as the thermometer beeped. She took it out and sighed when the reading revealed Peter had a temperature of 101.8. "Staying here with Peter?"

"'Course. I've got the spider kid, you two go have fun," Tony insisted, before leaning forward and kissing his wife's cheek. "Like he said, just send us lots of photos. Maybe let Morgan feed a giraffe while you're there, too."

Pepper broke apart from the kiss, and went over to grab her tote bag with her sunglasses, camera and Morgan's change purse full of nickels and pennies. "Alright, try and have a good day," she said, after slipping her shoes on. "Feel better, Peter."

Morgan ran up and hugged Tony tightly, and did the same to Peter before heading outside to the car, with Pepper following closely behind. When the car pulled out of the driveway, Tony turned to the resident sick kid. "So, how does crashing on the couch and watching some Star Wars sound?"

"Can we watch something else? I'm regretting getting Morgan obsessed with it," Peter spoke as he stood up from the table, trying to force the sudden headache that was building behind his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you want," Tony insisted as Peter shuffled over to the couch and grabbed the remote. "We should probably get you some Tylenol, though."

Peter nodded, starting to scroll through Netflix. Since Morgan preferred Disney+, he knew he would probably find something he wasn't sick of on there. But his vision was going in in and out, and starting to get spotty, and he was fighting every bone in his body in order to stay awake.

Suddenly Tony appeared beside him, and Peter distantly wondered how he did it. "Here," he said, pouring three white tablets into Peter's right hand, and swapping the remote for a bottle of blue Gatorade with the other. "Take that, and go to bed, kid. I'll find something to watch, you look exhausted."

Dropping the pills into his mouth and washing it down with a swig of Gatorade, Peter wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his bathrobe before doing what he was told. Tony's taste in movies was often better than Morgan's or Pepper's anyway, so he let himself relax and, feeling a blanket being draped over him, allowed the music of whatever Tony had picked lull him to sleep.

•••

"So, what do you wanna see first?" Pepper asked her daughter, as the two climbed out of the car doors. They had spent a little over half an hour driving, and Pepper already had the online map on her phone all ready and set-up. Knowing her daughter, though, she'd probably want to see more of the cuddly animals first, before going to see the creepier ones.

"Hmm…" Morgan hummed and tilted her head as she thought. She definitely wanted to go see the lions, but she was also wondering if they had a penguin exhibit, and maybe a snake one, too. "I dont know! Can we go see the dolphins? Please?"

"Sure." Pepper smiled and gently grasped her daughter's hand in hers, before they made their way inside. "And then we'll go feed the giraffe, like your dad wanted to. Sound good?" She verbalized the plan, trying to make it stick in Morgan's head, but, in reality, she was just wanting to spend some much needed time with her daughter. It was always a rarity when she was able to take time off, and she wanted to make the most of it.

Morgan nodded, but the period of silence was broken by her stopping in front of the snake exhibit. "Mommy, look!" she shouted, bouncing on her heels giddily. "Can we look at these first? Please?"

"Of course." Pepper nodded, took her camera out of her bag, and watched as one of the exhibit employees, per Morgan's request, placed a boa constrictor around her shoulders. "Say cheese on three, sweetie!"

•••

When Peter woke up on the couch, he felt like he could barely breathe through his nose, and could feel the intensity of the pressure in his head. Then, sitting up, he glanced around the room, before trying to peer into the kitchen. "Mr. Stark?" he asked, the stuffiness having apparently spread to his voice with how nasally he sounded. "Are you here?"

"In the kitchen!" the stay at home dad called back. Sighing and flopping back on to the couch, Peter re-covered himself with the blanket Tony draped over him, before he heard a "Shit, that's hot!" and the man himself appeared in the doorway. "Okay," he announced, as he walked over to his sick kid, "I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

Peter smirked. "What's the bad news?"

"Bad news," Tony explained, as he set a plate of soggy charcoal-coloured toast on the table, "is that I burnt your toast, and put too much butter on; so, it's kinda ruined now, kid."

Peter chuckled, as he sat up and, despite how terrible the toast looked, took a bite from it. 'At least Tony tried,' he thought. "And the good news?" he asked.

"The good news is that I ordered soup for later—don't look at me like that!—and that I did manage to make sure your Gatorade stayed cold," Tony said, as he set the half-full Gatorade on the coffee table, right beside where the plate previously was. Then, he had taken a seat near the sick teen's feet and patted his knee. "But, it doesn't matter now. How're you feeling, Pete?"

Peter sat up a bit to place the soggy toast beside the Gatorade, and laid back down against his pillows. "My head still hurts," he muttered, trying to warm himself up as he buried himself beneath the blanket, "'nd I've been kinda feeling sick. There's no other medicine I can take, right?"

Tony shook his head. "'Fraid not, kiddo. And, even if there was, I don't wanna give you mixed medications and have to take you to a hospital, so it's not gonna happen."

Peter groaned.

"But, what I can do is let you see all the pictures Pepper sent me of Morgan." Tony smiled as he pulled out his phone, and swiped on over to his 'Messages' section. "There's even one of her holding a boa constrictor, if you wanna see it."

Peter shook his head, remembering his very bad experience with a snake from years ago. "I think I'll pass on that," he said, before sitting up and glancing over Tony's shoulder. "But is there one of her with a penguin? Or a giraffe?"

Tony nodded, as he passed the phone over, and adjusted the two of them, so Peter was leaning against his side, with his head on his chest. "Oh, yeah," he replied. "Third and fifth one in. My personal favourites, though, are the ones with the sloths and otters."

In response, Peter yawned, and, after scrolling through all the photos, gave the phone back to Tony. He was getting exhausted again, and assumed, as he buried his head into his mentor's chest, that Tony had moved on to watching the videos Pepper had sent him, so he shut his eyes and allowed Morgan's excited squeals to lull him back into a peaceful sleep.

•••

"Alright, honey," Pepper said, smiling, as she fished Morgan's change purse out of her tote bag, "you can pick one thing out from the gift shop, and then we're going to head home." She held her daughter's hand as they approached the small gift shop, located back at the entrance. She was thankful she hadn't lost her daughter when they were visiting the exhibits, but if there was one place where she would lose her, then it was definitely the gift shop.

Morgan took her change purse from her mother's hand, and looked up at her, pleadingly. "Can I get something for Petey, too?" she asked with her adorable, wide eyes. "He's sick and we can get something to make him feel better!"

"Nothing fragile," Pepper negotiated, "and nothing made of glass. Otherwise, you can go nuts and get whatever you want. Deal?" She held her hand up for a high five.

"Deal!" Morgan exclaimed excitedly, as she returned the high-five. Unfortunately, Morgan was five, and that meant she was still rather small, so the high-five ended up being one of those off-beat ones, where they missed each other and ended up mostly slapping the air instead. Pepper still smiled, though, and watched as Morgan made a B-line for the stuffed animals.

'That's a good idea,' she thought to herself. 'Peter would probably prefer cuddling one of those instead of a rubber snake, anyway.'

•••

"Daddy, Daddy, we're home!" Morgan announced, a little over forty-five minutes later, before she slipped off her shoes and bright yellow leather rainjacket at the door. Then, she had resumed running into the kitchen, where she wrapped her arms around her dad's legs. "Mommy and I saw penguins, and sloths, I got to hold a snake!"

Setting down the knife he was using to chop up the peppers and celery, Tony had then dried his hands with a washcloth, before turning and giving his full attention to his daughter. "That's great, Morguna," he replied, as he kneeled down to her level and planted a small kiss atop her head. "But you'll have to tell me everything when Peter wakes up, okay? He still doesn't feel so good, and he needs a lot of rest to get better."

"Okay!" Morgan agreed, happily, before she pulled a grey and white ovaloid object out of her little purse. "We got him a penguin!" She exclaimed, enthusiastically bouncing on her heels once more. "Do you think he'll like it? I hope he likes it!"

Tony nodded, as he ran his hand through his daughter's messy brown hair. "I'm sure he'll love it, Morguna."

"Now, go wash your hands, okay?" Pepper said, as she came up behind her daughter and gently nudged her towards the bathroom. In response, Morgan did as she was told, and Pepper took that chance to heave the groceries up on to the counter, and started putting them away. "Morgan insisted we get juice pops for Peter," she explained, as she opened the freezer and stuffed the box of popsicles inside. "How did things go at home today?"

"Pretty good. He's gotten a bit better since you guys left, but he told me he was feeling sick, so we'll have to keep an eye on him tonight."

"Alright." Pepper smiled and put up the last of the groceries before turning to her husband. "I'm gonna sit in there till dinner is ready." She planted a quick kiss against Tony's cheek before sitting in the armchair that was beside the couch Peter was asleep on, and started to go through some files on her laptop. Days off were always a rarity for her, so she wanted to transfer the photos to her phone, so she could look at them while she was at work.

She looked up when she heard a rustling noise, only to see Morgan come in with the stuffed penguin and put it under Peter's right arm before climbing on the couch and curling up next to him. Watching as Peter unconsciously wrapped his left arm around Morgan, Pepper smiled and waited until her daughter's eyes closed to take a picture.

She'd be thanked, later.

[bandsconcertsfood]

Neglect  Winchesters X Sister!Reader

Summary: Ignored by her brothers, Reader is tired of the hunting life, of life in general. She overdoses in her room while her brothers are out on a hunt. Once they return they expect to find dinner ready but all they find is Billy.

Word Count: 1,837

Warning: Suicide, neglect, rape

Third Person POV Y/N was just so tired of everything. She wasn't as courageous as her older brother Dean or as smart as her twin Sam, at least that was what she thought. She was just there. She was always there just in the shadows, always in the motel rooms and sometimes even forgotten in some small town. Now that they've got a bunker she's always inside. She doesn't remember the last time she left the bunker. No one but Castiel and Bobby knew her personally. Others like Kevin and Crowley just knew her as a name, nothing more. Now that it was just the 3 Winchesters living in the Bunker, she felt even more alone. She'd cook them dinner when they'd get back from hunts, they'd occasionally say thanks but for them it was just them and then her. They cared for her of course but they just sometimes forgot of her existence. Or they assumed she didn't want to tag along. They assumed because of the trauma they've lived that she chose to go mute. She didn't, they just didn't bother listening. During Sam's college days she had moved out, nobody noticed of course but once Sam was back on the job Bobby had called her and forced her to be with her brothers again. The angels knew about her, they felt bad, even the ones like Uriel and Zachariah, they all felt so bad they chose to not involve her in the business, they had been protecting her. She always had an angel watching over her. However, now that the angels are dying she's alone again.

Y/N was sitting on her bed reading War and Peace when she decided today was the day, she knew her brothers would be back in a few hours so she had to do it now. She walked over to her drawer and took out the mix of pills she's collected over the past few months. She was so dedicated that she just took them and decided to lay down. She didn't even cry or feel like she'd miss her brothers. Eventually she wakes up and is surprised Billy is there. "Billy?" She asked confused. "You killed yourself? You really are a Winchester" Billy says as she looks around and frowns, sensing something wasn't right. "Can I ask a question?" "I can't promise an answer" "Do you think they could have loved me," Y/N asked, Billy immedietly knew that Y/N was neglected, and not just now but her entire life. "You were always my favorite Winchester, Y/N. Are you sure you want to do this? I can knock some sense into those boys and change everything" She says gently, "let's go" was Y/N's only respond.

Dean's P.O.V Sam and I walked into the Bunker, tired after killing Vampires, expecting the smell of food or at least Y/N's music playing, meaning she was cooking. All we got was an eerie silence once I had shut the door. "Where's the food?" Sam asked as we put our stuff down and then walked to the War room. "What if she went grocery shopping?" I suggested casually but right away we couldn't help but start laughing, our sister was way to antisocial and lazy to even leave the bunker. We decided to check her room, just in case she died or something. Once we entered, we saw Billy, or Death, "boys, did you know Y/N had read the Mortal Instruments series over 5 times the past year alone" Billy asked as she looked through a book. Wow, Y/N had a huge book collection. "What did you do to our sister?" Sam asked, surprisingly worried. "She's happy now." "What did you do to her?" I asked, now getting anxious. "I want you to see her memories," Billy states as she clicks her fingers.

We were in a motel room. Sam and Y/N looked about 7 years old. "What?" Sam asked completely lost. "This is one of her favorite and happiest memories. Quite sad really. Do you know why it's a favorite?" Billy asked as she sat down on the bed. I decided to look around, Y/N was reading The House of Mirth, at a very young age she was already reading big chapter books. 11 year old me had just walked into the motel room, "I brought presents" he said. I smiled, I did always try my best with taking care of them. I look around and noticed there were only 2 dirty plates in the sink, I must have not ate to make sure they had eaten well. I noticed that Y/N frowned. "Here you go Sammy" I said as I handed Sam 3 presents that I had clearly stolen from a random house, "what about her," Sammy asked as he turned to his twin. I looked at now Sam and he frowned, remembering this night. "Oh yeah" young me whispered and started digging through his pockets. "Hey y/n, I brought you this" young Dean said as he threw a semi melted Snickers bar to the small Y/N who smiled widely as she put her book down, "thank you" is all she whispered as she ate happily. I started to tear up. "This was the 1st time Dean had given Y/N a present for Christmas, this was also the first time in 2 weeks she had something other than water" Billy said as she got up. "What kind of sick joke is this" Billy only clicked her fingers again.

The day Bobby had brought Y/N to our motel room. "Boys, keep your sister with you," Bobby said as they walked in, she looked like she had been crying. "This is one of her worst memories, want to guess why?" "Obviously because she was forced back into hunting" Sam said in a very confident tone, knowing Y/N had also wanted to leave the life, and did once Sam left for college. Dad never bothered checking in on her. Y/N had pulled Bobby to the side, this was by the time she had gone mute. "Bobby, I don't want to be with them, please don't make me stay. I was a good hunter with Rufus, I had a good life, don't do this" she begs him, her voice, I had completely forgotten what she sounded like, "Y/N was a good hunter with Rufus but once the Winchester boys were reunited Bobby wanted Y/N to be with you. This is a bad memory not because of hunting but because she knew she'd go back to being forgotten and ignored" Billy said as she walked out of the motel, we followed behind. She clicked her fingers again.

We were back in the bunker, "are you done" Sam asked as I noticed there were tear stains on his face. "Cassie!!" I heard a sweet melodic voice, was it Y/N? She walks into the library and started dancing, that's when I noticed there was music, Y/N always listened to Rock, it was her favorite but right now she was listening to the Mulan soundtrack, she never listened to Disney but right now she was singing along as if she'd done it before. "Cassie" She calls out again. A few seconds later Castiel appeared. "I brought you a book," he tells her as he hands her Fahrenheit 451, "you know you don't have to bring me a book every week" she giggles out, still accepting the book and hugging him. "Let's dance" she asked him, "Castiel never made her feel unwanted" Billy says as she sits in a seat. "Can you stop" I asked, not wanting to see this anymore. "Dean keeps calling me for help" Cass informed Y/N, she looked sad right away, "right, okay, go then" she says and goes to turn off her music but Castiel stops her. "He can wait".

Now, I don't know where we are. "I remember this night, please Billy, don't make us see this" Sam begs Billy, I look at him confused. It was a motel, I couldn't remember though. I look around and Sam and I are watching a movie, he looks about 16, which made me 20. Why can't I remember this night? That's when the door slams open and my little sister walked in, her clothes ripped, she's been crying and she's limping. What happened. "You could've picked up the phone" she whispers at us, we don't even look at her, just chatting and watching the movie. I remember, we had been called to the hospital the day after to pick her up but dad had made us leave, said he'd pick her up in a week. I never figured out what had happened. She walks over to her bed and we turn to her. "This is by far her worst, she had to endure the pain, all by herself." Billy sighs as she looks at Y/N with sympathy. 16 year old Y/N had taken off her clothes, not even caring that we were in the room, now Sam and I avert our eyes and look at each other, Sam was crying, what happened. "Look" Billy demands sternly and forces us to see. There was my little sister in a white towel but there was blood running down her legs, she walked to her small bag and got out clothes and walked into the restroom, I could hear her sobbing. "Hello? Bobby, I need help" she sobs on the other side of the door. "I called Sam and Dean but as I just got to the motel they've been watching movies. I called John, I told him what happened and he blamed me. Bobby, some old man raped me outside the library" she sobbed out. "He held me at gunpoint, I need to go to the hospital, what if I get pregnant? I'm scared dad" we heard a thump, she had dropped her phone. "Bobby was too far out, other side of the country, she had to walk to the hospital all by herself. She had to deal with the rape kit, the police, everything, all by herself. John felt she needed to be punished. In case you didn't figure it out, this was the day you assumed she had gone mute" Billy admits, and finally we're back in Y/N's room.

Y/N was on the bed, sleeping. "This is when she finally was at peace." I noticed the bottle, there was no label. Is she sleeping. "I gave her body to Castiel, we burned her before you got here. He felt you didn't deserve to be there." Billy says and pats my back as I cry. That's when my little sister's lifeless body disappeared. Sam fell to his knees and started sobbing. How could we just ignore her like that? "It was always just Sam and Dean against the world right? Imagine being the forgotten Winchester, she was strong for lasting as long as she did" is all Billy says before she disappeared. Leaving Sam and I alone in our sister's room. A sister that we didn't even get to say goodbye to.

[breadrollsequel]

May the darkness within you find peace in the light

Read the full fic here on AO3!

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV) Rating: Not rated, contains some mild descriptions of drug abuse Wordcount: 1714 Tags: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves (minor), Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Reginald Hargreeves’ A+ parenting is back with a vengeance, Canon Compliant, pre-S1, Side B takes place a little after the final scene in S2 

Summary: 

Two one-shots, where Klaus loses Ben in some form.

Side A: The first time Klaus manages to shut out the ghosts, he shuts out Ben as well. Side B: Hours after losing one Ben, Klaus meets another in the flesh.

*Spoilers for S2 finale*

*

“You know, I’m tired of seeing you wallow in self-defeat.”

“Then avert your gaze.”

The screams were getting quieter now. He was going to make it.

              Klaus groped for the bottle and shook out the remaining pills onto the palm of his hand.

              “Klaus, that’s enough.”

              The voice cut through his senses like hard sunlight cutting through the blinds in a dark, smoke-filled room. A few capsules slipped through the cracks between his fingers.

              Ben’s face swam into view amongst the shifting pinks, yellows and blues of his vision.

              Go away, Ben, he wanted to say, why was he always such a buzzkill when it came to parties?, but instead he let out a giggle.

              Oh, but Ben didn’t have that disappointed look on his face that he usually had whenever he came to crash one of his parties. He looked frightened.

              “Klaus, you’re in bad shape. You have to stop now.”

              Klaus blinked. He didn’t feel any different from how he usually did. In fact, he couldn’t really feel much at the moment, other than being way, way out of planet Earth. The sounds of people laughing around him sounded like he was hearing them through a really thick carpet, the guests were acting out a scene from his favourite romantic drama and his brain felt like cotton candy and – he could see a face now, beside Ben’s, the dark circles under her eyes and the bridge of her nose caving back into her face, whispering and pleading his name…

              “Oh, no. No, no, no.” The colour was draining out of his vision, out of the fountain and the towers of red cordial. It was getting louder again, they were coming back. He held his hands to his ears. “Shut up!”

              “Klaus - ”

              He’d never heard Ben this distressed before. More faces were starting to appear behind him, blue smudges that made awful whimpering noises, faces that would later turn into bodies…

              “Shut up!” He crammed the pills into his mouth.

              They tasted like fire and then they tasted like the toffee he and his siblings used to sneak back on the way back from missions. Ben was also calling his name. Shut up, Ben, he thought. I need the ghosts to shut up. He pounded at his head with the base of his palms so it could be quiet –

              When he blinked his tears away, Ben’s face was inches from his. “You’re going to be fine, stop it, please.”

              The other ghosts started to scream. He felt his head starting to split open. There were many times for Ben to be annoying, but this wasn’t one of them. “Don’t be stupid, Ben.”

              He pawed the ground for the lost pills, found one lodged in the folds of his pants, and gulped that down. Colour burst to life in his vision. The blue faces exploded into blue flowing water that soaked his feet and sparkled as the sunlight hit its surface. Ben’s face became… smudged, there was no face there, like how he’d looked when Klaus popped his first pill. He didn’t like that.

He saw a bright yellow fruit smiling at him from where it floated in the water. He took a bite out of it.

              The blue smudges turned into yellow smiley faces, and their mangled, misshapen bodies turned into brightly-coloured dresses and suits. Ben was wearing the suit he’d worn the day he died, with a splitting gash that stretched from his neck to his stomach, leading down to a void that seemed to suck out all the noise in his head. That wasn’t right. Klaus rubbed his eyes with his fruit-stained fingers, and waved his hands like he used to back when he thought it would shoo away the ghosts.

              The party was over. There was no more screaming. He’d done it.

              Klaus clapped with glee. It was the only sound in the silence of the room. “What’d I tell you, Ben-Ben? Suck it up!”

Ben sat further away from him now, almost blending into the shadows. He sat hunched over himself, his eyes closed.

“Ben?” he tried again.

              When Klaus woke up the next morning with a sip from his flask, there were no ghosts, and there was no Ben.

*

“He wanted me to tell you that he was too scared to go into the light. It wasn’t you that made him stay.”

*

“Your uncle Ben, he took down four of them at the same time.”  

Time travel was weird. It was the only thing Klaus could keep telling himself, the minute he met him. Suddenly he couldn’t really blame Five for murdering his way into a mid-life crisis at thirteen, with the powers that he had.

              Ben was dead, right? He’d felt him – realised he’d felt him go, almost a day ago. And now he wasn’t.

              And it wasn’t because the feeling of Ben’s physical presence - instead of the floaty, omnipresent presence he’d felt throughout half his life – was unfamiliar to him.

              This Ben didn’t feel like his Ben.

              A spinning wheel of statements went round his head before he started the conversation. “How was… not dying?”

              Sparrow Academy Ben raised an eyebrow, confused.

              “In our timeline,” Klaus coughed, searching for the right words. “The timeline where you are my brother - ” The words came out more desperate than he intended, it happened and no amount of time travel could change that. “ – you died.”

              “Your timeline me must have been a colossal wimp, then,” Ben said.

              “How’d you become such a prick?” Klaus muttered, then back to Ben, “Yeah, you were. Your timeline Dad didn’t make you read those dead-language, cult-y tomes in the middle of the night until you broke out in hives? Force you to eat that weird casserole so little Ben Jr. inside you wouldn't get hungry, that made you puke black goo for a week? Made you sleep on a pentagram to see if a different tentacle monster would pop out of you like some sick Kinder surprise?”

              “He did,” Ben said firmly. “But Dad was very patient with me, and while my training was painful, I learned to get over it.”

              “He was patient with you?” Klaus forced out a laugh. He held his arms out in faux admiration. “Well, congratulations on becoming daddy’s boy, because Dad wouldn’t have ‘changed tactics’ if it wasn’t us who showed him the wonderful shitshow his normal parenting came out with.”

              “I see why he decided not to adopt you happy few,” Ben sneered, the scar on the bridge of his nose appearing more jagged.

              Klaus balled his fists, but he couldn’t bring himself to deck Ben upside the head.

              Vanya took a cautious step forward. “Klaus, don’t fight him, That’s not –“

              “Not our Ben.” Klaus made a swallowing sound, then continued, pacing towards Ben. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe that all this while, sweet, voice of reason, sometimes a little annoying Ben was the least likely to turn out like Dad.” He stopped, cringing at Ben’s uniform. “Did Dad liking you more this time inspire you to be daddy’s little monster?” He nodded at the Sparrow siblings on the other side of the room. “I guess your new siblings turned out to be even bigger assholes so you had to play daddy to keep them in check?”

              “My brothers and sisters pushed me to be the be the best version of myself,” Ben countered, his voice raised. Klaus remembered the other time he sounded like this was when he was berating him for going on one of his drug runs. “They didn’t hold back.” He frowned as he said this, but his tone returned steady. “But I’m thankful that I had them.”

              “But you didn’t have me,” Klaus said bluntly.

              “I can’t imagine you being my brother.” Ben shrugged. “You’ve got a lot of trouble letting it go. I’m sure you’d drag the whole family down with you.”

              Klaus was quiet. His fists trembled.

              “Klaus,” Vanya tried quietly, touching his shoulder. “Now’s not the time.”

               “If you’re telling the truth, then Dad trained us well,” Ben’s tone softened slightly, almost in a consoling manner. “And maybe I owe it to you six that he learned not to make the same mistakes. And I came out stronger because of it.”

              Reginald Hargreeves had considered that the early demise of Number Six was in some part due to his own miscalculations. So unlike the new six that he’d decided to raise, he’d decided to take a different approach with the number he’d failed – slower steps this time, more nurturing, more encouragement, all for building Number Six to live up to his name, until the day came when The Horror emerged from a room littered with the broken bodies of criminals, uniform drenched in blood and hair sticking to his forehead, with a bright smile on his face.

              “I guess you could spend a few minutes with my siblings and see how much of an improvement they are over you,” he continued. “Before Dad kicks you out of the house.”

              He nodded to the rest of them, and walked away.

              “I’ll pass,” Klaus mumbled, putting on his hat.

              Vanya gripped his arm firmly. “Our Ben was real.” She looked at him with the eyes that had watched him fade into the light. “Nothing changes that.”

              “Actually it felt just like talking with our Ben,” Klaus said to the ground. “But if every conversation we had was an argument.”

              Vanya nodded.

              Before she pulled away, Klaus grabbed her shoulders. “He didn’t meet us. That’s why he’s such a prick. If you guys are planning something - " He took a shaky breath. “We need to kidnap him, or something, take him on a life-changing field trip with us, with me…”

              It felt like Dave in 1961 again, begging him to believe in a future that would definitely change as soon as he talked about it. What did he care, time travel wasn’t his thing. “Or what do you think?” Klaus sighed. “You’re the expert on supervillains. No offence.”

              Vanya put a hand over his, one of the few affectionate gestures she’d started showing her siblings after the incident in Dallas. “We’ll come back for him.”

              Klaus nodded, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. “We’re coming back for him.”

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 19

Yes it’s late! Yes I skipped Day 18! Yes I’m very tired lol. This day is a sequel to Day 12--which is a sequel to Day 9. SO if you want to read the full series from the start, 9 then 12 then 19!

Prompt: Protective Tentacles

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan, Roman, Virgil, Remus

Warnings/Tags: SFW, Swearing, sleep issues, sleep deprivation, mentioned bulimia, mentioned seizures, mentioned hallucinations, mentioned sleepwalking, drug use, prescription medicine abuse, kissing, fainting, brief mentions of therapy, hospital stay and psychiatric evaluation. General apathy and sympathetic Remus

               Logan grabbed the doorknob and heard the maid shout his name; he winced and turned, “Sarah, I really don’t have time to-“

               She held up the dropper with a look of longsuffering. Logan opened his mouth and took the drops of CBD oil under his tongue before rushing out the door. He spat into the bushes, taking a sip of water and rinsing out his mouth as he crossed the large lawn, punching in the code to open the gate as he spat again. He climbed onto the bus and sat down, taking out his phone and checking the school’s portal. Mr. Stevenson still hadn’t graded the Calculus exams, and Logan grit his teeth, shoving his phone into his pocket. Even though his parents would never ask, Logan liked to have his grades updated and ready to show them when they came in on Wednesdays for dinner. He was starting to feel slowed, and he checked the time, firing off a text to Roman as he swallowed his last stashed Adderall, hoping his friend would have more today.

               Logan had a schedule, just enough Adderall to last him until Wednesday, then he’d leave his new batch in his locked cello case until Thursday when his parents would no longer be home all evening and search his room. Then he hauled the cello home for his weekend lessons and used the school loaner on Friday. His mother would bring him on Monday mornings so he could bring the cello back and store it in the band room. Or Tuesday, if his mother was busy with meetings, like this week. Anytime Roman didn’t manage to palm enough Adderall—which was often—Logan would turn to the three other rich kids with prescriptions that were willing to sell—or trade for pot; Logan would take several pills a day, as many as it took to keep withdrawals at bay, unless he actually managed to run out. Logan’s parents were scientists, but his mother had gone on a natural medicine kick when the therapists had given up. So now he had a weed card, and a mother obsessed with monitoring his sleep—very unnecessarily. Logan had done plenty of research on the best ways to skip sleep, and other than days when his parents—or the maid—would watch him to make sure he didn’t spit out his treatments, or when his mother decided to try some new pot baked goods or when his father would smoke with him in some odd attempt to make Logan feel like they were bonding as men.

               As infuriating as that was, it didn’t hold a candle to the way his mother would wail and beg him to sleep on the weekends. Ever since his first seizure she had been insufferable, unbearable in her smothering. Logan tried to be more careful now, keeping track of the Adderall and the CBD and the caffeine and the sleep he’d actually given in to. The seizures had been the first symptom of critical systems failure, but certainly not the worst. The hallucinations were bad, auditory worse than visual because Logan had a harder time dismissing them. Worst of all were the episodes where he’d black out, but his body would keep going. He’d broken through his bedroom window and rolled off the roof, falling down and cracking his left shoulder. Thank god for your mom’s azalea bushes! Sarah had shouted at him, watching him writhe in pain in the grass. The time he’d managed to scare her had been his most frightening time as well.

              Logan had come to in the kitchen with a knife in his hand. Sarah was curled on the floor between the island and the oven, screaming for him to stop with the kitchen phone in her hand. He dropped the knife and started crying. He wanted to go to her for comfort. Sarah had raised him, after all, and Logan was six before he’d finally learned not to call her mommy. He was the monster, though, the bad thing he was scared of—and she was even more scared than he was. So, he turned around and went to his room, crying at his desk until the police and paramedics showed up. He’d spent a week in the hospital under strict psychiatric observation then. Logan had slept for 36 hours straight, and woken up with tears in his eyes. Both of his parents had been there, the whole time, and even now Logan’s heart would tighten at the warmth of the memory, waking up to their hugs and kisses and smiles.

              Logan was pulled out of his nostalgia when his phone pinged. His mother’s contact photo popped up on his phone over the text Have a good day, sweetie! See you tonight! I’m making dessert!

              Logan’s lip curled and he quickly checked his homework schedule, moving things around. His mother would definitely dose him tonight, which meant he’d sleep, and run behind. He would have exactly three hours from arriving home until his parents came in for dinner at 7 pm sharp. He could finish almost all of his homework, but the extra credit for Calculus 3 would have to wait until Thursday evening, pushing back his homework he planned to finish early in order to take a few hours off to watch Nasa’s livestream of the upcoming meteor shower. He swore under his breath. He hated missing the livestreams, especially when his parents would be bothering him about watching it. He wanted to, but he couldn’t fathom it now.

              He jumped when the bus stopped short and he had to throw out his hand to save his face from hitting the seat in front of him. He straightened his glasses and scowled up at the man in the mirror. Behind him a rowdy pair of girls started shouting obscenities, blaming the driver for interrupting their impromptu makeup session. Logan rolled his eyes, reminded of Roman and Virgil. The thought of his friends brought a genuine smile to his face. Although Logan was put on edge by the mere thought of sex, romance or—god forbid—love, he did wonder when his friends would admit their feelings for one another. Even his own mother had noticed their shameless heart eyes for one another during their last concert. Logan had tried to stop her from calling Virgil’s dads, but the woman never listened to him no matter how loudly he shouted. It was one of the biggest reasons Logan didn’t bother getting angry anymore, especially with his parents; it accomplished nothing and it wasted precious energy.

              A jab to the back of his head made him turn around, that well-hidden anger bubbling to the surface, but it dulled when he saw two of his usual suppliers had moved to the seat behind him. He glanced back to the usually inattentive driver and then dug in his backpack, producing the small parcels he usually divided his stash into for economical reasons. He set two between his feet and nudged them backwards, his eyes glued on the driver. A second later, the parcels were replaced with a pill bottle and he grabbed it, taking visual inventory of the total pills inside before shoving it into his backpack and zipping it. The two boys did the same, disappearing back into the proverbial crowd. The school was two stops away, and Logan had already gone back to calculating his homework time, and whether it would be worth skipping lunch or not. He decided against it—Roman probably wouldn’t eat, and Logan usually tried to get extra food for him at lunch, passing it to him during band and hoping Roman could end up trapped long enough to actually absorb some nutrients before purging everything again. It usually didn’t work, but sometimes the director was in a bad mood and he’d make Roman wait. Logan knew manipulating friends was technically wrong, but guilt wasn’t really something he participated in.

                 The hours went by fairly quickly until lunch; Roman had another Adderall for him and he saved it, swallowing it during third period Calculus when he decided to try and cram his extra credit in between taking lecture notes. Unlike the day before, Roman and Virgil attended lunch rather than smoking in the parking lot. Roman got a salad and a water while Virgil and Logan went for the cheeseburgers that were probably not made from actual meat, but they tasted brown, and they had cheese on them, and that was enough. They sat down at their table—avoided by most of the other students due to Logan’s snippiness. He was halfway through his food when Virgil choked on a bite, “Jesus L! Is that your heartbeat?”

               Logan looked down where his heartbeat was causing his shirt to tremble in time, a bit elevated, but not that bad for him. He scowled and moved his drink—a large canned energy drink—in front of him, “What about-what are you doing?!”

               Virgil had stood and pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Logan’s neck, “Hold still and be quiet.” He watched his phone timer until it beeped, “Two hundred bpm!”

               “No it isn’t,” Roman said, standing up to check.

               Logan sat sullenly as they double and then triple-checked their results, “It really is two hundred. Logan that’s too fast!” Virgil said. “When’s the last time you had an Adderall?”

               Logan opened his mouth, but he couldn’t remember, so he scoffed, “Stop overreacting. It’s no big deal anyway.”

               His throat was dry, and he tried to clear it, taking a slow swallow of his energy drink and waving them off. “Logan maybe you shouldn’t be-“

               “Just shut up, Roman!” Logan sniped, then he closed his mouth and pinched his nose shut, trying to force air out of his lungs. After twenty seconds, Logan moved his hand and let out a long, slow breath, smiling, “There, nothing a vagal maneuver can’t fix. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve lost my appetite.”

               Logan stood up and—without any warning—fainted.

                 Logan winced against the bright overhead lights, trying to blink away the blurriness, but he didn’t have his glasses. He could hear voices, distant and muddled. ”…-es, ma’am. His two friends are beside themselves. If it’s going to be a while would you mind if th… alright. Yes ma’am he’s asleep now, but unfortunately I can’t administer anything you haven’t given me here… CBD oil? No Mrs. Berry we don’t… yes ma’am I’ll tell him.”

              Logan squeezed his eyes closed as the curtain around his cot rustled and the nurse checked on him. “I know you’re awake, Mr. Berry. Your mother said your friends could come and sit with you until she gets here. The band director already gave them a pass. Feel like visitors?”

              Logan nodded, “’s bright.”

              “That’s what happens when you do whatever shit you’re doing and then wake up with a hangover in the nurse’s office,” the nurse said. “But, I’ll turn half the lights off. Just try not to get rowdy some of us still have to work.”

              Logan sighed, but he did smile a bit when the lights went out, only to jump as Virgil and Roman crowded in beside him, “Fuck, Logan you scared the shit out of me!” Virgil scolded.

              “How are you feeling?” Roman asked.

               “Mom’s on the way,” he rasped.

               “I got it,” Roman said. “I already took it all out of your bag.”

               Logan looked to see the nurse, but her desk was empty and she was standing in the hallway. Virgil glanced over, “She didn’t hear y-“

               “Give me one,” Logan said.

               Virgil shook his head, “Logan no fucking way! You just fainted!”

               Logan squeezed his eyes shut, “Please, I’m gonna have to go all week… maybe longer, please! Roman? Please?”

               Roman glanced at the nurse, then pulled the curtain, fumbling in his jacket pocket.

               “No!” Virgil hissed as Roman pulled out the bottle and offered it to Logan.

               “I c-can’t swallow it,” Logan said thickly. “Not whole.”

               Roman met Virgil’s eyes and ignored his expression of horrified disappointment. He popped two of the pills into his mouth and chewed it, wincing at the taste—though it was nothing compared to the things that he tasted on any given day. He gathered as much saliva as he could and then bent over Logan, pressing their lips together. Logan wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck to hold him in place, and he licked the Adderall out of Roman’s mouth like a dying man. The kiss was slow at first, mechanical, but it became something else as they stayed close, and soon Virgil was checking the nurse’s whereabouts again as the other two made out, Roman letting out little pleasant moans against Logan’s lips.

               Virgil cleared his throat loudly when the nurse returned, and Roman straightened, fixing his shirt. Logan closed his eyes again and waited for the meds to kick in a bit more. “How long til she gets here?”

               “Nurse said an hour,” Logan said. “Or that’s what I think she said. Mom’s got clinical trials today so it’s not something she can just leave.”

               “They should have sent you to a hospital, not left you here with your dealer,” Virgil growled, glaring daggers at Roman.

               Roman sighed as he pocketed the pills, “Look, I’ll keep these in my bag until I get to come see you, ok? Then I’ll leave them behind that loose siding under your window. Just don’t be stupid. Maybe this is a good opportunity to quit.”

               Logan wanted to argue, but his lips were still kiss swollen and the taste of Adderall soothed him, so he just nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

               “I love you,” Roman said, lifting Logan’s hand to kiss it, then he ducked out.

               “He’s just as bad as you are,” Virgil said. “For enabling you like that. I can’t stand it, Logan. I can’t stand what you two do to each other.”

               “Are you jealous?” Logan asked; his words were cold, but so was he, and the last thing he needed was a lecture.

               Virgil winced, “Fuck this,” he muttered. He turned and pushed the curtain out of the way, leaving the office—and Logan—in buzzing silence.

                 Logan woke up on Friday, late in the evening. His parents were home, judging from the voices downstairs, and he could remember faded scenes with them over the past two days. He’d missed school, missed band practice, missed the meteor shower and—judging from the raging head and body ache—enough Adderall to start withdrawal. He sighed and slid to the edge of the bed, sneaking over to his window. He’d just reached to open it when something grabbed his ankle in the dark, pulling him. He hit the carpet and was dragged, scrabbling uselessly at the carpet until suddenly he was on his stomach on smooth, cold stone. He squinted in the low light as he stumbled to his feet, until someone—or something—handed him his glasses. He quickly put them on and found himself standing in front of a stranger, “Hello?”

               “He was finally awake!”

               Virgil and Roman stepped out into the light and Logan took half a step back, “I’ve never hallucinated these two before,” he muttered to himself.

               “We aren’t hallucinations, Logan,” Roman said. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up all week.”

               “I didn’t really get the chance to tell you about Remus because you fainted at school and… well I took off. But he’s my friend.”

               “Our friend,” Roman said. “He’s been keeping us up all night pretty regularly. You should love him.”

               “By the way,” Remus said. “Whatever they have you on, those brownies are delicious. I stole five while waiting for you to wake up.”

               Virgil rolled his eyes but it was an affectionate gesture, “Glad to see you again, L. I’m… sorry I… whatever, I’m sorry.”

               Logan opened his mouth but Virgil stepped forward and hugged him, and as soon as Logan felt him, he knew he wasn’t hallucinating. “Virgil… I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have-“

               “Yeah what did you say to him?” Roman asked. “He was mad the whole night!”

               “Mind your business,” Logan said when Virgil’s cheeks turned red. “So um… Remus, huh? What is he?”

               “No idea,” Virgil said. “A monster from under my bed, but he said he can get us into the amusement park through the staff emergency sleeping quarters.”

               “Theoretically,” Roman reminded.

               “Close enough!” Remus said, clapping his hands together. “So, Logan, would you like to come on some potentially life threatening rides with us, without any security or safety measures taken?”

               Logan smiled when Virgil nudged him, “I guess so, as long as I don’t break my glasses.”

[valiantthewriter]

sammy is sick, and dean is left taking care of him.

I love these fluffy ones omg. This is Weecest because that’s my go to.

Sam sits up with a hacking cough, his thin body shaking from the force of it. He is pale and shivering and sweating and he just feels so unbelievably awful.

“Dean?” Sam rasped out, whining when he realizes how scratchy and sore his throat is. He had to be dying. Another set of coughs came out alongside a whimper. Damn, being sick was the worst. 

No answer. Did Dean head out without him? Dean always said that he didn’t want his 14 year old brother tagging along and making him look like a nerd. He looked to the nightstand to see if Dean took the cell phone. Maybe he had some of the cash that Dad left and he was just out. If he had the phone then Same could call and ask for some medicine.

Nope, the phone was there but the cash was gone.

With a heavy sigh, Sam laid down only to have another coughing attack. It seemed like sitting was better. He took the blanket off his and Dean’s bed and wrapped both blankets around himself, bundling up like a caterpillar building a cocoon. Once he was adjusted, he grabbed the remote and turned some cartoons on. 

The door opened ever so slowly, too slowly for Sam to like. So, he did what he could; he picked up his boot, threw it at the door, and ran for the bathroom. He knew he could fit through the window and-

“Ow! What the hell, Sammy?” Dean cried, coming into view holding a bag and Sam’s shoe. “Really? I’m glad it wasn’t a knife.”

Sam was about to say something sarcastic when he was subjected to another round of coughing. Dean was immediately next to him, rubbing his back and pushing back his sweaty hair.

“Jesus, baby boy, you’re burning up. Here are the meds I got you,” Dean said, taking out some cough medicine and a bottle of ginger ale. “You started moaning in your sleep and then the coughing started. I think you got what’s been going around at school.”

He took the medicine from Dean, whimpering as he swallowed the pill dry. He hated ginger ale.

“Stubborn. Alright, we need to get you cleaned up. You’re disgusting,” Dean said with a sniff, picking Sam up bridal style and carrying him to the bathroom. Sam blushed crimson.

“I can walk, Dean!” Sam cried out, huffing as he was sat on the toilet. 

“Shut up. Let me take care of you like I always do,” Dean said, opening the shower curtain to turn on the shower, checking the water to make it the right temperature. “This reminds me of when you got chicken pox when you were five and I had to make sure you were taking your oatmeal baths and rubbing you with calamine lotion.”

Sam remembered. He always remembered everything Dean did for him.

Dean stood Sam up and began divesting Sam of the blankets and his clothes, making a face at how sweaty the are. “Yeah, definitely going to do laundry tomorrow,” Dean muttered, helping Sam into the shower before stripping as well.

“What are you doing?!” Sam exclaimed, crowding himself into the corner of the shower. 

“Shut up, Sammy. Let me take care of you,” Dean insisted, getting some soap lathered up on a wash cloth. 

The shower was spent in thoughtful silence and hacking coughs, the occasional sighs of pleasure slipping out of Sam as Dean kneaded his aching shoulders. Once Sam was all clean, Dean turned off the shower and dried both of them off.

“Go put some clean clothes on and sit on my bed. Yours is all nasty and smells like your gym socks,” Dean instructed, picking up the blankets to follow Sam out.

They both got dressed and Sam laid down on Dean’s bed, still shivering. Dean made quick work of getting Sam tucked in. He looked down at his little brother and ruffled his damp hair. “Get some slip, little bro. We have to get moving in a couple days so we need you well.” Dean went to go sit in the chair in the corner to go to sleep. 

“Wait, Dean...come sleep with me. I’m still cold,” Sam whispered, scooting over to make room for his brother. Dean laid beside him and they both looked at each other. Something was different. Something had changed.