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sinofwriting · 8 days

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Homecoming - Oscar Piastri/Reader/Logan Sargeant

Words: 3,290 Summary: She hasn’t seen them since April and she can only hope that they aren’t mad that she lied to them. Note(s): Thank you @casperlikej for this commission! Had a lot of fun writing it! NSFW. Takes place in 2023. Reader is in the military. Reader is an American, who also somewhat grew up in the UK, but it’s all very vague. Also, don’t surprise people in showers, injuries can and will happen.

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes. “It’s okay, baby.” Logan says. Oscar nods, but there’s worry in his eyes. “Is everything okay?” She nods, “yeah, they just gave me the wrong date. It wasn’t until I was talking to my CO about leaving that they realized. I should’ve said something sooner.” “It happens.” Oscar tells her and she can see through the computer screen the way his fingers twitch, obviously wanting to reach out, and her heart aches.

She misses them so much, both her boys. Hasn’t seen them since April when China got canceled and they both managed to get away from their teams to see her. But she hasn’t really seen them since last year, since 2022, when Oscar was just a reserve and Logan was in F2 with their weird spotty schedule. They didn’t have as many race dates or things to attend. They had spent so much time with her then.

“Do they have your next date for leave?” She shakes her head. “Not yet. I think they’re trying to figure out how they gave me the wrong date.” She shrugs. “But it could mean I get some extra time.” Oscar snorts but Logan nods. “You’ll let us know as soon as you can?” “Of course, Lo. As soon as they tell me, I’ll text you. Have a good day, though, both of you.” Both their noses wrinkle but they nod.

And with I love you’s exchanged, she hangs up, looking at the packed suitcase next to her. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too mad that she lied.

—

Being in the military wasn’t exactly something she planned on. Not as a little girl, not as a preteen and not at fifteen when she discovered she liked both her best friends.

But then she was seventeen wanting to apply to different colleges and programs and her parents had to sit down and tell her that while they had this nice house and the family home in Florida and cars and she hadn’t really wanted for anything, that was all they had. They didn’t have enough money for her to apply to three colleges, let alone the near twenty she wanted to.

It had been a fight instantly. Because she didn’t know what she wanted to do. And for the past year they had been telling her that it was okay and that she’d have college to figure that out and it had been a lie. She remembers throwing things in a bag and going to Oscar’s brand-new place, because he was already eighteen and his parents wanted him to be comfortable.

She remembers throwing herself in his arms and then Logan’s because of course Logan was also there. Remembers crying because it kind of felt like her world was ending. She remembers the way they both had soothed her, held her, let her rage and sob. She remembers the way after when she was more calmed down, the shock gone from her system, they presented a bunch of options for her.

Working with them, working for Oscar’s dad, working for Logan’s uncle, doing this in college and that, just something, anything that sounded appealing and she can remember how she shook her head after every option and how despite that they didn’t get frustrated or angry, they just said okay before offering another until they ran out of things to offer.

It was her uncle, though he wasn’t really her uncle, that told her she should think about the military. She laughed at first thinking he was joking, but he hadn’t laughed with her, instead looked at her seriously.

“You know that I served.” And she had nodded, she had faint memories of being in elementary school or even younger back in Florida and seeing him in uniform, medals and ribbons on his chest. “And you know I’ve said a lot about it. Never kept quiet.” “Rock and a hard place.” He smiled for a second at her words before looking all serious again. “Exactly. What I’m saying is, it’s an option. And nowadays, your contracts aren’t as long depending on the branch like when I enlisted and I’ve got friends.” “I don’t think I’ll like it.” He laughed at her words. “No one knows if they’ll like it until they are in it. Just think about it. It’s something and it will give you time, paid time, to figure out what you really want to do.”

And she had thought about it. She thought about the pros and the cons, how the cons outweigh the pros for her and she nearly didn’t go through with it because of Logan and Oscar. Because they just had to confess to her, tell her that they liked her, wanted to be with her and how could she not tell them the same when it was true? She couldn’t. She had nearly called it good, happy to bounce between them playing personal assistant or social media admin or something, they didn’t really know what she’d do going back and forth, but then she saw her uncle again, a week before she turned eighteen.

He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t brought it up, hadn’t even mentioned the military. But just seeing him reminded her of their conversation, of the way she spent hours upon hours after considering it.

Seeing him made her realize she had to go through with it.

She doesn’t really remember telling Logan and Oscar her decision. She remembers how they reacted, both surprised, unaware she had been considering it. Logan had been understanding, but he was from America just like her, he had family in the service. Oscar didn’t understand, couldn’t understand why. It hadn’t been a fight, not that she remembered, but she knew that her decision had nearly broken them that day.

—

“You reenlisting?” Her uncle's voice is gruff. “No, sir.” He grumbles, lips twitching into a smile. “Good. And don’t call me sir. You in reserves now?” She nods. “As of last week.” “Logan and Oscar know?” She throws him a look. “Why would you be driving me to Vegas if they knew?” He laughs. “Fair. They’re doing good, right? In their Formula One thing?” She smiles, “Yeah, they’re doing alright. Did you like COTA?” He shrugs, merging onto the freeway. “Didn’t understand it, but it was alright. Beer was overpriced.” “Always is at events.” “I remember when you could get a six-pack,” he starts and she mouths along with him, having heard this since she was ten, unable to not smile as she does so. “What?” He asks, seeing her smile. “Nothing.” She tells him. “Just happy to see you haven’t changed.”

—

Vegas is annoying, she decides as she waves her uncle off, the older man having decided to stick around and try his luck at one of the casinos. Or rather the traffic currently in Vegas is annoying.

Pulling out her phone she texts Benny letting him know that she’s at the hotel. Looking around she smiles at all the lights and people milling around. She’d give Vegas this, it was pretty cool to look at.

“Y/N!” She turns her head, smiling at Logan’s trainer. “You got here early!” He chuckles, pulling her into a hug that she returns with one arm, still having a hand on her suitcase. “We made good time. Switched off driving, so saved us a bit from having to stop really.” He pats her on the back before letting her go. “But it was good.” She nods. “All good. How are you? How are the kids?” He grins. “They’re good, amazing, really. Excited that the season is ending and I’ll be home.” “Logan was telling me that you aren’t going to be his trainer next season.” Benny sighs, looking sad as they step foot into the hotel. “The kids are getting older, I want to be there more. If there was a way I could stay on, but not have to go to all the races I would. I love the kid, he’s like one of mine.”

She looks at him considering. She’d been around Logan and Oscar for ten years now, had been around their trainers for over five years, seeing what they did had made it easy for her to choose her degree that the military paid for while she served a year after she joined.

“Maybe you could.” His eyebrow raises. “I have a degree in sports medicine.” “But you have a year left.” She shakes her head. “That last year is reserves, unless we are going to war and all the active reserves have been called, I’m not going back in.” “Logan didn’t say.” “They don’t know.” Benny makes a weird huff sound, shaking his head. “You're going to knock them off their feet this weekend.” She laughs. “Maybe. Just talk to Sarah about it first, I’ll follow you around this weekend and next and we can talk about it with Logan.” “I don’t have to talk about it with Sarah, she’d be thrilled, she wasn’t fond of the idea in the first place. And Logan…” He shakes his head. “If you think Logan won’t be jumping at the idea of having you around twenty-four seven, you’ve lost it.” “Still! Talk about it with Sarah first, just in case.”

He shakes his head, but agrees, handing her a key card as they stop in front of a hotel room door. “This is their room. Gentle with them.” “Kim ask you to relay that message as well?” “Yes.” She laughs, nodding. “I will. Promise.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin on his face. “Go. I’ll see at least two of you tomorrow.” “Bye Benny. Thank you again for helping me.” “Of course.”

She watches as he walks down the hallway before taking out his own key card and entering his hotel room, just a few rooms down. Turning back to face the hotel room door, excitement starts to fill her. She was finally going to see them, be with them.

Pressing the key to the reader, she holds her breath as she waits for the door to unlock, breathes again when it does and she twists the door knob, letting herself in.

The door swings open quietly and her feet and suitcase make no noise against the carpet as she steps inside. There’s the faint sound of the shower running and music playing, and a large smile spreads across her lips. This was the routine she was used to, that hadn’t changed. Them coming back to their hotel room or when finally checking in, getting what they needed put away if they were staying long enough and then putting on some music and hopping in the shower.

The door closes with a small click as she shuts it, kicking off her shoes next to Oscar’s and Logan’s as she does. She hopes as she puts her suitcase next to Logan’s, that the shower is big enough for the three of them, but they’ve made do with some fairly small showers before.

Stepping further into the hotel room, she nearly giggles at the song playing, able to hear it clearly now with the way the bathroom door isn’t completely closed. She loves them so much.

Spotting the dirty clothes bag she bought Oscar for Christmas last year as a stock stuffer, right by the bathroom door, propped against the wall and already filled with a pair of jeans, shorts, shirts and socks, she adds her own pants, shirt, underwear and socks. A quiet sigh leaving her when she takes her bra off, which she carefully places on the back of an armchair.

The bathroom tiles are warm underneath her feet and she lets out a little oh, having expected them to be cold.

Her eyes dart to the sink where the large mirror behind is covered in steam, but her eyes quickly leave it to settle on the shower.

It’s big, maybe just big enough for the three to fit in, but she can’t focus on that because Oscar and Logan are there. She can’t see much, the glass of the shower just as covered in steam as the mirror, but she can see the shapes of their bodies, close together, holding each other as the water hits them.

Taking a deep breath, she steps towards the shower door. She shivers as her fingertips press against the glass before fingers move to open it and poking her head in, voice soft as she looks at them. “Room for one more?” She watches as they separate, Oscar turning to look at her, and they both look at her with confusion and shock, before wide smiles take over their entire faces, eyes shining with happiness.

Oscar the closer of the two reaches forward and she quickly steps in, nearly slipping in her hurry, but Oscar has an arm around her before she can, tucking her into his chest, as Logan shuffles around. The door to the shower closes with a slight noise before his arms are around her as well.

Tension immediately leaves her body at the feeling of them both, and tears start to slip from her eyes. “I missed you guys so much.” “We missed you too, baby.” “So much.” Oscar echoes, arms tightening around her before loosening and she’s being pulled away slightly. She wants to protest, but then his lips are on hers and she moans, sinking into his kiss.

“Lo,” she whines when Oscar stops kissing her, lips tingling. Oscar chuckles, the sound rich and so familiar it wants to make her cry again, but she’s being turned around and Logan is kissing her, his palms cupping her cheeks. “I missed this so much.” Logan breathes against her lips. “Missed the three of us so much.” “Never again.” She tells him, tells Oscar, tells them. “Never again. I don’t have to go back, I’m in inactive reserves and I’m not reenlisting. I’m yours, both of yours.” The words come out in a rush, nearly tripping over each other, but she can’t wait, can’t have them thinking that this will just be a short reunion before she has to leave them again. “Thank god.” Logan breathes before pressing their lips together. “Thank god.” He murmurs again when they separate before she’s turned around to face Oscar again, who practically swallows her whole.

His lips are insistent on hers as his hands clutch at her hips, fingers digging painfully and she hopes that he leaves bruises, wishes that he’d make his grip even tighter, knows he can. She tries to pull away, to ask him to, but he keeps following her lips. Like if he isn’t kissing her, she’ll disappear, so she stops trying. Lets him kiss her, moans when Logan’s lips land on her shoulder, pressing kisses that trail up to the top of it and along the shell of her ear before trailing back down.

“We,” she gasps when Oscar finally stops kissing her, though his lips instead fall to her breasts going between the two, unable to decide which one he wants to give attention to more. “We can’t do this in here.”

The next moments are a blur as they scramble out of the shower, out of the bathroom and tumble into bed, soaking the duvet, pillows, and sheets with their wet naked bodies. It’s a blur of lips on hers, on her body, of fingers pressing and pulling. She remembers clearly the first press of fingers into her body, of Oscar’s tongue laving at her, of the kiss Logan and Oscar shared between her thighs. It blurs with her first and second orgasm.

She remembers clearly as well, the first sink of Oscar’s cock into her, her back to his chest as he laid down, the way he pressed all the way into her, not letting her adjust. She doesn’t remember the apparent fumble for lube or the first two fingers that Logan had carefully sunk into her alongside Oscar’s cock. She remembers the stretch of his three fingers and Oscar’s cock, and finally the stretch of him sinking into her as well. The near painful stretch of having both of them inside her at the same time, in the same hole.

Her mind is still blurry, still coming down from pleasure when they finally break the silence of just trying to catch their breaths and music still playing from the bathroom.

“That was so good.” She makes a small noise in agreement. “You felt so good.” Oscar says, kissing her shoulder and she shudders at the feeling. “You both did.” And she can hear the sound of Oscar kissing Logan. “Logan’s gonna hold you now, okay.” Oscar tells her as she still lays somewhat on top of him. “Both of your legs are shaking.” That makes her blink and look down, swallowing hard because she hadn’t even realized hers were shaking. “And I need to clean you up and get some water for all us, okay?” She nods.

Despite him telling her that, she still nearly whines when he moves out from under her, but he quickly pushes her into Logan’s arms who eagerly holds her close. She hadn’t seen if his legs were shaking as well like Oscar said, but she doubts it with the way Logan manages to turn her around in his arms and pull her so she’s on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest just the way he likes.

“Love you so much, baby.” Logan murmurs into her hair. “You were so good for us. Just fell apart over and over again. Gave us five orgasms.” She makes a surprised sound. That didn’t sound right. “A whole five, baby. It was fucking amazing.” She nuzzles into his neck and he continues speaking, knowing the sound and feeling is soothing.

He stops when Oscar comes back, making a tutting noise at how they are positioned which makes her mumble Logan’s name and Oscar runs a hand down her calf.

“I know, darling. You’re alright. You though,” and she can picture the way Oscar is looking at Logan, pointing a finger at him. “How am I supposed to clean you up?” She feels Logan shrugs as best as he can with her on top of him. “The way you usually do.” The younger makes a huffing sound but is quiet. She can feel his breath against her leg as he most likely bends.

Logan makes a small noise and she kisses his neck. “Cold?” “No, it’s warm.” He reassures her. She hums and when it’s her turn she doesn't even jolt at the feeling of the washcloth running over her most sensitive parts and her thighs. “Alright, you two, you both got to sit up to drink some water.” Oscar says, as he climbs back into bed with them. Logan grumbles and she turns her head to watch as Oscar gets comfy with his back against the headboard, three water bottles on his nightstand.

He’s still naked, probably not even thinking of pulling on underwear or sweats on and it makes her want to curl up in his lap. He seems to feel her eyes on him because he smiles, all soft, sweet, fond and he’s opening his arms and she carefully moves off Logan to do what she thought about it.

Her head rests on his shoulder, as she sits sideways on his lap, facing Logan, who watches them both with that awestruck look of his as he sits up and scoots closer until him and Oscar are sitting side by side and he can draw her feet into his lap, stilling letting her stay curled up in Oscar’s lap, but getting some contact with her.

“Love you both.” “We love you too.”

@darleneslane @copper-boom @eutrizbea @kimmib13 @elliegrey2803 @stopeatread @hiireadstuff @tallrock35

#loscar x reader #oscar piastri x reader x logan sargeant #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 smut #formula 1 smut #sins 5k bday bash fics

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itsbeeble · 6 months

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Enchanted

Summary: You lost each other once, holding out in hopes of crossing paths again. It's almost fate that you do, and Wonwoo doesn't want to let you leave him again

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, exes to lovers

Pairing: Idol!jeon Wonwoo x afab!reader

WC: 4.5k (i got REALLY carried away yall im so sorry)

Series Masterlist

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

WARNINGS UNDER CUT

Warnings: hurt comfort, ex high school sweethearts to lovers, mentions of someone trying to get a little too touchy feely with reader so if you aren't comfortable, don't read it (nothing bad happens AT ALL, the guy is just a dumbass, but i figured i would put a warning for all of you), unprotected sex, making out, fingering, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, begging, kinda dom/sub themes again, mentions of drinking, swearing, marking, spanking, Wonwoo likes boobs, sexual tension, mentions of chemistry, idk there's a lot so let me know if i missed something important

Listen to Enchanted by Taylor Swift <3

A/N: Guys i wrote this all today/last night and i'm really proud of it. It's also the first smut fic that's like...i wouldn't call it intense but it's more than what I'm used to ig. I hope yall like it though <3. Also thank you to Fawn for beta reading again. teehee

You had always hated gatherings: holidays, work events, family reunions, weddings, you name it. You always hated being the only person there without a partner. Not that you felt the need to have one, but it got annoying when you got the same questions over and over and over again.

When are you going to settle down and marry a nice boy?

Your parents aren’t getting any younger, don’t you want them to have some grandkids?

What are you waiting for?

The truth is, you had the answer to only one of those questions. What were you waiting for?

It has to be some stroke of luck when the answer walks right through the door to your high school reunion decked in an all-black suit and the same nerdy glasses he’d had his whole life.

Jeon Wonwoo. Your high school sweetheart turned drunk sob story to your best friends after a few too many cocktails.

It’s ironic how the root of all of your relationship problems just so happens to hate your guts. Not that you blamed him for it. Everything that happened between the two of you, everything that went wrong in your relationship was because of you and your insecurities. Because you didn’t trust that the idol life wouldn’t ruin the two of you. If you were him, you’d cut contact and disappear as well.

Eunchae, your best friend from high school, nudges your arm, her eyes flicking between you and the man who hasn’t spotted your wide-eyed stare.

“Did you know he was coming today?” She whispers harshly, jerking you out of your dumbstruck trance. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, awfully reminiscent of a goldfish.

“I— no, no I didn’t.” You feel out of breath, your heart beginning to pound against your ribs so hard that you fear the bones might snap. “Hana said that— that he didn’t RSVP.”

You look up again, and your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s looking at you, through the crowd of people around him. Wonwoo had his eyes locked on you, his gaze unreadable from where you stood. It feels like he’s cast an enchantment on you, freezing you under the weight of his gaze.

Your hands are shaking, and the drink in your hand almost spills before Eunchae grabs you. Someone steps in front of Wonwoo— a man, from here you can’t tell who— and your view of him is cut off.

You don’t see him try to gently nudge the man to the side while talking to him, trying to get a better look at you. You don’t see the disappointment when he finally gets him to move and you’re gone, out of his view.

“Wonwoo,” one of his old friends, whose name has slipped his mind (Seonkyung maybe?), claps him on the shoulder. “You really have grown up, huh?” Wonwoo smiles politely, adjusting the expensive watch on his wrist.

“I mean seriously,” another man comes forward, someone Wonwoo knows very well and for all the wrong reasons. Lee Jongdae, the man who planted seeds of doubt in your ear. The man who ruined something good, something that would have lasted. “You used to be like,” Jongdae raises his hand, waving it flat in the air next to his shoulder, “this tall? And now you’re a giant!”

“You must be getting all the girls, eh?” Seonkyung teases. Wonwoo wants to scream, wants to get out of this situation as fast as possible. “The idol life must make things easy, right?”

“I don’t really go out much,” he shrugs, still holding that polite smile on his face. “The idol life is busier than you think.” Seonkyung scoffs at this. Jongdae narrows his eyes, but the near-mocking smile returns to his face.

“Come on~” Jongdae presses, “there’s gotta be some idol woman that you’ve snatched up. Someone has to have grabbed the attention of the great Jeon Wonwoo.”

He hesitates. Yes, someone has grabbed his attention but it isn’t another idol in the industry.

“Or, wait,” Jongdae’s hand collides with Wonwoo’s chest, something similar to malice appearing in his eyes. “Are you still hung up on that Y/N girl?”

Wonwoo goes rigid, and beside him Seonkyung gets quiet. Jongdae bursts into laughter, the sound ringing around the room and gathering the attention of a lot of people. Wonwoo feels his jaw tick in annoyance, fighting the urge to roll his eyes or knock the man to the ground.

“No way are you still hung up on her!” Jongdae huffs out between laughs, seemingly uncaring that he’s the only one laughing. “Ten years, and you’re still going after someone who couldn’t care less about you anymore?”

Someone inside of Wonwoo breaks a little bit. Something inside him cracks, and his resolve crumbles slightly. He hadn’t expected the jab to hurt as much as it did, but god did it sting.

“I never said I was hung up on her.” Wonwoo folds his arms over his chest. “Like you said, it’s been ten years. If she’s moved on then that’s her business.”

“So it wouldn’t bother you if I got with her?” Jongdae takes a step forward, an eyebrow arching in challenge. “Because I won’t lie to you, she’s looking good.”

Wonwoo’s jaw ticks again, but he keeps a pleasant smile on his lips. Don’t say yes, don’t say yes. “Like I said, not my business.”

That clearly isn’t the answer Jongdae is looking for, and a puff of pride fills Wonwoo.

And then dread. He just gave the one man he would hate to see you with permission to do whatever he wanted. “Permission”, as if he has any control or say in the things, or people, that you do.

When Jongdae approaches you, there’s an immediate pit of despair in your stomach, like some princess waiting to be saved from the tower she’d been locked in. There’s a menacing look in his eyes, and he walks with a swagger telling you that he’s used to getting what he wants out of a situation.

“Hi, gorgeous.” You almost cringe at the first words out of his mouth, your lips twisting into an awkward, tense smile.

“Hi…?”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jongdae continues, not waiting for you to say or do anything. He’s only focused on getting what he wants, that much is obvious from the way he smirks and glances around to find…someone. Who, you aren’t sure. “You sure have…grown up a bit, haven’t you?”

“I mean…yeah I’m 27. I would hope I’ve grown up a bit.” He laughs a bit too hard for something you hadn’t intended to be funny.

“Say,” he leans closer to you, and you press yourself back against the wall. His hand comes to rest on the side of your thigh, right near the slit in your dress. “Why don’t we get out of here? You know, go somewhere a little bit more…quiet? Maybe Mrs. Ji’s old chemistry lab?”

Your body is tense, and you try to pull away from him.

“No, thank you.” Your hand tightens around the small plastic cup of cheap wine in your hand. “I think I’m fine where I am.”

“C’mon, don’t you wanna loosen up a bit?” He coos, and his grip tightens on part of your dress. Your body tenses.

Then his grip was gone, and his body is hitting the floor, and people were beginning to surround you and Jongdae and…Wonwoo?

Wonwoo is standing next to you, his black jacket seemingly gone, and the sleeves of his black button-up are rolled up to his elbows. His eyes are narrowed, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“What the hell was that for, Jeon?” Jongdae pulls himself to his feet, trying to approach him, but another man steps forward. “Thought you said it wasn’t your business?”

“It wasn’t,” Wonwoo agrees, “but that was only until you tried to do that.”

Something about Wonwoo being this protective over you, even after what you did, makes your stomach twist into knots. You have to remind yourself that he’s just doing this because he had to. Because this is what anyone would do, and your heart sinks into your stomach.

“We were just trying to have some fun,” Jongdae snaps, “right Y/N?”

Wonwoo looks at you, and when you return his gaze it’s like you’re back in high school again.

Do you want to leave? His head tilts ever so slightly toward the door.

Get me out of here. You hope your eyes are portraying that thought perfectly, but the tight smile on your ex’s lips tells you all you need to know.

“She’s not going anywhere with you, Lee Jongdae.” Wonwoo’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, and you find yourself tucking your body into his side just like you used to.

Only this time, it’s like you fit perfectly under his arm. His very…very…very muscular arm and slim waist and when your arm wraps into the back of his shirt, you can just barely feel the tight muscles and—

Oh god, you’re gonna do something you shouldn’t if the two of you don’t leave right now.

You’re lucky that Wonwoo is able to guide you away, and that Jongdae doesn’t try to come after the two of you. You figured that, while the man was stupid, he wasn’t going to try and harm someone making more than triple his annual income and with enough power to ruin his life with just one click of a button. Probably literally.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo has his hands wrapped around the headrest of the driver’s seat in his car, watching you as you pick at the skin around your manicured nails. You turn your head to look at him, pursing your lips.

“I mean…I guess? He didn’t really do anything, thank god.” You let your hands drop to your lap and a heavy sigh escapes you when you let your head fall against your headrest.

“I’m sorry that he did that.” Wonwoo’s voice is gravelly, and you have to take a moment to calm yourself before speaking.

“It isn’t like it’s your fault. You do know that, right?” Wonwoo shrugs.

“It kind of is, though. The only reason he went up to you is because of me. Because he wanted to get under my skin.” Oh? You arch an eyebrow, turning your body to face him. The slit in your dress shifts ever so slightly, exposing your bare thigh. Wonwoo turns his head away from you, his cheeks heating.

“Why would he want to do that?” In your heart, you already know. The way the two of you easily slipped back into your old habits, the way he didn’t even hesitate to help you despite protesting that anyone would have done it. You knew, now, that he didn’t hate you. You just wanted him to admit it.

Wonwoo lets out a heavy sigh and rolls his head to look at you.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” You nod, leaning your body across the center console to get close to him. You can tell he’s nervous, maybe embarrassed.

“You know me, Wonwoo. I always get what I want.” You grin and Wonwoo turns to look at you again and suddenly you’re aware that you aren’t dating him anymore. That it’s weird for you to be that close to him.

Your smile drops and you sink back into your seat. Wonwoo watches you, a frown replacing his previous smile.

“I’m— I’m so sorry.” You press yourself as close to your door as possible. “I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Wonwoo fights the itch in his brain that tells him to grab your hand and place a kiss on the back of it. He hadn’t realized just how enchanted with you he was until he saw you across the room for the first time in ten years. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having you pulled against his side, although you fit much better now that he’d filled out and grown into his body. Wonwoo hadn’t missed the way your breathing hitched when he pulled you against him, hadn’t missed the dazed look in your eye when he looked down to ensure that you weren’t hurt. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I just— I shouldn’t have touched you like that—”

“Y/N,” Wonwoo cuts you off. “You did nothing that I didn’t want you to do.” Your mouth snaps shut, and you look at him with wide eyes. He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I…I still— fuck this is harder than I thought it would be. For a songwriter, you would think I’d know how to confess that I’m still enchanted by you.” He laughs nervously, and when he turns to look at you, you’re smiling gently. You understand.

You stay quiet and then turn to him again. He’s facing you too, and your faces are inches apart.

“I was enchanted by you too, Jeon Wonwoo.”

And then your lips are on his, and it’s a searing kiss that leaves him breathless from the moment it starts. His hand rises to your cheek, gently pulling you even closer to him. Your hands wrap around the fabric of his shirt, and you whine when his tongue hesitantly prods at the seam of your lips.

You open your mouth for him, and his hand slides to tangle in your hair and pull you impossibly closer, nearly across the center console. He roams your mouth, his tongue licking at every inch, sliding against your own as if this was the last time he’d ever be able to kiss you. Your hand slides down, tracing down to his tie, then to his abdomen and you can feel the muscles tightening wherever your nails trace.

Your hand trails even lower, and you feel him freeze against you when you place your hand over his crotch. He forces himself to pull his lips from yours, a string of spit connecting your tongues, and his eyes flutter shut again when your hand squeezes lightly around his hard-on.

“Don’t do this to me,” he pleads. “I’m supposed to be a gentleman.” You smirk, raising your lips to his ear.

“What if I don’t want you to be?” A gentle kiss was placed to the corner of his jaw, and his grip on your hair tightened to the point of near painful. This draws a whimper out of you, right in his ear. He pulls you back, not harshly but enough for your jaw to drop.

“Tell me you’re sure,” he practically begs. “Tell me that this isn’t going to be a one-time thing, that you want me as much as I want you. Tell me that you aren’t in love with someone else, that there’s no one waiting for you at home.”

Tell me you love me.

Your hand slips to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing just under his eye.

“You know that you’ve always been it for me, Jeon Wonwoo.” You promise, and your lips are against his again. It’s sweeter than the first but still filled with ten years of words left unsaid. “Take me home.”

The moment Wonwoo locks the door to his apartment, you’re pressed against the wall with so much force you’re surprised there isn’t a hole in the shape of your body. His hands are on your hips, your thighs, your shoulders, and your chest. Every time he pulls away from your lips, he catches one between his teeth, nipping at the soft flesh before shifting his focus to your neck.

“Wonwoo,” your voice is shaking, your hand tangled in the dark strands of his once neatly styled hair. “Wonwoo, please?” Another hickey blooms across your neck, another on your shoulder, then your collarbone.

“Please what, baby?” He rasps, tugging the strap of your dress to the side until it slips down your shoulder and exposes more of your breast. “What do you need from me?” He slides the other strap down, and you gasp when his cold hands reach up and grab at the soft mounds on your chest.

“Wonwoo— Wonwoo, I—” Your brain has gone to mush the moment his mouth lands on your nipple, sucking at it and nipping at the bud. You breathe out soft moans, your hands struggling to move to the back of your dress to reach for the zipper.

It’s impossible to function with Wonwoo flicking his tongue against one nipple, his fingers kneading and twisting and pinching at the other. Your hands shake as you finally catch the zipper, yanking it down as quickly, yet gently, as possible.

Wonwoo pulls away from your chest, breathing heavily, eyes filled with nothing but lust. He examines your body, entirely nude from your choice to go braless and pantiless tonight, and his cock twitches in his slacks.

“God, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He hisses. You peer up at him with eyes so innocent, but you both know that isn’t the case. “Did you know I was gonna be there? Hm?” He grabs your chin in one of his large hands, yanking you toward his face until you’re struggling to even stand on your tip toes. “Did you know that I was gonna give in to you?”

“No— Wonwoo, I didn’t know—” His free hand collides with your ass and you cry out, stumbling toward him. “Fuck, Wonwoo!” His hand strikes your skin again, and a gush of arousal practically drips down your legs.

“I think you’re lying to me,” he hums thoughtfully. “Lying isn’t nice, you know.”

“I’m not lying— Oh, Wonwoo please—” His free hand has slipped down to your core, delicate fingers brushing against your sopping wet cunt. “Please touch me, please, I need it.”

“Yeah, baby?” One finger pushes between your folds, and your knees almost buckle. Your nails dig into his biceps, squeezing the taut muscle as he sinks two long, slender fingers into you. “Need it so bad, don’t you? Had you waiting for so long. Did you miss me, baby? Miss this?”

“Missed you so bad, Wonwoo,” you arch your back into him, your hips jerking against his fingers. He slips a third inside of you. “Miss— Missed the way you t-touched me.” He hums, curling his fingers up into you and you emit a desperate cry of his name. “Right there, Wonwoo! Fu—fuck, right there!”

“Tell me how much you missed me, pretty girl.” He continues to curl his fingers inside of you, watching you and enamored by the way your eyes roll back, the way your jaw is dropped, and the way your chest heaves. “Tell me how much you need me.”

“N-Need you so–o bad. No o-one makes me fe-feel this good— oh god,” you clench around his fingers, pulsing and dripping down his wrist. “No one el-se made me c-cum like you d-do.” A swell of pride in his chest, and his thumb presses hard against your clit. You spasm around him, your moans growing louder and higher in pitch. “So close, Wonwoo.”

“It’s okay baby,” he purrs, “you can let go. I’m here now, gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you so good, never gonna have to turn to anyone else again. Just let go.”

You spasm again, and your body sags as your orgasm rocks through you. Wonwoo has an arm around his waist, his other hand still working his fingers into you and easing you through your high.

It takes you a few minutes to come down, and by the time you do, Wonwoo has removed his shirt and kicked his shoes off. He’s watching you as you try to step forward, catching you when you stumble. You reach for the button of his slacks and he stops you, smiling when you pout.

“I’m not fucking you here, baby. You deserve to be fucked in an actual bed.” You let him guide you to his bedroom— correction try to guide you. It’s like you’re addicted to the taste of him, your lips practically gluing themselves to his biceps, licking and biting at the salty skin. You can feel every one of his breaths as he walks, and his pace picks up until he’s flinging open his bedroom door and shoving you in front of him. You stumble a bit, and he pushes you again so you fall face down onto his bed. Wonwoo isn’t far behind you, his body leaning over yours and his hand on the back of your neck and preventing you from pushing yourself up.

“Do you know how much I missed this? Being able to fuck you wherever, whenever, and however I wanted?” He hisses into your ear, and you feel his free hand slip down your back as he reaches for the button on his pants. His hips keep rolling into yours, and the little grunts and moans that he releases are almost enough to get you to cum again. “Do you know how hard it was to not imagine that I was fucking your sweet little cunt every time I found someone to spend the night with? No one matched up to you, sweet girl. No one got me to cum like you do, got me as hard as you do.” You whine when he kicks your ankles apart, your nails gripping the duvet for dear life.

When you feel his tip prodding at your entrance, it takes everything in you to not grind into him. He’s breathing heavily into your neck, slowly slipping in. Your body twitches and you fling your hand back, frantically searching for his own to squeeze and distract yourself from the pain of him stretching you out.

“So tight,” he presses his forehead against the back of your neck, his body shuddering. “Fuck, it’s like nobody has fucked since me.”

“N-nobody else felt as good as you,” you gasp out. “No one could stretch me out like you do. Just fuck me, please.”

“Gotta let you adjust, baby,” he argues. “Still got about half left.”

You whine again, jerking his arm in front of you and letting your face fall into it. He groans when your teeth sink into his skin, biting and sucking and gasping against him until you feel his hips connect with yours.

“You ready?” He rubs your back gently, and you frantically nod your head.

“Please, please, please, please—” His hips pull back and you release a guttural moan as he slams his hips into yours. Again and again and again and again. Every thrust sends the tip of cock full force into that soft, pleasurable spot inside of you and it feels so good, and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, and you don’t ask him to. Your mouth has fallen open, a neverending stream of cries and moans and begging leaving your lips.

His hands reach forward, and you feel a finger hook into your mouth on either side. It stings, the stretch of him holding your mouth open, and you feel your back arch, his cock somehow hitting even deeper inside of you. Drool slips down your chin and it’s so nasty but you can’t form the words to stop him. The only things that leave your mouth are nonsensical babbling and you feel Wonwoo begin to rise, taking you with him. One of his hands leaves your mouth and slips down to the base of your throat, and the other’s thumb hooks into your jaw and holds your mouth open. His hand squeezes around your throat, and you squeeze around his cock

“You close, baby?” Wonwoo coos into your ear but you don’t have the brains to form words. Your hips press back into his, one of your hands slipping down to frantically rub at your clit. You’re clenching rapidly around him now, almost in time with when he pulls out of you and you can feel him twitching inside of you. “Gonna cum again?”

You try to tell him that, yes you’re so close and it feels so good and oh god Wonwoo please—

Your body shudders and a sound similar to a scream escapes you, your free hand gripping his forearm tightly and you can feel the skin tearing beneath your nails but neither of you cares as he pumps white-hot cum deep inside of you. His hips are still rolling, adding to the sensation of his cum inside of you. Your core begins to sting with overstimulation, and you try to pull away from Wonwoo with a whine. He just laughs, his hands settling on your waist and lowering you down onto the bed once his cock has softened.

Your back is against his in the tub and he’s running a soft cloth along your body, along the marks on your body and the bruises on your hips.

“You doing okay?” His voice is tender. “I know I was a little bit harsh on you.”

You chuckle. “Not like you haven’t done that before.”

You play with the suds that float in the water, humming quietly. Wonwoo takes a deep breath, letting his head fall back a bit.

“Why don’t you hate me?” You lean your head back on his chest, and he frowns at the question.

“Why would I hate you?”

A shrug and you drop your arms into the water.

“I threw away a nearly perfect relationship just because someone said you’d drop me the moment you found someone better in the idol industry.”

“So?” Wonwoo traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. “That’s not your fault. I get that it was scary. Neither of us knew what was gonna happen, you were already stressed about how things were gonna work with you being in college. I’m not gonna blame you or hate you for that choice. What matters is that we found each other again.”

Your cheeks heat up and you turn your body around in the tub to sit on his lap. He looks up at you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes.

“Did you mean what you said?” You ask. He raises an eyebrow. “In the hallway. That I’d never have to turn to anyone else. Are we gonna…” Your voice trails off and Wonwoo raises his head to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I meant every single word I said tonight. I’m here to stay, Y/N.” His nose nudges against yours. “I was enchanted from the moment I met you, and I want to be yours again if you’ll let me.”

You play with the strands of his hair, smiling like a madman.

“And I meant everything I said as well,” You let your forehead rest against his, your eyes falling shut. “I want you to stay with me. Please.”

Wonwoo exhales softly.

“Always. I will always stay.”

Taglist: @juyeonszn @leejihoonownsmyheart @nobraincellmode

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iloveyugimum · 9 months

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I kinda want to share some hc I have for amane and tsukasa when they were alive because their past makes me cry a waterfall

(these aren’t ship hc I hate the fact that people even thought of them dating, they are twins stop thinking gross, and don’t say “tsukasa abused amane” no he didn’t) these are also mainly amane because he’s my comfort character

. Amane is autistic and his special interest is space, he rants on about it to tsukasa until he runs out of breath (I do this to my brother about my special interest which is TBHK)

. Tsukasa chases Amane with dead creatures and finds it hilarious

. People who weren’t their parents wouldn’t be able to tell them apart immediately until Tsukasa starts being Tsukasa

. Amane feels embarrassed to cry around tsukasa especially after he started getting bullied so he’d sob to himself at night while tsukasa was sleeping

. Tsukasa was actually quite popular in middle school and tried to get amane to join his group but amane isn’t good at socializing

. After the festival amane wouldn’t stop talking about yashiro to tsukasa, they would even try to find her but gave up

. Amane would try and draw yashiro from memory to help tsukasa with finding her

. Then after amane saw her in the tea party arc, he ran to get tsukasa to prove she was real but obviously she was gone by then and amane sobbed that night

. I feel like their mum was scared of tsukasa for a while, amane didn’t understand so he would just hug tsukasa not knowing what to do (this was like after what we saw in chapter 79)

. Amane banned tsukasa from going to the cinema because he’d just cause chaos (inspired by one of the extra panels in volume 9)

. Amane would fall asleep when doing homework and would get told off for not finishing it

. They would fight for no reason like cuphead and mugman do in the cuphead show

. Amane was like the mugman of the two and tsukasa was like the cuphead

That’s all!!!!

#toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #yugi amane #amane yugi #yugi twins #tsukasa yugi #yugi tsukasa #dont mind me im just rambling

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ghost-party · 1 year

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Pairing: Shinji Hirako x F!Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: hurt/comfort, sadness, medical issues, parental illness, chronic pain, mention of opioids, wheelchair use, anger, panic attacks, discussion of suicide

A/N: This is something deeply personal that’s been living in my drafts for almost a month now. But I’m a big believer in cathartic writing, especially when things feel too difficult to talk about. 🖤

It’s mid-afternoon, bright and unseasonably warm for early April. Sunlight filters through the horizontal blinds, and not for the first time, you remind yourself that you still need to buy curtains for the window directly facing your bed.

For now, you settle for burrowing beneath the covers, two plush comforters layered on top of you. Your head is nearly hidden, and it feels good to rest your eyes after crying.

You doze for a little while, unsure how much time has passed when you hear the bedroom door open.

Your boyfriend is unusually quiet as he enters. The opposite side of the bed dips as he lifts the covers and slides in to join you. As he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, you exhale shakily, relaxing against his rangy figure.

“Baby,” Shinji murmurs, nosing at your hair. “You tryin’ to hide from me?”

A small huff of a laugh escapes you. “If I were, I’d try harder.”

When he hesitates, you know he can hear it in your voice, the way it cracks a little, how it wavers, thick with emotion. Even now, you’re trying to keep more tears at bay. It seems you have an endless supply.

Blinking several times, you focus on the familiar scent of his shampoo, the feel of his narrow hips pressed against you, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and the softness of his words nearly breaks you. You rarely see this side of him, and only ever when you’re alone.

His breath warms your neck as he gently implores, “C’mon, sweet girl… Tell me.”

That’s all it takes for your walls to come down.

Your mother’s had health problems for as long as you can remember. But in recent months, her level of pain has severely escalated, to the point where even strong opioids like fentanyl aren’t giving her enough relief.

“It doesn’t make sense that you’re in so much pain,” she’s been told. Never mind that her back is a mess — so much so, that she can’t even lie down anymore. She sleeps sitting up. Your father pushes her around the house in a wheelchair.

It’s inoperable. It’s just a matter of figuring out how to mitigate the pain. But no one can even seem to do that, and every test leads to another and another, her calendar full of appointments that leave her in tears.

By now, you’ve rolled over onto your other side so that you can face Shinji, and you’re frustrated that you’re crying so hard, your hands fisted in the back of his shirt as you hug him tight.

You hate feeling so helpless. You want to scream at someone. Beg them to figure it out. Make it stop. Fix this. Fix her.

“Look at me, baby… There you go, I’ve got you.”

Distantly, as if every sensation has been dulled just a little, you feel Shinji’s hand on your cheek, his thumb tucked under your chin as he tips your head up.

“Take a deep breath, okay?” He inhales exaggeratedly, and you might think it funny if you weren’t nearly hyperventilating, on the verge of a panic attack.

It’s not the first one you’ve had today. That probably explains how it came on without you consciously noticing. Having it happen here, with him, is better than what you struggled through earlier, hunched down in your car after brunch with friends.

You had picked at your food and done your best to pretend, smiling at jokes and stories, contributing when necessary. Because you were afraid of ruining the fun — and you knew you would cry, just like this — you kept quiet and bottled it all up.

Slowly, you do as he says, your breaths staggered and rough at first, small hiccuping sobs escaping you now and then. But after a few minutes, your light-headedness begins to ease, and your heartbeat feels less frantic.

Shinji smooths his hand over your hair, looking at you with concern.

“You didn’t want to worry me.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you immediately feel guilty.

“I’m sorry.”

His mouth twists into a grimace. “I get it, I do. But you can’t not talk about things like this. It’s only hurting you more.”

Taking another deep, shaky breath, you nod. “I think I just… didn’t know how to say it. Any of it. It’s too much, and there’s — and I — I d-didn’t —”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

Holding the back of your head, his fingers splayed wide, he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m not mad. I just want to be here for you.”

Your hands have moved to his chest now, grasping at the front of his shirt like an anchor. You need to feel something — to feel grounded in this moment.

“I’m so angry. And heartbroken. And scared — so fucking scared. I don’t know what to do with it all.”

He nods, and there’s a glimpse of pain in his gaze as he recalls what that feels like, to be full to the brim with a feeling so devastating, you wonder if it might burn you from the inside out.

“You want to be in control of things, to figure out how to make it all better,” he says, as if he’s cracked you open and read you like a book.

“And I wish you could,” he whispers, pulling you back into his embrace. This time, your head nestles beneath his chin, and one of his long legs tangles with yours, as if he needs to be as close as possible.

“It’s not fair.” Another sob wracks your body as you speak, your chest aching so badly, you wonder if you’ve strained something.

“It’s always one thing after another, and she c-can’t keep going like this. How is she supposed to live? It’s like no one cares, and everything takes so l-long, and I…” You swallow hard, his shirt growing wet with your tears.

“I know she’s not their mom, but she’s my mom, and I don’t understand why everyone’s just waiting around while she’s in agony — so much that she… she might…”

Out of everything your dad told you over the phone, what made you feel cold, sick to your stomach, devastated in a horrible, hollow way, was that your mother has told him more than once that death must be better than existing like this.

When you explain as much, you feel Shinji stiffen with shock before he pulls you in even closer, his own shoulders hunched as he struggles to keep his composure.

“You’re doing everything you can,” he finally says, his words spoken with a firm certainty. “All we can do is take it day by day.”

Before you can protest, he gently shushes you, kissing the top of your head.

“It’s shit, I know… A fucking cliché. And you’re right. It’s not fair. Not at all. But you don’t have to go through this alone. I won’t let you.”

You’re grateful that he doesn’t tell you everything will be okay. While the optimism of the sentiment seems like a kindness, it ultimately feels empty, as if the impossibility of it is too much to ignore.

Shinji’s never been one to sugarcoat things or make promises he couldn’t keep. You’re grateful he isn’t starting now.

She might spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. She might spend the rest of her life in debilitating pain. As much as it pains you to think about, you can’t hide from any of this.

“You should rest tonight. Give yourself the space to feel what you’re feeling, as much as I know you don’t want to.

“We’ll drive over first thing tomorrow. Knowing your dad, he’s not eating a hell of a lot. We can pick something up on the way — stock their fridge, cook a few meals. Help out with the cleaning, all that stuff.”

You pull back just enough to look up at him, a swell of love making your chest ache. To anyone else, he might look pissed off, wearing a frown as he continues to mutter to himself, thinking out loud — something about blankets and finding a good pillow for her lower back and a book he could maybe read to her while you and your dad talk through any recent developments.

He makes a startled noise when you bury your face in his chest, feeling overwhelmed by gratitude.

“Don’t go cryin’ again,” he teases, ruffling your hair. “My shirt’s already soaked.”

“It’s ugly anyway,” you mumble, knowing that he knows you’re only kidding.

“Hey.”

You stay like that for a long time, until the sun has sunk lower in the sky and your breathing has finally evened out, your eyes growing heavy. When you whisper that you love him, Shinji squeezes you a little tighter.

“I love you, too.”

#reeeeally gonna try not to delete this later 🙃#shinji hirako x reader #tw medical issues #tw chronic pain #tw suicide

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filthforfriends · 1 year

Text

The Hybrid (Part 3)

Read parts 1 & 2 on my Masterlist

Damiano x Thomas deranged Omegaverse

Word Count: 5.8k

CW: Gratuitous, self-indulgent, sacrilegious hurt/comfort mentioning domestic abuse

Vic: Weird question but is Damia with you by any chance? He stood me up for lunch today & he’s not answering his phone.

Vic: Hey just remembered you’re working, sorry! I’ll just go bother him he probably forgot.

Vic: Oh my god Thomas call me

“Hey its, Victoria, call me when you get this is really important. It’s about Damiano, the security force is here.”

“Hey it's me again. I’m taking him to the hospital and he’s asking for you. I don’t think he’s too hurt.”

Vic: The doctors are evaluating Damiano (check your fucking voice messages). Why aren’t you answering??? I know you’re off work

Vic: HES ASKING FOR YOU

“Thomas, I can’t deal with this alone. So call me soon, or I’ll call Ethan. You better have an excellent fucking excuse.”

“Hey, it's Ethan. Victoria told me to tell you to call her. What's going on?”

Ethan: Is Dami hurt? Victoria sounded really upset, but she said she needed your help. Let me know that everything is okay, please.

Thomas had silenced his phone for a private music therapy session. He ended up talking to the parents for 45 minutes afterwards, giving them assurance more than anything else. Feeling excellent about his day, Thomas turned his phone back on to check his messages and had an actual panic attack. He crouched down, aching pain in his chest, feeling sick, and called Victoria.

“What the fu -”

“Work ran late, I’m so sorry. Where is he?”

“He insisted we go back to his place, but he’s been regressing. Like he’s not even verbal.”

“I’m coming now!” Thomas tripped over his own feet, grabbing his keys, wallet, coat, and scarf from various places in the room.

“Uh, okay. I’m - I’m not sure what to do right now. He demanded we go home, but maybe I shouldn't have listened to him. I just wasn’t sure what, what…” Her voice breaks and Thomas can barely breathe.

“What the fuck happened!?” He takes the steps two at a time, while trying to stuff everything into his pockets.

“Damiano basically rid every trance of Samuel’s scent from the apartment and his nest smells like someone else.” Thomas’ stomach dropped. For a second he struggled to speak.

“Wh – wha – but they’re not exclusive.”

“Yeah, but they had a fight and Damiano told him to just get out, that he didn’t want to bother with the dynamic anymore. Said he didn’t get anything out of it, and he’d lost interest.” Victoria paused, sighing, and her tone changed. “It was all very sudden, I think he just snapped, it's not like there was much romance there. So Sam got all his shit together, but he roughed Dami up in the process.”

“What the –” Thomas drops his phone on the seat, while trying to maneuver everything into the car. “What happened? What – is he okay?”

“Bruises, and his face is a little messed up. Almost got a hairline fracture on his ribs. I didn’t think Samuel was the type.” But I did. The tears burned in Thomas’ eyes as he drove out of the parking lot. He should have known when Damiano flinched, he should have known. He should have pressed the issue.

“I didn’t think Dami was the type to stay with an abuser. He’s so strong.” Even as he said the words he hated himself. What kind of victim blaming bullshit mentality was that? No matter how powerful he may be, Damiano was an omega first and foremost. Forced into a subservient role by society, even he was subject to abuse. Thomas let out a sob on the phone.

“Hey he’ll be healed in a couple weeks.”

“No he won’t,” Thomas says through gritted teeth. “You don’t just get over that.” Despite himself, he lets out another sob and almost hits someone’s bumper.

“Hey Thomas, hey –”

“I should have answered the phone.” The visual of Damiano, in a hospital bed, asking for him, wounded and scared, plagues him. Thomas had to grip the steering wheel tighter because his hands were shaking. “I failed him, I fucking failed him. He was hurt and I wasn’t there. I should have known.”

“Hey Tom, it's not like you ignored this on purpose.”

“He was asking for me, and I wasn’t fucking here.” His voice lilts upwards at the end and cracks. He has to slow down because of the tears. “It’s my fault.”

“Thomas, just get here. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Oh, but I did.

“Okay, I’m gonna hang up, so I don’t crash.”

“Okay, we’ll see you soon. Breathe.” Thomas’ tunnel vision narrows as he bounds up the stairs, wrestling with the door. The lock had been knocked loose and shoved back into place.

“Damiano!” he calls out, already knowing where he is. Victoria is crouched down next to the closet, where the door is cracked open. Her mascara has long since dried on her cheeks and she looks shaken. Thomas drops to the floor and sees Damiano curled in his nest. He’s using the corner that contains Thomas’ dirty clothes as a pillow. Dami was trying his best to self-soothe, and Thomas’ scent was his mechanism. Yet, he’d had to go to the hospital without him. Having a fork put through Tom’s hand would be less painful than this visual and the knowledge that accompanied it.

“Cucciolo, hey, it’s me” he whispers, sliding the closet door open. Thomas crawls forward into Damiano’s nest, placing his limbs carefully.

“Tom, don’t -” disturb his nest. Victoria stops herself, as she places the new scent. Something so closely adjacent to Thomas’ that it couldn’t be anyone else.

“Thomas, what the fuck is that?”

“I really, really need you to not ask questions,” he emphasizes. “Don’t tell anyone, please, I’ll explain later.” What was worse: his hybrid status being revealed or Damiano being hurt? Thomas rubs his back tentatively, getting ready to curl himself around Dami, who shifts and looks up.

“Caro mio, I’m so sorry. I would give anything for it to have been me,” Thomas confesses. To take on Damiano’s pain so he didn’t have to bear it: there was nothing more appealing.

“Tommy?” He sits up, reaching towards him, with grabby hands, showing he wants physical touch. One of Thomas’ hands grasps his thigh and goes around his waist. He maneuvers Damiano onto his lap, but the closet is too dark to see his face. Holding him is like a piece falling into place. It's easier to breathe, Thomas can serve and nurture his omega now. Damiano straddles him, back turned to Victoria, and tucks his head against Thomas' neck. Thomas would do anything for him at this moment. Take a bullet, donate an organ he couldn’t live without, give him the last sip of what in the desert, or simply lay down his life in the place of his omega’s.

“I’ve got him, Vic. You can go, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here before.” As Thomas leans forward, Dami uses the opportunity to wrap his legs around him.

“Are you sure?” He can see the toll today as taken on her. Knowing its weight, she is resistant to dump it entirely on someone else.

“Yeah, absolutely.” This task should feel insurmountable, but Thomas is grounded by his role in Dami’s life. This was his intended place in the universe right now, to heal and love Damiano.

“This is exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he affirmed, rocking back and forth soothingly. Damiano would communicate when he was ready. Right now, he just needed to be held and made to feel safe.

“Okay, if you say so.” Victoria got up and collected herself, pacing through the apartment to locate all her belongings. She poked her head in once more, and lowered her tone to a whisper.

“How are you so calm?” she hissed, looking genuinely mystified. The answer to that question was more complex than he could explain in an hour, let alone a single sentence.Thomas kissed Dami’s temple a couple times as he thought.

“This feels more organic and affirming to me than anything else.” Victoria wanted to ask why so badly, but held off. “I’ll try explaining it to you another time. For now, I really need you to not tell anyone.”

“Not even Ethan?” Thomas was deciding how to answer this whan Damiano spoke up.

“No one,” he mumbled. Victoria seemed shocked to hear him verbalize at all, and nodded.

“No one,” she agreed. Thomas waited until she was out the door before scenting Dami. Tom tried to think loving, protective thoughts, not pure rage. That wouldn’t help his omega right now. Still, it was difficult not to let poison seep into his mind, fantasies about dismembering Samuel. Damiano moved his head to the other shoulder, allowing Thomas to scent both sides, who fretted over the idea of knotting. If Damiano asked, he wouldn’t be able to get hard given the situation.

Thomas’ heightened emotions reminded him of Damiano’s ability to help him regulate. During his last rut, he'd worked himself up into such a cloud of anxiety that he was only half present. Dami’s pheromones responded and quelled Thomas’ panic. Lilac was the smell of tranquility. So, he attempted to do the same for his omega. First he tried to evoke feelings of calm within himself, and when that didn’t work he searched for memories of his calmest moments. Chamomile tea with his mother at eight years old while she read him a story. Laying under his grandfather's piano while he played The Nutcracker.

He checked in with Damiano, who’s breathing was still ragged and who had twisted the fabric of Thomas’ sweater into his fists, hanging on for dear life. What was calming to Damiano? They’d spent their young adult lives not being too close. Their connection couldn’t be too intense or too satiating, or too natural. Otherwise Thomas’ hybrid status could be discovered.

Collectively, he’d spent hours watching Damiano when he couldn’t explore his feelings. Watched him sing, cry, argue, giggle, sleep, rant, sweat, and cum so hard he shook in Thomas’ arms. He’d watched him brush his teeth, restart his household’s router while cursing, dig through a pile of laundry for a sock, cook elaborate dishes then burn his hand and whine incessantly. He’d watched him wipe jizz from his abdomen, brace for the pain of a tattoo, lose his keys, fight with the clasp of a necklace, and struggle to open his favorite sauce because the seal on the jar was always so tight.

He came to know Damiano so well that Thomas took him into those fantasies. He and Damiano crawled under the grand piano, lay on their backs and felt the music move in the floor. They climbed out his parents bedroom window and onto the roof, watching the stars and space shuttles blink while smoking weed. They sat on his bed and listened to Spanish guitar tapes until their eyes grew heavy. They took a freezing cold walk on a coastal beach in the middle of winter, frigid wind biting at their cheeks.

Thomas took him into his earliest memory of serenity: a yellow comforter and soft lighting. It could have been a blanket fort or his parents bed, or the bottom of a linen closet. It was abstract, but something as deep in a person's psyche is bound to be. He took Damiano there, where it was warm, insolated, snug, and smelled of lavender drying sheets. Thomas kept him there, right next to his heart. As he held him, Thomas could feel that Damiano’s body had gone quiet, finally soothed.

It wasn’t without effort, however. Emulating calm for Damiano evoked the same mental exhaustion as doing calculus. It took all Thomas’ focus to hold steady, but it was worth it because Dami felt decent enough to scent him back. He started shifting in Thomas’ arms, no longer hunkered down for survival. Damiano sat up, forehead and nose pressed to his alpha’s, whose eyes were screwed shut in concentration.

“I’m okay.” His voice came out broken, Dami hadn’t spoken for hours between the tears. Thomas took this as permission to drop the mirage, and did so with a gasp, like breaking through the surface of water.

“That was so beautiful, thank you,” he cooed, a hand sneaking up the base of Thomas’ skull and into his hair. “How did you do that?”

“I just knew that you needed it, so I did. I’m not really sure where it came from,” he confesses. Even with his face shrouded in shadow, Thomas can see the wonder in Damiano's features. In those same features he searches for the damage that Samuel’s fist caused. Thomas must look sick with guilt, an expression so incongruous with Damiano’s affectionate admiration. Dami’s face falls into a scowl, realizing his former mate is soiling this moment as well.

“Thomas can we please just forget about this? My life isn’t ruined because I got punched one time. Remember how I used to wrestle with other kids when I was younger. I’m fine, I promise.” Damiano seems to actually believe the excuses he placates Thomas with.

“Get into the light,” Thomas orders in a monotone, his mouth clenched into a straight line and pursed in repressed anger.

“What?”

“Let me see you in the light, I want to see your face.” Damiano makes a noise of dissent as Thomas throws open the closet door and partially disentangles himself to reach the light switch. When he turns back to his omega it's very clear that he was hit more than once. Damiano has a swollen cheek, a cut right above his temple, and a bruise on his swollen jaw. He winces, not in pain but in the knowledge of what Thomas is currently looking at.

“Okay, one fight, but I’m still fine. Just ignore the bruises.”

“Ignore the bruises?” Thomas seethes. “You’re lying to me.” He didn’t want to direct any negativity towards Damiano, but out of all the situations he’d anticipated outright denial was not one of them.

“Everything’s fucking fine! I’m not lying to you,” he insists.

“Pull up your shirt,” Thomas deadpans.

“What does –”

“If everything was fine the security force wouldn’t have shown up. The lock wouldn’t be half torn off the door. Vic wouldn’t have taken you to the hospital. So show me your ribs, now.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you!” Damiano shouts, pulling as far away from Thomas as possible while still remaining seated on his lap.

“I know that, cucciolo! Because this is my fault, I did this!”

“Thomas, in what world –”

“You flinched, okay? You flinched that first morning when we were mating on the bedroom floor. And afterwards you didn’t seem to remember so a part of me didn’t want to deal with it because I couldn’t fathom existing in a world where you were anything less than cherished. It’s not a fight, Damiano, it's abuse! I know it happened more than once so if you’re honest with anyone let it be me.” Thomas was out of breath by his last word. The wave of guilt that stifled him settled in the pit of Tom’s stomach. This was not how he wanted to deal with this. He wanted to give a perfectly calibrated and reassuring reaction, where he held complete control over his emotions. Instead, he’s trying not to cry.

“Damiano, please forgive me,” he begs.

“You won't get it, because,” he sighs, not in anger, but in trepidation. “Because you’re not like the – because you’re a hybrid. You don’t have normal, or, I mean typical heats with alphas. You don’t understand how much control hormones have. Most omegas get roughed up once or twice in the course of their lifetimes while mating. It happens, because occasionally, certain alphas take things too far, use omegan biology to twist shit up.” Thomas thinks back to Victoria’s original reaction to finding Damiano and the language she used.

“This can’t be normal,” he insists, pulling Damiano closer. He scoots up on Thomas’ lap so their abdomens are pressed together, but avoids eye contact.

“This was the first time outside of heat that Samuel’s…this. He had an unfair advantage, hormonally. He’s supposed to go into rut pretty soon. And obviously I…” just went through an early heat with you. Damiano trails off, picking at his black nail polish, almost timid.

“So he roughed you up,” Thomas winces at his use of language, but outright calling it abuse may be too intimidating for Damiano right now. “When you were both hormonal?” Dami almost nods, but not quite.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be pushing the issue. We don’t have to talk about it right now, cucciolo.”

“You have to promise to still like me after I tell you this.” The pain in Damiano’s face is tenfold of what Thomas has encountered before. What could he say that would nullify Thomas’ affection so immediately? It wasn’t possible.

“Cucciolo, after all these years, you have to know that I could never just –”

“Promise me,” Damiano insists. At a loss, Thomas simply agrees.

“Okay, I promise.” Now that Damiano finally has permission to say whatever he needs to, the words catch in his throat. Perfect, peaceful Thomas would never see him the same again. How could he sacrifice that so casually?

“I – I, um,” he sighs in hesitation. Damiano hugs Thomas tightly, pressing his face into Tom’s neck as he speaks, too scared to meet his eyes. Without question, Tom holds Dami back, a soothing hand stroking his skin. His omega winced, feeling undeserving of such tenderness.

“We would fight, sometimes. Physically, I mean.”

“When you were both hormonal?” Dami nods his head. Seeking to understand, Thomas pulls back so he can read his omega’s face.

“The first time, I – god this is so fucked up,” he whimpers, hiding his trembling mouth behind a trembling hand. “The very first time, part of me liked it, the intensity. I never told him, but I thought Sam could sense it, which is why he did it again the next month.”

“So he’s been abusing you for a while?”

“It doesn’t really count though, because I started fighting back. Plus it wasn’t enough to leave a mark. I mean, until now. He’s never been this rough before.” Thomas nodded, and watching him attempt to process the information was more painful than the rest of it to Damiano. Sweet, non-violent Thomas, realizing he was with the type of person that answered aggression with aggression, instead of terminating the relationship altogether.

“Did you ever ask him not to, um –”

“Well, yeah of course. I didn’t just let him walk all over me, but maybe that would have been better. If I wasn’t going to leave at least I shouldn’t have stooped to his level.” Maybe then I’d still deserve you. That was the thought that always echoed in Dami’s mind: what would Thomas think of this? Would Thomas still desire his omega if he knew what kind of person Damiano was?

“How the fuck would not defending yourself be better?”

“I should have just left.”

“And there shouldn’t be institutionalized power dynamics between alphas and omegas that are practiced in our society above all reason. There shouldn’t be a biological advantage that trumps all personal autonomy.” There's a fierceness in Thomas’ eyes that Damiano expected, but didn’t anticipate being directed elsewhere.

“So you don’t think I’m a monster?”

“What the fuck!?” Thomas answers, in genuine shock. Damiano bursts into tears and catapults himself back into his alpha’s arms, far more relieved than he is saddened. It became immediately apparent that this is what Dami needed, to ugly sob in Tom’s embrace until the impulse passed.

“Caro mio, I would never judge you for this. I can appreciate the complexity of the situation. cucciolo,” he pledges. Damiano tries to take a breath, but it gets caught in his throat.

“I didn’t want you to think I was,” sob “like, into violence, or” sob “or something.” Sob. “Because you’re – you’re” sob.

“Amore, we’ve had sex before. Samuel isn’t the only one that knows what turns you on.” From the way his breathing pauses, it seems to be the first time Damiano has considered this. “In fact, I’d like to argue that I’m far more qualified to pass judgment on your sexuality and general character. Seeing as we’ve been hooking up since I was 16, and friends a year beforehand.” Thomas tries to coax Dami from where his face is pressed into his mate’s neck to no avail. He’s determined not to budge from his safe place, and clings incessantly.

“Caro mio, I think you’ve internalized a lot of bullshit from Sam because he was your mate.” Dami doesn’t respond, his mind too muddled by manipulation and ego to decipher its thoughts. “For example, we’ve been intimate for twice as long as you’ve known Samuel, but you’re so fearful that I’ll spontaneously share his views that you’re shaking. Bello, please stop shaking,” he pleads, voice pained.

Thomas never expected to see Damiano so broken down and gaslighted by another person. His strength seemed unmatched, but no one was immune to the societal repercussions, mental programming, and pheromonal manipulation that resulted from being born omega. In at least that aspect, Thomas’ hybridism had spared him.

“I don’t think you’re a violent person. There’s no evidence to support it. We both know your tendency to be mouthy has nothing to do with a desire to hurt me.”

“Of fucking course not,” Damino bites, punctuating his words with a pathetic sniffle.

“Mhm,” Tom agrees, soothingly. “I think you can be highly defensive and occasionally combative. However, I also know you’re self aware and this doesn’t come as a surprise to you.” Dami nodded his head, kissing Thomas’ scent gland, trying to gently elicit some light excretions that he could lap up with his tongue for comfort. The sensation startled Thomas and he jumped.

“Sorry,” Damiano muttered, adjusting his arms to make his hold more comfortable and less desperate. Secretly, Tom loved that his mate looked to his body for comfort. If the consequences hadn’t been negative for Dami, he also would have loved the fact that he rid his shared apartment of all other pheromones. It indicated an extremely intense attraction that Thomas could grow to share. Of course, he was still ignorant to the extent of Damiano’s emotions, for his own protection.

“I know you’re right,” he suddenly confided. “You just get so wrapped up in it and everyone sort of says it's normal. It’s really hard to separate.”

“Can you name a single time you’ve been violent towards me? In any way?” Damiano takes a deep breath and considers for only a moment before decisively shaking his head.

“Mm-mm.”

“Exactly, I’d even venture that you’ve most agreeable around me.”

“Well you’re really easy to get along with,” he confesses.

“Actually we’re just really compatible.” Damiano likes his comment so very much. He smiles wide, even nips at his alpha’s scent gland. He’d had so many fantasies about sharing a moment like this with Tom, yeared for it painfully for the last six years. Now that it was here, he struggled, but was forced to admit to himself that every alpha up until now was a placeholder. Damiano knew he couldn’t have Thomas, because it wasn’t safe, and he would never endanger him like that. In fact, he cared for Thomas so deeply that when the urge surfaced he was awash in self loathing. What triumphed was a primal need to protect and shelter him, because he was made vulnerable by Dami’s knowledge.

“So now that we’ve established that nothing Samuel says can be trusted because he’s obviously a piece of shit.”

“Yeah, I agree on that one.” Damiano is picking at his nail polish again instead of meeting Thomas' eyes. He feels suddenly foolish, having built up this confession in his head to something catastrophic, but Thomas is holding him the same way he was 10 minutes ago. There’s a special kind of nausea that settles in the stomach of a person when they realize they’ve been manipulated. Damiano had fancied himself too smart to be the victim of Samuel’s mind games. Yet, his entire world view was warped and his perception of his relationships poisoned.

“I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met.”

“I was so sure that you’d reject me. I don’t know how he got in my head like that, we didn’t even talk about you that much,” Damiano marveled, rubbing his face roughly. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so much clarity he wanted to seek. Yet the knee-jerk reaction every time Damiano opened his mouth was to question if Thomas would want him after he spoke. What was there even to say that would be so divisive? Damiano knew that it was irrational, yet the fear was so deeply ingrained that it overpowered logic.

Damiano had craved being Thomas’ boyfriend and mate for so long. To go through heat with Thomas, to have Thomas run to his side, speak his defense. They’d finally agreed that their relationship was inevitable. There was no point in resisting and making themselves miserable. Now, Damiano was free from prior obligations, he was in his chosen alpha’s arms, cherished by Thomas. And yet, part of him yearned for how things used to be, despite the past having no merits. Part of truly having Thomas was the ability to truly lose him.

When all previous relationships and partnerships had ended, he would cry over connection or even the love that was lost. Then Dami would go to Thomas’ to mourn, drink, receive comfort, eat, laugh, fuck, and cuddle. He’d mate with Thomas during his next rut, which essentially felt like pressing the reset button. If things with Thomas ended, he could lose him, and maybe even their shared friends. Damiano wasn’t a reflective person, but he was sure he wouldn’t survive that. There was nothing to survive for, an emotion so intense that he feared verbalizing it would spook Tom.

“Cucciolo look at me.” He hooked a finger under Dami’s chin, coaxing him to raise his gaze. “The most effective thing an abuser can do is isolate. It’s hard to leave someone if you feel they’re all you have. I’m going to keep reminding you that you have me and you will always have me, no matter what.”

“I know that,” Damiano answers automatically. Tom is silent for a moment, observative.

“Damia, I don’t think you do,” he says slowly, tone cautious. “If you were to become a monster right now, I would devote years trying to get you back, just based on who you’ve been in my life so far. You are endlessly lovable to me.” Endlessly lovable. No one had ever called him that, not dotting romantic prospects with the gift of language, not his wonderful parents. It was more powerful than saying you can do no wrong. Endlessly lovable means you can do wrong, but I will still want you always.

“If you ever have a question, just ask, caro mio. Deconstructing shit like this takes time.” He tucks Dami’s hair behind his ears. After weeks of not cutting it, the length was nearing his shoulders, and that's what Tom tried to focus on, not the swelling and discoloration.

“Hopefully not too much time. I didn’t even like the fucker that much,” Dami muttered darkly. Unsure of how to segway, Thomas takes a deep breath and keeps talking.

“I think we also need to face the reality that Samuel suspected, which means others probably do as well. Maybe we’re not as sneaky as we thought.” Thomas tries to say the words lightly, to cloak his panic at being outed.

“I swear to you, I didn’t say anything we didn’t agree on. I promise I am so careful, Tommy. I tried to never mention you, I –”

“I know.” Damiano speaks with such desperate intensity, but Thomas needs no additional affirmations. “But Samuel wouldn’t have spent so long turning you against a casual hookup, would he? He also failed pretty epically.” Dami looks down at the mess of intertwined limbs sat on their dirty sheets and snorts a laugh, then keeps laughing. Not because it's particularly funny, but because it feels good not to be crying. It feels even better to be wrapped around his mate in the middle of his nest and to have some body awareness returning.

“I’m sorry,” he chortles, “I’m like half lucid right now.” Nothing could compel Thomas to laugh, but seeing a break in the tension at least prompts a genuine smile. It only sort of looked like a grimace.

“What were the doctor's directions?”

“Rest, ice, disinfectant twice daily. I can pick up some of that Tachyangiogenisis ointment from the pharmacy if I want to speed it up.”

“What about referrals?”

“For what?”

“Domestic abuse recovery?” Damiano huffs in aggravation. “I work in the alternative pediatric psychiatric therapies, but I’m sure that I could help you find someone –”

“I don’t need anyone in APPT, Thomas. Hitting a couple keys on a piano isn’t going to change what happened.” Thomas continues on, unaffected, as though Damiano hadn’t just insulted his entire field of treatment.

“I’m sure I could help you find someone in an appropriate medical sector if it feels too overwhelming right now,” he finished. “Sensory overwhelm is a totally normal reaction and I want to help in every capacity I can.” Damiano sighs and bites his cheek in shame.

“That was a really dickish thing to say, Thomas. I didn’t mean it at all.”

“I know.” Children who lacked verbal ability due to developmental variation or lacked the language to describe a traumatic situation were often Thomas’ clients. Piano, usually, but often other instruments, allowed them to describe their emotions in a detailed, precise fashion, where there was no external pressure. What made the session therapeutic was largely Tom’s patience and unequivocal kindness. He was born with a wonderful temperament, and just his two syllable response was a reminder of this. Damiano loathed himself for lashing out.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean it! I don’t think that at all. I really don’t, you’re so perfect for your job and all those families are lucky to have you.”

“Dami –”

“I mean you devote your life to helping people, what's more admirable than that? And I know the science is sound, I do. I’m not some uneducated skeptic that shits on people of better character and moral fiber. I’m not. I’m fucking not! I’m just really, really sorry –”

“Shh, it's okay.” Damiano has Thomas’ shirt gripped in handfuls of fabric again, pulling it taut to bring Tom close in this moment of desperation. His eyes are panicked and their foreheads are pressed together.

“I’m sorry and I’ll go to therapy if you think it’s right. I trust you.” Dami looks into Tom’s eyes and sees such softness. He rocks back and forth, shushing him, and running a hand slowly up and down his back, such a juxtaposition to Damiano’s thundering heart rate.

“I don’t know why I said that or why I can’t just shut up.”

“Because you’re totally deregulated and need the help of your mate to stabilize.” Damiano falls against him once again. When he sucks on Thomas’ scent gland, Tom lets him. He tries not to flinch from sensitivity. Having gone practically untouched here his whole life, the sensation took some adapting to.

“I’m here, cucciolo. Give me the reins for a couple days.” Dami nodded, his nervous system finally taking a step below absolute terror survival mode.

“You need to eat and sleep.”

“Not here. There will be an officer outside the building until they’ve arrested him, but I hate the smell.” The word is spoken with intense disgust. “Can’t we just go to your apartment?” Where everything will smell perfect and I’ll be surrounded by impeccable nesting materials.

“If Samuel’s figured it out, and remembers where I live, my place isn’t safe either.”

“Vic’s?”

“No. I’ll call my mom,” he sighs. Dami moves off his lap so Thomas can get his phone from his pants.

“I can’t compromise her safety too! I’ve already put you in danger,” he sniffles, face distressed.

“You are not doing anything. My mother put herself in danger 21 plus years ago when she decided not to treat my Primary Gender Dysmorphia. She has spent my life making me internalize that fact. So no, you are doing nothing.” It was only then that Damiano understood the strength of not only his mate, but his blood line. Thomas had grown up knowing that someday his identity would be discovered, and he would be persecuted, but he lived anyway. His mother, a woman only a few years older than Damiano was now, willingly put the rest of her life in danger to preserve her child's autonomy. She made her entire life into an act of protest. There is no strength like being a warrior with unconditional, soul-deep kindness in place of a bloodied sword. With no shield, only the best of intentions and a gentle hand. The only thing more difficult than being hardened, is to be soft, strengthen unchanged.

“Hey, mom, Yeah, I’m good, I was just wondering if I could come pick a couple things up? Yeah I left my blue sweater there last time and I need two pairs of socks. Mhm, okay, yeah we’ll stay for dinner. Love you, bye.” Immediately Thomas turns to Damiano. “I need you to wear a blue sweater under your clothes for my mother’s sake.”

“Yeah, of course!” he enthusiastically agreed, happy to be able to do something. “But, um, why?”

“Because I’ll carry it on the way back. If I get detained it won’t look like we were using code.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you!” he cries out.

“We don’t know how much Samuels pierced together, or how much he’ll say when they find him. Damiano you need to know something.” He cups his omega’s face between his large hands and holds Dami’s gaze with a burning intensity. “No matter what happens, I chose this. The consequences are worth it. It is not your fault.”

“This can’t be happening,” he whimpers, eyes welling up again. This is my life. To someone who’d lived in normalcy, the amount of risk involved in just existing semi-authentically for Thomas was totally overwhelming. He searched for the right words, and found nothing but a whirlpool of panic in his mind. So instead of speaking, he kisses Damiano, just a brush of lips, then up the bridge of his nose to his forehead. For a minute they just breath each other in, synching each inhale and exhale.

“It’s time to go.”

Notes: I rarely write stuff this heavy, which is why I originally was only going to post The Hybrid on AO3 since that place is a cesspool (affectionate). But having different fics on different platforms felt ridiculous so here it is. Message me to be removed from this fics taglist.

-XOXO Eden

taglist: @blackberryblossom @bobfood @butkutee @bohemianrainbow @cuzimitaliano @daisy0gf @elvirabelle @gr8rainbowpunk @harryssshouseee @hiraetheral @iamtashaquinn @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @kammerstx @l0standn0tf0und @little-moonbeam-666 @lizzylynch1 @maneslut @minnietmouse @mortyandem @obiw4n @que--sera--sera @slavicgoddess13 @stardustingold @teenyweenynightghost @thegeminisgirl @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia @bieberhoodforever

@ursulalurks bestie I do not know wtf is going on, but I still can't tag you. All I can recommend is contacting Tumblr Help, sorry. <3

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a-polite-melody · 2 years

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Well that post I just reblogged (there are probably other posts there now that my queue popped out but yeah) brought back a memory from when I was like… around 12 years old, I think?

I remember we were at some of her friends’ cottage, and those friends had… three kids I think? Important thing is that there were some either close to my age or older, and there was one who was 5ish.

I was sitting at the end of a couch with my back turned to the arm rest, and I was talking to my mom and someone else… anyway, not entirely important, mostly important that my back was to the arm rest and there was conversation going on. And without any warning, I have something jump onto me from behind making a bunch of noise. I turned around and reflexively put my hands up to block my face, and my fists clenched.

…and my mom tried to ground me for threatening to punch a 5 year old.

It took a while but I eventually did get her to listen to me and like… see my perspective of having been startled because I didn’t see or hear the 5 year old until I was jumped on, and that reflexes work faster than the brain can register, “oh hey, the thing that jumped on me isn’t a predator trying to eat me, it’s a small child trying to play.”

That was some actual bullshit. And very much indicative of how my mom treated me when other children were around. When a friend sleeping over had a night terror (I was… 7? 8?) which also woke me up in a completely terrified state, she spent a long time comforting my friend (my mom’s boyfriend was trying to calm me down), and when she finally came downstairs and saw me sobbing she gave me no comfort, and made some comment I don’t exactly remember except for remembering that it hurt and then I told her I felt like she didn’t love me, which had her sign me up with a psychiatrist (instead of realizing the problem there wasn’t with me, even if I did have mental health stuff going on, the problem here was her). She tried grounding me for doing something my (kind of) step sister had literally just done right before me and she’d laughed at.

She was just… so fucking focused on how other parents would judge her that she disregarded her own child. And I’m not sure she realized she was doing it. But I could feel it.

And that post I made that blew up about how scream-crying kids aren’t doing it to make their parents lives harder? I put in “lives harder” to make the post more general, but I initially wrote it with “look bad” because that’s a lot of how I feel my mom’s parenting of me ended up conveying—I was an embarrassment and making her look bad (and making me feel like that only added to whatever other big feelings I was having (which were probably from sensory overload because my autism wasn’t even recognized, much less accommodated for, in my childhood)).

#about me

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breathingwithdifficulty · 1 year

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this has been a rough season for holidays, i think. mostly because of my mom (also partially because of my dad and the fact that he’s got a whole ass fiancee now that im still lowkey trying to come to terms with but). i haven’t seen her in months. before labor day, and now it’s thanksgiving. i don’t feel like im particularly missing out on anything really but its just kinda a bummer to have that sort of pressure and loss floating around during the holiday season, yaknow? i already kinda feel weird about the holidays at the age that im at now that my parents aren’t together but them not being together and me not talking to my mom kinda just exacerbates the whole thing.

the last time we texted was for me to ask her for a picture of my insurance card so i could go to the eye doctor, and that was the beginning of october. she hasn’t asked me about my thanksgiving plans, hasn’t invited me over, hasn’t said anything. and part of me feels like she’s waiting for me to reach out, which, well, i could, but like should i have to? i feel complicated about it. because the last extended interaction we had was a text conversation wherein i told her off for drunk texting me and being pissy about me not visiting her while im in town. i ended up ignoring her for a couple weeks until she texted again about my grandma and then i responded and told her she hadn’t heard from me because i needed space. and something about that makes me feel weird because she never said anything to it. like literally nothing. and i wonder if the reason (or, well, part of the reason) she hasn’t asked about thanksgiving is because she’s still trying to give me space?

that’s what half my heart says - the half that is probably thinking unrealistically about it. but the other half is much darker and says she hasn’t reached out because she doesn’t want to - she’s done, she’s fed up, she doesn’t want to see me for thanksgiving. maybe she ashamed? or irritated? or depressed? or maybe she really does has some misplaced sense of needing to give me space, i don’t know. it just makes me feel weird and twisty inside - like i need to reach out and if i don’t then this whole gap between us is my fault because i didn’t communicate the fact that she can reach out clearly enough. which sounds ridiculous now that i write it out.

like, it can’t be entirely my fault that we’re not talking because if she really wanted to see me, she would ask. i mean, she would, right? i think so? but she hasn’t so that raises the question... why doesn’t she want to see me? there’s some little girl inside of me that’s crying and seven years old and eleven years old and watching her mom leave her while she sobs and it’s making me sad. i shouldn’t be reflecting on this so late - i still need to shower and i have to get up early but fuck it’s hard not to think about when im alone like this.

i don’t miss the my mom of now. that’s the hard part to explain to people - my sister, my dad, my therapist. i don’t even really miss my mom of the past either, which is harder to explain. i miss my mom of the before. when things weren’t great but i was too young to realize that they weren’t great so it was fine. because now even positive memories i have with her have been tainted because i realize what was going on in the background (and, sometimes, even, the foreground). and now i don’t have any space to make new memories like that because it almost feels like our relationship has been irreparably damaged. like i don’t feel comfortable hugging her. i can’t speak freely. her home is not my home and she doesn’t know my friends or my classes or my people or me. and it’s like i don’t even get to teach her.

my best friends of 3 years still haven’t even met her. the friends she has met in the past (for the most part), im not even friends with anymore. she’s never been inside my car. she’s never seen me move in. she hasn’t met my roommates or been to campus or met my dads fiancee or this and this and this and that and it just feels like i am a new person. and yet it still feels kinda like she’s trying to fit me into this small box of her tiny girl and im just fucken not. im grown now. not really truly, but getting there.

i wish i had a better relationship with my parents. i know this post is about my mom but thinking about her makes me think about my dad because i miss the him of before too. i miss the him of the between - when things were good between him and i really felt like he was my rock but i also had almost all of his focus because he hadn’t met his fiancee yet. now it just feels like a competition that im losing.

god im spiraling. my chest feels tight and now im so much sadder than i was. i went to a friends house and hung out there for literal hours (a weird thing sense she lives with so many people and we almost always just hang at my house) and it was so quietly baffling to experience how welcoming and supportive her mom was. like she had her moms undivided attention whenever she wanted it. like yes they bantered and teased and bickered and it was fun and made me laugh a lot but her mom also listened to all her little pointless stories and even asked questions and she even turned to me and offered food and snacks and drinks and advice. like she literally sent me home with a container of rubbing alcohol because we spent 15 mins looking at my infected ears. she looked up piercing places online for me. she gave me food and care and obviously i didn’t say anything excessive then but now im literally crying about it and i would text my friend and tell her that her mom being nice really means a lot but me and her aren’t like that so i won’t. but i really hope she knows because it really does make a difference especially to me.

and now im crying.

there was a lady on campus giving out free mom hugs the other week before break and god when i say it stuck with me for days. i don’t even feel like i miss my mom because i don’t miss the her of now but i miss the her of before and i feel like i will truly never get that again and it breaks my heart every day. i miss my parents.

3:18AM

11.23.22

#depression tw #i dunno what else just sad parent stuff #inner child #.mine

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folklorelise · 3 years

Text

The cadets are turned into kids and think you and Levi are their parents (2)

Here is PART 2 of this!

MASTERLIST

— You were mad at them.

Since the cadets turned into kids you were more stressed than usual – between taking care of them all, doing your paperwork in time and helping Hange with theirs, it was a lot. Adding to this, your sleeping hours were cut in half as well due to kids never sleeping. You were overwhelmed and on edge, ready to snap at any moment.

“Levi,” you called him after lunch, “can you watch over the kids for a few hours? I–.” you took a deep breath, “I just have to take a bath and rest a little bit… it won’t be long!”

“Of course, take your time.” Levi kissed your forehead before leaving your room.

Levi went to the children’s room while you went to relax a bit.

“Where’s mommy?” Eren asked when Levi came in alone.

“She’ll come later.”

“I want mommy now!” Jean shouted frowning.

“Stop whining or she won’t come here at all.” Levi told them which made them all shut up.

They continued to play together when Jean came to Levi. He struggled to climb on the couch but succeeded and sat on Levi’s lap. He turned around so he could face Levi and asked.

“When is mommy coming here?”

“I don’t know.” Levi answered calmly.

“Play with us then!” Jean pouted. “Come with us.” Jean stood on Levi’s lap when Levi ignored him.

“No. Sit down or leave.” Levi told him in a harsh tone. “No, don’t cry.” Levi’s voice softened when he saw Jean’s tears. “I’ll come and play ok? Just… don’t cry.” Levi stood up with Jean in his arms.

For a few hours, Levi had to play dolls with the kids who were really into it – imagining complex stories, doing voices etc. It was dinner time when they all started to get tired of playing.

“Where’s mommy?” Armin asked shyly.

“Aren’t you all hungry?” Levi quickly changed the subject.

“Yay!” they all shouted.

“I’ll go grab something to eat then, don’t move.” Levi ordered before leaving the room.

When Levi left the room, Eren stood up and told the others that he was going to look for you. Sasha, Connie, Mikasa and Armin were against the idea knowing that Levi would not be happy about it, then there was Jean who agreed with Eren.

“Fine, we’ll leave without you!” Eren opened the door with difficulty.

Mikasa quickly followed Eren and Jean as well as Armin because lately, Armin got the habit of following or imitating Jean. Wherever Jean went, Armin would follow – whatever Jean was doing, Armin would do the same. Jean felt irritated when Armin follow or copied him, but he never said anything. He did once – the first time – and Armin cried which made Jean felt bad and he swore never to make Armin cry again.

“Where is mommy?” Armin asked.

“I don’t know.” Eren said.

“Just go to her room.” Mikasa commented.

They all run to your room and it was not locked. You were trying to sleep in your bed after a few hours of work when you suddenly heard the kids yelling.

“Mommy!” Jean yelled, jumping in your bed.

Meanwhile, Levi immediately regretted his decision when he came back to only two kids out of six. He asked them where the rest of them went and Sasha told him that they were looking for you. Levi took them with him and directly went to your room. Armin and Mikasa were clinging onto you while Jean and Eren were shouting and jumping on the bed.

“Stop jumping on the bed or you’ll break it!” you desperately tried to stop them.

“Eren! Jean! Stop.” Levi ordered in a harsh tone which made them immediately stop. “Y/N,” Levi said more softly, “are you ok?”

“Is mommy sick?” Sasha asked.

“No.” you said.

“Then come play us!” Eren shouted.

“Stop screaming.” you warned him. “And let go of me.” you told Armin and Mikasa but none of them listened to you.

“Kids, come here and let’s go.” Levi tried.

“NO!” Eren shouted loudly, “MOMMY! Come play with us!”

“Mommy!” Jean joined Eren.

“Stop calling me that!” you shouted back which made everyone shut up, “I am not your mother so all of you… just –.” you felt tears falling down, “stop.”

“Mommy?” Mikasa whispered worried.

“I heard shouting outside.” Erwin came in. “What’s happening?” he asked worried.

“Take the kids with you.” Levi said. “And close the door please.”

Erwin did not questioned Levi’s request and took the kids with him in his office. None of the kids wanted to leave you, but Erwin easily took them in his arms. Levi walked to you and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey, it’s ok.” Levi murmured. “Let’s sit down.”

Levi brought you to bed and sat next you and let you cry on his shoulder. He would just hold you close to him until you stopped crying.

“I feel like shit.” you sobbed. “The kids probably hate me by now too.”

“They don’t.”

“Did you hear what I said? Th-they’re kids! And I- I just yelled at them.” you lamented, “I am the worst mother ever, and they’re not even my real kids!”

“I’m sure everything will work out.”

Erwin on his way to his office with the children saw Hange and brought them with him. Erwin, with Hange’s help, tried to cheer the kids up but they would not stop crying – they wanted to be with you and Levi.

“Is mommy going to leave us?” Armin sobbed.

“No!” Erwin said quickly.

“Y/N, she loves you all very much.” Hange said. “But you have to understand that she was… mh… very tired and she had a lot of work to do.”

“And sometimes,” Erwin continued, “you just have to let that person alone.”

“We have to leave mommy?” Connie asked.

“Yes,” Hange said, “but not forever. It would just be for a day so she can rest.”

“Is mommy not going to be our mommy because we made her upset?” Jean asked shyly.

“No, of course not.” Erwin reassured them. “I’m sure she’ll come back soon.”

Erwin and Hange stayed with the kids until night before Levi came in to put them to bed. Once they cleaned up and changed, they all went to bed without protest.

“Ok, I’ll turn off the lights.” Levi walked out.

“Daddy.” Armin called him before he closed the door, “Is mommy not going to say goodnight to us?”

“She’s n –.” Levi thought about it, “I’ll go and ask her.”

Levi came back to your room and you were already laying in bed, comfortably installed under the blanket. Levi sat next to you and rested his head on your stomach.

“The kids want to see you.”

“Aren’t they upset?” you worried, putting your hand through his hair.

“No, they’re just… they want to see you.”

“I should go then.” you stood up. “I’ll be right back.” you kissed him before leaving.

You walked very quickly toward the kids room and when you opened the door, you noticed they were all still up even though the lights were off. Sasha was the first one to see you and she jumped out of the bed to hug you.

“Hey.” you smiled, kneeling down. “Aren’t you sleepy?”

“No.” Sasha smiled.

“Let’s go back to bed alright?”

You sat down on the bed next to all the kids – they were all staring at you, waiting for you to talk first.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier.” you apologised. “I should never have yelled at you kids.”

“Don’t stop being my mommy please.” Eren frowned.

“We’re sorry mommy.” Jean said with teary eyes.

“No don’t be.” you comforted them, “I love you all very much.” you smiled.

You opened your arms and they all came to hug you, smiling and happy.

— They sleep between you two — captain dad and squad leader mum.

Armin:

Armin had a nightmare about you leaving for an expedition and not coming back to him. He had Levi coming back devastated and not talking to him or anyone. A stranger – someone from your squad – had to tell him the news that you were never coming back. He woke up panicked and ran to your room. You and Levi agreed that the doors to your room would always be opened if there were any problems.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Armin came in crying.

“Armin?” Levi woke up. “Hey what’s wrong?” he put Armin between you too.

“What’s wrong?” you asked still half asleep.

“Mommy!” Armin cried next to you which woke you up instantly.

“What happened?” you panicked. “Armin, it’s ok.” you patted his head, “I’m here.”

“You didn’t come back.” Armin sobbed.

“What?” you whispered looking at Levi.

“I don’t know.” Levi mouthed.

“Armin,” you wiped his tears away, “what happened?”

“Bad dream.” Armin sobbed harder. “You were n-not here and daddy was s-sad! An-and he wasn’t w-with me!”

“Armin, it’s ok.” you reassured him, “I’m here and daddy’s here too.”

Levi laid on the bed and put Armin next to him. You took the blanket and put it on the three of you and soon enough, Armin calmed down and fell back asleep. In the morning, Armin was found to be sleeping on top of Levi, with his hand resting on Armin’s back so he would not fall.

“This is too much for my heart.” you whispered to yourself.

Jean:

Jean had been feeling slightly sick for the past couple of days but did not tell anyone. He stayed in bed when it was time to eat dinner and you were worried at first which made you bring him dinner but he was asleep already. You brought back the tray and gave it to the kids who were not against the idea of eating more.

Jean woke up in the middle of the night, still slightly sick and extremely hungry. He discreetly go out of bed and went to your room. When Jean came in, he noticed lights were still on – Levi was still awake, probably working.

“Daddy?” Jean asked timidly. Which startled Levi.

“What are you still doing up at this hour?” Levi whispered, scared to wake you up.

“I’m hungry.” Jean admitted.

“Come here.” Levi put away his papers.

Levi took him in his arms and put him on the bed between you two which woke you up.

“Mh. What’s wrong?” you mumbled.

Jean turned his head toward Levi so he could answer for him.

“Jean’s hungry.” Levi said.

“Mh – I’m up.” you dragged yourself out of bed slowly. “I’m going to bring you some food alright?” you patted Jean’s head and noticed his forehead was a little hot. “Are you sick Jean?” you asked worried.

“No.” Jean answered.

“Jean, don’t lie. Are you sick?” Levi asked again.

“I don’t know.” Jean said looking at his hands playing with the blanket.

“Jean,” you said softly, “it’s ok. I’ll go and bring some hot tea too alright?”

You went to the kitchen and prepared some food and started to boil some water as well. You took two cups – one for Jean and another for Levi - and poured some water in it with the tea leafs. You put the smashed potatoes and the vegetables on a plate and put everything on a tray before going back to your room. Levi started to feed Jean while you prepared a cold towel for Jean.

“Jean, what did you forget earlier?” Levi said when you came back.

“Thank you mommy!” Jean smiled.

“You’re welcome baby.” you smiled back.

When Jean finished eating, Levi offered to cleaned it up while you put Jean to sleep. You thanked him and went back to bed. You put the cold towel on Jean’s forehead and laid next to him.

“You can sleep now.” you rest your hand on Jean stomach.

“Good night mommy.”

“Good night.”

“Good night daddy!” Jean said when Levi came back to bed.

Eren:

Just like Armin, Eren had a nightmare that night. When he first woke up, he tried to go back to sleep because he did not want to bother you nor Levi. But after thirty minutes of trying, he went to your bedroom. This time, both of you were asleep.

Eren hesitated a second about whether he should wake you up or not. He quickly decided not to and laid on the floor. Levi woke up not too long after Eren came in because he was thirsty. He only noticed Eren’s presence when he came back from the kitchen.

“Y/N.” Levi whispered

“Mmh?”

“Eren’s on the ground.”

“Mh.” you mumbled, “What?” you asked again a minutes later – your eyes wide open.

“Look.” Levi pointed at Eren.

“What is he doing on the ground?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bring him here.” you told Levi.

“You do it.” Levi argued.

“I’ll wake him up.”

“And I won’t?”

“You never did when I used to fell asleep in your office.” you reminded him.

“Fine.”

Levi miraculously brought Eren on the bed without waking him up and put him between you two. During the night, Eren ended up on Levi’s left side meaning Levi was in the middle. While he had his arms around Eren – so he would not fall – you had yours around Levi.

— Sasha and Connie would often sneak out and sleep with you and Levi.

— Mikasa never did. When she had nightmares she would only hug her teddy bear closer. She was scared to bother you. Once she did wake Sasha up and slept closer to her.

——————————

Shorter Stories

— Mikasa was known to be always quiet – she was afraid to bother people especially you or Levi. Even when she was hurt, she would stay quiet. Once during a meeting, she accidentality cut herself with a piece of paper. It was Eren, ten minutes later who had to tell you.

“Next time, you tell me immediately ok?” you told Mikasa as you cleaned the cut.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“You had to leave for me.” Mikasa explained.

“You are more important than the meeting, so next time just tell me alright?”

Mikasa only nodded and followed you back to the meeting.

— Jean is known to be a momma’s boy – he would always stay with you and play with you rather than Levi. He often cried when you had to leave without them. He loved to be held by you, he knew how to walk perfectly, but he would rather stay with you.

“Stop spoiling him.” Levi would often say to you.

“I can’t help it. Jean is adorable!”

When others were watching over the kids, you were the one Jean would be asking for, not Levi which surprised you when Hange came because Jean hurt himself while playing.

“Jean’s at the infirmary – nothing serious though!” Hange quickly added.

“I’ll go.” you stood up.

“Mh…” Hange stopped you, “he asked for Levi.”

“Are you sure?” you asked them.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” you gasped dramatically, “did you hear that?”

“What?” Levi asked ready to leave.

“My heart being broken by that kid.” you threw yourself back to bed.

When Jean got better, he immediately came back to you. You tried to be mad at Jean – in a playful way – but when you saw him nearly crying, you apologised and let him stay with you.

— The kids were staying with you in the morning, and it was decided that Levi would watch them after lunch because you had work to do with your squad. You were holding Eren in your arms and he refused to let go of you when Levi arrived.

“I want to stay with mommy please!” Eren cried holding onto you.

“Eren,” you calmed him down, “I will be back really quick, I promise.”

“Noo!” Eren cried as Levi took him.

Eren was desperately trying to hold your arms, but Levi was swift. Eren leaned over and grabbed your hair and pulled it which made you scream and lose your balance.

“Eren!” Levi yelled putting him down. “Y/N, are you ok?” he knelt down.

“I’m fine.” you reassured him, “it’s ok.”

“Mommy?” Eren hesitated.

“Eren,” Levi started, “go to your room with the others.” but Eren did not move, “right now!” Levi ordered.

“Levi.” you put your hands on his face, “I’m ok.” you turned to Eren who was now crying silently. “Eren, it’s ok, I’m fine.”

“’M sorry mommy!”

“It’s ok, now go with daddy and listen to him ok?”

Eren nodded and took Levi’s hand and left.

“Sorry daddy.” Eren sobbed.

“Mh.” Levi answered. “Don’t ever do that again am I clear?”

“Never!”

——————————

Short HCs:

— Sasha’s birthday happened that year when they were still kids. You all baked a cake together.

— Connie would often draw pictures of you all as a family during meetings.

— Erwin loved staying with the kids. He would often put them to bed.

— Hange loved the kids too – they would always play with them outside with Moblit, Mike and Nanaba.

PART 3 (coming soon)

#attack on titan x reader #attack on titan fluff #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #squad leader mom au #eren yeager x reader #armin arlet x reader #jean kirstein x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader #sasha braus x reader #connie springer x reader #platonic relationships!#levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman #snk x reader #snk #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #i couldn't fit everything in here so there will be a part 3!

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obsidiancreates · 3 years

Text

An Honest Talk

(Got to the episode where Valerie gets the ghost hunting stuff. I just want her to be happy and not Filled With Vengeful Rage so, here's this.)

Jazz sees the whole thing.

Really, Valerie isn't even good at hiding it. As soon as that Ghost Hunter shows up at that school game, Jazz figures it out. Not just because her voice is the same, but because of the insults she shouts while hanging in that basketball hoop. Sure, Jazz is in a higher grade, but she's heard that A-Lister group plenty of times in the hallways and after school.

They're real jerks. But not murderous jerks.

So she decides to do something about it. No-one attacks her baby brother. ... Well, except other ghosts. But Jazz can't always help with those.

This? No problem.

"Hey, Valerie."

Valerie jolts, yelping and almost dropping what is clearly some kind of ghost-detecting device. "Who are- ugh, aren't you Fenton's sister? What do you want?"

"To talk to you," Jazz says in her most empathetic voice. "I noticed you're having kind of a rough time."

"Why do you care?"

"Because my brother does." Cares about not being pummeled, at least. But Jazz is sure Danny hopes the best for his schoolmate, even with the attacks.

Valerie huffs. "Great, pity from the loser kids."

"Come on, it won't hurt to talk about it?"

"Talk about what? That some ghost kid and his dog ruined my life? That we're broke, and all my friends hate me for it? yeah, talking will fix everything."

Jazz sits down on a bench, and pats the seat next to her. Valerie looks away.

But then... she sighs. And sits. "I keep thinking about that five hundred dollar shirt I ruined. Maybe if e hadn't bought that, or I hadn't worn it to school, we'd be a little better off right now."

"It's not your fault."

Valerie grits her teeth. "Yeah. It's that ghost kid's."

"Ghost kid?"

"... You believe in ghosts, right? Because of your parents?"

Jazz nods. "Plus, that thing during the school game,, Kind of hard to deny."

"Heh. Yeah. ... That dog broke into the place my dad was working for. he was showing off what he did for their security, and none of it stopped the dog or the kid. And then they showed up again at the garage sale and wrecked our moving van, and the dog stole my lunch after all my friends rejected me!"

Valerie wipes her eyes, scowling. "It's not fair!"

Jazz hands her a tissue. "It's not, not at all."

"I wanna destroy that kid," Valerie growls. "Like he destroyed me."

"... Valerie... how old is he?"

"About my age, I think."

"And he's a ghost."

"Yeah. And?"

"So... how do you think a ghost kid comes to be?"

Valerie doesn't reply. But after a moment, her eyes widen a little. "Oh... no, no, but... but he's a kid. He can't be any older than me."

"Yeah," Jazz says softly. "So something horrible must have happened to him already."

Valerie looks at the device in her hands. "... But... he still ruined my life." She sounds a bit unsure now.

"Maybe he didn't mean to. I mean... imagine one day you wake up and everything is... different. Suddenly you've got no gravity, and-and no-one can see you sometimes and you're this weird thing-"

God, how scared was Danny when it happened? She's pretty sure by now that it was The Accident that did it, she can't think of anything else that explains it. What was it like for him, waking up as something different?

"It would be tough," Jazz finishes, looking at Valerie.

Valerie still won't meet her eyes, looking at the beeping device. "Then why is he following me around?"

"... Well... does he show up first, or the dog?"

Valerie thinks for a long moment. "... The dog. It's always the dog."

"So maybe he's trying to catch it."

"... I mean, I guess that could be it. But he's been fighting me!"

"And you've been fighting him."

"But-! ... Aw, geez..." Valerie deflates. "What do I do now, then? I can't... I can't keep attacking some kid who... we've barely lived, I can't just make it so that he's barely lived twice."

Jazz stands up and offers her hand. "How about we try talking to him?"

Valerie looks at her. "For real?" She's skeptical.

Jazz nods. "For real. Maybe we can clear some things up."

Valerie turns away again. And then, with a hefty sigh...

Takes Jazz's hand.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Cujo?" Danny calls out. "Cujo! We need to get you back to the Ghost Zone, buddy! Come on, where is he?"

Someone clears their throat behind him, and he yelps as he shoots up in the air.

He turns around, and sees possibly the worst thing he could see right now.

His sister, and his hunter.

"Hello, Ghost Boy!" Jazz calls out.

"Um... hi." Danny waves, still looking startled.

Jazz nudges Valerie, and Valerie huffs. "Hi," she says shortly. Jazz smile at her, though.

"I'm here to mediate a talk between you two," Jazz says, walking closer (and somewhat pulling Valerie along behind her). "I figured there might be more to this story than we all three think."

"Um, you're not- I mean, I'm a ghost, you're just... casual about this?"

Jazz nods. "My parents are well-versed with ghosts, this is nothing."

A straight-up lie. Jazz hadn't even believed in ghosts until she peeled Spectra. But maybe it's to save face for Valerie? Or maybe Jazz recognizes him as the ghost from that day.

"Anyway," Jazz says, "Valerie here has something to say."

Valerie, arms cross and back hunched angrily, glares at Danny. "Who are you, and why are you out to get me?"

Danny floats back down to the ground, standing on it now. "I'm, um... Phantom-"

Valerie gives him a disbelieving look.

"Uh, Ghost Names are uh, different! It's this whole thing. And, I'm not out to get you, I swear. It's all been terrible coincidences."

Valerie scoffs.

"Val, we're here to listen," Jazz reminds gently. "Let him explain his side of things, and then you can explain yours, and we'll come to a solution. Trust me, I read a book about this."

Danny doesn't doubt it. "I don't own that dog, I found him wandering around outside. I thought he was cute at first, and then he turned into the big dog that keeps haunting you."

"And why's he doing that?" she snips.

"I don't know yet." Danny rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I'm trying to send him back to the Ghost Zone, but he keeps coming back out! I'm starting to think it's some cliche 'unfinished business' thing. But until I can figure it out I don't know how to get rid of him. All I can do is try to minimize the damage."

"Doing a great job." Valerie rolls her eyes. "Ruining my father's business, ruining our garage sale, ruining my lunch!"

"I swear, I was trying to help! He's really, really hard to get under control! He's like five times my size!"

"And you can't grow bigger and handle it that way?" Valerie retorts.

"No! I'm only a few months into this, I-"

He cuts himself off at the look on Valerie's face. "What?"

"A few months? ... So... so I could've known you?" Horrified, is the best word for her expression.

Danny shrinks, holding his bicep and hunching a little. "Um, nevermind. I just mean I'm not super powerful."

"No, no, we're going back. Did I know you? Is this a revenge thing?"

"What? No! I already told you, I'm trying to help prevent things from getting worse! And... no. I'm a loser kid, and you're popular."

"... Was," Valerie says quietly. "... All my friends ditched me when I lost my money."

"That's awful."

Valerie nods. "I don't know why I thought they liked me for more than money, looking back. But it still hurts. Being a lonely loser is the worst."

"Tell me about it," Danny mutters. "I mean, I have friends, but sometimes some stuff just makes you feel alone no matter what."

He thinks he sees Jazz tear up at that, but he's not sure. He's distracted by Valerie letting out a sob.

"I don't have anything left," she says, voice quavering. "I don't have the popularity, I don't have money, I don't have the grades..."

"... So you turned to revenge?" Jazz's voice is soft.

Valerie sobs again, and Jazz gives her some comforting slow pats on the back. She looks at Danny, nodding at Valerie.

Danny gets the hint. "You... you could, um, make something, more?"

Valerie gives a somewhat bitter teary chuckle. "What is that supposed to mean, huh? I'm already hunting ghosts. It's... something."

"... You could try to make new friends."

"Oh sure, that's easy. I'm a social pariah."

"So am I. But even just one or two friends helps a lot."

"You got a lot of ghost buddies?"

"... Humans, actually. An if I can make friends with some high school kids as a loser and a ghost, you can make friends too. You just might have to lower your social radar a bit."

Valerie rubs her arm. "... You're really not out to get me, are you?"

"No, I'm not. I want to protect people, not hurt them."

"... I'm sorry I shot those missiles at you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep the dog contained."

"... I'm sorry you're a ghost so young."

Danny snuffles a little. "... Thanks." Sometimes he is, too.

Valerie looks at her hand, and then holds it out to him. "Truce? I won't mess with you. I can't promise the same about that dog if it keeps showing up, but I won't mess with you."

Danny sighs. "So you're keeping the weapons."

"Oh, you know I am. Even if I'm not hunting you, now that I know about ghosts I want to be prepared."

"I guess I understand that." Danny shakes her hand. "Truce."

Jazz grins. "See? Just needed a real, meaningful talk!"

Valerie laughs a little, wiping her eyes again. "Yeah, I guess. But... now what? Who do I blame for this?"

"Probably the boss who decided that Ghosts Suddenly Existing was your father's fault," Danny says.

Valerie's eyes harden. "Yeah. Yeah, I can go with that."

"But," Danny and Jazz say at once. They look at each other, and Jazz let's Danny speak.

"But," Danny says again, "Maybe focus on making some more friends, first. One thing about us losers, is we don't ditch someone just for money reasons."

"... I'll give it a shot." Valerie smiles a little at Danny. "With better aim than the ones I took at you."

Danny chuckles a bit.

They both wave goodbye, Jazz and Valerie leaving Danny to continue his search.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hi."

Danny, Sam, and Tucker all look up. Valerie is standing nervously with her brown paper bag of lunch. Tucker brightens up, and Sam gives a little, slightly suspicious, wave.

Danny scoots over. "Wanna sit with us?"

Valerie looks over at the A-Lister table. They're all staring, smirking, whispering.

Mocking.

She looks back at the 'losers'.

They're looking at her with... openness.

"Yeah. Sure."

She sits down, and gets out her lunch. For a minute, she just listens to them talk while she unpacks the sandwich.

"Hey, is that peanut butter and honey?" Sam asks. Valerie nods.

Sam holds up a thick roast beef sandwich. "My parents are trying to get me to eat meat again, but I'm staying vegetarian. Want to trade?"

Valerie blinks. "Uh... sure?"

They swap sandwiches. Valerie looks at the sandwich, mentally trying to figure out the carbs and calories and fat content-

She looks around the table. No-one else is analyzing their food. Or, judging hers.

She takes a bite. It's pretty good.

This... is pretty good.

She smiles, and laughs a little at a joke Danny makes.

Yeah. This is pretty good.

#danny phantom #Valerie Gray #Danny Fenton #Jazz Fenton #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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landoncrris · 2 years

Text

Good enough - Mason Mount x Reader

In which Mason comes home after a particularly frustrating match - based on yesterdays match against Brighton

Notes: I wrote this in the middle of the night so idk what i wrote tbh, also, it’s not proofread but i still wanted to post it + it’s my first time writing so pls have mercy bc i’m actually really scared to post this but whatever

Warnings: swear words, mention of crying, english is not my first language

Word count: 1.2k

You were forced to stay at home for a while because you got the flu and felt like you had been hit by a bus. Still, you couldn't have asked for anyone better to share your home with. Mason did everything he could to make you feel better, starting with staying home as long as he could and binge-watching every show you wanted. He also cooked for you at least once a day, drove to the pharmacy for you and got you almost everything they had to make you feel better, and he made sure that whenever he wasn't there, someone was there to keep you company.

Unable to support Mason from Stamford Bridge, you were now sitting in your living room waiting for the game to start. His parents offered you to come along so you wouldn't be alone and they could make sure you were okay while their son was away. As sweet as his mother is, she also made you a soup that she used to make for her children when they were younger and sick, swearing that it worked wonders.

The game wasn't that good though, it ended 1-1, with Brighton scoring in the last 5 minutes, you knew Mason would be really frustrated about that. Especially because he created - or had so many chances - but couldn't get the ball in, and of course the fact that Chelsea are not at their best at the moment because so many important players are out.

When you heard the front door open almost two hours later, you knew he was in an even worse mood than you thought, because he didn‘t come into the living room to greet his parents - or you. Instead, you heard him going up the stairs, which you shrugged of by saying that he probably just wanted to change quickly or go to the toilet.

When he didn‘t show up after a while, you decided to go and check on him. When you entered the bedroom, you saw him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

”Mase?“ you said quietly, whereupon he lifted his head to look at you, and that's when you saw the slightly reddened and tear-soaked eyes, so you crouched down beside him on the floor and put your hands on his legs. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“I actually don't really know, I'm just so fucking tired of all this shit,” he sighed, looking down at the floor, unable to bear to look you in the eye. You put your hands on his cheeks and try to comfort him, but he won't let you, gets up and walks around the room a few times because he obviously needs to get rid of his anger first.

“Fucking hell. You know, I'm really trying my best and it's just not working for me, those last goals are really great of course but they aren’t important, they didn't matter because we lost anyway and I feel like I'm the only one in this goddamn team who's really trying to play for the team sometimes and not for himself and yet there are fans talking shit about me and saying how much I suck even though I'm doing everything I can,” he said, his voice getting louder until he huffed and buried his face in his hands and leaned back against the wall as you got up again and went over to him.

“I just want to be good, Y/N/N, I just want to be good enough for the team,” he murmured against his hands, but you still heard his voice break at the end and a slight sob escaped his lips. Quickly you put your arms around his torso to test the waters further. When he didn't push you away or walked away as he had done a few moments ago, you hugged him and just wanted to hold him and comfort him as best you could.

When he didn't return the hug, you looked up at him and took a hand that was hugging him to take his hands that were still on his face and held them both in one of your hands close to your chest. You kissed the backs of both his hands before giving him a kiss on the cheek and right under his eye where some tears were still flowing. Then you let his hands fall back to his sides and put yours on the back of his neck to really look into his eyes and see the hurt in them.

“Mason, you're amazing. I'm not saying that because I'm your girlfriend, but because any true fan knows how important you are to the team,” you said softly, feeling his hands slowly move around your waist to your back, pressing you closer to his chest, and seeing a small, appreciative smile on his lips.

“There are always difficult times, but look at you, it's so important that you don't give up and still give your best, and that's what you're doing. By the way, I don't think your goals were for nothing, they showed that you are there, that the team can count on you, what the defence is doing is absolutely not your fault. So who are these people who are saying something bad about you? They don't know anything, they just want to blame somebody, they are not even real fans. So whoever is saying shit about you can suck my dick.” That made him let out a breathy laugh and your words stopped his tears, and even though your words weren't the most encouraging, the fact that you tried was enough to calm him down a little.

“Thank you, love. You're the best, seriously, I don't deserve you” You put a hand over his mouth and shake your head. “Wrong. You're the best.” He just smiled and as you pulled your hand away again to place it on his cheek, he leaned down to kiss you.

“Mase I am sick you will get the flu too.” But he ignored your words and just hummed and pressed a few kisses to your lips, not caring about getting sick, he just wanted to feel your soft lips on his. He pulled you even closer to him, if that was even possible, and you ran the hand that was on his cheek to the back of his head, playing with the short strands of his hair.

When he tried to put his tongue in your mouth, you pulled back, smiled and shook your head again. “Seriously, you can't be sick, the team needs you and I don't want to be the reason they lose ,” you whispered to him, to which he just pouted a little, making your smile even wider.

“I'll just go down and tell your parents to leave and then we can do whatever you want, yeah?” His lips turned from a pout back into a smile and he nodded, murmured a quick "Sounds good" and kissed your temple before loosening his arms so you could move.

You press one last kiss to his jaw before making your way to the living room. "Y/N?" said Mason just before you reached the door, you turned around to see him giving you a bright smile. "I love you"

„I love you more Mase“

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader

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juminsmysticmc · 2 years

Note

requests are open.? 👀

please ignore this if you're not comfortable doing this or have already done this! First, Hii how are you? ♡ hope youre doing great! I kinda wanna see a headcanon of how the rfa would react to mom mc feeling down and not being as cheerful and how they would comfort their children that their mom is okay (i hope it makes sense lol)

RFA comforting their child because they feel bad about Mc is feeling down

Hey there, the funny thing is that that day I actually took my car and ,,ran from home’’ ( like, my bad ass was crying after screaming the shit out of me and drove 20 min to a station near my work place ) after arguing with my parents/ mom XD

I am kind of a crazy nut once something triggers me and yeah, I thought this request was kinda funny…a big coincidence.

Now, I hope that you too are okay and that you will enjoy reading this Headcanon! Have a nice day!

Jumin

Two weeks passed ever since your mother passed away, the last person you had from your side of the family.

One day, the both of you were talking about raising children and the other day you had to confirm whether this was her body laying there on the tiny table.

Since then, you were emotionally damaged.

You cried most of the time and were just wearing black clothes.

You were very different from your usual self.

So much so, that even your son and daughter noticed that something was off.

In fact, your sadness was something everyone around you, especially your loved ones, noticed.

Your children sat in their room, playing with their toys while you finally got yourself to get out of the bed.

However, despite you not being able to cry anymore, you still didn’t really laugh and were mostly off.

,,Daddy…’’ your daughter asked when Jumin was trying to get the voice of Arielle right.

,,Yes, my daughter?’’ he smiled.

,,Why is Mommy so sad lately? Did you guys argue?’’ she asked him and Jumin could feel his heart break.

Your sadness was something he couldn’t take from you, no matter how many times he held you in his arms, no matter how many times he patted your back, or told you that everything would be alright.

,,No baby…’’ he whispered. The book was long forgotten.

Suddenly, your son stood in the door frame and began to sob.

,,I want to see Mother smile again,’’ he said.

That night, Jumin laid in his daughter’s big bed together with his two children, hugging the sobbing kids and explaining that their mother was just down.

,,You know, the sadness you are feeling right now because your mother isn’t as happy as she was before is the same she is feeling right now because of her own mother,’’ he whispered, remembering that their children still didn’t know that their grandmother died.

The night was a long one and for the first time in his life, Jumin thought that skipping school was actually a good idea.

,,Why aren’t they at kindergarten and school? Are they sick?’’ you asked the next morning after you saw that your children were still in bed sleeping and for a short moment you were the old Mc.

After Jumin explained the reason, the first thing you did was barge into their room.

Your mother for sure would have wanted you to be happy for your children and this was the first step you took to overcome the grieving…

Zen

Everyone once had the one phase in their life, the one time in their life when everyone seemed to go down the river.

The time where nothing was working like it was supposed to.

The time when it seemed as if the world only had bad things for you.

And right now, Mc had to go through it.

Problems after problems were coming onto you, the young mother of two children, although only one survived.

Since you lost the child you were carrying in your womb, you were a bit different.

As if you were offline, you stopped smiling and seemed kind of angry the whole time.

You also got annoyed pretty quickly.

But if there was something that changed, it was the fact that you became even more protective of your daughter.

And of course the young girl noticed that her mother was off.

,,Daddy,’’ the girl began, her hand in Zen’s as they walked through the grocery store.

,,Mhh?’’ Zen asked his daughter, checking if the bananas were alright.

The young father, too, was devastated.

He could still remember your screams that day when you noticed that you were bleeding.

And not even half an hour, the two of you were crying together after learning that your child died.

Zen was slowly healing again, but he knew that you would need a bit more time to fully heal…

,,Why is Mommy so odd lately?’’ your daughter asked him. Zen finally looked up while she began to explain what she wanted to say.

,,She doesn’t go out with Aunt Jaehee anymore. She stopped singing in the bathtub and doesn’t wear makeup anymore.

And I have the feeling that she always tears up when I am about to go,’’ the girl told her father.

Everything was right and Zen had no clue how to tell his little baby that her mother was in pain, a pain that no one could take away from her.

Zen tried to go to a corner with less people before he went on his knees. ,,You know, Mama is a bit sad about something. She will be better soon, but she needs time. Time, love, and support.

The only thing we can do is support her, so don’t worry and just love Mommy. She will soon be the old mommy you knew, okay?’’ Zen asked his daughter, ruffling her hair.

,,Yes! If so, let’s buy her some chocolate!’’ she giggled.

Zen knew that you would be able to heal, but he also knew that this would take some time and he wanted to make sure that you could take all the time you needed to get better…

Yoosung

,,Dad?’’ Yoosung’s son said when he came home.

Yoosung looked up from his desk as he was writing down something.

,,Yes?’’ Yoosung asked, his voice slightly annoyed. It wasn’t something that happened often that Yoosung was in a bad mood. The father was more like the sunshine of the family.

But since you were the mother and your son was rather a mother’s son, whenever you were in a bad mood, it was something that bugged the young boy.

,,Did you upset Mommy?’’ he asked his father, sounding angry with him.

Yoosung rolled his eyes.

,,No, we just argued,’’ he responded.

,,So you did upset her. She’s crying because of you in the kitchen. I don’t like seeing her like this,’’ he said.

Hearing that you were crying was something he didn’t expect.

Yoosung’s expression was soft again, however, the argument was something… rather difficult and Yoosung didn’t really know how to approach you.

But the last thing he wanted was for you to cry because of him.

Yoosung’s son left the room and Yoosung could imagine that he was on his way to hug you.

When Yoosung, however, came to check on the both of you, expecting to see you both in the kitchen, you were the only one left, still being quite aggressive with the tools while you were cooking.

Slowly, without saying anything, the father went towards his son’s room, just to see him just as annoyed as the other members of the family.

,,What did you tell her?’’ he asked, his voice trembling.

,,Mom never rejects my hugs. You really screwed up this time,’’ he hissed, looking up.

Yoosung quickly hugged his son. He was just ten, but it seemed as if he was cooler than his father.

,,I’m sorry, I said something I shouldn’t… don’t worry. I will talk to her. It’s my fault…I’m sorry you had to go though this too,’’ Yoosung whispered, hearing his son whimpering by now.

,,I’m sorry that I made Mommy sad, but don’t worry, everything will be alright again!’’ he smiled.

Jaehee

,,Mom, does Mommy not love me anymore?’’ your seven year old asked Jaehee as she was reading him a bedtime story.

Jaehee paused reading, looked up from the fairytale and tried to process what her son just asked her.

,,I enjoy that you read the story to me nowadays, but usually Mommy did it more than you. She doesn’t smile as much as before and doesn’t talk much lately… is something wrong?’’ he kept asking.

Jaehee was still trying to process. Was a seven years old supposed to behave like that?

To worry about his parents?

To notice that his parents had some problems?

Was a seven years old supposed to think like an adult?

At that very moment Jaehee really guessed that your DNA must have been strong as you were the one who carried the child in your womb.

Jaehee smiled as she put the book aside.

Slowly she went below the blankets with her son and hugged the little boy.

Her hand was softly stroking his face and suddenly it hit her: he was growing up.

He would grow up.

,,You know your surroundings a lot. It’s good to notice things quickly, but you shouldn’t overthink or worry about these kinds of things,’’ she whispered.

,,I know, but I just couldn’t ignore it,’’ he confessed.

He was truly a perfect child.

,,Mommy has had a lot on her mind lately. Don’t worry too much, even though it’s hard,’’ she whispered, patting his back.

,,Why don’t we go and have a picnic with her tomorrow to help her to think of something else?’’ Jaehee asked her son, who immediately was down for the idea.

The next day the two of them really managed to get you out of the house, leaving the coffee shop closed and instead enjoy the warm weather in a park on the grass.

,,Mommy…whatever is on your mind, you can say it to the sun. The sun will burn all your worries with its fire! And then your worries will be solved!’’ the young boy said after the three of you laid together on the blanket.

You looked over to him as he was holding his hand up to the sun.

You slowly teared up as you nodded.

,,The sun will surely burn my worries… Thank you for giving me the idea, baby,’’

Saeyoung

,,There there, why is my baby crying?’’ Saeyoung asked as he found his seventeen year old daughter crying.

It was quite a shock to him and Saeyoung hoped that she wouldn’t confess that she had a boyfriend or was lovesick.

However, to his surprise, she kind of had even worse worries.

,,Baby, you yourself should know how a woman is! She’s just worried about some things! Your mom will feel better soon!’’ he laughed, hugging his daughter.

However, his throbbing heart made her notice that Saeyoung lied.

,,I don’t trust you, Dad… what’s wrong? Please tell me,’’ she begged him.

Saeyoung looked at the girl. She was becoming more and more beautiful.

Her face was yours, the nose, the lips, your hair color.

The only thing that made him remember that he was actually the father of this beautiful teenager was her eye color.

Just like his, as if he was looking at honey.

,,Dad,’’ she repeated. Saeyoung finally realized that he was supposed to come up with a good lie, but before he could say something, his tears were already rolling.

,,Oh my God, is Mom dying?!’’ she gasped, gasping for air before bawling even louder.

,,What?! No! Why are you thinking that?!’’ Saeyoung shrieked, not noticing that he began to cry too.

The both of them actually forgot that it was still four o’clock in the afternoon and that you could hear them from the room next to them, barging in when you heard sobs.

,,What the hell did you do to her to make her cry?!’’ you hissed at Saeyoung, quickly hugging your child.

,,Mom! Don’t die, please!’’ your daughter finally spilled.

It took you a while to explain to your daughter that you weren’t dying and after she finally calmed down, after hugging her for a long time, you and Saeyoung finally shared your worries about her younger brother.

,,Mom and Dad don’t want him to be alone in school and so we’ve been worrying a lot lately,’’ you finally said.

,,But baby, you don’t need to worry. Why are you sad? Mom’s always worried about you guys!’’ you chuckled, stroking her head.

,,Because I love you! I don’t want to see you that sad! Of course I would tear up!’’

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

30.03.2022 // 21:32 MEST

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ninhaoma-ya · 2 years

Text

Chapter 1040 — Falling on deaf ears

Keep still, my fluttering heart. Keep still within your cage, lest you set us all ablaze.

WHAT A CHAPTER! I promised @purplehairedwonder to use a lot of exclamation marks, and that will be done with gusto!!

Just… go and read it, nothing I do or say here will do it enough justice.

But I’ll try my best!

Some info from the cover story: so it was Big Mom herself who defeated Niji and Yonji. Good for them, not being taken out by mere scrubs.

Very nice panel layout, with both crews framing Big Mom from each side, terrified for their sake.

But their captains aren’t afraid!

Nice captainy resolve, at first mistaken for stuttering.

R-room? Someone will probably make a proper scientific medical explanation at some point, I’ll just hug all these feelings…

…of being inspired by your parental figure and sob in this here corner, okay?

PURE BEAUTY!

Look at Law’s movement! Look at the memento of Monet in his rendering of Misery! Look at the indistinct lines of Big Mom; the pure force of the attack on her! Look at the stability and clearness of Kid!

It’s just ..art.

Tag yourself, I’m the blobhead in the bottom left corner.

But was that it for Kanjuro? We’ll see, I’m sure.

And some updates from the interior! I like Big Mom’s speech being showed in the same form Oda normally uses for thought bubbles: she is silenced, after all, so her words are as audible as thoughts to others.

No no no no no no no.

You’ll be fine, Zoro?

Komurasaki wearing the mask again. She’s also amazingly stable in a crumbling castle, with Orochi being tossed this way and that.

Interesting that Big Mom didn’t know if the One Piece is real. And that’s the big difference between the yonko and Luffy. Luffy’s belief is cast in iron: he knows it’s real and won’t stop before he finds it or dies. But Big Mom and Kaido both stopped: they were both comfortable as emperors, dreaming of a future where they might find the One Piece, but not bothering to work for it.

And thanks to Law’s silence, the capital didn’t know what almost hit them that night. They could keep on wishing for a while, about a country without Kaido and Orochi.

Do you think she’s dead? Hard to say. I don’t think the fall or the explosion would be enough on its own, but she has been fighting for a few days now, first against Kaido and then against the captains.

Here, have a whole page of celebration. Because they are worth it.

Great chapter! I give it a barrel of exclamation marks and a step closer to finding the One Piece!

#one piece #ch 1040 #opspoilers #one piece spoilers #trafalgar law #eustass kid #heart pirates #kid pirates #big mom #nin reads one piece

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inkykeiji · 4 years

Text

all she want is payback for the way i always play that shit

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaah yikes, sorry it’s so long???? the first part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you wont make it back; touya + reader have been fooling around for just under six months, our innocent lil good girl reader is the teeniest, tiniest bit more firm now. jealousy makes people crazy, yk how it is. touya is marginally softer for like, a second or two. | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), public sex, cheating, drug use, generally toxic relationship (possessiveness, jealousy), size difference, dubcon if u squint i guess???, the tiniest bit of cumplay

words: 11k

synopsis:

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

“Now it’ll be official,” you remember Touya whispering in your ear, the night before. “I will officially be your niichan,”

The wedding is gorgeous—elegant and classy, just like Rei herself. A wintertime wedding is so beautiful, you tell Rei as she’s busy being fawned over by several stylists, adding the finishing touches to her hair and make up. She’s absolutely stunning, a lacy ivory dress clinging delicately to her small frame, accentuating her natural curves. It glitters gracefully in the pale sunshine streaming through the large bay windows, sparkling any time she moves.

Touya doesn’t sit with his family. Their eyes sear into your flesh, although Touya keeps his stare pointedly in front of him, glaring at the alter. But you can feel their gaze on your skin, can feel their eyes travelling up your body slowly, critically, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It makes your skin crawl, both of your hands curling around Touya’s, a tangled knot of fingers resting in your lap.

You’ve never seen his other siblings before. Rei talks about them sometimes, but never when Touya’s around. You know that once every month, the three of them join Rei and your father for a family dinner, but you’ve never had the pleasure of attending.

You’d missed the first family dinner by fluke, held up late at the library studying for midterms. But every occasion after that, Touya had made absolute certain that you weren’t there. You hadn’t thought much of it the first time it happened, too enraptured and tangled up in Touya to care, grinding desperately against him in the backseat of his car as his tongue forced its way down your throat. But then it happens again, and again, and it becomes too coincidental to ignore.

“Why do we never go to those dinners with your siblings?” you’d tried to bring it up subtly the third time you guys skipped out on dinner, heart thudding in your chest and gentle voice quivering slightly.

Touya sighed, raking a hand through his hair roughly, eyes not straying from the road ahead of him. It’s complicated, he told you in a quiet voice, and you were so startled, so shocked by his sheer, unadulterated honesty, that you couldn’t find your voice, rendering you incapable of replying. Touya didn’t bother looking over at you, didn’t need to, to know that his response surprised you.

The other Todoroki’s are all strikingly beautiful—not that you expected any less. The one with pure snow-white hair and gunmetal grey eyes captures your attention the most, looking as if he’s around your age. He smirks at you when he catches your stare, giving you a small, polite nod—though you can see that tiny glint of mischief in his eye, the same glint you’ve seen in Touya’s a thousand times before. Choking on a surprised gasp, you rapidly avert your gaze, eyes snapping back to the pile of hands in your lap.

Touya notices, of course, because Touya notices everything. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand squeezes yours tightly, just a little too tight to be comforting, as his eyes dart to his siblings across the aisle, glare losing most of its heat when it meets his brother’s stare.

Tense shoulders relax, falling slowly with the measured breath he exhales as he turns back to glower at the alter.

You know other guests are staring at you—you can feel their eyes, too. You know the pair of you look more like a couple than siblings, know you should both probably put some distance between yourselves, at least try to keep some semblance of normalcy, some masquerade of a typical sibling relationship.

But Touya’s knee is bouncing, and he seems…unsure. It’s unsettling, really—Touya always seems so confident in himself—and you can almost feel the tense anxiety rolling off of him in heavy waves. So instead of scooting away from him or untangling your hands, your other palm finds a spot high on the thigh pressed tightly against yours, small fingers beginning to knead the flesh.

Sapphire eyes find yours, and he gazes down at you with an odd sense of fondness in his stare, the tiniest smile ghosting across his lips. It makes your chest swell with pride, makes you want to grab his face and crash his lips against yours, forces a tingling warmth to spread through your veins. It shouldn’t, but it does.

He barely lets you leave his side that day, keeps you glued to his body, an arm wrapped tightly around you. He’s a constant, looming, protective presence, glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for more than a second.

“Touya-nii,” you laugh a little while leaving the ceremony, watching as one of your cousins immediately averts their eyes. “That’s my cousin,”

“And I’m your brother,” he says flatly.

You suppose he has a point.

The two of you find your parents and the rest of Touya’s siblings—yours too, now, you guess—standing around a limousine, beckoning you over.

Rei begins to explain their protocol for pictures—and yes, you both have to come—but you aren’t listening. Their eyes are on you again, you can feel them, gliding up your skin, taking sharp note of the way Touya has you pressed flush against him, the way your arm is wrapped firmly around his waist, little fingers twisting in his suit jacket as your heart begins to speed up.

Touya can feel it, too, and he looks down at you in concern, his thumb caressing your shoulder, before he meets the stares of his siblings with a glare so ferocious you’re surprised it doesn’t turn them to ash on the spot.

They offer for you to ride in the limo with the rest of them, Touya cutting them off as he curtly declines their offer—no thanks, you’ll take his car instead and meet them there.

Rei tries to reason with him, but the pointed look he gives her causes her to trail off mid-sentence, holding his eyes for a moment before a sad smile settles on her face, nodding once.

✰ ✰ ✰

Shinjuku Gyoen is nothing short of stunning in the wintertime. It had snowed this morning, around six AM, blanketing the garden in a soft layer of pure white powder, glittering delicately in the early afternoon sun.

Wide eyes drink it in as your face presses against the glass of the car window, your breath fogging it up. There’s something so whimsical and dreamy about snow, you think, about the way it softens even the sharpest of edges, the way it makes everything look prettier.

“You’re so cute,” Touya remarks, watching you from the corner of his eye, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’ve never been here during the winter,” you murmur in response, still captivated by the grounds.

Rei and your father are immediately whisked away by several photographers to do their photos alone, leaving the rest of you to litter the parking lot.

But the moment they disappear from view, Touya’s got you trapped between his body and the cold metal of his car, lips moving against the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises, things that force soft whimpers from your lips, things that make your legs feel like they’re about to give out as heat pools deep in your belly. He knows, of course, smirks and teases you even more when he feels you squeeze your thighs together helplessly, tells you you’re his perfect little slut and vows to reward you for being so good as soon as he can.

His other siblings are staring, you try to tell him in a quiet, broken whine.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes, pushing his hips harder into yours, practically grinding his hard cock against your waist. “Let ‘em. I bet they’d love to watch me fuck you stupid, huh? What do you think about that, baby? You want them to watch?”

A pathetic sound hitches in your throat and you bury your burning face in his neck, a low, wicked laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

He doesn’t let up on the absolute filth spilling from his mouth until he can hear your father hollering in the distance, calling for the kids and waving the five of you over.

✰ ✰ ✰

Pictures take too long, and Touya’s antsy by the end of it, picking anxiously at his cuticles as his knee bounces. He’s hauling you out of there the moment you’re officially released, a strong hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. You can hear his mother calling for him, and you look back at her desperately, mirroring her worried frown.

He doesn’t even wait for the rest of them to pile into the limo and leave, immediately rooting through his pockets the moment he’s in the safety of his own car, pulling out a little baggie of white powder. He can feel your wide eyes on him, watching his every movement, but his hands are beginning to shake, and panic is starting to rip viciously at his throat, and he just needs it all to fucking stop.

“There’s no way I could endure this shit sober,” he explains as he searches for something in the powder, cursing when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for. Frantic cobalt eyes dart around the car, landing on the glovebox, and he leans over you, hastily pulling a reflective object from the compartment.

It’s a mirror.

A tiny, circular mirror that he uses to tap out a line, fingers unsteady and breathing slightly laboured. The gentle sounds of his platinum credit card colliding with glass echo throughout the car.

Hovering over the small mirror, he pauses, a finger pressed to his nostril. He almost wants to tell you to look away, almost does, but he knows you’d disobey either way.

He doesn’t like doing drugs in front of you—you’re too precious, too pure and innocent and he doesn’t want you around anything that could potentially tarnish that. But he also can’t stand that look you get in your eyes, almost like you’re scared of him, on the rare occasions that you have caught him.

He nearly snaps at you when you quietly ask if you can help, if he needs someone to hold the mirror steady, currently balancing on the center console compartment, but you’ve got that goddamn look in your eyes, wide and terrified.

No, he says sternly, telling you that he doesn’t even want you near this stuff, much less touching it.

But cocaine highs don’t last long, he explains to you when you ask about the little round white pills clacking together in his pocket. You’re positive he shouldn’t be mixing drugs like that, positive that your apprehension and disapproval are written clearly across your face, based on the simmering look he shoots at you.

Don’t fucking start.

So you don’t. You swallow down your worries and sit nice and pretty and good for him, just like you’re supposed to.

✰ ✰ ✰

He only leaves you twice, briefly, throughout the entire night. The first is almost immediately after you enter the reception venue.

Depositing you near the head table, he tells you to stay put before he hurries away. You know where he’s going, what he’s about to do, an odd ache taking root and throbbing deep in your chest.

He’d scold you if he could see you, able to read your expressions like a fucking book, would tell you not to cry for him—he doesn’t need your pity. The words cut through your mind in a snarl, and you work hard to rid your face of the frown marring it; he’s already having such a difficult time today, and the last thing you want to do is upset him more with your concern.

Distraction, you need a distraction. Wide eyes scan the extravagant ballroom, all shimmering golds and beiges and crystal chandeliers, searching in a frenzy for something—anything—to rid your mind of images of pretty boys with inky hair and white, white, white.

You swear you hear your name, then Touya’s, hissed out in a sharp whisper, and your gaze lands on a small group of people not too far from you, with snow and fire for hair—the other Todoroki’s, huddled in a loose circle.

The air around you just feels off, you catch his sister saying in a low but frantic voice, eyes darting between her brothers. She sounds worried about you, you think, and it makes you feel weird. She shouldn’t be worried about you; Touya takes fantastic care of you. It isn’t any of their business anyway, you can almost hear Touya sneering in your head, and he’s right. You know he’s right.

Her brothers don’t look too keen on discussing the subject, especially the youngest, who keeps pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Well, why don’t you go and tell her that yourself,” the one with white hair says, grey eyes connecting with yours. She whirls around quickly, mouth snapping shut when she finds your face. Her lips morph into a smile half a second later, and she waves you over.

You avert your eyes, hands tangling nervously in front of you. No. You shouldn’t go. You really, really shouldn’t go. Touya told you to stay put, and you can’t bear to think—don’t even want to consider—how furious he’d be if he found that not only had you moved, but you had moved to talk to his siblings.

You must spend too much time deliberating, though, looking back up to find them advancing towards you, only a few feet away. Your heart’s pounding almost violently in your chest, breath accelerating with each step closer.

“Hi,” she’s saying warmly as she reaches you, causing you to subconsciously take a step back. “We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Fuyumi,”

You want to say your name, to introduce yourself politely, but your lips are sealed shut, only able to manage a small sound of affirmation.

“Shouto,” the youngest says, cold heterochromatic eyes glancing at you for a moment before looking away. “M’Shouto,”

“I’m Natsuo,” the man with white hair smirks down at you, eyes burning into yours.

Some of your anxiety melts away as you meet his stone eyes; there’s something comforting about the way that he has Touya’s smirk, Touya’s mischievous glint to his gaze, Touya’s playful lilt to his voice.

You feel like you can breathe again when you’re looking at Natsuo, so you keep your stare directed at him as you stutter out your name, gazing up at him through your lashes.

“You always miss the family dinners,” Natsuo accuses with a knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Y’know, eventually, our parents are going to catch on,”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, chills crawling on your skin. He knows?

And he says it so nonchalantly, so casually, as if he’s discussing the weather and not the fact that Touya deliberately kidnaps you to fuck your brains out in his car every single time they gather for one of those dinners. Fuyumi and Shouto look over at him with brows furrowed in confusion, but you choke on a gasp, coughing a little and nodding.

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

“What’s wrong?” he’s asking immediately as his hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you lean on him, heart finally beginning to slow.

“N-Nothing, niichan,” you wrap your arms around his, hugging them to your chest, and he squeezes you in reassurance.

“You sure, baby?” Sapphire eyes search your face as you tilt your head back to look up at him, scanning for any sign of distress.

He shouldn’t be using that pet name here, not in front of his blood siblings, not loud enough that any of the passing guests can hear him with ease.

He shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop it from sending sparks skittering up your spine, heat beginning to coil in your tummy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said you didn’t get some sort of twisted satisfaction at the loud gasp that leaves Fuyumi’s chest, or the sharp intake of breath Shouto chokes on, coughing as he tries to cover it up, all at the drop of that one, simple, four letter word.

Touya loves it, too—you can see it in the way his smirk grows into a full smile, a grin big enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes, can see it in his gaze, in the way his cobalt eyes almost sparkle at their reactions.

Your gaze flits back to the three people standing in front of you—your step-siblings, your mind corrects—eyes gliding over their faces slowly.

Natsuo looks thoroughly entertained, a stupid little grin stretched across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. Fuyumi and Shouto, on the other hand, look thoroughly uncomfortable, shifting a little in place, their faces screwed up with poorly masked disgust.

Touya’s smile drops the moment he looks back at them. Azure eyes scan the faces of his siblings cautiously, giving Natsuo one quick, sharp nod of acknowledgment before his gaze lands on the youngest. And the glare Touya gives him is nothing short of terrifying, practically snarling at the boy, a rough, dangerous sound that gets lodged deep in his chest. It makes the boy cower away, shuffling ever-so-slightly closer to his sister, who shakily glares back.

Lips tugging down into a frown, you look up at Touya, forehead creasing in confusion. He’s still glowering at the kid, eyes narrowing just a little before he huffs and turns away, leaving without speaking a word to any of them.

“Don’t you ever talk to them again,” he’s murmuring as he whisks you away, something malicious in his voice. “You’re my little sister,”

You nod obediently, promising him that you won’t, reassuring him that you didn’t even want to as you relay the entire situation. But he can see it, the curiosity swirling in your eyes, a question dancing on your tongue.

Because although Touya appears to be on seriously awful terms with his younger siblings, Natsuo seems to be some sort of exception. From the interaction you just witnessed, you’re able to deduce that something, some line of communication, must be present between Touya and Natsuo, evident in their shared looks and swift, discreet nods.

He sighs, irritation coating his voice as he demands that you spit it out already.

It makes you jump a little, but the words come tumbling out of your mouth the moment he commands them to, powerless to disobey a direct order.

“Does that include Natsuo?”

Your voice is so tiny that he barely hears you, brows knitting together. There’s an odd look in his eye as he observes you—something that isn’t quite jealousy, but close to it—nose twitching a little as he considers.

“Alone, yes,” he finally says. “With me around it’s fine, I guess. But you are not to speak to him alone, do you hear me?”

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

✰ ✰ ✰

Dinner is absolute torture, and the two of you can barely keep your hands off of each other. It starts innocently enough, discreetly enough, with palms on thighs, fingers brushing down arms, hands interlaced under the table. But the need to touch grows, and grows, and grows, these simple actions too teasing to satisfy that dull burning in the pit of your stomach, flaring a little more each time his fingers press into your thigh, or his thumb runs across your knuckles.

And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t start acting up now, not while the two of you are seated at the head table, looking out amongst the guests—a few months ago, you would’ve never thought to do something so indecent, so dangerous, in such a public place. But you just can’t help it, you’re getting restless now, brain going hazy with thoughts of him as your fingers trail up his thigh and ghost over his lap.

“Getting bold, are we, princess?” his hand catches your wrist, holding your palm in place and grinding up into it. His voice is low, head tipped towards you, sapphire eyes dark. A breath catches in your throat and he smirks, an evil little quirk up of his lips, raising an eyebrow at you in expectation.

You’re lucky they’re seated in a straight line instead of a circle, he murmurs in your ear, Natsuo snickering beside him. “Imagine what your daddy would think if he could see you, acting like such a desperate little slut in front of all of these people,”

A soft, broken moan escapes your lips without your permission, thighs squeezing together in an attempt to combat the heat pooling in your panties. Someone down the line of the table says something, but you’re too enticed by Touya to hear them, your father writing off whatever the remark was with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, those two are always in their own little world,” you hear him dismiss, voice sounding muddled and distant.

“Be a good girl and sit still,” Touya growls in your ear, grip tightening to near bruising.

“But niichan,” you whine, much too loud, gazing at him with glazed, blown eyes. “Niichan,” you repeat, leaning forward to whimper in his ear, fingers flexing around the bulge in his trousers. “N-Need you,”

“If you can’t behave, niichan won’t let you cum later,” he breathes, though his voice is stern, heavy with the weight of the threat.

A pout forms on your lips as he releases your wrist, firmly placing your hand back in your lap and holding it there for a moment, a silent warning for your wandering fingers to stay put.

But he’s up and out of his chair the instant dinner’s over, moving so quick his seat wobbles a little as he grasps your hand tightly in his, practically yanking you up and dragging you along behind him.

The best thing about these fancy venues, he’s telling you as he strides through the halls, cerulean eyes searching for something, is that they have single person washrooms.

The granite is cold on your cheek as Touya shoves you up against the wall, head bouncing a little as it whacks against it.

You whine and he laughs, a cruel, piercing sound echoing off the walls.

“Aw, baby,” he coos contemptuously. “Did that hurt?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut against the throbbing pain radiating through your cheek.

“Poor little thing,” he hisses, lips against your ear as his hands begin to bunch up your dress, gliding over your silk covered thighs, hands fisting in the material as he goes. Pushing it up around your waist, he leans back, hands travelling over the globes of your ass and kneading hard enough to make you cry out.

“You’re a slutty little brat, y’know that?”

Deft fingers hook in the waistband of your thong, all delicate baby pink lace, Touya snickering about how much of a whore you are, wearing such skimpy, slutty panties, as he lets the elastic snap back against your skin.

A little shocked gasp escapes your lips as he begins tugging the dainty fabric down your thighs—you had expected him to merely push them to the side, but he forces you to take them off entirely, stuffing the soaked material in his pocket.

“You think you can just tease niichan like that and get away with it?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head against the wall.

“No,” he murmurs, hips grinding against your bare ass. “Good girls don’t tease their niichans without delivering, do they?”

“No,”

“On your knees,” he orders, spinning you around and stepping back just enough to allow you to sink to the floor. “Get my cock wet,”

Little fingers work quickly, eager to obey, as they undo his pants, practically salivating as you free his cock from its confines.

“Your cock’s so pretty, niichan,” you breathe, eyes glittering with pure, potent desire as you take it in your hands, tongue darting out to trace the prominent veins.

“No teasing,” he growls, a hand knotting in your hair. “I wanna see you choke on it,”

You nod as best you can, mouth instantly falling open, reduced to nothing more than a wet, warm little hole for him to stuff.

And then he’s shoving it down your throat, the hand fisted in your hair holding your head still, and you gag around it almost immediately, working to force you jaw open even more.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he rasps out, voice echoing off the walls of the washroom.

The praise has your heart soaring, has you sucking hard around him as he thrusts into your mouth, coating his cock in thick saliva and desperate to hear more. It’s intoxicating, every quiet moan you manage to pull from him, every breathless good girl that falls from his lips, makes you feel lightheaded and heady and dizzy for more.

His hips pump a few more times before he’s pulling you off his cock completely, devious smirk forming on his lips at your whine of protest, and commanding you to go bend over the sink.

Calloused hands are bunching your dress up around your waist again, toe of his shoe kicking at your inner ankles and forcing your feet further apart.

He doesn’t bother stretching you out, not because he doesn’t have the time to, but because he simply doesn’t want to. It’s truly one of his favourite things, to see tears fill your eyes while his cock stretches your cute little pussy, and he knows you love it too, don’t you?

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

His cock glistens with your saliva, sufficiently wet that it slides in easily enough, with minimal pain for him. And the soft groan he lets out as he watches your little hole struggle to take him, paired with your sweet little whimpers of his name, is nothing short of gorgeous.

It has your pussy fluttering around him, pulling a breathless chuckle from his lips as he fills you to the hilt, hips pressed against your ass.

And then doesn’t fucking move.

Your brow furrows, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You try to fuck yourself back on him, but he’s too quick, hands stilling your hips immediately and tutting in disapproval.

“Niichan,” you whimper. “N-Niichan, please fuck me,”

“Do you think you deserve it?” he’s asking, tongue tracing the shell of your ear as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “After the way you behaved at dinner?”

“M’sorry,” you whine, wiggling back against him, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stops them, grip tightening. “Couldn’t help it, wanted you so bad,”

“Of course you couldn’t,” he smirks, hips starting to move slowly, teasingly, stilling after only three simple thrusts. A hand reaches down and finds your clit, forcing a gasp from you as his thumb brushes over it, back and forth, back and forth, featherlight grazes that have you arching back into him, trying to press further into his touch.

“Think you can cum just like this for me?” he asks, beginning to thrust shallowly again, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging against that spot buried deep inside your cunt, that spot he knows so well, then nudging your cervix. “Hmm?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, breath starting to come out in short little pants.

“Then do it,” he demands in a whisper, eyes still holding yours. “Show niichan how pretty you look, cumming all over his cock,”

And the combination of his deep, rough voice rumbling against your back as praises tumble from his lips, his thumb and cock, and the fact that anyone within a fifteen foot radius of this washroom could probably hear you, has you cumming within minutes with a sharp cry of Touya-nii!

Touya laughs at how pathetically quickly you came, about how easy it is to have you creaming on his cock, heat seeping into your cheeks as you try to look away.

“My turn,” he breathes, yanking your head back up by your hair, fingers finding root in the intricate updo that has begun to fall apart. “And I wanna see your face as I fuck you, so keep your damn head up,”

And then he’s slamming into you with enough vigour to propel you forward, face pressed against the mirror, toes barely touching the ground. Every moan and whimper and mewl he forces from your throat fogs up the glass, leaving tiny glistening drops of condensation as they fade.

You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes open, to watch him as he fucks you, because he always looks so damn pretty.

He’s stupidly attractive, with his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, first few buttons undone and collar popped, revealing his sharp collarbone, smooth ivory skin stretched taut across it. Ebony hair clings to his forehead and neck delicately, coated in sweat, and he’s emitting the most glorious noises, heavy pants and little broken whines, peppered with praise.

Nails bite into your flesh as he holds you in place, hips snapping relentlessly, your fingers curling around the porcelain sink.

“You want niichan’s cum?” he growls in your ear, eyes burning into yours. You whimper in response, nodding against the mirror. “Yeah? Then fucking beg for it.”

Pleads are spilling from your lips immediately, nothing but senseless babbling as he pounds into you.

“Please, niichan, please, need it, your cum, stuff me with your cum,”

“That’s it,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “I want every single person in this godforsaken hall to hear you, I want every single person to know how much of—” he cuts himself off with a shuddery curse. “—How much of a slut my baby sister is,”

“Pretty please,” you whine out the words, eyes rolling back in your head. “Fill me up with your cum, niichan, I-I want it,”

His hips still just as your cunt clenches around him, cockhead pressed tightly against your cervix as he fills you with hot, thick ropes of cum.

He pulls out a few moments later, and you uncurl your fingers from around the rim of the sink, wincing at your appearance; lips bitten raw, hair beginning to fall from it’s elegant style, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

You look back at him to find him already staring at you, expectantly, impatiently, hands jittery as he quirks his head towards the door.

“We can’t leave together,” he says, as if it’s obvious, even though you stumbled into the washroom together twenty minutes ago.

He needs more.

You nod, slow and dumb, staggering a little on your trembling legs. Grasping the doorknob you pause, turning to look at him again.

“What?” he asks as he searches through his pockets, not bothering to glance at you. He can feel your eyes on him.

“Um...” you shift nervously from foot to foot, lip caught between your teeth.

He looks over at you sharply, brows rising as if to ask why are you still here?

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

A wicked smirk spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, brows relaxing.

“What about them?”

“Well, I—I can’t return to the reception without them,”

“Oh, and why not?”

You pause, blinking a few times, at a loss for words. Why not? Because you can feel his cum beginning to trickle out of you, mixing with your juices and dribbling down your inner thigh?

“Exactly,” he says, when you take too long to reply. “Now be a good little girl and go. I’ll be out soon,”

✰ ✰ ✰

You don’t go back into the ballroom, terrified that you’ll be ambushed by his—your—siblings again. Collapsing in one of the plush chairs, you cross your quivering legs tightly in a desperate attempt to keep the cum oozing out of you from getting on your dress.

People are looking again, probably think you’re drunk based on the way you teetered over to the seat, or the way your hair’s begun to come undone from it’s intricate updo, wispy strands framing your face.

He returns from the washroom only a few minutes later, eyes finding you immediately. There’s a stupid, smug smirk on his face, thinks it’s so cute that he fucked you so good you can’t walk, can’t even get up, that you need your niichan to help you.

A pout forms on your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Not funny,”

“Very funny,” he chuckles as his hands snake under your armpits, hauling you to your feet. You stumble a little, bumping into him and he laughs again, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and propping you up against him.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

“Oh, niichan,” you murmur and he pauses, glancing over at you. You reach up, your thumb swiping across his nose to collect excess white powder.

“Thanks,” he breathes, winking at you. You hum noncommittally, about to rub your thumb across his white dress shirt to clean it when he catches your hand, bringing your thumb to his lips and licking it instead.

It isn’t discreet. It’s slow and deliberate, tongue sticking out of his mouth, flattening it against your thumb and dragging it up, from base to tip. You’re sure someone saw that, but you can’t be bothered to care, not when another bout of intense heat rushes to your core, forcing you to squeeze your legs together, trying in vain to keep Touya’s cum from seeping out, from your juices traveling down your leg. A soft whimper leaves your lips, breathing beginning to accelerate as your eyes bore into his, now half-lidded and dark. He holds your gaze for a moment before something snaps.

“We need to go,” he says, voice firm with no room for negotiation. “Now.”

And, God, his voice is rough and raw and fucking dripping with desire. It’s got you nodding before he’s even finished speaking, a flock of butterflies invading your stomach at the downright sinful grin he gives you in response. Such a good girl for him.

Despite the fact that you’ve barely recovered from your previous orgasm, you nearly moan at his look alone, the urge to kiss him burning through your veins and alighting your entire body in direct juxtaposition to the shivers his eyes just sent rippling across your skin. The insatiable need overwhelms your senses, and it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous, how captivated he has you, entirely wrapped around his slim finger and hanging on his every word, how you’re positive that, in that moment, you’d do anything he asked.

You wobble awkwardly in your heels, legs still shaking and having trouble keeping up with Touya’s swift pace. You’re about to ask him to slow down just a little so you don’t break an ankle, when you bump into your father.

Who just so happens to provide you with the perfect excuse to leave early. You can practically see the gears clicking into place in Touya’s mind, sapphire eyes glittering as a sinister smirk spreads across his face.

Your father’s eyes widen as he observes your appearance, strands of hair sticking to your clammy face and eyes half-lidded, chapped lips beginning to crack, leaning heavily against Touya and seemingly too weak to stand on your own.

“Hi dad,” you greet hoarsely, wincing a little at how grating your voice sounds.

He frowns immediately. “Jesus, sweetheart, are you feeling alright? You look…” he trails off, forehead wrinkling with worry.

“Oh, she’s not feeling too good,” Touya says softly, smoothly, just the right amount of concern and compassion in his tone.

“Oh no,” your father breathes, frown deepening. “That’s terrible,” he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. “Do you think you’ll be able to tough out the rest of the reception?”

You begin to croak out an answer, but Touya speaks over you.

“She’s burning up, sir,” he informs him, and it isn’t a lie—not exactly, anyway. Technically, if your father were to feel your forehead, your body temperature would be above average, a result of Touya fucking the absolute life out of you a mere ten minutes ago.

Touya looks down at you with painfully sympathetic eyes, but you can still see that little glint of mischief, buried under all of that artificial benevolence.

“Maybe I should take her home?” Touya muses, looking back at your father, mimicking his anxiety effortlessly.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “I think that’s the best thing to do,” his eyes dart to yours. “You really don’t look well,”

Oh, you’re sure you don’t. Resting a little more against Touya, you play up the symptoms a bit, whimpering quietly as little fingers twist in his shirt, nuzzling your face against his side. A soft noise of endearment sounds at the back of his throat, large hands readjusting your body to support you better.

Another whimper falls from your lips, but this time it isn’t from pretending you’re ill. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, slimy and cool as it drips down your inner thigh, and a sick thrill shoots through your body, abused cunt throbbing greedily.

Rei comes up behind your father then, wrapping her arms around his midsection and resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes flitting between the two of you carefully.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“I’m gonna bring this little princess home,” Touya explains, nodding his head at you in indication as he speaks. “She isn’t feeling very well, poor thing,”

And it’s scary, scary how terrific he is at lying, how easily he slips into that niichan role, the one painstakingly crafted and flawlessly maintained around your parents, the one he’s perfected at this point.

Rei doesn’t say much, only cooing in sympathy, remarking that it’s such a shame, but your father’s eyes soften. “Such a good big brother,” he praises, clapping a hand on Touya’s shoulder.

Touya has to consciously work to smother the smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he responds.

“You have no idea,”

✰ ✰ ✰

Your parents don’t come home that night, opting to go straight to the airport from the venue, embarking on their honeymoon immediately.

It’s nice, playing house with Touya, having the entire place completely to yourselves. He’s been home an awful lot these past few weeks, more than he ever has in the past, and you get to experience things you never could before.

Every morning and every night, you cook breakfast and dinner together. You go grocery shopping together, wash the dishes together, fold the laundry together, all while stealing kisses in between; little domestic things you didn’t really do with your parents around.

You spend every night that they’re away in his bed, being fucked into his mattress, surrounded by the smell of him—campfire and Marlboros and expensive cologne—absolutely full of him in every sense.

You wake up in the mornings with his hand between your legs, playing with your cute little clit, or his cock pressed against your ass, grinding until you wake up. You have sleepy, slow morning sex while you’re both still half asleep, and it’s the most gentle he’s ever been. It consists of lazy, sloppy, messy thrusts against each other, hips meeting halfway—just grinding until he gets too impatient, though he usually lets you cum two or three times before he finally flips you over, trapping you under his body and slamming his hips into you, growling and grunting, your legs pushed up and folded on either side of you.

You get to fuck in the kitchen—not that you hadn’t before, but this time you get to take it slow. He eats you out while you sit on the counter and then fucks you into oblivion and it’s nasty, it’s disgusting, it’s so good. He cums so much that it’s leaking out of you, onto the counter, his chest heaving as he observes it with an odd little smile and a soft “fuck,”

And you get to fuck in the bathtub, that big jacuzzi in your parents room, water and bubbles sloshing around as you bounce on his cock, loud cries echoing off the walls.

It’s going great, until the last weekend of the honeymoon, a mere few days before your parents are supposed to return.

✰ ✰ ✰

A party.

Keigo tries to talk him out of it, tries to at least talk him out of letting you stay.

“She shouldn’t be here,” you hear Keigo hiss under his breath as guests begin to fill the house, Touya snorting in retort.

Keigo doesn’t think you should be around any of this at all—there’s no reason you should have to witness this shit, you catch him growling, gold eyes blazing. No, not a poor innocent babygirl like you, this isn’t the place for you.

But Touya’s too stubborn, too selfish to let Keigo take you out for the night. He knows he’s right, would rather not have you around these people, but he doesn’t have a fucking choice. The thought of you being out of his sight, out with another man, has anxiety rising in his throat, panic clawing at his chest.

As a result, you spend the entirety of the party being passed between Touya and Keigo. There are so many girls here, so many people you don’t know, wide eyes scanning the living room as your fingers twist in Keigo’s hoodie.

Niichan’s busy, Touya tells you, when you ask why you can’t just stay with him, when you ask where he keeps disappearing off to. Niichan’s working, don’t you know? Be a good girl and stay with Kei.

You can tell that Keigo isn’t happy about it. He coos softly when you timidly ask if he’s upset that he’s stuck babysitting you all night, in the middle of an apology when he cuts you off.

“It isn’t your fault, songbird,” he murmurs, gentle fingers tracing the curve of your face.

He’s even angrier at Touya when he takes that first girl back to his room, because the look on your face—the way it crumples accompanied by a soft, hurt sound caught at the back of your throat—kills him.

And it isn’t like you don’t know about his side whores. You do. They’re customers, he had snapped at you, the only time you had ever asked about it. But it’s an entirely different thing to actually have to witness it with your own eyes.

You can’t help the flare of jealousy that rises in your chest every time he takes a girl by the hand and leads them to his bedroom. It stings, burns, feels like a fire’s been lit in your chest, filling your lungs with dense smoke and making it hard for you to breathe.

Keigo tries his best to distract you, gentle fingers on your cheeks turning your face towards him, golden eyes softening in sympathy. He keeps you as preoccupied as he can, but it still isn’t enough. Your eyes are drawn to Touya every time he’s in the room—an automatic, instinctual reaction you couldn’t control even if you wanted to.

And every time you watch a girl giggle into his ear, or hop up with him, that fire smoldering in your chest blazes, rages, has you wheezing and hissing and pressing a palm flat against yourself, a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop.

Tomura’s here, too, though he’s sitting in a shrouded corner on his phone, the light from the screen reflected on his pale face, colours flashing intermittently. He looks absorbed with whatever he’s doing on there—probably playing a game, Keigo tells you, but why are you interested, anyway?

You don’t know, you aren’t sure, you can’t exactly put it into words. He terrifies you, but he sparks a morbid curiosity in you, too. He’s so silent, private, almost inobtrusive; and yet Touya never lets you anywhere near him. Your eyes keep flitting his way, as if trying to will something to happen, staring at him longingly and hoping he’ll look up from his phone for a split second and catch your gaze, that he’ll somehow magically get the hint that you’re desperate and dying to talk to him, and take the first step.

But it doesn’t happen.

Touya is thoroughly unimpressed each and every time he finds you sitting on Keigo’s knee or lap, leaning back against his chest as he speaks with that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, but there isn’t much he can do. The third time he returns to take you from his friend he can tell you’re beginning to get tired, can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re cuddling into a warm chest. He debates sending you to bed right then and there, but you protest, little hands tangling in Keigo’s hoodie.

“Aw, she’s alright for a little more, isn’t she?”

Touya’s sharp jaw clenches twice and he exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darting between your faces.

“Fine,” he says, although it doesn’t seem fine.

And you are exhausted, straddling Keigo’s hips, face pressed into his shoulder and hot breath evening out softly against his neck. Fingers ghost up and down your spine nonchalantly as Keigo talks softly to the people around him, his laugh vibrating against your chest and filling you with an odd, tingly sensation, a warmth that seeps through your body. You snuggle a little closer to him and he coos, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him.

“Don’t wanna go to bed with him,” you whisper, words muffled by his skin.

Keigo hums in question, squeezing you once. “Who, songbird?” he presses his lips to your ear as inconspicuously as he can, lidded gold eyes lazily scanning the room for your brother. “Touya?”

You nod sluggishly, little fingers curling in his hoodie, a silent plea not to let you go.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Keigo says softly with a small chuckle, but it sounds off to your ears—sad, even.

“Don’t wanna,” you repeat, pout evident in your voice. “Wanna stay with you,”

You wouldn’t have noticed the way his chest hitches at those four words if you weren’t pressed flush against it. But you feel it, feel his breath getting caught in his throat, reverberating against you as he clears it quietly. Unexpected guilt sours your mouth, makes your stomach turn to a block of heavy lead, weighting your body down.

“You know you can’t, sweetheart,” he finally responds, voice cracking just a bit, right on that last word. “Don’t hurt your niichan like that, he loves you,”

No he doesn’t, you want to say, but you can’t seem to force the words from your mouth, opting to shake your head instead, eyes shutting tightly against the burn of tears.

“He does,” Keigo says, more sternly this time. “Don’t doubt that,”

But you’re not so sure. If Touya loved you—really loved you—would he have disappeared no less than three times tonight, each with a different girl, leading them into his bedroom with those dark glittering sapphire eyes while they gaze up at him like he hung the fucking moon himself?

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

You keep your face buried in Keigo’s chest to block it out, to keep yourself from watching your big brother as he flits around the room, handing out discreet baggies in exchange for ridiculous wads of cash and talking in hushed voices, in code, to men who look much too old to be at a house party.

Eventually, Touya returns to retrieve you, bending down and speaking softly.

“It’s time for bed, princess,” A hand pets your head, and you flinch away.

“Hey,” you feel the couch dip beside you as he sits down. “Look at me,”

You’re shaking your head, trying in vain to press even closer to Keigo, but that doesn’t stop Touya from reaching out and gripping your chin, forcing you to face him.

Crystal eyes search your face carefully, wide and alert—he always works sober, you found out. He can tell you’re upset, can see it written plain as day across your face, eyes glassy with your lips set in a deep pout, eyebrows pushed together. Exhaling harshly, he closes his eyes, fingers rubbing at his eyes in exasperation.

“C’mon,” he says lowly, wrapping a hand around your bicep and tugging as he stands.

“No,” you nearly growl, shaking your head and viciously pulling your arm from his grip.

Touya stares at you for a moment, like he cannot believe you just had the audacity to tell him no, before he speaks, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “What did you just say?”

Keigo’s sitting up straighter now, more alert as your body subconsciously curls into his chest, cowering away from your big brother. “Y-You heard me,”

Snorting in disbelief, Touya raises his eyebrows as his tongue runs along the front of his teeth, huffing out the remnants of a chuckle before his smile drops completely, blue fire blazing in his dark eyes.

“Get up,” he snarls, hand in a vice grip around your arm as he yanks harshly. The force of it has you practically falling off Keigo’s lap, though Touya catches you roughly before your knees hit the hardwood, hoisting you up by your arm to stand on unsteady feet.

“Move.” He instructs, giving you a shove in the vague direction of his bedroom. “Now.”

His chest bumps into your back and you stumble forward, yelping softly. He keeps pushing like this, strong hand clasping your shoulder so tightly you’re sure you’ll have five little bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in the morning, driving you to walk with the sheer force of his body.

“No,” your whispering, trying desperately to turn back and look at him as you approach his door, tears flooding your eyes, frantically shaking your head and trying your damnedest to plant your feet, heels digging into the floor in an attempt to stop him from pushing you forward.

“You really gonna say no to me a second time tonight? In less than fifteen minutes? You think that’s wise, baby?”

You don’t—of course you don’t. It’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do, in this situation.

But even though you know, know this isn’t a smart move, know you shouldn’t be testing him like this—challenging him like this, especially in front of so many people—you’re powerless to control the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I don’t want to sleep in a bed that’s been infested by your whores,”

They come out as a hiss—you don’t mean for them to, but they do, voice quivering under the combined weight of your fury and fear.

That gets him to stop, entire body going rigid. Icy dread rushes through your veins, panic clawing its way up your throat, forcing uneven breaths through your parted lips. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you brace yourself for the impact of his bellowing voice, shoulders tensing in anticipation for the blow, for him to really snap.

Except then he starts laughing, his hand relaxing around your shoulder, spinning you around to face him as he backs you up against his bedroom door, caging you in with his body.

“That’s what this is about?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you blink twice in disbelief, prompting hot tears to finally spill over. “I—Wh-Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

It hurts, stings like three massive spikes just shot through your heart, causes a tiny whimper to sound from deep in your throat, chest hiccupping with pathetic little half-sobs.

“Sil…Silly?” Time feels as if it’s slowed, your sluggish brain having trouble comprehending the situation unfolding.

His lips pull down into a frown, eyes narrowing slightly as he regards you with extreme precision. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds far away, muffled, like you’re underwater and he’s speaking to you from above the surface. “Hey—”

Your head’s shaking again, in slow, delayed motions from side to side. “No,” you whisper. “No.”

You feel nauseous, and the proximity of his presence is only making it worse, making you feel like you could hurl at any moment. Little hands find purchase on his chest and push, stomach lurching painfully as your head spins.

He catches your wrists easily, holding them together in one large hand, his other coming to grip your chin and force you to look at him.

Thick silence settles between the two of you as Touya’s eyes study your face slowly, noting the tears flowing steadily down your face, the way your breath stutters with sobs you’re so desperately trying to hold back, the way your entire body trembles.

“Are you seriously upset over this?” he asks, laughing a little.

Your gaze holds his, tears casting a thick, gleaming screen across your eyes.

“Yes, Touya,” you whisper, wishing your voice didn’t sound as small and weak as it does. “I’m seriously upset,”

That’s the first time you’ve used his first name—just his first name, void of any honorific—in a long, long time.

It gets him to pause again, his usual and well-worn mask of passivity melting away for just a second as shock crosses his face. Then his features are hardening again, brows knitting together and creasing his forehead, eyes narrowing into near slits.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he spits harshly, the words cutting into your flesh. “You know none of them mean a thing,”

“Then why do you fuck around with them?” you shoot back almost immediately, voice fading into a whisper.

He glares at you, as if you’re wasting his precious time with such childish questions when he’s told you this already, and you can see the blue fire simmering in his eyes.

“It’s late,” he says curtly, voice sounding off to you. “You need sleep.”

You try to fight him on it, but he’s too quick, reflexes too swift, and he shoves you into his room, door slamming shut less than a second later.

Tears obstruct your vision as you stumble around, finally finding his desk chair and collapsing heavily. You don’t even bother trying to open the door, know it’s locked without having to hear that soft click! as the lock turns into place.

He’s right—it is late, well past three in the morning, and you are utterly exhausted, drawing your knees up to your chest and curling up in the plush chair.

But no matter how tired you are, you absolutely refuse to sleep in his bed. The party’s dying down, you can hear Touya’s muffled farewells as guests begin to leave while you fade in and out of consciousness.

You think you might’ve heard Keigo say something, might’ve caught the word stay, might’ve detected the annoyance laced in Touya’s voice as he responds, but you’re too worn out to reflect on it.

At some point in the night, Touya reenters his room, chuckling a little at your antics and carrying you to his bed.

The move wakes you, and you weakly protest—no, you don’t want to be in this bed, please, just let you go sleep in your own bed—but Touya ignores you entirely, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tightly to his chest.

It’s then that the tears start up again, salt staining your puffy cheeks, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he hushes you, nimble fingers combing through your hair. “I’m here, right here,”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Touya over these past few weeks, it’s that he becomes marginally softer in the middle of the night. Your fingers twist in his t-shirt, trying in vain to pull yourself impossibly closer, Touya making a soft noise akin to a coo in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

You hate it. You hate that he’s the only person you want comforting you right now, as you lay in his bed, surrounded by the smell of cheap perfume and clinging in desperation to him, needing him close, needing his body heat warming you and his hands on you. You hate the way your sobs come harder the more he soothes you, the heavy ache in your chest almost bruising, crushing your lungs and making it near impossible to breathe.

But you crave his comfort nonetheless. It’s a special kind of comfort, one that’s difficult to describe, one that only comes from the love and adoration and protection of a big brother.

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

There’s something in his voice that makes you stop, pause, his words reverberating in your mind. He sounds almost like…like he’s upset over this fact, like he wishes that you didn’t have all of him.

You want to press for more, to probe and prod and pick away at it, but exhaustion finally claims you, rendering you incapable of speech, your tongue moving sluggishly in your mouth as you desperately try to form words.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s grey when you wake, only a few hours later, eyes sticky and dry from lack of sleep. Your head is pounding, feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, lips cracked and dry from dehydration, and a painful lump forms almost immediately in your throat when you get a whiff of sickly sweet artificial vanilla, then another of intense, synthetic citrus.

The tears are starting up again, collecting in your eyes and clouding your vision. It makes you nauseous, makes your skin crawl and your chest burn as your throat fills with acid. The tears sting, but you blink hard to keep them at bay. You will not cry, not in front of him, not in his bed surrounded by the remnants of those other girls, not again. You refuse to give them the satisfaction.

You spring up quickly, halfway through climbing over Touya’s body when a strong hand latches onto your wrist.

“No,” Touya mumbles, face half buried in his pillow. “Stay,”

“No,” you whisper, pulling yourself free from his grasp and hurrying out of his room. You can smell them on your clothes, on your skin, and it makes you want to scrub your body under scalding water until it’s raw.

Everything hurts—it hurts so much it feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, like you can’t breathe, gasping for air as you stumble onto the porch, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stop and realize you have nowhere to go.

Touya has cut you off from all of your friends at this point; any spare time you had was now claimed by him.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t bother rolling out of bed to follow after you, isn’t worried about you going anywhere, knows you can’t leave him, no matter how badly you want to. No, not a precious little girl like you, with nowhere to find refuge.

You sit down heavily on one of the front steps, vision so blurry with tears you’re barely able to make out the figure advancing towards you. They’re finally escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you blink twice, trying to clear them. Your chest stutters under the force of a sob you’re desperately trying to hold back, clapping both hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence it.

“Hey—oh no,” Keigo breathes the moment your watery eyes look up at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, causing more tears to leak out as your shoulders shake, whole body trembling from the force of your sobs, poorly muffled by your palms.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” he’s saying as he rushes to sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders tightly.

Keigo’s the closest thing you have to a friend now. And really, you should be embarrassed by the way you practically fling yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your hands form fists in his t-shirt. He’s a little startled by your borderline violent reaction, but he recovers quickly, arms encircling your body and pulling you against him.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, one hand rubbing your back while the other pets your hair. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,”

And you hate the way his words almost directly mirror Touya’s, the way his low sultry voice turned gentle and soft as he carded deft fingers through your hair echoing almost painfully in your head. But Keigo lets you cry, lets you stain his t-shirt with salty tears and saliva until you’ve got nothing left, never stopping his compassionate motions.

“You…Stayed the night?” you pull back a little, the fact that he’s still here, blonde hair all mussed up from sleep, finally dawning on you.

“Well, yeah,” he says, a little bashful as he looks away and ducks his head. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, s’all. Last night was…” he trails off, frowning. “What happened?”

Golden eyes search your face, his forehead crinkling in concern. A beat of silence passes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…” kind fingers move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better if you let it out, promise. And, not to brag or anything, but I’m preee-tty good at this kind’a stuff,” he chuckles a little.

“Got in a fight,” you whisper, eyes staring intently at the brick wall behind his shoulder as your chin trembles slightly, memories of last night flashing through your mind.

“A fight? With Touya?” Keigo moves his head a little, forcing his face into your field of vision and catching your face with tender fingers when you try to look away.

“Yeah,” tears are beginning to well up in your eyes as you think about it, the sheer fact that you’re in a fight making your heart feel like it’s ripping itself to shreds. A chaotic storm of emotions brews in your chest, switching mercilessly and swirling together so quickly that you can’t even tell what they are. Your insides feel all jumbled up, and trying to decipher what the heck’s going on only makes your head ache more.

They torment you, a deep sense of anguish finally settling at the core. You’re confused, livid at Touya for being such a jackass; jealous, because you want him all to yourself; heartbroken, because you want—need—his approval, desperate to hear him tell you that you’re his good little baby girl.

You want to be his good little baby girl.

But it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. Get used to it, he had told you once, when you had complained about something so silly, so simple as him eating the last ice cream cookie sandwich (he made it up to you, of course, telling you he wanted to taste your cream—such a cheeseball—and making you cum three times before taking you out to buy more).

No, it isn’t fair, but you don’t care. You want him to be yours, too.

Keigo tsks, bringing your attention back to him, mouth set in a hard line as sad eyes watch you. “What was it about?”

“I-It…H-He—” a shuddery breath cuts you off, and Keigo draws you into his arms, holding you against his chest as the sobs start up again, sobs that make it feel like your body’s about to tear apart, desperately clutching Keigo to try and keep yourself together.

“Oh, songbird,” he coos, rocking you gently. “Is it…Um, the other girls?”

“Yes,”

“But you know you’re his favourite, right?”

“D-Does it even matter, if he’s still fucking them anyway?” you ask, pulling back suddenly as hot anger flashes through you. “Why does he need them? Am I—” a sob cuts you off, but you swallow it, persevering. “Am I not good enough?” your voice breaks on the last word, fading into a whisper, big teary eyes scanning his face almost frantically, seeking an answer in his expression.

Keigo blinks, surprised by your sudden brashness, then gives you a small, sad smile. “Only he can answer that, sugarplum,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to catch a stray tear and wipe it across your cheekbone. “But just because he’s fucking around, doesn’t mean that you can’t, too,”

Your head tilts to the side, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine,” Keigo shrugs, leaning back a little. “He definitely deserves it, for making an angel such as yourself so upset,”

You sniffle a little, wiping at your nose with the paw of your sweater as you consider the prospect.

“Y’know, it technically isn’t cheating, since you guys aren’t in any sort of official relationship to begin with,” Keigo reminds you gently, nudging just a tiny bit more.

It isn’t right—you know it isn’t. You’ve never been one to fight fire with fire, often preferring to avoid conflict and drama, but you’re so hurt; you’re so angry at him—angry at the way he reacted, as if it was you in the wrong, angry at the fact that he doesn’t even seen to care about your feelings on the issue, because he knows you’ll come running back either way, angry because he’s right, as evident in the way pathetically clung to him last night—that all you want to do in that moment is cause him a shred of the pain he’s causing you.

It’s an impulsive decision that has you pulling out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts, thumb jabbing at Tomura’s name—Touya had given you his number for emergencies only—before you have time to think it through, before you have time to regret it.

Tiny thumbs fly across the keyboard, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline accelerates your breathing.

Hey. Let’s hang out.

Keigo inhales through his teeth next to you, and your eyes dart to him in surprise, as if you had forgotten he was there.

“Well,” he begins, though his voice sounds odd to you—unlike his usually nonchalant, happy-go-lucky manner. “That’s, uh, definitely one that’s gonna hurt him, songbird,”

You look back down at your phone to see Tomura typing a response.

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #no idea how this MONSTER grew so much???#big apologies #part two is DARK and it is coming tomorrow!!!#tw pseudo-incest #tw toxic relationship #tw dubcon #tw drugs #tw cheating

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lolita-lollipop · 3 years

Text

yandere other mother x reader- Coraline au

warnings- yandere behavior, platonic yandere, manipulation, slight infantilism, mentions of neglect, false reality,

this one really isn't bad, but just to warn you, if any of these things trigger you, please don't read!

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“Y/n this is insane! Can’t you see that she’s crazy?!” Coraline yelled at you from inside the dusty room while the three ghosts watched, their mouths had been sewn shut long ago, so they weren’t able to intervene. You stood there, feeling like you wanted to cry, this “other mother” was amazing, your real parents never showed much affection, going far enough that it could be Called neglect, so when your other mother held you in her lap, and braided your hair, and gave you warm hugs, and kisses on the cheeks, you felt happy. Your other father was just as amazing, but still, their treatment of you felt similar to one of a baby’s, always treating you like a young child who can’t think for themselves. Coraline noticed this far earlier, while you remained happy and oblivious, the buttons for eyes were the last straw for her.

“I know okay! I just, she’s so nice, I don’t even know what to think anymore, you know what it feels like to actually have parents… I don't, my entire life I’ve been shoved in a little blue house down the stairs and told ‘don't disappoint us’ by my parents! I just want to feel loved… it’s just, it’s just not fair” you spoke, lip quivering, you couldn’t even remember the last time you allowed yourself to cry, you weren’t supposed to love the “other parents” but you did, they were the parents you never had, and you just had to live them. At this point silent tears were trailing down your cheeks, Coraline remained fuming at you, not even sparing a moment to acknowledge the two small black buttons that seemed to appear out of nowhere, peeking through the wall.

“That doesn’t matter, do you really want tiny little needles poking in and out of your eyeballs? Do you really want to leave your real parents behind? Do you want me to leave you behind?” She seethed, you shook your head, letting out a few small whimpers and sobs under your breath, you hated that she was right, you hated it so much, you couldn’t just leave everything in the real world for this parallel universe void of life, you should want to back there right? where no one cared about you, where no one loved you, where you were nothing.

“Coraline? Is that any way to speak to your friend?” A soft voice rang from behind your form, the few lost souls floating in the room ten up, showering to the far corners where the other mother couldn’t see them, then you felt warm hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to the women’s chest, you subconsciously leave into her warmth, she glared down at Coraline, stoking your head lovingly. In reality, she hadn’t wanted for you to get pushed down here, but Coraline was getting in the way, and you just got caught in the crossfire, she did make sure that your landing was softer though, while Coraline's was harsh.

“You don’t get to tell us what to do, you aren’t her mother.” Coraline breathed out, slimming her eyes into a harsh stare at the woman in whose chest you were sobbing into. One moment, you were in the cold cellar-like room, the next, you were back in the baby pink room that was yours in this place, your true room was a boring white, with a ritzy mattress in the middle, and a small cabinet that served as a closet. Although you didn’t particularly like the color pink, it was nice to know that someone cared enough to bring true colors into your life. The other mother continued her embrace, picking up and cradling your head against her shoulder, you felt a wave of drowsiness overtake your senses, it hit you like a pound of bricks, and you squeezed the back of the women’s shirt to see if you were dreaming or not, her hold just felt so… comforting.

“Was she mean to you darling? Don’t you worry your little head about it, shhhhhh, just fall asleep, mother will take care of everything.” She spoke, bouncing slightly up and down with each step she took towards the large bed that was displayed in the center of the room. You barely muttered a small “wait” before falling asleep in her arms. She tenderly placed your body under the silky sheets, wrapping you up with the soft fabric and placing a small pig plushy next to you, keeping an eye on her precious’s little daughter while she tended to some “housework”.

The second you went unconscious you slipped into a weird dream, you were walking on a thin sheet of water, in a pitch dark room, it was so cold like someone had dunked you in a bucket of ice, you stared out into the nothingness, gradually growing more anxious, where are you?

“HELLO! IS ANYBODY OUT THERE!” You screamed, only to be greeted by the echo of your own words, nothing more, nothing less. You started to swivel around in a moment of panic, having just about no idea what could happen to you in this dark abyss. That was until you dek the floor below you disappear, and you popped into existence into a completely different place, it was a medium sized room, the layout was similar to a grocery store, multiple shelves made the room feel smaller, what was odd about it, was that all the shelves were packed with hundreds of snowglobes. You admired the pretty glass structures as you slowly walked down the aisles, each had a completely different design, with little figures inside, you found it adorable, ogling at the pretty things. That was until you heard quiet clicking of heels, and your other mother came into view.

“There you go, now don’t be rude to me! You are a very lucky girl that I’m even letting you live, you should know much better than to taint my daughter's mind with your filthy voice, oh you make such a great addition to my collection! Enjoy your stay, forever” she chimed, you were positive that she couldn’t see you, mainly because you were standing frozen directly in front of her, and she hadn’t acknowledged you. At least you weren’t freezing anymore! You tiptoed closer to the snowglobe that was just placed among the collections, wondering why your mother was so enthusiastic about it. And saw nothing special about it, other than the bright yellow raincoat that adorned the figurine.

you remained completely unaware. of the thousands of button eyes that watched you from the globes, begging to be shattered, and set free.

“Pretty” you muttered to yourself before the world faded again, and you were back into your body, snuggled up under the covers, clutching the pig plushy close to your chest, you felt awake, but also very asleep, forgetting your entire dream the moment your eyes opened, slightly surprised to see that you were still in the pink room, in the other house. You could hear the feint sound of your bedroom door opening, the creak rang through the room. And the other mother smiled softly at your lovable position, cooing under her breath, trying not to be too loud and wake you up.

“Darling, we have to get up now, oh I know I know your still tired, but it’s dinner time, you can’t stay in bed all night, little sleepyhead, my little sleepyhead.” She spoke, rubbing your shoulder while you groaned at the sudden speaking and noise. You didn't know how long that dream lasted, but you did know that it was odd, so odd that in fact, it made up your mind for you about the whole button eyes thing.

“Uhm- Mother? I-I’m sorry, but I- I don’t want to put buttons in my eyes.” You muttered, awaiting a harsh reaction, but instead, getting another one of her sweet smiles, she picked you up again and sat you in her lap, your small frame getting engulfed by hers.

“Oh is that what you were worrying so hard about? Don’t worry honey, you never were going to have to sow buttons in your eyes, it was just to see if I could trust you, and I know that I can trust you now.” She stated, calmly, a little too calmly. So… she lied? You got in a fight with your best friend because she wanted to “see if she could trust you”?

“Oh- okay, where coralline though? Can I talk to her? Please, mother?” You started begging after seeing her stoic expression, why did you want to see her? Was she not good enough for you? Coralline was mean to you, she hurt her little girl! Why did you want to see her? We’re you going to leave your mother for a snobby brat? She tightened her hold on you, pressing you closer to her, whispering little “shh” or “stay with me” in your ear, for some reason, you couldn't place what Coraline's face looked like, even though you had seen her just earlier, any memories of her were slowly dimming, fuzzy spots started appearing in any of those memories, and like turning of a staticky tv, they disappeared. You couldn’t even remember the name “coralline” after a few minutes of being cradled in this women’s lap.

“Cmon darling, let’s go eat dinner now, your father made it this time, I’m surprised he hasn't burn down the kitchen!” She spoke, getting a few sleepy giggles out of you. After helping you down the stairs she led you to the dining room, where you went on and sat at the large table next to your two parents. And so, you forgot about your “real” world, staying young forever here, even growing younger and smaller as time went on, forgetting about coralline, and your parents, and the small door, you lived your life happy, dressed in frilly pink clothing, learning to lobe your mother as she grew more obsessed with you, she got what she wanted in the end

You stayed mother’s little girl forever

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have a great day today :)

#yandere x reader #coraline #yandereothermother #other mother #yandere x y/n #cuddling & snuggling #buttons #snow globe #yanderecoraline #alternate universe #platonic obsession #platonic yandere #darling #infantilism

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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hi <3 i hope you’re well and having a beautiful day so far. i was wondering if you could write a fic about sirius or logan’s brother like relationship to adele - for example, how they would approach her when she’s having a bad day or when she needs advice about something or maybe even after a disagreement with her parents. no worries if you can’t, i just thought it would be a wholesome interaction 💕

Oh, for sure! Katie and Logan get so much attention (for good reason--they're adorable), but I like to think of Sirius and Adele as the blueprint. Hope you enjoy! Combined with asks for Logan and Loops friendship, Papa Dumo (for @ jinxedjaz), Sirius coming back from visiting his parents while living with the Dumais, and Sirius-learning-to-people from this hc list. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

A little hand tugged on the hem of Dumo’s sweater. “Papa?”

He glanced up from his crossword and smiled, turning to lift Adele into his lap. “Bonjour, mon papillon. Do you want to help me?”

“Is Sirius okay?”

Dumo paused. His first instinct was to lie—how could he even begin to explain the complexity of the situation to a seven-year-old?—but the brightness in Adele’s big eyes told him she already knew the answer. She was a smart kid. She deserved to know at least some of the truth. “He’s having a tough day,” Dumo said quietly as dishes clinked in the other room. No matter what he and Celeste tried, Sirius insisted on washing up. “He’ll be alright.”

A little furrow appeared between Adele’s eyebrows. “Is it because of us? Because he misses his family now?”

“No, sweetheart, not at all. He just…” The words were impossible to find. “He just doesn’t like holidays very much.”

She worried her lower lip for a moment before wiggling free of his arms. “I’m going to make him feel better.”

“Adele—” Dumo made a grab for her, but she had already scampered out of reach and around the corner to the kitchen. In the three days since Sirius had come back from Thanksgiving, he had already reverted back to his shut-down ghost of a self.

“Excuse me, please,” Adele announced. The sink shut off. “Are you sad?”

That’s certainly one way to do it. Dumo craned his neck to watch their reflections in the glass of the back door without revealing his position. Sirius was always more comfortable around the kids than himself and Celeste. “Quoi?” Sirius asked, turning to face her.

“Are you sad? You’ve been frowny.”

Silence fell for a few seconds. “Ouais, a little,” he said at last. “But I’m not sad because of you.”

“That’s good. Papa said so, too. He says you don’t like holidays, but that’s so silly, because we were just talking about Christmas last week.”

“I like some holidays,” Sirius said haltingly. There was a rustling noise; Dumo saw him pick Adele up and settle her on his hip with a thoughtful tilt to his head. “I’m very excited to spend Christmas with you.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

“Good. I want you to spend all the holidays with us. Will you be frowny on Christmas, too?”

“I don’t think so.” Dumo could practically hear Sirius’ smile. “See? I’m already better.”

“Will you open presents with me? Marc and Louis always open theirs together, and Mama and Papa, but Katie’s too little to do it with me. I like playing Santa, but it means I hafta go last.”

In the glass, Dumo saw Sirius press a raspberry kiss to her cheek until she burst into giggles; his grin lit up the whole kitchen. “Of course I will.”

“You have to smile,” Adele groaned. “You’re scaring off all my customers.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

She turned a big, sunshine grin on him, pressing her fingers into her dimples to exaggerate it. “Big smiles! You like being here! These are the best cookies you’ve ever had! Everyone should try them!”

“They should!” Sirius agreed. “I don’t know why you’re upset!”

She heaved a sigh and clonked her forehead on his stomach, knocking some of the air out of his lungs. “You look scary when you don’t smile.”

“I do not.”

“You do! You’re built like a brick wall and when you’re thinking, you get frowny!” She adjusted her Girl Scout vest and straightened up. “You have to be perky and fun and the cutest little kid on the block.”

“…I might have a problem with the last part.”

“Then I’ll be the cutest little kid on the block,” she said, exasperated.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you think I’m scary?”

“No,” she snorted. “But other people do.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way. Mama looks surprised when her face relaxes, but you’re, like, looming.”

“So…you’re upset with how my face looks?” he teased, dodging her attempt to poke his ribs.

“No, I just don’t need a bodyguard to sell cookies!”

“That’s literally what I’m here for,” he laughed, tugging one of her pigtails until she stuck her tongue out at him. “Alright, madame, I’ll try to be ‘perky’ and ‘fun’.”

“The air quotes weren’t necessary,” she informed him with great gravity, though she couldn’t hide the smile on her face as she turned back to the people walking across the street. “Hey, lady, do you want cookies?”

III

“So,” Logan began, then shoved another handful of pretzel sticks into his mouth. “Dating the captain. What’s that like?”

Sirius looked up from his phone and glared. “I am sitting right next to you.”

“Shush. Loops?”

Remus sighed and let his head fall toward Logan’s armchair; he was starting to get lightheaded from laying upside-down for so long, but it was doing wonders for his lower back and sore feet. “Dating the captain? Pretty cool, to be honest.”

Logan made a noise of disagreement. “I don’t believe that for a second. Does he make you run drills in the basement, or is it just a cuddle party all the time? ‘cause there’s no in-between.”

“Tabarnak,” Sirius muttered, flicking Logan’s ear as he headed out of the room. “You two gossip like middle-schoolers.”

“It’s really not bad,” Remus mused as he stretched one leg toward the curtains. “I’m the one who likes running drills, so he’ll usually watch tape while I do that for a bit. Cuddles aren’t as frequent as you might think. We’re boring.”

“Mmm, with some wild nights in there, eh?” Logan wiggled his eyebrows and Remus chucked a pillow at him, though it did not seem to deter him. “I seem to remember hearing a certain conversation about a new bedframe?”

“A headboard,” Remus corrected, pulling a face at him. “And it was already almost ten years old. You’re just jealous.”

“Ugh, for him? Nah. Peanut might have carried a torch—”

“You’re kidding. Did he really?”

“Oh, yeah,” Logan snorted, as if it was obvious. “But he has better taste now. Honestly, though, I’m glad you two are together. And that you’re happy in your boring domesticity, even if you’re breaking beds left and right.”

“Headboard, and it was one time.”

“Did I ever tell you about—”

The front door slammed open; both of them jumped as something heavy hit the ground with a thud. “Sweetheart?” Celeste asked from the living room, audibly concerned. Remus’ heart dropped and he shared a worried look with Logan, who was already on his feet. “Adele, what’s wrong?”

“Adele?” Logan called, his voice laced with worry. Remus’ heartbeat picked up as Adele appeared in the doorway to the living room with tears streaming down her cheeks, only to throw herself into Logan’s arms with a harsh sob. “Woah, hey, qu’est—”

“Boys are so stupid!” she half-shouted, half-wailed. “And I hate them!”

Remus stood there, useless, as she tore away and sprinted for the backyard, yanking the door shut with a bang before tearing across the grass. “Logan?” he asked after a moment. There was no protocol for this. He had absolutely zero experience with preteen breakdowns, and the Dumais kids always fell into Logan and Sirius’ territory. He could count on one hand the number of actual conversations he had had with Adele.

Logan’s nose twitched; he opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat when Sirius came through the doorway and made a beeline for the yard without a single glance to either of them. “She’ll be okay,” Logan murmured as Sirius walked slowly to the swings, where Adele was sitting on the bench seat with her arms wrapped tight around herself.

“She seems pretty upset.”

Logan shook his head, not taking his eyes off the pair. “I’ve got Katie, he’s got Adele.”

“Yeah?” Remus asked, surprised. Logan and Katie were famous for their bond, two peas in a pod. As far as he knew, Sirius was equally close with all the Dumais kids.

“Apparently, they bonded from day one,” Logan said with the flicker of a smile. Outside, Adele laid her head on Sirius’ shoulder and pulled his arm around her back, burrowing into the softness of his hoodie as he gently rocked the swing with his foot and gave her a light squeeze. “They’re both quieter. Oldest children and all that. You really didn’t know?”

“I…” Remus trailed off and shook his head. “You and Katie are much louder about it, but that makes sense. He talks about all of you all the time., I guess I just assumed it was different since he was so closed off at first.”

Logan hummed. “Ask about it sometime. Dumo always likes talking about them.”

Sirius and Adele walked back after a few more minutes, still attached at the hip as Sirius jostled her lightly and pulled half a smile from her; they entered the house in relative quiet and Adele wrapped her arms around him one more time. “Love you,” she said, voice muffled in his sweater. Sirius rubbed her back in slow circles until she pulled away and padded down the hall to the bathroom

“Children are so mean,” he said as soon as the door closed.

“Then I’m glad she has you.” Remus curled his hand around Sirius’ shoulder and felt him relax beneath his touch. “Is she alright?”

“Some little asshole told her nobody would want to date her because she plays hockey.”

Remus’ heart panged. “How can we help?”

“Teach her how to throw a right hook,” Logan suggested. In a rare turn of events, Remus couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not; from the look on his face, it seemed to be the latter.

“She’ll be okay, baby,” Remus said. Sirius didn’t look away from the closed door. “Kids have always been mean, but the best thing you can do is be there for her, which you just did. It’s hard and it sucks but as long as she knows you love her, that’s enough.”

“Does she?” Sirius asked, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Remus looped an arm around his waist and kissed the top of his shoulder. “She does,” he promised. Without a doubt.

Sirius drummed his hands on the steering wheel with a wide smile. “I’m so excited,” he said for the fourth time in twenty minutes.

“I can tell,” Remus said, still reading through his missed messages. The cell service in customs had been abysmal, and for some godforsaken reason his dad desperately needed to send paragraph updates on his hunt for the perfect holiday lights. Some days, Remus wondered whether he was happiest with his family or in Home Depot.

“I missed them.”

“Yep.”

“And I can’t let Logan get there first.”

“Sure thing, honey. Speed limit.”

“Three weeks is a long time, did you know that?”

“Mhmm. Sirius, speed limit.”

“How do you manage being away from Jules for that long?”

“Very poorly,” Remus said as he typed out a quick response to his dad’s latest text. His mother would end him if he allowed their house to be decorated with anything green—in all honesty, he was starting to think she had a personal rivalry with the Snakes. They turned onto Dumo’s street and he felt the excitement radiating off Sirius kick up several notches. “Deep breaths, love.”

“Ah, fuck me, the cubs are right behind us,” he muttered, pulling over to the curb and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Sirius!” Remus spluttered.

“What?”

“Turn the fucking car off before you get out!”

Sirius heaved a sigh and pulled the key out, then took off toward the house at a jog; Logan went sprinting past the passenger window half a second later, and Remus heard Finn shouting after him from the still-running car to no avail. They reached the front steps at the exact same time, shouldering each other in an attempt to reach the doorbell first.

“—want to push it!” Logan insisted, kicking Sirius lightly on the shin as Remus headed up the walkway.

“You did it last time!” Sirius argued.

“I’m the youngest, so I get to do it!”

“That’s not how it works!”

The door swung open just as Logan tried to bodily shove Sirius out of the way, only to be put in a scrambling headlock. Dumo regarded them with an exhausted look on his face. “Bonjour, Loops.”

“Hey, Dumo,” Remus called from the base of the steps. “Nice night, eh?”

He shrugged, ignoring the two grown men roughhousing on his welcome mat. “Not bad.”

“Are les enfants here?” Logan panted, trying to heave Sirius into the nearest hedge.

Dumo rolled his eyes and opened the door the rest of the way. “Kids, we have visitors!”

Thundering footsteps echoed off the walls; Logan and Sirius tripped over each other in their haste to get inside. “Tremzy!” Katie shrieked, launching herself into his arms with a beaming smile.

Sirius hoisted Adele straight off her feet and shook her back and forth as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. “You were gone forever!” she laughed. “We missed you!”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Logan teased as he set Katie down and opened his arms for a hug of his own. Marc and Louis slammed into him, nearly toppling him in the entryway.

“No, no, no!” Katie giggled as Sirius blew a raspberry kiss on her stomach, only to mimic it on his cheek a moment later. “You’re all scratchy.”

“Tough for kisses,” Remus agreed. “You should tell him to shave, Katie-bird.”

Katie squished his cheeks in her hands with a solemn frown. “No more porcupines.”

“You got it,” Sirius confirmed. “What do you think, Adele?”

She pulled a face and they all dissolved into laughter, exhausted from the long roadie and unable to contain their happiness. It was a tradition Remus was coming to know as he spent more time with the team—Logan and Sirius just couldn’t resist swinging by the Dumais house after a long trip, no matter how drained and battered they were. It was a combination of a competition and a family reunion, and the kids loved it every time.

“Are you staying the night?” Marc asked, lazily tying Sirius’ shoelaces together.

“Not tonight, no.”

“But it would be fun,” Louis said from his place hoisted under Logan’s arm, legs dangling.

“They’re tired, boys, be nice.” Celeste winked at Sirius as he leaned down so she could kiss his cheek before moving to Logan to do the same. “We watched all your games. You were wonderful.”

“Merci, Celeste.” The corners of Logan’s eyes crinkled, and Remus saw Finn and Leo share a smile behind him.

Sirius craned his neck to look back. “Oh, she wasn’t talking to you.”

Logan stuck his tongue out as the kids laughed, still clinging to them both. Remus happily accepted a quick hug and a hair-ruffle from Celeste before she moved on to Finn and Leo, and settled in for a cozy evening at home.

#sirius black #remus lupin #adele dumais #logan tremblay #pascal dumais #celeste dumais #coops #katie dumais #friendship #siblings #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic

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