Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1426645.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Bro/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      Bro_(Homestuck), Dave_Strider, John_Egbert, Jade_Harley, Rose_Lalonde
  Additional Tags:
      abusive_drunk_bro, Abusive_Bro, Stridercest_-_Freeform, Drunk_Sex, poor
      little_davey, Sadstuck, Feels, Angst, suicidal_Dave, Suicide_Attempt,
      Suicide_Notes, Suicidal_Thoughts, Fluff_and_Angst, Depression, Eating
      Disorders, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Mild_Blood, Low_Self_Esteem, Rape/Non-
      con_Elements, Anal_Sex, Blood, Smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-04-07 Updated: 2016-02-23 Chapters: 11/? Words: 11313
****** Tainted Heart ******
by JohnxStrider
Summary
     Your name is Dave Strider, and you hate the fact that your brother
     broke up with his boyfriend, because every night he goes out and gets
     drunk. Unfortunately for you, he’s an abusive drunk.
     Your name is Dirk Strider, but you go by Bro, and you don’t
     understand why Dave flinches every time you reach out to ruffle his
     hair, or why he lied about hurting his leg to avoid strifing with
     you. And those bruises sure do confuse you.
Notes
     New fanfic, yay~
***** Chapter 1 *****
Your name is Dave Strider, and right now, you’re wondering where the hell your
brother is.
It’s three am and you can’t sleep. The TV is blaring but you cannot focus on
the chick flick that is playing. Yesterday was a bad day, because Bro’s
boyfriend of four years broke up with him because he had to move states. Your
brother was in a terrible mood all day, and went out around nine. And now, here
you’re sitting, waiting.
After another ten minutes, you hear the key jiggle in the lock, and you sit up
straight, stifling a yawn as you slowly stand up.
Bro walks in, and he looks like shit. His shades are in one hand and his eyes
are dull and red rimmed. His clothes are all messed up and covered in splotches
of blood. There’s a small frown on his face, and suddenly his eyes turn dark.
You cautiously walk up to him. You’ve never seen Bro drunk before, so you have
to be careful.
“Hey, why were out so—“
In a second, he has you pinned to the ground, his face inches from yours and
his knee in your stomach. Your eyes widen behind your shades and you try to
push him away. His breath reeks of alcohol as he snarls, “You worthless piece
of shit. I don’t know why I even bother raising you.”
He stands and you quickly get to your feet, turning to avoid dealing with him.
But he grabs the back of your shirt, yanks you back, and backhands you across
the face three times. You stumble to the side, and he kicks your stomach,
growling softly. You hiss out between clenched teeth, and punch his shoulder.
That was a very bad move.
He grabs you and throws you across the room, where you land hard on the floor,
crying out this time. Your brother is laughing as he staggers to you, but in a
flash you’re in your room, the door locked, panting as you slide down against
the door.
You sigh, hoping that this won’t happen again.
===============================================================================
 When you wake up in the morning and check your reflection in the mirror, you
groan. There’s a green and purple bruise blossoming across both your cheeks.
Plus, your back is aching from landing on the floor so hard. You sigh and
change into a shirt and jeans before exiting the room, heading for the kitchen.
Bro is sitting on the couch, munching a bowl of Fruit Loops. You make toast for
yourself before sitting next to him, glancing over to see if he remembers how
you got the bruise. He looks at you strangely, arching an eyebrow.
“Did you get into a fight last night?” He questions, and you nod silently,
deciding not to tell him. It isn’t a big deal anyway, and probably won’t happen
again. Besides, he doesn’t even remember, nor would he care.
When the two of you are done eating, you bolt to your room to avoid any
questioning by Bro, and instead mess around on your phone and look for your
headphones in your closet.
After grabbing the box of pop tarts for lunch, you mix a new track. You’re so
caught up in your music that you don’t realize how late it’s getting. By the
time you’ve saved your progress and crept out into the main room, Bro is
already gone. Flopping onto the couch, you turn on the TV and snuggle into your
brother’s blanket, which actually is really comfy.
You fall asleep at some point, and are awoken by a loud bang. You sit up
quickly, looking around, and your eyes focus on a figure that you recognize
instantly as Bro.
“Come here.” He says once he sees you’re awake, his voice hoarse. You set his
blanket to the side and reluctantly walk over to him. He studies your face;
your shades are back in your room. You can see your eyes reflecting off of
Bro’s pointy shades, and start to move back.
He pushes you to the ground and grabs your hair. Your breath hitches in fear as
he throws you at the couch. You just nearly miss it, hitting the hard side and
falling to the ground, your head starting to bleed.
“You are worthless. You will amount to nothing. You’re a little demon, a little
freak who I got stuck with.” He spits out harshly, stomping over to you,
swaying slightly.
You feel tears burn in your eyes, swearing under your breath for leaving your
shades in your room. Bro’s words sting, but he doesn’t really mean them, you’re
sure. He punches you in the eye, and your hands cover your face, your breaths
coming faster than normal.
He rips your hands from your face, and as you stare into his angry, hateful
orange eyes, you realize you’re afraid. This is the man who raised you, who’s
never hurt you besides strifing, who used to take care of anyone beating you up
when you were younger—and you’re scared of him.
He sneers, but lets you go, stumbling to his room. You sit there, head between
your knees as you try not to cry. You aren’t weak, you can get through two
nights of your brother being a little rough. Besides, it won’t happen again.
Your name is Dave Strider, and you could not be any more wrong.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     The next few weeks are bad for Dave, yet he starts to develop
     feelings for a certain someone.
Chapter Notes
     Thanks for all the comments :D They make me so happy!
Your name is Dave Strider, and you're wondering why your life has suddenly
become an intense struggle.
Every single night, for a week, Bro's been coming home drunk, and every single
morning you wake up with more than one injury. Every day, he gets more and more
rough and violent. When your brother questions you, you just reply with some
excuse. Every time it changes.
"I got in a fight."
"I fell."
"I got hit by a soccer ball."
And you know he doesn't care, because your excuses are so fucking stupid. He
just nods whenever you mumble an excuse or just shrug. 
Sighing, you walk into the kitchen to get a glass of apple juice. It's around
four, and you decide to visit your favorite music store to see if they have any
new CD's. You end up getting lunch after making trips to three separate stores.
By the time you get back, it's nine. You expect your brother to be already out,
and flop onto the couch, turning on the TV.
An hour later, you hear the door open, and tense up. You are greeted by a beer
bottle being thrown in your direction. You slide off the couch and duck as it
smashes into the wall behind you. You don't know why you wait for him every
night. As you scurry down the hall, he charges at you, grabbing your shirt and
nearly ripping it as he yanks you back. Uncoordinated, Bro loses his balance
and you both topple back. You leap off of him and run for your room.
Once you're in the safety of your comforting blankets, you relax and allow
yourself to drift off to sleep.
===============================================================================
The next day, you're out all day, just walking around, not giving a fuck that
people are staring at your bruised face and black eye. By the time you get
back, it's midnight.  You creep into the apartment and lock the door behind
you. You suddenly hear moans and grunts coming from your brother's room. You
freeze up as you hear an unfamiliar male voice moan, "Fuck, ah!"
Your stomach drops and your heart is pounding as you edge into your room,
feeling a bitter taste enter your mouth. You don't know why it's such a big
deal; who cares if Bro sleeps with another guy? But just the thought of that
makes you sick, and...jealous.
You're jealous? No, that can't be. That would mean you like Bro, who is your
brother. You shake it off as disgust for your brother messing around, and go to
sleep.
===============================================================================
 You are awoken by Bro the next morning. He looks pissed, and you jump off the
bed and stand up, raising an eyebrow at him.
"What?" You ask, annoyed.
He narrows his eyes, flash stepping over to you. He raises a hand, and without
thinking you flinch, shrinking back as if you've been branded. Bro freezes, and
you can see the outline of his eyes behind his shades widen.
"Dave..?" He asks slowly, lowering his hand after a pause. You swallow hard and
take another step back. Your eyes are rapidly filling with tears and you're
scared, you're scared he's going to hurt you. 
"Dave, what the hell is going on?" He furrows his brows, and you just shake
your head, biting your lip hard. This is not how you normally act, and you know
that he knows it. You hold your ground, lip quivering ever so slightly as he
approaches you.
And then you dart past him, into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You
know Bro always tell you to fight, not flee, but in this case, you just
couldn't face him. Burying your head in between your knees, you take deep
breaths, closing your eyes.
Your brother is knocking on the door, but you ignore it. You'll stay in here
the whole day, anything to avoid talking to him about you flinching. Plus, you
were starting to feel like you actually did like Bro.
Your name is Dave Strider, and you are confused as fuck. 
***** Chapter 3 *****
Your name is Bro Strider and you don’t know what you’ve done wrong.
Sure you aren’t the best guardian by a long shot. You sometimes isolate in your
room by yourself, or forget to talk to Dave for a few days. But your little bro
is strong; he can handle himself. Or so you always thought.
Right now, you’re standing outside the bathroom where he absconded to, knocking
hard on the door.
“Dave, open the fucking door right now or I’m going to break it down.” You say
bluntly and harshly, trying the bad cop routine first. You hear a muffled sob,
and your heart twists a little.
“Dave, c’mon. Let’s just talk this out.” You try again in a more gentle tone,
trying to coax him out.
You hear nothing, so you slam your body weight against the door. Dave gives a
little yelp of surprise as you crash through the door. He sidesteps past you
and makes a run for the door, but you lunge forwards and grab his shirt with
more force than intended. In a second, you’ve ripped his shirt right down the
middle to expose his bruised and cut up chest.
“Dave…holy shit. Who did this to you…?” Your eyes widen behind your pointy
shades, and you stare at your brother’s red eyes, frowning deeply. He swallows
another sob and shakes his head quickly, ripping out of your grasp and running
to the front door. You flash step in front of him.
“I don’t think so, lil man.”
You peer at him with confusion as he starts to tremble. He looks…genuinely
scared of you. You don’t like that; you want Dave to love you. You want Dave to
feel like he’s safe with you. Something is wrong, something is very wrong here.
“Dave. Who hurt you? Tell me, I swear I’ll fuck them up.” You growl slightly,
clenching your fists, and he flinches. He actually flinches.
Your eyes widen, and you allow the boy to dart past you and out the door,
hearing his sobs. You sigh and rub your temples, slumping onto the couch.
You’ll deal with him when he comes back.
However, he doesn’t come back by ten, and you’re pissed off now. You decide to
go out drinking again, the pain of Jake too much for you to cope with. You
nibble your lip as you grab your keys and head out the door, ready to drink the
pain away.
~x~
Your name is Dave Strider, and oh god you are in a lot of trouble.
You’re running along the sidewalk, your shirt ripped and your chest showing.
You receive weird looks as you finally slow down, trying to cover your bruised
and beat up chest with your torn shirt. Damn your Bro for ripping it. Damn him
for making you feel like shit. Damn him for being so attractive and making you
have these weird thoughts.
You feel tears well in your eyes and suddenly realize you forgot your shades at
home. Shit. You avert your eyes to the ground, not caring when you bump into
people. You hate your freakish eyes and you don’t want to let anyone else see
them.
Eventually you find yourself at a small coffee shop, and walk inside. It smells
like coffee and tea, and the warm aroma comforts you. You slide into a booth,
taking a deep breath, and put your head on the table. This way, no one can see
your beaten up chest.
“You ok, dearie?” A kind voice makes you look up, and you see a smiling elderly
lady holding a steaming cup of what appears to be tea. You nod slowly, keeping
your eyes on the table to spare her from your demonic red gaze.
“Here, it’s on the house. You look like you need it.” She sets the cup down in
front of you and walks away to help a customer before you can thank her. A tin
smile breaks your stoic mask as you watch her leave. You sip your tea silently.
It has the faint taste of mint, and warms you up nicely.
Eventually you leave the shop and just wander around the city, not wanting to
go home and face your brother. With a sigh, you glance at your phone and
realize it’s getting late. It’s almost midnight.
You creep inside the apartment, slide your key back into your pocket, and look
around cautiously. The lights are off and there’s no noise to be heard. You
decide Bro must not be home and relax, going to your room. you slip into bed
and relax, closing your eyes and trying not to cry.
Your name is Dave Strider, and you have a lot of secrets.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Dave gets a taste of what's to come from this new side of Bro.
Chapter Notes
     Huehuehue I hope I am giving you lovely fuckers some feels up in
     here.
     Also, warning: Non-con up ahead.
Your name is Dave Strider, and you're tired as fuck.
You sigh as you walk home from John's house. He is the only one who has noticed
how out of character you've been, but you don't want to tell him about the
bruises.
You're afraid he'll tell someone and Bro will get in trouble if the truth comes
out. 
Taking a deep breath, you collapse on the couch once you're home and turn on
the TV, waiting for your brother to get home from the bar as you do every
night. This is the second week that he's been going out, and you're not sure
how much more abuse you can take. You sigh and lazily flick through the
channels, finally settling on an old action movie to satisfy your boredom.
 You hear the front door creak open and your head whips around. You jump to
your feet and try to make a run for it, but tonight Bro is more coordinated and
faster than usual. He grabs you from around the waist and yanks you back,
pinning you against the edge of the counter. You squirm as the edge digs into
your side.
"Hey, lil man. Think you were going to get away?" He chuckles darkly, and your
breath hitches as his hand slips up your shirt. He tweaks one of your nipples,
and you squirm more. It feels nice, but also wrong. You don't want his
attention in this way, when he's drunk and forceful.
"Bro, stop." You demand, turning around and facing him. His shades slip down
the bridge of his nose, revealing his bright orange eyes that pierce right
through you. You swallow hard as he gives you a dark smirk. 
"S-stop!" You try to move away as he forces a hand down your pants, starting to
rub your growing erection. Tears bubble up in your eyes as you strain against
his hard, muscular chest. You don't want this, not like this. 
"Oh, stop struggling, Davey. You know you like this." He pulls his hand out of
your pants and starts to nibble on your neck. You tremble, all your usual
strength gone. You bite your lip and shove him back as he grinds against you.
"Bro, I mean it! Stop!" Your voice is panicky and you feel a few tears slip
down your cheeks as he begins to touch your member again. He just laughs at
your attempts to get away, orange eyes cold. 
Eventually he steps away, once there's a mark on your neck and you're panting
softly. 
You manage to run to your room, and he doesn't follow, just laughs as you slam
the door behind you and collapse on the floor, rubbing quickly at the tears
that keep appearing in the corner of your eyes. Breathing heavily, you try and
calm yourself before you have a panic attack. Lately, your anxiety has been
shooting sky high and you don't know how to deal with it. Rose is no help with
her therapy bullshit, and you don't want Jade's pity.
You sniffle before curling up on your side, the one that isn't bruised as
badly. Lately, most of your bruises have turned an ugly shade of purple and are
impossible to touch without feeling a sore pain. Sighing softly, you close your
eyes and drift off to sleep.
When you wake up, you take a quick shower and head to the kitchen for
breakfast. It's still early, so you don't expect your brother to be awake,
making what smells like...pancakes? He hasn't made those for you since you were
a little kid. You step cautiously near him, raising an eyebrow when he turns
around with a small grin. You make sure your shades are planted firmly on your
face and your hand is covering the mark on your neck before asking him, "What's
the occasion?"
"Can't I make pancakes for my little bro without a reason?" He raises an
eyebrow at you in return, and you flash step to the fridge and shrug, pulling
out an AJ bottle. You sit at the table as he serves you, with syrup and butter
and even whipped cream. He isn't wearing his shades, and as you stare into his
warm orange eyes you try to calm that damn anxiety of yours again.
You suddenly don't feel very hungry, but you force down five pancakes anyway,
touched Bro made them for you. as you put your plate in the sink and turn
around, you find yourself cornered by your brother. He's frowning, shades back
on his face so you can't see his eyes. But you can just tell he's staring at
your neck. Shit. You hide the mark with your hand, but it's too late.
"Is that a fucking hickey, Dave?" He asks in disbelief, and you bite your lip
before nodding slowly. There's no us in denying the obvious. 
"Who?" Is all your brother asks as he examines you closely, pulling your shirt
up to reveal your bruised stomach and chest. You flinch and move away. 
"Who keeps doing this to you, Dave? Please, I need to know." He asks, a
desperate note in his voice.
"His name is Aaron." You blurt out of nervousness, biting your lip to keep from
swearing. Way to go, Dave. Just make up a fake guy and tell him to the guy who
really hurts you!
"Where does he live? Tell me, I swear I'll kill him." Bro clenches his fists
and growls, and you can see the outline of his eyes narrow behind his pointy
shades. 
You shake your head quickly. "No, he won't bother me again, I swear!" He
relaxes a little but still looks upset. "If you're sure..." Is all he says
before starting to clean up the pancake mess. You heave a sigh and grab your
jacket before heading out the door. 
You need to get out of the house and just take some time to yourself.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     More feels. Mostly sweet stuff.
Chapter Notes
     Thanks for all the kudos guys ^-^ They mean a lot to me!
Your name is Bro Strider, and you think Dave is lying to you.
No, wait, scratch that. You know Dave is lying to you. For the past week, he's
been acting even worse than usual, and there are more and more hickeys and
bruises showing up on his neck and chest. He claims the Aaron guy has been
leaving him alone, but you know that isn't true. You don't know how to help
him, and it frustrates you because you want to help him, want to make him feel
better. 
You sigh as you come home from the grocery store, starting to unload poptarts
and apple juice onto the counter. You notice Dave's asleep on the couch, and
smile softly, walking over to him. You gently stroke his blonde hair, noticing
 how soft it is...it isn't weird how much you love your younger brother,
right? 
You love Dave. He's family. But lately you feel something stir inside of your
chest whenever you see him. And especially nowadays, with those horrible
bruises covering his body, you want to wrap your arms around him and protect
him. Eventually, as you're munching on chips in the kitchen, he wakes up,
taking his blanket with you to his room. But you're having none of that now.
You need to talk to him.
You steer him towards the couch and sit him down with some apple juice and
Doritos, looking at him with an unreadable expression on your face, shades set
on the bridge of your nose. He looks confused, and you start to talk.
"I need to know what's been going on, Dave. You come home every day with these
nasty bruises all over you. I know that guy is still hitting you. Tell me where
he lives so I can beat the shit out of him and teach him a lesson. No one hurts
my little bro and gets away with it." You growl.
For a second, Dave looks like he wants to laugh, then his face crumples like
he's going to cry. He takes a deep breath and responds, "I told you, Bro. I'm
fine. I can handle this on my own."
"No you can't! You come home looking like you've been in a bunch of fights and
lost them all!" You yell, and he practically melts into the couch. You pinch
the bridge of your nose, regretting your harsh tone, and try to lower your
voice. 
 "I want to help you, Dave." You speak softly, and he throws your blanket to
the floor and jumps to his feet.
"Well you can't help me!" He snaps, rubbing his eyes underneath his shades, his
hands curling into fists.
"Dave. I can. You just have to--"
"Leave me alone, just leave me alone Bro!" Dave shoves past you and into his
bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him loudly. You sigh and collapse on the
couch after picking up your blanket. You don't know how to solve this problem
with Dave. You don't need anyone else's therapy bullshit, you can do this
yourself. 
Right?
===============================================================================
Your name is Dave Strider and you don't know how to feel. 
You collapse on your bed, tears streaming down your face. You wanted to tell
Bro everything, how he's been hitting you and touching you and making you feel
so upset. But you couldn't. You just couldn't. You scrub at your face, getting
rid of your tears, and lean against the pillow. Sniffling, you hug your knees
to your chest and wonder how you ever got into this situation.
A few seconds later, there's a knock on your door, and you jump, biting your
lip nervously. You don't want to face him. But he continues to knock, and you
know he won't leave you alone until the two of you talk. So, you get up and
open the door, staring down at the floor.
"Davey...what's wrong?" Bro breathes out, tilting your chin up. Your exposed
red eyes meet his shades, and you bite your lip. 
"I hate seeing you sad, I hate seeing you upset." You try your best not to
break down in his arms and instead shrug, leaning in to wrap your arms around
him.
He pulls you against his muscular chest gently, tucking your head under his
chin, and you relax. This is nice. This is what you want. Sweet touches,
comforting gestures. Instead, you get fearsome hits and drunk forcefulness. You
try and push that out of your mind for now and concentrate on Bro and how he
smells like a combination of oranges and spices. 
When he finally pulls away, he presses his lips to your forehead gently. "I
love you."
"I love you too." You respond thickly, your throat closing up as you try not to
betray your true emotions to him. He gives a sad little smile and walks off,
leaving you to close your door and curl up on your bed. 
Later on that day, you sneak his blanket from the couch back into your room and
wrap it around yourself, sitting at your desk. You put on a movie on Netflix on
your computer and get some snacks for yourself, munching on popcorn as you
watch the shark attack movie. Eventually you fall asleep, head falling onto the
desk.
You stir a little and blink your eyes up at Bro, who's carrying you to his
room. You relax on the bed, curling up as he shushes you and kisses the top of
your head. He lays down next to you, and you melt into his warm embrace,
pulling him closer to you. You snuggle into his chest, and feel him chuckle
before he hugs you close. You fall asleep soon enough, extremely comfortable
and warm and...happy.
Your name is Dave Strider, and boy that happiness doesn't last long.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     Well...it's feels city, population reader who is probably going to
     cry (aka you).
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
You sigh as you snuggle in your brother's blanket. It's around 11 pm the next
night and your brother still isn't home. He'll probably wander home and pass
out on the floor like he did last night, so you aren't too worried about it.
That's why you freeze up and start to panic internally when his hand curls
around your throat and he lifts you up off the couch, shaking you. You didn't
even hear him come in through the door.
"It's play time, Davey." 
His voice is low and rough and you try to squirm out of his grasp, fearing what
is to happen. But he slams you onto your back on the counter, swiping plates
onto the floor to make room for you. You start to panic, hyperventilating as he
rips your shirt off, tearing it straight down the middle. Your shades get flung
onto the floor as you struggle, and your exposed red eyes meet his piercing
orange ones.
"Bro-" You try to say something, try to make him stop, but it's no use. You can
tell he's smirking when he chuckles darkly and starts to pull off your pants.
"No...no!" You gasp, losing it and starting to cry. He slaps you, hard, and a
choked sob escapes your throat. Your pants, along with his, slide to the ground
and you hear his own belt buckle clink as it hits the ground. 
Realization sinks in of what's about to happen and you struggle, trying to
fight against his strength, but it's no use. He clearly outpours you. You feel
tears run down your face as he yanks your boxers off in one fluid motion, a
smirk on his face. You look up with wide eyes, protesting once more.
"Bro, please-" Your voice cracks and he slaps you again. You wince and look to
the side, sniffling a bit. This can't be happening, your racing mind tells you.
Bro holds you down by the throat with one hand and pulls off his boxers with
the other. He smirks down at you.
""Ready, Davey?" He asks in that same rough and low voice, and your anxiety and
hysteria kicks up a few notches.
Without any warning, he slams into you, and you cry out loudly, not able to
stop yourself. Pain shoots through your body, and he gives a grunt, muttering
at how tight you are.
You wince and try to do something, try to push him away, but it's no use. He
holds you down and thrusts into you again with a sheer amount or force. You
whimper, fresh tears springing into your eyes. He begins to thrust in and out
of you at a hard, steady pace. You tremble and gasp, forced moans escaping your
lips.
This isn't what you want; maybe you've imagined having sex with your brother,
but never like this. Not with his hand pressing against your throat, not with
tears streaming down your face.
You're aware of a scream, a high pitched scream that won't stop, and it isn't
until Bro shoves his lips onto yours, growling at you to shut up, do you
realize it had been you. You struggle against this, not wanting him to kiss
you. Not like this.
In a few minutes it's all over. He releases inside of you, and you feel the
sticky white substance fill you up. He grabs your length and begins to jerk you
off, grinning cruelly at your panic stricken face.
"N-no-" You gasp, not wanting to feel any more forced pleasure. But it's too
late; you cum all over his hand, and he wiped it on your stomach. He slaps your
ass one last time before letting you go and walking away, not bothering to pick
his clothes up off the floor.
You slide to the ground with a thud and lie there, breathing heavily. Your eyes
slide shut, and you lie there, hate yourself.
Chapter End Notes
     Yeah, so, i don't approve of rape/non-con, but this is purely
     fictional and I think I did a decent job of writing this. Comments
     are always appreciated ^.^
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Summary
     Bro tries to spend time with his little bro, but Dave freaks out.
Chapter Notes
     uwu Thanks for all the comments I'm getting~
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When you finally gain the strength to climb to your feet, your knees wobble and
nearly buckle underneath you. You grip the edge of the counter to steady
yourself and look down at the ground as a wave of dizziness washes over you.
You scoop up your clothes from the ground and stumble your way to your room.
You need a hot shower, desperately. 
You drop the clothes into your laundry hamper and turn on the shower, feeling
dizzy once more. Giving your head a little shake, you try your best not to
dwell on what had happened just a few hours ago. The pain still cuts into your
mind like a sharp knife, and you're sore all over. Not to mention you have
various marks on your neck from Bro. You shudder, feeling a wave of anxiety
overwhelm you for a second, and you stand there in the shower under the warm
water, shaking and starting to sob. 
After the attack passes, you wash your body slowly and carefully, cleaning
every inch of your skin. You want no trace of him left on you. After you
shampoo your hair and rinse off, you turn the shower off and pat yourself dry.
Bro was so rough that with every step you take, your hips ache with a dull
pain. Sighing deeply, you pull on a fresh pair of clothes and fall into your
bed, dozing off almost immediately. 
It's around ten when you wake up. You smell eggs and bacon as you sit up in
your bed and stretch, almost immediately regretting that idea when you wince.
You know that your brother is making you breakfast, but you're too scared to
face him. You know you have to, so you change into jeans and a hoodie, brush
your teeth, and exit the bedroom,  ready to face your tormentor as of last
night.
"Hey lil man. How did you sleep?" Bro turns around to greet you, a small smile
on his lips. His shades are propped on his head, and he's wearing an apron
decorated with smuppets. 
You bite your lip hard, feeling your hands start to shake, and shove them in
your pocket. "Fine." You manage to say, and he nods, going back to flipping
over an egg. You sit at the table and take deep breaths. You can feel your
brother's eyes on you, but you say nothing to explain your weird behavior. What
can you say? You don't know if you'll ever tell him what he's done to you. 
He eventually places a plate with eggs and bacon on the table in front of you,
along with a cup of apple juice. You give him a small smile in response,
staring into his amber eyes. Yesterday those eyes were so cruel and cold, but
today they're warm and affectionate. It's amazing how you could still love your
brother.
You know you're still hopelessly in love with Bro. You don't think you'll ever
stop loving him, no matter what he does to you, and that's the sad part. You
sometimes feel like you deserve better, but then thoughts of how disgusting you
are overpower your mind and you realize that you don't deserve real love. He'd
never like you back, your mind tells you. 
"Davey, you ok?" Bro's voice is soft and kind and you want to fall to the
ground and just cry, just confess everything and have him hold you in his arms.
But since you know that isn't going to happen, you force the bile that's been
rising in your throat down and force out a reply.
"Yeah. Just thinking about something." You take a bite of your eggs and swig
your apple juice, relishing the familiar taste that gives you comfort.
Bro leans over and reaches out a hand, probably to mess up your hair like he
always does. But all you see is a hand coming towards you, ready to slap the
shit out of you, and you flinch away, your lip trembling. His eyes widen
slightly and he frowns, eyebrows furrowing over his concerned eyes. 
"Dave?" He asks in a soft voice, and you stand up, turning to flee to your
room. You can't handle this anymore. His changing personalities are messing
with your heart. 
But with your sore and slow movements, he's in front of you in a flash,
blocking your path. He puts a hand on your cheek and lifts up your face. There
are not tears in your eyes, there are not tears in your eyes-
"Why is your face bruised?" He asks after a pause, and his voice is dead
serious. You wince at the question, and he sighs. 
"Okay. You don't have to answer. How about you and me watch a movie? You know
that shitty anime one you like? And I'll feed you popcorn and candy." He
soothes, pulling you close. Your head meets his chest, and you close your eyes
briefly. The offer to snuggle up with him is too tempting to resist, even
though you're half-scared thinking he'll hurt you again.
"Okay." You whisper softly, pulling back as you feel his strong abs underneath
his shirt. He's so much stronger than you, no wonder he hurt you so much last
night....there you go again, thinking about it. 
Bro sets up the couch with pillows and blankets as you finish your breakfast.
As you crawl onto the couch and slip under a blanket, you hear the popcorn
starting to pop in the microwave. A hand on your head suddenly makes you
flinch, but you soon relax as Bro's hand starts to slowly massage your head,
running his fingers through your blonde locks. You sigh in content, forgetting
about your previous fears. You tilt your head back and open your eyes. He takes
this opportunity to let his lips brush across your forehead, and you smile
slightly.
The microwave dinging loudly, indicating that the popcorn is done, interrupts
your peaceful moment. Bro moves away and gets the snacks to the coffee table.
You sigh and snuggle into the blanket, turning on the TV. Bro's already put the
movie in, so you play it. He comes and sits next to you, and his sudden
presence causes your anxiety to rise. You force yourself to relax and take deep
breaths.
He slings an arm around your shoulder and uses his hand to feed you popcorn,
which you can't help but smile at. This man being the one who raped you less
than 24 hours ago? Almost impossible to believe. You give your head a little
shake and try and focus on the movie. The plot is developing quite nicely,
though you already know how everything is going to work out. At this point,
you're lazily snacking on Doritos, your head on Bro's shoulder. Everything was
going fine, up until now.
Bro attempts to pull you into his lap and you freak out. You start to tremble
and push him away, lunging forwards. He tightens his grip around your waist,
successfully pulling you into his lap. Your back presses against his chest, and
you feel tears well in your eyes. He's going to hurt you again, he's going to
rip off your clothes and make you do things again-
"Bro, stop, please, stop!" You sob, tears trickling down your cheeks as you
thrash around. He flips you onto the couch and pins you down. At this point,
you scream, terrified. His eyes widen.
"Dave, stop! What's wrong?!" He sounds bewildered and angry, and you stare up
at him, your chest heaving with sobs. 
"Don't hurt me, please, please!" You beg, and he lets go of your wrists. You
shoot up and fall off the couch, immediately scrambling to your feet. You race
into your room and lock the door behind you before falling onto your bed and
sobbing.
Your name is Dave Strider, and you hate yourself. 
Chapter End Notes
     Next chapter in Bro's view, I think. Leave a comment and tell me what
     you think?
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm going to start replying to comments that really make me happy. So
     if you type out a few words (which is still appreciated), I probably
     won't reply, but a more lengthy comment will. I don't know why my
     reply would even actually matter?? But yeah. Just putting it out
     there.
     I've also updated the hashtags on this fanfic, so please look at them
     now. They're important.
Your name is Bro Strider, and you are not a bad guardian.
At least you don't think you are. Yes, Dave isn't the best behaved child, and
he hadn't been acting normal for the past few weeks, but that isn't your fault,
right?
Maybe you haven't been paying enough attention to him. But when you tried to
pull him onto your lap earlier, he completely freaked out and ran to his room.
Sigh.
Right now, you're sitting on the couch with your face in your hands, listening
to his sobs. They're heart wrenching, really. You bite your lip and run your
hands through your hair before giving a soft sigh. You need to make things
right, and now. You rise up from the couch and walk over to Dave's room. You
knock on his door.
"Lil man?" You say quietly, and he suddenly stops crying, soft little breaths
coming from inside. You try to turn the handle and are not surprised to find
it's locked. 
You grab a bobby pin from your room and picklock the door, opening it and
slipping inside quickly. Dave tries to run for the bathroom, but you scoop him
up and toss him onto the bed. He squirms as you gently push him onto his back.
 "Dave. I'm not going to hurt you." You stare down into his beautiful, teary
red eyes, and his hands fly up to push you back. You don't budge, however. 
"I promise. I won't hurt you." 
His breathing slows and he relaxes. As you look down at him, his shirt is
pulled down a little, and you notice a harsh purple hickey marked into his
shoulder. You gently prod it and frown, staring at Dave. 
"Who did this?" You ask, and he shakes his head quickly, his body trembling.
You suddenly notice how frail he is. Now that you think of it, other than the
occasional breakfast you make him, he doesn't really eat. Concern floods you as
you lean down and brush you lips across his forehead. At first he flinches, but
then he relaxes, opening his eyes and gazing up at you with those big eyes of
his.
You have to admit, you've been thinking thoughts of your little brother that
aren't entirely appropriate. You think back to that time in the shower, when
you thought about how gorgeous his naked, slightly sweaty body would look
beneath yours, how his sweet little moans would sound-
But no. You can't ever have that. So you push those dirty thoughts out of your
mind and instead focus on Dave in the moment. 
"Who has been hurting you? Is it that Aaron guy? Tell me where he lives so I
can...talk to him." It was obvious from the way you said 'talk,' however, that
you were probably going to kick his ass, and Dave shook his head quickly. 
"N-no, it isn't him." He whispers. You frown.
"Then who? John?" You question. The Egbert kid isn't as tall as Dave, but with
how weak and frail he looks to you right now, you are sure he can take your
little brother.
"Of course it isn't Egbert." He huffs softly wiping some tears away and sitting
up. He pushes you back, and your frown deepens.
"Dave, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on." You snap, a
hard edge in your tone now. He narrows his eyes, despite looking beaten up.
"I don't need your help!" He yells, and to be honest, the words sting. They
really do.
You realize, despite having raised Dave to care of himself, maybe all along
you've wanted to be part of his life. That pushing him away and teaching him to
do the same to others wasn't really a smart thing to do, it just hurt you in
the long run. 
"Just-just leave me alone." He stands up, grabs his shades off his bedside
table, and leaves the apartment, slamming the front door loudly. You sigh. 
===============================================================================
 Your name is Dave Strider, and you want to die. 
 You run down the street, tears in your eyes, and slide on your shades. You
aren't watching where you're going, and you stumble a little into the street.
You hear a whoosh of air and feel the wind rush up against you. Eyes widening,
you turn your head to the side to realize a truck has just zoomed past you,
almost hitting you. You slump to the curb and put your head in your hands,
feeling dizzy.
"Dave?" 
You lift your head up slowly, seeing Jade standing next to you with a worried
expression on her face. She's biting her lip, green eyes wide with worry from
behind her round glasses. 
"Are you okay?" She holds a hand up for you to take, and silently, you climb to
your feet with her help.
"Well? Are you?" She asks again. You think of Bro fucking you painfully into
the counter, and your eyes water. You're thankful you have your shades on. You
shake your head in response to her question. 
"Let's go see Rose." She takes your arm and drags you down the sidewalk.
Pursing your lips, you think better of arguing with her. When Jade's mind is
set, she doesn't take no for an answer. That doesn't mean you're dreading to
see Rose. She'll see right through you like she always does. 
When you finally reach the Lalonde residence, you're surprised to see John
talking to Rose in hushed tones in the kitchen. You sit on the couch, inclining
your head at the two. Jade joins them and you can't hear the words, but you
know those whispers are about you. 
"Dave!" John runs into the living room and flops down next to you, throwing his
arms around your thin frame and hugging you tightly. You wince as he squeezes
your bruises, and try not to make any noises of pain.
"Sup, Egbert. Lalonde." You look over Rose carefully as she stands in front of
you, purple eyes narrowed in concentration. John lets go of you and bites his
lip with his oversized front teeth. 
"You don't look very good." She says after a few seconds, referring to your
black eye and your cut up face. 
"Nice to see you too." You shoot back sarcastically, crossing your arms. You
aren't in the mood for her therapy bullshit today.
"What's wrong?" She crosses her arms too. "How did you get so beat up?"
You just stare at her. John comes to your apparent rescue. "He doesn't wanna
talk about it, Rose!"
"Oh? So you know?" She turned to him. He nodded, blue eyes wide.
"Yes! And he doesn't have to tell you." John gave her a look. You want to laugh
a little; of course John doesn't know the truth. 
 "Let me guess: he told you some guy is beating him up?" Rose glares at the
raven-haired boy, who opens his mouth then closes it.
"He's lying. Something else is wrong." Rose turns to you again with
sharp purple eyes. You glare back, and know she can feel your stare despite
your shades being on.
"I'm okay. I'm handling the situation." You speak slowly, and Jade puts her
hands on her hips, expression fierce.  
"You nearly got hit by a truck when I came up to you earlier today!" She nearly
yells, and you flinch back. 
There's silence for a second, for everyone to take in the words and the fact
that you just flinched. You were losing your cool facade, and fast; you had to
salvage the situation before you broke down. Taking a deep breath, you stand
up. John tries to grab your arm but you push him away gently.
 "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I'm leaving now." You stand
up but Rose doesn't back away. 
"No, you aren't. Sit your ass down, David." She means business, and you swear
mentally. This isn't going to go down well.
"I'm leaving, Rose. Get the fuck out of my way." You don't want to push her,
but you have to make her move.
You take a step to the right and bolt towards the door, but Jade is there,
blocking your way. You dash towards the window and manage to get it open before
John grabs you around the waist. Panic envelops you as began to
hyperventilate. 
"Let go!" You wail as John's tightens his grip around your waist. 
"Dave?" He says, shocked as tears run down your face. You have to abscond, now.
Your breath is coming in short little gasps and your head is spinning. You
throw yourself out the window and land in the soft grass before standing up and
beginning to run.
Your name is Dave Strider, and your life is a mess.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     I got so many comments :D Thank you guys for being so supportive!
     Also, my head canon when it comes to Karkat and Dave interactions is
     that Karkat is taller. Also, Karkat's Irish in this.
     Fight me.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Your name is Dave Strider, and you don't what to do.
You're currently running as fast as you can down the street, away from the
house, away from them. They don't understand. You can handle the situation; you
can handle your brother. They don't need to know. They can't know. 
"Watch where you're going!" You run into someone and bounce back onto the
ground. You look up into glowing gold eyes of a tall, scowling male. His
expression softens once he sees your tears, and he holds out a hand after a
second.
You hesitantly take it and rise to your feet, biting your lip. You wipe at your
tears and adjust your shades, your gaze locked with those of the red-haired
male's.
"Thanks." You tell him, starting to step aside, but he steps aside. 
"Hold on, idiot. You're shaking and crying. You're in no place to be going
anywhere alone." He huffed and rolled his eyes, as if you were annoying him.
Confused, you part your lips nervously and run your tongue over your bottom
lip.
"I-"
"Come on, fuckass." He grabs your wrist and leads you into a nearby cafe, his
Irish accident becoming more prominent with every word he utters. You let him
pull you, too drained to protest. 
"Now. Why the hell were you running like that, eh?" He questions, scowl
returning as he stares at your shades with hard gold eyes.
"None of your business." You mumble, leaning back in your seat and crossing
your arms. 
"I think it is my business, considering you nearly knocked me into the fucking
street." He counters with a glare.
"I don't even know you." You huff at him, narrowing your eyes. 
"You know what? Why do I even bother?" He stands up abruptly and storms away.
You open your mouth and then close it, groaning softly. Maybe he is just trying
to help. But you don't need help from anyone. 
"Are you going to order anything? If not, get out." A waitress walks over and
places her hands on hips, raising an eyebrow.
You decide you aren't hungry and stand up, making your way outside and
wandering around. You know you're probably worrying Bro, but you no longer
care. You find the nearest bar and slip inside, sitting at the counter. You
know you look older than 18, even though you're only 17, so no one questions
you. You immediately start ordering drinks, taking shots every few seconds. In
minutes, you're drunk. 
The next few hours are hazy. You recall someone ordering you more drinks and
carrying you to a back room, but then dropping you. Groaning softly, you try
and sit up but find yourself too dizzy. Someone grabs you by the waist and
hauls you up, and you look up into blazing orange eyes before you pass out. 
When you wake up, it's definitely the next morning. You're laying in your bed,
sunlight streaming in through the windows, and the covers are neatly draped
across your body. You groan and sit up, holding your head. You have a massive
headache...what had happened yesterday? You remember going to the bar and
taking the shots, but nothing after that.
You get up and go to the bathroom, splashing your face with water in efforts to
wake yourself up more. You then make your way out to the kitchen, where you're
greeted by an angry looking Bro. He gives you a glare, to which you roll your
eyes in return.
"What?" You sit at the table and he puts a plate of bacon and eggs in front of
you angrily. 
"You got drunk yesterday."
"So?"
"You're underage."
"Since when do you care?"
 Bro slams his fists on the table, making you jump and you plate quiver. 
"Cut the bullshit, Dave! I mean it. You know I care." He glares at you, and you
swallow hard before gaining the courage to respond.
"Maybe if you acted like it I would think differently. Maybe if you didn't get
drunk every night and come back at 3 am! maybe if you actually showed some love
towards me I would actually feel like you cared!" You yell at him, standing up.
"Sit down, Dave." His voice is cold and demanding. You push your chair back and
head for the door.
"No."
In a flash he grabs you. Panic overtakes you and you struggle in his grasp, but
this time he doesn't let go. He doesn't even loosen his grip a little. 
"Bro-please-let go..." You beg, tears pooling in your eyes. Your breaths come
faster as he carries you over to the couch and throws you down roughly,
glowering down. You inhale shakily and squirm away, wishing you had your shades
to cover your teary, scared eyes. 
"This is enough. You're going to tell me what's going on right now, or else."
He says in an even tone, though his eyes are blazing. You don't ask about the
'or else' part. 
"I told you already. It's nothing I can't handle." You snap at him, your voice
trembling. He furrows his eyebrows angrily, clearly not understanding you don't
wanna talk about it.
 "Dave, damn it! I want to help!" He roars, slamming his hands on the table
again, and you flinch once more. 
"Well you can't!" You stand up and push him back, hard. He doesn't fight you
back, just lets you push him. 
 You stalk to your room and slam the door before sinking onto your bed and
resting your head in your hands. 
Your name is Dave Strider, and you just want to sleep forever.
===============================================================================
 
Your name is Bro Strider, and you are currently driving your way to the Egbert
household.
You walk up to the door and notice that the car isn't in the driveway, so Mr.
Egbert must be at work. John opens the door a little later, looking confused as
to why you're here. He nibbles at his bottom lip with his buck teeth and tilts
his head to the side.
"Hi, Bro. What are you doing here?" He asks.
"I need to talk to ya, kid." You walk past him and make yourself comfortable on
the couch. He blinks and closes the door before sitting across from you.
"About..?" He questions, blue eyes questioning.
"Dave. What's wrong with him? Why is he so banged up and bruised and-and-scared
of me? I would never hurt him. But someone is." You narrow your eyes at John,
who realizes what you're implying.
"Me? I would never hurt Dave." He gasps, looking shocked. You move closer to
him and take off your shades, eyes blazing.
"You better not be causing him all this pain." You growl. John looks unfazed.
"I'm not, Bro, but we have to figure out who is. He's...he's not himself at
all. He was afraid of Jade, Rose, and I. His expression was so terrified, like
we were cornering him." He sighs, biting his lip again.
"I know. Keep me updated, if you find out anything." You stand up, ruffle the
kid's hair, and leave just as quickly as you came.
You get back into your car and decide to drive around and see if any else of
Dave's friends know anything.
Your name is Bro Strider, and you're not going to let anyone else hurt your
little bro.
Chapter End Notes
     I don't know how Irish people talk so I did my very best. Karkat will
     show up in later chapters, so if you guys have any tips on improving
     his character, please leave them for me in a comment!
     Kisses :*
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     Dave's birthday goes up in flames.
     TW: #selfharm #blood #cutting
Chapter Notes
     Sorry I haven't been replying to comments and that this chapter is
     late. My computer broke for a few weeks and it took my dad a while to
     fix it.
Your name is Dave Strider, and today is your birthday. 
You wake up and just lay in bed for a long time. You don't think Bro has
anything planned for you. It's been two weeks since he's drunk raped you, and
he's been hitting you almost every night since, including a rather nasty hit to
your cheek yesterday. You know he's still angry at you for getting drunk that
one day. Your face is still a little swollen, so you gently wash it with water
once you gain the strength to climb out of bed.
You check out your reflection in the mirror. You're skinny and pale, and all
your clothes hand loose on you now. You're barely eating properly: maybe an
apple and some apple juice for breakfast, no lunch, and an occasional bag of
Doritos every other day. You just don't feel like eating anymore. It sort of
scares you how easily you can see your ribs through your pale skin, but you try
not to look at your own reflection too much.
You hear Bro working in the kitchen, so you sneak out into the hall and peer
around the corner. Your brother seems to be in the midst of baking something,
but doing so very messily. There's flour all over his clothes, and broken eggs
on the counter. You can see the yolk spill onto the floor. Taking a few steps
back, you are about to abscond when he meets your gaze. You bite your lip and
wait as he takes off his apron-since when do you even own one of those?-and
approaches you with a sheepish expression on his face.
"Happy birthday, Dave. I-I know I haven't been the best guardian these past few
weeks, but I'll try to make it up to you starting now. I was trying to make you
a cake, but it didn't work out so well." Bro smiles hesitantly, as if afraid
you won't smile back, and that's when you feel a surge of anger rise in you.
"A cake? A fucking cake? You think that's going to heal the broken bond between
us? You've been a terrible guardian, and you always will be. You don't give a
shit about me. My life is a fucking nightmare, and you think a cake and some
sweet talk is going to help that? Fuck you, Bro!" Your voice rises steadily and
by the end of your words your eyes are blazing and your chest is heaving. Bro
looks shocked, his amber eyes wide and his jaw dropped.
"Fuck you." You mutter once more before turning and going into your room. You
close and lock your door before sitting on your bed and sighing. You press back
the tears welling in your eyes and glance over at your phone as it begins to
ring. John's goofy picture pops up on the screen, but you simply decline the
call. You aren't in a mood to talk to anyone. Eventually, you hear the front
door open and close, and you realize Bro must have left.
You're feeling thirsty anyways, so you head into the kitchen. As you grab a
bottle of apple juice from the fridge and take a swig, there's a beep and a
female voice starts to speak. With a start, you look around, but then realize
it's just the answering machine automatically playing. You sit on the table
while you listen to the message.
"Hey DIrky! It's me, Roxy. I was just calling to confirm that I can watch Dave
while you pick up the concert tickets and the food from that restaurant he
likes. Also, what time does the party start? Call me back noon! I mean, soon!"
There was another beep, and your heart pounded in your chest.
Concert tickets? Food? Party? Bro had planned that all for you, hadn't he? And
what did you do? You told him to go fuck himself.
You cover your mouth, tears welling in your eyes once more. You're worthless.
You're a piece of shit. Bro must be so upset and angry. He must hate you. But
how couldn't he? You don't deserve any of his love. You don't deserve anyone's
love.
Standing up, you stumble around the kitchen, feeling a wave of dizziness pass
over you. Taking a deep breath, you grab onto the edge of the counter to keep
yourself from falling. Your breath is coming in quick gasps. As you move once
more, your foot scrapes against something sharp, and you feel a pinch of pain,
along with a new feeling you haven't experienced before. Pausing, you pull your
foot back and pick up the knife on the floor. Bro must have dropped it earlier
while trying to make your cake. What he would need a knife for is uncertain,
but maybe it can be of use to you...
You take it to your room and sit on your bathroom floor, wanting to feel that
feeling again. You press the blade into your left wrist, slowly watching it
bite into your skin. You wince at first, but as you watch the blood seep out, a
sort of numbness fills you. You drag the blade over your arm over and over
again in various places, loving the blood that drips down. By the time you
stop, your arm is covered in cuts and the knife is red with blood. 
You suddenly realize Bro could be home any second, and bolt to your feet,
putting the knife in the sink and opening the tap. Once that's clean, you set
it to the side and wash away the blood from your cuts. The warm water stings,
but you ignore the pain. You deserve it anyways. After putting on a long
sleeved hoodie and some shorts, you put the knife back in the kitchen and slink
back into bed. You're suddenly very tired, and today seems like its been going
on forever.
Your name is Dave Strider, and you wish you could sleep forever.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Summary
     Bro is angsty. Poor bab.
     And then really bad shit happens.
     TW: #noncon #rape #abuse
Chapter Notes
     I'm getting back on track with things, which is why this chapter is
     up so soon! I hope you lovely sinners enjoy :*
     Also, this chapter contains descriptions of oral and anal sex. If
     that kind of stuff triggers you, don't read.
Your name is Bro Strider, and you feel like shit.
You had tried your best to make Dave's birthday special for him, because you
knew you had been acting badly in the past week. You had bought concert tickets
for a band he liked, planned a party, and even attempted making a cake, which
is something you rarely do. But apparently it wasn't enough. What could Dave
possibly want?
You are currently driving your way to the nearest bar, to drink away your
sorrows and pain. On the way, you call Roxy and tell her Dave's not feeling
well and he's going to be in his room all night. She agrees to tell the others
that the party is canceled, and not to bother Dave, and after you've confirmed
that no one will be coming over, you hang up the phone. You arrive at the bar
soon enough, memories of Dave's last birthday flashing through your mind.
===============================================================================
 You've woken up early to decorate the house. Dozens of balloons are scattered
on the floor and the couch (all swords are put away to ensure they don't pop),
streamers are hung up (for irony, of course), and there's a stack of pancakes
with frosting and whipped cream on the table, a candle sticking out of the top.
You go to Dave's room to wake him up, and grin a little as he mumbles and turns
over in his sleep.
"Wakey, wakey, birthday boy!" You exclaim, and he sits up, glowering. 
"What the fuck, Bro? It's half past eight and I want to sleep in," he grumbles.
But he climbs to his feet, pulls on a shirt, and follows you out to the kitchen
anyways. 
You watch his face closely as he gazes around the room, red eyes finally
landing on the heap of pancakes. His lips quirk up in a millisecond of a smile,
but it's enough to let you know you have done the right thing. He sits down and
begins to eat. You grab a fork and join him.
"Hey!" He whines and swats at your hand. 
"As good as my pancake making skills are, Davey, you can't eat these all," you
inform him with a grin, taking a big bite of pancake and whipped cream. 
"Whatever, Bro. So what do you have planned for this special occasion?"
 He raises an eyebrow before taking another forkful.
 "I was thinking we could go to a club, maybe dirty dance a little." You pull
down your shades and wink. He hits you with the back of his hand, rolling his
eyes.
"Shut up. I mean it." His eyes are focused on your face, and you smirk.
"Well, I may have talked to your nerdy friend Egbert and gotten you tickets for
that music festival that's in town..."
His eyes widen. "You can't be serious? The tickets are so expensive!" 
"I know. I worked some extra shifts and earned a little bit of extra cash." You
give him a small smile, a genuine one, and he responds back with the same 
expression. 
"Thank you, Bro." 
===============================================================================
 Thinking back on it, his sweet little smile makes your heart flutter now. You
are a creep, having feelings for your younger brother. But you'll deal with
them in due time. Right now you are going to focus on yourself. 
You hop out of your car, show the guy at the door some ID, and make your way
over to a table. Soon enough, a woman in tight shorts and a see through lacy
top is serving you beer after beer.
 The last thing you remember is slapping your shades on the table and asking
for a bigger bottle.
===============================================================================
 Your name is Dave Strider, and you are currently wondering where the ever
loving fuck your older brother could be.
It's still your birthday and no one has come over. No one has sent you any
texts or called you, and you're hesitant to do so yourself. You're sure that
Bro has already told them what went down between you two and they all hate you
now. Taking a deep breath, you run your hands through your hair and rub your
eyes. There are bags forming from the sleepless nights you've had, but you
don't think much of them. 
You glance at the clock and see that it's almost ten pm. Maybe you should eat
something?
You wander over to the fridge and let your dull crimson eyes scan over the
contents. Swords, poptarts, more swords, milk, some smuppets, and a bunch of
chocolate bars. Nothing that you want. You sit on the couch and bury yourself
into the side of it, snuggling into your brother's blanket. Oh, how it provides
you with the warmth and comfort you are seriously lacking. You close your eyes,
a few stray tears making their way down your face, and breath out. 
You must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you know someone is
carrying you. Your eyes fly open and you manage to squirm out of Bro's grasp.
He turns to you with fierce amber eyes, growling softly, and you can tell by
his slight stumble and bloodshot eyes that he's drunk. You bolt for the front
door, but he grabs you and throws you onto the couch. Your breath hitches in
your throat, a fearful look in your eyes as he speaks.
"Now, now. I still have to give you your birthday present." He chuckles darkly,
pulling down his pants, and you sit up, quickly scooting back. he forces you
onto your knees with one hand while pulling down his boxers with the other. His
cock is shoved into your mouth, and your eyes water as you try to pull away.
"If you bite me, I'll fuckin' kill ya." He threatens, and you shake, tears
spilling down your cheeks. 
He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you forward, causing you to choke,
and begins to fuck your face. Sobbing, you try not to close your mouth on him
as he moans softly above you.
"Fuck, yeah...your mouth feels so good, Davey..." Your eyes sting as he uses
his nickname for you. You wished he had slapped you. Deciding to just stay
still, you stop struggling and inhale through your nose. Bro notices and pulls
out, leaving you gasping for breath.
"You little fucker..." He forces your jaw open and thrusts back down your
throat. You feel bile rising in the back of your throat and try to cry out. He
spills his seed deep in your throat, and you cough it all up once he pulls
out. 
"Look at that, you made a mess...Guess I have to punish you." He rips your
pants off of you, spreading your legs as he tears your boxers off of you too.
You kick him, trying to stop him, but he's too strong.
He smirks darkly, pins you hands above your head, and plunges deep inside of
you, dry. You scream out in pain, sobbing and writhing, begging him to stop.
"B-Bro! Stop it! Y-youre...You're hurting me!" You cry and cry and cry until
your vision is blurry with tears. Bro bites your nipples harshly and leave
marks all over your chest, not being gentle in the least.
"Happy...nngh~...Happy birthday, Dave..." He grunts out as he thrusts into you
fast and hard. You're bleeding and shaking and crying for him to stop, little
whimpers escaping your throat. 
He moves his other hand to your hip, gripping it so tightly you're sure bruises
will form. Finally, he cums inside of you with a final moan and pulls out,
panting slightly. He grins down at you, as if admiring his work.
Without another word, he stumbles to his room and closes the door. You watch
him go, your eyes threatening to close, but you know you have to clean up the
mess before he sees. 
Your name is Dave Strider, and you wish you were never born.
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