#anyways I’m gonna leave this here cuz the longer I stare at it the worse it looks to me

[bicheetopuff]

Happy birthday to this nerd i guess

[spinster-sisters]

Asshole. CS

TW: Dom! san, Sub! reader, Pillow humping, stepping, generally very derogatory and lowkey rude, possessiveness. Im gonna put this here cuz i dont know where else to but this is not an example of a healthy relationship, no it is toxic or abusive, it is implied that they are just two very different people who shouldnt be together.

Your relationship with San wasn't a good one. From the moment you two got together you have been arguing about every little thing, and while the good moments were absolutely perfect the bad was far worse. Many of your friends were surprised you were still together. But despite all the fighting and miscommunications, San was still the only man you could look at, and that was infuriating.

Honestly, the two of you had tried to break up multiple times, but each period wouldn't last more than a week, because nobody else knew you like the other. So inevitably you would find your way back to each other.

Tonight was one of the bad nights. Your mutual friend Yunho was throwing a huge party at his apartment. The trouble had started before you even arrived. The plan was to get ready at San's place at ride over together, but at the last moment, you had decided to get ready at your own home, simply because San always rushed you. You figured that this way he could leave whenever he was ready and so could you. However, San did not see it that way.

You had just stood up from your vanity, having just finished applying your makeup, but a text alert brought you back down to sit.

"Your impossible" was all it said. This made you scoff. It was from your boyfriend. San had always told you that you were too indecisive and flaky, that he never knew what you wanted and it made it impossible to please you. It was probably true, but he was not without faults himself so you still found it annoying.

You chose to leave him on read before making your way over to the party. You were still simmering with annoyance over his attitude while you drove. Eventually, you landed at Yunho's building. You don't know exactly how your friend was able to afford the place as it was pretty big for only him and his roommate, but it certainly allowed for fun gatherings.

You were buzzed up and not too long after you were at Yuhno's door. Only seconds after knocking, you could hear the music and talk from outside, the door swung open to reveal the tall man.

"Hey!" Yunho cried, pulling you in by your arm. Yunho rarely drank more than one or two beers at his party so he could keep everyone in line, so it wasn't a surprise when you found him still completely sober.

"I almost thought you weren't going to make it!" The tall man spoke swinging and arm over your shoulder for a side hug. You smiled into it.

"Yeah sorry, I was running a bit behind," was all you said.

"When San showed up without you I thought you had canceled," your friend spoke while pulling away from the hug.

"Yeah, well plans change" you replied. You had thought you hid the contempt well enough but Yunho knew you too well. He gave you a questioning look but you changed the subject.

"Where is he anyway? You asked. Yunho only pointed into the living room. Your mood only darkened. There were tons of people but you could still see your boyfriend clear as day sitting on the couch with at least three girls hanging off of him. This was one of your problems with San. No, he had never cheated on you, if they tried to kiss him he would push them away, if they made a suggestive comment he would brush them off, but of they flirted with him? He ate that shit up. He said that it shouldn't matter because at the end of the day your the one who gets to fuck him, but the fact he would just sit there and let them feed his ego was pissy as all hell.

You frowned deeply, not even trying to hide this one, and turned the opposite direction into the kitchen for a drink. You could feel the judgment coming of Yunho in waves, but he said nothing. When you reached the kitchen you found the first bottle of whatever and poured yourself a tall glass of whatever. You weren't about to let your boyfriend ruin your night, even after he ruined your mood. So you opted to ignore him all night.

It had been a while. After you finished your drink and allowed it to take effect you moved back into the pandemonium that was the living room. Here was the source of the music and the majority of the talking. You danced lazily to the music, not paying any attention to anyone just allowing yourself to unwind. The pounding base felt nice in your head and along with the buzz of the alcohol you were more than content.

Soon an arm slipped around your shoulders again. This time it was Mingi. Yunho's roommate. You weren't as close to him as Yunho but you could easily call him a friend.

"What's up?" You called over the music, stepping out of the dancing bodies to talk.

"Just coming to say hi, where's san?" He asked taking a little look around.

"Don't know don't care" you replied leaning against the wall. Mingi laughed a little.

"You two at it again?" He questioned with a quirk of the brow. You returned the laugh.

"Call it whatever you want, I don't want to talk to him tonight," Mingi sighed with a smile.

"You two are impossible," Mingi walked away after finishing his comment but his choice of words soured your mood again. You dared to look around for San. Once you found him it made it worse.

It seems like two of the girls had lost hope because the last one remaining was laying it on thick. She was sitting so close their legs were pressed together and her hand was dragging up and down his arm.

You scoffed and turned away before a thought hit you. If he was able to entertain other people then why can't you? With that idea in mind, you set out to find a cute boy to mess with.

It wasn't hard, within minutes of putting yourself out there a guy who clearly wasn't close enough with anyone here to know your situation had approached you in the hallway on your way to fill up your drink.

You both stood in the hallway against the wall for a bit, he was hopelessly eager so flirting with him was a breeze. Slowly you made your way into the living room once again and made yourself comfy with the new boy. No, you weren't as obvious as the girl hanging off your boyfriend, you were too good for that, but it was clearly enough to have him hanging on your every word. At some point, you glanced up and made eye contact with Yunho who only threw you a curious look but you only winked at went back to your nameless boy.

You spoke for a bit longer, playing into him as much as possible as he showered you with compliments. You were happily basking in the praise when a sudden presence made itself know in front of you. You turned, and low and behold, it was San.

His perfect features were screwed into a glare fixated on both you and the boy. You almost let your giggle show when you look behind his perfectly shaped body to see the girl he had been entertaining looking lost and confused exactly where he left her on the couch.

Your satisfied smirk must have shown on your face however because soon your boyfriend's cold fingers wrapped around your chin hold your chin up to face him. He crouched down so you two were eye level.

"You think this is funny?" He asked in a dangerous tone. He only used this voice when he meant business but tonight you were standing your ground.

"Very funny," you replied, managing to hold your smirk even with his hand clamped on your cheeks.

"What the fuck man? Let her go," the boy finial voiced only after recovering from the shock of the scene before him. He reached out to pull Sans hand away before you stopped him.

"You can leave now," you said, not looking away from San. (not like you could) but still very clearly talking to the boy. You could hear the confusion in the silence. Before he spoke again.

"Wait what?" He asked stupidly.

"You can go, I'm done with you for now," you spoke.

"Wait this is crazy what are you-"

This time San in all his severe and intimidating glory turned to the boy and cut him off.

"Hey dick head, I think my girlfriend told you to leave us alone." He spoke with an edge. Having finally got the message the boy got up and left. And San's piercing gaze returned to you again, his hand finally dropping to let his forearm resting on his knee.

"So I'm your girlfriend now?" You asked with contempt. Crossing your arms, and swinging one leg over the other.

"Oh shut up" San replied scoffing.

"I'm just wondering if you told those girls that, that you have a girlfriend. Or maybe it's that you did but they just didn't care because clearly, you enjoyed all the attention they were giving you" the words rattled out of you in quick succession.

"Clearly you're broken up about it. Throwing yourself at any guy who will give you the time of day," he spits back, "if I remember correctly you were the one who didn't want to come together as a couple," he reminded in a scathing tone.

"Only because you are a controlling asshole," you spat back equally as resentful.

"And you're a paranoid drama queen I guess we all have our problems." He shot back. Eyes narrowing even more.

"Well maybe if you have such a problem with it I should go find that guy and fuck him. If I am so annoying then how about I go be someone else's problem!" you almost screamed at him beath heaving slightly when you finished. San stared at you unreadable for a moment.

He stood abruptly, taking you roughly by the arm and pulling you to your feet. He wordlessly dragged you through the crowd.

"San what the fuck let go!" You tried to pull free but failed. Moments later san had dragged you into Yunho's room and slammed it shut before locking it. Your boyfriend turned to you with eyes darker than you had ever seen.

"Never fucking say that again." He spoke dangerously calm. He took two quick steps twords you before slamming his lips onto yours. You reacted quickly, returning the kiss with as much anger as you could. Yeah, you wanted him to fuck you, but you weren't about to let him forget how pissed off you were.

In moments your dress had been pulled over your head and you were pushed onto the bed and Sans body trapped you there. He reconnected your lips. Your kiss was anything but sweet, your teeth were clacking and your lips were swollen. San pulled back once or twice to bite at your bottom lip and pull before it snapped back into place. His hand wound its way into the roots of your hair and yanked.

With your head now pulled away and a dull ache radiated out from your head you groaned and rolled your hips into his feeling him harden through your underwear.

"Your such a needy slut." he spoke with venom while nipping and sucking at your neck, determined to leave as many visible marks as possible.

"Like you aren't?" You scoffed running your nails down his forearms, leaving your own mark on him.

"Shut the fuck up. Do I need to remind you whos in charge here?" He punctuated this with a particularly hard bite on your shoulder. You winced.

"No, I can tell there's no need. I just need to remind you whos slut you are don't I?" He asked in a patronizing tone. "Because your all mine baby, and I am not going to let you forget it."

In a moment he flipped your bodies over and pushed you off him to stand on your own feet in front of where he sat on the bed. You stumbled a little in the process and had to brace yourself on his shoulders. He looked at you unimpressed.

Your arms crossed and your brow furrowed.

"Strip" he commanded easily. You were only in your bra and panties but clearly this was too much for his fully clothed self. You glared.

"You first," you said indignantly. After a beat and a long stare San's hand shot out and clenched your ass hard. You couldn't help the yelp that escaped you.

"Unless you want me to spank you so hard your ass turns purple you should start undressing." He let go of you.

You knew he would keep to that promise so you slowly began to unhook your bra.

"Don't keep me waiting" he spoke in a warning.

You pulled the garment off your shoulders and slid your panties down.

"Finally you learned how to behave" he spoke with indignation. You humpfted unhappily.

"Does my slut, want me to touch her?"

"I think that much is clear," you mumbled.

"Speak up," he demanded.

"Yes!" You groaned. He glared at you for a moment.

"I don't think you deserve it," he replied. Instead, he reached behind himself and grabbed one of Yunho's pillows, and tossed it at your feet.

"You want to get off? Use that." Your stomach filled with dread.

"There is no way I'm doing that," you said, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

"Then I guess your not cumming tonight" he spoke flatly, staring you down. You stared at him in disbelief.

"Go on," he insisted. You felt your resolve slip as the ache in your core grew. Slowly but surely you knelt down and straddled the pillow. In the moments you sat down you were already dreading this. It was far too soft and smooth to gain any kind of fiction without some serious work. You already felt humiliated without having done anything yet.

"Look at me," San directed from the bed. Your pink face turned to look at him. He looked damn good as always, practically glowing in the bedroom haze. You couldn't help but clench the plush between your thighs. One more expectant look from San made you move.

After the first drag of your pussy against the pillow you almost cried at the lack of sensation. It was unfair how little feeling you got from it. But in San's eyes, you could see that that was exactly what he was looking for, the desperation.

You began moving your hips again. You were rutting your pussy against the pillow as fast as you could chasing the tiny bit of relief that came each time. You were already panting from all the work, grunting each time your clit dragged against the too soft fabric.

Slowly the pleasure was starting to build and you could feel the wetness pouring out of you dampening the cushion bellow you. Now that it was wet the material was a bit rougher so you got a little more of the friction you desired. Your eyes meet your boyfriend's dark gaze.

"Not so big now are you? Humping a pillow just because I told you to. Acting like my good little slut. Whose slut are you?" The filth spewed out of Sans mouth leaving you breathless, you were hesitant to admit defeat so you stayed silent. After a beat, Sans boot lifted from where it was planted on the carpet and dug into your thigh dangerously close to your sopping pussy. You whined as he stilled your movements. He pushed you down by your thigh keeping you immobilized on the pillow.

"I said, who's slut are you?" He asked in the sickest sweetest voice, leaning down slightly forcing the eye contact you wanted to break. When his boot dug even harder into you, stinging in the process you finally felt your resolve crumble.

"I'm your slut," you said barely above a whisper.

"Didn't quite catch that babe," he encouraged.

"I'm your slut," the words came out much more forceful this time to the point you almost shouted it. As soon as they were out of your mouth you burned in shame, looking away from the growing smirk on his face.

"All mine," the words slipped out almost absentmindedly. He reached out at cupped your burning cheeks and titled your head up.

"Come here baby,"

You obeyed him eagerly. Your hips ached a bit from the exertion but you stood perfectly still and waiting in front of him. San eyed your body up and down, reaching out to feel up every inch of you. He took special care to play with your thighs, messaging them in his strong hands for a moment. You keened happily in his touch, letting him play with you however he wanted. It helped some to ease the burn but that wasn't his goal. His hand slipped between your legs and slid between your folds.

You realized a shaky moan in response, almost jumping away as you were still so sensitive. But you stayed put.

"My little slut is being so good, letting me toy with her pussy like this." He cooed at you, fueling your blushing face. His finger ran up and down your most sensitive area sometimes stopping to pinch your clit or cup your heat entirely, but never slip inside. That he was avoiding. You felt so empty knowing he was right there, so close to filling you up but still not doing it.

You whined wantonly.

"What's wrong sweetheart," he smirks at you.

"San, please fill me up?" You begged.

"My baby wants to get fucked like a slut?" He asks, one finger prodding your hole but still not entering. You cried out in desperation.

"Yes! Yes please!"

"OK baby," he finally replied in a soothing tone, but the retracting hand made you quiver, you were so needy but you had yet to be given any kind of release and it was killing you.

"Hands and knees, baby"

You scrabbled onto the bed to do as you were told, presenting your ass to him as well as you could with a slight arch to your back. You could hear his low chuckle behind you. You felt him stand up momentarily and heard the familiar sound of a belt buckle to show he was finally undressing. You wanted to look at him so bad but you didn't want to take even the slightest risk right now.

Finally, he climbed onto the bed behind you, cupping your ass tenderly in both hands with a small squeeze.

"So pretty, and it's all mine" you heard him speak. You mumbled in agreement with a nod. You breathed heavily in anticipation, waiting to finally feel something.

In one unexpected movement, San sheathed his cock into you. Your cries were so loud you were sure they could be heard over the pending music in the next room, but you didn't care. It felt so nice to be full.

San was never one for preamble so it only took a moment for him to start to pound his cock into you at an inhuman pace. The sound of the music was now being completely drowned out by the cries from you, the grunts from San, the slapping skin, and the obscene wet sound coming from your pussy.

San knew his way around your body so well, it only took a moment for him to find that special spot inside you that had you spiraling, your front half collapsed onto the bed, muffling the sounds coming out of you. It only lasted a second though before a rough grip took hold on the back of your head. San yanked you up by your hair keeping your mouth free to spew filth.

The pain in your scalp returned as your boyfriend leaned down to whisper in your ear through his own panting breath, still nailing into your hole.

"Don't you dare, keep your head up and let them hear just how much of a slut you are for me." He spoke deadly serious. Your reply was a loud cry of his name that echoed around the room.

His focus returned to fucking you to tears, which is about where you were as you felt the first pricks of wetness in the corners of your eyes.

San was speaking again,

"Whos are you baby? Tell me who is it that's fucking you this good?" He practically shouted the words at you, his cock was sliding deliciously in and out so quickly that before you could even register his pull out he was slamming back in dragging your walls as he went pulling even more wetness out with each thrust. Your eyes were rolling back but you answered somewhat absently.

"Yours San, all yours" after the words left your mouth the first time you couldn't seem to stop, constantly spewing the word "yours" over and over again. San began repeating his reply as well with a little more force,

"All mine."

San removed his hand from your hair but you kept your head up however difficult it was when he was fucking you like that. Instead, both of your boyfriend's hands took hold of your waist, and with this newfound grip, he was pulling you back to meet his thrusts. Each push now had even more force behind it and you could feel your release fast approaching.

"San-" you tried to speak but lost the words in your mouth.

"I know baby, my little cockslut is going to cum all over me isn't she?" You cried out your affirmation when your words failed you.

"Go ahead sweetheart, cum while a fill your pussy up even more."

You finally came and came hard. It was by the will of God you kept yourself upright as your orgasm washed over you, especially with San still keeping pace although it began faltering as his orgasm crashed around him. You felt the sticky cum shoot into you in ropes coating your inner walls, making your orgasm even more fulfilling.

After a moment San stops moving. You could feel him begin to soften inside you but you were still clenching hopelessly against him. Your arms finally gave way and you came crashing down. San kneeled above you catching his breath before falling onto the bed beside you. He dared to pull you close to observe your face.

A sudden smirk arose on his perfect features.

"I won,"

"You asswipe."

[dadsbongos]

late night for a sinner

Movie/Game/Show: The Devil All The Time Dynamic: Arvin Russell/Reader Warnings: religious overtones cuz it’s this movie, described and enacted violence (against teagardin), preston teagardin (and all his sexual assault-y/manipulative bs) Notes: uhm people got married at like 20 in the 50s and i assume arvin is about 20 so no i will not apologize for making you his wife, my country-accent writing is bad(?) idk Summary: Arvin’s a protective man, especially when it comes to those he loves. ~~~

“Somethin’ ‘bout that preacher don’t feel right,” (Y/n) murmured to her husband as they stood outside the doors of the church, “Gives me a shiver right up my spine.”

Arvin nodded along to her words, watching as his grandmother and sister shook hands with Preston Teagardin - fancy name for a guy like him. A guy who gave women chills. He reached into his dress pants pocket and plucked out a cigarette before placing it between his lips, “Watch yourself around him, darlin’.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for Lenora, too,” (Y/n) crossed over the creaky boards of the church's stoop as people began exiting, her hands coming out for the man’s tie, “Did you loosen this durin' the sermon?”

“Too tight,” he let the woman adjust his tie, “You know how I feel ‘bout comin’ to these things.”

“I know, I know - hey, I don’t like comin’ either, but it means a lot to Ms. Emma and Lenora,” pulling back from the tie, (Y/n) placed her hands on Arvin’s shoulders, “‘Sides, someone’s gotta watch for that blasted preacher, and I think we’re the only ones who will.”

Removing the cigarette from between his lips, Arvin leaned over to kiss his wife’s forehead, pulling away to ask, “You take my light outta my pocket when you pressed my pants this morning?”

“Maybe I did,” she shrugged, grinning, “Maybe even I think you shouldn’t be smokin’ outside a church.”

“Maybe,” Arvin nodded, “Maybe.”

Emma and Lenora finally came out of the church and started towards the family’s truck, the two women got into the back with Arvin and (Y/n) getting into the front to finally head home. Lenora leaned forward as her brother started the truck, “You shoulda been in there for the goodbyes.”

“Oh?” turning her head and leaving her cheek pressed to the headrest, (Y/n) quirked a brow at the teenager, “What happened?”

“Reverend Teagardin said he’s interested in meeting you,” Lenora beamed at her sister-in-law.

“Just her?” Arvin pulled out of the church parking lot, “Seatbelt, Lenora.”

“I got it, I got it,” the girl waved off before returning to her previous conversation, “But yeah, just (Y/n). He was talkin’ about putting together a church choir. Thinks (Y/n) would have a pretty voice.”

“She’s got a pretty voice but she ain’t singin’ for no church choir,” Arvin’s brows furrowed, white-knuckling the steering wheel at the mere idea of that damned preacher trying to get close to his wife, “Not in that man’s church choir.”

“Let the girl speak for herself,” Emma cut in, “Thought I raised you better than that.”

Pursing his lips, Arvin turned to (Y/n) for a split second before returning his stare to the road, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she looked back to her sister-in-law, “You singin’ in the choir, Lenora?”

“I’d love to try.”

Clenching her jaw, (Y/n) thought over her choices. Leave Lenora to sing in that choir - leave her sweet, naive little sister-in-law in that preacher’s hands for far longer than was typical or wanted… Or, suck it up and sing for the bastard.

“I’ll sing with ya, sweetheart.”

Arvin sighed quietly, glad none of the women in the car heard him over the rumbling of the truck’s old engine. To distract himself, and by proxy the women in the car, he suddenly changed the topic, “This damn old truck. Gonna hafta fix it up or take it in.”

“You’re gonna take it in?” (Y/n) tilted her head.

“Thing’s old; I’ll do as much as I can, darlin', but sometimes there’s only so much I can do. You know that.”

“I’ll need to go with you,” the truck jumbled with the rocky bumps of their home’s pull-in, “Pick up a few things for dinner.”

Lenora felt her heart warm and lips quirk into a smile at her brother and sister-in-law. They weren’t so into the church as her and Grandma, in fact - Lenora’s certain they only played along to please her and Grandma, but watching them was nice. Nothing to play along to, just a simple, pure expression of adoration between the couple. Arvin was never a man known for something as soft and tender as love but (Y/n), since the two were in grade school, was easily able to pull it out of him.

From high school sweethearts into married lovers. It was overjoying to know someone else was looking after Arvin.

“I’ll check up on Mr. Earskell and be right out.”

“No, no, (Y/n),” Emma shook her head, taking the woman’s hand as she was assisted out of the truck, “I’ll handle things. You and Arvin go on and stay out here.”

She didn’t bother fighting against the older woman, she was the matriarch of the family - she was just the rule maker. It was only fair.

“You don’t hafta keep callin’ em Miss and Mister,” Arvin came out and around to the hood of the truck, “They’re part a’ your family now.”

“Feels improper,” (Y/n) rebuffed, standing beside her husband, “I’m just thankful they’re lettin’ me stay here.”

“And why wouldn’t they?” he knew why she felt that way - her own family was insufferable and he could barely stand being around them for a dinner - he couldn’t imagine having to live with them.

“Let’s not open that can of worms today, huh, love?” (Y/n) placed her hands on her hips as she watched her husband look over the truck’s interior and drag over his tools and oil.

“Don’t joke ‘bout that, love,” despite his words, Arvin was smiling slightly, “Poor fishermen work hard to get those worm cans.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” she sarcastically relented, peeking over the man’s shoulder, “Wish I knew anything to help you.”

“I could teach you a thing or two.”

“Maybe not now, baby.”

Which, of course, was code for ‘I’d rather not. Ever.’ but politely.

There was silence between the married couple as Arvin worked until he sighed and planted his hands on each side of the open hood, head hanging low as he murmured, “You’re really goin’ to that choir?”

“We both know I gotta be there for Lenora.”

“I appreciate that, but I’ll still be worried to hell ‘bout you,” he turned to face his wife, restraining himself cupping her cheeks and smearing grime over her, “Both a' you,” then he finally admitted as to why he was so apprehensive, “I’ve been watchin’ him.”

“You what…?!” she whisper-screamed, coming in closer to her husband, “Arvin Eugene Russell, you been what?”

“Watchin’ him,” Arvin almost regrets the admission at the sight of his wife’s shock, “He’s a no-good-sonofabitch, (Y/n). Messin’ around with a young girl behind his wife’s back. She’s good to him, (Y/n), she cooks him dinner and she does her best to keep him happy. He’s no good to her. He’s no good, at all.”

(Y/n)’s brows furrow, “Cheatin’ on his wife?”

“A girl from Lenora’s class. He’s worse than a cheater,” he turned back to the hood of the truck and quickly said, “We’re takin’ it in.”

“Why haven’t you said anything yet?”

“Nobody will ever believe me, (Y/n), you know that. Everybody here loves that damn radio bullshitter.”

Nodding quietly, (Y/n) fisted a hand in her skirt before turning towards the home’s door, “I’ll tell Lenora we’re goin’.”

The topic is ultimately dropped as they leave into town. As they take the truck in for the shop and as they pick out items for dinner that night and even on the walk home. Reverend Preston Teagardin didn’t come up again, neither did his affairs or his disgustingly, sickeningly low age preference for said affairs.

They weren’t the only people in town on watch of their new preacher in town, they were just another young couple walking home.

Even as dinner passed and time for rest came - as they pressed into bed and huddled together in the cold night. Teagardin was temporarily forgotten, pushed to the backs of their minds as they slipped into slumber.

And when Arvin darts up from bed after another nightmare over finding his father’s body that fateful night, (Y/n)’s thoughts are solely on her husband. Bringing him back into the present, where he’s not in the woods finding his father knelt down in front of their makeshift church but instead in bed with his loving wife. With his sister down the hall. His grandmother at the end of the corridor and his great-uncle's own room across from theirs. He’s in a home that isn’t going anywhere - he’s with people who won’t leave him, not any time soon anyway.

It’s not until the next day, after Lenora’s first day back at school for the week had finished and her daily visit to Hellen Hatton-Laferty was over, that Teagardin even peeked back into the couple’s brains.

“If that sonofabitch touches you or Lenora, tell me,” Arvin whispered to his wife, hands holding hers tightly before she went into the church for choir practice, “I’ll make sure ain't got no hands to touch you, or Lenora, or any other unlucky woman.”

“I’ll come right to you, honey,” (Y/n) was quick to confirm for her husband, “Promise.”

“Good,” he cups his wife’s cheeks and pulls her into a tender forehead kiss before going to his sister and giving her a tight hug, “Be the loudest one there, got it?”

Lenora chuckled quietly, patting her brother’s shoulder, “You know I can’t do that.”

“You can.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) goes up the stairs and pulls one of the double doors open, ��You just shouldn’t, ain’t that right, Arvin?”

A teasing shrug and he’s walking off towards the car while Lenora follows her sister-in-law up and into the church.

Teagardin is sitting in one of the pews with his back turned towards the two women.

There’s nobody else in the church despite having been told this was the meeting time. It’s silent. Preston still hasn’t turned to the two.

Lenora is fidgeting beside (Y/n) the longer the man stays quiet. The younger girl nervously bunching the skirt of her dress in her fists. Her brows drawn tight in confusion and lips pressed into a thin line.

(Y/n) steps forward, ignoring the nerves urging her to run and encouraging her knees to buckle underneath the weight of her body, “We’re here, preacher.”

His head lifted, a smile coming over his lips, an unnatural smile - one she’d imagined on the devil when he tricked another soul into his claws. Preston comes to a full stand and approaches the women, “I didn’t expect both of you to come.”

“I wanted to support Lenora.”

“How wonderful.”

~~

“Preacher’s dirty.”

“What?”

(Y/n) sighed, sitting up in bed and looking down at her husband and whispering into the night air, “Teagardin. He’s just as dirty as you said.”

Immediately, Arvin was also sat up, no longer tired and now entirely focused on his wife, “What happened?”

“Tried touchin’ Lenora ‘til I stopped him. Grabbed me. I got us out of there and now Lenora’s tryin' to figure out how to tell Ms. Emma.”

Arvin stood out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants over his boxers, slipping on a shirt and his hat before heading to the bedroom door and slipping out of the room. (Y/n) followed after, eyes wide and brain springing into panic as she watched him tug on his shoes. Hurriedly, the woman put her shoes on as well while Arvin snuck out of the home, her continuing to follow after him.

Once they were in the car, (Y/n) turned to Arvin as he pulled out of the driveway, “What the hell are you doin’? It’s late, you can settle this tomorrow, can't ya?”

“No. It don’t matter if he’s with his wife or at the church, I’m puttin’ that bastard in his place. I hope that woman leaves his ass,” he shook his head, “Rotten fuckin’ bastard.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

The man was silent as he drove towards where he knew the Teagardin residence was. Every few minutes he would take off his cap and run a hand through his matted hair - if he could force himself to do so, he could almost pretend this was a nice drive with his wife. A simple late-night cruise through town with the love of his life, but then he would remember exactly why they were on a late-night cruise. A peek at (Y/n) would remind him, she must be frightened to all hell - it must’ve been awful to be in that church. Be near that rotten man.

And Arvin’s rage was freshly re-lit.

“Is this the right time?” she remembered each time her husband had repeated the phrase from his father, it was usually enough to sway him from acting out at that moment.

“Best time there is. He’s asleep - won’t be expectin’ us.”

(Y/n) settled into her passenger side seat, turning her head to stare out the window, “How’re you gonna get him out?”

Arvin was silent once again, fingers tight against the steering wheel as they pulled up to the bend at the end of the preacher’s street. He got out of the car and stormed towards the Teagardin home with (Y/n) trailing after.

It wasn’t long until Preston came stumbling out of his home with Arvin banging on the front door. Cynthia was out soon after her husband, clinging to the door frame.

“Late night for a sinner, kids,” Preston rubbed at his eyes, “Can this wait ‘til the mornin’?”

“You try touchin’ Lenora?” Arvin was blunt, he didn’t like sugar coating and he didn’t like the people who did it. Turning, he gestured to (Y/n), “Tried touchin’ my (Y/n)?”

Immediately, Preston’s eyes widened, “Now, now, I- I didn’t do nothin’ to those two.”

“Callin’ my wife a liar?”

Cynthia looked between her husband and the younger couple on her lawn, “What’s this about, Preston?”

“You just go inside now, Cynthia!” the preacher called back to his wife, “These two are full of delusions!”

“Arvin, let’s just head home now - you can take care of this tomorrow…”

Shaking his head, Arvin only approached the older man further, “My wife ain’t no liar. And those hands ain’t free of sin.”

“Go inside, Cynthia!” Preston shouted at his wife once again before turning back to the other man, “You won’t say nothing. I will have your lives ruined. Who will the town trust? Me, or two scruffy children who married straight outta high school?” he gives a forced chuckle, shaking his head and pointing at (Y/n) with a shaky hand, “Your wife… she- she… your wife is delusional. She’s crazy.”

Arvin Russell had been fighting nearly his entire life - he learned from his father and he continued on far after his father passed. Preston Teagardin had never been an athletic boy nor had he been confrontational by any means, preferring to hide in the shadows and smile his way out of trouble.

It wasn’t a mystery as to how Arvin managed to land Preston on the hard ground, chest pressing into the dirt and hands tightly wound behind his back in Arvin’s hold.

He didn’t know what he was looking for in the man. He didn’t know what he wanted from the preacher. He couldn’t kill the bastard - he still had a sister and wife to look after when his grandmother and uncle could no longer. Was it admission? Was it a promise to not even look at the women of Knockemstiff? It wasn’t an apology, he knew that - because there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be giving out forgiveness.

“You take back what you said,” Arvin grunted out, pushing his body harshly into Preston’s back and hoping it’d hurt as much as when boys did it to him on the playground, “You take back what you said about my wife, you hear me?”

“She’s crazy!”

Arvin took a hand into the preacher's hair and smushed his face deep into the dirt, “If I- “ when Teagardin’s whining got too loud, Arvin let his head up before roughly smashing it back into the ground, “Fuckin’ listen when I talk. You listenin’?” he waited for a nod of confirmation before continuing, “If I even hear your name in the same sentence as my wife’s or my sister’s, I’ll bash your fuckin’ brains in, hear me?”

“Arvin!” (Y/n) finally screamed out to her husband, hands landing on one of his arms and pulling, “Arvin, you let him go!”

“He deserves this, (Y/n)!”

“I know, but dammit Arvin, you’re gonna get the sheriff on you, let’s go home!”

Giving one last thunk of Preston’s skull into the ground, Arvin stood and kicked the man’s ribs before nodding at Cynthia with a brief ‘goodnight ma’am’ and returning to the car.

“That was a dumb thing you just did, Arvin Russell,” (Y/n) scolded, rather lightly, as her husband drove.

“I don’t regret a damn thing about it, (Y/n) Russell.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” she reached over and snatched his cap before fixing it over her own head, “I’m proud my husband cares so much.”

“Least I could do for the woman of my dreams.”

[yandere-2phetalia]

yandere 1p russia headcanons (2021)

1p russia / ivan braginsky

- ah where do i start

- lmao bitch really had to google hetalia wiki cuz i haven't written for them in so long

- ANYWAYS

- i know that in the past i've probably written that he's a misunderstood sweetheart

- but honestly, he's really not

- i mean the countries are personifications of .. well.. the countries

- and russia has very cruel history, even now, they don't fuck around

- and other countries know it, its also shown in the show

- so, here's my take on it

- russia is really nice if you two meet and he likes you

- he is able to control his emotions very well

- so you wont even know that he in fact can be your absolute worse nightmare

- and i'm saying this.. like.. IM IMPLYING that he in fact is one of the most cruel people you can run into

- but as i've said, if he likes you (if you're genuine, honest, nice and over all a good person, that's all it takes, really) he's nice

- something tells me he is still only nice if he knows you're weaker, which, almost everyone is to him

- now don't get me wrong, as nice as he may be and how well he can control himself, if you pay extra attention, you'll notice that stare

- i feel like all of you know what stare i'm talking about: the cold, intense, calculating

- lets say you, ivan and someone else are in a conversation, you and the other person are laughing and he's laughing too, but he is staring at you with this just straight up cold gaze

- its almost daring, really

- he wants you to know that he chose to have you around

- no matter how friendly you and ivan are, he makes sure that deep down you know, you sealed your fate, like, you're not leaving him unless he wants you to

- he wont kidnap you or anything, realistically, its not even that beneficial in the long run, since he is a country and you're a human and you're gonna die at the end of it all

- even though there's so much stuff we don't know is happening behind the curtains that he might as well have something ready, to make you live way longer than would be normal

- now, i will headcanon these things as platonic

- because, i don't think he is able to love

- like, if that man is not a sociopath, i don't know who is

- doesn't mean he wont treat you as a lover, just means that he wont ever feel love or anything, really

- he will make sure to be by your side a lot but not overbearingly, until you two are closer, so its not weird to you

- if you ever need his help with anything, he will help you and wont ask for anything back, however, he is keeping tabs, so when the need arises, he will hold it all against you

- russia is a manipulator and due to him being a sociopath, he wont feel bad about it at all, more than anything, hell grow amused, if you start crying and begging because of how many mind games you realize you're tangled in

- and the worst thing?

- there is absolutely nothing and/or no one who can help you escape this new and very harsh reality

[catzula]

A deal with the devil.

Warnings: Swearing, its 4,5k words (I'm sorry someone teach me how to write something smaller than at least 2k)

Pairing: Bakugou x fem!reader

Genre: pure fluff

A/N: I have one more Bakugou fic after this cuz if it’s not apparent enough I’m a baku simp, but after that I have one shinsou and todoroki ask so bear with me and my simping a lil longer pls, what else, uhhh, enjoy!

Synopsis: you want to learn to ride a motorcycle and Bakugou is the only one that can teach you. And if you thought convincing him to teach you was hard, you'll see it's worse when he's actually teaching you.

"I want to learn how to ride a motorcycle." These were the words that caused everyone in the room to stop whatever they were doing and stare at you.

"What?" You asked, feeling uneasy under the stern gazes of your friends. "Why is everyone staring at me?"

"We're just waiting for you to tell us it was a joke," Mina answered your question, chuckling awkwardly as the girls shook their heads in unison. You gasped dramatically, shocked at how little they trusted you. "I'm not joking, I'm serious!"

This led to another awkward silence, and it was Mina, once again, who broke the silence. You were hoping for at least a few encouraging sentences -something along the lines of you go girl!- but rolled your eyes at her when she said, "Sweetie, are you sure?"

"Oh my God!" You groaned. "Of course I'm sure. Why isn't anyone supporting me?" You looked at your friends expectedly, but their expression didn't change.

"Oh, it's not that we're not supporting you- we're just worried and don't think... You should be doing it." Momo said with a cute smile, probably hoping you to smile back and drop the subject, but you pouted. "Momo, that's exactly what not supporting means."

"Y/N, you know we love you and will support you at everything,” Ochako stated, but before you could even smile she added, “but, we're concerned. You know you're kind of... a little too clumsy.” Girls nodded as she carried on. “Actually, you're the clumsiest person I know!" She had one of her pretty, cute smiles on her face as she said the last sentence, and you almost wanted to laugh at how her upbeat attitude while calling you clumsy made an interesting contrast.

You scoffed. "Oh, come on. I'm not that clumsy."

"Oh, but you are." Mina stated, "you're not only clumsy, but you're also really... How do I say this-" she snapped her fingers as she remembered the word she was looking for, "unfocused, and you literally have no idea whats your left or right is." She muttered the last sentence and the girls giggled.

"What?!" Your face scrunched with confusion and at the insult you didn't even understand. "What does that even mean?" Yeah, what did that mean? Yeah, you did daydream quite a lot, and zoned out almost constantly, a little too much to tell the truth too, and though you did know your lef and right, you kinda did just mix them once in a while-

"Ooh." You said, understanding why they were so worried, and what they meant. You had to give them credit, you riding a motorcycle wasn't safe...  But still. You wanted to learn, and nothing could make you go back from your decision.

"Yeah, I see your point, but still. I want to do this, and I'll ask Kiri to teach me. I know he rides a motorcycle, and he's pretty good at it too! I'm pretty sure he can deal with my- whatever it is I have."

Your friends shot you a worried look, but they were familiar with your stubborn personality and knew you would do whatever it takes to learn it.

You stood up to find Kirishima as you rehearsed your speech in your mind. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even realize the door was closed, and you walked right into it. "Oh, fuck." You mumbled under your breath, trying to ignore your friend's giggles.

As you walked out of the room, you kind of understood what unfocused meant.

~~~

"Kirishima, please!" You whined, you felt a weird urge to stump your feet on the floor like a little kid but kept yourself from doing so.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but I haven't been riding it long enough to teach anyone. Especially not you."

You gasped in an (overly exaggerated) shocked way. "Shoot me, it'll surely hurt less." You were trying to make him feel a little guilty, but you knew he was right. "I'm sorry, I really am!” He said, feeling bad when you looked at him like he just slapped you. “But uhh, you could try your chance with Baku? He was the one who taught me too, after all."

"Yeah, like Bakugou's ever gonna accept to teach me. Not even you would teach me, one of the nicest guys I know, let alone him!"

"Eh," he said with a toothy grin, you saw his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. "Shoot your shot. Maybe if you catch him in a good mood, you can convince him."

You pouted. Did Bakugou even have a good mood? Well, he did actually, but only when he beat the shit out of Izuku in training lessons. Other than that, he rarely even smiled.

"Yeah, I guess I'm gonna ask him. Thanks for your help, though." You said, half sarcastically but he didn't catch it. "Yeah, no problem!"

You exhaled the breath you didn't even realize you were holding. You weren't only hesitant because of, well, Bakugou being himself, but also because you had the biggest crush on him.

It was weird, really. You hated that you had a crush on Bakugou, and by doing so, you hated him too, but even that didn't prevent you from having a crush on him.

But you knew how he was the worst type of person to have a crush on, and you also knew he didn't even like you the slightest, the moment you met. So you decided it was the best to stay as far as you could from him and acted like you weren't, well, amazed by him.

He didn't make it hard either, and you didn't even know why you liked him so damn much. But you did, you were just thanking God Bakugou was such an insufferable person, so it was easy to hide your feelings as you could act like you couldn't stand him.

You realized you were in front of his dorm room, and you panicked since you didn't even plan what you were going to say, but you thought it would be better to just go with the flow this time. You gathered up your courage and knocked on the door. When the door opened, you thought you were going to go deaf from how loud your hard was beating. The door opened, and your gaze met the crimson eyes. You opened your mouth to say something as a little smile tugged on your lips-

The door shut in your face.

"Who was it?" You heard Denki's voice from the other side of the door. Bakugo tch'd as he answered, "Some extra I don't have time for." You couldn't say that didn't hurt, but you proceeded anyway. "Hey Denki, it's me, (Y/N)!"

You heard some shuffling voices coming from the room as you heard Bakugou's harsh voice. "If you open the God damn door, I'll blast you in-" The door opened as you saw Denki, the biggest smile on his face. "(Y/N)! Just the person I wanted to see."

He pulled you in a tight hug and hugged you even tighter when you tried to get away from him. "Get a fucking room. I don't care which one, but just stay away from mine." He mumbled as Denki snorted.  It was obvious they were studying, and you felt bad for interrupting it.

"Bakugou, you don't have to be jealous." His eyes widened as he growled frighteningly. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU-"

"Anyways, why are you here?" Denki asked to you, ignoring the fuming guy behind him. You were sure ignoring Bakugou was not the right thing to do, but you went along with it. "Oh, I just have to ask Bakugou a... Favor." You eyed him for a second. Was he in a good mood? You didn't even notice Denki exiting the room, leaving you two alone.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Probably not. But no going back now, you told yourself.

"I- I, have a favor to ask you." You said without meeting his gaze.

"No." One word made your head snap up, your eyes looking at his, now almost as angry as him. "What?! You didn't even hear what I have to say!"

He shrugged. "I said no. I don't do favors, nor do I have time for you, or whatever it is you want." He leaned up and was about to exit his room, but you gathered your courage, the words leaving your mouth almost in an angry tone. "I want to learn how to ride a motorcycle!"

His legs froze in their place as his body turned to you, his red eyes now angrier than ever. You didn't know why he was angry, but again, he was always angry. "You wanna what now?"

"I want to learn to ride a motorcycle." You said, this time a little calmer. "No." The word found its way out of his mouth once again.

"Oh my God, Bakugou, can't you at least think about it?" You stood up, now facing him. His shoulders so broad, muscles so defined, his face so- no, no, no, you had to concentrate.

"I thought about it, and my answer is no. What even made you think I would teach you?" Well, you had to give him credit, it was near impossible to convince him to do anything for anyone, but for desperate situations, you had to take desperate measures.

"Bakugou-" you said, your anger had disappeared, leaving it's place to sadness, desperation, and humiliation. His eyes a little surprised to see you so calm all of a sudden, you bit your lip as you forced yourself to beg him."Please... Please teach me, because no one else can! I- I'm begging-"

"Shut up." He said without letting you finish your sentence, and you couldn't help but feel relieved, you couldn't bear the thought of literally begging him, and once did his anger help you.

"Why would I do it? What could you offer me back?"

Now that was something that didn't even cross your mind, well on your defense, you didn't even think you would come this far! So you acted without thinking.

"Anything you want!" You realized your mistake almost the second you said the words, but you couldn't go back now. The smirk on his face made you feel uneasy.

"Now that's a deal." He said, his smirk still lingering on his face. "Come here tomorrow at 5 pm. One minute late and the deal is off."

"And Bakugou?" You said a little nervously. "What do you want back?"

This time his smirk made you feel straight-up terrified. "I'll hold on to it for a while, I'll let you know when I decide what I want."

Damn, this was a bad idea, wasn't it? He wasn't a predictable person, and now you gave him this power, the kind of power you would feel afraid giving to anyone, let alone to Bakugou. He knew you, knew how much you valued promises, knew you would go drastic measures to hold a promise you made. So now he could even make you murder Midoriya, though you doubted it, you were sure he would rather kill the green-haired boy with his own bare hands. But still, he could make you do anything.

***

"You know you're the last person on earth that should be learning how to ride a motorcycle." He said as he looked at you angrily. "If you continue to zone out like that, I'm not letting you get on the motorcycle."

For the last 30 minutes or so, he was talking about each part of the motorcycle, and it was only normal for you to zone out, he was your crush for God's sake, and this was all so boring. "Okay, I'm sorry. Can we just... Ride it now? I'm sure I'll understand it better while I'm on it."

"What kind of stupid logic is that?" He said but stood up nevertheless. Your eyebrows furrowed when he sat on the bike and turned the engine. "What are you doing?"

"Did you think I would let you get on it alone? You're sitting behind my back first." That sentence shouldn't have made your heart beat faster, your cheeks redder, but it did anyway.

You sat on the engine, the motor roaring under you, making you feel excited, the caramel and spicy smell coming from the man in front of you taking your breath away, making you imagine things you shouldn't. Your hands rested shyly on his shoulders, his spiky hair, surprisingly soft, touching your hand.

"Hold on to me like that, and you'll be on the ground the second we leave." He said, and you had to bring your head closer to him to hear what he said, your lips almost touching his cheeks. When you didn't move, he rolled his eyes and wrapped your arms to his waist, making your heart beat even faster. You could feel his abs underneath your hands, which made your cheeks burn, and you were so grateful he couldn't see you right now.

Without even telling you he started the engine, you almost slid on the asphalt, which made your hands grip him tighter, your whole body leaning on his. "There's nothing to be afraid, dumbass." He said, feeling your tight grip.

It took you a few seconds to get used to it. It was an incredible feeling to go this fast, feeling the wind and smelling everything around you. You still tightened your grip on him every time he took a turn, but he was riding it so smoothly, you felt... Safe.

You always felt safe around him, anyway.

Without even realizing what you were doing, you leaned your chin on his shoulder, his hair tickling your face, the smell of caramel making you dizzy and you tried to etch this moment in your mind, knowing you probably won't get a chance to be this close to him ever again.

When the engine died beneath your legs, you felt a bit sad because it ended but smiled nevertheless. "That was amazing."

His chest puffed with pride, and a smirk found its place on his face. "What'd you expect?"

"Death, if we're being honest here." You said, which made his eyes narrow.

"So, my turn?"

***

“I said left!” He screamed. “This is the third fucking time you mixed your left and right! How can you even do that?” He had screamed so much, you were worried about his voice. “I just mix them, okay?!” You answered, making him even angrier.

Having Bakugou as a teacher was hard. But then again, having you as a student was probably harder.

Everyone who told you that you weren't focused enough was right. You did zone out a lot, even -and especially- while riding, which ended with you almost dying more than you could count. But Bakugou could count, and boy was he pissed.

Once when you took the sharpest turn because you zoned out and almost tossed in the wall, you knew Bakugou was going to kill you, if you didn't kill yourself first, of course. Apparently, he was thinking the same thing.

"Oi! If you have a death wish, tell it to me beforehand, and I will do it for you!" He practically screamed, his red eyes now bright with anger resembling flames.

"I'm sorry I just-"

"Don't fucking apologize! Focus!" But how could you focus when he was this close to you, looking deep in your eyes and damn did he smell good. "Yeah, sorry." You mumbled.

"One more time and I'm done with this shit." He threatened before getting away from you. "Yes, sir!" You joked, but he rolled his eyes, probably begging God to save him from you. "Look, while taking turns, use your lower half. You have to bend your hip the way you're turning so it will turn smoothly."

His eyes may have lingered on your hip a little longer than necessary.

A few hours full of almost- deaths and heart attacks past, and both of you were tired. The sun was setting, and you felt hungry, you were pretty sure he was also starving.

"So um, thanks for today. I'm kind of tired, but would you like to eat or something? There's a noodle place close enough and-"

"No." Ugh, he loved that word, didn't he?

He wore his helmet, getting ready to go back to the dorms. When you were in front of him he put your helmet on your head, his touch surprisingly soft and light.

"Thanks."

"Shut it." A long, awkward silence lingered in the air as he sat on the motorcycle. "Now, where's this noodle place?"

You couldn't hold your smile in.

~~~

It was a smooth ride, you noticed how his hips moved every time he took a turn, his body moving as if he was a part of the engine. The setting sun painted everything in red and orange tones, and it was so pretty that it took your breath away.

When you were in front of the noodle place you climbed off the motorcycle, but your legs were so shaky you couldn't find your balance and would have fallen on your knees if Bakugou hadn't hold you.

"Tch, can't even stand on your legs?"

You stuck your tongue out, acting like a child, but you didn't care. You were just happy he tagged along with you to eat.

You found a booth, he was sitting across you with a look on his face you couldn't quite understand but chose not to say anything. The whole meal he was so quiet it made you worry a little, at the very least, he was the loudest person you knew and him staying so quiet for such a long time was against his character.

When you both finished your meals and got ready to go back to your dorms, the silence went on, but you just couldn't bring yourself to ask that one question that was occupying your mind. Are we going to do this again? It wouldn't be a shock if he called quits after today. 

It was only until you came back to the dorms he broke the silence. It was such a stressful ride for you that you couldn't even enjoy the chilly night and the caramel scent coming from him. 

He looked at you as he shook his motorcycle gears off of him. "The noodles were okay, I guess." 

Your eyes widened as a giggle bubbled in your chest. So that was what he wanted to say first? You couldn't help but snort, earning a glare from him. "What the fuck is so funny?!" His anger seemed to fuel your laughs even more since you felt like your tummy was going to explode from laughing so hard. "I'm sorry- It's just..." You couldn't even talk and he finally tch'd. "Whatever, just shut up already."

"Okay,” you said, breathing deeply, “I'm good now." He didn’t say anything so you felt obligated to break the silence. "So, thanks for today- for everything. For actually bearing me and taking me as a pupil takes the first place, though." You said jokingly, and he rolled his eyes. "You're not that bad of a student I guess." You gasped as an answer to that. "The Bakugou Katsuki complimenting me? I must've died sometime today." 

He rolled his eyes once again -either he had a serious eye problem you didn't know of, or he just couldn't stand you- but this seemed like it was his 100th time today. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't get used to it, dumbass. You won't be hearing any more of them the other lessons."

"Wh- What do you mean by the other lessons?" With this, his crimson eyes snapped up, looking at you with an unreadable expression. "Are you that dumb that you thought one lesson was enough? Or is it that you can't stand me so much that you would rather not ride a motorbike?" He tried to hide his hurt by looking mad, but you saw it either way.

"No! I would love you to teach me more! I just thought you would've just given up after... today. I know I'm not a good student, and you don't have time for- what was it again?" You snapped your fingers. "Extras."

He ignored your remark, he was looking at your face like he was searching for something but looked away when he saw you looking at him too. "I don't do anything half-assed. Even if you're a bad fucking student, if I told you I'll teach you, I'll fucking teach you."

That was an odd way to motivate someone, you thought, but it worked anyway. So you smiled at him and went back to your dorm, without even realizing the effect your smile had left on the angry boy.

***

You had to admit, it was a long week. Meeting with Bakugou every day after school, learning a new skill was harder than you had thought, but you secretly wished for it to never end, either.

"Can you focus for like three seconds?" An angry voice fumed behind you. "What are you thinking about anyway? This much dreaming is not healthy, you know." You decided that telling him that you were thinking about him wasn't a good idea, so you just smiled. He had brought water for the two of you, and you accepted it gladly. You hadn't even realized how late it was until then. 

The sky was a dark purple, the stars were shining brighter than ever. When Bakugou saw you looking at the sky, he scoffed. "It's getting late, wanna go back?" You shrugged, though you didn't want to go back the slightest. When you didn't say anything, he opened his water bottle.

You couldn't stop yourself from watching him drink the water -rather aggressively, too- how his adam's apple moved, his eyes fluttering with the feeling of the cold liquid going down his throat. You gulped at the sight, feeling your cheeks warming, and you drank the cold water in one go, to at least get rid of the warm feeling that was growing in your chest. 

You were so focused on the task of figuring out what the hell was this tingling sensation that went through your body every time he touched you, or why your heart beat faster he smiled so subtly, you didn't even realize Bakugou was watching you too, thinking the same thing as you.

Bakugou crushed the plastic water bottle in his hand, making you flinch with the sound, and once again focus your eyes on him. You didn't understand why he was angry now, but you stopped trying to do so after the first day. You were about to ask him what was wrong but stopped when you heard Kaminari's voice. 

He had a cheeky grin on his face as he walked towards you. "Hey, Y/n!" You smiled back, relief washing over you. "Hey, Denki! What's up?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, kinda missed you this past week, and when I saw you guys here, wanted to come and say hi." You could feel Bakugou getting angrier with every passing second, but you decided not to notice. "Oh, I missed you too." You answered when you heard Bakugou scoff, which caused Denki to giggle. "I guess I'll see you at the dorms tonight, it's getting late, though." He said as he started to walk away. 

You shrugged, staying up late with Denki was what caused you to have a non-existing sleep schedule. "Sure." You answered before turning your back at him and facing the now angrier than ever Bakugou. "So, you and Dunce face, huh? You guys a thing?"

It took you a second or two to understand what he meant, but when you did, your eyes widened, cheeks now beat red. "Oh, fuck no!" You exclaimed without thinking. His eyes widened at the curse that found it's way out of your mouth, and you thought this couldn't get any worse. "I- I mean, I love Denki, just not that way- and I got surprised when you..."

You stopped talking when you saw a smile on his face, which grew and grew until it was a full-on laugh. It was the weirdest thing, hearing Bakugou laugh. But as you watched him -in awe- as he laughed, you couldn't stop yourself from thinking that he should laugh more. It just suited him so much, how his body bent forward a little as he laughed, his eyes narrowing and almost hiding the bright red orbs. 

"That was the best fucking thing ever." He said after he calmed a little. You had started to laugh with him too, though you didn't think anything was funny, you just couldn't help yourself from laughing when he laughed. 

His eyes found yours, and you shared a look that lasted longer than it was supposed to. 

"Bakugou I-"

"Y/N, about the-" 

You both had talked at the same time, making you giggle. "You first." You said, and he snorted. "Of course me first." Okay then. "Remember the promise you made? About doing anything in return for me to teach you to ride a motorcycle?" 

You fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable with the topic. "We did have that deal, yes." He laughed at your reaction, his crimson eyes softer than you had ever seen him. You didn't know what was causing your heart to beat so fast, was it the dark sky creating a weird, romantic aura, or was it his eyes looking at you that way?

"Then I want you to do something." Why was he looking at you like this? You couldn't understand what his gaze meant, but it was so different from his harsh, angry look that you just couldn't look away. 

"If you ask me to go kill Midoriya, I'm not doing it." You answered, and he rolled his eyes. "Can you shut up for a fucking second? I'm trying to ask you out here." 

Your eyes widened, bigger than he had ever seen them, as you choked on your voice. "You what?!" 

"You fucking heard me." He scoffed, but you could see the fear in his eyes. "As your part of the deal, I want you to... Go on a date with me." He looked at you expectedly. "Or kiss me, whatever pleases you." Bakugou smirked as you punched his arm, face burning. 

"I would love to go on a date with you." You smiled, and he grinned as he tried to hide his relief. "Of course you'll go on a date with me, you promised after all." 

"Worst deal of my life." You said jokingly, but he stopped walking suddenly. Maybe it was a little too early for those jokes, you thought and tried to fix it. "I didn't really mean-"

"And you'll not go meet Dunce face tonight for whatever the fuck it is meeting for." You rolled your eyes, scoffed as you started to walk. "Oh come on, Bakugou, no need to get all jealous now."

"Jealous, my ass." He muttered, but he swung his arm over your shoulder, just in case.

[mrsbhandari]

wish you were sober

a/n: hey its a random ajay fic no one asked for fjkdlkjf;lskdj;f ANYWAYS im still working on that athlete au cuz its a BITCH but thats fine. i hope you like this one, it turned out way longer than i wanted it to oop--

words: 4k

warnings: underage drinking, swearing, light sexual harassment (brian crandall aka asshole of the year), like kinda suggestive if you squint

summary: ajay getting roped into the bullshit(tm)

tagging: @rulesofthebeneath, @theeccentricbibliophile

#

It was near midnight when she called, voice loud over the speaker of his phone and face lighting up the screen. He blinked blearily, unsure of what was really happening and what he should specifically do about this girl who called him and expected him to...what? Drop everything for her? Race over to Brian’s house and bring her home? 

I hate my fucking life, he thought as he pulled on some jeans and grabbed his keys. She looked crazy over the phone, speech slurring and loud laughs directed at something off screen that he wasn’t sure he really wanted to see. She yelled that he needed to get over there and hung the phone up abruptly, not allowing him to get any words in before she left, making his heart beat at the possibilities of what might happen if he didn’t pick her up. 

When he pulled up to the large mansion overrun with rowdy high schoolers, he couldn’t hold in his sigh. He was really traipsing into the lion’s den, looking for a fellow mouse that liked to wear a predator’s pelt, ignoring the looks of hunger pointed his way by the big dogs of both Hearst and Berry. He figured Skye would be upstairs in her room or sleeping over at someone else’s house, so being saved by her was out. Erin was on a trip with her family and Rory was practicing lines at their house, so he was sure that if Ajay was going to get Bailey, it was going to be by himself. 

He didn’t even know why she was here, and why the hell is he supposed to come get her? She probably tagged along with Casey, so why shouldn’t her own brother get control of her? She doesn’t even like me, he thought, grimacing and ignoring the odd stares at his behavior. He seemed to be doing well at hiding his crush on her in favor of the play, but no one told him how hard it was going to be with her! She smiled so easily, and he was just supposed to act like it didn’t make his hands shake and his heart beat faster and his mind race with thoughts of her lips on his and and and…

I hate my fucking life, he repeated to himself, making his way out to the backyard and the pool, keeping his head down to avoid any unwanted contact with people who could most definitely snap his spine in half if they wanted to. His eyes ran over the different sections of the backyard, focusing on the beer pong table that a certain blonde ponytail was near, making his heart skip a beat. He walked over, silently waiting for her to finish her turn and standing awkwardly until she did. What’s the etiquette for this kind of thing? He didn’t have to worry about it long because she sunk her shot and raised her arms up in a high V, shouting and laughing her elation at almost winning the entire game. He let out a small oomph! when she turned to him and wrapped long arms around his neck, seemingly noticing him for the first time. 

“Oh! Ajay!” Her breath stank of cheap beer, but she was so close to him and her body was so warm that he couldn’t find it within himself to care. “I’m winning!” She drew out the word, yet he hung onto every syllable like it was his lifeline, finding it to be the only thing keeping him from pressing his lips to hers, party be damned. A curse from her beer pong opponent brought him back to reality, making him pull back from her but keep a hand on his waist to ensure she didn’t fall drunkenly. 

“I’m here to take you home, Bailey. You called me?” He had to contain himself when she pouted, finding it to be the cutest expression ever, but she quickly turned away and slammed back the shots in the cups on the table. “Bailey, what the fu--” he began, but she let out a loud, giddy laugh. 

“I haven’t even gone for a swim yet?” She took a few uncertain steps, stripping her shirt off and then shimmying her skirt to the grass. Ajay shot glares at a few Hearst football players who whistled and catcalled her before following her protectively, hiding her body from the group of boys. “Ajay, join me!” She was painfully drunk, stumbling and moving far too loosely to be considered sober or dignified. 

“No, we can swim when you aren’t wasted, c’mon…” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few girls filming them, so he turned his body towards their camera to hide her again. She had been dressed for it, a cute black bikini accentuating her curves, but there was something inherently sweet yet dirty about how exposed she was. He knew it would sound selfish if he ever said it out loud, but it didn’t sit right with him, the fact that she wasn’t only doing this for him. She was drunk, and she barely even noticed him there, and even if she wasn’t drunk, she would never look at him the way he wanted her to. “Bailey, seriously, let me take you home.” 

“I’ve got laps first!” She walked over to the diving board and carefully stepped onto it, almost losing her balance at its wobble. 

“Hey, this chick is gonna jump drunk!” Brian yelled, laughing cruelly at the crowd of other high schoolers who meandered over to the side of the pool to watch. Ajay wanted to yell at how they should be focused on helping her instead of going viral, but he knew it would fall on deaf ears, the predators too preoccupied with the smell of fresh blood. He turned his attention back to Bailey, who was posing for a dive, which she didn’t quite follow through on as she made her leap from the board. Before he could catch her, she was in the water with a splash, providing lovely entertainment for the top of the food chain guffawing at her jump. 

“Bailey!” he yelled, leaning forward as much as he could without falling in after her. She rose to the surface, but was struggling, splashing the water and taking gulping breaths that never seemed to be enough as she kept slipping under. Shit shit shit! He thought, quickly ripping off his shirt and jacket and dropping his pants, disregarding the suggestive sounds falling out of his classmates’ mouths. Right now, he needed to help Bailey; he would deal with his pending payout from the possibility of a Buzzfeed article later. He threw his glasses on the small pile of his clothes as he jumped.

The sudden feeling of the water enveloping him was a shock, but he ran entirely on adrenaline to get over it quickly and swim over to Bailey, wrapping an arm around her waist and hugging her close in the water. She was still struggling against him, unable to stop the panic that was taking over her heart, but he found the edge of the pool and the ladder next to the diving board, quickly pushing her to sit on one of the metal steps. When her fingers wrapped around the rail, she calmed down quicker than expected, allowing him a moment of relief to catch his breath. 

“Aw, damn, I was hoping I would have to administer some CPR!” Brian whistled, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the pair in the pool. Suddenly, Ajay was hit with the realization that he was here...with Bailey...at a party...with a shit ton of high schoolers...in his underwear...sopping wet. 

I hate my fucking life. No matter how many times it ran through his head, a gorgeous face would pop up in his mind shortly after, making his features soften and his breathing slow. With a jolt, he felt her moving in front of him and opened his eyes just in time to watch her ass pass directly in front of his face, making him blush and look away. He climbed out after her, the reality of just what he did hitting him as he looked around at the other teenagers, all staring at him and Bailey like they were the only food available for miles. He found a towel on a table and handed it to her, but she offered it back to him with a flirty smile. 

“I think you need this more than me,” she whispered, eyes glancing downward for a split second before meeting his once more. He let out a cough and wrapped the towel around his waist, secretly happy he wore black, not-embarrassing boxers today. Collecting his pile of clothes from the side of the pool, he sneers at Brian when the boy stopped in front of them. 

“You think you can just make a mess at my party and leave without paying an exit fee?” He turned to Bailey, a sickly smile showing too many teeth and only making Ajay hurry to reach for his jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. “A kiss from the party girl?” 

“I think the fuck not,” Ajay said, tone low and threatening as he zipped up the thin layer over Bailey’s half-naked body. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to him and willing her to stop shaking at his side. She was suspiciously quiet, but he didn’t have time to worry about her; he needed to get her out of this party. 

“Oh, c’mon--”

“You lay a hand on her and I report you for sexual harassment, which will go down even worse when the cops look at the evidence of underage drinking. I’ll say it one time, and one time only: Fuck. Off.” He hid his satisfaction at the way Brian gaped at him and stepped out of the way. They silently walked off, Ajay’s hands full with his clothes in one hand and a drunk girl that he was secretly pining after in the other. He looked down at her briefly, eyeing her through her thick lashes that nearly closed over a sleepy gaze. Before he stepped back into the house, he looked over his shoulder to see Brian glaring after them. “Take that ‘exit fee’ and shove it up your ass!” With a resolute nod, he made his way through the house and to his car, surrounded by teenagers that he shooed away. 

“‘Jay…” she drawled, the first word she said in the past 5 minutes making him flush. “Where are we going?”

“Well, my house is closer, so I’ll text your brother and call your mom to say you’re staying over at my place.”

“Hm…” was all she hummed, allowing herself to be strapped in by him. He stayed outside the driver’s side to pull his pants on, but stopped with his shirt in his hands when she reached over and rolled the window down. “Leave it off!” She sounded like a child and he wanted to laugh, so bad, to just laugh with her and not worry about what the hell this party was and what the hell was going to happen in the morning and what the hell he was going to do when she was spending the night in his bed. 

But he couldn’t. 

“Sorry, Bailey,” he said, slipping the shirt down and smiling at her pained whines. 

“Such a Debby Downer,” she slurred. She looked back out of her window, pouting and ignoring him when he offered his phone, opened to Spotify for her. 

“I’ll make it up to you. Pick some music.” That seemed to distract her enough for him to get going, flinching at the volume she played WAP at and screamed the lyrics to. There was something intimate about this as well, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of how sweet it felt, wafting over his senses like being down the street from the bakery. You knew that the closer you got, the stronger the smell, and the more at home you felt amidst the warm pastries that lined the window. The closer he drove to his house, the more inevitable being close to her was, and he couldn’t get it out of his head as he switched his attention from the road to her hand movements as she rapped the lewd lyrics, fueled entirely by the alcohol. 

She whined more when he turned down the volume as he turned into his neighborhood, but he managed to convince her to be quiet with a single finger to his lips, something she seemed to focus on for far too long to even be attributed to the alcohol. She luckily kept this behavior up when he ushered her inside and to his room as quickly as possible while still keeping her from falling into several of Mohit’s loud toys and the large furniture that seemed to be ten times as dangerous at night. 

“I felt like I was on Wipeout,” Bailey gasped when he closed the door, voice entirely too loud for the quiet stillness of the room. He was about to scold her, but then she collapsed on the bed, making it creak and add to the genuine noise she brought everywhere she went. His heart decided that he liked the noises that were associated with her before his mind ever caught up, something that was happening a lot more nowadays when he saw her walk into the auditorium, ponytail swinging and smile wide. 

“Uh, here,” he said, offering a large t-shirt and some old pajama pants that were too small for him to her before turning around and covering his eyes. He heard the unzipping of his jacket and the ruffling of clothes, keeping his eyes shut under his hands as he waited for her with bated breath. He hated how his mind wandered to her even when he didn’t want it to, his eyelids seemingly tattooed with her bright eyes and curious gaze, always finding his glances with pinpoint accuracy that left him stuttering and looking away. She was here, in his room, drunk. Just a few feet away and he could reach out his hands to touch her, feel her skin under his palm, run the pads of fingers over her collarbone, the scar on her shoulder, the freckles on her cheek. His touch could linger for as long as he wanted it to, because she’d be looking forward to it as much as he was, and she would pull his face down for a kiss that knocked the breath out of his lungs. 

“You can look now,” was what a tentative voice behind him said, jolting him out of his fantasy and making him turn around. No matter how much mental preparation he could put his mind through, he never could fully be ready for the sight of the sight of his large shirt slipping off her shoulder, revealing the collarbone he had just been thinking about a few seconds before. She sat cross legged on the sheets, making her seem smaller than she really was. 

“You must be tired.”

“I’m not.”

“You looked ready to pass out at Brian’s, don’t bullshit.” He sounded unnecessarily harsh which made him feel even worse than he already did for her as she cast a glance down at her hands. He sighed. “Sorry, I was just worried.”

“About me?” 

“Well, you almost drowned, so yeah. I was worried.” Her gaze was still on her hands and she hummed, too full of thoughts for someone who probably couldn’t keep them straight. 

“Was that the only reason?”

“You talk too much. Aren’t you supposed to be passed out by now? I’ve never dealt with a drunk person before.” He saw her cheeks grow bigger and figured she was smiling; it made him smile, too, an indicator that he was too far gone to ever deny feelings for her that flitted around his mind like cobwebs. He shook them away to force himself to listen to her speak once more.

“I just…” She trailed off but stopped herself from releasing anything else, lips tight and silence awkward. 

“It’s fine.” His voice was too hurried, he sounded too panicked, and he cringed to himself when he got the simple words out. Damage control. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” She just hummed again, and he hated the way he analyzed it, searching for the hidden meaning as if the vibrations would unlock some new achievement, leaving a letter in his pocket that would lay out all the things felt between the two. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized he would be afraid to read it. “You take the bed.”

“What? Why?” Her voice raised unexpectedly, enough so that even she seemed surprised by the sudden raise in volume that was met with another finger to his lips. 

“It’s polite, I’m not making you sleep on the floor drunk.”

“Just sleep with me.” The alcohol was clouding her mind, letting more pass through her filter without a second thought. 

“I can’t do--”

“Why not?”

The challenging tone made him pause, unsure if she really meant anything by the insistent way she clenched her fists and stared up at him, nose scrunched in an adorable pout that made his heart melt. He could feel his resolve crumbling, which is surprising since he was always seen as one of the most stubborn students in the theatre department. Someone shouldn’t be able to wear him down this much unless they were holding a gun to his head. 

Or maybe they were just looking at him with such a determination in their eyes that it made him stop and consider the options for once. 

“If I do this, you’ll sleep?” 

“Yes,” she sighed more than spoke, scooting backwards on the bed and edging over to leave room for him. He wondered if she could already hear the beating of his heart, loudly rushing into his ears as he tried to calmly walk over to the side of the bed. It all felt domestic, like they were husband and wife, but he felt too loud to be considered casual. His feet pounded the wood below him and his large hands scraped against the sheets. He left a layer under him so as to separate him from Bailey, but it proved unsuccessful as she just climbed (stumbled) back out and then got back in on top of the same layer, getting rid of his barrier and only making him sweatier. He was still in jeans, they noticed at the same time, and she looked up at him expectantly. 

“You can change your pants you know.” She raised an arm to her eyes, closing and covering them. “I won’t look.” 

You can if you want to. 

The sentence was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t find it within himself to say it, opting instead to just silently get up and change, slipping his legs into pants that he only realized matched hers when he climbed back beside her. When he settled with his back against the headboard, he nearly yelped when her hand found his thigh, running her fingers over the soft material. 

“We match.”

“Yeah. Unintentionally, I swear.” He stiffened when she nudged closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“I don’t mind. I think it’s cute.” 

He never expected that “Bailey Called Something I Did Cute” to be written on his tombstone, but here he was: murdered by the shape of her mouth forming a word like that in reference to him. 

“Can I kiss you?” The question was unhurried and whispered in his ear, but it hit him like a bolt of lightning, sending tingles over his entire body as he flinched away from her. 

“What?” Half of his body was off the bed as she leaned closer to him, cupping his right cheek in one hand. She still smelled like shitty beer and chlorine, a combination that should’ve made him gag, but she managed to make seem like the highest priced perfume. It made him want to lean in right back, slot his lips against her plush ones and just accept that it happened, but he also knew that going back on his word to the rest of the theatre department was an awfully shitty move. 

“I want to kiss you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“What’s the saying? ‘Drunk words are sober thoughts’?”

“You want to kiss me when you’re sober, too?”

“All the time.” His breath hitched; Wasn’t expecting that development. “I wish I didn’t have to kiss Rory in the play. I think they like me and I don’t want to lead them on, but it’s so hard when the kiss is so anticipated. It’s especially hard when I have a crush on my director. ” 

Ah, the kiss, Ajay remembered, slightly ashamed at all the times they’d rehearsed the scene but he would always call for them to stop just before the climax of it. He knew it was kind of pervy, but he really only wanted to watch his crush kiss someone else the minimum amount of times he was required to: the four times they were performing the show, nothing less and absolutely nothing more.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Say you’ll kiss me.” 

“What about the play?”

“It’s your rule. You can decide if you want to break it with me.” She didn’t know he had already decided months ago when he saw her at auditions that if the opportunity ever made itself known, he would break a thousand rules just to feel her skin against his one time. And now he seemed to be giving in, leaning in closer and closer until her breath was hot against his, shared between the two like a secret. 

“I’ll kiss you,” he decided, finally closing the gap between them and kissing her. His lungs and chest felt tight, but any concerns about the play, the party, or the bitter taste of beer on his tongue melted away as she kissed him back fervently. He figured he should be impressed with how good she still was at kissing despite being wasted, but his thoughts were cut off as she pulled back. He was suddenly self-conscious, concerned about how good he was and the line of spit that still connected them. “What--”

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she breathed, chest heaving with the excitement and the alcohol still in her system. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Ajay.” 

Ajay loved music, but he decided that if he had to give up every single record he owned just to hear his name fall out of her mouth again, he would hand them over in a heartbeat. Despite the way his heart was beating out of his chest, he forced himself to sound casual as he looked down at her. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yes, you dork.” A drunken smile that stopped his heart and made his mind click trying to story it in his memory slipped onto her face, and she dropped her head back on his shoulder. “A long time,” she repeated softly, and before he could respond, she was asleep. 

He gently lifted her up and laid her down flat on the bed, making sure to keep close to her and her warmth. Just before he turned the light out, he pressed a kiss to her head, savoring the picture of her sleeping so soundly next to him, clutching his arm and one leg thrown over his waist. 

“Me too, Bailey.”

[satsuma-saturn]

is it alright if i ask for some belphie fluff? reader is female, if that’s alright w/ you! ^^ the scenario : reader gets her period, and this time the cramps are bad. they get bad that it prevents her from sleeping, due to the pain swelling up in her. she wants to sleep, but cant due to the cramps, so she goes to belphie to help get her to sleep. ^^

You Should Sleep - Belphegor x f!Reader

A/N: okay, so this highkey sucks and it’s short. it started off kinda strong, but i lost inspo part way through. i'll probably rewrite it in the future, but i didn’t want to put it off for any longer, which is why it’s rushed. i hope you enjoy anyway

WC: 1189

Warning(s): mentions of period/pain

fic is below the cut :3

For hours, you’ve been tossing and turning, trying to find the sweet release of sleep. Of course, this has been met with no results, other than the excruciating pain you’re in. Not to mention, none of the brothers understand what you’re going through. Mammon called you a drama queen and Leviathan just wrote you off as being a stupid normie. Basically, they’re useless. You feel like an idiot for expecting a bunch of demon brothers to be of any assistance. The only remotely helpful brother had been Beel, who offered you a singular piece of chocolate, not that it did any good.

As you sit up, giving up on sleep, you realize that there had been one brother missing from the picture while you were yelling around in pain. Belphegor. Most likely, he had been snoozing somewhere in the house, but he’s hard to find when he’s napping. Being the Avatar of Sloth, he typically sleeps wherever, like on a couch in the library, or even on the landing of the stairs. That time, it had been dark in the house and you’d stepped on him, waking him up and enraging him. Even though he doesn’t like being woken up, he was just mainly mad about being stepped on. At the time, you were terrified, but looking back, it was actually kind of funny. You’re not in a laughing mood, though. Exhaustion seeps into your core, yet the pain keeps you awake, hardly letting you linger on the precipice of sleep.

However, thinking about Belphegor gives you an idea. Who better to help you sleep than the Avatar of Sloth himself? Though he doesn’t necessarily have any magic to help you sleep, he is a good cuddler, his body always warm and smelling like freshly cleaned laundry. You scramble out of bed, hoping to find the path to sleep, with Belphegor’s help.

Padding down the hall, you slowly and carefully open the door to the twins’ room. Peeking inside, you see that neither of them are present. Most likely, Beel is having a late night snack in the kitchen, as he does every night, but where is Belphie? You sigh, knowing that he could be anywhere in the house. From the start, you know you can eliminate all of his brothers’ rooms, as well as his own, but there are still many rooms left in the house. Maybe he’s in the attic? He spends quite a lot of time up there, though you aren’t sure why, since that had been his prison for a long time.

While you stand in the doorway of the twins’ room, you feel a presence behind you. You freeze momentarily, praying to Diavolo that it isn’t Lucifer. The eldest acts similar to a hall monitor sometimes, disliking it when anyone is roaming out of their rooms at night. However, when you turn your head, you see that it’s just Beel, probably returning from his late night snack time. He appears to be confused about your presence in the doorway to his room, so you quickly try to explain the situation to him.

“Uh, I was just looking for Belphie. He isn’t here, though. Sorry for just bursting into your room,” you ramble, moving out of his way.

“No worries. I think he’s in the attic. He spends a lot of time up there, even though he was imprisoned there for a while.” A slightly worried look crosses his face as he glances at the ceiling, as if he could see Belphegor through the ceiling. You look up too, only seeing the blank ceiling staring back at you.

“I’m gonna go look for him,” you announce, heading for the attic stairs.

“Okay, see you,” he says, watching you for a few seconds, before he enters his bedroom.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you can hear soft snores through the slightly ajar door. You push it open the rest of the way, spotting Belphegor nestled in the pillows and blankets, his hair tufting in cowlicks off of his head. Despite him being fast asleep, he is alerted to your presence, grabbing you and pulling you toward him, like a child grabbing their toy. Normally, you’d be fine with it, but the sudden movements brought on a new wave of pain in your uterus. Alarmed by your sudden yelp of pain, he’s alert, his eyes wide.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. His voice is full of sleep, having just been ripped from it. You aren’t concerned, though, since he falls asleep quite easily.

“No,” you reply honestly, wiggling out of his arms and flopping down on the bed next to him. He lays down next to you, pulling you close.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, rubbing soothing circles on your back. His breath is warm on your forehead as he presses a kiss on it. You relax into his arms, closing your eyes.

“‘M in a lotta pain,” you mumble. “I have cramps ‘cuz of my period,” you explain, nosing into his chest.

“Oh,” he replies, probably unsure of how to reply. “That’s that thing that human women have to deal with, right? Like your body shits out blood for a few days?” You scoff in response.

“I don’t shit out blood, Bells. It’s--”

“I know. I had to listen to Satan explain it in extreme detail the first time you had it here. I didn’t care, but Lucifer wanted everyone to know, especially after Mammon thought you were dying. He’s just an idiot, though.”

“Okay. Anyway, the pain is really bad tonight and I’ve been trying to sleep for hours. Nothing I’ve tried has worked and it’s going to be worse for me tomorrow if I don’t get some sleep,” you explain.

“So close your eyes and sleep. I know I’m the Avatar of Sloth, but it’s not like I have some magical sleeping powers,” he quips. “Still, I guess I’ll let you sleep here and we can cuddle. After all, you always let me come to you for cuddles, so I guess that it’s okay that you came to me,” he says. He’s probably blushing, but you can’t see his face in the darkness.

“I know that, but I just--” The demon cuts you off, not giving you the chance to finish your thought.

“Shhhhh...go to sleep.” He slips a hand under your shirt to continue rubbing your back, his hand raising goosebumps as it touches your bare skin. The pain hasn’t exactly dissipated, but Belphegor’s presence soothes you. His lips press against yours, warm and slightly chapped. You make a note to buy him some chapstick. Soon his lips leave yours as he rests his chin on the top of your head. “You seem more relaxed now, and the sooner you get to sleep, the sooner I get to go back to sleep, so you should sleep.”

With a small nod of your head, you close your eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. The pain still churns your insides, but being in the arms of someone you love makes you feel at ease.

[gwennavierre]

I don't have a computer yet, but wanted to start writing a little fic where Plagg overindulges and gets... chatty.

I don't know how to do a cut in the mobile app, so sorry!

If you like this and want another chapter, please let me know!

__________

Notices: season 3 spoilers, alcohol consumption (by kwami, not kid)

Delicate combinations

Chapter 1

______

'Would you like some cheese with that whine?'

Adrien glared at the smirking kwami and stopped his tangent on how frustrating it was to be in love with a girl who didn't like him back. It wasn't her lack of feelings for him that was the main issue (though it was high up there...), but how difficult it was for him to let go of his feelings for her to pursue someone else. He enjoyed spending time with Kagami, and tried really hard to feel happy at the thought of possibly k-kissing her... but.. Adrien sighed. Plagg was right, he was whining and that wasn't doing anything but making him feel worse.

"Sorry, Plagg. I know you're tired of hearing this. I am too, to be honest. At least you're not stuck inside my head with my thoughts, right?" he grinned as Plagg sighed and heavily rolled his eyes.

'I need more cheese for this, Adrien. I'm wasting away, using all my energy to listen to you mope. In fact, I could go for some actual wine as well. It's been a while since I paired my cheese with a nice wine...' he tapped his.. chin? with his stubby arm while he pondered to himself about the delightful combination of good vin and fomage...

"I'll see what I can do, Plagg. Wait here!" The blonde was out the door the next moment, leaving Plagg to start drooling in anticipation.

When Adrien came back, he was holding a glass bottle under his shirt and doing his best impression of a spy in an overrated action movie. Plagg raised his eyebrows as his chosen turned and closed the bedroom door, badly humming a theme from one of those movies.

Turning to face Plagg, he pulled the bottle from its hiding place with a proud flourish. "Ta-daaaaa!" He rubbed his chin with one hand while turning the bottle in the other, reading the label.

"It's the first one I saw and one of the chefs almost caught me, so I don't know what kind I grabbed. I'm not really a fan of wine, either, so... I hope this is okay?"

Plagg hid the bit of emotion that almost showed on his face. Adrien might be an idiot, but he was one of the best humans he had ever had. He flitted to his cheese cupboard and chose the best piece to go with the bottle.

"I forgot to grab a glass.. want me to go get you on-...?"

Plagg had already forced out the cork and was somehow tilting the heavy glass bottle into his mouth. Adrien may not like wine, but he definitely knew that was not how one was supposed to drink such a fancy one... ah well. His kwami looked delighted as he went back and forth with the cheese and the wine, no doubt enjoying the (supposedly) delicate balance of flavors.

Smiling softly to himself, Adrien flopped onto his bed and pulled out some reading he wanted to catch up on. He hadn't realized how sleepy he was until he was woken up an hour later by Plagg... who had apparently been poking his nose while making "beep" sounds to bring him back to consciousness.

'Beeeeep' *poke* 'beeeeep' *poke* 'BEEEEEEPP!' *aggressive poke*

"Ow! Plagg, what the hell?" Adrien groggily sat up and covered his bruised nose with his hand.

'Finally! I've been soooo boorrrred, Adrien. You fell asleep and I had nooooo one to talk to except your pictures of Ladybug, and apparently she's not very talkative right now..' Plagg glared at one of the aforementioned pictures, thoroughly offended at its lack of engaging discourse over the past hour.

"Plagg... are you... are you drunk?"

'What? No, I'm Plagg. You lidderulllly jus' said it. Why would you think I'm Drunk? What kinda name is that, anyway??' the kwami wobbled a bit, even while floating in air, and gave a crooked smile.

Adrien stared blankly at him and slowly blinked. "Right. You weren't supposed to drink the WHOLE BOTTLE, you know!"

'How was I supposa know that, huh? You left it on the table for me. You didna say I had to limmmmmit myself.' Plagg sniffed in indignation and held his wobbly head up high and seeing the humorless Ladybug staring out at him again from her place on the wall. Plagg narrowed his eyes and floated towards it, seemingly tripping on himself a few times.

'And YOU!' he angrily pointed his stubby arm at the picture. 'You are NO help ADDDAALL, with your buggy liddle face making my cat go all loopy dovey goggly eyes.'

Adrien rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes as he watched his kwami yell at a poster. This... was starting to be very entertaining, if also a bit embarrassing. Poor Plagg was all he had to talk to about his love for the polka dotted heroine, after all. He was bound to get frustrated with it eventually...

Adrien tuned back in to Plagg's lecturing of the Ladybug poster.

'...an.. an he won't... stop... talking about you an I know you ca't stop talking 'bout him either, and you're both soo... sooo... UGH.' Plagg was pulling at his face in frustration.

Adrien frowned.

"Plagg, what do you mean she 'can't stop talking about me either'?"

'Wha? Oh. Yeah. Badylug. She's todally obsessed with you. More than you are with her, 'ccording to Sugarcube... '

Adrien felt his face heat up, even as confusion clouded his brain..

"Ladybug barely tolerates me, Plagg. She's not obsessed with me... she likes someone else, after all..." he couldn't control the sad sigh that escaped his lips.

Plagg narrowed his eyes in Adrien's general direction (he wasn't sure which Adrien was the real one, so focused somewhere between the two). He had had ENOUGH. Boi was gonna have a 'come to kwami' moment, right here, right now.

'Adriennnnn... you are the best black cat I've evver had..' he allowed his words to sink in and bring a smile to Adrien's face.. 'you're also the most infuriating and dense one I've had!' welp, so much for that smile... may as well get this over with..

'YOU are the one badylug likes, you freaking idiot. She's obsessed with you, has pictures of you all over her walls!'

"... what do you mean? Why would she keep turning me down then?"

'Not pictures of Chat NOIR, you idiot. Pictures of YOU. ABRIEN UNDRESSED. Um.. Adrien Agreste. Heh. I'm star'ing to sound like her... an.. an Sugarcube hasta... hasta put up with her moaning abou' YOU, 'cause you don't even know she likes you cuz you.. you're stuck on Badylug!!' Plagg hadn't actually slipped up on her name that time. He had started liking it and was now saying 'Badylug' intentionally. He tried to focus his eyes on the two shocked looking Adrien's sitting on the bed. Was this.. okay? Should he have told him so much? Could he have survived anymore pointless pining if he HADN'T said anything? Glancing at the empty bottle of wine, he knew the answer to that. He was doing this for all of them. Adrien, Badylug, Sugarcube, and himself.

Besides, it's not like he's telling him her identity or anything... he should be happy knowing his love loves him back, right?

Adrien blinked several times. Ladybug... liked him? Liked Adrien? No.. was obsessed with him?? Had pictures of him on her walls??

He cursed gravity for not allowing him to float up to his ceiling on a cloud of bliss.

Ladybug... loved him. And he loved Ladybug.

Wait. Ladybug loved him but he had no idea who she was. Was he ignoring her advances the way she ignored his as Chat??

"Plagg! Who is she??"

'Nuh uh, I'm not 'sposed to tell ya.'

"I know that, but.. Plagg, if she loves Adrien and doesn't give Chat a chance because of that, and what if I'm doing the same thing to her??"

'Gee. I wonder.' Plagg's sarcasm shot at Adrien, who gasped.

"Tha- that's why you've been so annoyed! You know who she is! Her kwami knows who I am, too, right?" Plagg nodded.

"So.. you two have been watching and listening to us fall apart over our love for each other and didn't think to mention any of this before NOW?"

Plagg glanced sideways at Posterbug and stage whispered 'maybe this wasn't such a good idea afferall, Badylug...' Posterbug winked at him. Yep. He had most definitely overdone it with the wine.

Boldly ignoring Adrien's rant, Plagg phased into a cupboard and curled up for a nap. Adrien will calm down, eventually. Then maybe he can stop moping about Ladybug and start paying attention to a certain girl in his class who smells like cinnamon and freshly baked bread. Plagg sighed and tuned out Adrien's attempts to open the cupboard. Plagg was no longer bored, but definitely needed a nap.

[cosmosrival]

👀 Does Kama like to peg Ash? 👀

u know what... ? u know what ?

KamAsh headcanons (AND NSFW HEADCANONS) time!!!!!! i don’t care anymore i had fun writing the kama*master ones 

so have these !!!!! might also become a character analysis and trivia because i cannot stay consistent when im talking about them !!!!

reminder bfore i start: ITS FINAL ASCENSION KAMA. NOT THE OTHERS. 

ok we’re good now

i think kama tops by default in every relationship they’re in, but their true strength resides in the fact that they are vers. and i believe that ash is ALSO vers. because flustered kama is a luxury and super cute and delicious and BECAUSE YOU WOULDNT LET YOUR GOD OF LOVE TOP YOU ???? ARE YOU SURE ??? YOU WOULDNT LET URSELF BE PAMPERED BY UR GOD ? ARE U REALLY SURE ?

ash is very cute because he’s gap moe, his respect for parvati shows that he’s not just a rage machine and can very much think normally like ur regular gold hearted delinquent anime boy !!!! god i Love him... anyway, i think he respects kama enough to look out for them and worship them like a proper God!! i believe that ash would call kama things like ‘your divinity’, ‘your grace’ (and if u have some jp knowledge, i think he’d add “-sama” to their name) because they... are god? (i think arjuna and karna also call them like this !! polite mahabharatan warriors are good boys)

since ash never married in the epic, i like to think that it’s because he was very much focused on his duty and ALSO because his participation in the war was out of loyalty towards king dhritarashtra and hastinapur so he was... perhaps planning on getting married once the war Ends ??? HE WAS OUT THERE FIGHTING !!!!!!! but we all know what happened to him (sheds a tear) 

anyway i think he’d be a bit of a masochist. (the room falls silent and you all look at me)

SORRY THAT WAS VERY HARDCORE ALL OF A SUDDEN but hear me out, FIRST OF ALL this man was able to endure an immortality curse until lord krishna eventually decided to free him so he’d join the throne and SECOND OF ALL, in his interlude he speaks of looking for ways to repent because he regrets what he’s done. and since we’re kinky over here, i’m gonna throw gentle femdom in the mix bc i think it fits them and its cute. especially because kama is literally the best person he could apologize to. and the only person who’d make his repentance pleasurable (because its their mcfreakin talent !!!!!) even if it technically wasnt his fault, i think his need to atone would just... overpower that and he’ll want to do anything kama wants, just to earn a crumb of forgiveness (without being desperate about it because... HES GOT AN EGO STILL, COME ON)

i like to think that he’s tried to apologize properly before... in a tense moment when they’re both more calm and alone. but kama stopped him because it’d just make things worse. if kama loses the need to have a grudge, will they even be useful as a servant anymore ? would they forgive themself for being so lenient ? forgiving their murderer’s protégé when they havent even had proper revenge ? kamadeva might have been a benevolent god before, but now they’re a lot more malicious (mara...) and this pointless anger would just make them look like an idiot (because servant shiva doesnt exist (YET?)). and i think ashwatthama would understand. 

so he won’t say the words “i’m sorry” because it’d just hurt them. 

THO WILL HE STOP LOOKING OUT FOR THEM AND SPOILING THEM ? no he will not

kama would find him interesting because he’s perfect bullying fodder but as i said before, it doesn’t work on ash. HE’S A WARRIOR ??? A CURSED IMMORTAL ? DO U THINK THAT PETTY PRANKS LIKE THE ONES KAMA DOES WOULD AFFECT HIM ? “are you bored ?” he asks while they’re trying to surprise him from behind and jumpscare him, without even turning to face them. kama groans in defeat.

SEDUCTION DOESNT WORK ON HIM EITHER AND THATS SO FUNNY but thats where it becomes subtle, he grows attached to them because they’ve gotten used to eachother’s presence (and strength in battle... small things like that). love can be born out of simple things!! blatant bimbo seduction doesn’t work on him but when he comes to wake kama up, and they’re too lazy to get up or float and groggily order him to lean forward so they can hold onto his shoulders so he’ll lift them up when he straightens himself is...

he’d find it cute. they’re cute. when they reach the cafeteria it’s still quite early and he already knows what they like to eat and get their plate ready for them while they’re waking up and yawning. god... they’re cute... its so subtle and cute...

......ok time to be horny !!! (TOMATOES GET FLUNG AT ME)

i think that they’d reach this stage after a while, when kama just gives up on bothering him cuz he’s annoyingly strong (and ganesha is more fun to bother anyway) and since they’re around eachother very often, kama would grow comfortable around him. same for ashwatthaman ! they’re very nice to be around when they’re calm and just chillin. 

the only teasing kama hasn’t tried on him is being openly horny and come onto him, asking him things about himself. and ash revealing that he’s never done these sorts of things before (HES A LIL MAD CUZ ITS EMBARRASSING ... DAMN... !!!), i think it’d give kama ideas. I MLAUGHING TYPING THIS BC I DIDNT THINK OF HOW THEY’D COAX HIM INTO GETTING NAUGHTY YET AND IT SOUNDS LIKE A BAD PORN INTRO AHHHHHHHHHHH

ok yeah like i said i didnt think of the coaxing yet but knowing ash, kama could turn it into a competition and make fun of him a little and he’s ready to go. arrogant dummy. 

he’s polite but his arrogance is a charm point because he’ll def want to prove himself to the god of carnal love. imagine kama’s reaction when he actually outfucks them.

HONESTLY ? I BELIEVE HIS WARRIOR STAMINA WOULD JUST BE INCREASED ONCE HE BECAME A SERVANT. AND KAMA WAS NEVER A WARRIOR theyre a lavish and lazy god.

BUT THEIR EGO IS WOUNDED and their shocked reaction is cute and ash wants to keep holding them for a little longer

their sessions genuinely feel like hatefucking at first since they’re both weirdly competitive like that but then, guilt hits and kama feels like an idiot because they just came onto someone thats supposedly their enemy??? and they’re a bit distant in the aftermath, they almost... look a little shy. 

ashwatthaman isnt beating himself over it as much as they are tho. it felt good, he got to see a new side of them he never thought he’d get to see so intimately and... he outfucked God :) SO HE IS PROUD. but looking at them lying there, breathless and looking all sad worries him. so i can see him leaning forward and spooning them, holding their hand and kissing their fingers and it’s such a soft gesture, kama stutters and asks “Where.. where did you learn to do that.” and seeing their reaction, Ash blushes as well and explains that he saw his father kiss his mom’s hand once???? AND ITS... SUCH A CUTE AND OBVIOUS REASON. kama feels dumb for asking but it makes them chuckle. 

and i think seeing someone who constantly looks so tired and depressed, have a genuine little chuckle would melt ash right there. i think he’ll want to see more. 

AND FROM THAT POINT ON, i think kama would also get used to this... intimacy they start to share. when he wraps his arms around them he always hugs them in this protective way, as if he wanted to shield them from something. and when he holds them like that, they always feel the need to wrap their legs around his waist, hide their face against his neck and Allow him to cuddle them.

they both have an ego u know aha. so if u openly ask them about eachother, they’ll get embarrassed and shut u down. IT’S... IT’S NOT LIKE THAT (sweats)

it is. it is like That. 

ANYWAY THEYRE BOTH VERY VERSATILE and ash is pretty much into everything kama could teach him about. like i said earlier, he’s also fine with being manhandled, mostly the feeling of kama’s nails gently pressing against his skin, or being bit. i think he’d be into getting a lil feral.

a mutual once said that sexually liberated ashwatthama is hot as hell and i feel it in my bones.... kama coming onto him after a particularily short mission that got ash angry but not enough to let out some steam --> they get pounded into the mattress and they live for it because riling him up when he’s like that is actually really fun.

OBSESSED WITH THE BOTH OF THEM SLOWLY SEEING IT AS A GAME AFTER A WHILE... 

OH ash bottoming is also very cute. his first times would be awkward but kama is a pro at this anyways and i’m finally going to answer ur ask: YEAH HE GETS PEGGED !!!!! he finds out how excited he gets when kama calls him a good boy !!! and he never knew that he was into these sorts of things but holy shit it feels nice.

when kama gives him his first blowjob he almost loses his mind

what i really love about kama is that they can see how tense he gets, even if he’s having a great time, and i know they’d teach him how to relax. EVEN WHEN THEY’RE RIDING HIM, they’ll massage his pecs and his shoulders, set the pace and squeeze down on him just to hear him moan. stare at his surprised little face because he didn’t know he could make THAT kind of nois e ? ? ? ? ?

HE’S EMBARRASSED but he doesn’t want them to stop

OH YEAH i wanna come back on the whole masochist thing (I GET SNIPED), him getting repentance and being punished through sex is both very liberating and hot as hell, especially when it’s kama. ashwatthaman moaning ‘your divinity’ like it’s a prayer is also hot as hell !!!!!!! IDK i just think that they can both get very intense, and also last a while, until they’re thoroughly SPENT.

...and leave room for softness. kama gently brushing his wet hair behind his ear, leaving him breathless and a little shy. they then lean in to kiss him and he immediately melts into their touch. but then they bite his lip. and he ... he Likes it but he could almost pout.

time to get a little angsty (i lock gazes with you) i think that after a long while of sharing such a relationship, ash would almost say The Forbidden Words in a daze. and kama deeply kisses him so he stays quiet. and they’re just staring at eachother, until kama tells him that he’s not allowed to say it. and if he does, it’ll almost be a betrayal towards shiva AND themself. they’ve grown impossibly close but neither of them can say Those Words because they both feel like they’ll break something.

also bc they both have huge egos.

but i think that deep down they really want to say them. 

another variant of this is kama wanting to make him admit it, have him say Those Words. but because of his blessing and respect towards lord shiva, he cannot. both because of the guilt and that it’d end up feeling like a lie, even if his touches, his kisses and the way he looks at kama screams otherwise.

BUT REE WHAT ARE THE FORBIDDEN WORDS

"I Won't Say (I'm in Love)" Hercules (1997).

is this enough of a clue ;;);)););;;))))))) HAAHA

THEY HAVE SO MANY LAYERS TO THEM ITS UNREAL

anyway shower sex hot !! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

i also think that them mutually jerking eachother off is hot as all hell and ONCE AGAIN, flustered ash who doesn’t know what he’s doing (at first) is cute !!!! cute !!

ashwatthaman LEARNING from kama is also a big fave. they’re abt to bathe in kama’s luxurious bathtub they had master buy for them and they’re removing their earrings and he silently leans forward and bites their ear and suddenly their face is red. god. huge dummy god of love. i love them soooo much its unreal

THEIR DYNAMIC IS BASICALLY.. I WONT SAY IM IN LOVE but still look at eachother like they’re newlyweds everytime they get intimate and (sheds a tear) i think theyre super married

GOOD GOD .......BODY WORSHIP IS SOMETHING THEYRE BOTH HEAVILY INTO ALSO. both giving and receiving, even if kama is a lot less obvious about it and a lot more smug.

oh, i think ash would be the loudest between the two !! THIS ONE WAS OBVIOUS. hearing him like that would also coax kama into making more noise as well so its win-win 

ok to be honest i think i should draw porn of them being soft like... THERES DETAILS I HAVE IN MIND THAT ARE IMPOSSIBLE TO WRITE DOWN IN THE HEADCANON FORMAT and i’m too nervous about writing fics (looks away) but i have things to draw.

ANYWAY I THINK THIS GOT VERY LONG ????????? SO IM GONNA STOP HERE. IF U MADE IT THIS FAR: THANK U FOR LISTENING TO MY BRAINWORM !!!! 

[bloopbyoop]

weep woop

ayo. ive read my scheduled email and its time for freewriting shit again. lmao. I want this post to be like a small light from a lit match stick inside a very hollow, icy, and numbing cave. (sounds cartoonish right? I know. Im obsessed with Adventure Time.) I want all people to be genuinely happy.  Spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Upon reaching my 24th anniversary in this world, I finally learned how to truly embrace all my emotions. Some are more overwhelming than the other, but we have to heed in our treacherous yet perplexing minds that everything is fleeting and we are in control. The feeling of extreme sadness fades, but so does joyful states. Everything can change in a matter of minutes or years. You are in control of all your emotions. You are in control of all your life choices. Your actions. Your words. Your perspective. It feels weird to actually write about it. I've wanted to talk about it. I never wanted help from anyone as I firmly believed that I was alone. Sure, I have a family and friends, but it is hard to see that when your head is clouded with negativity. I've even come to the point where I was too overwhelmed, I found being physically hurt less painful. The pain I felt distracted me from what I was thinking. My mind tended to go bonkers. lmao. But bro, I was so good at concealing my bonkers mind. It's easy to fake any emotion that you have. Slap anything sunshine-y or happy to anything and people would believe you. It went on for years. Long story short, thousands of bracelets collected, it became worse. The physical pain could no longer withhold the emotional pain. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't stop thinking. And voila! I found a good amount of self help books (from tumblr) and novels. Novels that brought me to different places. Self-help books that made me understand what I feel and what to do. I've read that taking the easy way out will leave everyone sad. AND IN THE FIRST PLACEEEEEE, I NEVER WANT THATTTTTTT. I want everyone to be happy. I would act foolish and do dumb shit to make everyone happy in a heartbeat. So, that idea made me push a few more years. Later on, the crippling shit came crawling back again to my head, sooooooo I needed new shit to keep me distracted again. Films, series, music, and short clips from YouTube helped me out a lot. Every single time that my mind is going to think like anything that can think of, even to the point that I was just going to think that I might be hungry, I'd watch something. There's just something about silence for me. Because of this new habit of mine, I've learned more about myself. I love different types of things. I like horror. I like thriller. I like comedy. I like romance. I love all types of films, but there is something about the horror genre that interests me. I still can't point out what, but I love watching horror films. With regards to music, I've learned that I love Indie, Punk Rock, Rap, and Pop. We all can't like a specific genre. It's stupid to ask "what genre of music do you like?". It's not actually stupid-stupid, it's just stupid. Ya know? Anyway, passing this phase, I needed to find something again because it's not doing the shit that it was supposed to, I tried investing more time on video games. By investing more, I mean a whole shit lot. I love video games since I was young cuz.... u know.... they keep u... try to guess it! oh yeah. you got that right! distracted! I love the aggressive plays and trashtalks that my friends and I make. The short stories we tell one another. The rants. The lame jokes. The late night we sound drunk but we are not drunk jokes. The roleplays. The lame jokes. The memes. And once again, The lame jokes. Something about lame jokes and the laughs and curses after that always gets me every single time. Oh shoot. Yup Yup. Few years later, I finally noticed the pattern that my sadness is temporary. I got over it one way or the other (or another. depends on how you wanna read it. i dont wanna say another cause i might write about one direction like what im doing now so-). Happiness is temporary as well. But, we are the ones who are actually in control of our emotions. If you wanna feel sad, be sad for a while. You're getting too sad? Try hanging out with your funny friends. Can't do that? Find an alternative. Watch a movie, knit a sweater. Anything your mind could think of as long as it will keep you mentally distracted from being physically and mentally hurt. I do have a few notes though. We cannot and should never assume what people are going through. It may be petty for you, but it may be very crucial to them. So never everrrr say things like: -Some people have it worse than you -At least you have ..... These sheetsss are annoying as heckkk and could really down someone. I know it is not your intention to annoy but people react differently. alsooooooo, it is not okay or normal to hate on things for bandwagon. that is just plainly crazy and stupid. let people enjoy things. anddddddd never suppress your emotions. admit what you feel inside and try to think of a way to resolve ittttt. keeping it to yourself will just make it worseeeeee. find your own outlettttttttt. hihihi ️ alsooooo. being more spiritually full with God's words and ideas really help me to be spiritually happy. ps. im christian but i dont discredit other religion and even applaud other religion's ideas and beliefs. this is a really long, selfish post so i might as well recommend some things I like : Songs with their lyrics that made me go through life. “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier” -All These Things That I've Done, The Killers “It's not too late, I'm still right here” -Breaking Your Own Heart, Kelly Clarkson "And the salt in my wounds / Isn't burning any more than it used to / It's not that I don't feel the pain / It's just I'm not afraid of hurting anymore / And the blood in these veins / Isn't pumping any less than it ever has / And that's the hope I have / The only thing I know that's keeping me alive" -Last Hope, Paramore “There is not a single word in the whole world / That could describe the hurt / The dullest knife just sawing back and forth / And ripping through the softest skin there ever was / How were you to know?” -Hate to See Your Heartbreak, Paramore "It's holding on, though the road's long / And seeing light in the darkest things And when you stare at your reflection / Finally knowing who it is / I know that you'll thank God you did" -1800, Logic "Did some things you can't speak of / But at night you live it all again / You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now / If only you had seen what you know now then" -Innocent, Taylor Swift (My bb) "10 months sober, I must admit / Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it / 10 months older, I won't give in / Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it // Rain came pouring down when I was drowning / That's when I could finally breathe / And by morning gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean" -Clean, Taylor Swift “I guess I always knew / That I had all the strength to make it through.” -Believe in Me, Demi Lovato "I'm addicted to the madness / I'm a daughter of the sadness / I've been here too many times before / Been abandoned and I'm scared now / I can't handle another fallout / I am fragile, just washed upon the shore / They forget me, don't see me / When they love me, they leave me" -I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me, Demi Lovato “I'm overwhelmed / I need a voice to echo / I need a light to take me home / I need a star to follow / I don't know” -Nightingale, Demi Lovato "I'm a walking travesty / But I'm smiling at everything. // Arrogant boy, Love yourself so no one has to." -Therapy, All Time Low "I tried it once before but I didn't get too far / I felt a lot of pain but it didn't stop my heart. / But maybe I'm alive 'cause I didn't really wanna die / But nothing very special ever happens in my life / Take the blade away from me I am a freak, I am afraid that / All the blood escaping me won't end the pain / And I'll be haunting all the lives that cared for me / I died to be the white ghost / Of the man that I was meant to be" -Ghost, Badflower "Are the pieces of you / In the pieces of me? / I'm just so scared / You're who I'll be / When I erupt / Just like you do / They look at me / Like I look at you" -DNA, Lia Marie Johnson Movies and series to try : -The Perks of Being a Wallflower (The book is bomb af. if yall havent tried, ur missing out) -The Kings of Summer -Never Let Me Go -The Art of Getting By -Silver Linings Playbook -Winter’s Bone -The Lovely Bones (The script. The words) -Me and Earl and the Dying Girl -American Horror Story -Black Swan

pps. remember that every one has their own pace and point of view. don’t push yourself too hard, and don’t overthink. give yourself time, and respect all your emotions. analyze them but not more than like 5 minutes as anything beyond that might cause you to overthink and be sadder. and sad is not rad. hehe. you got this. you got you. self love is the best even though it can be tricky to do. nobody else is like you. you’re the only one of you (i just remembered me.......... i might have hummed it while typing it mid sentence). consider other people’s opinion but do not let it cloud your own judgement as you know yourself best. dont let other comment’s define you. spread love. vibe people you vibe with. ayeeee lets go!!! 

ppps this is my last post bc im happier now and know myself better. i no longer limit myself on the age that I want. I want to live as long as how God wants me to be. hehe. 

x :D

[megsironthrone]

A Secret Relationship

Based on this request: I have another request about sandor if it’s not much trouble to you. Him and the reader work together and they secretly in a relationship and they act like there’s nothing between them infront of everybody, till Beric accidentally finds out

AND: I want to request a really really fluffy fic, about sandor when he comes back from a work trip that lasted for weeks, and be surprised about how much the reader missed him, cuz he is a bit insecure about himself and it’s hard for him to imagine that somebody could love and miss him that much I’ll really appreciate it if you could bring his childhood somehow cuz who doesn’t love a big man with childhood issues??

Here you are, lovelies! *Characters are not mine!*

Warnings: Fluffy Modern-ish AU. I think that’s all.

Pairings/Characters: Sandor Clegane x reader, Beric Dondarrion briefly. 

You paced around the living room, wringing your hands. Sandor had been gone way too long for your liking. It was strange, living and working together all the time, and then suddenly not be together every moment. You had wanted desperately to fight against Sandor going, but you couldn’t. You weren’t supposed to be in a relationship at all. It was technically against the rules, but you and Sandor just couldn’t seem to help it. You gravitated toward one another and eventually decided to say screw the rules.

         "Come on, Sandor. Where are you?“ you questioned quietly to the empty house. You went back to your pacing even though you were supposed to be attempting to cook. "You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor; you keep pacing like that.” You stopped pacing and whipped around to see your giant of a boyfriend standing in the doorway of the kitchen. For a moment, you couldn’t even breathe, let alone move.

         He looked no worse for wear. A little thinner and his beard was a little more full, but he was there. Your Sandor was there. “Sandor,” you finally managed to breathe out before launching yourself at him. He caught you with ease, having gone through this exact thing every single time he was gone for more than a couple of days. It wasn’t that you were necessarily needy. You just missed him.

         "I missed you,“ you said, though your voice was muffled by his chest or shoulder. You weren’t exactly sure which and you didn’t care at the time. "I wasn’t gone that long.” You let out a little noise of complaint when he tried to pry you off him. “Y/N…I need a shower and some food.” You made the noise again, prompting Sandor to sigh heavily. He carried you over to the couch and sat down with you draped across his lap. “Better?” You nodded against him.

         Sandor’s stomach grumbled, but he made no move to get up. He knew you needed this time, although he didn’t understand why. He knew you loved him but he still couldn’t believe that you loved him THAT much. In his own eyes, he wasn’t worthy of you. Never had been and never would be. But you always reassured him that you were there for him. It never failed to surprise him.

         Sandor hadn’t had the best childhood. One look at the scars along his face and anyone could see that. His brother was a psychopathic bully and his father had always favored the older of the two boys and their mother died. Sandor was left scarred, unloved, and alone. He spent most of his life that way. Sure, he’d had a date here and there, but nothing permanent until he met you.

         He was pretty certain it was the way you smiled at him when you first met that was his downfall. There had been no disgust at the sight of his face. No fear from his glare. Nothing but real tenderness and compassion. As he got to know you, Sandor fell harder and harder each day, but said nothing. You made the first move, even knowing that both of you could lose your jobs. It was a risk you were both willing to take and now, here you were, four years later, in no rush to leave each other’s company any time soon.

         Another rumble from his stomach even had you picking your head up from his shoulder and laughing. “Alright. I get it. Feed the beast. Go grab a shower and I’ll see if I can salvage whatever it was I was cooking.” You moved to get off his lap, but Sandor pulled you back down. Before you could utter a protest, Sandor kissed you softly.

         "I love you, you know that right?“ you asked him. His brown eyes met your (e/c) ones and he nodded. "I don’t understand how or why, but I know you do. I love you too.” You grinned. “I know. Now go bathe. You’re smelling a little ripe there.” Sandor growled playfully at you as you got up and walked back into the kitchen. He watched you go with a rare smile on his face.

         "You could join me,“ he called after you, "And give me a proper homecoming.” You poked your head out of the kitchen and laughed. “Perv. Go on.” With a deep chuckle, Sandor hauled himself off the couch. He showered as quickly as he could, wanting to be back in your company sooner rather than later. Plus, he really was hungry. After he was showered and dressed, Sandor left the bathroom. In an instant, he could tell the atmosphere of the place had changed. Something was different. Sandor came into the kitchen to find the table set, complete with candles and you standing there in your very best.

         "What’s all this?“ he asked, making you grin. "I thought you deserved a nice welcome home.” Sandor stared at you for a moment. It may not have seemed like much to other people but to him, these small gestures were what made Sandor feel so loved by you. He took your hand and pulled you to him. “Dance with me?” you asked quietly. It was only then that Sandor noticed the music softly playing in the background.

         Sandor contemplated telling you no. He wasn’t much for dancing, but you looked up at him with those puppy eyes and he couldn’t deny you anything. Sandor began moving to the music and you sighed happily. You stared up into his eyes with nothing but pure love. The two of you were so engrossed in each other, neither of you realized that Sandor had forgotten to lock the door when he came in.

         The home you shared with Sandor had been yours alone at first. When you started dating, you would only lock the door when you were sleeping or if Sandor was there. You had pretty much an open-door policy for friends and family when you were home. A fact that you had quickly forgotten when Sandor moved in since hardly anyone took advantage of it. Now you wished you had locked the door.

         "Well, this is a surprise.“ You and Sandor jumped apart as you eyes swung over to the door. Beric Dondarrion, your oldest friend and your employer, was there watching you with a smirk on his face. "Beric! What are you doing here?” you asked. “Apparently interrupting something,” he replied with a chuckle. You tripped over your tongue as you tried to explain everything while Sandor just stood there. He didn’t care one bit what Beric thought about your relationship, but he didn’t want you to lose your job either.

         "Relax, Y/N. It’s obvious you two care about each other and it’s not effecting your work. I’m not going to fire you. Not today anyway. I just noticed that you haven’t been yourself lately and thought I’d see if I could help. Clearly, I’m no longer needed so I will leave and let you carry on. Y/N. Clegane.“ With that, he was gone.

         You turned to Sandor in surprise. Your expression made Sandor laugh, prompting you to glare at him. "Don’t laugh. I almost pissed myself. I thought I would be fired for sure. Or you would be.” Sandor pulled you to him again. “Well, that’s not going to happen. I’d make sure of it.” You smiled again. Your smile managed to make Sandor’s heart rate pick up. “I love you,” you whispered before hugging him close to you again. “I love you too.” Sandor began to sway again, rocking ever so gently. Your dinner grew cold and the candles started to flicker, but neither of you cared. You were too busy being wrapped up in one another and your no-longer-secret relationship.

(a/n: I do love some fluffy, domestic Sandor. I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @ghostie-writes @princessofthefandomrealm @littlemisscaptainfandom @etherealpotter @line-viper @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @gruffle1 @smalltownbigheart @igotmadskills​

Sandor Clegane Tags: @songoficecreamandfireworks​

[vanchlo]

Under The Bed / Chapter Two, “Harry”

ABOUT: Josie Stephens was having a hard enough time at her mere age of five, having to start Kindergarten and move to a new house. Little did she know that it all would get a lot worse that first night when a monster popped out from under her bed, changing her life forever. Inspired by the 1989 movie, Little Monsters, one of my childhood favorites, I began this story in 2016 and recently fell back in love with it.

->   SERIES MASTERLIST

->   MAIN MASTERLIST

-> READ ON WATTPAD

WARNINGS: Mild swearing

WORD COUNT: 5.3k words

TAGLIST: IDK HOW TO DO THESE, BUT IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED SO YOU KNOW WHEN A NEW CHAPTER IS POSTED, JUST LET ME KNOW! :)

@berrynarrybanana​

@wotamelonsugar​

SNEAK PEEK OF COURSE ->

"I said, who are you?!"

"Calm down, ya big baby! I came from under yer bed an' I scared ya. Now, what does that big brain ol’ brain of yers tell ya I am?" he replies, and it takes a few seconds before the answer pops into my head.

THEN

It's not the easiest to remember, but when a monster just happens to pop out from under your bed one night, it's not something that you can forget.

The moving trucks were pulling away from the house. Finally. No longer was the front curb crowded by their orangeneness and height. At last, the few big guys walking in and out of the trucks holding all of our stuff were too. I didn't want to move, and I didn't like the new house. It smelled weird and the staircase was like a mountain that I had to climb every day with my short five year old legs. All of my toys were in boxes that were stacked in my room. Nothing but my new big girl bed, a lamp and Mr. Snuggles, the stuffed duck, took up my scary big room that was all mine. But, boy, were there boxes. There were ones labeled in Mom's scribble, 'Josie's clothes,' and ‘Josie's toys' and 'Josie's books.’ Blah blah blah. 

All of this moving business seemed pretty stupid to me. I liked our old backyard better, and that we didn’t have a staircase I had to struggle to climb too many times a day. Lastly, I moved away from Betsy who lived across the street, and Mollie who lived on the corner. I had nobody to play House with or have tea parties with. I think that was the worst part of moving to this stinky, new house. I had to leave my old friends, which meant that I had no friends at all. Maybe Mr. Snuggles was the only one but he couldn't talk, and tea with only two people is boring. I had a new scary bed and bedroom. A new, big house to get used to. Painting the new, cracked sidewalk with chalk didn't sound like fun. 

I had no friends, and I felt so alone.

/

Dad closes my door behind him and Mom, mumbling one last 'sweet dreams' and a kiss before the creaky door closes. The room is cloaked in darkness, making new sounds I don't like and that scare me. The Scooby Doo night light next to my bed is the only light there is, except for the faint streetlight out the left window. Otherwise, it's pitch black, so much so I can't even see my own hand in front of me, and that's when I know it's bad. Lying there under the new, cold, and scratchy sheets, I stare into the dark trying to fall asleep. Mr. Snuggles' fuzzy yellow head is tucked under my chin, and my pink blankey;s clutched to my chest. The sound of cars outside is a small hum through the window, and I can hear the muffled noise of my parents talking downstairs.

It feels like I've been lying here for hours, making me wonder why Mom said that 'I should be out like a light after how tiring today was’ when I just can't fall asleep. But, I don't know, because I didn’t do much else besides sitting on the rickety swing outside. I sat there with Mr. Snuggles watching Mom, Dad, and the moving men bring stuff into the house. Bug Juice after Bug Juice and a mini bag of Oreos was for lunch. 

After a while, I hear the lights flick off and the bar of yellow light under my door turns to black, their work done for the night. My parents' voices get closer as their steps creak on the stairs and disappear down the hall, and then it's quiet. Too quiet. Shutting my eyes, I take a breath as I hold Mr. Snuggles closer and breathe in his familiar scent. But then there's a small click and when I open my eyes, the nightlight is out. Not soon after that, there's a scuffle and my bed lifts on the one side only to fall back down to the floor with a thud.

My heart is thumping in my chest fast and I'm sinking down into my Hello Kitty covers, pulling them over my head as my nervous breaths leave my mouth loudly. I suddenly hear somebody else breathing and the sound of footsteps. Quickly, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die and Mr. Snuggles is going to die with me. No, not Mr. Snuggles. A pair of hands rips the covers down off of my face, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut.

"Are ya serious, ya think bloody bed covers are gonna keep ya safe now?" a thick slow voice says, one that sounds . . weird. It sounds like a boy, an older one than me, and he says his words all weird. "C'mon now, open yer eyes already."

I shake my head, not knowing why I'm doing it but I do. Mom always says I'm stubborn and don't like to do what I'm asked of, whatever that word means. "Oh my god, just open yer eyes," they groan, and I don't know why, but I do. I hear a loud 'boo!' and a pair of hands shake my shoulders, making me scream but a hand comes over my mouth to stop it. A strong musty smell surrounds me. "Bloody hell, ya gotta pair of lungs on you! Keep it down, will ya? Don' wanna wake yer parents an' have 'em come in here. 'd lose me bloody job an' 'd only make yer life mo’ of a living hell if that happened, I swear t’ it," they mutter, voice high with alarm, and ending in a creepy laugh. His tongue makes a weird sound, but I can't see him. I can only hear him. For a second in the dark, I see two hovering green circles above me that don't go anywhere, and then tiny little blue dots appear out of nowhere.

Breathing hard and fast and trying to protect Mr. Snuggles, I open my mouth and bite down hard on what I think is his hand. It tastes gross, and it's cold. He mutters a loud 'ouch!' and then there's creaky steps, his musty smell going away, but only a litte. "I can' believe ya fuckin’ bit me, ya li'l brat!"

"Who are you?" I nearly shout, words feeling weird as my voice shakes.

"Be quiet, will ya? You'll wake yer parents- how many times do I gotta say it?!"

"T-tell me who you are, now!" I bite back, slowly sitting up and hearing sounds from across my dark room. "A-And what did you do with my nightlight?"

"Ya want it so bad, then here, have it," he says, something scuffing against the ground before suddenly it's back in the wall and it's all lit up. "Yer sumthin', arentcha? God, never knew why you goddamn kids liked some stupid dog that talked, anyways. I bloody hate nightlights, they don't really do anythin', do they?"

"I said, who are you?!"

"Calm down, ya big baby! I came from under yer bed an' I scared ya. Now, what does that big brain ol’ brain of yers tell ya I am?" he replies, and it takes a few seconds before the answer pops into my head. I hug Mr. Snuggles tighter to my body and breathe him in, my eyes growing hot and watery.

"Oh my bloody god, dontchu cry. No, no, no, dontchu fuckin’ cry on me," they say really fast, letting out a loud breath at the end. The tears fall down my cheeks long and hot, Mr. Snuggles taking the brunt of them as I hold onto him for dear life. "Please, I hate it when you lot cry, 's bloomin' annoyin’ an' it hurts me ears . . Yer not s’posed t’ do it ‘til afta I leave, ugh. Please stop yer cryin' already, Josie."

I sniffle and lift my head after a second, trying to find him in the dark, whoever he is. But, I still can't see a thing. I think he's across the room towards my closet, but I don't really know. "H-how do you know my name- who are you? Tell me already!"

"Okay, okay. Will ya ever shut that bloody mouth of yers? 'm uh, well 'm a monsta, if ya hadn't figured that out already. Yer a bright little five year old, figured you'd know that by now," they reply, and then there's footsteps. They're getting louder and, so I think, closer.

"How do you know all this stuff about me?"

"That's not even that much, ya brat. I know loads 'bout ya. Know yer birthday, even what time you were born down t' tha second. Know ya hate spiders and frogs, think they're gross 'cuz they're all slimy an' squishy. Know ya jus' moved from yer old house t' this one t’day, an' that ya think tha basement's reaaaaal scary. Also know that yer scared of unda ya bed, as ya should be, an' that tha biggest thing yer scared of 's tha dark," he replies, and even though I can't see it, I know that my jaw is hanging down. Who is this person- well, monster, and why does he know so much about me? How?

"How d-do you know all that, and why do you know it?"

"'s me job t' know that stuff 'bout you, Josie. I only get sum stuff, y’know, tha stuff that matters t' me an' I need t' know. Now, why would I need t' know what yer scared of if 'm a big scary monsta? I bet ya can answer me that one, Josie Posie," he says, and I gulp loudly. Thinking about it for a second, I peek a look over to my door, or in the direction I think it would be in.

"No, no, dontchu even think 'bout screamin' or yer really not gonn' like me, Josie," he warns as I sniffle. I can taste the strawberry chapstick on my lips as they open and I yell the two words.

"Mommy, Daddy!"

"Ugh, ya've really done it now, Jose. I thought ya'd learn yer lesson, but guess not. Thanks a fuckin' lot," the boy mutters quietly. There's a tickle on my ankle before a scuffle, and my bed rises and dips again. 

The lights click on outside my room. I hear fast pitter--patter before my door flies open, and the light turns on. My mom comes in first in her pink bathrobe, pulling it around herself as she rushes over. Dad’s hot on her tail in a Packers shirt and checkered pajama bottoms.

"What is it, sweetie?" Mom hums as she stops in front of me, her face looking sad as her brown hair is all a mess.

"There was a monster in my room! He came from under my bed, and he was all mean and scary!"

They look at each other before pulling me in for a hug, playing with my hair and giving me kisses on the head.

"Honey, you probably just heard something. It's an old house and it makes noises sometimes, but it's nothing to worry about. You're just fine, there's no monsters under your bed because there's no such things as monsters," my dad says, sitting beside me and putting an arm around me.

Mom wipes my tears away and smoothes back my hair as they shush my worries and calm my mind before helping me back under the covers. There's about five 'no's when I ask if I can sleep with them, Dad looking more upset than Mom about it until they leave my bedroom with another 'goodnight' and a 'sweet dreams.’ The room is silent and still, except for the hovering Scooby Doo head lighting up the floor around it next to me. My eyes stay there as the warm blankets hug me. With Mr. Snuggles and blankey close, I shut my eyes and try to get some sleep, like Mom had said.

They fly open when I hear a sound, and I whimper when my bed moves again.

"Ya think yer a smart one, d’ya, Josie? Ya can’t get ridd’a me that fast, love," the boy murmurs, his footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. "They didn't believe ya, did they?"

A small 'no' comes from me as the blankets surround me in a warm cocoon, but I suddenly don't want to be lying here anymore. I want to sit up and see him, but that thought scares the bejeezus out of me the second I think about it.

"Didn' do a lotta good cryin' fer mummy an' daddy, now did it? Maybe ya should think 'bout that tha next time, an' see how good of an idea it seems."

"What do you want?!" I say, my lips bending into a frown as I pull myself up to face my closet, wishing I could see his face. But again, all that's there are the little blue random dots that seem to be in the shape of a rectangles or something, and the bright green dots.

"'m a monsta, love. Already told ya that, what d’ya think I want?"

"Are you really a monster?" I whine in question, feeling like there's a circus happening in my chest.

"Yeah, sure I am."

"You're not telling me a fib?"

"Nope, promise me black li'l monsta heart," they say, and I take a shaky breath as my heart thumps in my ears. Holding Mr. Snuggles as tight as I can, I swipe my tongue across my dry lips and stare into the darkness. The ceiling fan overheard whirs softly, the only sound in the room besides my loud breathing. "'m not tellin' ya a fib, Josie. Promise ya that. How d’ya think I came out from unda yer bed, anyways?"

"How am I supposed to believe you? I don't know you, and I can't even see what you look like when you're talking to me. Danget, I don't even know your name o-or if ya have one!"

"God, yer a feisty li'l one, arentcha, doll? Take a breath, would ya? I dunno, ya don' hafta believe me I s'pose, 's upta you on that one," he replies, and I only grow more confused, heaving a big breath. "Don' get so bent outta shape over it, 'm just yer monsta an' I scare ya. Yer not s'posed t' know me name, 's jus' how it 's, I reckon. Tha's all t' it, really. Now, if I did me job an' yer all scared outta yer socks an' everythin', 'll be off. Got other li'l tots I gott' scare besides yerself, y’know."

"But-," I chance, learning I was two seconds too late. There's a flick of something moving past the space the Scooby lights up, and my bed moves. e's gone. "No fair!" I shout, falling back onto my pillows with a plop. Tugginig my blankets back up, I mutter annoyances to Mr. Snuggles, picturing him replying and agreeing with me.

Then there's that sound again. Like a shoe against carpet, or something like that because Mom never lets me wear my shoes in the house, so I can't be sure. "Sweet dreams, Josie Posie! Oh, and sleep tight! I hope all the beddy bugs bite. 'll see ya later, ya li'l brat!" the squeaky scary voice says again before there's another scruff and I hear him leave, wherever in the world he came from.

Turning over with a whimper, I pull the covers over my head and shut my eyes, trying to think of happy things like sugar plums and fairies. I try to forget about what just happened, and the fact that I have a monster under my bed- my own scary monster.

/

The next day was unpack this and unpack that. Move this and move that. To make it plain and simple, it was boring, it was hot out, and I didn't want to ‘fill up my new bedroom,’ like Mom and Dad kept saying to try and make it sound fun. But it wasn't. Because I couldn't stop thinking about the night before when that thing came out from under my bed. After awhile it just melted down into a bad dream or something I had imagined, because I'm a kid and that's what kids do, right? I must have dreamt it or made it up. 

"It's looking nice so far, isn't it, Josie?" Mom says, looking around at my room staring to well, look like a bedroom. There's my dresser, and my little table for tea parties with my favorite stuffies sitting on the chairs. Clothes are beginning to get hung up in my closet, the bookcase against the wall just needs some books to make it look better and not so sad, and a nice pink rug sits by my door.

"Yeah, I guess," I say sadly, taking a seat on the purple beanbag in the corner, watching Mom turn towards the door when Dad comes in holding another box. He pushes his combed back blonde hair off of his sweaty forehead, wet patches showing under his armpits as he turns to walk away after setting down another box.

"Hmm, I wonder where we should put this," Mom says quietly to herself, holding an old shoebox of something or other. Taking a few steps, she crouches down to push aside my pink Hello Kitty comforter.

"No, don't!" I say, standing up fast and running over to her.

"Why noyt" she replies, looking at me quickly. I glance to the empty space under my bed, now that she's pushed the fabric to the side. When I see nothing but the dark wooden floor, I no longer worry, but now I'm confused. "You don't still think there's a monster under there, do you?"

"No, but maybe a really scary dust bunny," I joke and she smiles before pushing the stray box under there and standing back up to get working on things, because she'll never believe me, anyways. Dad and her didn't the first time, because who would believe me when I tell them there's a monster under my bed? I don't even know if it was real myself.

After a while, we take a break and all sit under the shade of the tall oak tree in the front yard. A pitcher of lemonade and hot dogs with potato chips is for lunch as we sit at our new picnic table. The hot June sun beats down on us as Mom and Dad quietly talk about where to put the couches and which would look better in different spots. I nibble on a crinkly yellow chip, looking around at the new neighborhood. And I wonder if I'll ever get past the cold fear settling in my stomach about this new house.

/

Mom kisses the top of my head, smoothing my hair back with her hand before disappearing into the hallway where Dad talks to somebody on the phone loudly. The door closes with a squeak and I turn over with a huff. I hold Mr. Snuggles and blankey as close as I can before closing my eyes, willing him to not come back. Please, please, please. Please don't come back, please don't come back. I fall asleep mumbling it under my breath, the Scooby light protecting me from the darkness, like Mom said. But I don't know how much I believe that anymore.

/

"Wake up!" a voice shouts, and I jolt awake to find somebody bouncing on my bed. "Bloody hell, get yer arse up already!" they say again, and as I rub my sleepy crusted eyes, I recognize the voice and how the words sound funny. It's the boy again, and he's back. It's the monster.

"I was sleeping."

"I can see that, but ya aren't anymo' so wake up. Did ya know ya snore? 's bloody annoyin', if ya ask me," he mutters, something hard like his leg not far away when I stretch my own out and touch him. They recoil from the cold sensation and I hug them back to my body.

Taking his words carefully, I reach over slowly to find the smooth metal chain and yank it hard to bathe the room in light. A scream leaves my lips when I lay my eyes on him, and as if things are moving in slow motion, I see his yellow tinged eyes with bright green circles roll into the back of his head. Next thing I know, he's practically lying on top of me with his cold gross hand over my mouth. My hurried words leave my mouth in muffled murmurs as his bad breath fans over me.

"Dontcha know how t' keep quiet, ya brat?" he spits, shaking his head of dirty brown curls, making them move and dislodging hair from around the two small yellow horns poking out of his head. One on each side, but that's just the first of it. "Scared ya, did I? Good tha's me job, ya li'l bugger. Now, if I take me hand off yer mouth are ya gonna promise not t' scream? Told ya last night what'll happen if ya do it again."

I nod my head slowly, taking in every part of him. His round head slowly nods too before he removes his hand from my mouth and sits back, letting me get up too. Crossing my legs, my eyes stay glued to him as he turns his head to I guess look around my room. "Looks like a bloody pink pixie threw up all over yer room, 's a bit much, innit?" he says, playing with his bottom lip as he scans my bedroom. A few boxes still sit there waiting to be unpacked, but for the most part my room is all made up. I swallow, and he looks over at me, his eyes going over me. "Ya forgot how t' speak or summat?"

"Y-You're really a monster . . I'm not just imagining it," I whisper, my words going all kinds of places.

"Sure am, Josie Posie. No point in really lyin' 'bout it, now 's there?" he says, breaking eye contact as he stands up. And I find out quickly that he's tall. Another twelfth thing I've learned about him in the last minute.

He waltzes over to the corner of my room where the tea table sits along with a shelf holding pull out baskets with different toys in each. His long pale fingers wrap around one of the handles and tugs on it, picking a red headed Barbie out and making a disgusted sound before stuffing it back in. "Yer such a girl, arentchu?" he complains, his blue tinted skin not bothering to push the basket back in before moving onto my bookshelf, picking up a light blue and purple book. "How ironic 's it that ya have this book, huh?" Turning to me and flashing the cover at me, I see that it's Monsters Inc. I want nothing more than to go back to sleep, I think.

"What does that word mean?" I say nervously, his movements slow and careful as he flips through the book and tosses it onto the floor carelessly, ending right side up on an open page. Looking back to me, his crazy brown eyebrows go up as he looks at me with his bright green eyes. I realize that's what I saw last night glowing in the dark, his neon eyes. "The word starting with an 'I'."

"'ironic'?" he asks, and I nod as he takes his time walking around inspecting my stuff, picking up Beary Jones and petting his soft brown fur. "It uh, I dunno how t' describe it, really. Means that sumthin's funny in a weird way, I guess."

"Whatever," I say, my head falling onto my pillow as I get back under the toasty warm covers.

"Ya can't go back t' bed yet."

"And how come?"

"Cuz, I haven't scared ya all good yet. I can't go yet 'til I have," he replies, running his hand over Beary Jones' ears before pulling at his red overalls. In a blink he rips his head off and white cotton is falling down onto the floor like snow.

"No, not Beary! Why'd you do that?"

"Would ya shutup already, ya nosy li'l brat? 's just a fake stuffed bear, get over it!" he snarls, flinging it onto the red table. Beary's head sits on the floor sadly, getting squished by his grimy black sneakers as he walks back over to me. I shrink into the covers as he approaches. "I scare ya all good yet, Josie Posie?"

I reply with a soft 'no' but as he gets closer I move back, reaching the other side of my bed until I'm almost falling over the edge. His pale face, a shade of light blue, gets closer and closer to mine. The little blue dots like freckles covering his ghostly skin look like little flattened balls of playdoh before they're gone, shouting a 'boo! My back hits the hard floor. A whimper leaves my lips and I hold my achy elbow as tears well in my eyes and my bottom lip quivers, turning away when he walks around the corner with a laugh.

"Go away!" I yell at him, my voice small and weak and the crying isn't helping.

"Yer such a li'l baby, ya know that?" he smiles, crouching down. A holey black t-shirt clings to his sides amongst his muscly arms covered with black pictures and words. Pants the same color and just as old and beat up are on his legs, but they're tighter.

"I said go away, I don't like you!" I repeat, smushing my face into the fuzzy white rug next to me. Hot tears spill from my eyes and wet my hot face. My heart thuds loudly as I sniffle with each sob, no matter how quiet I try to make them. He begins to say something I think, but I stop him, "No! You're mean and I never asked for a monster, I hate this new house and you're making it worse! I hate you I hate you, go away and never come back!"

"Josie," he says softly, whatever his stupid monster name is. "Hey, look at me."

"Why should I?"

"Cuz I said so, now look at me, you li'l shit," he says angrily, and I pull away my sweaty teary face to look up at his. It's blurry, but it's blue and weird and dirty. Reaching his hand out for a reason I don't know, I look between it and his face before opening my mouth and biting his finger.

"You li’l fucker, ow! Why d’ya keep doin' that, ugh?!" he swears. I get up from the floor and dash out of the room and down the hallway. "Yer really gonn' get it now, Josie! Thought you weren't gonna be too bad, but now, I dunno anymo'." I hear lastly as I turn left down the hallway, and I stop in front of Mommy and Daddy's door. I take one last peek down the hall to my bedroom where the light flows out into the dark hall, hiccups leaving my lips as thoughts bubble around inside of my head.

Wiping my tears away, I change my mind and when I step back into my room, I find his dark, dusty figure with his back to me, picking up something off my dresser. He must have heard me because he turns around and looks me in the eyes only for a second, and then his crazy green eyes fall to the Disney snowglobe in his hand. Little balls of snow fall down onto the castle from in the Magical Kingdom.

"Please don't break it, that's my favorite. I got it from Disney at Christmas time," I cry.

"Won't if ya promise not t' bloody bite me again," he shrugs, looking to me for an answer and when I nod he puts it back. He runs the tip of his finger over Tinker Bell's glittery wing, walking over to my bed and pushing the cover back off of the floor.

"Where are you going?"

"Told ya last night I got other kiddies t' scare, an' if 'm bein' honest, 'm quite sick of you fer tha day, so 'm off," he answers, sticking his long legs under my bed. When I take a step closer, I notice that they've disappeared and it's just the tops of his legs and the rest of him still there. But that doesn't make sense, so much of this doesn't. "Breathe, Josie, 's jus'- 'll be back tomorra, try not t' bite anybody else while 'm gone, sound good?"

"O-Okay," I say slowly, playing with the sleeve of my princess nightgown.

"God, you are such a girl, 's bloody terrifyin'," he says, shaking his head. I open my mouth to say something. "Whatd’ ya want now?"

"You never told m-me your name."

"Well tha's for me t' know an' fer you t' never find out, innit now, Josie Posie?" he smiles, winking one of his green eyes at me. I sigh and throw my hands up, feeling the soreness when my elbow moves and I wince, whining a 'that's not fair, you're never fair!'

"Tone it down, will you?! 's jus' a name, dunno why ya wanna know so bad!"

"Well, if you're gonna be scaring me every night, I want to know."

"My goodness, 'm in fer a load of trouble with you, aren't I?" he shakes his head, looking away and to under my bed where it's just brown wood and the beginning of dust bunnies. Rubbing his big, pointy nose, he lets out a loud breath and I see his wacky eyes once more. "Tha name's Harry. Now, I really best be off. Sweet dreams an' ya betta not hope tha bed bugs bite!" 

There's nothing left but a whisper of his words and a whoosh after he slid under my bed, making me wonder ten new things that I don't know what to think of or what the answer could even be.

With a huff, I wander to the door and find the lightswitch. With a last look to the empty space under my bed, I flick the light off and dash to my bed quickly, even though I know there aren't any monsters under my bed to get me. Well, I can't say that anymore, I think, as I bring Mr. Snuggles back into my arms. And I don't know what to think of that really, and how it should make me feel.

But all I know is that I'm kind of looking forward to bedtime now, and getting to see my monster, Harry. He’s kind of . . what’s the word? 

Cute.

[miruka-cioccolata]

“What if a reader accidentally hits one of the La Squadra boys with her car? Instead of calling for a ambulance, she freaks out and puts them in her car and drives home and attempted to care for them?” - asked by @jashin-priestess

Ohh, this was a fun one to write! I’m sorry for the wait, but I made it extra long this time~ thank you for sending in that request! ^^

(Under the cut for length!)

Risotto Nero:

You still don’t know how exactly you managed to do it, but apparently the shock made you develop superhuman abilities, because somehow you placed the huge 2-meter man you accidently ran over into the back of your car and drove back to your home with him.  

While you were preparing some cooling pads for his broken leg and bruises, you suddenly feel an icy shiver running down your spine. Turning around slowly, you almost drop the ice with a loud shriek: The man you had placed onto the floor just a few minutes ago in order to tend to his wounds is now kneeling in front of you with a knife in his hand that he points straight at your throat. His gaze out of red eyes resting inside pitch black sclerae is piercing right through you.

“Tell me. Where am I?”, the silver-haired man asks calmly and yet the underlying threat in his dark voice is undeniable. You swallow down an anxious cry and gather together all your courage to answer: “I…I brought you home since I kinda, uhm…I hit you with my car and I wanted to help you. I think yo…your leg is broken.”

For a moment the man keeps on staring at you, before his crimson eyes wander down to his wounded leg. Apparently, he didn’t even realize that he was injured until now.

Seeing him lowering his knife, you feel a confidence bubbling up inside you again and you finally allow yourself to take a deep, steady breath.

“Sorry for not taking you to a hospital”, you mumble, “but I sorta freaked out when I saw the blood on the tires, and I couldn’t even think clearly anymore so I brought you back to my place. I hope it’s okay…yeah?”

The man’s strange eyes still scare you, but despite his intimidating appearance, you move closer to him in order to have a better look on his injuries. His muscles visibly tense when you approach him, but he holds back with any movements. Apparently, he has concluded that you are of no danger to him, so he lets you take care of his leg with the cooling pads.

Some time afterwards the man even decides to break the ear-crushing silence between you two by saying: “Why are you helping me?”

“I feel really bad about the accident”, you respond in shame, “so I want to take care of your wounds. Really, it’s the least I can do.”

Risotto stares at you a tad longer in taciturnity before giving you a short nod.

“Thank you.”

 Prosciutto:

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god”, you mumble like a mantra under your breath as you try to carry the man you just hit with your car into your living room. Momentarily, you are simply glad that he isn’t that heavy so that it is easy for you to lay him down safely onto your sofa. The blonde groans lowly, eyes shut tight from the pain visibly coursing through his body.

“I am so sorry. I just…I didn’t see you standing there, really, It was so dark and when I noticed you, I hit the brakes too late, and I-“

Your mouth comes to a halt when you receive an angry glare out of blue eyes.

“Why did you bring me to your home then instead of the hospital? Aren’t you afraid of letting a stranger in without even knowing if he is dangerous or not? I could do horrible things to you and you wouldn’t even have the slightest chance to defend yourself! How fucking naïve can you be?”

The man’s words might have been harsh, but there was a concerned undertone in his voice, something akin to the scolding of a teacher. Upon seeing the intimidation present on your face, the blonde lets out a deep sigh.

“Well, it is how it is”, he says with much less vigour than before. “The hospital would have probably been a bad choice anyway. Too risky.”

You look at the stranger, questioningly tilting your head at his remark.

“None of your business.”

He presses his fists into the cushion of the sofa with clenched teeth to get himself into a sitting position, trying to carefully rest his leg onto the pillow you had fetched him earlier from your bedroom. You help him with the whole ordeal the best you possibly can.

During the crushing silence between you two, you finally ask: “So, uhm, your name is…?”

A stern look is thrown your way and you already brace yourself for a chiding retort, but instead he really does answer your question – his name is Prosciutto. How weird.

“Don’t worry, I am going to care for you until you can walk again. It’s the least I can do to make up for the accident”, you say to him while you put some cooling ointment onto his injuries.

Prosciutto opens his mouth to respond, but then closes it again after a moment of overthinking. Surely, he wanted to reprimand you again for your gullibility, however, he decided to let it slide. After all, he really could need some assistance with his wounds for now.

Formaggio:

“Okay so, you are…ouch-!”

“Sorry!”, you say as you dab the cotton drenched in alcohol onto the man’s wound. It would certainly not leave a scar (you think), but nevertheless you need to disinfect it.

“Ngh, never mind, I put up with worse in the past”, the man with the buzzcut says, flashing you a cocky grin, one that quickly melds into a pained grimace when the burning disinfectant meets his bruised skin.

“I gotta say though that I’ve never been the victim of a car accident. There’s a first time for anything, huh?”

You look at him – the man who had introduced himself as Formaggio to you earlier – in shock and you wonder how he is able to laugh at a time like this. Especially since you could have killed him right then and there with your car.

“I am sorry”, you repeat yourself, lowering your head in shame. “I’ll make it up to you, okay? I’ll treat your injuries the best I can, and you can stay here until you feel better. It’s the least I can do.”

Formaggio nods at your words, letting himself fall back into the sofa’s cushion with a yawn.

“Alright then, fine by me! But don’t be too good at your job cuz I could get used to a personal nurse!”, he says with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Illuso:

You tried to be careful – really! – and yet you still handled his ankle too roughly, making the injured man on your couch cry out in pain.

“Fuck, can you be a little more careful perhaps!?”, he snaps at you.

“S-sorry”, you mumble in response, feeling even worse when you notice the man is grinding his teeth in agony from your treatment. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Yeah, there really is something you could do for me…say, do you have a mirror somewhere?”

You blink, confused about his request.

“Uhm, yes, it’s hanging right there-“

Illuso follows the pointing of your finger with his eyes, looking quite content.

“Ah yes, perfect. I mean…could you get me a glass of water?”

Nodding, you move into the kitchen to fetch the man some water, but once you return to the living room, you draw in a sharp breath.

He…he is gone!

Frantically you look around your living room for the slightest trace of the strange man with the dark pigtails, but there is no trace of him, none at all! It’s as if Illuso had only been a…well, an illusion.

Suddenly, you hear a small noise, something akin to a huff of exertion or pain coming from the mirror that hangs on the wall next to the sofa. Huh, how weird. Maybe you had just imagined that sound, your nerves were still playing tricks on you apparently.

 Pesci:

You watch the man on your couch anxiously as he tries to stretch his leg, only for him to let it drop back onto the cushion of your sofa with a yelp.

“Moving hurts too much”, he groans, trying to fight back tears from the seething pain radiating from his injured limb.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t see you there crossing the street and it was too late for the brakes to work”, you try to explain yourself, the guilt of your careless action making you sick to the stomach.

“Why didn’t you get me to a hospital then?”, the man asks, looking up at you with a pang of fear. “What a-are you gonna do with me now?”

“Well, I just kinda freaked out and then took you back to my place. Don’t worry, really, I’m just trying to help you!”, you add quickly when you notice that the man – Pesci was his name, if you recall correctly – eyed you with apparent fear, his hands slightly trembling.

“I’ll make sure to make you feel alright again! It’s my fault after all that you got involved in a car accident after all.”

Pesci gives you an uncertain look, clearly not too sure how to react to your offer. “That is, uhm, nice. I think. Thank you…” 

Melone:

You could almost cry from relief when the stranger on your couch finally opens his eyes. Well, it’s just one eye if you were exact, because his other eye was covered by a translucent mask and a curtain of lilac hair.

“Where am I?”, he asked, his voice still a bit drowsy. You couldn’t blame him for that, after all he had just woken up from an unpleasant encounter with the bumper of your car.

“You are in my house. I brought you here after I, uhm, after I hit you with my car”, you say, the last few words added very, very quietly. The man blinks two, three times, before he tries to sit up, only to sink back into the cushion when he feels the sizzling pain in his leg.

“Ah, I see”, is his only comment to the whole situation.

The man seems to contemplate about something, the gears in his heads working in pregnant silence, before he finally says: “Melone.”

“Huh?”

You stare at the man in confusion. Melone? Was he hungry or something?

“That´s my name. I think you ought to know now that I am already here in the security of your home.”

The man with the lilac hair looks up to you, his turquois eye throwing an attentive gaze at you.

“I presume you are intending to care for me then? Since you didn’t get me to a hospital for medical treatment?”

Well, he had a point! Panic had overtaken you the moment you decided to take the injured man back to your home instead of getting him proper treatment. So, you simply nod as response to his question.

“Di molto!”

Melone’s mouth curves upwards into a sly smile and suddenly you feel like taking this stranger into your home wasn’t a very good idea.

“You know what, I think I prefer your treatment over the hospital. You are the cutest nurse I have ever had the pleasure to meet!”

Ghiaccio:

“Why didn’t you get me to a fucking hospital? You hit me with your goddamn car!”

The loud voice of the man currently perched on your sofa makes you wince. Apparently, he isn’t all too familiar with the concept of ‘indoor voice’.

“I’m…I’m sorry, everything was just a bit much for me and you ran across the street without looking and I couldn’t stop the car in time and I panicked and then I-“

“Listen, I don’t need you telling me in detail how you fucking RAN ME OVER! It just happened an hour ago and I remember”, the blue haired man tried to sit up, but recoiled in pain when he tried moving his broken foot, “I fucking remember it well…”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry”, you blurt out again for what feels like the hundredth time. In a fit of panic, you had tried to tend to the stranger’s wounds by yourself – a terrible idea in retrospective.

The snarling man on your sofa had grudgingly introduced himself as Ghiaccio and you truly couldn’t be mad at his foul mood, considering that you were the reason for his current predicament.

However, the prospect of you taking care of him until he could properly walk again was at first met with an iron resistance (and a plethora of excessive cursing), after a while Ghiaccio seemed to accept that he didn’t really have much of a choice anyway.

“Trust me, I will treat you well!”, you assure him.

His response hits you like a frosty blizzard: “I hope for your sake that you fucking will or else you’re gonna regret it.”

[could-have-beens]

Tradition (Chapter 1)

I’m just gonna go and shamelessly tag this as part of the @hansannafortheholidays event even though it’s really, really late. Written for Day 10: Mistletoe.

Also posted on ff.net and ao3. Please tell me what you guys think and I hope you like it!

---

Hans keeps finding himself caught under the mistletoe. Somehow, it’s always Anna’s fault.

Or, alternatively, seven kisses Hans and Anna share under the mistletoe. Childhood friends AU.

---

i.

To think, just a few weeks ago, Hans had been so excited when he had learned of his betrothal. The last of his thirteen brothers, he had been resigned to waiting for each of his older siblings to be paired off with wives before even hoping for a match of his own. And he would have waited a long time, if his brother Lars hadn't intervened.

Only Lars would give more than a passing glance at the small kingdom of Arendelle, and only he would see the opportunity in its two young and eligible princesses. Only Lars would care about his youngest brother enough to make him a match, and only Lars would have the charisma and wits to pull it off.

And what a match it was. A crown princess. A future queen.

No one but Lars, Hans' sole ally in his entire family, would have thought of it. Not even their father would have cared enough to think of Hans' future. If it were up to him, Hans would have never been paired with anyone, even if everyone else had already been married off. Or, worse, he would have been sent to the Brotherhood of Isles, forced to take a vow of silence.

But no. Thanks to Lars, that wasn't his fate anymore, and at eleven years old, Hans was already on his way to a brighter, better future than any of his brothers could ever hope to achieve. The trip to Arendelle was just icing on the cake, and Hans had been thrilled to spend the winter season away from his family.

If only Anna wasn't in the picture.

Anna, the second and youngest princess of Arendelle. A spare, just like him.

His eagerness to spend the holidays in his future home, to meet his future in-laws, to get to know his future wife, had been dampened thanks to her. Unlike Elsa — who was quiet and reserved, who was poised and graceful, whom Hans had barely even seen since his arrival in Arendelle — Anna was a tornado with pigtails. She ran around the palace without care, always with reckless abandon, always with a grin, and always with something to say.

She was just so talky. And annoying. And wouldn't leave him alone. Everywhere he went, she was always one step behind, yammering in his ear about some story or another. There was no avoiding her — and boy, did he try — and Hans had no choice but to grin and bear it. Especially, as Lars liked to laughingly remind him, if Hans wanted to get in the King and Queen's good graces.

So here he was, acting like the princess' glorified keeper, as Anna pouted and knocked incessantly at her sister's door.

"Elsa!" Anna was saying, and the sound of her relentless knocking made his head pound. "Do you want to build a snowman? We could do it with Hans! I bet Hans wants to build a snowman with us. Don't you, Hans?"

She turned to him expectantly, and Hans gave her a strained smile. "Sure," he said through gritted teeth. "I'd love nothing more."

The sarcasm was lost on her, and she beamed at him before turning back to the door, knocking again. "You hear that, Elsa? Hans wants to play with us! Elsa? Elsa, I know you're in there! Elsaaaaaaa."

Not for the first time that day, Hans bit back a sigh. Elsa was probably trying to enjoy the silence — the sweet, blissful, blessed silence — before coming out to deal with her little sister. Maybe with Elsa with them, Anna would be easier to deal with, and Hans could have an actual conversation with his betrothed.

But the longer he and Anna stood there, waiting, the more it became clear that Elsa had no intention of opening her door. Hans watched as Anna's large grin faltered with each passing second.

In spite of himself, he couldn't help but frown. Since he arrived, he had only seen Elsa a handful of times, mostly during meals where her presence was required. Even then, she hardly said a word, speaking only when spoken to, each reply short but polite. Hans supposed she must be shy around strangers, and he could understand her need to keep to herself, but was it really necessary to lock herself in her room like this? To hide herself away?

Hans knew all about hiding, after all. He just couldn't understand why Elsa would need to. Anna, as draining and irritating as she was, was nothing like his brothers. The King and Queen of Arendelle were nothing like his parents. So why was Elsa not opening her door? Why wasn't she answering at all?

Anna seemed to have given up on Elsa replying. Her shoulders had visibly drooped, and her bright eyes had dimmed as she cast her gaze downward.

"Oh, well," she said hesitantly. "You're probably busy with — uh — the usual stuff, I guess. Maybe next time?"

There was no answer, but Anna didn't wait for one before dropping on her knees and elbows, peeking through the crack under the door.

"Anna," Hans began, "what are you —"

She slipped the drawing — the one she had been so proud of, the one she made while she insisted he tell her about every single detail of his castle in the Southern Isles, about what each of his brothers looked like, about his entire voyage to Arendelle — under the door and got back to her feet, grabbed his hand, then tugged him away like a ragdoll.

"C'mon!" she said excitedly, beaming again. "Let's go to the library! It's got load and loads of books and Papa said they're from all around the world — isn't that awesome? I bet you've got a library in the Southern Isles too, huh? I bet you've —"

"Wait," he interrupted, mind reeling. "That drawing. Your drawing. You gave it to Elsa."

She nodded, not pausing in her steps. "I did! You think she'd like it?"

"Why?"

"Why would she like it?"

Again, Hans wanted to sigh. "I mean, why did you give it to her?"

"Oh. That." She took a deep breath, then, without pausing, went on, "Well, I dunno, I just thought she'd like to see what the Southern Isles looked like, 'cuz, you know, she didn't get to hear any of your stories at all, 'cuz she left so quickly after dinner and everything. And I bet she really wanted to hear 'em too, because she's in her room all day and she never gets to hear the best stories. I bet she's really bored, staying in bed all the time, and I bet she really wanted to hear all about your castles and your ships and your horses and stuff, but she didn't 'cuz — I dunno, 'cuz she's Elsa like that — anyway. I didn't want her to miss out on all the fun, so I made her those drawings so she gets to see 'em even if she wasn't there!"

It took Hans a moment to make sense of her rambling, but when he did, all he could say was, "You've never seen them either."

"Yeah, but I've got you to tell me all the stories! Elsa doesn't have a storyteller like you so maybe we can make her drawings instead. Like in the storybooks." Anna brightened, and he could almost imagine a candle over her head, lighting up with an idea. "Oh, oh, oh! We should make her a storybook, all about your adventures! I bet she'll like that. Do you think she'll like that?"

Hans fell quiet, feeling something stir in his chest at her words. He couldn't imagine any of his brothers doing something like what Anna did and wanted to do for Elsa. If it were his family, they wouldn't even notice his absence, or would have thought of him at all, let alone care enough to make handmade presents and slip it under his door. Sure, there was Lars, and Hans was definitely grateful he wasn't like the rest of his brothers, but Lars wasn't exactly the affectionate, sentimental sort, and he was always too caught up in his books and research to think of much else.

"Yes, I think she will," Hans said after a while.

Anna squealed. "We should get started! I've got all my crayons and pencils and everything and — oh! We should do it in the library! Elsa never goes to the library — well, she never goes anywhere really — but I don't think I've ever seen her in the library. It's the perfect place — I bet she'll be so surprised —"

She went on and on, talking a mile a minute. Hans let himself be dragged along, half-listening, but he couldn't help but smile and nod as he followed. The princess was annoying, certainly, but she was harmless and easily amused. He supposed there were worse ways to spend the holidays than acting like her royal babysitter.

I won't be bored, at least, he thought.

Anna stopped abruptly when they reached the library. Hans had already passed by the doorway, but Anna was staring at the decorations overhead, gasping, an awed look on her face.

"Mistletoe," she whispered, sounding almost reverent.

Sure enough, there it was, hanging above her, almost hidden behind all the other holiday ornaments. Squinting, Hans could see the mistletoe was still full of berries, and they seemed to gleam, almost tauntingly, amid the glittering decorations.

Hans grimaced. "C'mon, Anna," he said. "I thought you wanted to get started on your storybook —"

"Not before we kiss!"

He sighed. "We don't have to, Anna. It's just a plant."

She looked up at him with a horrified gasp, looking so appalled like he'd just done something terribly unforgivable. Like kicked a puppy or destroyed her snowman, or whatever it was that could be considered unforgivable for six-year-olds. "But it's tradition," she said, reproachful.

Hans resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Technically, he could probably just carry her over his shoulder, bring her inside the library, and be done with it, but no doubt Anna would throw a fuss and start kicking and screaming. It wouldn't be worth it.

So, resigned to the lesser evil, he stifled another sigh and bent down to press a soft kiss on her forehead. When he straightened and stepped back, Anna was gaping at him, with wide eyes and pink cheeks, before the stunned look quickly melted into a glare.

"You missed!" she whined. "That's not a real kiss!"

Hans could feel the beginnings of a smile curling at the corner of his lips, but he smothered it with a smirk. "Of course it is."

"Nu-uh!"

"And how do you know what a real kiss is supposed to be like?"

Anna lowered her voice, glancing about her furtively like she was about to tell a secret. "It's s'pposed to go on the lips, over here," she whispered, pointing to her lips for good measure, as if he needed the reminder. "Like Mama and Papa do. Like in the fairytales."

"Fairytales aren't real, Anna."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Shows what you know! 'Course they are!"

This time he didn't bother to hide his annoyance as he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I still say it's a real kiss. The mistletoe tradition never said the kiss had to be on the lips."

She wasn't convinced. "How'd you know?"

"I read it. In a book."

"What book?"

"From the library."

Her brows furrowed, and she looked like she was in deep concentration, as though she was debating with herself, trying to fit what she knew with this new information. Then she nodded, self-assured and seemingly satisfied. "Okay, I guess," she said, a bit reluctantly. "But next time you have to give me a real kiss — not a stupid one on the forehead! A kiss like True Love."

"Like in the fairytales?"

"Exactly!"

"You're a bit young for True Love's kiss, aren't you?"

Anna tsked impatiently, grabbing his hand and tugging him inside the library. He was beginning to get used to it. "Then do it when I'm bigger, duh. You have to promise."

Hans wanted to laugh, but she was glaring at him so fiercely, so intensely, that he knew nothing less than an affirmative would sway her.

"Okay," he said, smiling. "I promise."

ii.

Kai had been with the royal family long enough to remember the days when the princesses were as thick as thieves, practically attached at hip. Back then, it was almost impossible to see one princess without the other trailing just a few steps behind.

But when the King and Queen decided to place the princesses in separate rooms, when they decided to close the gates, it was like the whole castle had changed overnight. Gone were the joyous, childish screams and giggling, and what were once two sets of footsteps, running to and fro the hallways, had turned to one. It made the palace seem too big, too empty, too cold, and the day Princess Elsa decided to spend her waking hours in the confines of her room, was the day Kai felt as though a light had been snuffed out in the kingdom, leaving only dimmed smiles and shrouding not just the royal family, but everyone else within the castle, in lonely shadows.

Now, Kai had some rather unfavorable opinions about certain practices that were common among the nobility. It wasn't his place to question Their Majesties, of course, but he certainly hadn't approved when he had learned of the engagement between Princess Elsa and a prince of the Southern Isles. Politics-wise, Kai agreed it was a good match, but for heaven's sake, they were only children.

Still, he remembered how Princess Anna's face lit up when she had first learned that Prince Hans was to spend the winters in Arendelle, and how Princess Elsa would wander more and more outside of her room as the prince's annual visits went on. Kai had to admit that some good had come out of the arrangement, as Her Highnesses had ended up with a playmate and a friend — or, in Princess Elsa's case, someone who was on his way to becoming one, if nothing else. Though she still insisted on staying in her room, she would come out to engage in small talk with him, and Kai had noticed that the prince was the only person she would approach and talk to at royal functions, on the rare times that she did initiate conversations.

Which was Kai felt a bit miffed on the princess' behalf, when he caught sight of Prince Hans slipping away from the ball, carrying a platter of what looked suspiciously like krumkakes. From what Kai could tell, no one but himself and the princess had noticed the prince's absence, and he saw her looking around the room, searching the crowd from her place on the dais.

Why, the nerve of him! Kai thought, affronted. Leaving the princess alone . . . why I never!

Once Kai was certain his presence was no longer needed, he too left the ballroom in search of the wayward prince. The boy needed a stern talking to. He was seventeen now, almost of age, and the ball was supposed to be held in his and his brother's honor — surely he had to know better by now, surely he was aware of how rude it was, to leave the party just like that.

It didn't take long to find the prince in the gardens, but what surprised Kai was that he wasn't alone.

"The whole thing?"

"Yeah, the whole thing! You got it."

Kai felt his eyebrows rise to his hairline at the sound of Princess Anna's voice. Peeking behind the hedges, he found the two royals, giggling over a platter of krumkakes. Prince Hans was without his coat, and it was instead draped over the princess' shoulders, big enough to hide the nightgown she wore underneath.

Kai stepped back in the shadows to give them a bit of privacy, remembering then that it wasn't just Elsa who sought the prince's company during his visits. He recalled how fond of the prince Princess Anna was, always so delighted when he visited and despondent when he left. Kai remembered too how she had moped for weeks when the King and Queen informed her she was too young to attend the welcome ball.

Oh well. . . .

Kai could give them a few moments to catch up, he supposed, before he revealed himself. It wasn't as though the prince's presence was that pressing of a matter, surely. . . .

"So what's it like?" the princess was saying.

"The ball?"

"Duh."

"All right, I suppose. A bit boring."

"Boring?" she echoed, sounding aghast to hear such a thing. "How can it be boring? I mean there's dancing and all those people and there's so much chocolate and food —"

The prince laughed. "It really is, Anna. There's hardly any people my age to dance with, and everyone else is busy talking about trade routes and politics."

"But Elsa's there." There was a pause, and the hesitation in her tone was clear when she continued, "Was she — was she having fun?"

"I don't think she was. She didn't even dance."

"Not even once?"

"Well, one dance. With me. It . . . could've been better."

The princess giggled. "Aww, how romantic."

"It wasn't," the prince said, sighing. "She kept stepping on my toes."

"Elsa? She would never!"

"You don't believe me?"

"You've seen her! She's so . . . graceful and perfect. I don't think she's even physically capable of being bad at anything."

"Clearly, you've never seen her dance."

Another pause, longer than the first, and Kai was just about to step forward to see what was wrong, when the prince spoke again.

"Anna?" he said worriedly.

"Nothing," and Kai could hear the sadness in her voice. "It's just — you're right. I've never seen her dance. She — uh — she never wanted to practice. With me, I mean."

"Oh." Prince Hans cleared his throat. Sounding rather awkward, he went on, "None of my brothers did either. I suppose . . . it's not completely outside the realm of possibility that I . . . may have tripped a couple of times myself."

This made the princess laugh again. "I knew it!" she crowed. "And . . . outside the realm of possibility? Sheesh, Hans, do you always have to be so formal and proper?"

"Someone has to."

"Hey, I can be formal and proper!"

"Sure, Anna."

"Oh, just you wait, when I'm old enough to attend those stupid balls, I'll — I'll be so proper and sophisticated and graceful that you won't even recognize me, and the look on your face will be so —"

The princess stopped so suddenly that Kai couldn't resist sneaking another glance from his hiding place. Prince Hans had placed a chaste peck on her forehead, and was now pulling back to pluck a berry off the mistletoe hanging in the archway.

"Oh," Princess Anna said, turning as red as her hair.

The prince merely chuckled. "Tradition, remember?" he said lightly. "At least it got you to shut up."

She gaped at him. "Why you —"

Kai took that as his cue. He cleared his throat, stepping away from the shadows. "Your Highnesses," he said, bowing.

"Kai!" the princess exclaimed, delighted to see him. And then her face fell, realizing why he was here, and she said, much more dismally, "Kai."

"Now, my lady," he said reproachfully. "I believe it is time I escort you back to your chambers."

"But Kai," she said in whining tones, eyes large and imploring in the way Kai knew well.

"It is past your bedtime, Your Highness."

Next to her, Prince Hans snickered, and she shot him a glare, hitting him on the shoulder hard enough that Kai caught him wincing. Kai turned his attention to the prince then, who gave him an easy, charming smile.

"I take it no one has noticed my absence?" he said, sounding certain.

"I believe the princess has, Your Highness." The prince looked stunned by this. Trying to inject a hint of humor in his tone, Kai added, "That, and the absence of a certain platter of dessert."

"Ah," was all Prince Hans said, his cheeks slightly tinged pink.

It was the princess' turn to snicker, which turned Kai's attention back to her. She made a face, giving a most unladylike groan.

"I know, I know," she grumbled under her breath. "Back to my rooms."

"Indeed." Kai nodded reprovingly. Turning to the prince, he said, "I trust you know the way back to the ballroom, Your Highness?"

"Yes, thank you, Kai," Prince Hans said somberly, looking contrite and properly chided.

And if Kai caught the prince slipping one last krumkake in the princess' hand as she was led away — well, he supposed he could turn a blind eye, just this once.

[wndamaximov]

Of Love and Secrets

Part 1: Meet Cute

Series Masterlist

Summary: While y/n was initially stuck in the book store because of the rain, she stayed longer for the handsome stranger that kept her company. But this handsome stranger has a secret- one he’d rather not let see the light of day.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Death(briefly mentioned), Absentee Parent(briefly mentioned

Words: 1, 425

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

A/n: Thank you so much to the amazing @theadventurousqueen and Pinterest for the idea!

As always, feel free to come into my inbox and talk to me about my writing, or anything at all really

Y/n stepped in, letting the comforting smell of coffee and books wash over her and take her through the threshold of her favorite place.

She gasped in wonder at seemingly endless shelves of books. It looked much bigger than the last time she’d been here- which was years ago. She just never had the time anymore. 

Just then, she was pulled back into reality by a friendly-looking man. He was tall, with long, brown hair that was pulled back into a bun. He had no name tag, unlike the rest of the employees. Y/n thought that he must be the owner.

“Hello! My name’s Bucky. If you need any help finding anything, I’m within shouting distance.” He smiled warmly, and y/n returned the gesture in kind.

“Thank you. This place is a lot bigger than the last time I came here,” she voiced out loud.

“I bought this place two years ago, and decided to expand it to make room for a café in the back.” 

“Coffee and books- my two favorite things in one place.” Bucky laughed.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to your browsing then?”

She nodded, then walked into one of the aisles, running her fingers along the spines of the books. It really had been a while since she last came here. She missed everything about the place. Although bigger, the atmosphere was the same, and it still felt like home to y/n.

Almost immediately, she zeroed in on one of her all-time favorite books- The Great Gatsby. She picked the book up and opened it to the very first page, immediately sucked into the world of Nick, Gatsby, and the Buchanans.

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” The voice came from behind y/n. She whirled around, her nose nearly touching the chest of a man dressed in a striped white shirt and khakis. He was just a little taller than Bucky, but had much shorter, blonde hair. To be honest, he looked a little bit like Captain America.

“That’s my favorite quote. From the book, I mean.”

“Mine too,” he agreed. After a long, awkward pause where y/n stared at the guy’s shoulder, trying to avoid looking at his face(well, in her defense, it would hurt her neck to look up any higher) he asked, “What other books do you like?”

She started fidgeting with the ring on her finger. Her quota of normal social interaction had been filled by the time she was done talking with Bucky. 

“Anything by Jane Austen. And Rick Riordan.”

“Rick Riordan?” he said incredulously.

“Don’t judge! I know his books are more for… middle schoolers, but they’re amazing, okay?” she defended.

He threw his hands up in surrender and laughed. “Anyway, I shouldn’t judge.” His tone turned a little sadder while he said that. “I’ll leave you to your shopping.” Y/n stared at the retrieving figure of the man, unsure of what to think of the encounter.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n had spent a couple of hours at the bookstore, carefully selecting around five novels, until she was finally ready to check out. By that time, it was nearing 7 o’clock.

She placed the books next to the register. Bucky, standing behind the counter, exclaimed, “Only five books? You spent hours here, picking out only five books?”

She blushed, and sensing her discomfort, Bucky said, “It’s alright doll- I was only joking.”

“I knew that.” They both laughed as he rang up her total.

“Alright have a nice day!” Bucky winked at her, and she turned around from the counter, walking towards the exit. 

Once she reached the glass door, she could see millions of drops of water falling from the sky to the ground. To y/n’s horror, it was raining, and to make matters worse, she’d walked all the way here.

Guess it couldn’t hurt to stay a little while longer. She started walking towards the back into the store, hoping to wait out the rain.

“Back so soon?” Bucky called out to her.

“It started raining, and I can’t risk getting my brand new books wet.”

He nodded. “Wise. You’re more than welcome to sit in the back, maybe get a cup of coffee.”

“Thank you, I’ll do that.”

Y/n quickly ordered a black coffee, found a booth, and opened up the first page of one of her newly acquired books.

“There is a tradition in our kingdom, one all castes of demon and human follow…”

“Waiting out the rain?” It was the guy from earlier. “Mind if I join?” 

Y/n moved her bag off of the table to give him more room to sit.

“I’m Steve, by the way.”

“My name’s y/n,” she responded.

He nodded at the book in her hands. “I can tell you’re a fan of the Y/A genre.”

“Yeah… I think it’s cuz Y/A authors don’t use as many pretentious words. Plus, I like feeling like a kid again.”

“Miss the glory days?”

“They weren’t exactly glorious, but they were a hell of a lot more simple.”

“I can relate. Didn’t have to pay taxes back then- it was the dream.” Y/n laughed.

“That, and I didn’t know how stressful having a job would be. If I could, I’d go back, maybe choose a different line of work,” she added.

“What do you do now?”

Y/n took a small sip of her coffee, then answered. “I’m the public relations executive at Stark Industries. It’s a good job, but it’s stressful and I rarely get a day off.”

Immediately after she said that, Steve asked, “You work with Tony Stark?” It seemed that the name Stark made him uncomfortable.

“No, but he is one of my best friends. Pepper, his wife, runs the company. What about you?” She leaned in closer over the table then continued. “What helps you pay the bills?”

“Nothing actually.” Whereas she’d gotten closer, he put his back on the bench. “I used to be in the army, but now… I’m in between jobs,” he elaborated.

“Army man,” she smirked and wiggled her eyebrows, making them both giggle.

“Anyways… what’s your favorite color?”

The conversation quickly turned into one of those talks- you know, the kind that goes on forever. After a while, the barista at the counter left, and Bucky came by to tell them that they could stay, as long as Steve locked up when they left. It was 8 o’clock- closing time.

“Are you two… friends?”

“Yeah. Buck’s my best friend- since childhood, actually.” That explained why he was letting them stay after hours.

“Lucky,” y/n said, wishing she’d known someone that long- other than her family, of course. Then, she continued asking Steve questions.

“What’s your most irrational fear?” y/n asked.

“Birds.”

“No way!”

“Yep. It’s those eyes…” he shuddered. “You?”

And on, and on, and on it went. They even touched deeper topics, like y/n’s mom leaving when she was four and Steve losing a friend in Iraq. This continued until y/n’s phone buzzed. It was from work- she needed to write something to give to the press about the September Foundation.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” she muttered.

“Language.”

“Did you just-” Y/n laughed as Steve turned bright red.

“I know, it just slipped out. You have to leave?”

“Unfortunately, I do,” y/n threw her coffee cup away and started to pack up her stuff. “See? No days off for me.”

“Walk you to the door?”

“Yes please.”

They walked in silence until they were a couple feet from the exit.

Steve stopped them and started fidgeting with his hands. “I was wondering… if you’d like to go out with me sometime?”

She nodded, then held a hand out for his phone. “Let me punch in my number.” 

“Until later then.”

“Until later,” she echoed as he raised a hand in farewell. Until later.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

[Steve’s POV]

Once he saw y/n take a turn around the corner, the smile on his face immediately dropped. He had to call Bucky.

He picked up on the first ring. “How was your date, Tiger?”

“Great, but Buck, she’s friends with Tony Stark.”

Bucky’s tone became serious. “I hope you aren’t gonna meet again-”

“Yeah, we are.”

“And if she finds out what you did?”

“She won’t.” He hung up. For his sake and hers, he hoped to God the truth would never come out.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

next >>

Send me an ask if you want to be tagged in this series!

Angels: @rebelwriter95 @jll72-blog

Of Love and Secrets: @theadventurousqueen @marvelgirl7 @little-ash-unicorn @diamonddia-mond @questionable-brimborion

[sevi007]

Gifted to @rex101111 and @fuckoland, for always listening to my ideas and giving me that last little push of confidence I so often need when writing. Thank you both so much. =D

Spoilers for DMC 5

Summary: Finding a way back to himself, back to his brother, and out of Hell - Vergil learns that those had been the easier parts of his new journey. Because redemption is not simply offered on a silver plate, and bonds take time to forge. But Nero might just be worth all of that.

Warnings: Uh, swearing, cause it’s Nero, and probbaly a bit OOC-ness on Vergil’s side (first time writing him, and he’s a difficult fella, I tell you)

Word Count: 7227

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Fortuna.

Of all the places he had been to in his life, this city was not one he had expected to return to one day, with his business here finished and other goals to be chased.

Ah, but you didn’t think you would return to anything, a tiny voice in his mind mocked, sounding suspiciously like the croak of a bird. Didn’t think you would come back from this last fight, did’cha, boy?

Vergil scowled into the sky before him, banning the voice – memory, ghost, whatever it was – back into his subconsciousness. No more of this. I woke up from you.

Part of him expected a reply still. Waited for the flutter of wings, the pressure of claws on his shoulder, mocking and taunting in his ear. It didn’t come. Of course it didn’t, he told himself sternly, that part of him was gone, chased away like dark dreams in the morning sun.

 The only noise left behind was the avid chatter and laughter drifting up from the garden stretched down below. People talking over each other, laughing together. The sound of cutlery being set on tables, glasses clinking and chairs and tables being pushed together to make room for everyone, interspersed with easy chats.

Below him, life continued on, as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn’t all been in danger of being wiped of this earth mere months ago.

Easy companionship. High spirits. Celebrating their return from Hell, had been said, but he had the hunch that these people did not really need a reason to sit together and celebrate, if they felt like it.

 Nero had seemed at ease in the middle of things. Not as open and enthusiastic about it as the girl (Kyrie, Vergil recalled, the name not easily forgotten due to her very resolute reception of him upon his return). But still, the young man had easily greeted the various people who had showed up, accepting hugs and pats readily, striking up conversations freely.

It shouldn't have been a surprise. The boy considered these people friends, most of them family, even.

Vergil, on the other hand, must have counted for neither of those options.

 He had left (not fled, never fled, he told himself) the scene at the earliest chance, when not too many people had been looking. Had chosen the highest point of the house’s roof as his refuge, to watch attentively and think.

Bright blue eyes had followed him, he knew, had all but burned into his back, but he had ignored it. If his brother wanted something from him, he would find him. Not even the deepest depths of hell or the highest point of a cursed tree had stopped his brother before. A roof would be a joke in comparison.

 A deep voice started a sing-song right behind him, words full of mockery and taunt, “Vergil, Vergil, sitting on a roof, K-I-S-S-I-…”

Speak of the devil.

“If you keep that up,” Vergil warned without even turning around. “I will stab you. Again.”

“Aaaah,” Dante nodded wisely while he dropped beside his brother, legs dangling dangerously over the edge for the blink of an eye until he shifted and settled. Sprawled out leisurely, he flapped a hand at the other. “Still pissed cuz I one-upped you, I see.”

“Your counting is getting worse. I am currently leading.”

“Pfffft, sure, bro, sure.”

 A fall from the roof, Vergil reflected, would sadly not do his twin any harm, even if he put all his strength into giving him a much needed push.

“Did you want something, Dante?”

Dante hummed non-committally, lounging so close to the edge it was a miracle gravity didn’t take hold of him yet. He didn’t start talking – which, probably, was the most ironic thing the more talkative of the two could have done.

Finally, Vergil’s finger already twitching as he went over the idea with the push again, Dante spoke up. “You know, I would have figured you would at least try before running again.”

Pretense would not work, not on him, but Vergil tried, anyway, eyes closing as he summoned whatever calmness he still had left. “No one is running from anything, dear brother.”

“Dear brother. You only call me that when you’re seriously out of it. And you don’t even mean it.”

“I do wonder why that is.”

“So, you’re running,” Dante ignored the comment which dripped with sarcasm, going in for the kill instead, “Because how I see it is - you’re up here, and the kid is down there, so do tell me how you guys are gonna talk this out?”

 Of course. Vergil closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly, the prospect of a trusty nightmare at his side was more enticing than having his twin here instead. Then again, there was not much difference between the two. “What should we talk out, in your opinion?”

“Hm, let me think about that…,” Dante drawled. “Right. Perhaps that he’s your son? Happy Father’s Day, by the way. I think you missed a few of those in the last years.”

“You are simply stating a fact. There is nothing to discuss about it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Vergil, I thought we talked about this - at least give the kid a chance to get to know you, you stubborn asshole.”

Avoiding the other’s gaze when he could all but taste the disappointment in his words was no longer possible, and Vergil glanced over, feeling horribly tired. “I am not who he remembers.”

“Well, yeah,” Dante stared back at him, slightly askance, fully exasperated. “Not much he could remember, with you being phenomenally absent for… eh. All his life?”

The urge to snap And whose fault is that? was there, clawing at his insides like a living beast. Vergil swallowed it down, forced himself to think No.

 He had been the one too blind, not Dante. He had been the one to jump head first, without thinking of what exactly he was possibly leaving behind.

It had taken him breaking apart to put together what mistakes he had made. He would not forget again.

 One breath, two, three, and the urge subsided. He was getting better at ignoring that old, bitter part of himself which tried to convince him everything was his twin’s fault. A reflex honed over years, and not easily unlearned now. He fought to banish it, dispatching it every day a bit more, with each interaction with his… his family.

Family.

That particular word would take some time to get used to.

 Dante was still watching him, expectant and accusing at the same time, he knew, yet Vergil didn’t meet his gaze. There was nothing he could say in his defense, and the only explanation for his statement was one Dante wouldn’t understand.

He didn’t even understand it fully, himself. He only knew that there was… something. Something which was his, but not quite. Memories in his mind, fuzzy things, like a nice dream he once had and now couldn’t recall clearly. A part of him that remembered a helping hand, a shoulder offered to lean on, a now-familiar becoming voice reminding him to rest, to take it easy. Remembered the relief that came with it, with having someone to count on, to trust.

There was a man who remembered Nero as something more than a stranger.

 (- “V you gotta rest” - )

 (- “I guess I owe you one.” -)

 (- the tool, the last hope, the boy, Nero, Nero-)

 (Why had his first thought upon reassembling the halves of his very being been to thank this boy, someone who had been a stranger to him then? It had been there, the words right on the tip of his tongue, stronger than the old urge to win and proof himself right. His heart had beat and beat and beat, each thrum a whisper of You remember him, you do, you do…)

 But he wasn’t that man anymore. He didn’t remember. Not really. Not himself.

Tche, and not gonna do anything about that, are ya?

This time, his hand nearly twitched upwards to shove someone off his shoulder – before he noticed there was nothing to shove at. No feathers nor claws, no sharp beak pecking him for trying.

Deliberately, he lowered his hand again, balling it into a fist to keep it where it was.

 If Dante had noted his sudden movement, he did not to comment on it. Instead the younger rolled around with a grunt, away from the edge, and stood in a way that somehow managed to be casual yet graceful. Stretching with a loud yawn, Dante squinted into the setting sun for a moment – only to turn and kick his brother in the lower back. Hard. “That’s for being an obstinate asshole.”

Vergil grunted, glared, but didn’t so much as budge or fight back. “Obstinate. I’m surprised you even know what that means.”

The grin Dante sent him back was more teeth than anything else, eyes a hard glint to them. “Good thing the kid is better in this whole family department than we both are, jackass. He isn’t going to let you off the hook that easily.”

 It took Vergil a second to make the connection, and once he did, he nearly cursed out loud, out of character as it was. Head swiveling around, he did indeed catch sight of the young man standing at a distance, balanced on top of the roof as if gravity didn’t concern him, hands shoved into his pockets and watching the twins with a slight frown.

Nero noticed his gaze and lifted a hand in greeting after an awkward, fidgety pause. He stood ramrod straight, shoulders tense and clearly uncomfortable – but also like someone on a mission, not ready to back down a single step, jaw set and head held high.  

 Vergil hadn’t felt him coming, much less heard, too caught up in the presence of his twin… which probably had been the plan all along.

Much to his displeasure, Dante proved to be immune to his death glare, shrugging at him. “Told you. Not off the hook.”

“You just can’t mind your own business, can you.”

“You knew that already,” and then, all casualness was gone. Dante moved with the speed of a striking demon, too fast for the human eye, and all of sudden he was there, right in Vergil’s space, hand on his twin’s shoulder like a vice, forehead to forehead, blue boring into blue. “Listen up here, Vergil – no idea what’s going on in that head of yours, but Nero is not me. He is not you. I learned that the hard way, and you will have to learn that, too. So whatever got you all stuck up about this; get over it, and quick. You’re not gonna get an endless amount of chances, capisce? You already got a lot more than others did. ”

Instinctively and beyond his control, Vergil tried to avoid the gaze burning into his, only to find that it was impossible, partly because of the hand on his shoulder like a steel shackle, partly because of the sheer intensity in those eyes. Trapped and backed into a corner, he ground out between clenched teeth, “I know that.”

“Oh, good.”

In the blink of an eye, Dante had backed off again, rocking back with the biggest grin on his face, hands put on his hip as if nothing had happened just now. A quick glance over to Nero – the younger still kept a respectful distance, staring off into the distance now as if this did not concern him – and Dante got serious again, voice low, “Like I said – he’s better at this than we are. He’s better than you. Better than me. So get a move on and try, you deadbeat of a father.”

Then, softer, but no less stern. “He deserves it. Don’t fuck this up, Verge.”

 With one last salute, mocking through and through, Dante turned and wandered off, leaving Vergil behind to comprehend everything that had been flung at him. Dimly, the older of the two noted how Dante stopped when he reached Nero, clapping the younger on the shoulder with a bright grin. A quick conversation, an eyeroll from Nero followed by an elbow into the elder’s rips, answered with a loud, bellowing laugh from the man. Then they separated again, pushing past each other gently.

Dante jumped off the roof without looking back once.

 Vergil turned to look out over the city again (not much had changed, he noted, even if his memory of it was blurred and apparently the place had seen some rebuilding after demon attacks).

He made a point out of not looking, not checking what Nero would do. Cursing to himself for getting tricked into this so easily.

Quiet footsteps resounded, firm, not hesitating. They stopped next to him, before Nero lowered himself to sit beside him, feet dangling over the edge.

 They sat in silence for a while, Nero’s gaze wandering down to the group in the garden, then over the city that had been his home all his life.

Then, finally, the younger spoke up, “You didn’t come over to greet us.”

Teeth grinding together for a second (not even straight to the point), Vergil tightened his shoulders, pulling himself up straight. “There were enough others to do so.”

“Right. Sure. So, what now? You avoiding your own party?”  

“This party has nothing to do with me.”

“Yeah?” Now there was sharpness to Nero’s voice, even though he had tried to sound casual before. “The whole thing is about celebrating you guys getting back out of Hell alive. Would think that does concern you.”

Something cracked inside of Vergil – too many people trying to talk to him when all he wanted was silence to sort his thoughts, too many suspicious looks, too many voices in his mind not his own, too many decisions to make – and he snapped, ice lacing his words, “And me being alive is something to celebrate for you, yes?”  

“After I busted my ass off to keep you dumbasses alive?” Nero’s voice had risen for a second, before he seemed to remember that there where people down there who could hear him. Obviously restraining himself through sheer willpower alone, he finished in a hiss, “Yes, dammit, it is.”

 It should have made him angry, this child speaking in such a manner to him. The flaming gaze and bared teeth and balled fists should have put him on defense.

Surely, Vergil reflected, angry and confused at himself, surely this simple, angrily thrown out statement shouldn’t have made him feel relieved.

 (You remember him, you do, you do…)

 He closed his eyes against the heady, unfamiliar rush of emotions, willing them back, back into a heart that beat stronger and steadier than it had in years, demanding to be heard in a way he hadn’t felt in decades.

Better get this over with, before he did something stupid, Vergil thought – and took the leap. “If you have something to say, then speak.”

 “I still think you’re a damn asshole.”

 The words were quick, blurted out in such a rush as if they had wanted to come out of their own volition. For a second, Nero himself looked as if he was surprised by his outburst, before he frowned, turning away. He talked to the skyline instead, probably unaware of the way Vergil stared at the back of his head as he went. “I mean… fuck. Fuck, you cut my damn arm off! And you tried to kill Dante, who… who tries to kill their own brother?! That’s not even all you did – fuck, you, just – fuck you, okay?! Fuck you, for all the shit you tried to pull. But, Dante, me… You did that to your own family, you dick, you don’t just… you don’t just do that. Okay? It’s fucked up, that’s what it is. You’re fucked up.”

Silence settled between them, charged and heated, only interrupted by Nero’s heavy breathing, as if the young man had just fought a tough battle and was out of breath for it.

 Then, just when Vergil had half a mind to up and leave (clearly, the boy had said what he had to say know, right, this was it, this was over) Nero breathed in deeply, a hitching sound, before letting it out again in a hiss. When he spoke, his shoulders had lost some of their tension, and he seemed to ponder something. “But… like a friend of mine said not too long ago… without you, I wouldn’t be here. You’re my family. And I know there’s more to you than all that.”

 Too late, much too late, did Vergil realize that Nero’s gaze had dropped to something in the younger’s hand, gripped tightly but carefully.

All his anger evaporated as he caught sight of it - the old, slightly battered book gleamed golden in the light of the setting sun. A soft spot left wide open for all to see.

No.

Left in good, caring hands.

 (- “Hold onto that until then” -)

 As if sensing the elder’s gaze, Nero snapped up and around – eyes so bright they were nearly luminous, brows furrowed, the book raised like a weapon. A proof. Voice like steel, he repeated, “I know there is more to you.”

They stared at each other, blue into blue, nothing between them apart from a book and a decision. Nero looked like he dared him to disagree, to deny what he had just said.

Vergil found that he couldn’t do so.

 And finally, when the denial didn’t come, Nero seemed to come to a decision. Nodding to himself, he all but jabbed a finger of his free hand against Vergil’s chest, not heading the fact that the older didn’t budge and merely lifted a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“So this is how this show is going to go from now on – you fucked up big time. And I saved your ass more than once. You owe me,” there was a hint of knowing and smugness in Nero’s expression, and Vergil had a sense of déjà-vu, since that looked all too familiar, “You said so yourself. In fact, I would say you owe me several times over, asshole. That’s one ripped off arm, at least two times I saved your sorry ass, and I’m pretty sure there’s more. Would say that means you have some redeeming to do.

And you will,” now, Nero’s voice was sharp and unforgiving, eyes blazing as he jabbed again, not minding the twitch in Vergil’s face. “Because, again – you owe me.”

 For a moment, Vergil was struck speechless. There would have been a time, once, when this young one talking to him in such a way would have made him furious, would have had anger roar inside of him like wildfire.

It didn’t come, this time. Because the boy was right. He did owe him, had said so himself. If he broke his word now, Vergil knew with certainty, then he would never get another shot at… this. At getting to know Nero, the person he had caught glimpses off and had been proud of.

And that person - his son - wouldn’t let him off the hook, not that easily.

 Vergil felt a smirk stretch over his face, respect and amusement flickering inside him. “Did you already plan on how this… redemption is supposed to go, as well?”

Narrowing his eyes, Nero mulled the answer over, the gaze sweeping over his opposite calculating. Finally, he snorted, leaning back and crossing his arms, chin raised. “You’re going to help with the rebuilding of Red Grave City, for starters. I don’t care how – if you send money for repairs over or fucking lay bricks yourself to rebuild, your decision. That destruction was your fault, and you will make up for that.”

His breath was momentarily knocked out of Vergil at the prospect of having to see that city again – roots of his he had believed to be unrooted now – before he nodded jerkily, teeth clenched.

Satisfaction gleamed in Nero’s eyes. He seemed to grow surer about this the longer the other didn’t disagree. “Next of – fucking stop trying to kill Dante.”

“That,” Vergil pointed out, almost mildly, “we have already stopped.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, don’t start it again. It’s bullshit, and I would just have to beat you guys up again,” Nero waved it off, clearly disinterested in hearing any more about it. Missing the way Vergil’s lips twitched into a grin for the blink of an eye. “And – turn it down with the asshole attitude. Not saying you gotta become a damn saint here, but nobody here is trying to slit your throat in your sleep, so stop acting like it.”

There was probably no point in telling the younger that he wasn’t all that sure if nobody ever at least felt the urge to do just that to him, so Vergil simply nodded mutely in response to that before, “Anything else?”

 “A lot, probably,” Nero answered without missing a beat. “We will see about that when we get there.”

Vergil huffed, amused despite himself.

Nero looked him up and down again, considering. Then his posture relaxed slightly, forearms resting easily on his knees, shoulders slumping. “You’re actually not complaining about it.”

“Would it change anything?” A frown pulling at his expression, Vergil rolled his eyes. The quiet awe in Nero’s voice about that fact did not feel good at all. Had he not thought that Vergil would at least try?

“Nah. Just thought you would try to bargain at least.”

“I do not bargain about things,” Vergil frowned at the thought – well, perhaps there had been times where he should have done so. “I face what comes my way.”

“Head first through walls, huh?”

“I’ve been told I can be stubborn before, if you meant to imply that.”

At that, Nero laughed, quiet and deep. It was a surprisingly joyful sound nonetheless, and touched something in Vergil that he had thought long gone.  

 When Nero looked back up, past him and upwards, he was fully relaxed, eyes crinkling in silent amusement. “Hey, I just thought about something else you could do.”

Barely holding back a groan – did the younger have a list of deeds for him? – Vergil tilted his head in the other’s direction, signaling he was listening.

Nero kept his gaze on the sky above them, biting down on a smirk while he scratched his nose, pretending to think. “You know, I could use some help doing the dishes later.”

Vergil could feel his eyebrow twitching up in obvious surprise before he could stop it – the lapse in his expression clearly noted, since Nero’s smirk widened. At least his voice was still under his control, flat and cool as he more stated than asked, “The dishes.”

“You heard me.”

“You are not serious.”

“This is how I sound when I’m serious. You better get used to it real quick.” Nero must have noticed the disbelief on Vergil’s face, for he smirked, shoulders moving in what could have been a tiny shrug or suppressed laughter. “You did see how many people we invited, right? And Dante eats for three. There’s going to be a lot of dishes, and I’m not gonna do it alone.”

 Vergil could only stare at this curious young man (son, family, his), who surely must be mocking him right now.

Who could have, should have put him down, should have torn into him, should have- he should have hated him.

The younger could have asked anything of him, in his debt as he was.

And he asked him to do inane chores.

 “He’s better than you. Better than me.”

 Was that… was that an offering? A chance?  

His mind drew blank as to what he should do with this information, this turn of events.

 “Don’t fuck this up, Verge.”

 The rest of him, however, seemed to know, deep down. There was a mixture of warmth and something else, bright and strong, spreading through him, curling gently in his chest as if to stay there permanently.

Vergil didn’t feel like analyzing it. Not right now, at least.

 He closed his eyes, tilted his face towards the setting sun. For the first time since taking this place high above the buzzing, lively group down in the garden, he felt the warmth on his face, the breeze caressing through his hair. Free enough of the thoughts repeating over and over in his head that he could pay attentions to the world around him again.

“Very well, then,” he conceded at last.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t see it, but the smirk in Nero’s voice palpable. “Alright, sweet. Counting on you.”

 This time, the silence that settled between them held no anger, only a sense of calm.

Only to be interrupted from an outside source a minute later.

 “GUYS!”

 They both looked down to see Nico waving up at them with one arm, her free hand cupped before her mouth as a makeshift megaphone.

“What?!” Nero bellowed back.

“GET DOWN HERE, FOOD IS GONNA BE READY SOON!”

“If it’s not ready yet, there’s no need to yell at us already!”

“MOVE YOUR ASS, YOU HANDSOME DEVIL!”

 “I told you not to call me that,… oh fuck’s sake,” Nero sighed, even though it didn’t sound sincere, and rock back and forth to push himself to his feet in one fluid motion. Clapping some dust off, he hesitated, gaze flickering down to where Vergil was still sitting. “You, ah. You coming?”

Gesturing vaguely, Vergil shook his head. “In a minute.”

“Suit yourself. But I’m not bringing you any food up here.”

It was a good thing Nero had already turned away, else he might have caught the little upwards twitch of Vergil’s lips in response.

 Vergil, however, saw full well how Nero gingerly, almost tenderly, held the book full of poems against his chest as he made to leave, thumb caressing over the thin spine mindlessly.

It was a kind of care Vergil remembered clearly, from days long gone – days spent in libraries and bookshops, surrounded and soothed by bound pages and written words. And the books he had been most careful with had been those… Those he knew and loved.

“You read it.”

The question – statement – seemed to throw Nero for a second. He turned, gaze following that of the older back to the book, and realization dawned. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips (tugged at Vergil’s loud, demanding heart) as he ducked his head a little.

Scratching his cheek, Nero shook his head, “Didn’t finish. Missing a few poems yet.”

He must have misread something in Vergil’s expression, since he coughed lightly, scratching again, not meeting the other’s eyes. “I might have read a few of them multiple times. That takes time, okay.”

A quick glance over at the older, then Nero frowned, seeming to realize something. “What, you want it back? I mean, it’s yours, so…”

“Keep it.”

 Nero halted in his movement, the hand offering the book halfway extended, eyebrows arched. Staring.

Vergil wasn’t much better off, surprised that he heard himself speak so quickly, so thoughtlessly. He clucked his tongue – at himself or Nero, he wasn’t sure – and gestured at the book between them. “Missing a few, you said. You should not leave things unfinished. It does not… seem to be your style.”

A beat, two… then something flickered over Nero’s face, the shift too quick for Vergil to analyze. Eyes narrowing then widening, before a slow, warm smile stretched over the young man’s face, growing into a crooked grin.

 (It was the first time he had the younger see truly smile in his vicinity, part of Vergil noted.)

 “Yeah, well,” Nero said, slowly, smile still there and softening his expression into something warm and open. He pulled the book back, safely tucking it into his jacket again. “Guess I inherited a stubborn streak from someone. Don’t do well with giving up halfway through.”

Processing that for a second, Vergil huffed, shaking his head as he turned away from the younger. “I see.”

Retreating steps could be heard, and Nero called over his shoulder. “Don’t let the food get cold.”

 Vergil waited until he sensed that he had been left alone on the roof, before allowing himself to breathe out, deep and slow.

His heart beat steady and strong.

No urge to blame, to fight, to leave. No drive to chase after faraway goals.

Only quiet and peace.

                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Maybe his disappearance hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he had thought, since there where very obvious reactions once Vergil tried to slip back into the middle of things without being seen. People fell silent in the middle of their sentence, heads turned and gazes followed him about.

 Opting to ignore them, he straightened and made his way past them, keeping his attention on getting something to eat. Behind him, the conversations picked up again, yet he could feel the prickle of being watched every now and then, the hairs at his neck rising under the scrutiny, skin feeling itchy and tight due to it.

He didn’t let it show, didn’t let it deter him. Used the satisfied little curl of Nero’s lips once the younger spotted him in the crowd as his guide instead.

At least to the young man, he was welcome here. That would have to be enough for now.

 He walked along the table that obviously served as the buffet, almost buckling under its load of an assortment of different food. Passing the stack of pizza cartons, smirk twitching around his lips at the sight, he halted, considered his options, and settled on some pasta, filling one of the plates at hand to the brim much like he had seen the other guests do.

For a moment, he almost forgot about the people around him, until a soft voice addressed him. “Vergil?”

 A gentle hand on his elbow, the touch soft and light, stopped him in his tracks, more efficiently than any foe could ever had. He dropped his gaze to the fingers resting on him – asking for attention, not demanding, not restricting – and followed the length of the slender arm, up to Kyrie’s face.

She was smiling, eyes soft and warm with… amusement, of all the things. “I just wanted to tell you - don’t mind what Nero said.”

Alerted, Vergil narrowed his eyes at her, pondering what she could have heard of their conversation. It had not been all that personal, yet still it was… more than he felt comfortable with, to share with a stranger.

Kyrie blinked, before she laughed, raising a hand to her mouth to smother it. “Oh, no, I wasn’t listening in! I meant about the help with the dishes. Nero told me about it. You don’t have to do that of course - you’re our guest, after all.”

 She didn’t mention any of the other demands Nero had made, even though Vergil was suddenly very sure that she knew about those, too. Even to him, it had been clear how close those two were, how much his son counted on the strong partner by his side, and vice versa.

Yet it was not her place to discuss those with him, and she knew that as well. He felt a sudden respect for this young woman well up in him, impressed by her loyalty to Nero.

 Shoulders relaxing minutely, Vergil was about to answer, when it abruptly occurred to him that she had read his thoughts easily that, simply from his expressions. How curious and… confusing. Carefully schooling his face back into a neutral expression, voice quiet, he murmured lowly, “It is of… it is no trouble.”

Of no matter, seemed wrong, he reflected, for it felt like it did, simple a task as it was.

Kyrie examined his expression, pursing her lips – only to start smiling again after a moment. “Alright, if you say so…”

“Hm.”

“… then, thank you in advance.”

The hand on his arm squeezed lightly before she pulled away, turning to survey the buffet. Taking up a plate and selecting a menu for herself, she smiled one last time at him, looking him straight in the eye, clearly happy when he inclined his head ever so slightly at her. And then she was gone again, easily weaving through people who made way for her.

Vergil watched her reach Nero at the other side of the garden. Watched still as Kyrie rose to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek, causing a bright smile to stretch over his face while he leaned down to murmur something into her ear, causing loud, happy laughter to echo over the little crowd. Was still watching as Kyrie picked something of her plate to offer it for Nero to eat…

 Something old and long forgotten steered in Vergil’s memory –peaceful days, when father had come back home, carrying with him presents and tales. Mother’s eyes that had shone bright with laughter as her husband lifted her and twirled her around. Evenings spent curled together, four bodies all but wrapped around each other while father’s deep voice told them stories of places far away, and mother’s laughing protests when the stories got too adventurous and bloody rang out, even though the twins had fake-pouted for more.

This… this little scene he was witnessing here was a private scene, achingly familiar and yet something he was a stranger to. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Vergil resolutely turned his back on the pair and walked away, aiming for the table that had been set up in a corner of the garden.

 Much to his displeasure – at least he told himself so – Dante had already found his way to the table as well. Feet kicked up onto a corner of the wooden surface, arms crossed behind his head and rocking dangerously on the back legs of the chair, his twin grinned up way too smugly at him as he approached. “What did I catch back there? You, doing chores?”

Not dignifying with an answer what the other obviously knew already, Vergil picked a seat nearly at the opposite end of the table, getting comfortable.

“Kid must really have kicked your ass if you agreed to that.”

“He had good arguments to base his demands on. In fact, this part was the easiest one,” Vergil relented, ducking his head to hide his own smirk as Dante laughed at that. “He will make me work for it.”

“As he should. Good kid.”

Nothing in Dante’s voice gave the feeling as if he was joking with that comment, only fondness and respect audible when one listened close enough – knew him well enough.

And Vergil found himself agreeing with it. There would be a lot to do and atone for, yet… the reward might just be worth it. He considered the situation he found himself in in silence for a while, and came to a conclusion. “… I will. Work for it, that is.”

Will work to make it right, was left unsaid.

“Yeah?” Dante tilted his head to look at his twin, blinking in surprise, then grinned brightly and turned away again. “Good for him. For you both.”

“Hm-hm.”

 “Would you look at these guys,” an amused voice cut between them, both twins turning as Trish approached, carrying a glass and nothing else with her. “They started without us.”

“Rude,” announced Lady, skipping past the blonde woman and around the table to look for a seat herself. “Must run in the family.”

“Okay, you take that back,” Nero shot back, snorting to himself as he observed the table. Behind him, the rest of the guests followed. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Fine, leaving you out of this one.”

“Thank you so much.”

 “Okay, just to make this clear,” Dante announced, letting his chair fall back into a horizontal position  and leaning over the table to accept the plate Kyrie handed him with a cheeky wink and mischievous grin. “I want a new, clean plate for every pizza I eat. No cartons. We got to give Mister Dishwasher here something to do.”

Vergil looked up from his plate just enough to send another inefficient glare in his twin’s direction. He received a toothy grin for his troubles. Figures.

“Dante, don’t be a di-…,” Nero stopped himself, eyes flickering to Kyrie who hid a smile behind her hand, before he turned back to scowl at Dante, “Don’t. Just, don’t.”

“Aw com’ on, kid…”

“No.”

“It’s just fun! Good ol’ fun between…”

“I’m going to punch you again, old man.”

Dante closed his mouth abruptly with a quiet click of teeth, leaning back with his plate and one hand raised in surrender.

 The gesture of submission drew a bout of laughter from the people around them. Trish was grinning so brightly it must have hurt, and Lady was hooting with mirth. Even Kyrie was shaking with barely withheld laughter.

Morrison wiped away at tear before clapping Nero on the back, who looked up a bit perplexed, but ultimately grinned back. “Kid, I’ve never seen someone shut this guy down like that. Respect!”

“Hey, his bitch slaps hurt!” Dante protested. “Nearly killed me with that one!”

“Oh god,” Lady sniffled, still giggling. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“Nero, next time, give us a call beforehand,” Trish added, hand on Nero’s elbow as she leaned over to him. “We have to see that.”

“Sure, deal.”

“Probably went like…,” Nico imitated being slapped in the face and falling over with dramatic flailing, earning another round of laughter. She resurfaced with one hand propped on the table, laughing so hard she was nearly crying. “S-Sorry, sorry, that was just too good to pass up.”

“Okay, okay, we get it, punching me in the face is funny ….”

“It is,” Nero interrupted, eyes dancing with laughter. “It really is.”

Glowering at the younger, Dante stuffed a slice of pizza whole into his mouth, chewing near defiantly on it. The muttered “Punk.” was almost lost in cheese and tomato sauce.

 “Alright, boys, no more fighting,” Kyrie announced, hands on her hips, fondness in her voice and smile on her lips. “We will enjoy our dinner together in peace.”

“Hear, hear!”

“That peace is gonna last two minutes, max.”

“The lady of the house has spoken, everybody shove some food into your mouth and shut up.”

“I can do that.”

“We know you can.”

“Was that a jab at my healthy appetite?”

“Nothing healthy about that, old friend.”

 The chatter started up again easily, quips and jabs flying left and right, gentle shoves and punches being dished out while everyone laughed and talked over each other, all the while taking seats and getting comfortable. In all the ruckus, it seemed to be forgotten that one of them was more stranger than friend, the good mood and company easing any suspicion for the time being.

Vergil found himself sandwiched between Dante’s old partner Morrison, who nodded at him before turning around to strike up a conversation with Trish, and Nico, who was so caught up in explaining a new gun to Lady she didn’t even seem to notice who sat on her other side, exactly. Dante was talking with his mouth full, getting whacked over the head by Trish for it and laughing, the sound muffled, looking unapologetic to boot. A few of the children living with Nero and Kyrie were still running around the table, laughing loudly, rushing from one of the adults to the other to ask for stories about their demon hunting adventures.

 It was an absolute mess, and noisier than Hell itself, but the urge to stand up and leave for peace and quiet never came, much to Vergil’s surprise. Deciding that was just as well, he tasted a bit of the food before him.

He actually had to pause and savor the bite for a second, flavors bursting on his tongue. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten anything this savory.

 “Hey, can anyone pass the pepper?” Nero’s voice rose above the ruckus, but he was still mostly unheard, everyone too caught up in something else.

It wasn’t even a conscious move, but Vergil had already reached out and handed the item across the table to his opposite before it really registered with him, making him pause in the middle of it.

Nero looked just as perplexed as he felt for the blink of an eye. Then surprise made way for a crooked grin as he accepted the shaker “Thanks… father.”

Vergil didn’t find any words to offer, mouth suddenly dry as his gaze met Nero’s, the same blue eyes as his own looking back at him without any sort of resentment – simply warmth.

 There would be a lot to do and atone for, and yet… yet…

The reward would be so, so worth it.  

 “So,” Nico piped up, startling both men out of their silence and then drawing the attention of everyone towards her. “Are we supposed to do a toast at this kind of thing? Like, hey real neat that you didn’t die or somethin’?”

“You have a way with words,” Nero grumbled, leaning back. There was still a smile stuck in a corner of his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Ah, you’re one to talk, smartass.”

“I think a toast is a great idea,” Kyrie interrupted the argument before it could even start. Raising her glass, she offered, “To Dante and Vergil?”

“Aw, don’t make me blush, kiddo,” Dante gave back, fluttering his eyelashes that made Trish snort loudly next to him. “How about – good to be back?”

“Still alive and kicking!” Lady offered, raising her own glass.

“To new beginnings?”

“To being too though to die!”

“To good food.”

 “To family.”

 Heads turned, surprised gazes straying to Nero, who held his glass high above his head, looking somewhere between amused and embarrassed.

“That’s a great idea,” Kyrie agreed, sending a soft smile his way that made Nero’s shoulder relax visibly.

 “Yes.”

Vergil didn’t blink as all those gazes now snapped towards him, openly staring at him as if nobody could believe that this single word had just come out of his mouth. He ignored them, focused fully on Nero opposite of him as he reached over and lifted his own glass to tip it towards the younger in silent acknowledgement.

The smile on Nero’s face widened, bright and sincere, and all the perplexed staring in the world could stop Vergil from feeling his heart grew lighter than it had been since he was a child.

 It was Dante who spoke next, breaking the silence and bafflement by declaring, swinging his own glass up. “Best idea I’ve heard in a long while. To family!”

That seemed to break the spell over the group, and everyone laughed, cheered, agreed with bright smiles on their faces as they reached for their own glasses. Somewhere next to Vergil, Nico announced “You guys are gonna make me cry” and Nero laughed loudly at that, head thrown back, and even Vergil smiled, unseen in all the commotion.

 “To family!”

“Yeah!”

“CHEERS!”

 Their combined voices, united in one bright, happy shout, could be heard over half the city.