#cursive fucks so unbelievably hard

[streetl4mp]

we love you just the way you are, crushed ‘neath fashion magazines, trampled by circus pony dreams, won’t you kiss me? won’t you kiss me?

[vinylhazza]

please continue the one about ethan. what’s it like when he gets home? or when he starts getting hate for cheating? like did the fans get mad that he cheated on y/n, or were they mad at y/n for not “pleasing him”? does he try to get y/n back? what about the girl, what does she do? how does grayson feel about it? is he mad at ethan? i actually love this concept and all its angst

part 1 here

you had successfully removed all of your things from the house before the twins got home from Australia. you didn’t want to see ethans face or you’re afraid you might actually break into a million pieces.

you tried your hardest to think about moving on because you got played by someone you fell in love you. and love was never a word you used. it was a word reserved for family and someone that would one day treat you like a queen. but now all of the sudden when you think of that word...all you can see is ethans smile, and the way he fluffs his hair, or his puffy cheeks in the morning, or the way he chases you around the house when you steal his favorite hoodie - even if he ends up letting you keep it.

love is ethan.

you had sobbed for two days after you left, knowing they would be home soon and knowing that ethan was going to read the letter and know that he’d lost you. you didn’t even know if he would care. you just knew that your apartment felt cold and lonely. you knew that you hadn’t even really settled into the apartment because you had spent most of your time at the twins house. you knew that sleep was scarce without his arms to keep you warm and his steady breathing to lull you back to sleep.

you knew that breakfast was different without grayson singing off key and ethan stumbling in just as he smelt the bacon. you knew that seeing the twitter comments on your most recent tweet was so mixed that it hurt you more. some people were supporting you, saying things like:

“don’t worry baby he will realize how bad he fucked up!”

“honestly what did you expect?”

“australia does that to people don’t take it too personal”

“keep your head up, we are here for you”

“cheaters are honestly so disgusting i’m so sorry y/n”

“okay making up fake shit to try and frame him really isn’t cool”

“didn’t think it was that serious it’s literally a kiss on the cheek?”

“he’s not worth the tears babe!” 

and it hurt. you knew how the fans were. you knew that they thought the twins could do no wrong and the majority would get angry for you even suggesting such a thing - even if you haven’t tweeted anything since you saw the pictures. it wasn’t in your nature to take your problems to the internet. let them think what you want, you were too heartbroken to care anyway. you had honestly thought about deleting social media all together until it dies down, but you wanted to torture yourself just a bit longer. it still felt like a dream you hoped you’d wake up from soon.

your days dragged on like a loop. get up, eat, go to work, come home, eat, scroll through your phone, get sad, cry in the shower, lay awake with bloodshot eyes, do it all over again.

you’d never felt true heartbreak. sure you’d had boyfriends before, but it was never like this. no one had ever made you feel this way in your entire life. you had never fallen in love, had never had your heart race from a single look. you had never been this head over heels. but you’d also never felt this low and hurt.

you had always thought he was too good for you anyway, but seeing it flash before your eyes in a series of four pictures was absolutely horrendous and had been playing in your head repeatedly since that day. 

the girl in the pictures was apparently a friend of a friend of there’s, no one you had seen before. but she was nice enough to send you a short message in your inbox, trying to tell you that she you knew you were in a committed relationship and she knew she was being a bit too touchy - but nothing had happened between them and ethan never even thought about making a move on her. it was hard to believe, especially with seeing the pictures thousands of times and making up different scenarios of how he might have betrayed her. 

when ethan walked through the door, he knew something was wrong. something was very very wrong.

it was cold. that was the first sign. it was freezing in the house and there was no scent of strawberries to be found.

he had seen all of the pictures and the drama, noticed all of the tweets and mixed opinions. he knew he fucked up. but it really wasn’t what everyone thought it was. yes the pictures were real, but they also weren’t pictures of him cheating on you. they were pictures of a girl he’d met in australia that had gotten a bit too comfortable and he was a bit too tipsy. no excuse for how touchy she was being, but it was the truth.

he wouldn’t play victim. he knew you had seen all of the pictures and tweets flying around the internet...but he’d thought you’d stick around to let him explain. he thought you would come at him in a blind rage when he walked in the door - pissed at him and yelling like he deserved. you were never the one to stay quiet when something upset you. that honestly would have been better than the feeling of this dark house looming in front of him. 

he’d tried to text you the past couple of days, knowing it was hard because of the time zones, but also knowing you answered whenever you could. but there was nothing. not one message. you had blocked his number, sobbing while you pressed the button but knowing the best way to get over him was to block him out completely. easier said than done. there was always traces of him everywhere you looked - 

he had also never seen his brother this mad at him in his entire life. no he didn’t condone the hateful messages being left to his brother online, but he did think that he deserved them on some level. grayson had yelled at ethan the entire way out of terminal at the airport.

“how fucking stupid are you e? this girl is completely fucking in love with you and you don’t even have the decency to call her and explain? you’ve been treating her like down right shit as it is and i’m honeslty surprised she hasn’t left your stupid ass,” grayson seethed at his older twin brother, yanking his bag off of the baggage claim and rolling it away with a huff, shaking it head.

he knew grayson was right. but he also knew that he was being this distant and giving you the cold shoulder for one reason and one reason alone. he had never been so in love. and he was scared out of his mind that it would all go away. he had already lost his dad this year and when he realizes that he would rather hear your laugh than his favorite song, he ran away. literally ran away from you to a different fucking country and acting foolish out of fear and self doubt. 

grayson had every reason to be treating him like the stupidest man on earth. because he was. he was ruining the best thing he’d ever had out of a hunch that wasn't even true. the one thing that seemed to stick out to him in graysons little speech was “completely fucking in love with you”...there was no way you loved him back. you were everything he dreamed he would one day deserve. you were kind and caring, breathtakingly beautiful, supportive...everything he’s ever wanted in a woman. he had a thought cross his mind once that his dad made you two bump into each other in isle 3 at that grocery store - knowing you would be the one to help him through his hurt...but also giving his son the woman he was meant to love. the thought that his dad sent you to him had him crying in his car after the first date, feeling this weight in his heart, like his dad was with him that moment. 

yeah you had been having fun and they had gotten unbelievably close over the past couple of months, but once he started ghosting you, he really was trying to make you hate him. he thought it was better for you to be mad and him to ghost her than fall for you and have you leave when he was already so invested. he couldn't lose anything else. it was scary and he didn’t want to be scared anymore. he wanted you to leave so you wouldn't have to realize he really wasn't shit. 

little did he know you already did leave. walking through his empty, cold, sad house was a day that he would look back on and hate for the rest of his life. he and grayson had such a good time traveling around the world and getting away for a while that he didn’t even think about how he was making you feel. he couldn't have you coming along and being that pretty and taking his heart more and more than you already had - he needed to get away from you before it was too late. 

but seeing that letter laying on the bed, folding neatly into a little square, he knew he had fucked up. looking around the room, his heart shattered, seeing no trace that you were ever even there. the closet was cleared of your clothes, toothbrush not resting in his usual place on the counter, book gone from its normal place on the nightstand. the only thing left to convince him it wasn't all a dream was that little folded piece of paper sat neatly against his pillow. 

this was the moment you had been dreading, thinking about for the last three days. the moment ethan would finally realize just how much he hurt you, and just how in love you were with him. you didn't know if he was too far gone to care, or if he would try and contact you, but you needed to be strong. you owed yourself more than to be walked over by someone who showed you such a great deal of disrespect. 

reading that letter was the hardest thing he ever had to do. tears were running down his face while he scanned over your words. he could feel your pain and read the cursive in your voice, your sweet voice that could get his heart racing faster than anything could. knowing how bad he had hurt you was the most painful feeling. 

“p.s. I fell in love with you...” reading those words out loud hit him like a ton of bricks...he’d lost the best thing that had ever happened to him. you loved him? this was his goal, to have you angry, to have you leave before he could get too attached...but somehow this didn't feel like an accomplishment. it felt like huge mistake. it felt like he was a fucking idiot that wanted to hop in his car and chase after you right this very moment. it felt like he wanted to bang on your door until you opened it just so he could kiss you with all the force he had in his body - apologize for making you feel worthless. because you were anything but that. you were his everything. how could he fucking do this to you? 

he was trying not the crumple the paper in his hands while he cried, imagining what you must have felt seeing those pictures that were so out of context. he tried to imagine what you felt when he didn't invite you on their adventures...all because he couldn't man up and admit that he wanted you forever. all because he was scared to have something good slip through the cracks again. 

“I told you so,” grayson gloated from the door, disappointed in his brother, but hoping he would get his shit together and get in the fucking jeep to go after you like a real man. 

ethan was silent, staring down at the letter like he forgot how to breathe, forgot how to think, forgot how to be the man you needed. he had been so broken for so long, how could he possibly fix this when you were the one that fixed him the first time?

“so what are you gonna do? break? or be the kind of man that dad always wanted us to be?” grayson said from behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder, saying what needed to be said. he needed those words of wisdom, and if their dad wasn't here to say it, then he would. 

he made a mistake and you needed to know the truth. if he had to spend the rest of his life making this up to you and proving that he is the man worthy of your love, then that's what he would do. but what he isn't going to do, is disappoint his hero in the sky, the one man that told him to always be brave. to always choose love first. he refused to go against everything his dad believed in. he refused to let you get away without a fight - without knowing how much he adored you. he refused to have grayson look at him like a wounded puppy any longer. the answer was quite simple really. 

“i’m going to get her back.” 

tags: @dolandolll @dolanshellyes @justanothergirl-80 @ebbach-03 @ardordolan @justordinaryjen @aquadolan @graysavant @graydolan12

[deliasbabygirl-blog]

The Idiot in Purple

Summary: She knows most of the people around her are frightful of her presence, afraid of the power of the back of her hand or the venom of her words. And most of the time, Wilhelmina Venable loves the fear she instills in others, but something is changing, someone is changing her. She is feeling something she is quite afraid of herself, and she knows if she allows it, she will get hurt. Right?

Request/Prompt: 49. Don’t fucking touch me - @taciales

Pairing: Wilhelmina Venable x Reader

Word Count: 2,141

A/N: so i am here for soft venable! its in there, its up to me to write about it! anyway, this ending is absolute trash, so im sorry. also @lana-b-bana if you wanna read some garbage 

The gentle thudding of her cane led her down the extravagant staircase of the mansion, her body aching relentlessly from her tossing and turning, her discomfort the night previous. She sighed heavily, thought silently, wondering if Cordelia still contained that horrid mixture of plants that eased her pain, or if she would consider making her more. She would ask later when the coven was not awake, or simply not there, and the blonde worked alone in the greenhouse.

Hearing the usual morning chatting and whispers ghosting from the kitchen, she opted eating breakfast once the mutters dissipated, when she did not have to encounter any of the childish comments or behaviors of the young witches. Instead she would busy herself in the peace and quiet of the downstairs office designed specifically for her upon her arrival.

She nudged the white door with her shoulder, granting her access into the private room before clicking the handle behind her. Inhaling deeply, she relished in the aroma of lavender – another of Cordelia’s stress relieving ideas. Though she could hardly stand the Supreme, she could not argue that she was beneficial from time to time.

As she neared her regal black desk, she noticed the single lilac cross the keyboard of her computer. Confusion furrowed her brows, her fingers reaching for the delicate flower before noticing the minuet note beside it. She hummed, sitting in the comforting, molding chair behind the desk, looking over the cursive written across the small square of paper.

You look beautiful today, the note read, and she wondered whom would’ve left such a pathetic scribble upon her desk, who would’ve snuck into her office for something quite outlandish. She was not one for secret admirers or childish games. No one had seen her that morning, therefore, she concluded, someone was attempting to poke fun at her, her anger heated the blood within her veins.

She quickly tossed the note into the small trashcan beneath the desk, setting the lilac aside to simply start some of her paperwork for the mayor about some celebration for their coven. The thought bored her, but it seemed important to Cordelia, and if she wanted the blonde to leave her alone, she had to do what was asked of her.

Though she buried herself within the task, her mind wandered to the flower and note, stealing most of her focus, truthfully. Her mind wandered to you, to your face, to your laugh, to the kindness in which lingered whenever you left a room. There was no possible way you would’ve left her something. There was no possible way you thought she was beautiful.

Many nights she had fought with her mind for slumber for the thought of your body beside hers haunted every thought she had, the thought of you touching her skin, her thighs, your lips against hers. She indulged in her fantasies those nights, her hand slipping beneath her cotton underwear, pretending it was yours. And she would cry when it was over for you would never feel those things for her, not with her…disability.

Attempting once more to shake you from her mind, she dropped the flower into the trash, forcing herself to complete another serious of specific questions from the mayor. There was no reason to dwindle on something that would never happen, she would never be good enough for you. It pissed her off, it ruined her day, and it made her resent you.

She was thinking of you, again, even though she was working, even though she completed her work, you remained on her mind. With a weighted, quiet sigh of pain and frustration, she stood from her chair in hopes no one would be in the kitchen any longer, hoping Cordelia had started a lesson or the young witches left altogether.

Relying more on her cane today than usual, she began down the corridors to the mentioned room. However, you appeared around the corner, heading toward her with an eager smile on your face. She could feel the animal within her chest livening, awakening, but her jaw tensed, her brows lowering in displeasure.

“Good morning, Miss Venable,” you offered her, running your fingers through your seemingly smooth hair. She frowned, muttering a hello to in response before continuing toward the kitchen she could see out of the corner of her eye. Fingers curled around her free arm, startling her, and she swung her hand in your direction, colliding it with your soft cheek.

She watched in horror as you fell toward the floor, your knees breaking your fall, her face remained stoic, unmoved by her actions. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she gritted between her teeth, glaring down at you, but the butterflies within her reminded her that you were the most precious thing she knew of.

“What the hell?” you retorted, hand running over your swelling cheek. “I was only going to ask if you got the flower this morning.”

She could feel the anchor attached to her heart sinking it within its own cage, and she sighed silently, staring down at you. But she refused to express the pain she caused you contort her face. Instead, she huffed. “Yes, I got it.” Then, she turned her back, continuing in route for a cup of steaming coffee.

Heels stomped against the hardwood approaching her as she stirred the sugar into the black mug. Before glancing away from the twirling steam, she was aware who was nearing her, and she rolled her eyes. “Wilhelmina Venable, what the fuck?” came the far too familiar bite from the Supreme. Even when the blonde was angry, her voice sounded calm. “What are you doing slapping our students?

Y/N Y/L/N just told me she brought you a flower from the garden today, and when she was coming to ask you about receiving it or not, you smacked her across the face. I saw the hand print on her cheek. What were you thinking?”

There was no use in lying to the powerful witch for she was certain her thoughts were heard, her feelings already known, the memory of the incident already displayed within the blonde’s mind. “She startled me,” she stated simply, short and bitter. “It was a mere reflex, Cordelia. Tell our students to keep their hands to themselves.”

“Unbelievable.” The single word remained though the pounding of the heels along the floor began again, fading down the corridors of the mansion. She sighed shakily, wondering when she would be able to see you without thinking of how your curves would fit alongside hers. The smack to the cheek was unmatched to excruciating pain she felt within her chest.

Neglecting the coffee within the sink, she leaned against the counter, facing the doorway toward the staircase. The ghost of your fingers ran along her skin, and she swallowed harshly, wishing she’d never laid a hand on you, though you had startled her. If there remained an inkling of hope you would ever see her the way she say you, she destroyed it with the back of hand.

She perched herself on the edge of the white couch later that day, looking over the blazing fire within the fireplace, the oranges and yellows dancing in the darkness of night. Other than the simple lesson she had given earlier, she was able to avoid the young, foolish witches, more importantly you. During the lesson, she recalled, you refused to look to her, and she could hardly blame you.

However, she wished she was about to avoid looking at you. She found herself glancing at you every few moments, seeing the tinge of anguish within your eyes, noticing what she nearly swore was betrayal flashing across your beautiful features. The realization of her actions taunted her, tensing her muscles, her anger roaring in her words to the other witches.

Now, thinking of how she craved to touch the bruise painting your cheek, to caress it, to kiss it gently and whisper that she would never hurt you, would never intentionally hurt you. She angered herself further for why did she have to think such things? Why couldn’t she simply forget about you or feel toward you the way she did the others? What was so special about you?

For starters, her enemy, her mind began, you were absolutely striking, to her, one of the most naturally beautiful women she had ever seen. Not to mention one of the sexiest, your body calling her name beneath black dress and blouses. One time she had accidentally ran into you in the middle of the night in the kitchen, in only tee shirt and underwear, and in that moment, she craved you more than ever.

You were also the kindest of the young witches, raising your hand politely when you wanted to speak, holding the mansion door for her – and only her – on grocery days. Her mind thought deeper, processing actions it seemed you did absentmindedly, such as buying her coffee whenever the coven wandered into town. She had assumed you pitied her, for you would also sit with her while the others meandered the streets, sipping on your drinks and making small talk.

Small talk she’d always built a wall against, making it hard for you to speak of much other than the weather and the steaming coffee between you. More than once, in those moments, the two of you would sit in silence, but you never left her side, not once. Because you pitied her. You pitied her cane, her back, her.

The rage within her veins settled as she thought of all the ways you pitied her, from the coffee, to the company, to the greetings in the mornings, to checking on her some nights when her pain was bothering her legs, to…the flower. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” she grumbled in realization that you never pitied her, never felt sorry for her.

She stood, cane wobbling slightly as she captured balance, and turned toward the corridor, but what she found was you standing behind the couch, watching her silently. Gasping, clutching her chest, she fell back onto the couch from the startle. “Y/N,” she cursed your name, feeling the familiar anger heating within her, but she forced it away the best she could.

“I’m sorry, Miss Venable,” you muttered, and she noticed your rush around the couch, kneeling in front of her. “I wanted to talk about this morning,” you continued. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t want you…I didn’t want you to walk away.”

She could see the tears swelling in the corners of your starry eyes, and her own heart began drowning once more, seeing the agony she had created within you. She forced the tensing away from her jawline, from her face, attempting to offer you the softest gaze she possibly could for she could not allow you to think she hated you. Never could she hate you. She loved you.

“You always walk away from me,” you added, your hand resting on her knee causing her to shutter, her eyes flickering from the sudden touch back to your gaze. “Why do you do that? Did I do something?”

Though your eyes pleaded with her for an answer, desperation ribboning your question, she could not answer, she was not a soft person who allowed others within her mind, within her heart. She had promised herself that never again would she welcome someone some closely to her. Instead, her eyes darted down to her lap focusing on your hand, her mind screaming for her to say anything.

“Please, Venable. I don’t know what I did, and I want to make things right,” she could hear the quivering in your voice. “Look, I don’t know why you hate me. I’ve tried to show you a million times how much you mean to me. I think about you every fucking morning and every single night. I wonder how you’re feeling, how I can make you smile!”

The world around her stilled, the air within her lungs seized, and she dared look at you over the rim of her glasses. She prayed her glance toward you said she felt the same way, she was never going to say it, she knew that to be true. Suddenly, you were kissing her, your lips were as soft as she had dreamed.

She reached for you, running her fingers gently down the bruise across your cheek, feeling your subtle wincing before she retracted her hand, somehow intertwining it with yours still upon her knee.

You pitied her cane. A soft kiss pressed against her now tense jaw. You pitied her back. A kiss upon her shoulder caused her to shutter. You pitied her. You loved her. You always had, she just ignored it, she groaned, thinking of how foolish she was. You loved her all along.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 12

Author’s notes: What is a timeline and an upload schedule? Cause idk lol Thanks for the love and support lovelies <3 Psst...think you’re gonna like Chapter 13

Chapter 12

What the hell were you supposed to do with yourself?

Nero was leading the way back through the subway. The area was completely clean and clear of demons, scorch marks and bullet holes telling a very violent story. You found yourself quiet, unable to think of anything to say while your mind raced the way it did. Completely done in by a little hint of romance. V seemed completely unfazed, his usual confident self as you both followed behind the demon hunter. He hadn’t let Griffon and Shadow back out yet, which you appreciated. You couldn’t imagine how you looked at that moment, but Griffon was definitely smart enough to tell when you were flustered. How dare V be so composed and calm after shaking up your world like that? Very unfair.

You wanted to make it fair.

So you tasked yourself with finding a similar composure. Counting breaths, tapping your fingers on you thigh, biting the inside of your cheek. You thought you saw V steal a few glances at you from under his black hair, but you couldn’t be sure. You were so frustrated. You felt teased, so unbelievably teased. But in a way...maybe this was best--had you kissed him, you don’t know how you two would have acted afterwards. Even this close space contact was just so hard. Was it just simple lust? You doubted that, at least on your part. You could never feel attraction without at least some emotion attached to it.

You kept close to the poet, wondering just how you could get him flustered--probably would have been easier alone. You glanced forward at the demon hunter, who was keeping a close eye on your surroundings. Unlike you.

Nero, for the most part, was completely oblivious--at least to your knowledge. He was flexing his metal arm, flicking blood from in between the gears and fingertips. You noticed he had switched between several different types of arms, this one a little more stream-lined. All made by Nico of course. It was pretty apparent that you didn’t know much about the demon-hunter either, which was kind of upsetting considering how much you enjoyed his company as well. He was a closed book too. Minus the knowledge of him having a fiance named Kyrie, whom he loves and adores. You definitely hoped you could meet her someday as well, you couldn’t imagine what kind of woman she could be to date someone like Nero.

Trying to distract yourself, you cleared your throat.

“So what’s your story, Nero?” You asked, quickening your step a bit to catch up with him. You made sure to give V’s arm a light squeeze when you passed, not looking at his face, “What lead you to a life of fighting demons?”

Nero glanced at you, raising a grey-tinted brow at your question.

“What brought that on?” He asked.

You shrugged, clasping your hands behind your back as you replied, “Genuine curiosity. Realized I don’t know jack shit about a lot of you guys.”

Nero gave a short laugh, rolling his shoulders a bit, “Fair enough. It’s a long story though.”

“If you haven’t noticed,” You smiled lightly, staring at the subway stretching before you, “We’ve got time. Bet V is aching to know your backstory.”

“Mmm.” V hummed, stepping up beside you suddenly and brushing your leg with his cane. You tried not to show how much it affected you. You met his sidelong glance with a smile, resisting the urge to touch his face with you hands--you needed to play nice for now, you weren’t going to force Nero to third wheel. Besides, you had asked the white haired boy a question and you were determined to focus on his answer.

Nero let out a low huff, making a face as he thought over your words, deciding how to answer.

“Have you ever heard of the Order of the Sword?” He asked you, turning his blue eyes back to your face.

Your expression blanked in confusion, “Uh...no.”

“Hooo boy. Settle in then, there’s a lot to unpack.”

You talked as you walked, Nero breaking down a lengthy explanation of the Order of the Sword and everything that had happened to him. About the attack on Fortuna, where he first met Dante. You listened with interest, enjoying learning about the world you were living in and all it entailed. According to the white haired boy, the Order of the Sword was secretly becoming demons and doing naughty things in a search for power, which was pretty typical. Demons had attacked Fortuna, and Nero pretty much learned how to fight them while there. A lot had happened--he apparently fought Dante when they first met, but both worked together to stop the attack and stop the Order. Kyrie was saved, the city a bit messed up afterwards but the rebuilding time had been fast.

He also talked wistfully of his life without parents, growing up in an orphanage where he met Credo and Kyrie. Their parents ran the place, and they were very kind to him growing up. You ached for him--growing up without blood family had to be hard, and judging by the bitter edge to his voice it was a stinging wound. But he spoke fondly of the people he did have, telling you about Credo’s death and how Kyrie had been saved. Christ, the boy had been through a lot. Growing up with a strange arm, fighting this order, then recently losing that arm to a mysterious man. Apparently a sword called “Yamato” was inside of it, and now it was gone. Your head was spinning by the time he was done, and you could hardly comprehend all of it.

V was strangely quiet throughout it all, eyes forward and head tilted as he too listened to Nero’s backstory. You couldn’t read the expression he wore there, but he did seem intrigued.

“So let me get this straight,” You said after he relayed some more information, tapping your nails on your chin, “Nico’s father was a part of this organization, but he was an insane, deadbeat asshole?”

“That’s right.” Nero replied, jaw tightening as he remembered the man he described to you.

“And Dante killed him?” Everything was becoming a bit convoluted. Nero had fought her father at some point, which is how he had acquired the Yamato. But Dante...he was the one who later landed the killing blow, destroying the now-demonized father of Nico. According to Nero, the mechanic hated her father anyway, and wasn’t bothered by the fact that Dante was the one to finished him off. Which you could understand.

“Right again.” Nero inclined his head, putting his hands behind his head and stretching a bit.

Wow. That was definitely a lot to take in

“Nero,” You commented after his lengthy explanation, shaking your head a couple times, “If you ever need like...a hug? I will gladly provide.”

He smirked lightly, sticking his hands in his pockets as he tilted his body in your direction, “Gee, I’m touched,” He rolled his eyes a bit, seeming amused, “Don’t worry about me. I think I’m fine without hugs for now. Not the hugging type.”

You chuckled, clasping your hands behind your back again, “Still, thank you for telling me. If feel like we’ve all learned a lot of important things about you.” Nero’s life really made sense, all that bravado and energy came as a direct result of his very existence. You wished he had lived a better life, with parents who cared, but he turned out okay for the most part. Probably due to Kyrie, the woman you were now very eager to meet.

Regardless, you and your group neared another set of stairs. You immediately saw a payphone resting on a nearby wall, just aching to be used. Nero had gone through a few arms, so you weren’t shocked when the demon hunter made his way over, coin in hand. You personally were just happy to check on the mechanic. The daggers were serving you very well, picking up the slack of your energy and making for some very interesting fights. You pulled one out to examine it a bit, facing the payphone as Nero dialed the mechanic. V took up place by the wall, pulling out his poetry book and quietly reading the pages--you had no doubts he already had them memorized. You eyed him a bit while he was distracted, chest squeezing at the way those long fingers flipped the pages so delicately.

His jade eyes slid up, easily catching you in your staring. You blinked, too stubborn to look away. A challenge of sorts. You met his gaze, smiling brightly and tilting your head at the book. He offered a wry smirk in return, holding the book down a little lower so you could get a better look at them. Well, at least he wasn’t secretive about it. You looked over the beautiful cursive, the bright illustrations only slightly faded with time. You wanted to ask him where he got the book, but were unsure if he would answer for whatever reason.

“Hey, I’ve got a job for you.” Nero said on the phone to the mechanic, making both you and V turn.

You didn’t even have time to react--V suddenly grabbed you, pulling you roughly against him when the wall next to you shattered. Nico’s van came within inches of hitting you, practically grazing Nero’s asscheeks as you squeaked, tucked against the poet. Jesus Christ, how the hell had she managed to get into the fucking subway?! You blinked, turning with the two males to stare incredulously at the driver of the van that almost hit you. She had straight up came busting through the wall, not a scratch on the van but rubble from the concrete sliding off her roof and clattering to the floor. You did not appreciate the free heart attack, the theatrics completely outrageous.

Nico opened the window, still holding the phone and smirking a bit as she met your gazes.

“What do y’all need?” She said innocently, hanging up the phone and blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke.

Nero clicked his tongue, simply walking around to the van door and going in. You were still frozen in place, V’s arms sliding from your form, poet taking a step to the slide now the Nico’s searching gaze was on you both. You tried to ignore how his fingertips lingered on your lower back, tracing a gentle line along your spine. Focus. You needed to focus.

“Hey Nico?” You asked, voice acceptably breathless after almost getting hit by a van, “Do you take criticism on your driving yet?”

“Nope,” She replied, giving an only slightly apologetic smile, “Why? Ya got some complaints?”

You sighed lightly, walking over to lean on the side of the van and stare imploringly at her.

“Please,” You stage-whispered, eyes so very tired, “Stop trying to hit us with the van.”

She let out a light laugh at that, reaching out to pat your head. Her hand was a little stained with oil, but you still didn’t pull away. A smile curved your lips, making a face when a bit of tobacco scented smoke met you.

“In my defense, wasn’t trying to hit you,” Nico replied, tapping her fingers on the window’s edge, “Nero? Maybe.”

“I heard that!” The demon hunter shouted from inside the van, sounding appropriately annoyed.

You laughed, pushing off from the vehicle and brushing off some of the dust from the incident. V’s gentle hand suddenly reached out, stroking your shoulders and upper back. You blinked, looking over at him, seeing him wince a bit as the action set up a cloud of more dust. You fought a giggle, but it still slipped out. He was covered in a layer of his own, the stuff looking like snow on his all black clothing. You turned, grabbing him by the sides of his head so you could tug him down. He seemed startled, letting out a light grunt as you ruffled his locks, coughing lightly when a bunch of dust left him. Damn, maybe another shower later was a good idea. You gave him an apologetic look when he lifted his head, seeming absolutely exasperated with the whole situation.

You shared a long look with him, that needy little voice screaming at the back of your head. You tried to ignore it.

“Maybe wearing all black wasn’t the smartest idea,” You told him,shaking your head at all the white and grey powder on his form, “It’s very noticeable.”

He smirked, lifting his book and shaking it a bit.

“I wasn’t anticipating Nico’s...creative methods of travel,” He replied, eyeing the van with a bit of foreboding, “One would suppose I should keep it in mind for next time.”

You giggled again, leaning against the wall next to him. You couldn’t imagine him in anything other than black clothing. An image of him in brighter colors couldn’t form in your brain, but you were sure some domestic clothes would look very good on him. A nice suit and tie, some sweatpants, a tank top. Ahh, there went your imagination. You banished such thoughts before they could fully form, keeping that smile on your face and trying not to show what a misbehaving thinker you were. V’s eyes were still on your face after all. And Nico’s, you just realized. She had watched the whole exchange, eyes narrowed and lips blowing a thick cloud of cigarette smoke. You met her probing looks, giving her an expression that implored her not to say anything.

Almost on cue, Griffon materialized from V’s tattoos, gusting wings sending all the dust flying from your forms. You coughed, holding out an arm so the bird could land, moving his way to your shoulders. Shadow materialized too, weaving between your feet and the poet’s as they let out a low growl. You were both relieved to see them and disappointed. On one hand, you loved them both dearly and enjoyed their company so much, on the other...No more alone time with the poet. You were so limited with what you could do with Griffon there, despite the bird swearing to being your wingman. He was eyeing you both closely, head tilted and golden eyes glinting with curiosity. Oh yeah, he could sense something was up.

“What the fuck just happened?” He squawked, fixated on the shattered wall and settling dust, “You bastards are filthy. I leave for what, ten minutes, and you both have a quick roll in the dirt?”

You rolled your eyes, gripping his talons as you replied, “No, just more of Nico’s property damage.”

Nico let out a snort at that, smothering her cigarette in a nearby ashtray upon finishing it off.

“Not like the place isn’t trashed anyway,” She stated, shrugging her shoulders, “Besides, we’re doin’ a service to the public by goin’ after Urizen, gotta make it to y’all as fast as possible.”

She had a point in there somewhere. But you got the feeling that she, too, had a flare for the over-dramatic.

The mechanic turned back into the van upon hearing Nero’s voice, probably to help the boy with his metal arms. You looked down when Shadow sat at your feet, mighty head resting against your leg and eyes staring at you expectantly. You were so very weak for this cat, they had your heart in those precious paws. Meat was immediately created, given to both the familiars. They had been working hard all day, fighting and working to help you and the poet. If you had enough strength, there were so many abilities of the Void you could use and utilize to help them. At your peak of power, you could summon things from the darkness to distract enemies, take on a shadow-like form and teleport. You hadn’t done that in a very, very long time. It took a long time of training and non-stop missions to reach point, and even then...you still died fighting with all that strength.

The thought made a twinge of pain pass through your head, hand instinctively coming up to rest on your temple. That certainly wasn’t pleasant.

“Are you alright?” V immediately noticed, taking a step closer to you. There was concern in his gaze, those full lips tilted into a frown.

You smiled, closing one eye as you addressed him, “I’m okay,” Not a lie, you technically were alright, “Just the hangover still knocking on my head a bit.” More...of a lie.

“Almost like drinking was a bad idea,” Griffon huffed, snapping his beak by your ear and making you wince, “Got any regrets yet, girlie?”

You beamed, patting the side of his beak, “Nope.”

He snickered at that, making you laugh too. V smiled ruefully, leaning his cane on the wall and crossing his arms. The lazy posture and that gaze reminded you of a jaguar eyeing something to eat. Which was funny, considering Shadow--a big black cat itself--was sitting on your feet making lovey-eyes at you. You made sure to give them all the pats, focus bouncing all over the place. You wanted to focus on V, but Christ, you were gonna sweat. You had to practice some self control, some form of restraint. It was becoming very hard, which was bad considering now Griffon and Shadow were back--you hoped to god Nero hadn’t noticed the tension yet, which seemed likely considering how battle-focused he was. You appreciated that heavily, he also wasn’t the type to say anything either.

Speaking of, he finally exited the van, sporting some brand new devil breakers on his belt. You looked away from the poet, taking a deep breath as you met Nero’s focused eyes.

“Ready to go?” He asked, eyeing the group now that the demons were back, “Oh hey, the chicken came back!”

Griffon puffed up his feathers, narrowing his gaze at the demon hunter as he replied, “Eat shit and die, brat.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you chided, “Can you ladies stop bickering for a few minutes at least?”

Nero, much to your shock, laughed. He turned his back, starting up the stairs with a passing wave at Nico as she took up a spot in the van window again. You did the same, walking in step with V as you blew another kiss to the mechanic. It was time to set off again, unfortunately, but you didn’t mind. But your foresight was already tickling the back of your mind, warnings prickling up even as you finally exited the subway. Blessedly. It was cloudy outside now, but the breeze was nice as it blew over your group, ascending up the subway stairs into a completely obliterated part of the city. This place got hit bad, buildings upturned and absolute chaos all around you. The closer you got to the tree, the worse the damage was; it looked like the apocalypse, absolutely trashed and not a human in sight. Only silence prevailed, dark and eerie and sending chills up your spine.

V came up next to you, looking at all the damage with a strange expression. In fact, there was no emotion on his face, no smile, no anger. But you thought you saw his jaw clench a bit, hand gripping the top of his cane ever so tighter. The destruction bothered him a lot, almost to the point of guilt. You could tell that pretty well of him. Something about the look in his eyes made you reach a hand down and gently squeeze his wrist--a reminder of your support. Sure enough, you could feel his pulse racing, outside not reflecting the obvious turmoil within. You were getting better at reading his emotions, and that pleased you quite a bit.

The poet flickered his gaze to you at the feeling of your hand, clenched jaw relaxing ever so slightly. He slid his hand down into yours, giving it the lightest of squeezes with those delicate fingers of his. You tried not to feel flustered, but your heart was pounding away in your chest with that dumb excitement you always felt. V looked so composed, so calm and collected--that wasn’t fair, was it? You wanted to do something he didn’t expect, wanted him flustered too, but you had no idea what would cause that short of grabbing his ass. Which you would not be doing. Instead, you waited until Nero walked forward, Griffon launching from your shoulders with a low chortle as he flew on ahead to scout a bit. Before V could pull away from you, you pulled his hand up to your lips.

You brushed your lips over his knuckles, making his eyes dart back over to you with a startled expression. You smiled softly, meeting his gaze unflinchingly as you gently kissed his hand. You wanted to distract him from the pain, the guilt, the bad feelings. He swallowed visibly, unfurling his fingers in your grasp slightly as time seemed to stop for you both. His hands truly were beautiful, you couldn’t help it. Mesmerizing, elegant. You kissed his index finger, surprised when he was responsive to that. Much to your absolute delight, that was what triggered a flustered reaction from the poet. You saw his cheeks flush a bit, breath catching with shock a second before his eyes darted to the side, unable to look at you. He put his other hand to his mouth, fingers twitching a bit when you let out a surprised gasp. You were sure he felt your breath on his fingertips.

“You’re blushing…!” You breathed, eyes alight with delight as he tried to look away more, “That’s so cute…!”

“...Y/N.” His tone was mumbled around his hand, his fingers curled back around yours as he started forward, tugging you along before Nero noticed you lagging behind.

You were still beaming, absolute evil coursing through you now. Like you knew his weakness.

“Do you like it when I touch your hands…?” You whispered to him, bumping his shoulder with your own, “Come on, V. A little honesty won’t hurt.”

He said nothing, jaw twitching a bit as he continued forward, hand still over his mouth. Griffon flew back, blinking in shock when he saw V’s face, and you giggling like an idiot. He landed on V’s shoulders this time, an incredulous look in his eyes when the poet shook him off.

“What the fresh fuck did you do, Y/N?” The bird asked in shock, landing on you and shaking out his feathers, “Did you give him a quick blow job while I wasn’t looking? I’ve never seen him look that flustered.”

“Griffon.” V’s tone was low, full of warning, as he pointed his cane at the bird.

He held up his wings defensively, letting out an alarmed squawk now that he was on the sharp end of V’s weapon.

“Cool it, Shakespeare!” He exclaimed, narrowing his eyes and wearing that expression of mirth, “Just stating simple facts. Searching for answers. Sleuthing.”

You smiled innocently, still enjoying the look on V’s face. He was very embarrassed, which made a part of you feel bad. But that other part that had been cock teased by the poet all day was downright gleeful, triumphant even. You squeezed his fingers again, sliding your thumb over his palm gently. You had held his hand before, sure, but not like this. Fingers entwined, squeezing his digits--that was all pretty simple. Now you were trying to get a rise out of him, trailing your nail gently over his soft skin and gauging his reactions. He immediately jolted again, jerking you closer to him and making you release a surprised squeak.

He put his lips to your ear, saying in a breathy hiss, “If you can’t behave yourself, little sparrow,” His breath felt very hot, lips brushing you just enough to make your own face feel warm--not that the implications in his tone weren’t enough, ”You’re going to make me do something that will get us both in trouble with Nero.”

Thank nickname...it made your heart speed up considerably.

You shivered again, not caring if Griffon saw at this point--because the bird was definitely watching, like you two were some juicy soap opera. The jig was up, he was already well aware of your shenanigans and lust by that point. You and the poet were now pushing each other, bit by bit, in a contest to see who caved first. And you now had a fun card up your sleeve, knowing that he liked when you touched his hands was so much fun. You never noticed it before, because before you hadn’t been looking, things hadn’t been this charged. You felt incredibly bold now, oh so eager to see just how far you could tempt him. But he was right--Nero was still here, oblivious to your exchange, that or he was politely not acknowledging it.

Still, you smiled softly, letting go of V’s hand and blowing him a small kiss. You skipped forward to catch up with Nero, leaving the poet to contain himself a bit and get his bearings. In the meantime, you looked at your surroundings, taking in what seemed to be a destroyed opera house in the near distance. It looked like it was beautiful once, ornate, with carved gold on their pillars and beautiful hand painted art pieces. It was a shame, really--it seemed like this city had a lot of wonder to it before the whole incident, stories to tell and memories to be made.

“I bet it was beautiful here before,” You commented to Nero quietly, walking step by step with him. Concern was in your gaze, mixed with a hint of regret, “Wish I could have seen it.”

Nero grunted quietly in agreement, resting his blue eyes on you.

“Never been to Redgrave before?” He asked.

You shook your head, running your attention around the disaster again, “No. Not exactly from this area,” Not exactly from this dimension, more like, “I was...traveling here to see it when the calamity happened.”

Griffon flew up behind you, landing on your shoulders as you walked. You could see his gaze on you, a knowing look in those eyes as he more than likely recalled everything you spilled during your drinking frenzy. He knew damn well now that you hadn’t been here long before that, and that you had done no such traveling. But he, luckily, kept his mouth shut, starting to preen his feathers with a low sigh only you could hear. You appreciated his discretion.

“Damn shame,” Nero said with a low sigh, slowing as you approached the opera house’s remains. He pointed at it, a small smile passing over his space as he added, “My girl sang there once...Kyrie’s voice it beautiful, you would have loved it.”

The affection in his voice, that obvious adoration…every time he mentioned Kyrie, he went adorably soft.

You gave a soft smile, giggling a bit. Nero was a big, bad demon hunter. All rough and tumble, taunting and powerful in the face of battle. It was so interesting to see him settle down a bit, his expression losing that edge, taking on that remembering look as he thought of the person he loved. It was so precious, wholesome even. You didn’t even know Kyrie, but you were already damn well prepared to put yourself in harms way to preserve whatever it was they had.

Nero blinked at you when you still didn’t reply, raising his brow as he asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” You shook your head, giving him a sidelong smile, “It’s just cute. Seeing people who are as much in love as you is a rare treat, Nero. Don’t ever change that.”

He seemed surprised by your words, but you only got the back end of his expression as you turned to check on V again. The poet was catching up, skin tone normal and eyes meeting yours with that familiar, reserved smirk. Ohhh, someone had found his composure again--and much to V’s luck, since Nero was paying attention now, no more hand holding. Which meant you would be forced to behave.

You reasoned that this was a good thing--Your foresight was slowly growing louder, alerting you of some big, bad enemies up ahead. You snapped your fingers to get Nero’s attention once more, both men turning to look at you as you pointed at the ruins of the opera.

“Something is waiting for us,” You warned, summoning some tendrils just as a precaution, “So be ready, we’re going to have a fight on our hands.”

Nero simply smirked, cracking the knuckles on his left hand and starting forward with confidence. You sighed--well, at least you had tried to warn him. V seemed to sense your exasperation, giving you a wry smirk and squeezing your shoulder as he followed the eager demon hunter, signalling that you should too. That was probably the most wise course of action. Shadow materialized in front of your group, Griffon perching in his favorite spot on your shoulders. Both seemed ready for battle, Shadow’s pelt rippling and glowing marks traveling over the black surface of their body. Griffon was charged up too, the sensation of his energy crackling in your ear a bit. You didn’t mind at all.

You heard V let out a low hum, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“Be on your toes,” His voice was a low purr, “And if you feel close to exerting, take shelter nearby. Griffon will know to grab you.”

You hesitated, hating the idea of leaving him behind in danger to save yourself. You also hated the idea of Griffon prioritizing you over him.

But still, you nodded.

V was not convinced, stopping you from following Nero and adding, “Swear to me, Y/N. No invocations, you prioritize yourself.”

“...Promise.” You mumbled, hating how it felt to do so. Choosing yourself over others felt so wrong, but you couldn’t argue with him when he used a tone like that. Those jade eyes fixed on your own gaze, lips parted and hand touching your cheek. You couldn’t deny him.

Your answer made that wry, cocky smile appear. As if he knew the effect he had over you. He turned away, letting his hand drop as he turned to follow Nero into the abandoned opera house. Fuck, you had a weird feeling about this, but what else could you do? Your foresight was signalling a much stronger enemy, but there was no convincing Nero not to rush headfirst into a fight. You followed behind V, summoning your tendrils as you all stepped over the threshold into the abandoned building. You had to climb over a pile of rubble, landing in what looked to be the main theater, or at least what was left of it.

The box seats were still somehow standing on high walls, mere inches from toppling over.It was beautiful at a time, the floor made of carved, intricate stone and ornate seating tossed here and there. It seemed clear of enemies, but you knew better. Always knew better. Something was here, waiting for anyone to pass through and attack. The area, luckily, had plenty of areas for you to attach your tendrils to, making for safe movement based fighting for you. You could pepper down attacks at random to whatever appeared, using your daggers to hit and Void powers to fly away when needed. Now it was only a matter of what breed of nasty would appear to your cue.

Right on time.

Almost sensing your thoughts, something big and mean looking hopped down from a high ledge, landing in front of your group. All three of you stopped, staring at this creature with varying expressions. It was humanoid in appearance, but most certainly a demon. Long, red glowing horns extended from a head without eyes, yet you knew it was staring at you. It looked like it was wearing armor, definitely a hefty sword-wielding demon man. The inside of its mouth was glowing blue, face expressionless as it face your group--he was certainly an intimidating looking creature, but nothing your group couldn’t handle, right? At least so you thought. Before you could open your mouth, four more came walking out on either side of the intimidating creature, only these had blue horns and looked lower level than the main baddie. They were wielding shields as well as swords, which was a bit of a concern in your opinion.

You glanced at Nero, and as expected he wore that cocky, battle-eager grin. He didn’t seemed bothered at all. You tilted your gaze to the poet, expecting him to be wearing that same swarmy, half smile you so adored. Ready to toss out a poetry quote, right? At least so you thought. The expression he wore...was not one you expected.

He looked…angry.

Several emotions shifted across his face, varying in intensity as you desperately tried to get a read on him. You were sure you saw realization, then discomfort, fear, and then settling on a quiet rage you had never seen on his face before. And...familiarity. You couldn’t place it, nor understand it. You simply stared in shock, unable to speak as he stepped up beside Nero, grabbing his cane with one hand and pressing the other to his temple. You exchanged a look with Griffon, seeing that same knowing look in his eyes as he met your gaze. He shook his head at you, letting out a low, nervous trill as he launched from your shoulders and circled overhead.

“Ohhoo, nice,” Nero laughed, gesturing between all the creatures casually, like they were old friends, “Gettin’ the band back together, huh?”

You worriedly glanced at V, a chill going up your spine as he spoke. One of both fear, and extreme intrigue. Seeing him mad was both alarming and exciting.

“What evil lurks…” He said in a low growl, lifting his eyes up to the demons, “I must destroy.”

Nero let out a low snort, pulling out his gun and smirking at the creatures.

“Thought that was the plan all along…!”

You opened your mouth to reply to them both, but the whole building lurched. You fell forward with an alarmed cry, catching yourself on one hand and knee as everything started shaking. The entire structure began to move and tremble, sliding forward with you and everyone else on it. You jerked your head to look behind you, seeing the opera stage detach from the building and leaving it in the distance, moving fast down an incline and still somehow staying in one piece. Completely absurd, absolutely insane. Wind whipped past you, some stray pieces of debris and rock whizzing past close enough to graze you. Yet Nero and V still faced forward, absolutely focused as the fight began.

Fuck.

You summoned your tendrils, trying to find your sense of balance as Nero shot forward, leveling his sword on the bigger of the creatures. V, opposite in fighting style, stepped back. He lifted his book of poems, reading from it as the wind pressure sent his hair waving wildly about his face. He still wore that cold expression, and you knew there would be no getting him to back down. So you provided support.

You wrapped your tendrils around him, whipping one out at a creature trying to get closer. It his his shield, sending him flying in Nero’s direction. The boy dodged easily, firing bullets into its head one after the other. Griffon was keeping low, desperately trying not to get blown away and keeping up with the fighting. How he managed, you’d never know. Still, you wrapped tendrils around him too, keeping him secure in the fighting area with all of you. He seemed grateful, providing backup fire for Shadow on the ground. The mighty cat was digging in its claws, roaring over the rush of sound and battle as it attacked with deadly spikes.

Another one of those creatures came for V, so you darted to his side, wrapping a tendril around its wrist and whipping more tendrils at its shield. It didn’t even flinch, taking the knockback and trying to swing its sword at you. V whipped his cane around, blocking the attack in one fell clang of metal. God, there was so much going on at that moment, you didn’t know what to keep track of. You were terrified of someone getting knocked off, but V needed to be protected. And yet, he was still keeping an eye on you, protecting you. It made your heart race, adrenaline pumping faster now as you sent of a flurry of tendrils, slicing the creature over and over and sending it rolling away.

“This is totally unsafe…!” You shouted at the two boys, who seemed pretty indifferent to the whole situation.

Nero let out a light laugh, hurling a demon away from him as he winked at you, “Don’t worry kid, you’ll get used to it!” He punched another creature with his metal arm, sending it flying away in an explosion of hot metal. One arm broken, it would seem.

You weren’t sure you wanted to get used to it.

Another piece of debris came flying off the front of the opera stage. V grabbed you, yanking you to the ground just as it passed overhead. You glanced up in enough time to see a demon raising a sword over you, using your tendrils to send you and V sliding away from each other just as the metal clanged down on stone. Christ, that was way too close. You met V’s gaze with a concerned one of your own, worried that maneuvers like that would accidentally fling him off at some point. He let out a slow breath, rising to his feet and snapping his fingers. Alarm filled you, brain wondering how the hell Nightmare would land on the sliding death trap.

He didn’t have to, the portal opening to the side and sending him bowling over the group of demons. Nero let out a light laugh, hoping out of the way and narrowly avoiding being crushed. Jesus christ. The structure shuddered and groaned at the extra weight, more dirt and rocks pattering past. You felt a couple scratch your face, but the pain was irrelevant at that moment. You saw two of the demons get finished off by Nero, but that big one was heading toward V.

Both boys looked at it, Nero launching himself with his devil breaker to slam it face first into the ground. Nightmare sent a line of laser behind him, targeting the remaining demons with vigor and readying them for death. V shot past you, cane in hand. He swung around, slamming it into the chest of one staggering demon, then whipped it around to impale it in the head of the other. The look on his face concerned you, no longer the level-headed look of the poet you’d seen all week. He looked...displeased, to say the least. Like there was a foul taste in his mouth. Something about this particular breed of demon was not settling well with him, and you wished you knew why.

Before you could give it any real though, Nero began finishing off the final creature.

As he stabbed his sword into the demon’s chest, the structure around you began to shudder more, rumbling filling the air as you jerked your gaze up. You could see a cliffs edge nearing at high speeds up ahead, just as the opera stage began to crumble apart from the stress of sliding down such a steep incline. You lost your balance, landing hard on your side even as your tendrils whipped out in a flurry of activity. Mind drawn to several places at once. V, reaching toward you and Griffon latching onto him, Nero looking up from the demon’s corpse. You latched onto them both, using the tendrils to launch you group up and back out of the stage, onto the cliff just as it went crashing down below.

You landed on your feet, falling back with a low huff of air as V came to a stumbling halt beside you, and Nero in front of you. Nightmare had returned to his master’s hair again, and Griffon and Shadow had apparently returned as well.

And you? You took some time to catch your breath.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/43249853

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Tagged: @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress

[delia-pavorum]

#38 + university enemies turned lovers AU please!

Prompt #38 AKA “You want to explain the drunk voicemail you left me last night?” They weren’t exactly enemies and they don’t quite reach lovers, but—well, just read it. 

Enjoy!

The buzzing woke her up.

It was incessant, like a mosquito flying around her ear. Or drilling into her brain.

With an audible groan, Rey threw her arm out towards her bedside table, hitting a (luckily empty) glass of water, her eight-dollar IKEA lamp, and a small dish of loose change, before grasping the instrument of torture that had awoken her from what she assumed was only her third hour of sleep. Glancing at the time as she clicked her screen, she confirmed that this was, indeed, the case.

Groaning again, she blearily focused on the message preview that assaulted her senses as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of her dorm room. In her periphery, she could see Rose shifting in her bed, before letting out a soft snore and continuing her slumber. Lucky bitch.

You want to explain the drunk voicemail you left me last night?

Rey did a double take and peered more closely at the message before glancing up at the name.

Ben History.

Ben? History? Ben Hist— Fucking TA BEN?

“Oh, my godddd.” Her third groan of the morning turned into a long, drawn-out, verbalized moan as she died a little inside.

Fucking TA Ben.

Professor Snoke’s assistant from her Russian History elective last semester and - she was convinced - the reason she passed that course. Though, admittedly, it wasn’t as if he had outwardly shown any sort of inclination or preference towards her in any way.

Not in tutorial, when he looked down his nose at whatever question she asked and answered with a barely stifled sigh preceding any dialogue.

Not in class, and particularly not when Professor Snoke had reamed her out in front of the entire lecture hall for falling asleep with her head in her hand (thank you job number two, the night shift at the university pub) and he had just sat there in the corner, barely adjusting his glasses as he read over papers.

And not outside of class, where she never saw him. Ever.

No, it was a fact. Mr. Solo AKA Ben History AKA TA Ben was a dick. For all intents and purposes, he had never for even a second belied anything less than purely professional - and for the most part barely cursory - interest in her.

Except for her papers.

Ben Solo was a notoriously hard marker. Rose and Finn had devised the idea of taking Russian History, instead of the more popular Sociology courses, the previous year (yeah, Rey was late on the uptake with her humanities electives, what of it) and had subsequently bitched about TA and professor both; but Rey, always up for a challenge (some may call it pigheaded, willfully ignorant, inability to learn from her mistakes or the mistakes of others—) decided to give it a shot, too. Just to prove she could.

Ha.

Twenty-page research papers on the rise of Moscow, the destruction of the Soviet Union, the Cold War. End notes, works cited, bloody footnotes to her footnotes. It had been pure torture. But she had worked her ass off on each and every one and, in the end, had reaped the benefits.

Er, somewhat. While her peers were receiving grades of Cs and lower, she was coming out with Bs and the occasional B+. The comments were standard, mostly critical: arguments she could have improved on, syntax issues, exclusion of the Oxford comma (who bloody cared about the Oxford fucking comma), and so on. But then, in the end, the same line every time, scrawled in a haphazard cursive, the letters flowing together in a pleasingly desultory way:

A pleasure to read.

Those four words did something to her. She, who could count the kind words she’d received in her lifetime on her fingers and toes with socks on, who had always been the kid that nobody expected much of, who had always - at most - gotten a blinking, surprised: “Oh. Well done.” when she had accomplished anything in an above-average way, had felt a little sparkle of pleasure every time she got the bottom of the last page and saw that line.

And, since her childhood abandonment issues all but guaranteed a fucked up, overcompensatory response to anyone who showed her even a modicum of attention or kindness, she had obviously developed a monster crush.

In short, Ben Solo had ended up being the one good part of a shitty class. He marked her fairly and, as a bonus, was nice to look at and listen to and imagine all the filthy things she’d like to—

Oh god. Oh god. What had the voicemail said?

With shaky hands, she opened up the message and read it over again five times.

Drunk voicemail. Drunk voicemail.

Why couldn’t she remember calling him? All TAs had their phone numbers at the top of the syllabus along with their email address and office hours, but as far as she knew, nobody had actually called one. At the beginning of the semester, around the time she had gotten her first paper back from him, she had plugged the number into her phone - just in case - giving him the surname History to denote her association with him (the same way fellow contacts were Rose Roomie, BFFinn, and The Douchebag, a friend-by-association that Finn had recently become infatuated with).

As to why she couldn’t remember calling him—

The answer, if her pounding head wasn’t enough evidence, manifested further as Rose loudly snored again and rolled over, smacking her lips together and mumbling to herself.

They had gotten wasted last night. End of semester finals plus “We’re losing Finn to Poe” blues plus impromptu Girls’ Night plus plus plus, and she had ended up puking in the garbage cans outside their building while Rose cheered her from behind like garbage can puking was an Olympic event and Rey was on her way to a gold medal. (Which, for the record, she would have won).

She must have made the call at some point during the later part of the evening, but before the vomiting, when she was already three Jagerbombs deep, plus countless tequila shots and some whipped cream monstrosity called a blow job or a muff dive or some other, equally vulgar and heinous name–

Practically frozen in terror, she scrolled through her recent calls.

Fuuuuuck.

Sure enough, right at the top. Ben History. Three- no four times dear god. At 3:06, 3:07, 3:10, and 3:22 (ah, yes, Rey, a twelve-minute gap. Make him work for it, as they say.)

Did she leave four voicemails? Just the one? Somewhere in between? What did they say? What did they say?

“Kill me,” she prayed to the ceiling. “Please. Just do it. Kill me now so I don’t have to deal with this, ever, in my godforsaken life.”

I’ll do you one better, God responded, probably, because instead of being struck by lighting, a call came through.

Ben History.

She laughed mirthlessly up at the ceiling - still maintaining your track record with me, eh ol’ boy. Glad some things don’t change - before scowling as she looked down at the name on her buzzing phone. Might as well get this shit over with.

She rushed out into the hallway to answer so she wouldn’t wake-up Rose. The corridor was completely empty - it was only just past seven A.M. after all and it’s not as if her and Rose were the only college students on campus who had the bright idea of drinking to celebrate the end of Finals - and Rey answered as she continued to walk through the dead hallway and out the door.

“Hi,” she said, mournfully. Too late for pretences now, anyway.

“Oh.” The responding deep voice sent an inadvertent shiver through her body. “I actually wasn’t expecting you to be awake.”

“Yeah.” Rey stepped out into the cool, misty April morning air, briefly regretting her decision to not grab a sweater as goosebumps rose up on her bare arms and legs. “Your, er, text woke me up.” The panic and humiliation spiral immediately afterwards also helped shake off the remnants of sleep. I may never sleep again, in fact.

“Right. Well, I thought you’d want to know—”

“Listen,” Rey cut him off, partially for fear of whatever he had to say and partially to say her own piece before he could verbally eviscerate her and/or threaten her scholarship and the progression of her degree or whatever else happened to errant, drunken students who called their former TAs and left explicit voicemails. “I’m sorry I called you and said all that shit, I was completely wasted. I know it was wildly inappropriate. And it’s not like—” Fuck, what are some of the insane things I probably said? “—I mean, you’re obviously very attractive and tall and built and I mean, yeah, you’ve got unbelievably good shoulders and I’m sure I brought up the fantasy of you carrying me in your arms shirtless, but the truth is—”

“Rey.”

Her name out of his mouth brought her up short. In tutorial she had been—what, Ms. Johnson? Or usually just nothing. A nod or “yes, you” in the general vicinity of where she was sitting. He knew her name?

“You know my name?” Smooth.

An abbreviated sigh. Ah, yes. If there were ever any doubt as to who was on the other end of the line, this telltale moderation of his annoyance eliminated it completely.

“I know your name,” he confirmed. “And the voicemail you left me didn’t say anything about my—“ A pause. “—shoulders.” Another pause. Rey’s skin began to get that prickly feeling that usually preceded the wash of utter mortification coursing through one’s body. “In fact, you barely said anything at all. After I picked up my phone the fourth time it started ringing at three A.M.—” Ah, yes, hello humiliation, my old friend, she thought at the liquid heat spreading through her limbs, “—at first all I could hear was indecipherable yelling and then someone loudly singing the chorus of ‘Living on a Prayer’.”

“Oh, god.” Her horror manifested in the loudest groan conceivable at this revelation. Pieces of the night were starting to filter in now, penetrating the haze of her hangover- and humiliation-induced migraine.

“I almost hung up, but then you came on the line. Initially I couldn’t understand you, but then you said something about me being the bright spot to a shitty class and how you loved being my pleasure—”

Rey hiccuped in despair. Why couldn’t she have just talked about his shoulders?

“—Which I didn’t quite understand. But then you said—” He paused again, almost as though he needed to gather his thoughts, and Rey held her breath at the infinite possibilities of self-inflicted degradation that were to come, “—you moved to a quieter area and you said thank you to me for making you feel worthy. You said it felt nice to know that your efforts weren’t for nothing.”

Cool. Cool cool cool. They still had engineering programs in Siberia, right? She wondered if her scholarship was transferable. Fuck it. I’ll just move to Florida. Maybe a crocodile will eat me.

Grasping at straws, Rey responded, “You know, I actually don’t remember any of that. I think maybe I didn’t call you at all. Maybe it was my friend Rose playing a prank or—”

He cut her off: “At the end you said ‘by the way, this is Rey Johnson.” Fuck. “And, regardless, I recognized your voice.”

Hey, now. He did?

“You did?” Uggghh.

Silence.

“Okay, er,” Rey began as the silence stretched out to unbearable lengths, “well. It is true that I liked your comments - your final comment, always - on my papers. It is also true that I like your shoulders. I’m not sure who told you anything about carrying me shirtless—”

“You said that.”

“Regardless of how these rumours get spread,” she continued through gritted teeth, “I sincerely apologize for calling you at such an obscene time, er, repeatedly, and also for assaulting your ears with Bon Jovi and the drunken ramblings of a psychologically-damaged pseudo-adult—”

“I liked your papers, Rey,” Ben interrupted and, for the first time, he sounded a bit - thawed. Unsure. Not warm, exactly, but not really holding back either. “You were the only one who got that comment at the end and I meant it. That course is—I mean, it’s two hundred-level, but with no prerequisite and we get a lot - a lot - of students who just couldn’t give a shit. And I know History isn’t your program and that you probably just took it to fill an elective, but I—” A pause and an inhale. Then: “I’m glad you did.”

Rey thankfully stopped herself just short of responding “You are?” and instead, a little breathlessly, answered: “Me, too.”

“Your efforts weren’t for nothing,” he added, quietly. “Not to me.”

“Oh, Ben.” It was the first time she had said his name out loud and she heard his breath catch slightly.

“Where are you right now?” he asked, his voice a touch hoarse.

“Uhh…” She looked around at the outside of her building, noting ruefully the garbage can that likely still held her vomit. “I’m just outside my dorm. In my pajamas.” She involuntarily shivered as she once again became aware of the damp coolness of the morning air, now that the steam of mortification had waned a bit.

He clucked lightly under his breath, mother-henning ever so slightly, and the warmth came back. “It’s cool out, you should get dressed. And then maybe—” He broke off.

“And then maybe what?” she breathed, feeling her cheeks flush.

“Well, you’re still a student, but I’m not your TA anymore and technically I’m a student, too, although I’m much - like a lot - older, but maybe—”

“But maybe what?” she urged, unable to stop the smile from splitting her face.

“Maybe we can grab a coffee or something?” he finished in a rush. “We don’t have to talk about Russian History.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Rey deadpanned.

Ben huffed out a laugh. “In fact, let’s talk about anything but Russia.”

“Or Bon Jovi,” Rey added, chagrined.

“Or my shoulders.”

“Hey, now,” Rey protested. “Let’s not be too hasty.” He let out a genuine laugh and she couldn’t help but laugh in return.

“So.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “What do you say? Is it a date?”

“Oh, Mr. Solo.” She grinned back at him, hoped he could hear it, too, loud and clear. “It would be my pleasure.”

now what? –> see all my prompt fills | fic master post | ask me anything

[takeachanceff]

Chapter 22: Answer (Sequel Changes)

Rocko

I ran to a to a room, it was filled with boxes. I tiptoed inside looking for a phone. I then heard a voice and I went behind a stack of boxes. "That nigga is crazy man" one guy said. I didn't move as two people walked passed the boxes I was behind.

"Look we just get paid don't worry bout him tonight we hitting this bank" the other said.

"Everything all set for that?" He asked.

"Yeah just follow my lead" the other stated. My heart was beating very very fast. I'm scared but mommy needs my help. I gotta find the phone. The two guys left and I kept crawling on the floor, until I froze in my tracks seeing a giant spider. My eyes got wide. I dont like spiders...

Flashback

Me and mommy were playing in the back yard. I went up to go down the slide. Mommy wad waiting for me at the bottom, "Come on Roc I got you" she said with a smile. I took a deep breath and went down the slide and I fell into her arms. She kissed my face before chuckling before putting me down. "See it now that wasn't bad, now was it?" she asked and I shook my head no. My leg felt weird and I made a face. Mommy looked at me "What's wrong sweetie?" she asked.

"My leg" I said ready to cry and she looked at my leg. Mommy looked at my leg and saw the spider "Oh it's a spider" she said picking it up showing me. "NOO!" I said to her crying.

"It's okay honey there's nothing to be afraid of" she said but I cried. "I don't want it" I whined.

"Rodney" she said and I looked at her. "As long as I'm here nothing can hurt you" she put the spider on the ground.

"He gone?" I asked.

"Yes baby, it's gone but the world isn't as scary as it looks. Let me tell you a secret" she said and I looked at her.

"I get scared too when I'm up too high" she said.

"Mommies don't get scared of everything" I said and she smiled.

"Mommies get scared we just don't show it because we have to be brave. I get scared, but I faced my fear it's okay to be but don't let it control you" she said.

"Okay" I said.

"Okay" she said smiling making the tears go away.

[End of Flashback] 

I move passed the spider. I see another room it has a chair in it and it has a phone. I looked around no one is here. I tiptoed into the room and dialed 911.

"911 what is your emergency?" the lady asked.

"Um my mommy is hurt and my dad is too" I said.

"Okay sweetie, where is your mommy and daddy?" she asked.

"In a room" I said.

"Okay and can you tell me where you are?" she asked.

"No" I said.

"Okay sweetie stay on the phone with me until help gets there okay?" she said. 

Somewhere in Central California

Marriott Hotel 11:24pm PT

Aaliyah

After hours of driving around trying to figure out where Trey could be, we decided to stay at hotel for the night. In separate rooms of course. I got myself settled and decided to take a quick shower. I walked inside the bathroom that was built for royalty. The sink handles were made of pearl white with the H and C letters written in golden cursive. I headed over to the shower to turn on the water to the temperature that's comfortable for me. Striping out of my clothing I checked the water before stepping in. The hot water hitting against my brown skin relaxed me. I lathered the soap between my hands before washing my body. I finished up then I went  to rinse off before turning the shower water off. Once I was dressed I got comfortable on the bed, before I took my phone out to FaceTime my mom so I can check on Mia. 

"Hello?" My mother answered the phone.

"Hey mom how's everything?" I asked with a small smile.

"Everything is going how are you ? You look exhausted sweetheart, you had a long day? "she asked.

"Yeah it's been a long day and tomorrow might be longer it depends but I'll be fine. How's my baby doing?" I asked with a smile.

"She's asleep she's doing great" she replied. "How's umm dad?" I asked.

She looked away from the camera for a moment, then she looked back at me. "He's alright"

"Just alright?" I asked.

"It's not looking good honey but we're making the best of it" she said trying to smile. I sighed and shook my head. I felt bad about everything I said to my father but it was the truth. I was so fed up with how he's treated me all of my life. I could've worded it better but how else was I supposed to say how I felt without getting angry? "I'm sure things will turn around" I said in a hopeful tone. She smiled at me and remained silent. I never understood why my mother loved a man like my father? She's so sweet and caring and he's such an ass-

That's sound oddly familiar...

People could ask me the same question: Why do you love Trey so much? He's a player, he's an asshole, he's not who he says he is. People don't see the things that I do. The things he tells me when we're alone when the cameras are gone. How he interacts with Mia, you can't fake those moments. I guess my mom sees something in my father that I will never understand. "Mom?" I said gaining her attention.

"Yes?" she answered looking into the camera.

"You don't have to answer this but, are you still in love with dad?" I asked before biting my lip nervously waiting for her answer. She sighed before speaking "No, I'm not in love with your father anymore, but I still care about him very much. It pains me seeing him in so much pain because of the bond we share. I know it's hard for you to understand because of what he's put you through, but your father wasn't like the man you grew up with. He was kind, caring, and such a gentle giant. After we split things became a little difficult, and your aunt didn't like that I was able to give him children and she couldn't. There's a lot of things you don't know Aaliyah. You're grown now and we can talk about them if you want" she said and I looked at her confused.

"Wait Aunt Diane could never get pregnant?" I asked and my mom shook her head no. "Remember I told you that her and I got pregnant around the same time?" she asked.

"Yeah?" I answered getting more comfortable on the bed.

"I found out I was pregnant with you and I decided to call your father and tell him the news. I wasn't honest with you when I said that your father wasn't too thrilled about another child. Actually, he was more than happy about it but when Diane found out she wasn't as excited to hear about you" she said scrunching causing me to scrunch face up. "Your aunt threatened to sell the story to the press and it would have ruined so much. She told your father to convince me to get an abortion or even put you up for adoption. Your father and I wanted to neither option but she was about to sell the story but your father intervened telling me he would take you. However, he didn't tell me the conditions you would be put in" she said.

"So you're him almost trying to kill me most of my life was to protect you?" I asked.

"I don't excuse any of that at all, after the beating that out you in the hospital and I came to get you. Your father called me at the hospital crying about what he had did to you. Everything he did he felt guilty" she said.

"But it doesn't explain why he kept going through with even when after I was an adult. He not only disowned me but his granddaughter ma I can't forgive that. You can say whatever you want about me but my child is a whole different story. Mom I get what he did for you but what he did to me I don't think I can move past it and Aunt Diane is just as bad as he is" I stated. My mother nodded listening to my words. I won't lie to you I was little pissed about the crazy shit my mom did for her career made me look at her sideways. I get it being a musician is demanding but I could never sacrifice the mental state of my daughter. I love my mom a lot but this whole situation with my family has gotten out of control.

"Liyah, I wish I could get you to understand everything that happened over the years" my mother said. Before I could speak again a knock on the door took my attention. "Hold on ma" I said putting my phone down heading to the door.  I looked through the peep hole to see who it was, and it was on Nick. I unlocked the door and opened it before greeting him. "Hey what's up?" I asked.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Uh sure" I said moving aside letting him in.

I followed him toward the bedroom and he sat in the chair across the bed. I sat on the bed picking up my phone "Hey mom I'll call you tomorrow to check on you guys" I said.

"Okay baby good night" my mother said.

"Good night" I said before hanging up. I put my phone on the nightstand before giving my attention to Nick. "What's going on?" I asked sitting Indian style.

"Look I wanna talk to you about some stuff" he said.

"Oh great more bullshit, what happened?" I asked.

"Well it's about Trey" he started before leaning forward.

"This whole thing with him going missing and the stuff with the house. He told me not to tell you but since we here I might as well tell you everything. You know he working for Bishop right?" he asked.

"Yeah, he told me after someone threw a brick at our window why?" I said shrugging.

"He's been doing this longer than that, at you guys wedding he told me he was gonna keep the stocks up from his drug cartel overseas. He couldn't just walk away from it he's been the big dog behind the scenes. Trey has been able to keep it under wraps all this time was because he no longer does the ground work" Nick admitted to me.

I didn't say a word I was so pissed off I couldn't think straight. Trey couldn't be honest with me AGAIN. I started laughing causing Nick to look at me confused. "So you're sitting here telling me that my husband has been running, an entire drug empire behind my back for the past two years?" I asked.

"Uh yeah" Nick said.

"Hmm okay so there's a possibility that you know where he is?" I asked folding my arms.

"I think I have an idea" he mumbled.

"You two are fucking unbelievable! Trey's been lying to me for the last two years of our marriage! You've been dragging me on this damn this wild goose chase all day I could kill the both of you!" I yelled standing up.

"Liyah look I'm so-" he started but I cut him off.

"No fuck that tell me where Trey is!" I demanded, and he sighed.

"Aight there's a possibility he might be in Ecuador" he said.

"Ecuador?" I repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah" he said. I ran my hand down my face trying to register everything. "Your booking us a flight there now" I said.

"Liyah that's dangerous" he said.

"Nick I swear to God if you don't book it I'm booking it myself" I said through the grit of my teeth. He sighed and stood up "Okay Liyah I'll do it" he finally gave in.

"Now you can please leave" I said annoyed.

"Yeah" he headed towards the door and left.

I sat on my bed and I tried not to cry.

Who the fuck did I marry?

[The Next Morning]

Trey

I've been in this hole for lord knows how long. My body is sore and I miss my wife and kid. I really fucked up this time there was no way out for me this time. "Get up pretty boy" a voice said. The brightness of the sun made me yell in pain "FUCK!" I yelled covered my eyes. I felt someone grab me before they dropped me on the ground. "I never thought I see the day when you squirm. I won" He said before laughing. "I won I wonder what that beautiful wife of yours has to say when she sees you six feet under. You know what I got a better idea your daughter calling me daddy huh?" he stated smirking. I tried to get up but I felt someone push me back to ground. "I'mma kill you nigga" I stated.

"I'll like to see you try" he said smirking.