#i mean. nobody else really knew him but dante

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairing: 10k x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and brains

Chapter: 5.06

After bringing the quad bike to a complete stop when you spot a deserted-looking warehouse, 10k jumps off the back first, and immediately you’re missing the warmth of his arm wrapped around your waist. With the sling of his gun over his shoulder, he offers you his hand to help you climb off. If 10K wasn’t a gentleman before, people would probably be catching onto how protective he was being.

You, 10K, Warren, Murphy, and Addy had gone to find the source of bizkit’s and why they seemed to be low rations of it, while Doc and George headed back to Altura to keep an eye on Dante’s trial.

“Is that the bakery? The place looks abandoned.”

“It doesn’t mean nobody is home,” Warren points out.

The five of you stand on the edge of a small hill that leads down to the pathway into the building. The side of the hill was mainly covered in rubble, preventing any vehicles from driving on it.

Murphy looks lost in thought; a look of distress appears on his face. You lightly hit his arm to gain his attention. “Are you okay?”

“I smell brains.”

“This must be the place, then.”

When the five of you started making your way down the path, you were being extra cautious not to trip while walking on such a rocky surface. 10k stays in front of you and continues to glance back, ready to catch you if you do fall.

Murphy walks by you at a normal pace and scoffs, “You two make me feel sick.”

“Just keep walking, Alvin.”

“My biggest fear is losing you. When you were kidnapped, I realized how much I loved you and that there was nothing I wouldn't do to find you,” Murphy says mockingly. “You're my best friend, Tommy, and there's not a line I wouldn't cross to keep you safe.”

10k glares at him and warningly snaps, “Shut the hell up.”

Addy, who’s standing at the bottom, already looks up in confusion. “What is he talking about?”

“Nothing.”

In a high-pitched fake girly voice, Murphy says, “I knew our fates were intertwined.“

“I swear to god!” You knew Murphy was looking for a reaction, and usually you wouldn’t take the bait too easily, but he had been teasing you since you left for this new task.

“Don’t get wound up; he’s not worth the reaction,” 10k says calmly, but as soon as you reach the bottom where the others are waiting, he presses the long side of his rifle against Murphy’s collarbone, pushing him into the wall. “Lay the fuck off Murphy.”

“Jeez, lighten up, kid.”

10k steps back.

Warren clicks her fingers. “All of you, focus.”

Once you checked, nobody else was in sight. You round the corner, and Addy breaks the lock on the door, giving you all access to the building.

—

The inside of the building stinks of rotten meat, which is explained when you find human skulls and parts of rotten brains scattered across various baking trays.

The group had split up, but you could see both Addy and 10k going to check out the same area. It saddened you that they no longer had a close relationship, and you felt partially responsible for it, but then it was your sister who left. Since they last saw each other, Addy had lost an eye, and 10k had lost his hand, and they could have leaned on each other for support.

“Astra, I’m really sorry, but it looks like she left during the night.”

You shake your head, refusing to believe it. “No, no. Something is wrong; Addy wouldn’t just go without leaving me. She wouldn’t do that.”

When you awoke in the morning to find Addy gone, you assumed she had gone hunting, but when she never returned, a couple of hours later, you, 10k, and Red went looking for her, but you couldn’t find her. You returned to your home to see if she had returned.

Red links her fingers with yours and gives you a sympathetic look. “All her stuff is gone.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to hold back tears. Addy only found you in the first place while looking for someone else. “She’s gone to find Lucy,” you say, clearing your throat. “We should go and let Tommy know; I don’t want him out there looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

You aim your gun in the direction of something being crushed and slowly make your way over to a large mixer, which appears to have turned on itself. You look inside it and almost gag at seeing more skulls.

“You guys seeing this? This place is gross.”

When you don’t get a reply, you spin around to see Warren staring at something with a concerned look on her face. She notices you looking and waves you over. When you do, you see what the problem is.

“Eh Murphy, are you good? You’re practically drooling over a skull?”

“Yeah,” he quickly shrugs your comment off. “This place just gives me the munchies.”

All of a sudden, a man appears and starts firing at the three of you. Quickly, you jump out of the way to avoid being shot and accidentally scrape your stomach on something sharp. You duck behind one of the metal tables and, taking a few deep breaths, look down to see blood appearing on your top.

No, no, no.

Murphy crawls over beside you and says, “What the hell are you doing? We gotta keep moving.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I just—fuck.”

“Did you get shot?”

“No, I’ve just cut my stomach.” The cut wasn’t deep, and you were sure it hadn’t harmed the baby, but it gave you one hell of a fright. Between deep breaths, you start mumbling to yourself, “Tommy is going to freak.”

Seeing how afraid you are, something clicks in Murphy, and he gives you a look of understanding. He knows. Quietly, he says, “Stay behind me; we are going to make a run for it.”

You nod, and the two of you manage to run behind a different spot without being shot.

—

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you try anything stupid.” You say, aiming at the man who was previously trying to kill your head.

While he chases Murphy and Warren off from either side, the man seemed to not care that much about weapons being so close to his head. “It looks like we’ve got ourselves a zombie standoff. You have me; I got him, and my brothers got all three of you.”

You glance around the room; it was more than likely that 10k or Addy had gotten to his brother first.

“We are looking for bizkits,” Warren says. “We have starving talkers that are starting to turn.”

“We are just trying to survive ourselves, and it’s crooks like you who have shut down the bakery and turned us into a bunch of dirty dogs. So lower your weapons and kindly waltz out of here, or we’re all going to be crawling brains.”

“Look, I don’t know who you think we are, but we aren’t them.”

“That’s what the last bunch said before they started shooting.”

You didn’t doubt the man’s story for a second; the bakery was covered in a red mist of blood. A door creaks open, and Addy and 10k bring out another man, whom you assume is the brother with a gun at his back.

“Listen,” you lower your weapon slightly, “your brother is still human, and I know you want to keep it that way. Just tell us what we want to know, and nobody else will get hurt.”

The man gulps down, “So, you're in need of some help?”

—

While the older man, Gilly, looks at his younger brother, Skull's nose, which was cut by your sister 10K, pulls you aside and grips a hold of the bottom of your top, “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine; it’s just a cut.”

He holds your gaze. “Are you sure?”

“We’ll be fine.”

You return to your group just in time to hear Gilly explain that it was their mom who invited bizkits to save their brother, who had been bitten, but then the brother bit the mom when they ran out. And since the bombing, someone has been attacking the bakery so they won’t continue making them. Their mom had turned two weeks ago, and she was the only one who had the recipe.

You look up at the window of the office overlooking the rest of the bakery and see multiple talkers that have turned.

—

Murphy stands up a table, holds up a radio, and turns the music up to distract the talkers while Skull sneaks inside to get the recipe. The plan was going well until Skull tripped and fell and was bitten by their zombified brother right after their mom ate the recipe.

“I hate to say it, but the only way to keep them from turning might be to feed them actual brains.”

From the doorway at the far side of the room, multiple heavy footsteps can be heard, along with snarling and hissing. All the noise must have attracted the nearby Z’s from outside. Thankfully, only a small number of them came into the building.

You run up behind one of the Z’s and stab it in the head before shooting another two. You notice Addy and 10k working together to take out Z's, which makes you smile.

Warren cuts the head off one and tosses it to Gilly.

You stand behind 10k and bury your face into his back, not wanting to witness Gilly crushing the skull, then cutting up the brains, and then feeding them to the walkers.

When the talkers return to normal, the mom flirts with a creeped-out Murphy, kissing him on the cheek before continuing to help.

—

Sitting with your legs dangling over the edge of a table, you watch as the brothers bag up the last of the bizkits. Hearing a whistling noise, you look over to Murphy, who was trying and failing to be discreet by waving you and 10k over to him, then looking away.

You and 10k stand on either side of him. “What’s going on?”

“I just wanted to say...” he trails off while tracing patterns in the flour scattered across the table with his finger. Murphy's jaw clenches slightly. “I don’t like either of you, but I do think you will be great parents, even lefty over here.”

With that, he turns and quickly walks away. You share a confused look with 10k. “Did you tell him?”

“No, but I think he figured it out.”

Ultimately, you’d need to tell the others the truth sooner than later. 10k smiles and brushes strands of hair out of your face. “Go for it.”

“Uh, guys, we’ve got something we need to tell you.”

Warren and Addy step a little closer, and you try not to laugh, seeing the worried look on their faces.

“Tommy and I are having a baby.”

[ironm4n]

wait I already asked for sum but I'm asking again — haha sorry

fem werewolf reader x garroth - my street location but after all the chaos so garroth is a werewolf too

nobody knows reader is a wolf as she got bullied for it when she was young, way before high school and she learned how to hide her ears and tail so she always did and eventually it became about of an afterthought at times although it was a topic she hates thinking abt

reader is Katelyn's best friend as they used to play volleyball together in pdh, garroth and everybody else obviously knows her too but Katelyn was closest with her. She always kept her friend group smaller than most and she was knows to be sweet, although she had an attitude and a sarcastic tone at times, which Katelyn loves most about her. tldr garroth and reader become close but he feels detached from everyone, as if he's keeping them at arms length, due to his trauma. Garroth has a breakdown in public when hanging w everyone (for reasons you can think of sorry Juliet 😭) and idk things happen and reader opens up to make him feel better and smooch they're baes

a/n this is such a fun request i LOVE this !! and tysm for requesting <3 i have a few other requests which I'll definitely get to eventually :)

not proof read !!! sorry, wrote this at half 2am and i really didn't wanna read it through😭

also the pic is from Pinterest:

Garroth Ro'meave x fem!Wolf!Reader.

Love.

A social construct made up by lonely people who find sorrow in their isolation. Yet, no matter how much versatility love had in the eyes and, most importantly, hearts of people, the pain and adrenaline and even the dependancy love can cause is seen as a fundamental process of loving and being "normal". Now, I know this sounds pessimistic and something that a typical single, and way too desperate to mingle, person would say, I adore the idea of love and the feeling it gives us. Sometimes, life feels so meaningless and unnecessary, so the feeling of love and even the hurt or happiness it can often bring can make us as people feel so much less alien.

Now, the reason i'm so fixated on the topic of romance is due to the current predicament i find myself in. In high school, my friend Aphmau fell desperately in love with Aaron Lycan, it was cute. What was even cuter was the fact they stuck it out and are even currently engaged! Sure, we lost a figurative single soldier who ended up being taken but that was fine, it was fun fos us to gossip about and hope we could have what they have. Kawaii— no, Nana got into a relationship with Zane which was... unexpected to say the least, but it was nice to know Zane had opened up to someone other than Aphmau and that Nana finally had something she had always wanted. Katelyn broke up with Jeffory in high school too, she went through a tough time but i knew my best friend was going to be okay, and soon enough she was. However, what was NOT okay was that she ended up in a relationship too! I mean, of course she's an adult and i want the best for her and i truly am happy but wow, now i have the least amount of relatability, even to my best friend, all because Travis finally wooed her. I hadn't expected to be the only one on mystreet that was single.

Well, only single female, that is. There was Dante, who still had yet to manage his own love life but he recently went on a journey of self discovery and trying to be happy with who he is and not feel as though he had to change himself in order to be loved romantically. Kim and Lucinda were also single, although they never showed much interest in getting into a relationship, well not Lucinda at least. Kim seemed like she might just be too awkward to even try. But they didn't matter, i wasn't all that close with them, even though Lucinda and Kim felt closer than Dante due to the events of what had happened at the lodge... yeah, those experiences definitely brought us closer.

There was also Garroth...

Garroth Ro'meave, what a character. He's somebody that is incredibly attractive, objectively of course - i personally don't have feelings for him. He has this gorgeous head of sandy blonde hair, long enough to tie up into a tiny ponytail but still short enough to have tendrils of a mellow gold sticking out at the front. His skin was a pretty tan colour, he went outside alot and although he put on sunscreen, he never really bothered to apply more throughout the day so especially after coming back from holiday, his skin was lovely, sunkissed even. And although i could go on and on about his muscles and peculiar yet endearing fashion sense - I've yet to mention his best feature.

His eyes.

They were Sapphires, beautiful gemstones that shone with such luminosity that only the most expensive crystals could achieve. Although, the colour of his eyes moreso resembled Aquamarines, or perhaps even Blue Agates. His eyes were even more radiant when he smiled or laughed, and oh my god was his smile charming to say the least.

Everything about him was just - wow..

But again, don't get an ill idea, I simply see him as a friend. Maybe even a close friend. After the lodge, we had all gotten closer, especially as the feeling of loneliness often felt deadly at times.. Garroth and I had gotten much closer after the lodge, especially at Starlight as many tensions had eased between everyone and people had finally relaxed. Even now, we hang out much more often as we are some of the only single ones out of our close friends so we just gravitate towards eachother.

Unfortunately, I had grown a bit more distant from Katelyn, my ultimate best friend. After coming back from the lodge, we all spoke of course but there was so much.. uncertainty and lack of trust. It was as if we needed to reevaluate our friendships and see if they were genuine and not just Ein somehow hurting us again. We were broken. And of course the others that were not at the lodge didn't understand the change. Katelyn was never truly in touch with her emotions nor how to handle them, let alone other people's emotions. Of course she had realised there was a slight shift in my behaviour, especially as it wasn't just me. Everybody had noticed Aphmau's depression, and Katelyn was growing more confused. She wasn't able to speak to me as seriously as she wanted to or as deeply as she wanted to, so i managed to undermine how i was feeling each time she had asked. But, we both knew that a lack of much needed communication can cause cracks or gaps in friendships. Although it was obvious she felt guilty for not "getting through to me", I knew i was at fault.

Katelyn hasn't tried asking about the lodge or anything else about the time period of which we all came back from there since. She must realise how much of a sensitive topic it is. And, although I sometimes feel lonely knowing she's out having fun not missing me and instead replacing our hangouts with dates with Travis, I'm happy she's happy and I'm happy i have Garroth now too.

Truth be told, Garroth went through unforgettable things, specifically being turned into a werewolf via excruciating pain and suffering. He doesn't like talking about it, and while his ears and tail are always out, he doesn't like people mentioning them or bringing them to everybody's attention. He wasn't ready for the kinds of conversations he knew he was bound to have with everybody if he allowed them to talk about them or even just acknowledge them.

He just wanted to be Garroth, it seemed. And he was never not Garroth to me. I wish he realised that I of all people would understand.

I, too, am a werewolf - well, a wolf at least, but I've always hidden it. Nobody knows, I always intended to tell everybody but i was so so scared.. I was bullied relentlessly in my younger years for being a wolf.

I never had it easy, I was adopted by humans that didn't know i was a pup right away, so when my ears and tails had been shown after they had already signed the adoption papers, they kept me. They didn't know how to raise a pup so they brought me up like they would a human and unfortunately sent me to a human school.

I went to human schools up until high school, so until i was 14. Needless to say, it was the worst. I got beaten physically and verbally, jumped, stolen from and some people even tried to light my fur on fire, so i forever have had a burn scar on my left ear. Although i seemed brave and string after those experiences, i never got over them. Sure, i moved forward, but i dont think i ever truly moved on. Yes, Garroth and I have different experiences but I so desperately sympathise with him as i understand the pain these transitions can cause, and even just what being a wolf can cause. I want him to let me in, but there's no way in hell I'll force him into that. So for now, my friendship with him is enough.

I care for him deeply, and although i said i didn't have any interest in him, it was a pretty obvious lie.. I don't know if i would say i love him yet as its incredibly early to say such rash things but I definitely like him more than anybody should be able to like someone. But after what he's been through, I doubt romance is even on his mind, let alone me.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

I turned on my side, staring aimlessly out of my window that resided next to my bed. The sky was an endless sea of midnight blue which was littered with glimmering stars.

I sighed.

I checked my phone around 10 minutes ago, so it was currently around 04:48 am if i had remembered correctly. It was getting harder and harder to sleep, and it didnt help that i kept thinking of Garroth.

Helping Garroth. Hanging out with Garroth. Liking Garroth. The beauty of Garroth. Just Garroth.

It was like a fever dream, only thinking of one person in millions of separate scenarios, i sound like an obsessed fan. I cringed, knowing i had to get up at about 11am tomorrow at the latest as I had to be at Aphmau's house by 12. She was having a hangout with everybody on mystreet as she felt like everybody had been so tense after recent events, she was always so sweet and looked out for everyone.

Well, I guess I need to at least try to sleep.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Yawning, my clenched my fists and rubbed my eyes with them, i looked beside me at my bedside table where my digital alarm clock was.

10:13.

I was kinda proud of myself for getting up at a somewhat reasonable time and getting at least 5 hours of sleep. I had some pretty bad eyebags from having sleepless nights often, but i always hid it with makeup.

I got ready within around an hour and a half leaving around 20 minutes to walk to Aphmau and Aaron's place. I was actually really pleased, i felt nice today. I sprayed myself with my favourite perfume and left my place, grabbing my phone and keys before i left. I saw Zane ans Nana holding hands as they walked into Aphmau's house a few houses down, they were super adorable to be honest.

I walked to her house and hugged Aph as she greeted me. I sat down and glanced around the room, immediately realising i had been the last to arrive. I sat down next to Garroth which was one of the only seats not occupied by a couple. Everybody was chatting loudly in a fun light hearted manner, clearly happy to feel free of any tension towards one another. I turned to Garroth, wondering why he had kept so quiet.

Immediately, I had a good idea of why.

His normally honey toned skin looked pastey and blotchy, his eyes were red and tearful and his hair was unkempt. Had nobody else noticed the support he clearly needed??

"Garroth.."

He turned to me and attempted to give me a sweet smile and whilst he looked pretty like usual, it was disingenuine and full of melancholy.

"Yes, Y/N?"

I just looked at him, and my sympathy must have been misunderstood as pity as he suddenly stood up and spoke, "Don't do that."

"Do what?" I got up too, wanting to be on the same level as him.

"Give me that look o-of pity! Don't pity me, Y/N. I'm strong."

"I know that Garroth I just—"

"Just stop!" He exclaimed and although it wasn't loud enough for many other to hear, thank god, it had left me feeling scared for him. I just wanted him to be okay, dammit.

He left Aphmau's house, i quickly ran to the kitchen to say goodbye to Aphmau. I felt no need to expose Garroth to her so i came up with the classic "family emergency" excuse. Somehow, it worked and she allowed me to leave in my hurried state. Assuming Garroth went to his house, I ran over there as quickly as I could, which wasnt too hard considering I was a wolf, and knocked on the door. Unfortunately, it had been left open anyways so I peered in, seeing Garroth curled up on the couch, his ears drooping.

I walked in quietly and closed the door, although his long distance hearning abilities due to his new werewolf attachments heard me.

"Y/N please, i don't want your pity." I sat down on the floor just below him so i could see him face, although his eyes were looking at anything but myself, "Good thing I'm not here to give you pity, then."

His gaze softened and he spoke in a murmer, "Sorry for raising my voice." Tears were threatening to fall down his face, something he unfortunately looked like he was used to. I held his hands in mine, "Don't apologise. You're allowed to be upset, hell it would be abit odd if you weren't. No matter what ears you have, human or otherwise, or if you have a tail or not, you're always going to be my Garroth. This hasn't changed a thing."

His face tensed as tears cascaded down his cheecks, "You're too sweet to me... but no matter what you say, i know you don't understand. Not as well as you think you do. I'm never going to be the same Garroth i was because nobody will see me the same way. But i cannot handle the looks of pity i get..."

I kissed the backs of his hands, rubbing my thumbs soothingly against them, trying to add some sort of comfort that wasn't too invasive or overwhelming. The last thing i wanted was to drive him away. "Garroth, i understand more than you think i do."

He was still refusing to look at me, closing his eyes as he tried to prevent more tears from spilling. I allowed my ears and tail so show, I don't do it often so it felt foreign and hinestly, it was uncomfortable and way too vulnerable for my liking. But i knew it might help Garroth, and i was willing to take the chance.

"Look at me Garroth."

He didn't reply and instead jjst kept his eyes closed, "I said look at me." I tried to command, although it came out quietly and softly as I didn't want to add fuel to Garroth's fire.

He opened his eyes and — "what is this?"

"I.. am a werewolf. Well, a wolf. I was born one."

He was in a state of shock, "I didn't know.." I laughed uncomfortablely, "Yeah.. nobody does. I was ashamed, i got bullied by humans as a kid so much that my fear was domineering and I never really showed them. Having human parents adopt me didn't help either and they didn't understand me."

Garroth looked at me with a look that finally meant he understood, "You understand me because...you went through the lonliness and shame too." I nodded, "Garroth, I care so much about yoy to the point I can't sleep sometimes because of worry or out of happiness knowing I'll see you the next day or even just staying up thinking about how cute your stupid goofy smile is but—"

He gasped and I had thought i said too much and overstepped a boundary, "You think my smile is stupid and goofy?" He inquired dramatically and for the first time in a while, I laughed wholeheartedly, "Shut up, you know thats not what i meant!" "Well thats what you said!"

I smiled at his as our bickering dulled, "But seriously. I like you Garroth, more than a friend should, and you had me worrying so much but in reality, you're always going to be my Garroth to me, ears and a tail aren't gonna change that. Although they are devilishly cute."

He blushed and I removed my hands from his and wiped the tears off of his face. I kissed his cheek as he stuttered in response and merely kissed mine back. We didn't speak after, because words were not needed, the only thing were needed in that moment was eachother.

[gae-bug]

A slight hyper fixation is forming on the movie coco so here are some things I jotted down while rewatching it last night.

-We first see Dante next to a shop that sells a bunch of alebrijes

-miguel commenting on how cool de la curz’s guitar is And how his fav song is remember me little does he know that that's hectors guitar and the song he wrote for coco, also he knew they were connected in some way

-they keep up with the dimple only on one side thingy

-the talent of this kid for being able to make a functioning guitar from scraps lying around is fucking amazing, even if his shine for de la curz is a stong fire hazzard-

-learnt by just watching and hearing without actually being taught!!!?!?!?! Bro is insanely good

-"I'm gonna play even if it kills me!" The universe took that a Lil to literally lol

-oh Dante, he shall always be my favorite animal character in a movie

-the collective gasp

-at least Miguel's dad showed some sing of 'okay this is a little to far’ when she went to smash the gitaur

-the way he folds the picture the opposite way, so instead of Hector being the one left out its Imelda

-just casually stealing from the dead, smart move tho with the fire work.

-I like that the petals start to flicker

-how did people realize it was missing so fast bro

-"oh hey Miguel.….😨😨😨😨”

-the city in the land of the dead is so pretty but would also be terrifying as someone who is afraid of heights.

-Hector has no eyebrows, he does got some sick move tho

-I love that everybody's afraid of imelda lol

-imaging still having to work a service job in the after life-

-again Dante is my favorite

-Hector has a broken rib

-I also love Hector's confusion, he's like tf u mean that asshole has KIDSS!!!?!?!!?!??!

-Hector’s guitar has a golden tooth just like him!

-Dante being the best count like 15 lol

-would all these dancer s also get in legal trouble for faking unibrows or do they get a pass bc it was a celebrities idea?

-coresction, Hector had SEVERAL broken ribs.

-"what do you know" alot buddy, A LOT.

-bro took his femur, and DIDNT RETURN IT-

-okay, ik I said Hector had no eyebrows and that is true but basically nobody else really does either but it's more noticeable to me on Hector because of him taking off the fake eyebrows.

-the fucking detail on Miguels face, you can see his skin through the face paint as if it was real.

-the foreshadowing from looking at the shot glasses, one dunk, one still full.

-the nuns are also playing remember me before they even said that everybody is playing it

-one of his arm and one of his leg bones are also being held together by what I think is gauze? Idk it's blue it might be ribbon.

-I love hectors excitement when migeul stars playing poco loca, especially considering that it was most likely a song HE wrote about Imelda

-he called Miguel's musical fantasy stupid bc his got him killed.

-skeleton horses have been spotted, plus 10 points(I say as if I'm keeping a point counter lmao)

-him laughing and genuinely having fun with people who actually enjoyed his music

-he looks better as a skeleton low key- (de la cruz)

- yk there's a thing called stairs Miguel…

-the shock on del la curz’s face bc he knows he DID NOT have children, but he sees this as an opportunity to get more famous so he runs with it

- notice how he doesn't mention him leaving his family bc he didn't leave a family

-can't believe this dude has pools in the shape of the gitaur that he murdered his best friend for.

-he murdered his best friend, stole his guitar, stole his songs AND profited off his death by putting in a move and making himself seem like the victim in that situation.

-all Hector cares about is seeing his daughter one last time

-takes his guitar before Hector even hits the ground.

-when Imelda says I give you my blessing the petal lights up but when de la curz says it the petals stays normal

-as soon as de la curz is meant to be seen as the bad guy you see him in green and purple lighting, colors Disney like to use for villains.

-even though he is fading hectors first priority was comforting miguel

-THE DETAIL ON EVEN THE TINIEST OF THINGS BRO

-seeing Hector with skin is weird to me for some reason, maybe it's just because I'm so used to seeing him without it.

-Dante very well has over a hundred points for being the best at this point

-hector holding his hat like a sad wet cat.

-Imelda has earings but no ears-

-"she’s talking about me! I'm the love of your life!?" One of my favorite moments lol

-bro was stupid enough to keep the photo in his pocket.

-"I don't know what I said" "that's what I heard 🤭😏"

-'that's interesting yk why,’ 'why?' 'Because- *runs away*' seriously tho the run he does lmao

-this entire family got moves bro, and are also very good at avoiding the cops.

-I hate this fucking asshole

-YES! PUT HIM ON BLAST!!!!!!

-dont you fucking call him 'old freond' you fucking bitch

-yes boo him off the stage! Throw your tomatoes!!!!

-bell: 2 Ernesto: 0

-you can start to see Miguel's skull through his skin

-her earrings are just pierced through her cheekbones-

-he follows the petals home

-"not all of us" STOPPPPP.

-I'm glad they didn't try to make it seem like he was singing perfectly and instead had it so you can hear the tears in his voice

-it's dirty gauze and duct tape that's holding his bones together btw

- it's been a year and bro has not gotten better clothes.

Edit: ok hector actually did get some slightly better clothes I think but like they are very similar to his old clothes and seem a lot worse compared to the rest of his family’s

[matcheadz]

HOS/ HOST OF SERAPHIM UPDATE!!

SURPRISE!! I'M NOT DEAD!! JUST WORKING!!

Thank you all so much for over 500 Kudos now. I never thought we'd get this far but, here we fuckin' are! My original intent was to double the word count on this chapter and then also upload some art for fun and as a thank you, but then real-life stuff happened and I figured I needed to get this chapter out at SOME point.

regardless! It is still about 1.5x as long as a regular chapter, and it should NOT take two months to upload another one. I've adjusted my work schedule and while I'm still working a shit ton, I at least have one day off a week now...

:') I'm a clown.

Anywho! This chapter is titled "Love" and you should not be fooled by that. It has some very heavy trigger warnings so please take a look at the chapter notes. Remember that Vergil is having an onslaught of memories just piling into his head, so he's very uncomfortable for the majority of this chapter.

Here's a spoiler-free snippet:

"Please don’t walk away, there’s more! Theres more!" A little Vergil, his lips stained blue with raspberry ice pop, would bleat as his partner-in-crime pushed the book away from him. “Vergil, this book is too sad for me.” Dante would sigh, leaning back against the clay roof and kicking his feet in frustration. “The main character threw away his family because he was too stupid to realize he wasn’t the only one hurt by a family tragedy. He was selfish and let that hurt become his whole personality until he became so power hungry and scared that he ruined the saving grace that offered itself up on a silver platter and got himself killed in the process.” And a little Vergil would frown at him and say, “What do you mean? The main character’s love interest was a girl. Someone he left not to abandon her, but to protect her from the danger that followed him. So he could grow strong and protect the both of them, so nothing in the world could ever hurt either of them ever again. I think that’s a noble cause, don’t you?” And The Raven would simply nod, his red ice-pop melting in the heat of the summer sun and sucking idly at the flavor between his fingers. “That’s what I said.” He would reply lazily. He would squint up at him, his dark pony-tailed hair spread around him like a smoke-stain. He would raise his hand above his head to block the sun, grimacing anyway to reply in a bored tone.  “And of course I think its noble, lucertolino, I think that was our problem.” And little Vergil would gape at the image of the boy who was once his brother and realize he never knew his twin at this age. And he would stare and stare and stare at his blue raspberry ice pop, willing that to make sense until the blue splashed over the page and ruined the rest of the story. He wouldn’t cry over it though, even if it was a really good book. He’d get mad and growl somewhere a little deeper than his chest and throw the book over the edge of the roof, even if it was a really good book. "Why’d you do that, idiota? You loved that book."  The Raven would sit up from his sunbathing spot and frown into the bright distance. "No I didn't. I hated it." Vergil would spit and lie, that stony expression would come over his face even as his weakest instrument broke in two. "We should write a new one. Just us. Just me and you, nobody else." Vergil would turn, the baby-blue of his coat flashing golden light onto his heart’s face. She would laugh at his anger, her brunette bun bouncing with the energy of it and her bright red dress bunched up between clay-stained hands as they walked. She’d stop him right underneath the statue of his father, her hands pressing into his chest and tongue between her teeth—seeing too much of him. "Art like that is made once and a lifetime, Angelo. A shame you did not cherish it while you had it." “I hate you.” Adult Vergil mumbled in reply. Between blinks, Eleonora came and went. And between inhales, his brother had returned. Dante laid underneath Vergil, his chest against his back, gripping tightly to his brother’s torso as if somehow, he would disappear on exhalation.

[womanofwords]

STEM Kids Shenanigans (Chapter 15)

Chapter 15: Flight

Angelo was in deep trouble. He'd slept in and had missed his alarm, meaning he was now very late for school. (Usually he was barely on time for school, but now he was going to be truly, properly late.) After grabbing a fruit bar and haphazardly putting on clothes, he raced out of the house and to school. His backpack flew towards him, catching up fast. It was always good to have a backpack you didn't have to carry.

Fifteen more minutes before I get a late mark, Angelo thought to himself. Fifteen minutes before I would get a lateness detention. This isn't looking good. He watched the clock as he got closer to the school gates. He was inside by 8:23.

Seven minutes to spare.

"Squeaking by again, Mr Riva?" Mr Oluwatola asked, as he collapsed into his seat at the back of the room, same as always. The backpack was no longer flying and was held tightly in his arms.

"I suppose," he said. Dante smirked at him.

"Lose track of time, Mr Riva?" he taunted.

"Shut up," Angelo muttered. Dante sniggered.

"I'm just playin' with you, I swear." Dante poked him in the ribs, grinning as he stifled a squeak. "Oi, Riva. We're going to be meeting up in the labs after we eat lunch. Want in?"

"Always."

"Quiet at the back of the room!" Mr Oluwatola snapped.

"Sorry, sir!" they stammered, straightening their backs as the rest of the class giggled.

"You four had better be," Mr Oluwatola muttered, as the bell rang for the first lesson of the day and the four split up.

(PAUSE)

They met up in the school laboratory to draw up plans for chaos. "So, what are we doing?" Layla asked.

"Messing with Angelo's backpack," Dante asked.

"What do you want with my backpack?" Angelo asked.

"The ability to fly makes it interesting," Layla pointed out.

"And if you can make a backpack fly, I wonder what else you can make fly," Yujin replied.

"How about a skateboard?" Angelo grinned, getting out his notebook. "Although I do wonder how large the thrusters would have to be."

"They could be retractable so nobody gets suspicious about it," Yujin suggested.

"Maybe a scooter would be better," Layla pointed out. "Easier to steer."

"At this point, just get yourself a bike," Dante groaned. "It would be easier to-"

"Easier to what?!" The shadow stretched across half of the room, although the figure casting that shadow was far smaller. Melanie Sainsbury was staring at them from the doorway, flashing a prefect's badge in their direction and smirking. Another prefect stood behind her, unsure about what she was looking at. "Answer my question!" Melanie snapped.

"What do you want now?" Dante groaned.

"I heard you making your plans, you little brats!" Melanie snapped. "I knew you were going to use your intelligence for evil! Now what have you been planning, huh?"

"Nothing! It actually got pretty off topic," Layla lied.

Melanie raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yep," Angelo said. "We ended discussing whether it would be faster for someone to use a hoverboard, a scooter or a bike to get to school and how effective it would be in stopping someone like me from being late."

"A likely story!" Melanie scoffed. "I bet you're going to create a kind of flying hoverboard, aren't you? And cause wilful and gleeful chaos everywhere you go?"

"What?" Yujin spluttered.

"Mate, we're just trying to have a meeting in peace," Dante groaned.

Melanie rolled her eyes before giving another lecture. "First of all, don't call me mate. We're not mates. I would never be friends with anyone like you. And second of all, I don't believe you." Melanie paused to laugh. "What was this meeting about, pray tell? Before you got 'off topic'." She punctuated the word off-topic with air quotes.

"It was about revision for the upcoming exams," Dante said.

"Melanie, they're just having a meeting," her supervisor said. "What do you see in them?"

"Nothing but trouble," Melanie snarled. "Come on. If we walk quickly, there'll be a couple of kids eating in the stairwell that we can give detentions to." They walked away, and the four breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness she's done terrorizing us," Angelo sighed.

"My heart was pounding with fear," Yujin said.

"What did we do to deserve this?" Dante asked.

Silence took over, and then the four burst out laughing. "Honestly, Melanie just won't stop, will she?" Layla laughed.

"Not while we're in school," Yujin pointed out.

"Although it doesn't help that she is actually kinda right this time," Dante pointed out.

And they laughed together again.

(PAUSE)

Two weeks later, after plans had been made and the contraption constructed, the four went to an abandoned skate park to test it out. "This is going to be amazing," Dante said, his voice excited and rambling.

"This is the coolest kind of 'study session' ever!" Layla replied.

"I've never been so happy to take the place of a crash test dummy in my life," Angelo laughed, putting on a helmet and elbow pads.

"Angelo, you actually do know how to ride a skateboard, right?" Dante asked.

"Sure I do! I do it plenty! What do you think I spend my free time doing?" Angelo laughed.

"Being your little sister's personal butler," the others chorused.

"Other than that stuff," Angelo said. His face turned red, and Dante laughed.

"Look at you, all red. Your sister has you wrapped around her little finger," he laughed. "You made a flying robot ladybird friend just for her!"

"I can't help it, OK? She's so cute and she has these big brown eyes and I just can't say no!" Angelo groaned.

"You are hopeless," Layla groaned.

"Sweet, but hopeless," Yujin added.

"Can we just get on with it?" Dante snapped.

"Sir, yes sir," Layla, Angelo, and Yujin said in unison, and they got to work. Angelo got onto the skateboard, which was perfectly nondescript, strapped himself in and started skating.

"Ready!" Angelo yelled.

"Good. Now go!" Layla said, as Yujin filmed the entire thing for research purposes. Layla pressed the button, and Angelo flew. Hovering at first, he giggled and laughed as he turned and twirled.

"This is so cool!" Angelo laughed. "Turn it up higher!" Layla turned it up higher, and Angelo did a full front flip. Yujin laughed, and Dante cheered.

"Dude, you're awesome!" Dante whooped. Layla turned it up higher, and Angelo went faster and higher.

"I declare this experiment to be a complete success!" Angelo yelled, as the other three cheered and he did a back flip in mid air.

"Angelo, it's running out of battery. Get down," Layla yelled. Angelo sighed and descended slowly.

"That. Was. Awesome!" Angelo cheered. As the four nerds cheered and congratulated each other, nobody noticed the clicking of a camera.

(PAUSE)

"So, how was the meetup with your little friends?" Angelo's mother asked him, when Angelo came back. His helmet was in his bag, safe from prying eyes and nosy uncles.

"How was the nerd meetup, you little dork?" Santo taunted.

"SANTO!" everyone yelled.

"It was nice," Angelo said, feeling the knee pads he was still wearing and smiling. "It was great."

To read the other parts of this fic, see Masterlist.

[adventism-atheism-orthodoxy-me]

Nobody Cares. Period.

I said this to my daughter once.

That was a mistake, even though mostly true. Because I really did care, and I don't think she quite picked up that I wasn't talking about myself but of the World - "Out there".... However, even so, nobody else would have listened to either of us - her or me regarding her problem. That's why she was telling me about it, and I was helpless. It had to do with school, and interpersonal relationships, and I knew from experience that bullies don't care what others feel. It is completely beyond them - whether school administrators who were the problem, the garden variety playground bully who was the other problem, or corporate managers who were my most recent problems - nobody cares.

I think it might have been one of the things that damaged, broke even, our special father-daughter relationship - that failure to make clear that I didn't include myself among the 'nobody'.

Nevertheless, it's true. We live in a society where caring is institutionally useless, dangerous even. Nobody cares.

My family isn't rich or powerful. We don't give large amounts of money to prominent organizations or peddle influence to get friends and acquaintances into positions of wealth or power. We are nothing. We are representative of the nothings that have built pretty much everything that has defined every civilization since the dawn of man, while the credit has gone to our more powerful and connected superiors. Our Kings, Emperors, Caesars, and CEOs.

Nobody cares except God. He cares.

Scoff.

Feel free.

I believe in a God who so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him would have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

People get bogged down in details - what does "believe" mean, what about people who don't know to "believe", etc…

All nonsense.

"…the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ (Matthew 25:37-40)

Also,

"Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven." (Matthew 7:21)

Some scoff at the idea of an "invisible Church".

Fine.

Scoff.

God will know his own.

"Indeed, when Gentiles, who do not have the law, do by nature things required by the law, they are a law for themselves, even though they do not have the law. 15 They show that the requirements of the law are written on their hearts, their consciences also bearing witness, and their thoughts sometimes accusing them and at other times even defending them." (Romans 2:14-15)

And the rest?

Well, there's the river of fire, the lake of fire… There's other imagery that various Christians use, some Biblical, some from Dante, some images come from other sources. But at the end of the day those who did not, or do not care, their self-absorbed entitlement, their narcissism, will be all they have to cling to in whatever future there is.

I believe that because of Christ's work on the cross, the infusion of divinity into the human condition, these people will live for eternity in the tatters of their self importance. Others believe in a different outcome. It really doesn't matter. None of it is good.

None of it will be punitive, as in, a transgression of a moral law, but will be entirely based upon the orientation of an individual's heart (Deuteronomy 30:6).

Our role on earth is to care as Christ did, when no one else will.

That's what makes Christianity so radical.

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." (James 1:27)

[durativo]

Tell us the story of how the cambion got decapitated OR you have to steal Yamato, slather her with butter and then trek it cross country and then bury her without using your speed to elude Vergil if he comes after you

Let’s Play a truth or dare: Send a Question AND a dare. My muse HAS to choose between them.

“So my choice is tell the story… or die by my own painful self inflicted machinations? Well that’s fair.”

It’s about time he told this story anyway.

“He was fifteen years older than me. Human years, at least. He told me he was pretty old in demon years though; he was in the underworld for a long fuckass time back ‘before Sparda and Mundus had their little beef’, as he put it. His name was Pandæmonium. In his words ‘yeah, I’m pretty sure my parents hate me too’. He had really long hair. Down to his ass. He kinda looked like a rockstar. His hair was white like ours, but he had some stray streaks of magenta in it. He wore a long black coat with magenta highlights and it went down to his shoes. It was really cool. Devil Sword Pandæmonium was this big smooth magenta thing. It looked so much better than Force Edge or Devil Sword Sparda. Good god, it was awesome.”

“Anyway, he told me to call him Pan. He said that name was perfect for him. Pandæmonium. Because Pan meant all, and that was also his preference.Pandæmonium the pansexual. His words, not mine. He was such a weirdo… also Pan had a fuckton of money. He did all sorts of odd jobs. He told me good on me when I told him I had my own business. He told me there was no shame in being a jack of all trades, handy man to babysitter to gigolo. Money is money. The only thing I think he loved more than fucking was fighting.”

“… I gotta admit, I don’t really know what happened to him. But I was… not really proud of myself in that time of my life and I… I was all alone for a while. I mean, I knew Lady and all but… another cambion, and one who was so confident in himself, and he knew demon friends and human friends, he was bridging that world between us. He was teaching demons how to interact with humans… he was also teaching them how to fuck, but that’s relations in the end, right? Still a way for them to get to know each other… and I…” He scratched the back of his head after some mild hesitation. “Fuck, I dunno, he was so confident in himself and his abilities, he could kick my ass in no time at all and I… I guess had… hope? That there was something to keep living for…”

“He never told me it was stupid… my dreams and stuff. He confided in me when I told him he was giving me a will to live. He told me it was good to hear, but he wanted me to find my own reason. People, even cambions… they can’t support another fully, letting one just be carried and the other forced to burden the weight. We can lean on each other, but we have to stand on our own at some point. We uh… we had a really strange relationship, yeah? He was kinda… uh…” His face actually flushed a tinge red, even though he didn’t turn red telling the tale of that sevensome. “He was kinda… like a sugar daddy.”

Of course, he meant more than that, for the years that they actually spent time together, but that was the best way to put it. When he had to move, he told me. “This is where we part ways.” He said he had a nice time with me. I was gutted. I just… I felt all alone again. Even fucking people still felt miserable when he wasn’t there.”

“I didn’t know what happened to Pan. All I learned was he went to Vie de Marli. And then… maybe two years later, I went to Vie de Marli. And I found him. I found Pan… well… I found his skull… look, I don’t really know how I knew, but I knew it was his. They also had his Devil Sword… but only the tip of it. I don’t know where the handle and the rest of the blade is… but I stole it. I stole it all. I buried him… not far from Modeus and Baul. I just felt like if I was there… maybe I would’ve been able to save him. I don’t know what happened to his body, I’m going to guess it got experimented on, but whatever was left of his spine was clearly snapped off– he had cuts on his skull too, cuts I know weren’t from scars. Damn bastard went down fighting the hardest anyone ever fought, and I know it. Enough for a cambion’s skull to be cracked and not healed over.”

“Anyway, Vie de Marli was… already a bad place. I didn’t need it piling that shit on top of me but… I tried to look on the bright side. At least I knew what happened. At least he came with me, and at least he got to be buried and not trapped in a glass box like a museum exhibit or some toy. The tip of the Devil Sword Pandæmonium I keep around. Like a good luck charm. He said if I could ever kick his ass I could have it. I didn’t kick his ass, but I brought him home, so… I guess that’s good enough for a piece. Yeah?”

[candychronicles]

violence // k. takami (hawks)

A/N: my lovely take on @sightoru​’s dante’s inferno collab! congrats on 1k (and many more)! i loved writing this, was definitely so different and so much fun!! also, please please please heed the warnings. i mention some potential very triggering things in here! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Takami Keigo x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,645

WARNINGS: sacreligious themes (it is dante’s inferno, after all), death, grief, mentions of eating disorders & self harm, negative coping mechanisms, violence and overall violent themes

SYNOPSIS: the seventh circle of hell is violence: what will you face here?

Want to indulge yourself in all the circles of hell? Click here! 

panting, you prepared yourself for the next circle, chill seeping into your bones as you pressed yourself against the cold metal of the creaking elevator. sir nighteye looked forward, no emotion betraying his face as he continued to guide you through hell. you weren’t certain what would happen in the next cycle but you were so close, nearing the seventh beast, and you were more than determined to finish and see your mom once again.

“this next one will be no more or less difficult than anything else but you may find it particularly hard to handle nonetheless. please exit and i will see you on the other side,” was all sir nighteye said before the elevator screeched to a halt. 

he gestured with one slim hand towards the now open door, a blinding light flashing in your eyes. you shielded your vision from the assault but marched forward, determined to get out of this hell hole as fast as possible. taking one step forward, you fell into the light, a silent scream ripping from your lips as you careened towards nothing.

isopropyl alcohol

that was the first thing you noticed as you came back to your senses. rubbing your eyes, you jolted your body forward, blinking at the harsh light, cocking your head as you tried to gather your surroundings.

an unsteady thrum of beeping caught your attention and with careful consideration, you opened your eyes, blinking once, twice, three times to make sure you were right in what you saw.

your mom laid under a plain white cotton sheet, monitors going off left and right, doctors swarming around you like you were absolutely nothing, like you weren’t even there. they spoke gibberish to you but what you did know is that you were watching your mother die all over again. you tried to help, tried to do something, anything to keep her alive, but your hands went through her body like she was made of thin air. you sunk to your knees, pain and despair clawing its way into your heart once more. your brain was confused, unsure of what was going on, only knowing intense emotions and suffering.

you burst your way through the crowd, slipping through them like a ghost as you panicked, struggling to find your way out and somewhere where you could calm down and figure out how to get back to the elevator.

“whoa,” a gentle voice said, hand placed firmly against your shoulder to stop your body from running.

“you can see me?” you questioned, looking up at him quizzically, trying to place where you had recognized him before.

“yeah, you’re running like a chicken with your head cut off in the middle of a hospital. kind of hard not to notice.”

quickly, you observed all the people around you, everyone looking at you with sympathetic eyes. you felt ashamed that you had acted that way, let the emotions get the best of you all over again as you watched your mom die once more.

“who are you?” you finally asked, blinking owlishly at him as you tried to understand what was going on.

“you can call me Keigo,” he replied, ushering you over to an empty waiting room so you could catch your breath.

“why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Keigo asked, a kind and gentle smile on his face as he encouraged you to talk.

without hesitation, you began to speak, expressing all the feelings you had, feelings of guilt that you couldn’t help your mother more, feelings of sadness that she was gone, of anger that she was taken away from you, of anger that you didn’t do enough to save her. he listened with rapt attention, the air getting thicker and heavier the more you ranted and raved about yourself and the whole situation. before you even had a chance to process what was going on, he grabbed your hands with his own, eyes peering deep into your soul.

“is that why caused so much harm to yourself? not eating or drinking for days, not showering, wallowing in your self pity, punching walls and slitting wrists? lashing out at yourself because you felt like you were too weak to help your mother, punishing yourself for not being there for her enough, for not loving her enough in her weakest hour?”

“w-what?” you asked, struggling to pull your hands away.

“i mean, i agree with what you did. your mother deserved better, deserved a child who could be there for her unconditionally, but you shouldn’t only be mad at yourself darling. those doctors didn’t do enough to save her either. it wasn’t just you who failed her but every healthcare worker out there too. they should’ve caught the cancer earlier, they should’ve treated her better, they could’ve saved her life but instead let her die on that creaky old bed, you by her side crying and not trying to help either. absolutely pathetic, all of you.”

as he went on and on, you felt your anger grow. not only at yourself and the doctors but him as well. you knew you were angry with them, you knew you hated yourself but for him to infer that you weren’t good enough, that nobody was good enough, set your heart ablaze. wrenching your arms out of his hands, you smacked him in the face, blood boiling at his insinuations and words.

you expected him to look shocked, angry or even confused but instead went wide eyed as he cackled, hand coming up to rub the imprint you left on his face.

“that’s it baby, hit me again. c’mon, don’t be shy, hit me once more. get all that anger out, make yourself feel better,” he cooed, tilting his head to give you better access.

without even thinking, you launched yourself at him, punching and kicking and screaming, angry at the world, angry at yourself, not even caring about him or what he was, enraptured with the feeling of power that came over you as you wailed on Keigo. 

as the blood pooled around him, you felt yourself getting weaker, the anger continuing to rage inside of you but the energy draining out of your body. red rivulets of blood danced and moved along the floor, attaching itself to his back, creating a dripping red pair of wings. realization flashed before your eyes as you watched the man stand up and crack his back, seemingly no worse for wear despite the beating you gave him. 

“y-you’re Hawks, aren’t you?” you asked, remembering the fallen hero who had lost his wings and turned to the side of villandry in times of hardship.

“in the flesh, baby.”

“you’re in charge of violence… a man who was once a hero, turned villain as his friends and partners betrayed him.”

“you make it sound so sad but really, it was enlightening, a real treat to be able to punish those who put me through so much pain,” he confessed, flashing red stained teeth as he leaned over you, his bloody wings dripping onto your face.

“how do you feel after all that fighting, hm? want to keep going? i’ve got all of eternity to fight you.”

you went to protest but before you got a chance, a fist connected with your face and you were hit with the flashback of your mother dying once again. 

a kick to your stomach had you thinking of the days laying on the bedroom floor, too tired to even crawl into bed.

a shot to the knees had you thinking about the time you sat with blood dripping from your thighs, wanting so badly to feel something, anything other than the emptiness you had felt before.

punch after punch, kick after kick had you wallowing in despair, anger at yourself for ever allowing yourself to feel again, anger at Hawks for kicking you while you were down, angry at the doctors for letting your mother die and angry at the world for taking her away from you.

just as you were about to give up and let the feeling of despair and anger consume you, you thought about all the good times you had with your mother, all of the memories of love and devotion, how she made you promise her that you would be happy after her death, how that promise got you out of grief the first time and how you so desperately needed to hear those words again.

with a determined nod, you rolled under a couch, kicking it up from above you towards the man with the feral grin. you shot out into the hallway, not caring about the pain and anger anymore, wanting to live and be happy for your mother, forgiving yourself, everyone around you and the universe itself for putting you through so much pain. turning a corner, you spotted the light at the end of the tunnel, the elevator glistening from the harsh hospital lights.

“come on little bird, don’t you want to play? don’t you want to fight your anger away and be punished for the failure that you are?”

“you may have caused so much violence in your life Keigo, you may have chose the wrong path and led a life of anger and pain, but i won’t do the same. i will live happy and free, not only for my mom but for me as well.”

with that said, you rushed through the empty hallway, leaping into the elevator, turning around to face the fluorescent light as the doors promptly shut in front of you.

“you’ve seen better days,” was all sir nighteye managed to comment as he took in your bloody and disheveled appearance.

you frowned and scoffed, the pain disappearing as you readjusted your hair and clothes, mentally preparing yourself for the next circle. 

you were not about to give up. 

[sailordiavolo]

Sparda Headcanons

nobody asked, but i’ve had many thoughts about Sparda lately, and i need to get them out before i go mentally insane

[ mostly general headcanons about Sparda himself, with some including his relationship with eva and the twins. ]

sparda started out like trish; a full demon who learned compassion, love and empathy, despite those traits not occurring naturally to demon kind.

when he did experience these emotions for the first time, it completely blew him away and fundamentally changed him. he became horrified by things such as the qliphoth tree, which eventually motivated his rebellion.

sparda, similar to mundus, could spiritually inhabit statues that were made in his likeness. there was one placed in fortuna, the purpose of which was originally to watch the hell gate for potential activity

though he would quickly dispatch of demons that tore into the human world, he wouldn’t meddle with human politics or affairs.

unlike vergil, sparda’s hair (in his human form) naturally grew out of his head in that slicked-back manner because that was how his horns grew (curled backwards). his hair even curved out and around like his horns did if he let it grow long enough

he had a romanticised view of humanity. he loved humanity like a neurodivergent person loves their hyperfixation

sparda spent most of his time in the human world in his demon form. he would occasionally take a human form when he wished to experience certain human things firsthand, or if he wanted to blend in, but he did this sparingly

while sparda was alive and at his strongest, there were a lot less demons trying to break into the human world, so the dark knight was often left with long periods of time to himself.

though he had learned empathy and compassion, sparda did not form close, loving bonds with humans for many centuries. thus the dark knight did not really have a concept of loneliness. he read about it, but didn’t really understand.

sparda was very reluctant to let people into his inner world, especially humans, who lived their entire lives and died before he could so much as draw a breath. there had been attempts to mingle with humans, but he stuck out like a sore thumb, or would outright scare people if he was in his demon form.

in his spare time, sparda liked to travel the world and visit various places, observing people, cultures, languages, arts and customs.

several different cultures have legends that somewhat fit the description of the legendary dark knight, but at present, nobody knows how accurate these legends are, and many of these legends do not mention him by name. they tell of his bravery and heroism.

sparda, like vergil, loved poetry and the artistic pursuits that humans created. (after all, swordsmanship is an art, too.) he admired the beauty of human art, especially the ways they used it to express emotions or tell stories

sparda liked to collect weapons and armor, even ones of human creation because they fascinated him. contrary to popular belief, sparda had been wielding guns since they were first invented, although for several hundred years they weren’t any match for most demons.

sparda’s mansion was like his den. it was filled with human literature, a lot of ancient texts in ancient languages; including various works of art, textiles, collections of weapons (including Luce & Ombra) and various items he’d been given as acts of worship. The doors and ceilings were very high because of how tall Sparda was in his demon form.

he had a colllection of human trinkets, various things he’d find that he thought were interesting, but didn’t really know what they were for. random mundane items, like an egg beater, hot water bottle, electric appliances that he doesn’t know how to turn on, spinning tops, and the like. he’d sort of just guess what they were for and put them up in places.

in his human form, he liked to dress in ways that imitated his favorite characters in books.

sparda had wished to know love like what he read about, like in the stories humans love to tell, which just seemed to be intrinsic to their nature. he could sort of understand shakespearean tragedies with his own understanding of love and compassion, yet for many centuries he still found the true meaning of such love to remain elusive to him.

eva was as curious about him as he was about her and humans in general. he would ask her questions about humans (initially, he had a lot of misconceptions about humans) and she would ask questions about him. when he was more comfortable around her, he showed her his human trinkets collection and asked her to explain what they were for. (he did not think that the egg beater was for mixing eggs).

he was bad at socialising and often spoke in a way that sounded ancient and out-of-place, sometimes mixing middle english with modern english, but he improved after meeting eva, since he had more practice after that.

after finding out sparda liked things such as poetry and literature, eva would bring him other human things to try; films, music, food and the like. just as vergil got his love of literature from his parents, dante got his love of music, dance and film from his parents, too. (sparda a fan of old western films? more likely than you’d think)

like dante and vergil, sparda was prone to aging in his human form. that’s why you see the version of him in dmc1 (pretty young-looking) and the older version of him as seen in the family portrait. ( see below )

therefore, it was a HUGE decision to marry eva and stay with her. it meant staying in human form, which meant aging, which meant shortening his own lifespan. although it was a big decision to make the commitment to marry eva, when the time came, he made the decision instantly.

he could’ve lived thousands of years longer had he left her alone, or had he resolved to watching her wither away and die from old age, but that was a very lonely existence, and once he had known eva, he had known loneliness and he had known sorrow.

eva and sparda were married for many years before the children came into the picture. (eva has a banging skin care routine btw)

sparda actually wanted children because of the many times he’d witnessed the loving bond between a human parent and child. it was a type of love he’d secretly longed for

though he wanted children, he was very reluctant to actually create them with eva, because of the potential risks involved with carrying hybrid offspring. not only that, but eva being the mother to his offspring would only put her in even more mortal danger from his enemies.

but eva had insisted, soothed him and reassured him. eva understood the risks of becoming a mother this way, and she was prepared to go through with it anyway.

dante was a mommy’s boy and vergil was a daddy’s boy

sparda was a great storyteller. he would recount in great detail his various adventures to the children, or sometimes read his favourite books to them. dante was only interested in stories where the hero defeats the bad guy, whereas vergil would soak up anything his father told him. thus, vergil was privy to many stories that dante wasn’t.

by the time the twins were young children, sparda had aged considerably since he first married eva, meaning his power had begun to dwindle. this meant he was away from home more often, because more and more demons were beginning to break into the human world.

and once mundus figured out that sparda had fathered children (with a human woman, no less) they’d begun to target the wife and kids.

dante specifically remembered waiting for his father to return on several different occasions, but being disappointed many times. vergil however, understood that sparda was protecting them, because he was the strongest, and there was no one else who could.

the twins often bickered about this. vergil would remind him that his little attitude towards father was “foolish”. at which point dante would try and hit him in the face. (he only managed to actually hit vergil half the time)

while sparda was gone, the twins would stay with eva. sparda’s excursions grew longer and longer, until one day he did not return at all.

dante in his youth held a grudge against his father for his absentee behavior, but it wasn’t until he was much older where he finally understood where his father was coming from. and dante too had become like his old man in thay regard, pushing loved ones away with the intention of protecting them.

and it wasn’t until much later that vergil had finally realised that sparda’s love was his driving force behind the immense power he wielded; sparda’s love for the beauty of humanity. a realisation that had come far too late for vergil.

if sparda and eva had’ve known how it ended for them and given a chance to take it all back, they wouldn’t do it. they knew what they were getting themselves into when they chose to bring dante and vergil into the world. the only regret they would’ve had is not being able to spend more time together as a family.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Long & Lost

Pairing: Leone Abbacchio x Reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Abbacchio, obsession, stalking, mentions of violence, allusion to kidnapping and forced marriage.

Words: 5445.

Summary: You needed to call him, you told yourself firmly and grabbed the phone, trying to stay determined. You needed to at least figure out if Abbacchio were alive and well. In the end, nobody forced you to tell him he had a son in that very moment, right? You'd tell him if he proved he deserved to know.

_______________________

Holding a crumpled piece of paper with Libeccio's number on it in your hand, you looked at the phone in front of you and sighed, unsure what to do. You'd heard Abbacchio was seen in that restaurant multiple times, so there really was a chance of you finally finding him, but you didn't know if you needed it that desperately. You knew what he had been through, and you doubted there was anything left of the man you loved once. But then you glanced at the photo of you little son on your desk and thought that your child deserved to have a chance to know his father - that is, if Leone would be willing to see his own child. Otherwise you'd have to come up with some sad story of your lovely boyfriend dying before he could get to know his son just like your mother advised you multiple times.

You little boy Dante was two years old now, and despite all the hardships related to raising him on your own, Dante still was your joy and pride. You realized you were pregnant almost right after Leone broke up with you: that time you were just a student with little to no means of support, and it hit you hard but you decided to keep your child, nevertheless. You couldn't bring yourself to get rid of him, and now you were thankful to that innocent young girl for the decision she made. Dante was your world.

But the older he got, the more you thought what would happen when one day he would ask you where's his dad. All children have a dad, haven't they? Then he should have one, too. You feared that moment, knowing you barely could tell your son the truth: your father doesn't even know about your existence.

By the time you decided to keep your child, Abbacchio already got himself in troubles, getting mixed up with some street thugs. You heard his partner even died because Leone couldn't pull the trigger, afraid those thugs gonna report him to police. Was it all true? You wanted to know it so desperately you went to see him in a detention facility, but Abbacchio you met weren't his old self. He was just a shadow of a man he'd been once, and despite all your efforts he remained broken, silently awaiting for the court to give him the punishment he deserved. You realized you were going to raise your child all alone, but it didn't deter you. In fact, when Leone finally got out, you even tried contacting him again and sending him some money until he figured things out. Of course, when you found out he spent all those money on cheap wine, you stopped doing it - your baby needed you more than him. After that you dropped all your attempts to keep in contact with the father of your child, and he had never learnt about Dante. It's for the best, your mother were telling you over and over again. A child doesn't need a dad who can't take care of himself, less of his family. Besides, was Abbacchio even as good as you imagined him to be? He was as corrupted as all those cops he hated so much while being in a police academy, your mother reminded you. Maybe she was right.

Dropping out of school to provide for your son, you had been through six kinds of hell in the last three years. There wasn't a job you hadn't done: scrubbing floors, delivering pizza, running errands for wealthy families, selling flowers and cheap makeup... and on top of it you had to take care of your child having no knowledge how to do it properly. Thankfully, your mother was there to give you a hand, and you were grateful for her help even if she had been scolding all the time for ruining your life so early. Did you know how hard it would be for you to get married, she asked you all the time while you were getting home late at night, tired to death. Do you realize people are calling you rotten behind your back because your son has no father, she kept saying over and over again trying to make you guilty, but you learnt not to listen. What's done is done. Who cares what people say if they will find a reason to humiliate you one way or the other?

You kept working, changing jobs and slowly getting a better salary, finding yourself a better place: you were now working as a manager in a candy store, its owners a nice married couple old enough to be your grandparents. You earned enough to live decently, and now you could afford buying your son new clothes instead of asking your friends and acquaintances for something their own kids and brothers wore once. Signora Russo, the one who was in charge of the store, treated you kindly, ready to give you some time off if Dante needed to be taken to doctor or somewhere else important. You also worked close to home, and if anything happened you could always storm off, telling the store clerk you'd be gone for a half an hour or so.

Life was good to you, you thought, your baby's bright smile making you feel much better in an instant. Dante had Leone's eyes, his hair of the very same shade.

You needed to call him, you told yourself firmly and grabbed the phone, trying to stay determined. You needed to at least figure out if Abbacchio were alive and well. In the end, nobody forced you to tell him he had a son in that very moment, right? You'd tell him if he proved he deserved to know.

"I'm looking for Leone Abbacchio." You said to the man on the other end of that phone, shivering from the thought you might really hear him the next minute. Shit, you really hoped he wasn't there.

"What is your name, Signora?" The stranger asked politely, and you were ready to drop the phone and run to the other room where your son was already laying asleep in his tiny bed,

Clenching your teeth, you told the man your name. Was Abbacchio really there? You ended up chewing phone's wire, that's how nervous you were, thinking what you were going to say and how he might react. Was he still bitter? Did he finally sort things out for himself? Did he stopped drinking? Was he going to accuse of not supporting him during his worst years?

"He is coming, Signora." The stranger told you calmly, and you felt your heart dropping somewhere to your stomach. Dio Mio, Leone was there. Those rumors were true, he was really there!

But before you mentally prepared yourself, you heard his low voice on the other side of the phone, his tone icy cold as if he wanted to never hear from you again. "Abbacchio."

You slowly got down on your chair with your palm rubbing your forehead tiredly. It seemed he was that very same Abbacchio who walked out the prison a couple of years ago, just a bit more sober this time. Funny, you thought things had changed for him, didn't you? You believed in people too much, that's what both your mother and Signora Russo would say, exchanging glances.

"Hi." You told him quietly, your eyes on the framed photo of your smiling son. "Haven't heard from you for a long time, Leone."

He let out a sound of irritation you knew a little too well, and you're very much aware he thought you're a traitor who left him behind when it had been him who broke up with you years ago. That was his problem, thinking people around had always owned him something, easily forgetting all the good things that were done for him once. You realized you were thinking about the same prior to a break up, wondering if your relationships were going to last if Abbacchio was going to behave the same way.

"What do you want? I don't have much time for you." He snorted, and despite you being so far from him during all that time, it still hurt so bad you clenched the phone in your hand, your eyes almost swelling with tears at his words. Did he felt better hurting you? You bet he did, having his revenge over someone who had nothing to do with him choosing his path. "Bucciarati's waiting for me, so be quick."

Bucciarati. He was referring to the man who had been seen with him, but you hoped it was just a rumor, too. You were well aware who Bucciarati was: all delivery guys and girls knew him and many other men with whom you shouldn't get mixed up. Passione was a power to reckon with even if you were talking about some low profile gangster who just got into a gang.

So, all those rumors were true. Abbacchio changed his side completely and joined mafia just like many other broken men before him. The next moment you realized how futile were your attempts to unite what you called a family in your dreams: were you really trying to let your child meet his father, a damn criminal who was probably murdering other people? Selling drugs? Beating the shit out of Passione's debtors? That was the man you wanted to entrust your beloved child?

"Sorry for bother." You said calmly, letting out a phone's wire you were getting close to torn into pieces. "I just wanted to know how you were."

"I'm good. Thanks for your concern." The man said before hanging up, and you staid frozen in your chair, listening to a dial tone. You were both sad and relieved at the same time, thinking how you had just saved your boy from so many troubles that would definitely arise if Leone knew he had a son. No, Dante didn't deserve a father like this. It wasn't his fault Abbacchio was long gone, and you weren't gonna spoil your child's life even if people would continue whispering your son was someone's bastard.

__________________

You didn't know the man got suspicious after your call, thinking you were up to something: he thought as low of you as of anyone he met prior to his encounter with Bucciarati. In Abbacchio's mind you all had betrayed him when he needed you the most, quickly disregarding your attempts to help him stay afloat with little money you had been sending him. Being extremely bitter, he felt the urge to dig up something about you, hoping you were in such deep shit you needed a help of a man like him. He was sure you were well-aware of his change of occupation, and it brought him a twisted satisfaction thinking of you whoring to him for his help. The only thing he found odd was that you didn't voice your plea. Did you get so scared of him you decided not to ask him for a favor? Abbacchio desperately wanted to know.

Finding out where you worked was an easy thing, and soon Abbacchio knew who you were now and how much you earned. It surprised him that you worked in a candy store: Leone remembered you were preparing to become a teacher. Did you drop out of university? He discovered you did. It was odd to him, remembering how eager you were to study. Why?

He found out the reason when he saw you walking with your baby boy during the weekend, Dante's tiny arm in yours as he was hurrying to the toy store window, then pressing his palms to the glace and watching a beautiful red toy train moving behind the window. The boy had his hair and his eyes. It wasn't hard to realize whose son that cheerful little boy was.

Abbacchio admitted with shame he wasn't prepared to it, quickly getting away as far as he could as if he couldn't look at the face of his own child. He had never thought something like that was possible: him? Being a father? Sure, Abbacchio wasn't a virgin, but the thought of someone having his child had never crossed his mind. At first he even tried thinking the child couldn't be his: how old the boy was? Wasn't he too young to be his son? By the time he was born Abbacchio had already been imprisoned.

"Doesn't mean she couldn't get pregnant while we still dated." He thought with shame, finding out Dante's birth date and realizing it was very much the reality.

Besides, his boy looked so much like him it was silly to pretend Dante wasn't Abbacchio's son. A part of him instantly got enraged with your decision to raise the boy on your own, not even letting his father know about his existence, but the man quickly cooled down, perfectly understanding why a drunkard he was then wouldn't make a good parent. You did nothing wrong. You even sent him money while you needed them much more than him.

Abbacchio still couldn't understand why you didn't abort an illegitimate child you weren't ready to bring up on your own - he wouldn't judge you if you did. You had been so young, almost a child yourself, barely able to take care of your own life while you had to provide for your son now. Your family wasn't rich, and he could imagine how much you struggled to stay afloat. Still, you kept your baby, your little boy you had been taking such a good care of: Abbacchio spied on you, stalking you while you walked with Dante or played outside, watching through your windows how you cooked and read him fairytales and tucked him to sleep. You were a good mother.

When Leone thought the only reason you called him was to let him know he had a son, he was ready to bang his head against a concrete wall. He knew why you ended up keeping quiet: he failed the test, talking to you as if he hated you to death and then mentioning Bucciarati's name. Bruno had been well-known in your area, and now you knew Abbacchio became a gangster. No mother would entrust her child to someone like him, and it had been his fault all alone, he realized that.

But he just couldn't leave you and his child without even acknowledging he knew he had a son. Even if Abbacchio wouldn't be the best father, he could still try his best: after Giorno became the next Don, he made Bucciarati's gang his own Unità Speciale, and Abbacchio was now a respected member of Passione with a fat wallet. With his help you could afford much more, moving to a more comfortable place, having better food and clothes, getting Dante to a better school once he grew up a bit. In the end, Leone could protect the both of you much better than you, just a simple woman who had to raise her son in a city full of criminals. He wasn't a drunkard with no goal but to drown out his day anymore.

That's why one day he showed up near the building where you lived, watching your mother taking her grandson and leading him to the apartment where you all lived while you hurried to the store to buy some food. He barely stopped himself from calling your mother, eager to take his boy in his hands, see his smile and chubby cheeks, ruffle his light grey hair and hear him laughing. No, Leone had to talk to you first, and it wasn't going to be easy.

Once you came back, a grocery bag in your hand, your face tired, he was waiting for you near a bench, and you flinched upon seeing him, your eyes getting wide. You surely didn't expect him to be there, least to give you something that almost looked like a smile.

Oh, you had a bad feeling about all that. Your hateful ex wouldn't just show up for no reason, you knew.

"Hello." He said surprisingly politely, and you started nervously chewing your lips. What did he want?

"Hello, Leone." You tried to keep your tone neutral to appear calm. "Good to see you looking well. Sorry, I'm in a rush, let's talk some other time."

Continuing to walk, you did your best passing him to hide in the hall of the building where you lived, but no one could brush off Abbacchio easily.

"I know." He said loudly as if he were afraid you would disappear before talking to him, almost ready to grab your arm but staying on his place when you stopped. "I know about him. About my son."

"He is my son." You roared like a lion, your hands clenched into fists when you turned your head to your former lover, but instead of getting intimidated or irritated the man felt proud: you were the best mother for his child Abbacchio could wish for.

"Of course."

There was no threat in his voice, and you relaxed a little, taking a deep breath and coming closer to the man still waiting for you near the bench. You didn't want to start a war, not with a man of Passione, unless Leone was going to take Dante away from you. You had to figure out what Abbacchio wanted.

"I haven't come here to steal the boy from you." He said, and you exhaled loudly, your palms shaking lightly. "I know you're a good mother."

You wanted to feel relieved, but something on the back of your mind told you Abbacchio wasn't there to compliment you and go away. He wanted something. What? Even if he knew you gave birth to his child, he had little to do with him now.

"I am." You admitted, unwilling to pretend to be polite anymore and hoping you'd get things sorted out before your mother started worrying about you. "Leone, what do you want?"

Your voice sounded harsh, and the man straigthen his back, getting closer to you: Abbacchio knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it wasn't your fault you wanted your child to be safe, thinking his father was a threat to him. It was up to Abbacchio to prove you he wasn't, eager to keep his boy safe and sound.

"Please, let me see him." He asked you, and you heard a plea in his voice. You couldn't remember when was the last time it happened. "I know what you think of me, and you're right about many things, but I want my child to know me."

"And what is he going to do with this knowledge?" You narrowed your eyes at your ex-boyfriend, rage boiling deep inside your chest. "What's it to Dante?"

"I will take care of him. And you."

Smirking, you shook your head, unable to believe him. Look, that son of a bitch was being so sweet to you now, pretending like meddling with his son's life wasn't a question of his enormous ego, that's what you thought. Did he really imagine you'd let him get close to Dante after you found out who he became?

"We don't need your help, thank you very much." You snorted, your fists clenched so tight it hurt you, nails digging into the skin.

"Then why did you call?"

Your eyes were getting wet as you chewed your lips to pieces, eating your lipstick and trying not to show the man your crying face. Abbacchio didn't deserve to see you like this. Of course, you shouldn't have called him. You desire to make things right only brought you more problems, as usual. It was even worse since now it concerned not only you but your baby, too. Dio Mio, why did you do it? Why did you try to talk to Abbacchio before finding out what he was doing now?

"To see if you got better." You said sarcastically, shaking your head in disbelief. "I thought I might tell you that you have a son, you know, if you sorted things out for yourself."

"I did." His voice sounded louder again when the man was getting emotional, both desperation and anger on his face. "I don't have an issue with drinking anymore. I don't even remember the last time I got drunk."

Taking a step back when he was dangerously close to you, you snorted, "Yeah, you just kill people now. Being a mafia's guard dog is so much better than being an alcoholic."

You could see Abbacchio getting furious, but you couldn't back down now when he was obviously determined to meet Dante despite all your warnings. Had he thought what it meant to be a son of a gangster? Did he imagine what his boy would have to go through just because his father belonged with Passione? You didn't care about his money or what Leone could give you, you were able to provide for Dante yourself. You couldn't, however, protect him against criminals who would come after him and you to have their revenge against Abbacchio. You'd have to watch your back all the time, but they would find a way to get to you, you were sure of it. Why didn't Abbacchio think about that? Was he so full of himself he thought he could protect your son at all costs?

Of course, it was his enormous ego again.

"I'm not gonna pretend my job has nothing to do with murder, but I'm not some Passione soldato anymore. I work directly for the new Don, and nobody gonna touch you and Dante once people know."

"Leone, please stop. I watched two delivery guys getting shot by men of Passione." You could barely hold your tears. "Don't you tell me my boy will grow up knowing that's what his dad is doing for life. Leave him alone for his own good! Let me give him a story about his policeman father getting fatally shot while on duty, and he will know his father was a hero."

Watching your eyes swelling with tears, the man in front of let out a sigh: he still couldn't watch you cry despite spending years apart. He fought the urge to come closer and touch your cheek, offering you some comfort, but he realized you would brush him off, not wanting the long lost intimacy. You weren't his beloved. Funny enough, he broke up with you himself, although now Abbacchio couldn't even remember why.

"He can have a true father instead of some fake legend." The man whispered, watching tears finally streaming down your cheeks.

"Give him a privilege to stay far away from this filth." Even though you kept wiping your face with the back of your palm, tears didn't stop falling, leaving dark spots on your pretty blue blouse. "Please, Leone. We both pay our experiences on our skin, but he isn't at fault just because he was born to us. Please... give him a chance to become a good man."

Abbacchio realized he wasn't able to get his way with you after what you had said. He just couldn't, knowing you were right. His son didn't deserve this.

_____________________

From that day he left you alone just as he had promised. Sometimes you got gifts with no notes, but you didn't need them, knowing where they came from: Abbacchio sent Dante expensive toys, the first one being that very same red train your boy wanted so much; then there were clothes, pretty little shoes, once you even got a new bed for him. Some stuff was for you, like that box of chocolate you loved once or a pair of golden earrings you had never worn. You wished he didn't send you anything at all, but receiving gifts from time to time was still better than having Leone at your door, willing to take your son away from you. Anyway, it wasn't Abbacchio himself delivering those things. No one was gonna make a hustle over something so inconsiderable, that's what you thought.

Silly you, thinking his enemies were stupid enough they couldn't trace those little gifts Leone had been sending someone over and over again. It was so much out of his character it was obvious the person had been important to him, and once they found out it was a young woman with a child who looked so much like him, it wasn't a secret anymore.

As the days passed, nothing changing in your life drastically, you had finally relaxed, thinking of taking a vacation and leaving the town for a week or two; your mother would certainly appreciated it after all this time. You were walking down the street with Dante's hand in yours when it all happened, a large white van stopping near you, a man getting out of it so quickly you had no time to react, looking at the gun he was covering with a newspaper.

"Get in there." The stranger growled, his eyes darting towards your baby boy. "Him too."

Freezing at your spot, you grabbed Dante's hand so hard he was going to cry, watching you and some man he didn't recognize staring at each other intensely. You wanted to shout, yell loudly so the whole street would hear you, but you were staring at the black gun's muzzle, and everything inside you got cold from the thought that man would shoot without a second thought, throwing your child inside the van once he'd be done with you. You certainly weren't immortal to withstand a few bullets from such distance.

You got inside without a word, holding Dante in your hands and trying to see in the darkness: the van had no windows on the back, and everything there was pitch black. It didn't matter, though, as once you turned up inside somebody had injected a syringe deep into your neck, and the world turned black in a couple of seconds, your baby's scream ringing in your ears.

Your poor little boy. You knew one day it would happen to him even if Abbacchio stayed away from the two of you.

By the time you woke up in some unknown place on a large, comfortable bed, it had already been late night, the moon shining bright in the night sky. You tried getting up immediately, but the dull headache made you groan and almost fell down the floor before somebody's strong arms caught you, carefully placing you back on the bed. You saw Abbacchio's worried face inches from yours, his brows furrowed as he watched you, afraid you might be in pain.

"Are you alright?" He managed to say, but you didn't bother answering him, your hand grabbing his as you tried getting up again only to be pressed into bed.

"Where's Dante?" Your voice sounded hoarse. "Where's he?!"

You remembered what had happened even despite that headache: a street, a van, the man with a gun wrapped in a newspaper, the lack of light on the backseat. Somebody had kidnapped your son and you, and nothing was making you go more mad than the absence of your baby, probably brought God knew where by the criminals. Shit, what had they done to him?!

"Calm down." Abbacchio's voice was both caring and strict as he clenched your wrists, pinning you to bed. "You will wake him up if you scream."

"Is he here? Is he here?" You kept asking, your body shaking from the thought Dante could be severely injured.

"Yes, he's safe. Nobody touched one hair on his head." Carefully helping you sit on the bed, Abbacchio pulled you to him, letting you rest your head on his half-naked chest, his skin becoming damp from tears streaming down your face: you were in deep shock, shivering, unable to pull yourself together, but nobody could blame you. "Narancia's with him now in the room next to ours. He's perfectly alright."

You couldn't utter a word, crying so hard and wrapping your arms around Leone as if you were drowning in the sea, and he was your lifeline. You needed him so desperately you couldn't let him go for a couple of minutes, weeping quietly against his chest. When was the last time it happened? Abbacchio couldn't remember, but the feeling of you needing him awoken something in the man, something he had long forgotten. Leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, he snuggled you closer to him, whispering words of comfort into your ear as if you were a little girl, and then started gently stroking your back.

He missed it. He missed somebody's warmth as much as you missed it, too, but you had your dear boy, and Abbacchio had no one. Of course, he would die for Bucciarati, and the gang became like a family to him, but a having a family with you was something much, much different. Waking up next to you, snoring lightly in your sleep as you hug your pillow, and nuzzling against your soft, warm body until your boy wakes up the two of you, and you hurry to feed him while Abbacchio is helping him dress. He would let Dante sit on his shoulders while all of you walk, and you'd laugh, watching the man nag when the baby was going to grab his hair too tightly.

He'd see his boy growing up, always there to give him a hand when he needed it the most, and help you to take all that weight from your shoulders you had been carrying for years. You didn't deserve living like this, struggling to raise Dante on your own just because you happened to get pregnant from a useless man like Abbacchio. He wouldn't make you go through all this alone when he was perfectly capable of taking care of both you and his son.

Especially now when you had been attacked so suddenly, and if he wouldn't be close, stalking you like he always did week after week, Leone was afraid to think what would happen.

"You're safe, principessa." He muttered, leaving on more kiss on the top your head, and you smiled weakly: you still remembered him calling you like that when you two still dated. "And Dante's too. I will ask Narancia to bring him to you if you promise to be quiet. It's very hard to make your baby sleep, you know that?"

You chuckled at his attempt to humor you, trying to wipe the tears away. "That's because he has your genes, and you're stubborn like a mule."

"Very much so." Abbacchio chuckled, too, and carefully stood up, motioning you to keep quiet as you stared at him nervously.

When he returned with Narancia gently cradling your boy in his arms, you covered your mouth with your palm, instantly getting of the bed and watching your baby sleep soundly - the guy holding him looked like a baby, too, but you admitted how careful he was with Dante, humming something quietly to keep the boy asleep. Although you wanted to take Dante in your arms, you knew you risked waking him up, and he certainly didn't need more stress after today's events. Nodding to Narancia and mouthing him thank you, you returned to sit on the bed, waiting for Abbacchio. He came back right after closing the door after the guy carrying Dante.

"Thank you." You mumbled, your eyes puffy from crying and rubbing them, your eyes looking down. "Thank you so much for saving him."

"What are you saying?' The man landed next to you and enveloped you in a hug, letting your head rest on his shoulder. "You are my family. I won't ever abandon you."

No, he wouldn't. Soon enough he'd convince you that living on your own was no longer an option, and after you'd move in he would find a way to convince you to marry him, giving both you and his son the family you deserved. He was sure neither Giorno nor Bruno would be against it as both of them were going to get married, too, and they could understand what it meant to take care of their loved ones. Abbacchio would keep you safe, ready to provide you with everything you needed so you wouldn't have to worry about working or spending your time elsewhere but home.

Abbacchio would give his son a chance to become a good man, but he didn't need to become a shadow from his son's past. He had a family to take care of, the ones who needed him much more than anyone else ever did.

[queenmuzz]

"I'm pretty sure she's my soulmate" Nero talking to vergil about kyrie

Vergil observed his son as he interacted with the girl (No...he needed to refer to her by her proper name, he hadn’t said it out loud, but he had a feeling a fight would break out if he called her ‘that girl’ within earshot of Nero).  He saw the way they looked at each other, the little touches they did as they did the most mundane of things.  The way Nero threw his head back to laugh at a corny joke she had told, the way she leaned against his shoulder in the rare moments of calm.

Vergil had seen those things before, many, many, years ago.  The way they acted was almost a carbon copy of how his parents acted.  Even with nearly four decades of distance, he remembered quite clearly how his parents would speak in soft voices to each other, an unspoken meaning he hadn’t quite understood, and still hadn’t quite understood.  More concernedly, sometimes he felt those memories, not of his parents, but himself and someone else.

So, after thinking quite hard about it, he decided to take the plunge and ask about it.  What was the worst that could happen?  His son might swear (not in front of their three children or Kyrie though), and kick him out.  And a week later, he’d be back to his normal, cocky self.

So, a night when everyone except the two men were sleeping, he broached the subject.

“You and Miss Kyrie seem quite happy with each other…”  he attempted to casually observe, sipping on the ‘signature’ house drink Nero made.  Hot Chocolate, with a dollop of melted homemade caramel mixed in.  “Yeah, well..” even in the darkness, Vergil could see the blood flush up to his son’s cheeks.  “We’ve known each other for quite a while, since we were little kids.”  

“I see.”

“It’s amazing, here I was, some kid that nobody wanted anything to do with, and she never ever even implied that there was anything wrong with me.  When we were younger, to her, I was ‘Nero, her best friend.’”  He smiled to himself, “Of course, as we got older, I thought ‘Okay...we’re probably going to drift apart, go our own separate ways, but she always stuck by me, and even when she found out I might be part demon, she never, ever, once treated me differently.  What’s weird was, with her, I felt like I really belonged…”

Vergil remained silent.  He wasn’t usually into these heart to heart talks, and Nero had evidently inherited that from him as well, but it was fascinating to get a glimpse of what lay under that caustic exterior.

“You know, I’m pretty sure she’s my soulmate.”

Those eight words hit Vergil hard.  Yes, it made sense, from his limited time spent with his son (quite far too little, he regretfully mused) he could tell.. The feeling that the two young people fit perfectly, like an expertly crafted dovetail joint, no glue or any fasteners needed.  So much like his parents… before fate interfered.  He quickly shoved that fear down, there would be no possible way his son would be forced into such a tragic situation.

“Since we’re into the emotional mushy wushy stuff that we never talk about usually...I guess this is as good a time to ask....” Nero scratched the bridge of his nose, a strangely familiar gesture, one Vergil had seen a long time ago, even if he couldn’t quite recall who did it.  “Did you and…” his son gulped, “Never mind, it’s just going to ruin the mood.”

“Speak your mind, Nero.”  He had a very good idea of what question was going to be asked, even if he wasn’t quite prepared to answer it.

The young man took a deep breath before taking the plunge.

“Did you have the same feelings for my mother?”

Vergil thought long and hard.  Ever since Dante had smacked him in the face with the fact he was a father, he had spent all the time he wasn’t fighting, ruminating.  Instinctively, he knew that Nero was his son, not some cruel joke perpetuated by his brother.  But for the identity of his mother…  that was a blank.  At first he had thought it might have been the work of Mundus, ripping out the memory of her, but the more he thought about it, the less he was convinced.  Mundus was crude, and he would have ripped her out, as well as anything related to that time and place.  No, this absence in his mind was more precise,  a woman shaped hole, similar to a cut out paper person.  Something only possible by only the sharpest of blades.  He quickly looked down at Yamato at his side.

But even with such a masterful weapon, the hand that had wielded it was still clumsy, the hands had trembled, leaving shreds and rips behind, like a painful hangnail.  A soft smile, a red dress, a beautiful laugh, and...if he thought hard enough enough,  a feeling of soft love that was cut tragically short.

“I think…” he admitted, hoping that he could someday find all those scattered puzzle pieces and put them back together, and somehow knowing they would fit perfectly 

“We did.”

[withoutmonsters]

Maybe I’m Too Young (to Keep Good Love from Going Wrong)

tags: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced child neglect, a little bit of period typical homophobia, pining, so much pining, post s2, pre-s3

link to ao3

The broccoli sizzled when it hit the hot oil. Steve grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred it, getting all nice and coated in oil, before turning back to his cutting board and finishing chopping the florets. He hummed as he did, a Tears for Fears song that he had heard on the radio on the ride home. The sound of knuckles against a window startled him, and he whipped around. Through the cutout on the wall and the sliding glass doors, Steve could see Billy, smirking like a cat who got the cream and looking like a supermodel. Steve cursed him for surprising him, but crossed out of the kitchen and the living room.

He pulled open the door, glaring a bit. “What the fuck, Hargrove?”

Billy smirked. “What, pretty boy? It’s seven, you should’ve been expecting me.”

Steve glanced at the clock. It was, indeed, seven. “That doesn’t give you carte blanche to just startle me out of nowhere, dick.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that your door was locked and I couldn’t get in, right? I wasn’t trying to startle you.”

Steve huffed, not bothering to give a reply. He knew Billy was right, as Billy was in most things, but that didn’t mean that he liked to admit it.

His friendship with Billy was a strange one. It was made up of equal parts aggression and secrecy. There were so many unspoken words between them that sometimes it felt like it was choking Steve, but he was never going to admit that, especially to Billy. He didn’t know a lot about the other boy, but he treasured what he did know. Like that Billy liked eating vegetables with his meat. If there wasn’t something green on his plate, he’d grumble about it until Steve found some. Steve knew that Billy was constantly licking him lips because they were always chapped. He knew that Billy had three freckles stretched across the expanse of his carotid artery on his neck, lined up like Orion’s Belt. He knew that Billy chewed on his cuticles and that his knuckles were constantly bleeding, not because of fights but because he was perpetually working on the Camaro. He knew that Billy liked his coffee so sweet that it puckered Steve’s lips when he tried it and that Billy would always wear the same three shirts over and over and over again. Steve learned that Billy tied his shoes incredibly tight and would always wrap himself up in about four layers of blankets if he came even remotely close to a bed.

The things that Steve didn’t know about Billy were, somehow, much more than what he did. They seemed to fill up the space around Billy, flooding the air and expanding like some sort of invisible gas. Steve choked on Billy’s secrets sometimes, when Billy showed up at 2 am, battered and hurt and looking like he just lost a fight against a grizzly. Those were the times when Steve had so many words and yet none at all, when he felt like he would suffocate on the lack of his reassurances. Billy never asked for them. All Billy asked for, the first time and all the times since, was a bathroom sink to spread out the first aid supplies he kept in his car. The first time Steve had volunteered his own supplies, Billy had pushed him away until Steve got in his face, eyes locked and mouth hardened in an unforgiving line. He had pulled the same expression he pulled when the party decided to go off and do something so incredibly stupid like venture into demodog infested tunnels just because their friend was in danger. He had worn the authority of his borrowed paternal status, like a mantle on his shoulders, chin held high and head canted like a crown rested on it, and Billy had given in, slumping like Atlas under the weight of the world, bags under his eyes and breath in his chest and he looked, for a moment, like a child, young and sad and so tired that Steve had wanted to wrap him up like a lost kitten and never let him go.

It had only been for a moment. Because the next was ruined with Billy’s words spilling from his mouth, because you could never forget that this was Billy Hargrove, a perpetual snake spewing poison, aggressive and angry and so on fire that sometimes it took Steve’s breath away. Billy burned like a bonfire; he was always so alive, like no one else Steve had ever known. Steve’s life had been a ceaseless suburbia, gray days bleeding into dark nights, and he hadn’t realized how much of it he had missed until Billy had blazed into the school parking lot, Scorpions on blast and an engine roaring like some kind of animal. It was like, through his whole life, Steve had been dreaming, lucid eyes wandering under closed lids, with flashes of decisions that usually ended up with him gripping a bat impaled with nails and waiting for a monster straight out of Dante’s ninth circle coming for him with shark teeth and a flower-petal face and in those moments, he wished with all his ardent heart that he’d lived differently, that he’d changed and loved and hoped and wanted but he never could find the energy to lift a finger when all was said and done and he’d gone home, bruised and tired and feeling a few centuries too old for his body. When it was all over, all Steve was good for was sleeping. Sleeping and waiting like some dragon, sitting on his trove with nostrils open and eyes closed.

And then Billy had been there, looking like a predator, and something had awoken in Steve, flaring to life in his chest and blazing a path through his mind until all he could see was Billy Hargrove, bedroom eyes and his sneer curling his lips. That was all, some nights. All Steve dreamed was Billy’s voice sliding through his ears, Billy’s eyes giving him so many mixed signals that they made cocktails in his lungs, gasping and burning and slurring until all Steve felt was an overwhelming exasperation with himself and the boy across from him. And some nights it was a blank panic that blacked out his vision until Billy found him like that, bruised and hurt but still concerned, because under all his hatred, he was just a boy with too big a heart. On those nights, it was Billy taking care of Steve, even if he was limping like a stray dog, like a broken machine. Steve would cling to him because he was real, because he was firm muscle grounded on strong legs attached to feet firmly planted to the ground and Steve felt like he would float away if he didn’t hold on hold tight to Billy’s biceps until he was sobbing crying breaking in his living room with all the lights blazing through the doors and then Billy would scoop him up and sit with him until early morning, when Steve was sleeping the exhausted sleep of a small child and Billy needed to get home before Neil decided that he had more of a problem than normal with Billy’s nocturnal habits.

This was the friendship that these two boys shared, stolen affections under the table, eyes locked and smirks exchanged and elaborate rituals concocted so that they could share one soft moment, because Hawkins didn’t like boys who dared to be soft; because Hawkins would punish boys who dared to be soft.

Nobody knew—not even Nancy, who was, arguably, still Steve’s best friend despite the breakup. He wasn’t doing too well with friends these days, to be honest. He had ditched Tommy and Carol when he’d started dating Nancy, and he didn’t really regret it until it was late in the day and Tommy was still throwing him those glances that were at once hateful and longing, like he couldn’t quite decide if he wanted Steve to be the scum in the storm drains or the king of the school. It was those days that Steve pushed Billy extra hard, meeting him glare-for-glare and shove-for-shove. Because he didn’t want to see those eyes watching hm from across the court, a sneer and tears in the same expression. He didn’t want to see Tommy, the boy who he’d loved and hated in equal measure since he was five years old and starting kindergarten.

And Billy was a nice distraction. A great one, in fact, from everything in his life. From demodogs and gates and girls with too-wise eyes that cut through the armor that Steve wore to the deep dark hole inside of him that ate up all his love, until he was an empty husk and everyone who’d ever made an effort to be his friend was standing six feet away, the same distance a coffin took up. But with Billy, the coffin was already there. Six feet of emotional distance, at all times. Enough space to shove a coffin, skeleton rotting through the body and all, placed like armor, because for Billy, anything that was living was potential to be hurt, and that meant weakness. And Billy wasn’t weak. Didn’t let himself be weak. Steve found it exhausting sometimes, the self-possession that Billy held. He kept it aloft, all the time, in rain or sun, through even his most deranged moments. At first, Steve thought he was wildly uncontrolled, a newborn colt kicking out at whatever he could reach, even if that was the life-giving mare right next to him. But the night at the Byers’ had made something painfully apparent: no, Billy wasn’t out of control. He was always, always in control, even if he was bashing his head into Steve’s like he didn’t care if he got a concussion. He knew everyone’s movements three steps ahead, and took the time to consider all of them and then make his own move; and most of the time, it was the worst move he could’ve made, designed specifically to hurt the most. He drove everyone away, with the careful precision of a surgeon overlaid by the brute force of a battering ram. It was distinctly Billy: strong and destructive and so completely unstoppable.

Billy leaned against the counter, blue eyes taking in too much as Steve fumbled with the broccoli florets. Steve’s nanny had taught him to cook in middle school. She had let him lurk in the kitchen as she moved about like a graceful ghost, hands quick and clever, eyes focused. Steve had asked to help one day, because the nights when she cooked were the closest he had gotten to family dinners in years, and she gave him a smile and showed him. When she was officially unemployed by the Harringtons, Steve kept in touch with her, receiving recipes weekly from her. It was something that endlessly fascinated Billy for some reason, Steve’s ability to cook. The first time he’d stayed for dinner, his eyes had been pinned to Steve the whole night. Steve had shifted, awkward under his stare, wondering if it would always be like that.

Steve added the broccoli heads, stirring until they were coated. After he was done with the broccoli, Steve added the chicken, cut up into bite sized pieces, to brown. Billy went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, silently offering to get one for Steve, too. Steve shook his head, motioning to the bottle of wine that he had opened when he started cooking dinner.

Billy’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Bougie wine mom,” he joked, voice gently teasing, and Steve wrinkled his nose at him.

They sat down to dinner in comfortable silence, forks clinking against plates and the sounds of chewing the only conversation. Steve didn’t mind; in fact, he enjoyed nights like these, where Billy was quietly soft, more focused on his own inner narrative than what is going on around him. The first few nights like this, Billy had swung between awkward and aggressive, until they had actually sat down to eat food and then Billy had dug in like a starving dog and suddenly the bubble of awkward dancing around each other was popped and it felt like they had been doing this since they were children.

“Damn,” Billy had muttered. “This is really good, Harrington.”

Steve’s cooking skills had spawned a slew of mom jokes from him, as well, but Steve weathered them good-naturedly because when Billy was teasing him about his cooking, he wasn’t flirting. And that was sort of the goal, for these nights. To avoid flirting with Billy Hargrove, because it was becoming more and more apparent that Steve was beginning to like him too much for his own good.

And he couldn’t like Billy, because liking Billy meant wanting Billy and if it was one thing that Steve knew for certain, it was that wanting Billy would kill him. It wouldn’t be the demodogs, it wouldn’t be the Mind Flayer—hell, it wouldn’t even be the snowy roads in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere, Indiana, that never got salted after a storm and were always perilous to drive. No, it would be the sheer wanting of Billy Hargrove.

And Steve couldn’t say he didn’t look forward to that day, but he also wasn’t the one who relished pain like Billy. He couldn’t laugh through a punch; he couldn’t make it seem like it was simultaneously all a big joke and deathly-serious at the same time. Steve didn’t like pain despite the number of fights he lost.

But Billy—Billy was the kind of pain he kept poking at. In the early mornings when the sun hadn’t quite risen yet, in the dark of night when the maws of the Demogorgon ate up his dreams, in the bright daylight at school when Steve could see Billy’s face all to clearly, he poked at it. It felt a little like a sore tooth; he could walk on it, chew with it, move with it, but it wasn’t comfortable.

Billy finished all the food on his plate in record time and got up to get more. Steve watched him go, thinking about how that broad back was always turned to him, even when Billy was walking toward him, and it hurt something deep inside of him, but he wouldn’t say anything.

There was nothing to say. There was food to eat, and a hungry boy to feed, and perhaps some bruises to tend. What there was not something between them. Steve could survive this strange friendship with Billy, but he couldn't survive love.

[subarublue]

Sparda Family Bonding Time Series - Part 2

Series Description: It’s family bonding time! Sparda family style! A series of short stories revolving around platonic familial relationships between the members of the DMC crew. Warning: Lots of fluff and bonding ahead.

One Shot

Title: The Apple Never Falls Far From the Tree

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Post DMC5

Rating: G

Word Count: 3450

Read on Ao3

Summary: Dante gave his brother a pointed stare that clearly stated: Isn’t there something you should be doing right now? Which Vergil pointedly ignored as he turned his eyes elsewhere. Dante sighed.

They hadn’t been back from the underworld for long and this was the first chance Vergil really had to try and connect with his son...and of course he was getting cold feet.

Notes: Not too sure I’m any good at writing Vergil, but hopefully this turned out okay. Sorry if he’s a bit ooc.

Dante watched his brother closely. To anyone else at the table, Vergil probably looked calm, stoic, detached even. But Dante knew better. They were brothers, after all; twins in fact. Yeah, sure there was about a twenty year span of no contact between them (no, Dante did NOT count Mallet Island), but they did grow up together as children. Nobody knew Vergil better than him.

And Dante could tell that Vergil was nervous.

It was in the way he gripped the fork in his hand so tightly, his rigid posture, the way his eyes kept darting around the room, taking in his surroundings as if keeping all escape routes open even though it was unnecessary...until they landed on Dante himself.

Dante gave his brother a pointed stare that clearly stated: Isn’t there something you should be doing right now? Which Vergil pointedly ignored as he turned his eyes elsewhere. Dante huffed.

They hadn’t been back from the underworld for long and this was the first chance Vergil really had to try and connect with his son...and of course he was getting cold feet.

Dante supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, considering it was more than just the two of them and Nero sitting down to dinner. Neither of the brothers were the best at communicating, but Vergil was definitely worse considering his lack of experience. Especially since there were others present that he didn’t know very well.

Not that he knew Nero very well, either. Which is probably why he’d grilled Dante for information about his own son while they were stuck in Hell.

“What is Nero like?” Vergil’s question drew Dante’s attention to him. They were currently resting; no devils had found it necessary to try and kill them over the last few hours and sparring, as much as they enjoyed it, did get a bit old after a while. Honestly, Dante figured Vergil would ask eventually, since he couldn’t really discern that for himself now that they were stuck until they found a way home.

“Thought you got a pretty good taste of that already when he beat you.” Dante chuckled when Vergil shot him a glare.

“I meant under normal circumstances.” Vergil already sounded annoyed. Dante figured if he kept this up, it wouldn’t be long before they were fighting again.

“You mean when he’s not pissed at you?” Dante chuckled again when another glare came his way.

“As I recall, he was angry with you as well.”

Dante grimaced as he rubbed his chin, recalling the punch Nero had decked him with. He swore he could still feel it. “Yeah? Well, can you blame him? Kid grew up without any family and once he has one, seems like they’re just trying to kill each other. Course he’s gonna be pissed.”

“So…he grew up alone?” There was the slightest bit of regret laced in Vergil’s question.

Dante sighed. “Sort of.” Vergil turned to regard him as he spoke. “He grew up in an orphanage. Guess he got left there as a baby with no idea who his parents were. Not completely sure about the whole situation ‘cause I didn’t run into him until he was almost twenty. When we did meet, he had a girlfriend and she and her brother treated Nero like family, so I don’t think he was completely alone.”

Vergil looked at him confused for a moment and Dante could tell there was a question on his mind, about to be asked. “Who taught him swordsmanship, then? I thought perhaps you had, but he’s far too good to have learned since only twenty.”

“Ah, that would be Credo.” When Dante didn’t elaborate, Vergil knew he would have to ask since the name was unfamiliar to him.

“Who?”

“His girlfriend’s brother. He was the head of the Knights of the Order of the Sword at the time or something like that. Like I said, those two treated the kid like family.”

“I see.” Vergil looked away, becoming pensive for a moment. “Well, this Credo has been a good teacher for him, then.”

“Was.” When Dante spoke, Vergil turned to look at him in surprise. “He was a good teacher.”

“He is...” Vergil paused going through the various reasons for Dante’s choice of words in his head before deciding on the most likely one. “...dead?”

“Yeah.” It was hard to miss the frown on Dante’s face. It was so different from his normal countenance. “Died trying to save his sister and Nero from some crazed old maniac trying to use the bloodline of our dad for some idiotic world domination plan. That’s how the kid and I first met. I was there trying to stop the old dude. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it in time to save Credo. Nero or Kyrie either, but at least they were needed alive, so I was able to save them later. Guess the old fart thought his own general was expendable, though. Pretty sure the kid still blames himself for that one.”

Vergil went quiet after that, not saying anymore. Apparently, Dante had given him a few things to ponder on for a while.

That had been the first of many conversations about Nero they’d had while trapped in the underworld. Dante of course, hadn’t told Vergil everything, figuring that it would be better for him to discover some things about his son for himself, but he’d given him a start to grasp onto.

Now if only he’d take it.

Perhaps dinner at Nero’s wasn’t the best time to try and get Vergil to talk to his own son. There were too many other people for it to be comfortable to talk about something so personal. Dante only hoped that once dinner was finished Vergil wouldn’t try to beat a hasty retreat to one of those escape routes he seemed to be constantly looking for.

It was when Kyrie stood up to start clearing the table that Dante saw an opportunity. Nero usually helped her with it, but if someone else did…

“Here let me give you a hand with that, Kyrie.” Dante jumped up and immediately started helping her clear away the dirty dishes. This wasn’t exactly his style, but if it gave his brother some time to talk to his son in private, then he’d make an exception. Just this once, though.

“No! That’s alright! You’re a guest here. There’s no need for you to do that! Nero always-” She stopped short when she noticed Dante was covertly gesturing for her to look over her shoulder. When she turned, she saw Vergil doing his best to avoid eye contact with Nero, who seemed to be studying his father intently, but trying to be discreet about it. Of course, he was failing miserably.

It only took a second for the light bulb to go off in Kyrie’s head and she immediately began to play along. “Oh! I mean, of course! I could sure use the help. Thank you so much!”

This drew Nero’s attention to them. Dante met his gaze, then looked at Vergil and rolled his eyes, attempting to convey to his nephew without words that his father wanted to talk, but was being a coward about it. Maybe this way, Nero would take charge instead. He knew the kid wanted to talk to his father, so maybe knowing Vergil wanted to talk to him as well would help break the ice. Luckily, it worked and Nero nodded in response.

Kyrie had just dismissed the boys from the table and Nico had already booked it back to the garage to work on her next project when Dante heard Nero address his father. “Hey, I was gonna head out back and gets some fresh air. You can join me, if you’d like?”

Vergil’s head whipped around to look at his son while Dante and Kyrie slipped away into the kitchen, but they were still listening intently from just the other side of the door.

“That is…acceptable,” was Vergil’s reply.

Dante cringed. He couldn’t see Nero and Vergil anymore, but he could see Kyrie, and she was cringing, too. The unspoken words between them were conveyed with just that look: certainly not the best choice of words, but at least he hadn’t said no.

Thankfully, Nero seemed to take it in stride. “Come on, then. It’s this way.” A few moments later, they heard the back door shut as the two men stepped out onto the porch.

Kyrie looked at him, then. “If you want to keep an eye on them, you’ll be able to see them from the window over the sink. I won’t be able to hear them from outside so there’s no worry about me being privy to anything Vergil doesn’t want others to know, but you might be able to since your hearing is better so if you’d rather give them some privacy…” she trailed off, not sure how he wanted to go about this. The dishes could wait, if need be. This was far more important.

“We can keep an eye on ‘em. If they’re quiet enough, I shouldn’t be able to pick up on what they’re saying. And if I do hear anything, it’s probably gonna be something I already know. I doubt Verg will tell Nero his whole life story the first go around, but thanks for respecting his privacy, anyway.” Dante smiled at her. Nero couldn’t have made a better choice in a girlfriend. Kyrie smiled back and they set to work on the dishes while keeping an eye on the two men now standing on the back porch.

“So...Why did you leave?”

Vergil was jarred out of his thoughts when Nero suddenly spoke. He’d been standing there, admittedly a bit nervous, trying to sort through what would be the best thing to say. But what can you say to a son you practically abandoned?

In a way it was a relief that Nero spoke up first. It gave him a foothold to start with, at least. He was a bit surprised, though. It wasn’t hard to tell that Nero was just as nervous as he was. He was almost certain they would have stood out there the whole time without saying a word.

“You already know this. Yamato was necessary to close the portal. I had no choice but to go.” He knew he probably should have said more, but the words just wouldn’t come. Why was this so difficult?

“Yeah, I know that.” Nero already sounded annoyed and Vergil realized that if he tried to keep his distance, he’d ruin this chance to connect with his son. “I meant before I was born. Why did you...leave?”

Vergil blinked in surprise. That had not been what he thought Nero was referring to, though he supposed he should not have made assumptions in the first place. Of course his son would want to know about why he was left alone as a baby. And Vergil could tell there was more left unspoken than what Nero had conveyed: Why did you leave us? Why did you leave my mother? Why did you leave me? He recalled what Dante had said about how Nero grew up. He deserved an explanation, at the very least.

“I was unaware of your existence. Not that that is an excuse, but I...I was searching for my father’s power. I couldn’t find the answers I needed in Fortuna so I left. I had to.”

The hard look on Nero’s face softened slightly and gave Vergil a bit of confidence that maybe this wouldn’t be a total disaster.

“Why did you need your father’s power so much?” Nero was genuinely curious Vergil noted, but the reasons hit a bit too close to home for him at the moment. Someday. Someday he would tell him everything, but not now. This conversation should focus on his son, not himself.

“Because without strength, you cannot protect anything, let alone yourself.” He knew his answer was vague. They were the same words he’d spoken to his brother all those years ago, except Dante understood what he meant. He only hoped Nero wouldn’t prod further.

Nero, for his part, just looked at his father for a moment. Vergil was half afraid he would ask him to elaborate, but surprisingly, Nero seemed to understand there was a reason for his vagueness and let it slide. His son was perceptive. The barest hint of pride welled up in him and he decided he rather liked the feeling.

They were silent for a few more moments, and while it still felt a bit uncomfortable, it wasn’t nearly as bad as when they’d first stepped out on the porch. That was progress, he supposed.

Apparently, he was silent too long though, because Nero spoke up again, with a different question this time. “Would you have done things differently had you...known about me?”

Now how was he supposed to answer that? It was over twenty years ago. He had been young and determined. He was no longer the same person he was back then, but he feared what the true answer to that question could have been. Would things have been different if he’d known?

“I...don’t know. I’d like to think that I would have, but...” Vergil faltered, unsure of what real answer he could give Nero.

“But?” Nero prodded when he didn’t finish. He was looking at his father expectantly. Nero deserved to know the truth at least, Vergil decided, after everything he’d grown up without.

“I was young. I had a goal and nothing was going to stop me from getting what I wanted, not even my brother; my own flesh and blood.” The reality of what Vergil was trying to convey seemed to hit Nero, but he remained silent, allowing his father to finish. “I can’t say for sure if there was anything that would have swayed my decisions, but I’d like to think you would have. Forgive me if that’s not enough.”

Nero stared at his father. Vergil refused to meet his eyes, worried about what he might find there. Instead he set his gaze on nothing, simply staring out into the night and braced himself for whatever his son may have had to say in response.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have been enough once, but I’m okay with it now. You had your reasons, you didn’t know, and there’s nothing either of us can do to change it now. All we can do is move forward from here, I guess.”

Vergil turned in surprise to look at Nero. That was certainly not what he expected. He seemed to be a far cry from the angry young man he’d fought at the Qliphoth, but then again, that had been a rather tense situation.

Dante had warned him that Nero could be a bit hot-headed at times; that he sometimes let his emotions get the better of him and reacted without thinking. But this side of Nero, Vergil hadn’t anticipated, though it probably shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. This was his son, after all. Right now, he seemed far more mature than his young age would lead one to believe. That small hint of pride was swelling up within him even more now.

But there was also a deep sense of regret coupled with it. He’d missed everything. From before his son was even born until the moment he’d met him on that fateful day, he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen his son grow up over the years into the young man before him today and he felt a sudden overwhelming need to apologize for that as well.

“I’m sorry you grew up alone.”

Nero simply shrugged as if it was nothing, which Vergil knew was not the case. “I wasn’t completely alone. May not have been the best situation, but I had Kyrie and Credo so it wasn’t all bad.”

Vergil recalled what he’d heard from Dante about the two siblings that had been the closest thing to family Nero had while growing up. “Dante mentioned that this Credo taught you swordsmanship. I thought at first that perhaps Dante had, but he said you two did not meet until you were almost twenty.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Nero’s voice took on a hard edge, as did his expression. It was easy to see that thinking of his surrogate brother was still a painful memory for him. Vergil wasn’t sure he would be any good at comforting his son in this, but even he knew not trying would be a worse option.

“Dante told me what happened to him. I’m...sorry for the loss our father’s legacy has caused you.”

Nero didn’t respond and Vergil worried if maybe that had been the wrong thing to say, so he tried another approach. “He must have been a very good teacher. It shows in you.”

That got a response. Nero looked up in surprise at his father. “You...you mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Giving you a false sense of accomplishment would only hinder, not help you. I may have been tired from my fight with Dante, but it was easy to see your level of skill during ours. You learned well.” Vergil smirked then. He was aware that Dante could likely hear their conversation and would never pass up an opportunity to make a jab at his brother. “Far better than you would have if Dante had taught you.”

That got a laugh out of his son. “Definitely,” Nero agreed. “Dante wasn’t very straightforward about a lot of things, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Vergil was confused now. What could Nero mean by that?

“Well, I didn’t even know he and I were related until the Redgrave incident.”

Vergil’s confusion turned to surprise. Dante had never said anything to him before that? “He never told you?”

“Not until you disappeared through that portal after you put yourself back together. Dante kinda just dropped it on me so I wouldn’t keep trying to go after you.” Nero could tell by Vergil’s expression that he wasn’t too happy with his uncle. He certainly didn’t want them fighting again and decided to try and diffuse any possible problem before it could start. “But it’s alright, I guess. Can’t change it now, anyway. Makes me not feel so guilty about stabbing him the first time we met, though.”

That threw Vergil for a loop. “You...stabbed him?” Dante had somewhat glossed over his first meeting with Nero and Vergil was now realizing there may have been a reason for that.

“Yeah well, He kinda dropped in and assassinated the head of the Order in front of the whole congregation. I was a knight under Credo’s command, so we ended up in a fight. Pretty sure he was going easy on me. Still, I impaled him with his own sword because he went a little too easy on me.” The smugness in Nero’s voice was not lost on him.

But disbelief was on Vergil’s face at first. It didn’t last long though, before Nero’s story drew a wry chuckle out of him. He recalled a certain fight with his brother during the Temen-Ni-Gru incident which bore a similar ending for Dante.

“The apple never falls far from the tree, it seems.”

Father and son looked at each other in what might have been a nice moment for the two, but was interrupted by a very familiar voice yelling, “Aw! Come on!” from the direction of the kitchen window.

It was followed by the panicked sound of Kyrie’s voice asking, “Is everything okay?!” which had both men out on the back porch chuckling. Whatever conversation went on in the kitchen after that was blocked from their hearing, but it was unimportant in the moment anyway.

A silence fell over the two of them, but now it was no longer uncomfortable. That feeling of pride in his son, for what he had endured and what kind of life he’d made for himself, was back stronger than ever and Vergil felt the sudden urge to let Nero know how he felt.

“I’m proud of who you are.” Vergil looked his son in the eyes and watched as the reality of what he’d just said dawned on his son’s face.

Nero recovered quickly though, and what he said next Vergil knew he would never forget, for as long as he lived.

“Thanks...Dad.”

Vergil looked away out into the night, afraid of the amount of emotion he might be showing in his expression. But out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Nero was smiling. And now, he was too.

← Part 1 • Part 2 of this series • Part 3 →

[whattimeisitintokyo]

Ch 43 The Department of Family Reunions and Ch 44: Frangipani

It has come to my attention that I never uploaded the previous chapter onto Tumblr. Oopsy doopsy!

So here’s both the old and the new chapter in one package, all yours for free. Enjoy!

-

-

“C’mon, I’ve been waiting for over forty minutes now!”

“You said we were next in line!”

“It’s already eleven o’clock! We don’t have all night you know!”

Old Chicharron tried to ignore all of the complaints and shouts of the other restless spirits hanging around him as he marched towards his office with several heavy, ancient books under his arms. But then more came, some louder and angrier than others, and Chich’s very low tolerance for foolishness gave way. Twirling around he let out a sharp piercing whistle that made everyone in the whole department cringe and fall silent.

“All right, listen up!” Chich barked out once he had their attention. “Unless any of you still has some flesh clinging to your bones, you’ve been moved back on the list of my priorities right now! Héctor Rivera is priority number one, comprende?!”

“Ah, the Riveras have always been your favorites, cabrón!” one stupidly brave skeleton shouted back.

“Pah! Shows what you know! I don’t like anybody!” he snarled before turning his attention to the Rivera family, Leti in particular, with a warm smile. “Leticia, how nice to see you chiquita. Come on in, I have all I need to settle this mess. How’s your mamá?”

Having not let go of Leti’s hand since he had been reunited with her, Héctor was pulled from his seat as the rest of the family walked into the small man’s office. Marigold Station was huge, with several other departments and hundreds of skeletons walking and running about. But the Department of Family Reunions was where the most harried of skeletons seemed to be, trying to get to different ofrendas and fighting with weary customer service assistants. They too stared in awe at a living man walking amongst them and able to see and interact with them. But whatever wonder they had turned to ire when they realized that the living man and his family had just cut in line in front of them.

Héctor also noted that there were even more skull and bone motifs in the architecture, the wallpaper, even the floor tiles.

He was picking up a not-so-subtle theme here…

“Héctor Rivera, step up here by the desk.” Chich said grumpily as heaved the heavy books on top of the desk with a loud grunt and then took a seat. “Sorry there’s only one chair in here and it’s mine, so you’ll have to stand.”

“Oh, uh, that’s alright.”

“Can I get you anything? Coffee, water?”

“No gracias.”

“You’re cursed.”

“What?!” Héctor gasped, hearing his in-laws do the same behind and feeling Leti hugging him in fear. The blunt and tactless way he received his news was like another slap to his sore face. “How? How am I cursed?!”

“Well that’s easy.” Chich said as he pulled out a thick folder and started flipping through the pages. “Dia de Muertos is a night to give to the dead. You stole from the dead.”

“I didn’t steal anything!” Héctor said righteously.

“Oh really? Because the evidence is staring me right in the face.” He pointed down at the guitar still in Héctor’s grip. When Héctor looked down himself he seemed to wilt a little at that in embarrassment.

“Oh… well, I… Oh!” Héctor held up the guitar. “No no, you don’t understand! I wasn’t stealing the guitar. I was preventing my son from stealing the guitar! Very different, you see? Heh heh… heh.”

Looking around at everyone in order to get some sort of understanding, he was just met with unimpressed stares. Gaspar snorted out a laugh. “Wow, Miguel’s a thief? What kind of parenting do you do?”

“I am a good parent! That’s not the point!” Héctor whined pitifully. “Look, I didn’t mean to steal it, alright? I had no idea this would happen. So can you please undo this?”

Chich gave a fake, simpering smile and laugh. “Oho, is that so? Alright, let me fix that for you with my magical powers, amigo. Abracadabra, oh look you’re still cursed. Lo siento.”

“This makes no sense!” Héctor cried out. “How does picking up a guitar get me cursed to the afterlife? Many people have picked it up and taken it away for refurbishing over the years. Is it just because it was on Dia de Muertos?”

“No, not exactly.” Chich explained. “Sí, it being Dia de Muertos does play a big part in this but simply stealing from a grave or an ofrenda won’t get you cursed by itself. Otherwise the whole department would be swarmed with little living babies who’ve swiped a candy or a galleta for themselves. No, the real reason you are cursed is because that guitar is cursed.”

Everyone turned to look at the guitar with newfound apprehension, with both Gaspar and Mirasol stepping back slightly in case the curse would spread to them. Leti nodded slowly with dawning comprehension, letting out a soft ‘ohhh’ in understanding. Héctor was honestly… not surprised. He knew that music was a curse to him and his family, bringing more misery than good and hurting him so much. The fact that it was Ernesto’s guitar, whose memory brought a good portion of that pain, seemed very fitting.

“All right then,” he said. “So… what do I do to fix it?”

Pulling out one of the thick books on his desk, Chich absently shrugged. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know?!” Héctor stared at him wide-eyed and sputtered, then immediately leaned over the desk in agitation. “What do you mean you don’t know?! Isn’t this your job to know or whatever job skeletons have?!”

“I don’t know yet, just give me a minute!” Chich barked out and shoved Héctor’s face back with one hand. He flipped through the pages quickly, scanning them over. “Living people don’t come and go through the Land of the Dead very often, you know. Luckily for you you’re not the first one, I just gotta find his file.”

“You mean this has happened before, Senor Chicharron?” Leti asked.

With a grunt and a nod, Chich didn’t look up from his book. “Si, some guy got sick and was stuck in Limbo. And then… someone in the department messed up his Limbo retrieval and he ended up getting lost in the Alebrije Forest. We got him out and back to the Land of the Living, but he ended up making artwork out of the damn things now the whole world knows about alebrijes and I… someone got reprimanded for the whole thing and had their pay docked.”

“Oh sí, Alebrije Forest.” Gaspar laughed nervously. “The only place here besides the Land of the Dead where alebrijes reside in their thick forest, with lush greenery and fertile soil that no skeleton is allowed to go to. Yep, no one goes there. Not a single soul.”

Chich shook his head in disgust. “Dios mio, everybody knows about your black-market vegetables in the forest, Rivera, and nobody cares! Case in point, I’d like some mangos next time you get some. Aha, here it is. The Linares case.” Finding his spot on the page he quickly skimmed it over and gave out another grunt. “Well this should be easy. The only way to break a curse is to get a blessing from someone.”

“A blessing?” Héctor asked, finally getting the answers he needed he smiled and nodded with excitement. “A blessing. Okay, who do I get a blessing from? A priest, a nun? I’ll take one from anyone at this point.”

“It’s de la Cruz’s guitar, so you need de la Cruz’s blessing.”

“I’ll take one from anyone else at this point.”

Everyone groaned in exasperation as soon as he said it, even Dante made a snorting huff at him. Leti looked up at him with disappointment. “Oh Papa. Why do you hate Tio Nesto so much?”

“I-uh… I don’t hate him exactly.” Héctor said. “It’s just, umm… I have a lot of mixed emotions about him, and we didn’t exactly part on good terms- Look, Senor Chicharron, is it? You seem like a nice guy, down to Earth, the kind of guy you could borrow stuff from. Is there anything else I could do to go back?”

“It’s de la Cruz or nothing, Rivera.” Chich said gruffly.

Standing up straight, Héctor smoothed out his jacket and started to give off an air of high importance. Something that did not suit him at all and he hated to do, but the situation called for it. “Uh Senor, I don’t know if you know me, but despite my appearance I am an extremely wealthy man. So here’s what I’ll do for you.”

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his leather encased checkbook and a pen. Scratching out the details onto the check, he pointedly ignored the way Gaspar slapped his own forehead loudly and how Leti looked up at him with disappointment in her large eyes.

“I’ll start you out with ten thousand pesos, sí? And if that’s not enough then you can add as many zeroes to the end as you want. The sky’s the limit amigo, now what do you say?”

Ripping the check out, he leaned onto the desk and held it out in front of Chich’s glowering mug and put on his best winning, charming smile that ended up looking more sleazy than anything else. It was clear to everyone in the room at that moment that while Héctor was the true musician of the two, Ernesto was the true businessman.

“Anyone ever tell you that you get stupid when you’re desperate, Rivera?” Chich asked, causing Héctor to wilt. “Look, you need de la Cruz’s blessing and that’s that. But you got to get it by sunrise and it’s already past eleven.”

“Sunrise? What will happen at sunrise?”

“Well, if you get your hand off of your attempted bribery of a public official you’ll see for yourself.”

Putting the check down Héctor saw what it had been hiding and what he hadn’t registered before. The rest of his hand was normal, but his index finger was… white. Dumbly he tried to wipe it off on his pants, but the whiteness remained. It was white and… sectioned. Also his fingernail was gone. And his… skin was gone. He clenched the finger and it responded normally, but the sickening creaking sound it made caused the blood to drain from his face.

It was bone. His finger was turning into bone.

He was turning into bones. Into a skeleton.

Bones. Skeleton. Death. Dying. Bones.

…..

“Wake up Papa!”

All of a sudden that horrible smell had assaulted his senses again and Héctor coughed and hacked at the burning sensation coating his nasal cavity. Mirasol was kneeling before him and pulling away the smelling salts from his face with Leti hovering over him worriedly. Mirasol sighed with relief. “It’s a good thing Barto gave us this. Turns out we needed it after all.”

Groaning, Héctor reached a hand to cover his forehead only to jerk it away when once again he saw the whiteness of bone on his finger. He just laid back down, wincing a little as it felt like he was laying on something sharp and lumpy like a pile of broken boards. “What happened?”

“You fainted Papa!” Leti said. “You’re eyes just rolled back into your head and you fell backwards like a tree!”

“It was the shock of it all.” Mirasol said, pocketing the smelling salts. “Honestly, I’m surprised you lasted this long without fainting.”

Héctor huffed out a short laugh. “I had good cause- Ow!” Shifting in discomfort, whatever he was laying was now poking at him in the back painfully. “Why didn’t anyone catch me? And what am I laying on?”

“Me.”

The pained, grunted out voice in his ear caused Héctor to scramble up and off his irritated father-in-law in surprise. With a grimace he took him Gaspar’s scattered form and reached out his hands to help, only drawing back when he realized he didn’t know where to start. Apparently Gaspar had tried to catch him when he had fallen, but his height and weight had been to much for the shorter skeleton and pieces of him were now strewn about the office floor. His skull lay there on his own, glowering unamused as his wife and granddaughter tried to stifle their giggling and Héctor lay hovering but not helping. “You are heavier than you look, yerno.”

Héctor chuckled nervously and gripped his forearm. “Yeah, I’m uh… dense.”

“Dense in the head too.” Gaspar grumbled as once again the bones began to wobble on the floor and magically grouped themselves together. Once he was in one piece he helped himself and Héctor off the floor, silencing his girls with a glare that spoke that this little incident was not to leave the room. Ever.

“Now that you’re done with your little nap, I have something for you.” Chich said.

Everyone turned to see Chich had gone to the other side of the room and had retrieved a large black guitar case from the corner. Pulling out the plain brown guitar and shaking out of few bits of knick knacks and trash he handed the empty case to Héctor. “I don’t trust you to keep that thing safe, especially if you keep keelin’ over like that. This way you can protect it since it’s probably your ticket out of here.”

With a nod and mumbled thanks Héctor placed the golden guitar into the case and made a move to close it but paused. “Why do you say that? I thought you said I needed a blessing from Ernesto?”

“Sí, I did.” Chich nodded. “But that guitar is probably just as important,. Because in the nine years that Ernesto de la Cruz has been dead, and the thousands of offerings he’s brought back from the Land of the Living since then… Not once has he ever brought back that guitar with him.”

Crinkling his brow in confusion, Héctor glanced at the guitar, then to his daughter for confirmation. With Leti’s solemn nod Héctor shook his head. “I don’t understand. He always performed with this guitar, even in his movies. He loved it. Why wouldn’t he have it with him in death?”

Chich shrugged emphatically and glared. “What are you askin’ me for, you need to ask him! He’s the one who can answer that. Now take that guitar to him, get your blessing, and get out of here. I’m too busy to deal with you anymore.”

Pouting Héctor closed up the case and slung it on his back. “Okay, okay. Sheesh!”

“Ay, puta de madre, one more thing: the blessing.” Chich said before they left. “de la Cruz needs to get a cempazuchitl petal and present it to you, call your name and say, ‘I give you my blessing to go home’ and then you take the petal. Poof, your gone.”

“…That’s it? I’m gone, just like that?”

“Just like that.” Chich said. “Now you can get out of my sight.”

Leti watched as he father and grandparents head out the door, pausing to talk about something that she couldn’t hear, and turned towards Chich with a smile. “You know this will be my third time helping Papa on Dia de Muertos. I don’t know what he’d do without me.”

“You should think about getting a little punch-out card.” Chich said with a smile. “Save your Papa five times and you get a free helado, sí?”

Leti laughed out loud at that, a sweet high-pitched giggle, and old Chicharon found himself smiling even more. The little girl always made him feel better, especially on a night like tonight. “You go on ahead with your Papa. If you need anything else don’t hesitate to come back. I’ll be here all night.”

With a laugh, Leti shook her head. “Well, not all night.” At Chich’s questioning brow raise, Leti rolled her eyes. “You have to go visit your family later. You always take a later shift, right? So the newer deceased can go first.”

“… Of course.” Chich nodded and rasped out a hoarse chuckle. “Of course, you know me too well niña. Well after that you can come see me, claro? Tell me all about how you saved your Papa yet again.”

“Okay! Buenos noches, Señor Chicharron!” Leti said as she left. “Enjoy your visit!”

Watching Leti close the door, Chich didn’t immediately start to get ready for the next skeleton to come in. He just leaned back tiredly in his chair with a gravelly sigh. Bringing his fingers up to his face he glowered hard and he could see the slight gray tinge to the bones. A grayness that had been getting steadily worse over the years. He could even make out the beginnings of a small crack along the index knuckle.

Then he looked down as his lunch kit, knowing that that for the first time in decades it held no offerings, no pan dulce, not even a plain piece of fruit. It was a new feeling for him: Not receiving any offerings, not having his picture put up, that angry buzzer that he had heard from a distance before now reverberating loudly and sharply in his memory. Yes, a new feeling that he didn’t like one bit.

Finally he looked around his office. How many days had he cursed that he had ended up servicing the ungrateful souls of the afterlife with little to no thanks or perks? Now he was looking around and taking note of every nook and cranny of the small room, inhaling the scents of old paper and black ink. And it made him even angrier that, eventually, he would be asked to leave this wretched job and never see this stupid room again. And that he’d miss it.

“I’ll be here all night.” He mumbled again to no one.

But for how long?

-

-

Walking outside the Marigold Station and back into the Land of the Dead, Héctor was once again blown away by the majestic sights of gravity-defying skyscrapers and strange animals, that he now knew were the aforementioned alebrijes, flying and buzzing about. There were even more crowds of skeletons dancing in the streets and selling their wares in vendor booths, laughing and yelling and singing. It was so different and yet so familiar it made Héctor’s head spin, and he couldn’t help but smile at everything around him in spite of his dire circumstances.

But nearby skeletons were staring at him and pointing again, and Héctor tried in vain to cover his face with the short collar of his jacket.

“We really need to do something about this.” Gaspar said as he glared at the crowds. “You’ve got to get to de la Cruz pronto and being stopped by these gawkers isn’t helping any.”

“Maybe we could go home and get your hat and scarf to wrap around him?” Mirasol suggested. “Or we could buy some paint and make his face like a calavera, so he’d blend in?”

Gaspar snorted. “There’s no way paint would be able to hide that protruding nose.”

“Okay…” Héctor faintly growled.

“We won’t have to worry about that!” Leti piped up, and Héctor once again found himself melting and smiling at Leti. It felt just so good to hear her voice again that it was almost painful, and he hung onto her every word. “If anyone tries to stop or stall us, Frangipani will get them off of our backs. Speaking of which, she will also be our transportation for the night. Just stay here Papá, I’ll go get her!”

Walking off into the town square with Dante panting happily behind her, Leti cupped her hands and called out to this Frangipani whoever, letting out a few shrill whistles despite not having any lips. Héctor’s chest clenched painfully as he remembered the day when he had tried to teach his children how to do just that, just the tightening of teeth over lips with no puckering. Leti had been the only one to do it, at the ripe age of four years old. He had been so proud.

“A word Héctor,” Mirasol said softly, breaking him out of his memories. “Before you two go.”

Héctor had to force himself to look away from his daughter, wincing and smiling sheepishly once his attention was turned to his in-laws. “Sorry.”

“No no, it’s all right.” Mirasol smiled. “We… know what it’s like to lose a child to death. Especially when they are so very young.”

Héctor’s eyes widened and his gasped softly. “You mean… Before Imelda, you lost-?”

“No.” she reassured him. “No.”

“My wife and I may have been the ones who died, yerno.” Gaspar said, for the first time sounding somber since talking to his son-in-law. “But we still lost all three of our children that day. Only it was worse since we couldn’t see them or protect them when they so dearly needed it most.”

“We wished so badly to be able to raise our children, and in the end we got that opportunity with our granddaughter. But… I never wanted it to be because you and Imelda and the family suffered such a painful loss. And for that I am truly sorry Héctor.”

Feeling that he may start crying again Héctor pressed his lips closed and looked towards his daughter again. Leti now looked impatient as she tapped her foot, an adorable pout crossing her bony lips. Apparently whomever this Frangipani was wasn’t coming when they were being called. It made him smile to see Leti so full of life again despite being dead, especially after seeing her as a hollow husk of her former self the last few days of her being alive.

“Well,” Héctor managed to finally say with a little hoarseness. “she seems to be well adjusted and cared for. Thank you for taking such good care of her. Imelda was right, you two are great parents.”

“So are you Héctor. You are a wonderful father.” Mirasol said, her expression sad again. “You just need to remember how to be one.”

His smile falling from his face and his eyes narrowing, Héctor suddenly didn’t like the turn in conversation. “What do you mean?”

“You know what we mean Héctor.” Gaspar said, and despite being physically twice the skeletal man’s age Héctor suddenly felt like a punk kid in front of his father-in-law by the tone in his voice. “We were there the whole night watching you blow it with your family. Making your grown children cry, making Imelda cry, and Miguel! The poor boy will be scarred forever from tonight and that is all on you! Frankly, I should have slapped you again for what you’ve done!”

Héctor’s face grew hot and the guilt that he had successfully pressed down from before came right back up, and he as he tried to defend his actions he sounded more miserable than truly defiant. “No, they… They kept secrets from me… betrayed me… I-.”

“They kept secrets from you because they love you.” Mirasol softly said, then sighed. “We may have only seen you one day out of the year during these last few decades, but we both know that this isn’t who you are, Héctor. You are sweet, full of creativity, loyal and very goofy. The same things I see in my husband, Imelda sees in you.”

Gaspar harrumphed at that. “Don’t compare me to him…”

“This downward spiral with the whole family started with Leti’s death, sí?” Mirasol asked. At Héctor’s small nod she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Then go. Be with her for tonight at least. It’s high time you finally heal. And with Ernesto too. Remember: we were there that night as well, mijo.”

That night.

Héctor couldn’t help but shiver when he thought about that night. The secrets that Ernesto had been hiding from him, the fight, being knocked out and locked up by his supposed best friend. All of the lies and betrayals that all ended in a bloody smear in a crater. The fact that they were there that night, that they bore witness to that terrible accident, made all the what ifs that he had suppressed for years come back again. If only he had been more attentive to Ernesto’s well being instead of his own, if only he had successfully kept him from going on that stage. If only he had managed to reach him before he hit that final note and the bell cracked loose.

He would still be alive.

Seeing the distress her son-in-law was feeling, Mirasol drew him into a hug and rubbed his back when he stiffened up. It should have felt weird: being hugged by a skeleton. But she was somehow warm and comforting, and Héctor found himself returning the hug and feeling a little better. A hand clapped on his shoulder made him look up, and Gaspar smiled at him little. His own little way of offering comfort too. Héctor was grateful.

“Oh there you are, you silly thing you!” Leti cheerfully said, causing the three adults to break apart before it got awkward. She came up to Héctor with her hands cupped together and smiled brightly at him. “Finally! Sorry for the delay Papá, but our ride is here now. Say hello to Frangipani, my alebrije!”

Opening up her clasped hands and presenting them to him, Héctor was shocked to see an elephant in his daughter’s hands. A pink elephant, to be precise, with butterfly wings for ears that fluttered lazily and green polka dots dotting her body. The elephant was also no bigger than a mouse. Héctor’s first thought was that this was the most adorable little animal he had ever seen in his life, and he couldn’t resist reaching a finger out to pet the little thing. He smiled when the elephant made a tiny peep! and wrapped it’s trunk around his finger. It was amazing and fitting that his daughter would have such a cute ally-buh-buh or whatever it was called.

But then he recalled what Leti had just said to him about it. And it made no sense. “Our… ride?”

“Yep!”

“… Mija, I know I’m a thin guy but if I ride that thing it’ll be an elephant tortilla soon enough.”

Leti tittered a laugh and lifted a finger to lightly rub the small creature’s knobby head, causing it to toot with contentment. “No no! Frangipani’s special, all alebrijes are. They can take many forms, do all sorts of cool things that boggle the mind, and not everyone gets them. Only those who need help when they need it, a spirit guide to guide them on their journey through the afterlife. Frangipani has helped me on many an occasion, you know… Wanna see her special gift?”

At Héctor’s nod, Leti whispered into the butterfly ear and suddenly they both began to flap rapidly. The tiny pink elephant left Leti’s hands and began to float hazily in the air, a high-pitched buzzing noise emitting from the ears. Héctor laughed as it buzzed a circle around his head, shaking his head in amazement. So cute. “Aww, she can fly… Still too small to ride though.”

“That’s only one of her abilities. Here’s the other!” Leti let Frangipani rest back onto her hand, and then began to wind up. “Frangipani: Grande Grande!”

And with a mighty swing Leti flung the alebrije high enough into the air until she was only a tiny pink dot in the sky. And then, within the blink of an eye, a giant five ton elephant came crashing down onto the pavement with a ground-shaking thud. Skeletons shouted in alarm and ducked for cover when the monstrous behemoth was suddenly taking up space in the plaza, and Héctor found himself stumbling back into his in-laws once again making a sound befitting a small girl.

Gaspar shoved him away and helped him balance back to standing position, and Héctor gawked at what had happened to the adorable little animal that seconds ago could have fit in his palm. It was still pink, at least, and the ears were still that of a butterfly’s. But the colors were harsher and glowed all over, the green polka dots had transformed into tiger stripes, the tusks were solid gold and as sharp as daggers at the ends, and the trunk looked like it could squeeze the life out of him faster than a python.

Not so cute anymore.

“Ta-daaah!” Leti grandly proclaimed as she went up beside her alebrije without fear, some skeletons applauding the spectacle while others put themselves back together. “Papá, this is the real Frangipani!. She can be as small or as big as she wants! A size-changer!”

Héctor placed a hand on his chest to calm the wild beating and sucked in a breath. “I… see…”

“And guess what?” Leti smiled. “Frangipani is the same elephant that Tio Nesto brought to Matty and I’s birthday party all those years ago! Remember?!”

As the words registered in his brain Héctor’s shock and amazement instantly turned to agitation and annoyance. “…You mean the same elephant that destroyed your gourmet birthday cake that I spent a small fortune on? And then sprayed me with icing and snot? That… elephant?...”

Frangipani, for all of her grandeur, seemed to deflate slightly at that. A lame wheeze of a trumpet let loose from her, and her trunk timidly poked at the ground in shame. Leti winced and brought a hand up to soothe her chastised spirit guide. “Uy… and I thought it was elephants that never forgot…”

Héctor sighed and walked up towards Frangipani, reasoning it would be silly to be wary about a seemingly wild animal when his eight-year-old daughter was hugging it. The long trunk unraveled and started poking around Héctor’s chest, the dainty upper lip of it managing to catch a sensitive spot and causing him to laugh. Gently pushing the trunk aside, Héctor cleared his throat and straightened his face. “Ahem… So this is our ride?”

“Sí.” Leti said from above, and Héctor was surprised to see that she was already on top and positioned behind Frangipani’s massive head. “Normally I’d have her grab you by your shirt and haul you up here, but you still have all your skin and organs so that would be very painful for you. So I’ll kneel her, you step up onto her leg, grab her ear and hoist yourself up. It’ll be easy!”

It wasn’t easy.

At fifty years old Héctor was not as limber as he used to be, and in the end he had to be pushed up by Gaspar and pulled by Leti to finally secure himself behind her. It was even more embarrassing when the normally clumsy Dante was able to hop up behind him with grace and dignity, panting and smiling with pride. Frangipani was also very hard with thick skin, and it took a few moments to position himself so that he was straddling her back with the least amount of discomfort.

“Oof… Oh!... Ay… Ugh, you’d think an animal this fat would be softer. No no no, wait! I’m sorry, I’m sor-!” But it was too late, for Frangipani’s trunk came up and blew a blast of hot air directly into Héctor’s face with a giant trumpet. It took a few seconds for his ears to stop ringing and his face to stop stinging before he realized that everyone in the plaza was laughing at him. Smoothing his hair back into place he pouted until Leti spoke again.

“Okay then, let’s take to the air!”

Wait what? The air?! The butterfly ears weren’t just for show?!

“Wait wait wait wait!” Héctor cried out before Frangipani could even move her ears an inch to begin flight. “I’m fine with riding an elephant, but flying is absolutely out of the question!”

“Aw, what?” Leti complained and Dante huffed in annoyance behind him.

“I agree with Héctor.” Gaspar said. “That alebrije is not the most graceful of fliers. I know from experience. You’ll be able to walk to Ernesto’s mansion in no time.”

“We’re not going to the mansion first.” Leti said, Héctor not seeing the conspiratorial smile on her face. “We’re going to go to Shantytown. Tio Nesto always brings his portion of offerings there first before the party and concert. We’ll meet him there!”

“Mija...” Mirasol sighed. “Are you sure you just don’t want to wait at the mansion first?”

“No, I don’t.” Leti said seriously. The tone in her voice troubled Héctor a little bit, it was not like his daughter to disagree with an elder flat out. Before he could question it, however, Leti piped out again happily. “Trust me!”

Mirasol’s face gave off a series of wavering emotions, clearly hesitating over whether this was a god idea or not. Finally she sighed and nodded, giving Leti a small proud smile. “All right then.” Looking now at Héctor, she continued. “Héctor, this may be the last time we see you for hopefully a long while. Good luck, mijo.”

Gaspar gave a short wave, smiling a bit. “Adios, yerno.”

Héctor nodded and smiled. “Adios. And thank you for everything again!”

With a gentle nudge by the ear from Leti, Frangipani started to walk slowly in the opposite direction down the street. Héctor jolted a little at the sudden motion and made a grab for his daughter to keep her upright, but Leti just shook her head and laughed. Several skeletons made way for the large alebrije walking through the crowd, and Dante gave one last bark at Gaspar and Mirasol as a way of goodbye.

When they all turned around the corner and disappeared, Gaspar sighed. “Do you really think going to Shantytown is a good idea?”

“It might be.”

“You know why she’s really taking him there, don’t you?”

“Sí.” Mirasol nodded. “But it might help. Héctor needs to heal from his past wounds. And if there’s anyone here who can help him feel better, it’s Leti.”

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

“Why the heck would you want Miguel to go to business school, Papá? Are you loco?”

Héctor couldn’t help but be little offended at that. Seems like everyone, even those in the afterlife, thought that maybe some of his parenting ideas weren’t so great after all. Even Imelda had balked at the idea of business school at first before he had managed to talk her into it the night before. Though from the reactions he got from everyone else, the way they had ganged up on him about Miguel pursuing music, maybe… No.

“I don’t understand why it’s such a bad idea!” Héctor said as all three of then swayed back in forth as Frangipani weaved through the streets of the dead. “He’ll have a secure future, be able to provide for himself and his family. And besides Matty is a businessman and he loves it!”

Leti chuckled sarcastically and turned around to face Héctor. “Papá, I love my brothers with all of my heart, but Matty is a boring stick in the mud who collects coins and stamps that are, in his words, neato. And Miguel’s… not the brightest bulb in the city if, you catch my drift.”

“Oh, come on. Miguel is very smart.”

Leti rolled her eyes. “Just tonight I saw he and Victoria get into a heated debate on whether vitamins existed or not. And before you ask, he was against them being real.”

“Oh… I’m beginning to think I don’t know my own children.” Héctor said sadly.

Leti leaned back against him and hummed. “You used to… but think about it. Music was so engrained into our family for years. It was the backbone to our successes, helped us out through tough times. Even though I could only see him once a year I could tell Miguel was going to grow up just like you, a musician through and through. Then, all of a sudden, it was taken from him at such a young age. I guess that was when the secret-keeping started. You forbid something he loved and made him happy. Made others happy too.”

“I was trying to protect him from what happened to Ernesto!”

“Papá…”

“I was! You were there that night, right? He died on stage singing that dreadful song-”

Remember me…

Though I have to say goodbye

Remember me!

Don’t let it make you-

Héctor gasped as they passed by one of the apartment complexes on the street, one skeleton on a balcony languidly humming along to a radio blasting that song at full volume. Even worse other skeletons had heard it too and started to sing along with it as well. Once again Héctor’s insides clenched up until it was hard to breathe, his face grew hot, and his heart started pumping a mile a minute.

Shoving the heels of his palms hard into his ears and squeezing his eyes, he was able to feel that Frangipani had started to pick up speed. Leti must have urged her further to get away from the song as quickly as possible. Once they were at a safe distance Héctor felt Dante’s wet tongue lick his hands, letting him know it was safe to let his hands down again. He did but kept his eyes shut as he tried to will his body to calm down. Again Leti leaned into his chest and Héctor wrapped his arms around his daughter searching for comfort.

He was so ashamed.

“You really hate that song, don’t you Papá?”

His voiced trembling more than he wished it too, Héctor rasped out. “I… can’t stand it…”

“That’s very sad.” Leti said. “You used to love that song, especially since you wrote it out of love for Coco.”

“I can’t feel the love anymore.” Héctor whispered. “Only pain… and death.”

“… It’s because of me too, right?”

Héctor didn’t say anything. Couldn’t confirm it, or rather didn’t want to. Because it was true. Two lives taken from him because of that song. Héctor just hugged her tighter, Dante whining behind him and placing his chin on Héctor’s shoulder. They stayed that way for a few moments, just Héctor holding her, before Leti spoke again.

“Well, I rather like that song.”

The bluntness coming from his daughter was so surprising that Héctor couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh, but he just kept holding her with his eyes closed.

“I remember my last day alive. I was terrified, in pain, could barely breathe. But you were all there for me, and I was so glad Tio Nesto made it to say goodbye. I couldn’t speak properly, but I wanted you to sing to me Papá. I wanted you to sing that song. And you did. You all did. It was beautiful, and it was the last thing I remembered being alive. It helped me pass peacefully.”

“I know you feel like the song took us away from you, but I like to think that it released us from our pain. You were right, I was there that night. I saw Tio Nesto was sick at heart, but he still sang that song one more time. But we’re not gone Papá, not as long as you remember us the way we were. Because now we’re not sick and dying anymore. Now we are free to FLY!”

At that word Frangipani’s wing ears spread wide open at rapid speed, and before Héctor had a chance to open his eyes the alebrije was air-born with one mighty flap and a whoosh of air.

Héctor once again made a sound that he was not proud of and held on tighter to Leti, trying in the back of his mind to convince himself that he was protecting her and not clinging on for dear life. There were many things he wanted to shout out, such as ‘stop!’, ‘I said no flying!’ and ‘wasn’t there a movie about this?!’ but all that came up was panicked screaming. Before long they were up above the lower rung of buildings and heading straight up into the air.

Gaspar was right: Frangipani wasn’t the most graceful of fliers. She had to dodge other buildings. Towers and cranes during her ascent, even ducking beneath an air trolly at one point. It was a little sickening as she looped around at all angles, and even Dante was trying to keep hold by biting hard on the back of Héctor’s jacket and clinging to the guitar on his back. And Leti just laughed and whooped the whole time.

“Don’t worry Papá!” she screeched. “We’ll be in the open air right… NOW!”

And they were. Now that there was nothing in their way the turbulence was gone and there was now smooth sailing. Héctor slowly released his death grip from his daughter, and Dante from his, when his stomach finally settled back into it’s natural position. Carefully he risked a lean to his right to look down below, and he gasped both at how high they were and how even more beautiful the city was from above. The lights from the streets illuminated the ground even more, and several more colors popped out now that they were free from the fog surrounding the flower bridges.

Amazing.

“Sorry Papá!”  Leti said as she spread her arms wide enough to simulate flying herself. “But Frangipani is faster in the air than on the ground, and you don’t have all night. Besides, it’s a much better view up here than down there, right?”

And as the wind blew in his air and he could feel the smile growing on his face in pure wonderment, he couldn’t help but agree.

[hlcreators]

AUTHOR REC:  star_k / @perfectdagger​

Be sure to show some love and leave kudos and a comment! 

And let it kill you (19k)

"Love is either a human construct or it can be real. But either it is real, or you make it so."

Louis doesn't believe in fate, but rather in choice. There's nothing romantic about being stripped out of his own.

Find what you love (26k)

“My Dear,

Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it's much better to be killed by a lover."

Or, Harry learns 16 years is a lifetime to be in love with someone else.

Santa Claus is from Turkey (11k)

Saint Nicholas was born in Patara, making Santa Claus actually from Turkey.

This bit of information has nothing to do with this fic, but somehow manages to tell you everything that matters about it: it's Christmas time and there's a turkey and a lot of mishappenings.

It also makes absolute no sense at all, but just roll with it.

a rose surrounded by thorns (3.3k)

There were nine levels of hell in Dante’s vision. Distantly, Louis wondered in which one you’d go for getting off on rimming the demon who ate your soul.

Nice day for a pizza wedding (12k)

There’s a layer of total surrealness to have your own name denied by a stranger, while said stranger has your cock in their hands.

Harry was glad he was in the sort of situation he knew exactly how that felt.

Or, a story about how Harry, 18 year old Tumblr and photography enthusiast, ended up enjoying his birthday with the pizza boy, in a night filled with pizza, his faithful camera and the doubt of how to correct someone you were flirting with that he got Harry's name wrong.

He only had Niall to blame.

Tell The World We Finally Got It Right (56k)

Louis snorted. “Nice try but I have to work, you sneaky little bastard.” Louis kissed Harry quickly with the intention of it being the last time as he also squeezed their hands together before letting go. “Seriously, go. I…” Louis hesitated a second, not really sure what to say as his final goodbye to Harry. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He settle on that, because that was a promise he knew he would be holding on to.

“Can’t wait. I love you,” Harry said, just as he had said that to Louis over the weekend many times. He finally let go of him and kissed Louis on the cheek, smiling brightly at him before he opened the door and got out of the car.

Louis would also hold onto those three words until the weekend came along.

Part 4 of the Mistletoes & Wrackspurts series, or the year when Louis and Harry finally decided to give themselves a try, (re)falling in love and making memories for a life time.

Harry’s Journal to self-discovery (24k)

Moving away from home is always difficult, especially when you come from a small city like Holmes Chapel and chooses to study English in London.

It proves to be even more difficult to Harry when she doesn’t feel like she fits anywhere but sitting on a park bench, watching The Girl move around like she’s the most fascinating being on the planet.

And to Harry, she kind of is. Too bad she doesn’t know why (yet).

High-five of your love (12k)

Reason #24: Because you forgot to buy a birthday present

Or, the fic where Louis is a mess of a woman, who's so busy looking for a job to help pay rent she manages to forget her almost-wife's birthday present.

She makes do in the end, anyway. She always does.

supposedly, this is steph's gift (from last year lmao) (4.6k)

this is the supernatural au nobody asked for. basically we headcanon HARD that louis is a fox so i started to write this.

so: louis is a fox familiar. harry is a witch. louis is traveling around the country trying to look for a witch good enough to bond with, harry is the witch dumb enough to help niall on his cases. they fall in love, even if witch/familiar relationships are frowned upon.

also liam is a hunter of generations and niall is the sheriff (not really) who shouldn't be meddling with witchcraft but he does anyway.

Pride and Prejudice AU that never was (7k)

Basically the p&p no one asked for and that i got too lazy to finish. or as i like to call it "louizzie hates harrcy, but they hate bang a lot anyway".

You can’t blame gravity (for falling in love) (28k)

“You know,” she’d always start, “I never understood why these chick flicks are so addictive.” She’d give a small laugh into her cup, hot steam warming her face, the living room in their hometown house lit only by the television, both of them cozy under blankets while the girls slept in their bedrooms. “You’re never, you know, that smooth while talking to the one you really want. When you like the person you’re dating you’re actually quite a mess, flustered and clumsy all around. You can’t control it.”

Or five times Marcel fell, and one time Louis did it (plus an extra one).

If You Ever Wanna Be In Love (119k)

“Finally! I mean, hi again… surprise?” Lottie had almost an innocent expression, but Louis wouldn’t be fooled by that.

Harry Styles was looking at him, nervously biting his lip, waving long fingers with different rings on them at him. “Hi?”

It had been more than three years since they last saw each other and there was Harry Styles at his fucking door again. Louis was fucked.

Part 3 of the Mistletoes & Wrackspurts series, or the one when a Holiday season together might be just what a wizard and a muggle with a too complicated past between them need to find each other again.

Butterflies (3k)

”Just a touch on the shoulder I’m passing out Wish I could of told her I’m freaking out For I have been poisoned by butterflies I have been stared blankly by those eyes What don’t kill only makes us stronger, well I guess I’m stronger now Roll with whatever flows or comes my way I always say”

(Butterflies - Hudson Taylor)

Love Is On The Radio (35k)

“So Louis, who’s the lucky person that will not only get to see Arsenal and Manchester United facing each other, but will also possibly become your girlfriend… or boyfriend? I mean, that’s a good catch, to ask someone out like this on the radio. It will be hard to say no after this.”

“It’s, hm, his name is…” Oh boy, Harry was about to pass out, he couldn’t bear to hear what Louis would say. Susie was looking at him, worried eyes watching him from the till as she noticed that Harry had simply abandoned his cupcake duties. “Harry. Harry Styles.”

To win a pair of tickets to watch Manchester United playing, Louis may have possibly lied to Nick Grimshaw on the BBC Radio 1 Breakfast Show, asking Harry, his best friend, to be his boyfriend. Problem is - Harry has always been in love with Louis and so, this Valentine’s he’s gonna see his dreams come true, with a tiny bit of a twist, in order to watch the football team they have loved together since they were kids.

Sick of Losing Soulmates (I Like You) (7.6k)

Time and hearts will wear us thin So which path will you take, ‘cause we both know a break Does exactly what it says on the tin

‘Cause I’m sick of losing soulmates, so where do we begin I can finally see, you’re as fucked up as me So how do we win?

//

I hope I’m not stuck on your waiting list Because I dream of you in colors that don’t exist And I think it’s high time for you to know I like you I like you I like you And I hope you like me too

Part 2 of the Mistletoes & Wrackspurts series, or the interlude in which 3 years apart seems to be nothing and too much at the same time.

Every Little Thing He Does Is Magic (92k)

There were only a few things Louis didn’t believe in. You could include in that list the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy, and also Father Christmas. Having four little sisters, though, he had to pretend that all of them were real for the sake of keeping their imagination alive.

Surprisingly, there was one thing, that not until his oldest little sister turned 11 did Louis believe in and did he think would actually be real: magic.

Louis’ sister was a witch and everything he knew would never be the same again.

Part 1 of the Mistletoes & Wrackspurts series, or the Hogwarts AU where Louis is a muggle, Lottie finds out she is a witch and Harry is Lottie’s wizard friend from Hogwarts, with a lot of magic, letters, owl cuddles and crushes on boys from different worlds.

[noonachronicles]

Everlong Pt. 8

Kwon Jiyong/ G Dragon X Reader

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings; None? There might be a single curse word? 

Genre: Hades/Jiyong. Greek God AU. Fantasy.

A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone for their patience with me! I love and appreciate you so much!

Update Tag: @kathrynwynterbourne , @keepthelightoff​, @blue-lungs , @violagoth , @un-idntfied , @optimizche , @de-gabyconamor , @134340-cm @wonderful39530

Moodboard by Bae @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

Hades Palace was nicer than the one Zeus had on Olympus, but nobody really knew about that because it very rarely saw visitors. At first it wasn’t nicer. In fact at first it wasn’t much at all. So modest it was barely a home. Hades had been just fine with that. It was only him and he had never really required much. He hadn’t been as exuberant back then as he was now. Before he brought Persephone home he had added some editions to make it more suitable for her. Even still she had wanted more and he’d believed, at least at the time, that she deserved it. Now what had once been a humble home was a superfluous show of luxury.

Following their marriage, when the underworld had become her home, Persephone found herself constantly restless, with seemingly nothing to do. She hadn’t realized when she agreed to the marriage that it meant she would be burdened with the responsibilities of the underworld with him, that she wouldn’t just be able to go and come back at her leisure. That she would have to stay there, that it would be her home for better or worse.

Every time she got a little bored or felt melancholy Persephone would renovate some part of the underworld, redesign whatever she could, or just simply add another room to the palace. There were rooms with marble floors, red carpets, hardwood, and some with meticulously placed mosaic tile designs. They were matched with walls in red, white, gold, and even black. Rooms lined with shelves full of books written by dead authors like Faust and Austin. Poems never read by mortals written by Poe and Dante. There was an entire wing dedicated to priceless, never before seen art created by artists who had passed long ago. Some rooms were a hoarders, cluttered paradise and others that had stayed as empty as the day they were built.  

At its original inception, the palace Hades built for Perspehone, was a mere fifteen rooms and a moderately sized garden. Now it sat heartily at over two thousand rooms, six gardens, a pond, and an elaborate hedge maze. The entire property sat atop a large hill with a magnificent view of the underworld from anywhere you stood. It was surrounded by a stone and wrought iron fence that stood twelve feet tall at its peak.  

“What is this place?” you asked in awe. You didn’t even wait for an answer before practically skipping over to the massive iron fence, “Must be important all locked up and hidden away.”

Jiyong walked up slowly behind you, hands in his pockets and much less impressed. “It’s Hades palace.”

Your eyes went wide with excitement and you turned back to it in hopes of getting a good look at the home. He continued to follow behind you as you inched your way down the fence trying to find the best view beyond the hedges and trees that blocked your sight. After moving down a few feet you finally found a spot that you could see passed if you stood on your tiptoes. There was a massive maze of hedges covering the width of the grounds. Beyond that there was a field of bright green grass that moved up a gentle slope. At the top was a massive home built of limestone. There were columns that lined the entire front of the building, and if you squinted you could see the mascarons, cartouche, festoons, and corbels that decorated the outside. You wished that you could get closer to see the detail just knowing that it would be gorgeous.  

“That has to be what… five hundred rooms minimum?” you asked awestruck by the sheer size of it.

”Eight floors, five different wings, and two thousand rooms. It goes back further than it looks from here.” You looked beside you to where Jiyong was standing with his back against the fence. His notebook open in his hands as he answered with clear disinterest. After a moment of thought he chuckled, “Surely you think he’s overcompensating.”

“You’ve been inside?” you said with a blush, ignoring his comment, before looking back through the fence.

“A couple times. You want to go in?”

You scoffed, “No, I’d rather go back to the field of nightmares and torture. What if they’re in there? Can you imagine running into them? Terrifying.”

“Them?” he asked looking up at you from his book.

“Hades and Persephone,” you said as if it was the most obvious of answers, “I mean, they’re probably in there somewhere right now, it is their home.”

He grinned though you didn’t see, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

You turned to him with a sour face and exasperated sigh, “Don’t ruin this for me. I have a whole fantasy going on in my head right now. Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“Alright,” he laughed, “maybe they’re in there. What’s your big fantasy?”

You made a face and then shook your head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“We’ll never know if you never tell me.” he shrugged. You hummed, knowing he was right.

“In the beginning she wasn’t super fond of him, right? That’s what all the stories say. However, I don’t get the feeling that Hades was like some horrible monster, maybe...probably? I think that he knew she was miserable and didn’t want to be here and wanted her to be as comfortable as possible. Of course anyone with common sense might ask why he wouldn’t just let her go? He couldn’t let her go because he was just too infatuated and, well, likely very lonely.” you said eyeing the extravagantly large home, how could he not be lonely. “So he let her choose her own room and she picked the furthest one from his, as far as she could possibly go. Then she allowed herself to know him. Through tiny greetings at first that grew into conversations under the stars that lasted through the night. She liked him more and more as time passed and started moving her room to be closer and closer to his. They’re completely in love now and have a thousand children that fill up their thousands of rooms. Their love was just a very excruciating slow burn. The slowest burn, kidnapper and his kidnappee to lovers story. The Beauty and the Beast of greek mythology.”

“That’s not love.” he sighed, “That’s stockholm syndrome.”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s less romantic when you say it like that.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble.” he chuckled as you finally stepped down from the fence.

“Do you think…” you blushed and shook your head again, “never mind.”

Jiyong closed his notebook and slipped it back into the pocket on the inside of his coat. “Oh, go on, you have to ask me now. You’re practically scarlet.”

“Just...I know it’s weird to think about but, do you think they have sex? And if they do, what do you think it’s like? Is it otherworldly or is it just normal married couple sex where they’re both thinking of something else entirely since they’ve been together forever.” you asked, “Stories about Hades make him seem so different than his brothers, especially Zeus who was just a big slut really. I don’t think it would totally surprise me if Hades was asexual or something.”

Jiyong choked on nothing more than the air in his mouth and shock. “He’s not… asexual. Though I don’t think they’re having sex either. If they ever tried I imagine it would be unsatisfying, lackluster...forgettable.”

“Ooh, harsh.” you laughed, “Okay, well then how would they have had children? Do you think they had children? I don’t know if I can imagine Hades with a baby. It’s too weird but so is thinking about that palace being sad and empty.”

“I’m sure Hades would have loved to have children of his own, he’d be great with them even.” he shrugged, “Persephone has three children and he did wonderfully raising them with her.”

“Why’d you say it like that?” You asked curiously.

“Say it like what?”

You leaned against the fence next to him. “Persephone has three children. Not they have three children.”

“Hades isn’t the father of Persephone’s children.” he said simply.

“So they’re what, from before him? She was a teenager wasn’t she?” You cringed.

“Not before him just not with him.”

Your eyes went wide, “Drama! This sounds like a really great story and I already love it. Tell me what you think their story is. Please? Oh, please play the fantasy story game with me!”

“Alright, I’ll play.” he grinned, “but not here. If I’m going to do it I think it should be done in the proper setting.”

“You have my attention.” your eyebrows scrunched together, curious about what he was going to suggest.

“I just think it seems more fitting for me to tell you about their love from her garden. Don’t you agree?”

Your eyes went wide and your mouth dropped open in excitement, making him laugh at your genuine reaction. “Where is it?”

“Just there.” he said and pointed a little ways down to where the iron fence arched upward with a flourish.

Without wasting a second you ran towards the gate and peered inside. The surrounding fence had been draped in dark green ivy which made it impossible to see through, but through the gate itself was a lush garden. It was thick with trees and there was a stone path that disappeared between dense shrubbery. Everything was so green. Every few feet there was a pop of color from flowers. Their color, in contrast from the greenery, seemed even more vibrant. Your fingers wrapped around the gate and you pulled only to be denied.

You turned to Jiyong, as he finally arrived, with a pout, “It’s locked.”

“Oh no, that’s a shame. Where would we ever find the key?” he asked twisting an old iron skeleton key around his fingers.

“How... where did you… no don’t tell me. I don’t want to be any more of an accomplice to your illegal activities than I already am.”

You stepped back and watched him unlock the gate and push it open. Suddenly you felt stuck with fear.

He looked over at you curiously, “Are you coming?”

“What if she’s in there?” you asked warily, peeking back through the gate.  

“Persephone?” he asked, you nodded, “I thought you said she was in the palace. Is she in there or out here because she can only be one. She’s not omnipresent.”

You looked at him for a long minute, chewing on your bottom lip. He could tell you wanted to argue and tried not to laugh. Finally with a huff you stomped through the gate, “Fine.”

“This actually works out perfectly for us. After we rest for a bit we can cut through the garden to Asphodel.” he said thoughtfully as he relocked the gate. When he turned back around you had your hand held out to him. “What?”

“You have to hold my hand. You’ve held my hand through all the dangerous stuff, you can’t just stop now.”

He smiled to himself before grabbing your hand in his, “This place isn’t scary or dangerous. Nothing will hurt you here, I promise.”

“I’m so sure.” you scoffed, “This is a prime atmosphere for bad things to happen. We basically snuck onto palace grounds into this lush garden where anyone or anything could be waiting to attack us. When it does I will need to quickly drag your body in front of me as a shield, that’s why I wanted to hold your hand.”

“Elaborate please, on the dangers of this garden.” he requested, the amusement clear in his tone.

“Serpents, for one. Tiny, mythical, woodland creatures like evil pixies or gnomes that try and steal drops of our blood for dark magic. Or Hades himself could be lurking around a tree somewhere ready for the attack.” you answered as you walked together down the stone path.

“I-” Jiyong scoffed, “Hades doesn’t lurk.”

“Okay, fine. Someone else then. Is this location not perfect, aesthetically, for Medusa?”

“No!” he laughed, “You’re insane. Why would she ever come here?”

“Let’s see, to turn trespassers into stone statues so they can be placed around the garden as a warning to others...obviously.”

He shook his head incredulously, “I bet you a trillion dollars Medusa is not in this garden.”

“If you think that’s a good idea, but if there is even a single statue in this garden we will know that you were wrong and also that we are minutes from death.” you looked over at him and he nodded in agreement.

“Fair enough.”

With your hand securely in Jiyongs, you wandered comfortably down the cobblestone path through the garden. Trees arched over the tops of your heads, and every few yards there were stone columns, wrapped with overgrown ivy, and topped with what looked like giant marble bowls emitting light from a fire burning inside. Jiyong explained that the bowls were filled with slow burning oil, that it wasn’t some mystical magic as you avidly suggested.

Though your feet stayed on the path, your eyes wandered every which way. There was so much to see you found it hard to focus on one thing for too long, only asking about a few things, because you’d gotten distracted before you thought to ask about others. With your focus anywhere else you missed as Jiyong collected fruit from the trees that lined the pathway in his pockets. After some time you saw an opening in the path. The walkway was widening and the trees were parting.  

“Shit.” Jiyong muttered with sudden realization.

“What?” you asked.

“You’ll see.” he sighed as you walked into the courtyard.

There was a large marble fountain in the center, two iron benches sat on opposite sides, and in each of the four corners of the clearing was a marble statue, three women and one man.

Your mouth fell open in amusement and you looked over at Jiyong who, in rare form, did not look as smug as he usually did. “I can’t believe we’re going to be turned into stone, and just when I was about to come into a trillion dollar fortune.”

He only groaned in response.

With a laugh you dropped his hand and moved towards the first statue, studying the mysterious woman it depicted, “Who are they?”

“That’s Persephone and the others are her children. Makaria and Melinoe are her daughters and her son is Zagreus”

You moved onto the next statue, examining every detail, and then did it again until you were at the last of the four. Jiyong had been watching you as you inspected each one carefully and in detail. The whole time you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You’re staring.” you said with your back to him as you looked at the impeccable artistry, you could practically see every strand of hair that fell down the woman’s back. “Why are you staring at me?”

“It’s just...nice to see you happy, playful, back to yourself.” he answered quietly.

“What, you didn’t like when I was crippled with emotional distress and crying into your expensive clothes every ten minutes?” you grinned, eyeing him over your shoulder.

“I don’t like seeing you upset, period.” he said moving towards one of the benches to sit. “Which is why I didn’t want to bring you to-”

“You’re never letting that go are you?”  you cut him off as you moved to sit beside him.

Finally his superior little smirk was back, “Nope.”

“Alright, well I’m ready. Are you ready with your story?” you asked pulling one of your legs up on the bench as you got comfortable.

“First things first, you should eat something.” he said and began to pull the pieces of fruit he’d been collecting from his pockets like they were made from the same magic as Mary Poppins carpet bag. “It’s been a long day and you haven’t eaten.”

“Oh. My. God.” you gasped and reached down and grabbed a red sphere, “A pomegranate from Persephone’s garden?”

“I thought you might enjoy that. The pears taste better though, in my opinion.”

You dropped the pomegranate on the seat of the bench, and picked up the golden pear. It wasn’t just a yellow pear or a golden-ish looking pear. It looked like it was made of solid gold and would crack all of the teeth in your mouth with one bite.

“I can eat this?” you asked eyeing the fruit suspiciously, Jiyong nodded in confirmation.

You looked at the fruit for several more moments before cautiously lifting it to your lips and taking a bite. Your eyes blew wide open as the first bits of flavor cascaded into your mouth. A lewd moan slipped from your lips as you sucked on the fruit with an unintended sensuality. Jiyong squirmed slightly in his seat, finally taking off his coat and laying it across his lap.

“God, sorry.” you said once the pear had been devoured down to its core. You looked around for somewhere to put the inedible portion. He chuckled and grabbed the core by the stem from your hand and chucked it into the bushes.

“Should I begin?” he asked.

You nodded with excitement and picked up one of the apples, “I didn’t realize how hungry I was, but yes. Please start.”

“Well to start with Persephone wasn’t a teenager when they met. Which is one of my least favorite misconceptions.” he said with a small eye roll, “She was actually in her thirties when he first met her, but because he is immortal he already had four hundred or so years on her. People like to make him out to be some sort of monster, preying on infants. You tell me what an immortal man is supposed to do. If he only ever found romance with women who’d been around as long as him he’d end up marrying one of his sisters like Zeus did. And that prospect is just something that never sat well with me, him...I would assume.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing at him outright. You were amused at how passionate he’d already become about his story.

“Pause, breathe, continue.” you said placing a gentle hand on his forearm.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “The day they met Hades had gone to see his sister, Demeter, at her palace on Olympus. He’d been on his way out, walking through a meadow near the home. It was there he first saw her, that part is true. She had been the most beautiful creature he had seen in decades and he was in love with her before he took his next breath.”

“That quick, huh? She must really be something else.” you looked over at her statue and felt underwhelmed. Not entirely sure why, you felt a brief flash of jealousy hit you. “I don’t really see it.”

Jiyong smirked, not missing the petty undertone of your comment. “The thing people don’t understand about Hades is that he was never some recluse. He didn’t always hate everyone and he never liked being here all alone. The underworld was a fate that had been handed to him, not one he ever would have chosen for himself. Back then it was even more unpleasant here than it is now, probably what people expect it to be. It was basically just a deserted wasteland with souls meandering about. No order or structure. He hadn’t really done much with the underworld because he didn’t want this to be a home to him. He’d been lonely. Hades didn’t have many friends here and his family never came to visit. He felt abandoned for a long time. When he saw her, Persephone, this shiny new being with her kind smile, his infatuation was instant and overwhelming. She had been sweet to him, brought him to her garden, laughed with him, kissed his cheek, and asked him to come back and visit her again.”

“Wait, she liked him.” you said with genuine surprise.

“He thought so as well, at the time. And she may very well have, but her infatuation wouldn’t last forever. In the end it turned out she was very much like her father, a flirt.” he shrugged, “Regardless her actions that day sparked something inside of him. He’d come back here inspired to make the underworld a place worthy of being called home. Somewhere she would be comfortable and would want to visit.”

“He...really did all of this for her?” suddenly your heart felt soft.

“From the arch at the gate to the flooring in Tartarus. There have, of course, been many upgrades and renovations since then. But yes, originally he did it all for her.”

“I wonder what that feels like, to have someone love you that much.” you said quietly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Jiho is great but it’s more of a modern love maybe. And it seems that modern love is a little selfish. I think, even if he had the capabilities of doing something that romantic, he still probably wouldn’t. Which is fine...I don’t need that kind of old fashioned romance.”

You could feel tears flood the backs of your eyes and bit your cheek to keep from crying. You had to stop crying. Suddenly you thought back to the roses. To the sad songs that had echoed through your heart and you wondered if this was yours. You always thought Jiho had loved you but it was possible he didn’t love you the way you loved him. Maybe your love was unrequited. Or maybe knowing that you loved him infinitely more than he loved you was the heartbreak you would suffer.

“Y/n,” Jiyong frowned, and placed his hand against your cheek, “It’s just a story.”

“It’s a really good one so far.” Wrapping your fingers around his you smiled into his palm, “Tell me, what did Persephone think when he showed her.”

“She loved it at first. Or she loved that it meant he would do anything for her. She liked to come and go as she pleased. Often she used the underworld as an escape from her parents, mostly her overbearing mother. She enjoyed the freedom of this place, she was welcome to go wherever she pleased and could do whatever she wanted as well. Persephone had begun to spend so much time here and with Hades that he confessed that he loved her and asked her to be his wife. Her mother of course rejected the idea and that only made her more willing to do so.”

“I don’t like her.” you interrupted, “Persephone, she seems like a brat. She’s just using him.”

“She wasn’t as bad as I’ve made her out to be. She was very sweet, very funny at times. She just had the spirit of a wanderer and was a bit...flakey. I don’t think she understood what it meant to be married to Hades. That she would have responsibilities here and that she could no longer just leave and go wherever she wanted whenever she wanted. She did so well at first, but she got restless and resentful. She’d claimed that Hades hadn’t explained to her what the marriage entailed and acted like it was a prison sentence instead of a relationship. Willing to do whatever it took to please her, Hades compromised, allowing her to leave for six months of the year.” he explained.

“So that part’s true too.”

“Yes, that part’s true.” he continued, “One of the times she had left she had come back pregnant. She had Melinoe, her first daughter and Hades favorite of the children. A couple years later the same thing had happened, this time giving them Makaria. Then again a little while later with her son, Zagreus. At that point it was clear that even the compromise they had made was no longer enough for her. She wasn’t really a wonderful mother. She loved her children, of course, but they just made her feel more trapped than she’d already felt. Before long her wanderlust has turned her completely against her family. She used to tell Hades that even just six months in the underworld felt like being trapped in a coffin. She told Hades she would never carry his child, that her body would never allow it because of how much she loathed him for tricking her.”

You shook your head angrily, “Why didn’t he leave her or make her leave or however that would have worked?”

“Eventually he would, but at that point he hadn’t stopped loving her. Persephone and her children were all he had. He deluded himself into believing that everything would be okay because he’d been so afraid to be alone again. Before too long it had become too much, fighting her had become too exhausting and he let her go. After she left, he locked up this garden, her garden. He forbid anyone else to ever come here. It’s why everything is so overgrown.”

You sat quietly for a minute, absorbing the story, and looking around the courtyard. Even if he’d only just made it all up, Jiyong’s story felt so real. The energy felt different in the garden now, sadder and more dark than before. You wondered if it had been this way the whole time and had just been masked by your initial excitement. The images you’d had of Hades being pounced on by a handful of toddlers that looked like him faded away into one of him, lonely, somewhere in his massive palace.

“Well,” you sighed, “that’s a terrible love story. I’m a little upset with you for giving me such a horrible ending. You know stories can have happy endings, right?”

“Who says his story is over just because Persephone is gone?” he asked tossing the last gold pear into the air before catching it.

“Aww,” you cooed, “Okay, that’s cute. You’re forgiven.”

“Oh, thank the gods!” he oozed with sarcasm. You eyed the pear as he tossed it in the air again before catching it in his hand once more. He grinned watching your tongue dip over your lip, “You want the pear, don’t you?”

“No…” you’d already had three while he’d been telling the story, but still your mouth watered. “Yes.”

He handed it over with a laugh and you took a big satisfied bite from the fruit.

Wiping a bit of juice from your chin you held the pear out in your hand, “You should have a bite. You haven’t eaten either, and you said you preferred them.”

“You’re sure?”

You nodded, “They’re so good.”

Jiyong cupped your hand in his and brought the pear held in your fingers to his lips. You inhaled, surely it wasn’t intentional, but the way he moved his mouth around the fruit, his tongue just barely visible as it brushed against it, had you longing. Though you weren’t even sure what for. It was just an instant, deep pull at your gut. As his teeth sunk down into the gold flesh of the pear you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Juice pooled from the pear into your palm until it was dripping down your arm.

“Oops.” He muttered nonchalantly before sucking the heel of your hand between his lips to catch the juice.

Your pupils blew wide and he paused realizing what he’d done. It had been so second nature for him he didn’t stop to think that it was wrong. If your hand wasn’t still held by his you were certain that it would be trembling. He looked at you, his lips still on your hand, his soft tongue pressed against your palm. He waited a moment for an answer to his unspoken question. Was this okay?

With your lip between your teeth you gave him the slightest nod. He moved his head back and took in the sight of your bare arm with a gulp. Finding where the trail of juice had petered off near your elbow he brought your arm closer to him. The pear fell to the courtyard floor with a splat, your fingers unable to hold on any longer. You let out something between a whimper and a gasp as his tongue moved all the way up your arm until it was back against your palm. Goosebumps lined your skin like a tiny army. He continued to suck and lick at your palm and your fingers until he was satisfied they were clean of the pear juice.

He kissed back up your arm. Quick little pecks, a couple tiny nibbles against your skin, until he reached the sleeve of your shirt and then he jumped to your bare neck.

There was nothing you could think to say beyond a breathy, “ah, oh.”

You cupped the back of his neck while he sucked on the skin of your clavicle. His fingers grasped your hip as he groaned into you neck with satisfaction. His mouth moved up your throat, and along your jaw while his hand moved up your side until he was cupping your breast over your shirt. He leaned his forehead against yours and eyed your lips with an insatiable hunger.

“Wait,” You whispered, and brushed your thumb against his swollen lip, wishing yours were the same, “is this a dream?”

“I don’t think so.” his lips pressed against the pad of your thumb. He held your gaze for what felt like an eternity before pulling his body away from yours. “You don’t want to kiss me.”

“I do.” You corrected, “I want that more than anything else in the world right now.”

“But you won’t, right? Because of him.”

“It just doesn’t feel right.” your stomach twisted into a knot, and your chest felt tight as you watched him push himself up from the bench to put his coat back on. “I’m sorry, Ji. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m fine.” he said shortly, “We have to go, it’s getting too late.”

“Okay.” you said and watched him as he moved towards the start of the path on the opposite side of where you’d come in. You stood up from the bench slowly, removed your sweater from around your waist and pulled it over your head. The awkward tension between you two was intolerable. “Jiyong...if I knew what was going to happen. If it was clear how all of this ends...I just…”

“Stop!” he shouted, he looked furious when he turned to you, in a way he had never looked at you before. “Just stop talking about it! You didn’t want it to happen. It didn’t happen. Let it go...so I can.”

He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and took off down the pathway, not even waiting to check if you followed. With your arms crossed over your chest you walked behind him quite a bit, mostly to give him a chance to cool off. The walk down this path seemed shorter, but that could have just been because of the way he was storming down it. You had to speed walk to keep up. When you reached the gate he already had it unlocked and open for you, he didn't even look at you as you passed him. You waited a few feet away as he locked it back up, and sighed as he brushed passed you without a word.

Jiyong wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. It felt like everything was going wrong. All he wanted to do was tell you everything. Tell you who he was, who Jiho was, why you were really here. However there was a nagging sensation at the back of his head telling him that once he told you he was going to lose you. In one way or another you were going to be gone from his life and he was going to be alone again in his big house on the hill. He didn’t want to risk losing you to the truth a second sooner than he needed to. Even if that meant suffering through the awkward silence, at least you were still together.

Leaving the garden brought you to a quiet meadow. It had you reminiscent of the field of punishment and it made you wish that you had your friend to comfort you, rather than an entire yard ahead of you pretending like you didn’t exist. The look on his face had made you feel guilty. There was so much anger, frustration, and pain in his eyes. Now he was walking around looking so dejected. It made you wonder if anyone had told him no before. The worst part was that you didn’t even want to say no, you’d wanted to kiss him. But if you kissed Jiyong you’d have to explain it to Jiho if you really got to see him and things just felt so complicated already.

At the edge of the field you hit the treeline of a forest. Jiyong didn’t stop walking, just kept going. The forrest was thick with trees. The second you stepped beyond the first trunks there were barely even streams of light from the sun above. Just enough that you were able to see the floor beneath your feet. There were fir trees, pine trees, cypresses and cedars. Even your favorite trees of all, weeping willows, took up space in the forest. You’d wanted to say something about how beautiful it was. How calming it felt and how wonderful the smell around you was. Jiyong was still steps ahead of you with his head slumped between his shoulders and his hands in his pockets.

You huffed, “Ji, please don’t be mad at me. I really can’t stand this.”

“I’m not mad at you.” He muttered and kept on through the fallen sticks and needles.

“You haven’t even looked at me since we left the garden. I hate to be presumptuous but I have to believe it has something to do with-“

He spun around and grabbed both of your shoulders. “I can’t look at you because everytime I do I wish I was kissing you. I can’t kiss you though, because you don’t want me to. So I’m just going to need a while, is that okay with you?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t kiss you.” you said quietly, feeling guilty all over again, “I’m sorry, I upset you.”

Jiyong let out a frustrated growl, “You want me to be mad at you? Now I’m mad at you! Stop apologizing for telling me no. Never apologize for telling someone no, for not doing something that makes you uncomfortable or that you don’t want to do. That pisses me off. You’re allowed to say no.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” You corrected, “it’s just that, I’ve kind of thought about it a lot, getting to kiss you. If I ever get to kiss you...I want to do it the right way. I don’t want anyone or anything in between us. Just me and you.” You sighed and put your palm against his cheek, “Kissing you…this sounds so lame but, kissing you means something more to me because you mean something more to me.”

He looked at you for a long minute, stunned, “You really think about kissing me?”

You felt a blush rise in your cheeks as you dropped your hand from his face. “I told you before that I’d wanted to.”

“I thought you meant you just wanted to in that moment, not...all the time.”

“It’s not like I think about it every second or anything…” your cheeks burned, “Have I not been making my feelings painfully clear to you?”

“You still want to go to Jiho. You won’t be with me because of him.”

“I know, I’m sorry if it’s been confusing for you. Imagine how it’s been for me.” You sighed, “I still love him. I feel like I have to do this, you know? I have an obligation to finish this out, to go to him, to see what happens and how I feel before I make a decision.”

A smile spread over his lips before giving you a simple, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You asked confused by the quick switch in his mood.

“Okay. I’ll wait. Okay. We’ll kiss the right way, like you want.” He grabbed your hand from your side and started walking through the forest of trees with you following behind.

It was enough. He felt better now, knowing that you’d thought about kissing him. That it was something that you wanted too. A hopeful feeling awoke inside him that was screaming that this would be ok. Even if he had to wait a little longer for you to see the truth, he could wait for you, he’d waited this long.

“Wait, we will?” You asked.

“Of course we will. It’s probably better if we don’t do it just yet. You’re not ready for me.” His shoulders were back and his chest was out, his confidence was through the roof.

“Oh, really?” You laughed.

“There’s no way you’d be able to handle it.”

“Well I kind of think we should kiss now, just to see. I bet that trillion dollars you owe me I’d be just fine.”

He looked over his shoulder at you skeptically, his eyebrow raised, “It would be irresponsible of me. You might never come back from it. Down for the count.”

“Down for the count!” You cheeks burned with laughter, “Oh jeez.”

He grinned, more at himself than at you, “Just wait. I’m gonna blow your mind.”

It was the best feeling in the underworld having your hand wrapped inside of his, the energy between the two of you bubbling once more. You told him all about how anxious you’d felt in the meadow on the way over. He admitted he’d worried about how you’d handle it, how he’s wanted to tell you it would be just fine. You mentioned that you’d loved the weeping willows and he’d laughed and told you it wasn’t too surprising to hear. Then you reached a clearing. A patch of grass surrounded by weeping willows that opened up to the fading light of the sun.

“How do you like the forest? Are you comfortable?” he asked.

“It’s nice, calming. I don’t know what this feeling is. It’s almost content?”

“Content could be correct,” he hummed in thought, “This is meant to be a neutral place. No positive emotions, but no negative ones either. Simply a place to exist. This forest is Asphodel.”

You looked around curiously, “Asphodel is supposed to be a field.”

“You make a lot of assumptions. Almost all of them are wrong, and yet you continue making them.” he laughed.

With a scoff you pinched the back of his arm until he winced with pain, “Call it consistency.”

“If you prefer,“ he laughed again, “I think we should stay here for the night.”

You shrugged with indifference, “Why? Since it’s so empty? Not a lot of restless wanders around to bother us?”

“Consistent.” Jiyong grinned as he pulled his jacket off and laid it out on the grass. “Asphodel is the most occupied space in all of Hades. There are more souls here than everywhere else in the underworld put together.”

“How?” you asked incredulously, “Blades of grass? Leaves on the trees?”

He sat down on the jacket and patted the space next to him, “Sit down and rest with me. You’ll see soon enough.”

Sitting down next to Jiyong and finally stretching out your legs left you with the realization of how much you’d already done today, how far you’d gone and all the things you’d seen. Exhaustion came on very suddenly.You laid back against the grass with a sigh and looked up at the patch of sky above you. Jiyong sat quietly beside you flipping through his notebook as always, you half thought to ask him what was in it. You’d thought about asking him about a thousand times since you’d met but worried it might be too personal so you never did. Everything around you had a sense of calm, you thought for awhile you might actually drift off to sleep as the sky grew dark.

That was when you first saw it. A single flicker of light among the dense trees. You blinked several times, unsure you’d really seen it. Then it was there again. A little light blinking now and again as it passed behind leaves and branches. Before you knew it there was another, and then another. One by one tiny little lights like fireflies seemed to flicker to life among the trees until they filled every patch of darkness and left the clearing in a soft glow.

“It’s so beautiful.” you whispered, mesmerized by the sight before you. Then your heart sank with realization, “These are the souls. Do they fill up the whole forest?”

“Yeah.” he said quietly.

“That’s so many.”

“Centuries worth.”

As several of the orbs of light began to trickle down from the trees you sat up to watch them. Some sank down all the way to the forest floor, others spread out through the trees until they disappeared completely. It was like watching the stars from the night before, except this time instead of watching from below you were sitting right in the middle of the universe.

Jiyong couldn’t take his eyes off of the way you looked around with such wonder. He’d become entranced with the way your eyes sparkled with the light of the souls that surrounded you. Desire filled the pit of his stomach and a slight pout crossed his lips as he realized he didn’t usually want for much, but he did for you. He needed to know why you’d come into his life and what, if anything, your futures held together. And he’d realized that he knew where to go to get his answers. All he needed was a chance to slip away.

The souls, despite surrounding you, never really came close to the pair of you. They didn’t really interact at all. Which is why, after some time had passed, you were surprised to see one of the tiny little orbs hover closely in front of you. Then like a cat with a sudden burst of energy, it started to zoom around you. The tiny orb zipped through your hair, making you laugh and booped against your nose which left you feeling overwhelmed with love. When you held out your hand it circled up your arm and landed in your palm.

“Do you think…” you couldn’t even finish the thought before your eyes welled with tears, you felt ridiculous even thinking it.

“I really do.” he said quietly, knowing exactly what it was you were thinking. “I think she found you.”

“Seems silly.” You sniffled, “How could she? In this entire forest, with all these souls, it just seems so unlikely.”

He lifted his hand to your face, tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear and brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “And yet, it’s happened.”

You both watched as the little bulb of light zipped from your palm and started to circle around Jiyong as if inspecting him. It made you want to laugh, how nervous he looked. It was the, bringing your boyfriend home to meet the family, experience that you had missed out on in your youth. It wasn’t until she began to bounce against the tip of his nose that he finally relaxed enough to give a smile.

“I think grandma likes you.” you bit your lip realizing that she really would have liked him.

Jiyong was the kind of person she would have loved for you. He was respectful and kind, but still confident and fun. His sarcastic humor reminded you of hers and you could instantly imagine afternoons getting sassed by both of them and you knew that you would have loved it. For a long while she bounced between the two of you, until you let out an unmistakable yawn. Then the tiny little orb zipped around you once more and eased back into the masses.

“It’s been a long day, are you ready for some rest finally?”

You nodded in response and looked down at the ground where you’d been laying earlier. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Of course.” he said with zero hesitation as he laid down beside you.

“I know it’s not fair to ask, especially after this afternoon, but if it’s not too much...and you can say no-”

He cut you off, “Just ask what you want to ask.”

“You...can I...is it okay if I hold you? I have such a hard time getting to sleep without holding something.”

“You mean someone.” he said with a hint of jealousy.

“What?” you asked genuinely confused.

“I assume you meant Jiho. So someone, not something.”

“Oh!” you chuckled, “No...he’s not much of a cuddler, but I had a lot of pillows back home and I haven’t seen a single one in this forest.”

“Um.” he shifted, “Well, I’m not really equipped to say no to you. So whatever you need to be comfortable, I’m here for.”

You rolled your eyes as you looked down at him, “Stop…if it makes you uncomfortable...”

“Would you please just lay down?”

With a small grateful smile you laid down and tucked into his side. Your arm wrapped around him and you curled your fingers into the sweater he was wearing like you’d wanted to when you saw him in front of the bakery. You inhaled deeply taking in the sweet chocolate scent he gave off with the tiniest hint of spice.

“Thank you, Ji.” you whispered against his neck.

“You’re welcome.” he sighed, trying not to shiver at the way you made him feel.

It took seconds for you to fall asleep in the comfort of Jiyong. He however laid awake, staring up at the starry sky. He’d intended to sneak away while you slept to get the answers he’d been looking for. He wondered how he’d manage to slip out of your embrace. He wondered where he’d find the will to even want to try. He wrapped his arm over your shoulders and pressed a kiss against the crown of your head. In the end he decided he could wait a little longer for his answers.