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writerthreads · 3 years

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The top 10 classic fears in literature

By Prof. Marianna Torgovnik on TedBlog

Fear #1: Death, death, death—did I mention death?

An almost universal fear, death recurs in literature more than any other fear, all the way from canonical works through fantasies like J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. I list the fear of death three times since it occurs in many forms: fear of our own deaths, fear of family members or close friends dying, fear of children preceding parents, the death of an entire culture.

Some examples: Shakespeare’s Sonnets (“Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore”; Hamlet (“To be or not to be”); John Keats (“When I have fears”); Virginia Woolf, The Waves; Pat Barker, The Ghost Road. This list could go on and on, because the fear does.

Fear #2: Avoiding death for the wrong reasons.

Literature loves paradox and so, paradoxically, the second greatest fear is avoiding death for the wrong reasons: when death will inevitably follow a noble or moral act or out of cowardice, especially in war. For understandable reasons, this fear is less common than more general fear of death, but it is out there and memorable nonetheless.

Some examples: Sophocles, Antigone (to bury her dead brother, Antigone famously courts death); Shakespeare several times — Hamlet again (“There is a providence in the fall of a sparrow”) and Antony and Cleopatra (to avoid capture by Octavius); Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (“It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done”); Harry Potter in his pursuit of Voldemort.

Fear #3: Hunger or other severe physical deprivation.

Survival tends to trump the finer emotions when it comes to fear. Sometimes time specific, the fear of hunger nonetheless reminds us of basic things. In romantic novels or poems, it can be and often is a symbol for more abstract needs, like love. In Holocaust literature, it portrays humanity strained to the core.

Some examples: Dante, The Divine Comedy (Count Ugolino and his children); Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” (“Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink”); Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre; Elie Wiesel, Night; Susanne Collins’ The Hunger Games.

Fear #4: Killing or causing the death of someone you love.

Whether by murder, negligence or a set of circumstances beyond our control, the fear of causing the death of someone we love is a big one. It’s a stock feature of numerous spy and crime dramas, where we tend to brush it off since the hero (think James Bond) or (more rarely) heroine’s beloved is almost always a goner. Numerous operas by Verdi, including Rigoletto and Un Ballo in Maschera use this theme, sometimes more than once; in fact, opera thrives on this fear, as in Bizet’s Carmen. It usually takes serious and even majestic forms in literature.

Some examples: Patroclus dying for Achilles in Homer’s The Iliad; Othello killing Desdemona in Shakespeare’s Othello; Thomas Hardy, Jude the Obscure (“Done because we are too menny”); D.H. Lawrence’s Women in Love (Gerald choosing to die rather than kill Gudrun); Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl.

Fear #5: Being rejected and/or being loved by the wrong person.

At last we come to a fear that can have a lighter side and, sometimes — though not always — a happy ending. In literature, characters fear being rejected, being loved, and being loved by the wrong person in almost equal proportions. Once again, the examples span the ancient classics all the way up to the present.

Some examples: Woman loves step-son madly in three versions of the same story, none with a happy ending (Euripides, Hippolytus; Racine, Phaedra; Mary Renault, The Bull from the Sea); mixed up couples set right in Shakespeare’s As You Like It; love triumphs by the end in Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice; two different kinds of love lead to tragedy in Hardy, Tess of the D’Urbervilles; mixed results in Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot.

Fear #6: Illness, disease and aging.

Closely allied to the fear of death — but not identical to it — the fear of illness is another constant though, as we’d expect, the disease most feared changes over time. The bubonic plague used to be the leading contender; TB enjoyed a long dominance until cures were found. Nowadays, cancer and, more often, dementia are far greater fears. There is at least one stunning example in this category of embracing the fear being absolutely the right thing to do: Flaubert’s St Julien, L’Hospitalier, in which the saint embraces a leper and achieves transcendence.

Some examples: Giovanni Boccacio’s Decameron; Daniel Defoe’s Journal of the Plague Year; Oscar Wilde, The Portrait of Dorian Gray; Albert Camus, La Peste (The Plague); Ian McEwan, Atonement; Jonathan Franzen, The Corrections.

Fear #7: Lost reputation, divorce or scandal.

People used to fear this one more than they do today, when our motto seems to be that no publicity is really bad publicity and unseemly revelations are the order of the day. Still, this is a significant fear, and one that even recent books revisit in original ways.

Some examples: Sophocles, Oedipus Rex; Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina; D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover; Thomas Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities; Phillip Roth, The Human Stain.

Fear #8: War, shipwrecks and other disasters.

The fear of shipwrecks can seem archaic — but they were the airplane crashes of yesteryear. Shipwrecks can be mere episodes or the core of the plot; in early literature, they are closely allied with war, a more global disaster. While other disasters arouse fear — earthquakes, volcanos — war and shipwrecks lead the field. Both change characters’ lives, with variable results.

Some examples: Homer, The Odyssey; Defoe, Robinson Crusoe; Jonathan Swift, Gulliver’s Travels; Tolstoy, War and Peace; Yann Martel, Life of Pi.

Fear #9: The law and, more specifically, lawyers.

Fear of the law is a surprisingly classic fear, weighing in at number nine. But what’s meant by the law changes over time. While fear of God’s judgment remains plausible in literature, it is far less common today than fear of society’s laws — and specifically the rapacity of lawyers and the law’s ability, in Dickens’ words, “to make business for itself.” In some modern books, the law becomes a metaphor for the meaning of life.

Some examples: The Bible; Aeschylus, The Oresteia; Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter; Dickens, Bleak House; Franz Kafka, The Trial; Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Fear #10: That real life won’t resemble literature.

While this might seem the most trivial of fears, in fact it drives a lot of great literature. Some characters want life to be elevated, inflated, like epic or romantic literature. Deprived of that illusion, they die or take their own lives—looping us back to fear #1. Other characters favor codes of renunciation that have been called by literary critics “the Great Tradition,” fearing that they will gain something by immoral or amoral actions; a variation on this fear is the fear, as George Eliot’s Dorothea puts it, “I try not to have desires merely for myself.” Not at all light for avid readers, this fear usefully reminds us that life is not really like a Henry James novel.

Some examples: Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote; Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary; George Eliot, Middlemarch; Henry James, The Ambassadors; Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending.

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polarisbibliotheque · 3 years

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DMC OC Week - Day 3: Past

OC + DMC Universe

Summary: “After 10 years, Dante goes back to the city of Remény, a place where he left much more than dead demons and thankful humans. He’d finally meet her again.”

Content: Honestly, everything you’d find in a DMC game. But with more existential crisis and exploration of repressed feelings (it’s a wild ride).

Age rating: +16

Word Count: 3.3k

“So… What’s your name, lady?”

On that grim day, when all hope was lost and Diana thought death was certain, that man in a red coat jumped in to help her defend her own life. She deemed it as good as gone, but that man stood by her side when no one else did.

And not only that – when Diana was sure she would get mortally hit, he stood in front of the blade, a scythe piercing through his chest. She screamed in horror as blood gushed from the wound, pooling around her feet and sprinkling on her hands and face. He couldn’t die, not for her. If the only person who decided to help her had to give their life for Diana, she would choose to die – he definitely was too good to go in such a terrible manner.

But he simply took the scythe off his chest and kept on going. As shocked as she was, Diana still managed to get the bloody scythe from the floor and fight. It was heavy and clunky, but she’d do whatever she needed to survive.

When all demons were gone, that man turned around to speak to her for the first time.

“Diana. And yours?”

“Most people call me Dante.” As he answered, Diana could only raise one eyebrow. ‘Most people’? How many other names did he have? “Those people who left you behind, you know them?”

“Hmmm.” Her reply was nothing more than an annoyed hum and it would remain like that. Diana checked her wound to assess how bad it was, but her heart ached more than any physical pain she felt.

What happened that day was only the last drop of water to overflow the cup of hurt emotions Diana had inside. For too long she had dealt with being mistreated by everyone around her – but she didn’t expect to be left to die like that.

Dante kept watching her for a while… She reminded him of someone.

“You think they’ll open those doors now to let you in?” He had to find out what to do next. Dante needed to get the job done, but now she was under his protection. He wouldn’t leave Diana behind, but he couldn’t move on killing demons relentlessly with a hurt human by his side. He needed to get her to safety.

And Diana just stared back at him.

“Perhaps if we ask nicely.” Her statement dripped sarcasm, making him laugh briefly. It wasn’t a laugh of enjoyment, but one that recognized how humans could sometimes be worse than demons. And it also recognized some mannerisms from a company he missed so much in his life.

“What about your family? Do you have someone around?”

“I told them to leave during the first wave. We weren’t together when the demons attacked, and I didn’t want them to die because of me.”

Diana barely looked at Dante, but he felt a pull in his heart with her words. He knew exactly what she meant – Dante himself would get the people he loved to safety first during emergencies and if he died, so be it. At least they were safe.

Especially if it was his family. If he still had one.

“The sun’s about to set, we better find a safe place to spend the night.” He looked at the skies, the color changing to a darker tone. At night, the city would be swarming with demons that lurked in the shadows – and those things would smell Diana’s fresh blood like sharks.

“Don’t worry about me, you have a job to do. I can go on my own.” Diana took the scythe from the floor again, testing the weight on her leg. It hurt more than she expected, and it didn’t stop bleeding.

But she learnt to be alone. It had been a very long time since she couldn’t trust anyone, and that day sealed her belief that she could depend on herself and herself only. Although Dante saved her, Diana also thought the world of the people who left her to die. The people she forgave so much so she wouldn’t be alone – but she was. Left to die. Left to survive.

Dante furrowed his brows. Vergil. Diana had some of his mannerisms: the way she was cold and distant, sarcastic and stoic. A lone survivor – instead of keeping it light-hearted like the Crimson Slayer, she had the cold, polite aura of the Dark Slayer.

Dante couldn’t leave her there to die.

“Well, you’re not going very far with that leg of yours.” He pointed out, making her stare at him. “C’mon. I’d prefer to continue our chat in a place where those demons won’t turn you into their Happy Meal time.”

A faint smile appeared on Diana’s lips, even though she didn’t want to. That alone made Dante a little more content about himself – he knew Vergil was hard to crack, but Dante had his ways to deal with his brother. Perhaps he could do the same with her.

When someone was so used to harshness, a little kindness could go a long way.

The mirrored walls were covered in blood. Chairs and tables were tossed around, broken, blocking the way. The floor had drag marks everywhere, covered in crystals of broken glass, bottles and cups. There were no bodies left – and if there were, they wouldn’t want to see them.

A pub wasn’t the most obvious choice for a safe place to spend the night, but it had only two entrances: Dante and Diana blocked the back door with chairs and tables, making sure no demon could enter. They left the front door unblocked, though – if they needed to escape, that was the route.

Dante knew a handful of demons who could teleport through the barricade, so an escape route was a must.

Diana sat by one of the last chairs on the bar, the scythe resting by her side, close enough to be grabbed in an emergency. Dante stood by one of the blood sprinkled windows right at the other side of the pub, checking if the streets were safe.

But he also checked on her. Diana’s wound was worse than he initially thought, and Dante was suspecting there was some sort of poison that wasn’t allowing her to heal. It kept bleeding and that was a huge problem – not only because it could attract demons, but it was unsafe for a human to bleed so much.

“Hey, Diana. Let me take a look at that.” He decided to approach her, which seemed to startle her. Diana was too lost in thoughts to remember she was there with someone else.

“It’s ok. I’m fine.” She answered briefly, but shied away from him as soon as Dante was close enough to touch her.

That annoying tug on his heart stroke again. What the hell did people do to her to make that woman so avoidant?

He understood Vergil – he really did. Neither Dante or his brother had an easy life and even though Vergil did some stupid ass things in pursuit of power, Dante knew where it came from. He knew why Vergil was so avoidant and so closed up, deeming his feelings as a weakness – Dante could never really judge him.

Yes, Vergil was a pain in the ass to deal with, but he could understand wanting to become full demon and leave all his humanity behind. For his brother to get like that, though, it took a lot. Dante’s heart always got hurt seeing another human with those traits, because it usually stemmed from a great pain.

He had always been the soft-hearted twin.

“Ei, I know a thing or two about first aid.” He sat on what was left of the seat by her side, leaning most of his weight on the bar. Dante didn’t want her to get even more uncomfortable – reaching out was a matter of patience. “But I do know a lot more on demonic wounds. Scythe through the chest, remember?”

Diana let a little smile color her lips, making Dante smile back – a little proud on breaking through that thick coat of ice, even if it was just a little bit.

“That thing isn’t healing, right? We’ll have to patch it up somehow until we find someone who can properly take care of you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.” Diana’s response was almost automatic – she even stopped talking as soon as she noticed the words coming out of her mouth. Luckily, Dante brushed it off and didn’t tease her as she expected he would do.

“Oh, I know that. You faced head on a bunch of demons with a metal stick as a weapon.” It was a compliment, and she wasn’t expecting that. Dante took Diana completely by surprise and disarmed her so easily. She didn’t even know what to do with herself. “Say what. I’m gonna find whatever bottle's left on this joint and pour us a drink. Whenever you get uncomfortable, we stop to have a sip and chat. How do you feel about that?”

Diana still shied away when Dante leaned a little towards her but he took her answer as a good omen.

“If you can find a surviving drink in this place, fine.”

“You have to be quite strong to be able to take a stab through your heart and keep on going.” Diana barely moved as Dante saw what he could do on her thigh.

It was way worse than he was used to see in humans. Diana mentioned a Monk at the Cathedral who could help, but he didn’t want to break the news that it was probably going to take a lot more work than just patching her up. There was something more at work there – Dante couldn’t make out if it was a poison, a jinx, a hex, or whatever else those demons had in their bodies. He just knew she was at a great risk.

But Dante also didn’t want to admit that to himself. He decided to stay in denial and tell himself “everything is gonna be alright”. He probably was being too overdramatic, too much of a doomsday person. Or at least that’s what he wanted to think.

He wasn’t going to lose her. He wasn’t able to save his brother and bring Vergil back to a normal, functioning life where he didn’t have to know only suffering and harshness – but he could do that to Diana. He could save her. He had to.

“Eh, it’s part of the job.” Dante brushed it off, already used to it. He lost count of how many times he was impaled by blades.

Dante immediately stopped what he was doing, though, when Diana took her glass from the table to take a sip of whisky. He leaned back, taking his own broken glass between his long fingers covered by black leather gloves.

“Everything ok?”

“Hmmm.” She just nodded back, taking another sip of alcohol. Dante waited, knowing she’d say something else. At least that’s how it was with Vergil. “I’m not used to that much… Touching.”

“It’s ok. You’re doing fine.” Dante’s lips searched for the part of the glass that wasn’t broken for another sip of whisky, looking aloof to allow Diana to smile briefly. She tended to smile when he wasn’t looking, even if it was a shadow of a proper smile. “We have the whole night.”

And in those sky-blue eyes, she found nothing but honesty. Dante wasn’t human, Diana knew that. But his heart was an open book in his eyes – there was something in there. A kind of pure honesty mixed with loneliness. A longing for kindness in return.

Dante waited patiently until Diana said it was ok for him to work on her wound again. He had a few first aid things resting on the bar that could help – the most he could find on that hopeless place. She didn’t touch her glass for quite a while.

“Scythe through the chest, just like the song…” She muttered to herself, drawing his attention. “Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame…”

“Darlin’, you give love a bad name.”

As soon as Dante sang back to her, Diana smiled. The very first honest smile that lit up her face, making Dante smile back. They were making progress.

“You seem to know my brother well even though you spent years apart.”

Vergil walked gracefully by Diana’s side. Enveloped by the darkness of the night, both moved silently like specters, making almost no noise. They didn’t want to draw the attention of demons during a rescue mission – they could investigate further when people were safe and the whole crew got back together.

“Dante did help me when I had no one else. He isn’t that easy to forget.”

“That you are right.” Vergil’s tone was annoyed, making her smile. “His foolishness is remarkable.”

Diana didn’t want to laugh out loud, but she did – making Vergil raise an eyebrow towards her. He wasn’t used to people laughing of the things he said… Well. People other than his brother. Dante seemed to be the only one who thought Vergil’s dry humor was funny. Having another person outside his family be so… Welcoming to him was surely different.

“It is, but it always puts a smile on our faces, right?” Diana agreed with a sigh, contemplating the bright moon high in the velvet blue sky. “He can always make me smile.”

Vergil wasn’t expecting that remark – but she was right. In all his foolishness, Dante made him smile even when Vergil didn’t want to. The Dark Slayer lost count of how many times they ended up laughing when Dante started to follow him around during an argument to “hug it out” while Vergil literally ran away around the shop’s table.

It was very angry laughing between both, but it always worked like a charm to make them less angry and stop screaming at each other.

“Hmmm.” And Diana furrowed her brows when she noticed Vergil had the same mania she had to hum while thinking. She wondered if Dante also noticed that years ago. “You’re also right about that.”

“Does he follow you around for a hug when you’re avoiding all human contact as well…?”

“…And you keep pushing him away, but that idiot is worse than a hungry koala?” Vergil completed her question, making Diana start laughing immediately.

And even though he didn’t want to, Vergil ended up laughing as well.

#dmcocweek #dmc oc #dmc fanfiction #devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dante sparda #vergil sparda #devil may cry dante #devil may cry vergil #dante x oc #dmc crew #polaris bibliotheque #I'm sticking with those tags for now

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clouditae · 3 years

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Let’s Escape Reality

Word: 5.6k

Christmas has become a holiday you never look forward to. Divorced parents, multiple parties to attend, but he’s always there to remind you that it never hurts to be a kid again

[Tuesday, December 24th, 10:15pm] Mom: Hey sweetie! Can’t wait to see you tomorrow morning! Your father always wakes up closer to the afternoon so he can wait while we have you all to ourselves!

[Tuesday, December 24th, 11:48pm] Dad: Hi baby, hope you had a great time with us today and we can’t wait to see you tomorrow whenever your mother let’s you go!

It’s currently five in the morning, your eyes barely open and thoughts not wanting to deal with your parents right now. It’s always the same with those two; one parent complains about the other. “Your mother is always so naggy” or “Your father never listens”. Always putting you in the middle whenever you talk to them or whenever you’re with them. They need someone to listen to them as they bash the other, and that happens to be you or your siblings. The daughter they created. All you want is for this day to end already, and it just started.

Forget the Christmas morning and lunch with your parents, forget wrapping the gifts you got for your family, friends and the person you picked to be secret Santa for. Forget the Christmas party you have later on today. Screw all of it.

Rather than going to see the other messages you got from your siblings, you open a different message.

[5:26am] Kook: Gooood morning beautiful! Can’t wait to see you at the party tonight <3

You can’t help but smile, feeling more calm than you did going to bed last night. You take in a deep breath, finally getting out of bed to take a shower and begin your morning on Christmas day. Plugging your phone into its charger on the nightstand next to your bed, you head into your bathroom where you start your shower. You take off your clothes, bringing your hand under the running water to feel the temperature. When it’s to your liking, you step in, letting the warm water run down your body. Thoughts run through your head as you close your eyes, taking in deep breaths to not have a breakdown.

Ever since your parents divorced, life has been difficult. It’s been four years since their divorce, but it always feels like yesterday when they announced it… separately. It was hard on not only your parents, but you and your siblings as well. Whose party do you go to? What is supposed to be happening New Years? Birthdays? Simple lunches that your parents fought over because one somehow figured out the other made plans with you. You felt like a toy they were fighting over; never considering how you’re feeling or how your brother and sister are feeling.

You suppress the urge to cry as you quickly take your shower. Once finished, you get out and put on pajama pants and a shirt, putting your hair up in a towel to dry before making your way towards your room to begin wrapping presents. You begin with the long distance lamp you got for you and your best friend. She always seemed upset at the thought of moving to New York for work and leaving everyone here, so you got her that best friend touch lamp that changes colors for both lamps when you touch it.

”She’ll cry when she gets it,” Jungkook told you last year when you almost bought it but didn’t. Your best friend was supposed to move to New York last year, but things happened and she did not leave.

“I don’t think she’ll cry,” you tell him, staring at the picture of the lamp on your phone.

“How much do you want to bet?” he challenges.

You chuckle at the memory. Guess you’ll see if today you lost that bet. You write your friend's name on the present, placing it to the side before moving to your mom's present. You begin to wrap the gift, thoughts going back to Jungkook. You wonder what he’d say when you’re at the store staring at an alarm clock you were considering getting for your mom at first. He’d probably lecture you. You think further back to when you first met Jungkook three years ago.

You sigh, entering the café with your friends. How much longer are they going to argue about team Clarissa or team Dante? In the end they’re both going to cry over the season finale.

“I’m telling you, Mina, Sophie is totally going to end up with Dante! He’s sweet and only wants to make them happy!” your friend Rory argues, walking up to the long line.

Mina only laughs challengingly, “Yeah right. Clarissa is the one for them. She’s been there since the beginning and she confessed her feelings for Sophie compared to Dante who acted cold and was a dick to her!”

“That’s because he has trouble letting himself feel something for someone again! It’s your typical troubled bad boy!” Rory protests, shaking his head before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Will you two keep it down? You need to remember we’re in public and no one wants to hear you gushing over two fictional characters,” Ben sighs, rubbing his temples. He’s clearly done hearing this conversation just as much as you are. They’ve been arguing since all of you got into the car to get coffee.

Mina sighs, “Fine. We’ll stop for now, but the second we get into that car, you’re gonna regret ever being on Dante’s team.” She pokes at Rory’s chest.

“You’re on,” he replies in a quieter tone, taking a step forward as the next customer goes up to the cashier and places their order. “Changing the subject,” Rory begins, now looking at Ben, “I know you’re a coffee fanatic, but why bust a mission so far out of our way to get coffee when there are a million stores closer?”

Ben smiles, eyes lighting up in realization. “Remember how I’ve been telling you for weeks that I want you guys to meet my friend Jungkook?”

“Yeah, but you never bring him anywhere when we actually get together. I still think you’re making him up,” Mina theorizes, looking up to meet Ben’s eyes.

“Ha-ha,” he mocks. “But no, Jungkook is real and he works here. I thought that the best way to meet a busy kid is to find them at work. Plus he makes a pretty damn good cappuccino.” Ben shrugs, gesturing with his head for the three of you to move forward.

“Does he work eight jobs or something?” you can’t help but ask. Ben has been talking about you three meeting this Jungkook non stop for almost two months, but never once has Ben actually brought him over. Ben’s excuse as to why Jungkook has never been brought over is because Jungkook is busy.

“No. He has six older brothers, so he’s always with them. They help him with everything he could need, and how to be a better barista is one of them.” Ben can only shake his head as he chuckles.

“Damn. Their parents got busy,” Rory whistles.

“They’re not blood related; they just grew up together.”

“Next in line,” a voice calls. You look to the front of the line, realizing that you’re next. The four of you quickly walk up to the woman behind the counter. She smiles her customer service smile and asks, “What can I get you today?” You all give your orders to the brunette behind the counter, Rory and Mina buying the most expensive drink they can get. She repeats the order back. “Is that correct?” she asks, earning a nod from Ben who is paying. “Okay. Your order should be ready soon!”

You follow the group to the side closer to the pick-up counter where Ben’s name will be called. “So where is your best friend?” Mina asks, eyes scanning the staff behind the counter.

Ben looks behind the counter where Mina’s gaze remains. “Hmm. He’s probably in the back or on break,” he answers, turning back to look at her. “He’s real.”

Rory and Mina can only chuckle at the determination Ben is giving. “Okay, okay.”

“So are we going to start doing secret Santa? I’m telling you, it’s a great idea,” you voice, pushing your idea on the crew once again.

You’ve been dedicated to having secret Santa since last Christmas. It’s something you have always wanted to do, but didn’t have enough friends to do it with. Even now you don’t have enough friends to do it without it being easy as to who was picked by which person, but if you find enough people willing, it’ll be a great idea to try out. When they say nothing you add, “C’mon! You can even invite your friends to join and hang out with us at the party.”

“Five people is still not enough, Y/N,” Ben says, shaking his head while giving you a sympathetic look.

You groan, “That’s why you invite some of your friends over so that we can all get to know one another and then ask who wants to join the present exchange.” You then cross your arms over your chest. “You guys always say you want to do something with friends only, and here I am presenting to you with a pretty good idea.”

They stand in silence, looking lost in their thoughts at your words. Finally, Ben is the first to sigh and say, “Fine. I’ll ask him and find some other friends.” He points to you. “But you’re planning the party for all of us to meet and the party for the secret Santa.”

It’s Mina’s turn to exhale. “I’ll ask around.”

You turn to Rory who only nods. Breaking out into a huge smile, you say in a singsong tone, “I’ll have everything ready. I promise.”

“Order for Ben,” a disembodied voice calls.

You all turn to the pick-up counter to see four cups in a drink carrier. Following Ben, you watch him drag the carrier closer to him. You don’t see him look up and smile as he says, “Hey.” You tear your eyes away from the cups where yours lay in wait for you to devour and look up to see Ben’s attention on the person behind the counter. He turns to the three of you. “Guys, this is Jungkook. Jungkook this is Rory, Mina and Y/N.”

Jungkook is for sure real, but he doesn’t even look real. He’s tall, almost as tall as Ben, but not quite there. His cherry red hair is brought back into a bun, some of it draping around his sculpted jawline. His round, coffee brown eyes glances at your friends before landing on you, a smile gracing his lips. “Hello,” he says in a silvery, husky tone.

You feel how Mina sounds when she replies, small and taut. Ben is friends with this God like figure? It’s not that Ben isn’t good looking—it's more that you’d have to be either very beautiful or funny as hell to be friends with someone like Jungkook. You’re putting him on a pedestal when his personality could be horrible.

“So, my friends—mainly this one,” he begins, nudging your arm with his shoulder, “wants to do a secret Santa and since we need more people, Y/N is going to throw a party beforehand so we can all get to know each other. You interested?”

Jungkook can only smile for a moment, expression clearly taken aback from the sudden invitation to a party where he’ll only know one person. He looks to you, his smile a bit more genuine and answers, “I don’t mind going. Just tell me when.”

You smile at the memory as you turn off the ignition to your car and get out. You stand in front of your mom’s house, letting out a small sigh before opening the trunk and pulling out the presents you got for your mom and one for your siblings. You stack the presents on top of one another, realizing that you’ll have to make trips. However, to your luck and the sense of a sibling in trouble, your brother appears beside you.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite sister,” he says, giving you a side hug before grabbing the stacked presents from you.

You chuckle, “If Cal heard you say that, she’d throw a fit.” Grabbing the other gifts and items you bought, you close the trunk and follow him up to your mom’s two story house. You make your way up the walkway towards the decorated front door. Your mom goes above and beyond when it comes to decorations. The outdoor has lights lining the roof, two inflatable snowmen were on the snow-covered lawn, and as you get closer to the steel entry door, it’s decorated with a garland running along the window and door; a wreath hanging above the entrance.

The door flings open to reveal your mom. She smiles widely at you, crows feet forming at the eyes. “Hi, honey,” she says in her nasal voice, opening her arms out for you to walk in to. You smile, juggling the items in your arms as you wrap them around her waist, hugging her tightly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hi, Mom.” You release her, but she doesn’t seem ready to let go of you just yet. It’s understandable since the last time you saw her was around a month ago, but your arms are getting tired from holding all the heavy objects. “Okay—Mom, my arms hurt.”

She chuckles, removing herself and her grip around you. “Sorry.” She grabs the items from your left hand. “Why don’t we put these under the tree and have breakfast?”

You follow her out of the entryway and into the living room where the Christmas tree stands. It stands in the far left corner between the stand and the couch. It’s tall and decorative with old ornaments you made when you were a kid. The television is playing a Christmas movie you forgot the name to. It’s old, but the scenes play in your mind like a record. Your sister sits on the couch facing across the television. She looks up to you as you follow your mom across the room and place the presents under the tree.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite sister,” she calls, getting up from the couch, making her way around the coffee table in the middle of the room and wraps you in a just as tight hug as your mother’s.

“I’m your only sister,” you explain, patting her back before she let’s go.

“But that’s what Nathan said right?” she inquiries, laughing when you don’t deny fast enough. “That’s what he told me when I came.”

“You’re both my favorite sister,” he defends, shrugging his shoulders as he walks to the island that somewhat separates the kitchen and living room. He grabs a piece of bacon from the plate placed in what looks like a field of plates.

“We’re your only sisters and can you not eat until we’re all at the table,” Cal groans, shaking her head as she goes to the island to grab the plates and place them at the table in the dining room to the left of the kitchen.

Nathan says something you can't understand due to his chewing, but he nevertheless grabs the plates and follows Cal’s lead. You do the same, grabbing a plate full of pancakes and another plate full of eggs, placing them at the center of the table. Once everything is set, you take a seat next to Cal, your mom and Nathan sitting across from you. You chat with one another as you fill your plates with a little bit of everything. You listen to their stories as coffee, milk and orange juice is poured into cups.

Your mom took advantage of the three of you being in the same room as her as she tells you about that one day at work where one of her students laughed so hard at their own prank that they farted and that resulted in urinating themselves a bit. “I don’t understand why I chose to be a teacher, but here we are,” she sighs, taking a sip of her coffee.

“You should have been a nurse,” Cal chimes, shoving a piece of toast in her mouth. You glance between your mom and Cal, waiting for the tension to rise. With Cal being exactly like your mom; hard headed and with the same attitude, they always butt heads and sometimes ruin whatever get together you have.

“Elena is pregnant,” Nathan suddenly blurts. You stare at him wide eyed. Usually when your mom and Cal get into arguments, Nathan will come up with some stupid comment to ease the tension, but this one was a lot bigger than his usual lies.

“What?” you mom whispers.

“Yeah, Nathan. At least come up with a believable lie,” Cal chuckles.

“Uh,” he begins, adjusting himself in his seat, “today’s not a lie. Elena is pregnant—the doctor told us a few days ago.” He brings his hands up and shakes them lightly, somewhat looking like he’s doing jazz hands. “It’s a Christmas miracle. Merry Christmas,” he says in a tremulous tone.

You, Cal and Nathan wait in anxious silence for your mom to say something. She’s silent for a moment before smiling, eyes getting glossy and tears streaming down her cheeks as she reaches forward and hugs Nathan in a tight grip. “I’m going to be a grandma,” she cries.

Cal nudges you with her shoulder. “We’re gonna be aunts,” she tells you, eyes wide and clearly in shock.

“I’m going to be an uncle!” Jungkook yells, wrapping his arms around you from behind while you’re trying to fold your laundry. “I can’t believe it.”

You giggle, “I know, I know. You’ve been screaming about it since Seokjin first told us.” Jungkook introduced you to his brothers six months after meeting him. Six months after that you were asked to be his girlfriend and now in nine months time, you’ll be a not legit aunt.

“I always thought Taehyung would be the first to have kids since he’s such a kid person, but since Seokjin is the one with a wife, it makes more sense.” He smiles at you as he removes his grip from around your waist and takes a seat on your bed where your folded clothes lie. “I’m going to spoil that baby and ruin Seokjin’s life with how spoiled that baby is.”

“Well you’re about to ruin my neatly folded clothes with your determination to spoil a baby that hasn’t been born yet,” you laugh, grabbing his arm and pulling up off your bed.

You’re not sure why that memory came to you all of a sudden. Maybe it’s because you’re going to be an aunt in nine months. Maybe it’s because you’re going to spoil that baby like Jungkook always talked about and did when Haru was born. Maybe his dedication rubbed off on you.

“We should probably head out,” Nathan’s voice rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Dad’s lunch is starting soon.” You follow in suit, getting up from your spot on the couch in the living room. You grab the remaining wrapping paper that was torn apart off the floor, tossing it in the trash where the rest lay. Grabbing the presents everyone got you, you place them carefully in a bag, feeling the weight of it drag your arm down. "Bye, Mom. Thanks for the presents and breakfast." Nathan gives your mom a tight hug.

You smile at your mom as she releases your brother and opens her arms for you to walk into. “Come by more often, yeah? You only have one mother you know,” she lectures, rubbing your back affectionately.

You chuckle. “Yes, yes. I’ll come by and visit more often.” Saying goodbye to your mom, you get into your car and follow your siblings to your dad’s house on the other side of town. All five of you used to live in the middle of the city; a nice cozy home where you shared so many memories. Your parents divorced and your father moved up north while your mother moved south. Both completely away from one another where they never have to see each other for any reason other than something important happening to you or Cal or Nathan.

Twenty minutes later, you pull up to the driveway of your dad’s house. Just like your mom’s, your father’s house is decorated with lights, and other types of decorations on the outside. You can only imagine what it looks like on the inside with your dad’s new girlfriend always being extra when it comes to Christmas. More than your mom. Grabbing the rest of your siblings presents and your dad’s gift from the trunk, you follow Cal and Nathan to the front door. Cal knocks on the door and a few seconds later the door opens revealing your dad with red frosting all over his lips.

“Hey,” he begins, voice booming with excitement, “I’m glad you guys made it just in time! We’re putting frosting on the cookies.” Your dad moves to open the door more for you three to enter.

“Put frosting on the cookies or eat the frosting?” Nathan asks, placing a finger on his chin where a small dab of frosting stuck and wiped it on his apron.

Your father laughs, “You know me, I can’t help myself when it comes to frosting.”

The day goes on as you spend a few hours at your dad’s place. You talk about what you’ve done since you last saw one another, Nathan being a future father, and how long the lines were for the recent Christmas movie that came out in theaters. You opened the presents and ate the cookies they made—they were actually good. Everything was peaceful, and for the first time, you spent Christmas without one of your parents saying something bad about the other.

That is until your dad made a joke about your mom and you decided it was time to leave. You say your goodbyes once again, and left the house. You’ll wait for your father’s apology text; you’ll tell him to stop acting like a child and grow up about the divorce, and that’ll be the end of that. Your mom may hear about it, and you’ll have to tell her the same thing.

It’s your endless circle of bull.

You show up to Rory and Mina’s place earlier than usual. When you knock on the door, a surprised Mina opens it, but it immediately disappears when you shake your head at her. You enter the small, comforting house as Rory walks up to you and hands you a glass of eggnog. You drank it like you’re dehydrated. You just want today to be over already.

“We were just about to decorate the tree if you want to help,” Mina says, holding up some ornaments.

“You’re barely doing it on the last day?” you question, placing the glass on the coffee table before following her to the tree that was also in the corner of the living room.

“This is our friend tree,” Mina starts, tone defensive, “we already have our actual tree up in the den.”

“An actual tree?” You grab an ornament from her hand and hang it on the “friend” tree.

“We have one for the family, and we have one for our friends. All ornaments for this tree has pictures and stupid things from you guys,” Rory explains, lifting an ornament picture of Ben. Taking a closer look you see that it’s a picture of him in the middle of taking a bite out of his burger. HIs mouth opened and his eyes looked wild and hungry as he ate. You can’t help but laugh. “Remember his face when we first put it up on the tree? He was pissed.” Rory laughs along with you.

You remember that memory. Ben lectured you guys for a while. As you continue to decorate the tree, you can’t help but remember your first time putting up a tree together with just Jungkook. It was your first Christmas as a couple and he wanted to help you decorate your tree at your apartment.

“I say we don’t put lights on your tree,” he grunts, struggling to untangle the Christmas lights.

You grin as you watch him before pulling out another box of decorations. “You almost got it,” you encourage, clearly finding this amusing.

“If you keep smiling like that I’ll just leave you here to do this yourself,” Jungkook warns, glancing at you with a small hint of playfulness.

“Okay. Sorry, sorry.” You go over and sit across from him on the floor. Grabbing the other set of lights, you untangle the knot with him. “Thanks for helping me by the way.” You glance at him, watching a small smile grow at his lips.

“Christmas is my favorite holiday. The decorations, the present wrapping, opening the presents, and a bunch more,” he explains, a look of victory on his face when the lights untangle. “Why aren’t you as excited as I am?”

You give Jungkook an awkward smile. You never told him about your parent’s divorce, but you suppose now would be a good time as ever. “Uh…” you trail off, handing your still tangled lights to him. “My parents divorced, and now they’ve ruined all of this by talking bad about one another and always trying to keep you from doing something with the other parent. They just ruined the whole… family thing Christmas is about.”

Jungkook is suddenly to his feet, the lights untangled once again. He looks down at you with determination. Holding his hand out for you, he announces, “Well today I’m going to make you love the whole process of Christmas all over again.”

“What?” you chuckle nervously, slowly reaching for his hand.

He grabs it, startling you as he pulls you to your feet. You don’t have great balance with the force he causes when pulling you as you fall into him. He wraps his arms around you as you look to meet his eyes. He smiles his toothy smile, placing a small kiss on your nose. “Let’s decorate the hell out of that tree.”

You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks. You should be used to this by now, but every time he does something cute, you’d only act like it was the first time he’s ever done it. “Okay,” you mumble, feeling him release you from his grasp, but you’re only disappointed it ended so soon.

Walking to the tree, you watch Jungkook as he gets on the step stool and starts at the top of the tree to wrap the lights around. You stand on the other side, grabbing the lights to bring it around the tree and back into his hands. Finishing the first lights, Jungkook gets down and grabs the second set of lights, but not before pulling his phone out of his pocket and browsing through it before you hear a familiar song play through the Bluetooth speaker you have sitting next to your television. You smile as he looks at you. Suddenly he starts dancing to the Christmas song playing. Swaying side-to-side, snapping his fingers, he looks like he’s never danced before. You can't hold back your laughter as you watch him dance his way back to the stool to finish wrapping the tree in lights. You bob your head to the song as you help him with the lights, then the garland and finally the ornaments and star.

Everything is ready. Ready for presents to go under and pictures to be taken. You’re going to be one of those people who takes a picture of their tree, but Jungkook thinks of something better and takes your hand in his, bringing you closer to him. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other holding your hand to your chest as he sways side-to-side with you. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you rest your head on his shoulder as well. The two of you danced in silence for a while, even though some songs were upbeat.

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers after a few more seconds of silence.

You don’t hesitate, and maybe that’s what shocks you the most as you answer, “I love you, too.”

Everyone is gathered in the living room, talking and laughing about everything. It’s getting hard to have everyone hang out, but you’re grateful to see familiar faces smiling. Some are running late or won’t be showing up at all, and it hurts you just a bit to know that you’re all growing and maturing as time goes on. You won’t be seeing these people as often as you used to or wish to. Eventually they’ll just disappear out of your life and move on with their own. Enjoying everything that comes their way while you struggle to stay afloat with everything happening in your life.

You get up from your seat, telling the few who notice you try and leave that you only need air. That you’ll be back in just a sec. Once outside in the spacious backyard, you take in several deep breaths. There are plenty of times where you wish you had their lives—any of their lives. They get over their parents divorce, or their family is still one. They don’t have to mature so early in life, and they enjoy the little things. They love their job. They’re happy where they’re at, but always willing to strive for more.

Your life only crumbles.

Closing your eyes, you imagine Jungkook walking out the back door to comfort you. He’s always concerned and late at every important event. He lights up your world when you struggle to swim above the roaring waters.

Opening your eyes, Jungkook stands in front of you, your favorite smile plastered on his face. “I see you’ve missed me,” he says, a hint of teasing in his tone. You can only roll your eyes at him. “Do you want to build a snowman?” he suddenly questions. “It seems like you forgot the meaning of Christmas.”

You scoff, “Are you Jack Frost or Santa or something?”

Jungkook shrugs. “I may be.” He walks past you and more to the middle of the lawn, getting on his knees. “So are we doing this or what?”

You sigh, clearly giving in to him like you always do as you walk up to him and get to your knees. You gather as much snow to the middle, creating a bigger pile and forming it into a ball. When the two of you decide it’s just big enough, you start to form a smaller ball for the middle section.

“Tough day?” he asks, eyes focused on forming the ball.

“More like year,” you confess.

“Look,” he begins, slowly picking up the ball and placing it on the bigger one, only for it to somewhat break apart, “fuck—life has been rough for you. For the years I’ve known you, you are always the one to take everything in. No matter how hard and tiring it is, you have to just make time for yourself only. Don’t let your parents get to you; tell them off once in a while. They’re adults, too, and they have to know that putting the kid in the middle of their ridiculous fight is getting them nowhere. Also you need to have fun, too. You’re in your twenties and acting like you’re forty-something is not the answer. I don’t like telling people I’m dating a grandma.”

You stare at him in shock. “Grandmother? That’s—how—” You have no idea what to say to that. So, instead of saying anything, you grab a handful of snow and shove it in his face. “Shall I tell people I’m with a kid then? I don’t think they’ll like that.”

With his eyes closed, he is frozen from the impact. He wipes at his eyes, clearly in shock as he stares at you. “I see this is how we’re starting our night.” You don’t have time to react as a handful of snow was shoved in your face.

It’s an all out war with him as the two of you go to opposite ends of the yard and hide behind trees as you throw snowballs at one another. Clearly you’re both bad seeing as for the following ten minutes, you both hit each other once during the entire fight. Jungkook catches you off guard when he suddenly lies on the floor, stretching his arms and legs out and begins to sweep them in a semicircle. You drop the snowball and walk over and lie next to him, creating your own snow angel.

From the corner of your eye, you see him get up and look down at his masterpiece. He looks pleased before looking over to you. He gives you a sad smile. “I know life is hard, and I know me not being here is harder, but know that even though I’m not here, I’ll always be with you. I love you so much, Y/N, and you’re going to do amazing things in life. But you need to be a kid once in a while. How else am I to appear?” He chuckles. “Bring me an Christmas tree ornament yeah?”

You wipe at your tears. “Yeah.”

That’s how you spend your Christmas with Jungkook at the secret Santa party, and that’s what he’d say if he was still here. But he’s not here.

“Y/N?” You open your eyes to see Rory, Mina and Ben standing around you. “Everyone left and the cemetery should still be open. Ready to see Jungkook?” Ben asks, holding his hand out to you.

You let out a shaky breath and reply, “Yeah.”

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #bangtanhq #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook au

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n0-eyedtaissa · 3 years

Text

The Times They Are a-Changin’ (Little Brother!Sweet Pea)

A/N: Happy graduation to our class of Riverdale High School, and welcome back Sweet Pea even though you said like ten words during the episode. You looked great in the background, buddy. Here’s a little something about Ruthie and Sweet Pea and how they’re reacting to his graduation.

Word Count: 6,508

tagging @hughstheforcelou @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @humangrumpycat @brittanyvengeance, and @thecaptainsgingersnap for encouraging me to post!

The winds of change had been blowing in Riverdale as of lately with students and parents alike crossing off the calendar days until graduation. It was a constant bittersweet reminder with banners going up in store windows congratulating the graduating class of Riverdale High School, baker cakes being custom-ordered with names written in black icing cursive. Ruthie can’t help but feel a bitter tug at her chest as she pushes the shopping cart across the grocery store, checking off the mile-long list of ingredients that Maria and Atzi needed to make food for the big party. Ruthie tosses a few more items into the wobbly metal cart and makes her way to the checkout stand, trying not to be impatient as she waited. There’s a handful of people in front of her in line, mothers buying last minute ingredients for favorite meals to be eaten as a high school graduate, a gaggle of teens seeing if their fake IDs were actually good enough to buy a case of cheap beer to bring to whatever party was inevitably happening that weekend. Ruthie thumbs through the rack of cards propped up by the register and plucks out one with a lot of space to write in.

When she was out of the grocery store (with significantly less money in her pocket), Ruthie is overcome with this sudden feeling of “rightness”. She doesn’t have to worry about pinching pennies and stretching paychecks to make ends meet any more, she no longer feared trips to the grocery store and the always looming threat of her card being declined at the cash register when she had a basket full of items. Ruthie did what she was supposed to do: she took care of her brother Sweet Pea, took care of herself, and kept a roof over both of their heads. And despite all of the bullshit that the two of them have faced in their short amount of years, Sweet Pea was graduating. And at the end of the summer he and Fangs were packing up Dante’s old truck and driving it upstate, where they’d settle into their own apartment before their first week of college. Ruthie is overcome with a sudden burst of pride for herself and for her brother, their resilience and fighting strength. Growing up was scary but they did it, even when it wasn’t easy and every fiber of their being was telling them they weren’t gonna get anywhere any ways, so they may as well give up now. But Ruthie and Sweet Pea never did.

After she drops off the groceries for the Abuelas, Ruthie is panting when she bounds through the front door to the Soh-Peterson trailer, swearing up a storm after having to carry so many bags up and down the driveway and putting everything away in its rightful place.

“God, Maria is a pack-rat, I swear!” The sound of Ruthie tossing her keys onto the linoleum counter is enough to startle Sweet Pea, who had been mindlessly ripping out papers and assignments from his old binder. “Every time I have to go shopping for her I come home feeling like I need a drink…”

“If you’re offering, will you bring me one?” Sweet Pea smirks.

Ruthie huffs in response. “If I do that, will you also bring me whatever shirt you’re wearing for the ceremony tomorrow so that I can be sure to iron it?” She heads into the kitchen to fill up a pot of water to boil. She was making spaghetti with extra oregano, Sweet Pea’s favorite.

He heads into his bedroom for a quick moment and returns with a wrinkled dark blue dress shirt. He holds it up to Ruthie. “Do I have to wear a tie?” It’s such an innocent question that Ruthie cant help but laugh.

“Do you want to wear a tie?” Sweet Pea shrugs at his sister. “There’s that handful of Dad’s that we kept in the hall closet if you want to look through those. And for the love of god, please, anything but that ugly Christmas tie.” Ruthie turns to pour the dried spaghetti noodles into the boiling water and Sweet Pea hangs his choices over the door of the hall closet, in Ruthie’s line of sight so it wouldn’t be forgotten.

The two of them eat dinner together, with Sweet Pea trading anecdotes about his last day of high school through bites of warm bread and rich pasta. He tells Ruthie all about the school’s unearthed time capsule and what it held, tells her that there’s a whole spread in the yearbook dedicated to the Serpents (and that he’d have to show her all the good pictures of him). Ruthie smiles at her younger brother as she watches his eyes light up as he talks about the last few grueling moments of waiting for the seventh period bell to ring, officially signaling the end of the school day and his high school career.

“It was like everyone was holding their breath, you know? And when the bell rings everyone throws all of their stuff into the air, all of their papers, and everyone was hugging, going for high fives, it was weird—” Sweet Pea pauses to wipe away the red marinara sauce from the corner of his mouth. “Reggie comes at me for a bro-hug…I thought he was gonna pick me up off the ground!” He laughs and shakes his head. It was a moment that was a clear testament to growth, because a mere two years ago, if Sweet Pea and Reggie were in that close of proximity, one of them was gearing up to swing at the other.

“Definitely weird” .

Ruthie holds up her almost empty bottle of beer in a toast. “To your last day of high school.”

Sweet Pea clinks his bottle against hers and then takes their bowls and silverware to the kitchen to be washed without Ruthie needing to ask him. He rinses things off and washes them clean before handing them over to Ruthie to dry, a system that had been perfected after years of not so careful practice. When the dishes are done and put away, Sweet Pea retreats to his bedroom for the night and Ruthie doesn’t bug him. She knows that something like this can be a lot to process, especially for a person like him who isn’t really the biggest fan of change. Ruthie knows that sometimes you simply need a moment to sit with your emotions, whatever they may be. She waits patiently, can hear Sweet Pea talking to someone on the phone, Fangs maybe, so she waits a little longer. Ruthie sneaks out into the kitchen and opens the freezer, spends a few minutes spooning chunks of frostbitten chocolate chip ice cream into two mugs, one for her and one for Sweet Pea. When she hears him hang up the phone, Ruthie gives two quick taps on his bedroom door before she enters.

Sweet Pea’s sprawled out on his bed, legs tangled in the blankets that are barely hanging onto his twin sized mattress. His yearbook is next to him, filled with gleaming photo paper and inscriptions done in sharpie marker. The side of his left hand is smudged with pen ink and he’s trying to scribble his name in big graffiti letters onto the inside front cover of his yearbook. Sweet Pea sees that his sister came bearing ice cream so he smiles, sitting up and inviting Ruthie to rest on the foot of his bed. They clink their spoons together and each take way too big of a bite, fighting off brain freeze as Ruthie starts flipping through Sweet Pea’s heavy yearbook. No one says anything for a minute and they settle into a comfortable silence. Ruthie finds the section filled with senior portraits of the graduating class and can’t help but marvel at how both Sweet Pea and Fangs have grown.

“What time do you need to be there tomorrow?” Ruthie asks, sliding off of Sweet Pea’s bed and grabbing his empty, sticky mug. There was still a lot of work that Maria and Atzi needed help with before the graduation party for Fangs, Queenie, and Sweet Pea, and Ruthie was finding a weird sense of peace amongst the chaos.

“Seniors need to be in the gym by 4:30, and the ceremony starts at five o’clock so maybe get there at 5:15 so you don’t have to sit though the speeches”

“I’ll be there on time, don’t worry.” Ruthie laughs and leans her weight against the doorframe.

“Are you gonna sit with the Fogarty’s?” Sweet Pea asks, somewhat nervously.

“Of course I’m going to.” She reassures. “What, you think FP’s gonna save me a seat between him and Alice Cooper?”

Sweet Pea frowns at his sister’s joke but Ruthie thinks it’s hilarious.

“You’ll see me, don’t worry. The whole family is gonna sit together and cheer so loud for you three that you’ll be embarrassed”

“I won’t be embarrassed” Sweet Pea promised, almost forcefully, as though he needed to be sure his sister believed him.

Ruthie quirks up an eyebrow but chocks up the sudden outburst of emotion as a reaction to everything around Sweet Pea that was changing. She stands up straight, metal spoons clanging against the empty ceramic in her hands. “Try not to stay up too late, okay? You’re gonna have a long day tomorrow”

“Yeah, I gotta get my beauty sleep” Sweet Pea jokes, pulling his bed covers back up over his long legs.

“Gonna need it” Ruthie laughs over her shoulder as she makes her way back down the hallway to the kitchen. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth!” She turns the faucet on hot and pretends that she doesn’t hear Sweet Pea groan from the other room.

~~~

The morning of Graduation Day, both Sweet Pea and Ruthie wake up way before their alarms, anxiety already cold and pooling at the bottom of their empty stomachs. Sweet Pea manages to close his eyes for a few more minutes before being started awake again, feeling like he was running late, when he realizes that he has nowhere to be. For the first time in four whole years, Sweet Pea doesn’t need to spring out of bed and rush to get in the shower before Ruthie hogs all the hot water. He doesn’t have to worry about what time he needs to leave for school, or account how much time it’ll take to get to Riverdale High School all the way from the Southside. Sweet Pea didn’t have to worry about any of that because today, he was graduating high school.

When he gets to the kitchen, Ruthie is already there with a pot of coffee steaming and a stack of warm pancakes on a waiting plate. She laughs and gives him a sheepish smile, gesturing with the spatula to tell him to sit down. “Felt weird that we both weren’t running around each other trying to get ready to leave, so I decided to take advantage of all this time.”

“Thank you” Sweet Pea mumbles through a full mouth.

It was a rare day where the two siblings seemed to have nothing but free time. Ruthie makes a thick stack of pancakes and they both eat almost all of what’s on their plates. Sweet Pea washes the dishes and she dries, and by that time it’s only 10:45. They’re both too hopped up on coffee to even bother trying to take a mid-morning nap, and that’s how they end up watching a handful of episodes of The Price Is Right until Ruthie excuses herself to get in the shower. No one has to rush that day. No one is pounding on the door yelling about how they needed to get in the bathroom to finish getting ready, threatening bodily harm on one another. Ruthie takes time lathering her hair with shampoo and conditioner, relishing in the warm water that she actually got to enjoy. No one had anything to stress out about today. Ruthie gets out of the shower, takes her time, and Sweet Pea gets in. Ruthie irons his dress shirt and his tie and hangs them back up until he’s ready. The two siblings convene for half of an episode of some daytime talkshow until Sweet Pea complains that he’s hungry. Sweet Pea makes grilled cheese sandwiches for late lunch while Ruthie does her makeup in the living room. Sweet Pea leaves the pan and their plates in the sink knowing that later he’ll wash and Ruthie will dry.

“Pick up the pace a little bit, okay? It’s almost four and we’re probably gonna need to leave soon so you have a chance to find your friends and sit with them.” Ruthie breezes into Sweet Pea’s room, dressed up in a way that made her look older than she was, but not as old as she felt. She looks good in her blazer and her heeled boots, like a proud parent.

Sweet Pea is dressed but his shirt’s not tucked in and his tie is crooked. He stands in front of the mirror and tries to fasten his father’s old tie into a Windsor knot but his fingers are soo long and too clumsy. “Shit…” He mumbles and Ruthie can tell he’s getting frustrated.

She doesn’t have to say here let me, she simply gives her brother the same knowing look she always does and steps in front of him to refasten and straighten Sweet Pea’s tie for him. Ruthie smooths her hands over his shoulders, wiping away creases and floating motes of dust and lint. She takes a long look at him and realizes how much he’s grown to look like their dad, or the way that Ruthie remembered her dad looking in the few old photographs stashed in a shoebox somewhere in her closet.

“You look so handsome” She whispers, her voice tight in her throat as she tries to will away any hot tears from spilling.

“Oh c’mon, don’t cry, Ruth” Sweet Pea says with an uncomfortable laugh, stepping away from his watery-eyed sister. “Cause if you start crying, I might start crying and then what good does that do for either one of us?” Ruthie laughs and gives a big exhale as she tries to compose herself.

“God I feel like Maria” She laughs, thinking of the Abuelas and the wrinkled tissues they always seemed to pull out of nowhere. Ruthie can’t help but shudder as she remembers back when Dante graduated high school and how she was surprised that Maria and Atzi weren’t dehydrated from crying under the hot spring sun.

Sweet Pea takes a look at himself in the mirror, running his comb though his hair to gel it back into place with sticky pomade. His shrugs on his long, blue graduation robe and tucks his cap under one of his arms before giving himself a last once-over in the mirror with a sigh, like this was as good as it was going to get. Ruthie slings her heavy purse over her shoulder and soon the two siblings are making their way out the door and down the front steps of the house. Sweet Pea almost hits his head getting into Ruthie’s compact car, she laughs but he scoffs and pulls the ray-ban sunglasses out of her hair and puts them on for himself.

The drive across town to Riverdale High School was longer than usual, the long lines of cars all leading to the same place. Ruthie honks her car horn, if not because she thought it could make things go faster, but just because she could. Sweet Pea scrolls through radio static until he finds a station that’s playing some old Green Day song that he and his sister used to dance around to when they were younger. He bounces his knee along with the rhythmic thumping of the drums and Ruthie taps her fingers along on the steering wheel. Sweet Pea’s nervous, they both know it but neither one of them would admit that. He’s worried that he’ll trip when walking across the stage, that his long legs and the long silk gown will get the better of him.

“Just breathe” Ruthie nods, following the cars all turning towards the high school. She parks her car towards the back of the school’s parking lot and waits with Sweet Pea as he tries to coordinate where to meet Fangs and the rest of their friends.

Ruthie makes Sweet Pea stand out in front of the school sign to take pictures in his graduation garb and her sunglasses. She snaps a few silly ones but doesn’t make Sweet Pea stop to take that many smiling pictures, knowing that after the ceremony and at the party he’d be having to run away from Maria and Atzi and their too-fancy cameras, who wanted to take pictures of the youngsters just as much as they needed their help with figuring out which buttons do what. Sweet Pea finds the Fogarty-Abrejo clan easily, giving Queenie a one-shouldered hug and slapping Fangs on the back, flicking around the blue frilled tassel hanging off his graduation cap. Maria and Atzi are doting on the two young men, going to pinch their cheeks and straighten their collars. Chimalma is lecturing Queenie about making sure she zipped up her blue graduation gown like the rest of the other students, still somehow unaware of the fact that the more she told her daughter not to do something, the more it made her want to do it. Ruthie raises her eyebrow at Queenie and the girl winks in return.

“One picture, you three, then I’ll leave you alone until later I promise” Ruthie holds up her phone and gestures for Sweet Pea, Queenie, and Fangs to all get together. The three squish together, giving cheesy smilies that will one day end up in a photo album with years worth of other cheesy smiles. Fangs is still a head shorter than both Sweet Pea and Queenie so he stands on the toes of his dress boots, smiling bigger than either one of them like it could make up for his lack of height. Sweet Pea hooks his long arms around his friends and pulls them close for one last picture and Queenie holds up her graduation cap to make sure it’s in frame, the picture of her father decorating the back of her cap watching over her protectively.

Last pictures were taken, collars were straightened and hair was smoothed down. Mr. Weatherbee makes the announcement that all graduating seniors needed to report to the area behind the gym for attendance, and that parents, families, and other distinguished guests could make their way to their seats. “See you on the other side, little brother” Ruthie gives Sweet Pea a wink as she holds the door open for the older women.

Riverdale High School’s graduation was like all high school graduation ceremonies in the way that it as both long and boring, incredibly drawn out by speeches from principals and vice-principles, esteemed faculty, and the class valedictorian. Betty Cooper delivers a moving speech about innocence and growth, stressing the importance of taking the time to be young and have fun, especially in a town that was plagued with so much heartache. There’s not a dry eye in the house when the young woman takes to addressing all of the trauma she and her fellow students had faced when Riverdale had them all in it’s clutches: “And it’s not fair that so many of our classmates aren’t here to walk with us today. And it’s not right that same of our parents aren’t here to watch those of us who are.” This strikes a chord in Ruthie and she can’t help but think what it would be like if Major Chase Lang Soh was here to watch his son walk the stage to get his diploma, or wonder how loud Pallaton Abrejo would whistle when his daughter’s name was called, smiling as Queenie’s blue silken robe billowed out behind her, (still unzipped, much to her mother’s dismay). Pallaton would tell Queenie that he was proud of her, and that he thought she was pretty damn cool for not wanting to blend in with the ranks of her peers.

“I wish Dante got to be here tonight” Ruthie leans over to whisper in Maria’s ear. The older woman pats her hand in response, a reaction that Ruthie thought was rather odd for Maria, but Ruthie chocks it up to her not wanting to be the rude people whispering. Apparently Dante was busy with some project over in Centerville, but Fangs had a graduation card coming in the mail and he promised he’d try to convince Spyder and CD to all drive down with him some weekend pretty soon. At least that’s what Dante told Ruthie on the phone a few days ago when he told her he wasn’t coming to graduation.

Everybody sits up a little taller in their chairs once student’s names started to be called, shifting in their cold metal seats and craning their necks to find where their loved ones were sitting amongst the masses of students. Ruthie claps politely for some of the names that she recognized, people that Sweet Pea talked about or hung out with, friends of Fangs and Queenie’s that she’d been introduced to at family parties and summer barbecues. For the most part Ruthie is pretty bored, reading through the flimsy paper program and wondering what it was like for everyone back when she graduated high school over at Southside High. Neither Ruthie nor Sweet Pea got to have their parents present at their high school graduation, but the Fogarty family never made them feel unwelcome or like anything less than family. They had cheered loudly when Ruthie’s name had been called, whistling and yelling when she walked across the stage. Dante and CD both laughed, watching Ruthie’s eye twitch as the principal called for Ruthann Soh-Peterson. There may have been a smaller number of people to watch Sweet Pea, Queenie, and Fangs graduate, but just because they weren’t loved widely it didn’t mean they weren’t loved deeply.

After Principal Weatherbee’s time at the Farm (Edgar Evernever’s poorly disguised cult), he got super progressive and made it a point to tell all of the seniors that on graduation day they could go by whatever their chosen name was, nicknames included. Ruthie and Sweet Pea had talked about it a few weeks ago at dinner, the merits of going by his given name for the first and only time in his high school career. “Why would I?” Sweet Pea had asked his sister, stabbing his fork into an unsuspecting chunk of broccoli. It was the last time the two brought it up.

Their three names are called sequentially; Queenie Abrejo, Fangs Fogarty, Sweet Pea Soh-Peterson. The uproar of cheers for Queenie, Fangs, and Sweet Pea was so loud that it paled every other family’s reaction in comparison. Ruthie whistled loudly, two fingers in her mouth. The rest of their big, blended family cheered and shouted loudly, clapping loudly and tapping canes against the polished gym floor. The ranks of polished Northside parents stick up their noses at the spectacle and go back to giving fake-polite golf claps. The rest of the ceremony goes by in a flurry of names, students in blue silk gowns walking across the stage to shake hands with Weatherbee and get their diplomas as quick as possible so they could do the cliche cap toss before getting the hell out of dodge, never having to set foot in the halls of Riverdale High School ever again. Atzi’s snoring on Maria’s shoulder and is startled awake by the thunderous applause after the final concluding words. “It’s over?”

When the ceremony is over it isn’t too hard to spot Sweet Pea through the crowd. Ruthie picks through the throng of people and runs at her brother with her arms wide open.

“You did it! Oh, my little high school graduate” Ruthie laughs, snaking her arms around Sweet Pea’s middle and pulling him into a crushing hug.

“Little?” Queenie raises her eyebrow, smirking over at Ruthie as she finally shucks off her graduation robe, handing it off to her little sister who didn’t mind wearing it.

“I’m so proud of you” Ruthie says, releasing her grip on her brother. “I’m so proud of all three of you, you did it!”

“Yeah we did!” Sweet Pea says, hooking his arm around Fangs’s shoulder as the group trailed back to the car.

~~~

The pageantry of Graduation Day was for the parents, everyone knew this. But the graduation party was for everyone else, one of the more enjoyable rights of passage after finishing high school. That was the part Sweet Pea was excited for. After the ceremony he tosses his cap and gown in the backseat of his sister’s car and loosens his tie before Ruthie can even start the engine. The drive back to the Southside is comfortably quiet, like both Sweet Pea and Ruthie needed a moment to recharge their batteries before the festivities. Ruthie pulls the car into the driveway, gravel crunching under her tires, and soon the two of them are barreling up the front steps. Sweet Pea holds out his hand for Ruthie’s keys and unlocks the door quickly, like he couldn’t bare to be in his nice clothes a minute more.

“I won’t make you wear a tie but can you dress up a little? For the pictures?” Ruthie asks, yelling from the kitchen as she gathers up any last minute things she needed to bring over to the Fogarty’s. “Something with sleeves, perhaps?” The sarcasm in her voice is palpable and Sweet Pea laughs as he trades his dress shirt for something that felt a little bit more like him.

The siblings are in and out of their house in record time and Ruthie lets Sweet Pea drive her car the short distance to the Fogarty’s while she sits in the passenger’s seat, clutching onto the crockpot for dear life. There’s already a dull roar emanating from the backyard; someone was bringing a big setup of speakers and Queen had been crafting the perfect playlist for weeks. No one bothers to knock on the front door because it’s never locked any ways. Ruthie immediately gets pulled into the kitchen by Atzi, who thrusts an apron at her before she continued her mission to make more counter space.

“Go find your friends,” Ruthie calls over her shoulder to her brother. “Just remember that you owe me pictures!”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember…” Sweet Pea rolls his eyes and goes to sample one of the hors d’oeuvres but Atzi smacks his hand away with her trusty spatula.

The party continues and more kids show up, all connected to Fangs, Queenie, or Sweet Pea in some way or another. It’s loud and it’s rowdy in the way that parties at the Fogarty house always seemed to get. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and dancing, but the general sentiment among everyone was that they missed Dante’s presence among the family and that they all wished that he’d been able to stop by. Maria and Atzi had been surprisingly tight-lipped about the whole thing and Ruthie was starting to think there might had been some kind of falling out.

Ruthie leans in close to Atzi, who was stirring a bubbling pot of sauce on the stove, seemingly in her own little world. “Did Maria and Dante have an argument or something? Is that why he didn’t show up tonight?”

Atzi glances up at Ruthie and smiles wryly, like all old women who held lots of secrets often did. “Nothing of the sorts, my girl!” She tosses the kitchen towel over her shoulder and goes back to flitting around the kitchen, stirring this and that, making sure nothing burned or bubbled over. “You’re looking a little dehydrated, hon, why don’t you go out into the garage and get yourself something to drink?”

Ruthie doesn’t know if it’s a trick of the eye or if Atzi winked at her. She tries not to take offense to the comment, having thickened her skin after years of “helpful” comments from the people around her. Ruthie was just happy to be relieved of kitchen duty for a little while. Wiping her hands on a towel, Ruthie makes her way into the Fogarty’s garage and to the outside refrigerator to grab herself a soda. She paws through the bottles and cans on the shelves trying to find something but she doesn’t hear the side door open, nor does she hear the familiar footfalls as they approach her.

Ruthie turns around and is startled when she find herself face to face with none other than Dante Fogarty. “Oh!” Ruthie exclaims, her soda can slipping from her hands and rolling out of sight. “Oh, I thought you weren’t coming!” She starts toward Dante and flings her arms around his neck to bring him in for a hug that was long overdue.

“I wouldn’t miss this” Dante says, rubbing his large hand over his best friend’s back. “I’m his graduation present, you know?”

“Your ass had better come with a gift receipt then” Ruthie laughs and gives Dante a playful shove before laughing into an animated rant about how mad she was at him for making her sit through that boring-ass, long-ass graduation ceremony by herself. The two of them want to kill a few minutes talking. Hell, Dante and Ruthie would hide in the garage for the whole party if they could. It wouldn’t be the first time. Dante fills Ruthie in on how everything is going in Centerville. She asks follow up questions about CD and Spyder, laughs as Dante marvels about how good the food from their cousins’s food truck is. Ruthie tells Dante about her new promotion to shift leader at the Elderly Services Department of Riverdale General Hospital. Dante talks at length about his girlfriend Valentina, smiling in a way that Ruthie thought looked good on him. But no matter how much they talked about the present (or the future), it was hard not to be nostalgic for the past, especially tonight.

“Man, your ass was miserable at your graduation party” Dante chuckled, glancing over at Ruthie. He leans against Maria’s old boat of a car that was forever in the garage atop cement blocks. “I’m pretty sure you stood outside and smoked a whole pack of cigarettes until Romeo forced you to come and socialize with everyone”

“Yeah cause it was my graduation party, it was Angel’s and I was just tacked on” Ruthie finds a beer in the refrigerator and uncaps it, her lost soda can long forgotten.

Dante thinks back to the moment before he agrees. “You might be right” He thinks about it some more, remembering the debacle. “You’re onto something there, Ruth.”

When the two of them decide that they had hidden away for long enough, Ruthie sneaks a cigarette to buy just a minute more before dragging Dante inside and into the kitchen. “Hey look who I found!” She calls out loudly, trying to get people’s attention over the music and the conversation. The Abuelas, no longer having to be tight-lipped about Dante’s secret arrival, grabbed his face and kissed his cheeks, giving him spoon and forkfuls of almost-done food that needed tasting. Fangs hears the commotion from outside where he, Sweet Pea, Queenie, and Mabel had all teamed up for beer pong so he opens the screen door, poking his head inside.

“Dante, you made it!” Fangs exclaims happily as he sees his older brother sampling the appetizers that Maria made. He rushes into the kitchen to give Dante a hug and giving him a brotherly slap on the back.

“Aw c’mon, you know I’d never miss something like this!” Dante slings his arm around Fangs’s shoulder and walks back towards the backyard “Now who’s up on the BP table, I want next game!”

~~~

The party persists most of the evening. The Beer Pong tournament ends up being a big debacle, with family and friends gathering around to watch it all unfold. Dante and Fangs played against Ruthie and Sweet Pea. They win the game but Sweet Pea swears that they cheated so he insists on a rematch, only to lose once again. Ruthie and Dante play against Sweet Pea and Fangs and they win again, so by that time everyone’s teasing Sweet Pea about his bad aim. Everyone poses for pictures way longer than they actually wanted to. There was pictures of the graduates, of them and their friends, pictures of the Abrejo family, the Fogarty’s, and the Soh-Peterson siblings. Maria wanted pictures of Ruthie, Sweet Pea, Dante, and Fangs, pictures of her with each of her grandchildren. By the time the cameras are put away everyone’s cheeks hurt and they’re seeing spots from the bright flash against the dark evening sky. Everyone eats twice as much food as they should have, and Maria was already promising to send people home with Tupperware dishes filled with leftovers. Queenie and Mabel sneak slices of the big bakery cake before Chimalma was ready to cut it so they spend the next twenty minutes out front sitting on the curb trying to avoid her motherly wrath. She was still on the warpath about her daughter being the “Only girl in the entire graduating class who didn’t zip up her gown like she was supposed to,” as if that were a supposed to be a bad thing.

Ruthie shakes her head, smiling to herself as she watches Sweet Pea try to shake off Maria, who was following him around the yard with another plate of food and yelling about how “You two boys need to put some meat on your bones before we send you off to college!” Sweet Pea goes to sit by the fire pit, away from Maria and her constant comments. Dante’s roasting marshmallows, eternally determined to piss off Elena by getting Daisy all hopped up on sugar after feeding her s’mores. Ruthie puffs along happily on her cigarette, a healthy distance aware from the rest of the partygoers (Sweet Pea had already come up to her once that evening, pulling a cigarette out of her mouth and grinding it into the dirt under the toe of his big boots). She watches over the party carefully, thinking about how time has passed and how everyone has grown.

“You warm enough over here?” Ruthie asks, her hand coming to rest on Sweet Pea’s shoulder as she approaches where he’s sitting by the fire pit.

He jumps a little, dropping the long wooden stick he was using to prod at the fire logs. “I’m fine” He replies with an eye roll.

Ruthie sits down heavily in one of the plastic lawn chairs than were posited throughout the yard, but loses her balance because of a wobbly, weathered leg. She laughs loudly as he recovers, her blood pumping in her ears. “You don’t have to be so grumpy about it” She teases, bumping his knee with her own.

“I’m not being grumpy!” Sweet Pea retorts, clearly still on edge from Maria’s overbearing attention and affection.

“Is it because you’re cold?” Ruthie raises an eyebrow at her not-so-little brother, already knowing his answer.

“I just graduated high school, Ruth, you don’t have to treat me like I’m some baby…” Sweet Pea shoes his head and brings his long-necked bottle of beer to his lips, taking a hearty sip.

“Oh but you’re always gonna be my little baby!” Ruthie coos with fake, overbearing sweetness and goes to ruffle Sweet Pea’s hair in the annoying yet endearing way that only older sisters seem to have mastered.

Sweet Pea’s scowl breaks into a smile and he rolls his eyes, letting his sister muss up his hair and dote on him just a little longer. He slides his arm around her shoulders and revels in her body heat and the familiar, comforting smell of her lavender shampoo.

“So what do you wanna do with your last summer before college, kid?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it, honestly.” Sweet Pea muses. “Need to find a job so I have a little bit of rent money saved up.” He always thought practically, tethered to the tangible things he needed in order to get by in life. It might have been a trait he picked up from Ruthie, actually.

“You have all summer to work” Ruthie looks over at her younger brother. “You gotta do something fun this summer, okay? Me and you, we’ll go somewhere just us.”

Sweet Pea laughs, his brows creased in both confusion and amusement. “Okay…where are we gonna go?”

“Anywhere…I mean, anywhere my car can get us. Or maybe we rent a car and go up the coast, spend a week at the beach before I send you off to the real world.”

“Sounds nice” Sweet Pea nods in agreement, staring into the fire. “What about the money though, Ruth? A trip like this sounds expensive.”

“You don’t have to worry about the money, kid.” Ruthie sighs, and for the first time in a long time she actually means that. “You deserve way more than this, okay? It’s the least I can do. Nothing’s set in stone now so just promise me you’ll think on it, okay?”

Sweet Pea nods. “I promise”

“I love you, and I’m so proud of you” Ruthie says firmly, as to make sure there was no way for Sweet Pea to slither in and discredit himself and his experiences.

The two siblings sit like that in front of the fire for a while, limbs tangled together, both too old to be twisting their bodies to accommodate for the other’s needed space. Ruthie gives Sweet Pea a rare, quick kiss on his forehead and the two siblings untangle themselves, laughing about who’s old rocket chair would break first. Things get quiet again for a little, just like the party had, bit after a few minutes Sweet Pea speaks up,

“Hey Ruth?” He hesitates, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

“Hmm?”

“Where’s my jacket?” Sweet Pea asks, wincing, already prepared for his sister’s onslaught of I-told-you-so’s.

Ruthie’s eyes blink open quickly, her facing having been turned towards the warmth of the fire that cracked and rippled with every gust of the evening wind. “In the trunk of my car” She laughs, tossing him her keys. Sweet Pea fumbles the catch because of his cold hands and walks towards the car, rubbing his hands over his arms.

“That boy’s gonna be absolutely lost without you” Dante laughs, rounding the fire pit and sitting down.

Ruthie shakes her head and disagrees. “I think he’s gonna be just fine.”

#little brother! sweet pea #sweet pea x ruthie #sweet pea x oc #riverdale sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #oc: ruthie soh peterson #oc: literally ALL of lou's are mentioned #and some of vannah's

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writing-good-vibes · 3 years

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Dante's Inferno Room - Vale (OC)

thank you to @clairjohnson and @neitherworld and @hoodoo12 (and all of the wonderful content creators) who came up with the Inferno Room AU! it's brilliant, and they very kindly invited others to create their own Inferno girl oc, so here is my very rough contribution.

extra thanks to @djarn who's wonderful picrew i used to create Vale.

warning for mention of death, drowning, sex and sex work.

Name: Vale, she doesn’t bother with her ‘human name’ anymore, what’s the point.

Age: 22 (at death).

Year/Cause of death: Sometime during the 90s (she’s a very new recruit to the Inferno Room). Drowned after falling in the river on her way home from a night out.

Favourite song to dance to: Running up that hill – Placebo (cover)

Role in the house:

Surprisingly not much of a dancer, or at least she doesn’t like to be the centre of attention, so she dances around the club, mingling with potential clients, rather than on stage (security keeps a very good eye on her in case any patrons want to get too handsy).

Vale is the girl clients go to for ‘normal girl sex’, which is surprisingly hard to come by in the Netherworld (people tend to go ham kink-wise now that they are dead, no such thing as regret in the Nether). She likes ‘normal sex’ because it makes her feel less weird about her cold, dead body.

Loves hearing about the kinky stuff everyone else gets up to (if they want to talk about it, obviously).

Is a friend to all, she doesn’t get involved with any in-house arguments, and people find her easy to talk to, so she knows all the drama but gives impartial advice.

Kinda still sad about the whole ‘being dead’ thing, but having people always around her (the other Inferno girls) makes her lowkey forget she’s even dead.

Hair/skin colour/appearance:

Skin is a sickly grey-blue, because she drowned.

Horns are green from the build up of algae on her body, like rocks near the sea with a slippery layer of seaweed/algae on them.

Has ‘freckles’ but it’s really just mildew because she is perpetually damp (and yes, BJ does make never-ending jokes at her expense).

Black hair that she keeps in 2 plaits, clients like it for the pulling factor, she likes it because it means she doesn’t have to wash her hair as much.

A lil’ chubby! Just more of her to love (or fuck, because, as she has to remind herself, none of her clients love her).

Relationship with BJ:

Accidently got attached and caught feelings for him (which she will never admit out loud, she’d rather die all over again) because he was her first client at Dante’s and, honestly, she hadn’t had sex with that many people when she was alive.

Movie!BJ wanted to ‘test out the new model’ when she arrived. As much as he likes being a dom (and he was fully expecting to be a dom, to really ‘welcome’ her to the Netherworld), he was intrigued about how normal she was in bed. Secretly is into it because sometimes simple is better. Doesn’t go with her often though, but will talk to her if he see’s her around in the club, she gets all flustered afterwards (because of the crush she definitely doesn’t have).

Musical!BJ likes to play that they have a real relationship while with her. Jokes around with her and likes the façade of them having normal sex (secretly makes him feel less weird about his demon body). Pretty good friends outside of the bedroom, though she gets lonely when he doesn’t pick her (she thinks its because she’s not interesting enough and he’s having wilder, sexier times with one of the other girls).

Clothing style:

Wears a longish flowing, almost sheer, white dress that fits with her whole ‘drowning victim’ look.

Bare feet.

Has a spiked choker because that was what she was vibing with before she died and she didn’t want to totally start over, even if she is dead.

When she isn’t working, she just wears pyjamas and hangs out with the other girls in their communal living space.

Backstory: It was the 90s, night clubs were all the rage and Vale went out pretty much 7 nights a week. Unfortunately, she also has no sense of danger, so often went home on her own. One fateful night she walked home by the river and tripped, unable to catch herself in her tipsy state, she fell into the water and drowned. Her body wasn't found for months. When she got to the Netherworld, she kind of just wandered around looking for something to do. She didn’t have much direction in life (hence her consistent clubbing), maybe she could find her calling here, she only had the rest of eternity to find her vocation.

Likes:

Gentle sex

Warm blankets (blankets are abundant in her room, even though no one in the Netherworld can ever get warm).

Her drink of choice is beer (even if Netherworld beer is shit).

There’s a very specific genre of horror movies in the Nether that Vale is a sucker for (e.g. very domestic settings that have an uncanny valley, ‘clearly no ex-humans were on the production team’ vibe to them).

Dislikes:

Clients who want something she isn’t willing to give (after BJ she decided the rest of her clients had to want it vanilla or they could go elsewhere. BJ is the only guy she’ll let get a bit kinky, because of the crush she definitely doesn’t have on him)

Baths (she will have showers, but baths make her phantom feeling of being waterlogged feeling to intense).

Being alone.

Exceptionally sad music (it may be her look, and her signature song, but she loves when a heavy rock comes on in the bar that she can really vibe to).

(picrew credit: @mieczyk)

#beetlejuice #inferno oc #infernooc #dante's inferno room #beetlejuice x oc #beetlejuice musical #original character profile #beetlejuice 1988 #edited to add hoodoo because i shamefully didnt tag them when i first posted but i am onsessed with their fics #tw sex #tw death

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solartranslations · 3 years

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AF2 Debito Chapter 1 (12/6): Amore and Amuleto (TN: Love and Amulet)

Luca’s birthday party isn’t over yet. There’s still tons of limone pie on the table…

~*Scene: Dining Room*~

Pace: Hey, do you think we could add something to this limone pie to make something completely new?

Luca: That’s not necessary. Just eat it as is

Debito: Hey, could you make just the pie shell into a snack?

Luca: You can make that yourself!

Pace: Oh! You should make a limone-lasagna pie next time!

Debito: Hey, Luca…we’re out of sparkling water. How can we have dolce with no drinks?

Luca: What is going on with you two!? Shouldn’t you show me some appreciation for today at least!!

Debito: Showing up for you should be enough appreciation

Pace: Yeah~

Felicita: *sigh*, you three sure are lively…

Felicita: Let’s get some air, Fukurota

Fukurota: Hoot

Felicita: Birthdays really are fun

Felicita: Oh, that reminds me…

~*Flashback: Swords Waiting Room*~

Felicita: [On September 9th, I was excited enough for everyone in the Swords to notice]

Felicita: [The reason was because Debito’s birthday was the next day—]

Felicita: (I’ve been thinking about what to get him since I heard from the Maid Triad that he gets lots of presents as the Capo of the Coins)

Felicita: (I thought about it a lot and eventually settled on this plain looking accessory, but maybe the way I give it to him can make up for it)

(*serious) Felicita: (I can’t always rely on Debito making the grand gestures. I have to do something too)

~*Flashback: Dining Room*~

Felicita: Huh? What do you mean?

Debito: Well, a royal from somewhere is going to visit Regalo in secret tomorrow and the Coins are going to escort them

Debito: So sadly, I’ll have to go on a date with you some other time

Felicita: But, if it’s at night…

Debito: Night is when we really start getting serious. You get it right, Miss Executive of the Swords?

Felicita: …But, tomorrow’s special, right?

Debito: Tomorrow…?

Debito: Oh right… It’s just normal for me, but it is a special day for “us”, right?

Felicita: Yeah. Because it’s the first time that I’ll be celebrating your birthday

Debito: If it’s a problem, then tell the professional diplomats at Intelligence

>Even if I do, your schedule won’t change

(+20 Amore)

>…But I wanted to make tomorrow special

(+10 Amore)

Debito: Well if you beg Dante with that face, I’m sure the old man would cave in

Felicita: Really?

Debito: You do have the face of a seductive maiden after all. He’ll probably give me some extra days off afterwards at least

Debito: Then spend it as “normally” as you want

Felicita: Huh!?

Debito: A day is only special because you want it to feel that way. So save that “special” feeling for later

Felicita: …

Debito: Hm? You still look unhappy

Felicita: Of course I am

Felicita: Fine. I’ll give up on tomorrow

Felicita: But in exchange, the rest of your year is mine

Debito: Haha…that’s quite the bold request

Debito: You really know what I like

(*smile) Felicita: Was I right?

~*Flashback: Coins Waiting Room*~

(*reach) Felicita: Here’s your present

Debito: Hey, don’t I get a kiss first?

Felicita: No, presents!

Debito: So you wanted my time for yourself, but you didn’t give it anymore thought, did you?

Felicita: Well, I had so much planned for tomorrow…

Debito: That’s fine coming from you though. –But, what is this?

Felicita: It’s a “corno” charm. Protective charms are more effective when received as gifts…or that’s what I heard

Debito: Hm… Seeing these horns always just made me think of demons though

Felicita: Well, now they’ll make you think of my gift to you

Debito: …

Debito: Huh…you’re right. Now what I’ll think of will be this “corno”…

Felicita: I really wanted to give you something I made myself though

Debito: If you thought of me while picking it out, then it’s the best gift I could get

Felicita: Really?

Debito: I managed to make your time mine. So it’s the same as my time being yours

Felicita: Well, this is for you, but that’s not all

Debito: What do you mean?

Felicita: Well…it’s for me too. Because if you’re happy, then it makes me happy too

Felicita: Um…did I say that right?

Debito: …So you wish for my happiness so that you’ll be happy…

Debito: …Bambina

Felicita: Ah…

Debito: …*kiss*, Fel

Debito: …I can taste your lips now, right?

Felicita: …Kissing me before asking isn’t fair

Debito: Well it’s because you were asking me to

Felicita: …I don’t remember doing that

Debito: I’ll happily accept your present, okay?

Felicita: Okay…

Felicita: Happy birthday, Debito—

~*End Flashback*~

~*Scene: Dining Room*~

Felicita: …*sigh*…

Debito: What’s wrong, Felicita?

(*ba-dump) Felicita: Huh, oh…um, I was just thinking back to your birthday, Debito

Debito: Ah, we sure made a lot that day. Royalty sure do hand out money like it’s nothing

Felicita: That’s good

Debito: Haha…that’s not what your face is saying though

Debito: It’s good that you’re thinking about happy things, but having some regrets isn’t so bad either

Felicita: That makes no sense

Debito: But you like that about me, right Bambina?

>So mean…

(No Amore)

>…!

(+10 Amore)

Felicita: …

Debito: I gave you an answer, so how is that mean?

Felicita: I’ll make sure not to have any regrets next year

Debito: I’m looking forward to it

Felicita: …!

Debito: Nothing to say? Well, I’ll take your red cheeks as an answer then

Felicita: S-seriously

Debito: You still have that habit of talking with your face instead of actually talking…

Felicita: Enough about me

Felicita: What do you remember the most about your past birthdays?

Debito: Ah…nothing much. They’re nothing compared to how Papa celebrates your birthday

Felicita: Let’s forget about Papa. Oh right, Caterina-san would have celebrated your birthday when you were young, right?

Debito: Yeah, that idiot would make some dumb lasagna cake

Felicita: Huh? Is that a sweet cake!? Or a lasagna?

Debito: Obviously, it was just a huge lasagna on the inside. Being boring must be hereditary. But it was better than something sweet

Felicita: Haha. You don’t like sweets after all. Anything else?

Debito: I just remember not being able to finish it. Besides that…

Debito: ……

Felicita: Debito?

Debito: …Oh right

Debito: These days the Coins’ll throw some huge party they don’t need to…

Debito: And the girls from town would come to the casino with presents—

Felicita: Ugh…

Debito: Luca-chan was always popular with Signorinas in Regalo too

Debito: Well, he’s a failure as a Regalo man since they’re only ever friends though

Felicita: That can’t be all there is. Being liked by a lot of people just goes to show how good of a person Luca is

Debito: You sure are observant as his long-time master

Debito: I can be jealous about that, right?

Felicita: I can’t imagine you being jealous with how carefree you always are

Felicita: You’re just saying that because you want to see how I react

Debito: Hm…am I? Anyway, back to our guest of honor

Felicita: Yeah

Felicita: …But if Debito really was jealous…

Felicita: …It might make me happy

Debito: Bambina…I can hear you

(*ba-dump) Felicita: Wha!!

~*End of Scene*~

Special Voice obtained. It can be heard in the Profile section

(Continue to Common Event Lesson 2)

(Back to Directory)

#debito #arcana famiglia #arcana famiglia 2 #chapter 1 #solar translations #psp game #translation #releases #yup fel's lines damn

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kokorowoutsu-a · 2 years

Text

She’s drinking on a glass of iced water with blankets wrapped around her this autumn day. Dressed in warm clothing and walking with Lucky, she has a tired look in her eyes, a light sniffling coming from her too. She had been looking at her phone, checking social media and all that, when she had come across something she did not want to see, and, well, that had sent her out walking about to try and clear her head... until she came upon Dante and Lucifer sitting near where the fire-types gathered.

Giving pause, she noted him eyeing a picture of some kind. Carefully she picked her way forward and with that, he looked up and over at her, a smile lighting his dim features that had once been there. “Somethin’ I can do for ya, Prince-- Oi.” Noting her tearful expression, his eyes narrowed. “Have you been crying? Did you get hurt or--” “I’m alright.” She climbed up onto some of the rocks, taking a seat beside him and Lucky settling on her lap. “Can you tell me about the girl in the picture instead?”

She had beautiful silvery white hair and blue-green eyes, one that had a eye patch covering one, and with her was a Glaceon to match her very blue and icy water aesthetic. “Ah... uh, well...” Dante turned his attention to the picture, holding it up for her to see. “That’s my girl. Her name’s Savannah, or Savvy as I call her.” However, a sad smile was there on his features soon enough. “... I’m sorry.” Ashe sighed. “No reason to be. She... she’s free now, and that’s all that matters to me, y’know?” There was definitely more to the story, but that didn’t matter to Ashe.

Reaching over to lay a hand to his head, Ashe gently petted there and soon was pulling him down to touch her forehead to her own, “What a--” “-- Shh.” A sense of calmness overtook his emotional state that had been threatening to bubble up there over the loss of his soulmate. Once he was feeling alright, she pulled back and offered a smile, if not a painful one. “She’s watching over you, and she wouldn’t want ya to be sad... so go out and be happy, y’know? If ya wanna stay on as my bodyguard, do it on yer own terms. Not my mom’s. Anyway, sorry for disturbin’ ya.” With that, she got up and was heading down the rocks carefully, leaving Dante in her wake who was a bit shocked by it all.

Feeling Lucifer’s nudge, he looked down to see the Houndoom eyeing him suspiciously. “... She deserves good things, that one.” Dante looked to the picture once more, his free hand petting his Houndoom’s head. “She reminds me a lot of you, Savvy. If your spirit is here... watch after her, yeah? I’ll do my part too, don’t worry.” With that, he looked to where Ashe and Lucky had disappeared, a soft look in his eyes.

#i spy with the eyes of a luxray ;; dash commentary #ashe ;; ic

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solynaceawrites · 4 years

Text

IDLE HANDS

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, fem!Reader Rating: Explicit A/N: This is my first foray in writing reader inserts in a long time, and it was fun to come back to this style! I want to give a huge thank you to @maybeishouldwait for encouraging me and helping me finish this one-shot, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You’re not quite sure how you’ve wound up here. Logically, of course, there’s a chain of events you can follow that starts with answering an advert in a newspaper to being at your physical location—the Devil May Cry, housed in a historic heritage building—but how that had led to your current predicament of having your boss’ hands fumbling with your skirt while your own try to untangle the layers of leather separating his skin from yours you couldn’t say. Not that you’re complaining; Dante Sparda is, perhaps, the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, and the greedy way he nips and tugs at your neck lets you know you’re in for a really good lay. If someone had ever told you that taking a job as a secretary-maid-bookkeeper for a handy-man shop would lead to this, you’d have laughed them off as reading too many raunchy paperbacks.

Or watching too many cheesy pornos.

Dante lifts his head, his piercing blue gaze like a physical touch on your face. There’s frustration within it, and his voice, but he’s grinning as he gripes, “Yer clothes are way too complicated, darlin’.”

You don’t think they are. Nothing you’re wearing is out of your usual limits: a simple button-down blouse, a black A-line skirt, tights, pumps with little kitten heels. Laughing softly, you reach to cover his hands with yours, guiding them to your hip, where a hidden zipper rests. “You just have to know where to look.”

“Uh-huh.” He tugs it down, and you shimmy the fabric over your thighs and kick it to the side. “Maybe I’ll make a new rule about ya workin’ here.”

“Oh?” Deciding to take mercy on him, you’re already halfway through the buttons of your shirt, and you pause to tilt your head, studying him curiously.

“No clothes.”

You roll your eyes with a smile. “I can’t work naked, Dante.”

“Sure you could.”

“If you want every potential customer who comes through to see my ass.”

He considers that, and you watch the gears churning behind his narrowed eyes and smother another chuckle, letting your shirt join the pile on the floor. “No underwear,” he counters, after a moment.

“Or,” you argue playfully, “you could learn to be patient. Besides, when you’re wearing something like that,” and you nod to the coat and chaps and spurs that you’ve spent twenty minutes fighting with, “you don’t get to say my clothes are complicated.”

“Fair enough,” he muses.

To your surprise and dismay, he steps back, but your protest dies when he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders. You watch with a dry mouth as he unfastens the holsters and drops them—Ebony and Ivory still sitting on the desk is probably the only reason he’s so callous about it—before doing the same with his vest. Each layer of clothing he peels away only sends your already heightened senses into overdrive; it feels scandalous, somehow, seeing the broad expanse of his chest with the dusting of silver hair, or the trim line of his waist, probably because you’ve never seen him in anything less than sans coat. Dante pauses to gauge your reaction as he unhooks the chaps from his belt, and you nod to let him know you’re still onboard with where this is going. The way he smiles then is bright and soft enough to soothe the worst part of your nerves, and you giggle when he hops from foot to foot while trying to take off his chaps, boots, and spurs in one go.

He straightens with a grin and his hands on his hips. “There,” he proclaims. “Better?”

“Much,” you agree. Then it’s a race to see who can get the rest of their clothes off first, and the only reason he wins, you think, is because he’s got less to worry about, particularly as he’s going commando, a fact that makes your mouth water. You do your best not to get distracted as you let your bra, panties, and tights add to the ever-growing pile of discarded clothing, but, Jesus Christ, his thighs are like tree trunks and the cock dangling between them is the largest you’ve ever seen. Is that even going to fit?

Dante moves closer, caging you between his bulk and the wall, and you let out a little gasp when his hands cup your chest. Then his mouth is on yours, and you part your lips for him as he kisses you greedily, drinking from your mouth like a man dying of thirst. Your fingers twist through his hair while his own squeeze your flesh, thumbs rolling over your nipples until they’re hard and you’re arching against him, craving more; he grunts when you give a particularly harsh tug to his locks before releasing your breasts to grab your waist. You lock your legs around his hips as he carries you to his desk, and you wince when he swipes his arm to clear a spot to set you down, sending a day old box of pizza and a magazine to the ground. “You sure about this?” he asks against your throat.

You swallow thickly, fighting through your nerves. Sleeping with your boss is probably not the best idea you’ve ever had, but there’s an air of reverence to Dante when it comes to you that makes you feel safe. “Yeah.”

“Good.” His mouth trails over your neck, pausing to lavish the skin of your collar until a mark blooms there, and the scratch of his stubble against your sensitive skin has you panting already. Dante gives each of your breasts a kiss before continuing down until he’s kneeling between your legs, and your thought of scolding him disappears with the first press of his lips to the top of your mound.

If there’s one talent you always suspected Dante had, it was oral. You’d never had a basis for this suspicion, other than the fact that he was always mouthing off to, well, everyone, but the moment he parts your folds with his thumbs to kiss your weeping sex, you know that you were right. He is relentless, alternating between tracing patterns over your clit with the tip of his tongue and moving lower to thrust it within you, and the groan he lets out as he tastes your body sends a blush from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes.

Reaching for his hair, you hold on tight as he works. It's been five years since you've had a mouth between your legs, too fixated on your boss to even try dating, but this is an entirely different level. He practically drinks from your body, humming against you encouragingly as you start to grind against him. Dante fixates where you guide him, and in the last thought before he sends you over the edge, you wonder if you've ever came so fast.

You pant as he eases up, slowly licking along your labia as he gently releases his grip on your thighs. Sagging on the desk, you press the back of your hand on your forehead and try to gain control of your racing heart. "You ready now, babe?" he asks.

"Ready for what?"

He grins at you, the expression equal parts eager and predatory and making your toes curl. "For me to fuck ya, obviously."

You blink, then let out a laugh as you wrap your still trembling legs around his waist. "I'd be upset if you didn't."

Dante nods, bracing one hand next to your head as the other works between your bodies; from how his knuckles graze your folds, you assume that he's stroking himself, and butterflies set to swirling in your stomach. Part of it is that he's your boss, sure, but the rest is the pre-sex jitters you always get with a new partner: will they enjoy it, will you enjoy it, is there going to be awkwardness between the two of you after or will the relationship continue on as it was? You reach up to drape an arm over his broad shoulders and pull him closer, pressing your lips to his cheek.

He turns his face to find your lips, brushing against them as you feel him press against your opening. Your mouth opens in a gasp as the head pushes inside. He is thick and hard as a rock, and as he works to fill you up it just keeps going. Your limbs shake as Dante pumps his hips slowly, the arm around him tensing as you dig your fingers into his shoulder

His cock hits a spot inside of you that sends a shock of pleasure through your body. As you throw your head back, his mouth moves to your neck, grazing your pulse. But he doesn't stop, just teases you with teeth and tongue as he stretches your body.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, it's just . . ." Your voice melts into a moan as he thrusts his hips and smacks against the back of your thighs.

"Okay," Dante pants, his mouth moving lower as he waits for you to adjust.

You're half-convinced that you're going to come the second he moves. You've never felt so full in your life, and every inch of him rubs snugly against your walls in a way that has your head spinning, and he hasn't even really gotten started yet. "Holy fuck," you whisper, staring over his shoulder at the ceiling. What have I gotten myself into?

"Mm," he groans, in agreement you think. "Remind me, why didn't we do this sooner?"

"You weren't wearing chaps," you mumble.

Dante laughs as he kisses the inside curve of your breast. "I'm wearing them every day, then."

He plants his palms face down on the desk and starts to pump his hips in a quick, shallow rhythm. It keeps his cock deep inside you, and for the next several minutes, the only sound is his panting and your quick, needy cries. Your fingers trace his chest and his arms until you can feel the next orgasm building. Dante thrusts hard into you, grinding his hips, and the friction of his body against your clit has you groaning his name.

He curses when you put your hands over your head, weak from the pleasure. "Fuck, fuck, you look so hot like this," he gasps, and that gives you an idea.

Keeping one hand curled over the edge of the desk, you quickly snake the other down to brush your fingers over your clit. He pauses, his eyes narrowed as he watches you draw little circles over the bud, and you wonder if you've somehow made a mistake before he growls. Dante grabs your thighs, pressing them up towards your chest, and the first thrust of his hips at this new angle draws a cry from your throat. "That's it," he rumbles. "You gonna come for me, darlin'?"

"Yes . . ." you moan. "Watch me."

His brows draw together as you do your best to put on a little show: it's difficult with his cock driving in and out of your body to stay focused on him, but as you start to stroke your clit with one hand and tease a nipple with the other, you can tell it's working because Dante gives a low groan. "Shit, come for me, I can't hold on . . ."

You close your eyes; it's a pity to lose the sight of his pleasure-screwed expression, but now you can focus on the press of his body and your own playful touch. Because you can't see him, you jolt when he mouths at your breast, panting hotly against your skin. Then he seals his lips around your nipple, sucking it with quick, sharp tugs, and your voice locks in your throat as your orgasm crashes over you.

Dante hisses your name through the haze of bliss. Moments later you feel him come, thick gushes of seed filling you as your release rocks through your body. You swear you can feel every pulse, almost as if his cock is rippling inside you. Your head is spinning from the intensity, but he doesn't stop. You reach up to grab his hair, shoulder, something . . . and gasp when his skin feels like heated metal and his fingers on your thighs go momentarily sharp, digging into you like claws.

It only lasts for a second, and his skin is soft and smooth and covered with stubble when you brush your fingers over his cheek. His hips slowly still, his lips whispering along her shoulder, until the two of you are simply locked together with his body a comfortable cage around your own. The way he nuzzles you is soothing and, on the heels of such an intense orgasm, makes you more than a little sleepy. But the question of what just happened pricks at you.

"Dante?"

"Hm?"

"Did you . . . transform? Just now?"

He clears his throat, a noise you know means he's flustered. "Almost." You nudge him with your knee to prompt him, and he groans and presses his face to your neck. "Part of being half-devil. Sometimes, if I get too wound up, I'll, uh . . . trigger."

"Oh." You consider that. "Okay."

"Does it scare you?"

If you weren't riding a post-coital high, the words you say next would have never left your mouth. "No. It's pretty hot, actually."

"Oh yeah?" His mouth captures yours for a slow, sloppy kiss, and when he pulls away he slides his cock out of you, leaving you sensitive as you stretch on the desk. "You ready for round two yet?" Dante grins.

You make a show of thinking, leaving your arms above your head and rubbing your thighs together, and you don't miss how his eyes darken as his gaze zeroes in on your chest. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"Me?!" Dante shouts, and you laugh as he lifts you and swings you over his shoulder. He carries you easily up the steps, giving your backside a smack as he teases, "Let's see who outlasts who."

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #dante/reader #dante x reader #dmc dante #smut #reader insert #writing #oneshot #idle hands

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dongiovannaswife · 3 years

Text

little one

this is a small follow up to Ari’s ( @softlimefluff ) fic —Ellie’s finally here!! :D

cw: pregnancy related. other than that, nothing else.

9:00 PM, Morioh. May 7.

The door opens and Giorno peeks an eye open from the couch, where he’s sitting. The twins are deep asleep on the small cribs brought there by the Foundation —from his spot, and even on his sleepy daze, he gets to see his wife walk into the room, untying her ponytail and letting her curls run down until they land on her waist, framing her shoulders and face when she leans on the couch before her, sighing with a hand over her face.

“Doll.” He murmurs in both a greeting and a call. Standing up, he steps out of the boys’ zone before walking up to her. Reaching a hand out first, he puts her hand back, kissing the back of it and mumbling against the skin of the zone he just kissed. “How did it go? Rohan was almost crying out of happiness —I barely understood your message though his excitement.”

Passing her arms around his waist and leaning her head on his chest, Lena hums, mumbling her answer from her spot. “Ellie is finally here, Gio.” And looking up, he finally gets a glimpse of her eyes; watered, tired but happy at the same time. “It’s a beautiful girl, baby. Her full name,” she blinks back tears, making her eyes focus on the ceiling in an attempt to trick her eyes into ‘forgetting they were crying’ “It’s Eliana,” a single tear runs down her cheek and Giorno’s heart skips a beat but… Shatters at once.

“Lena?” he asks, but she keeps going, grinning now.

“Eliana Reimi Kishibe.” She sobs quietly, burying her face into Giorno’s chest. A surprised Giorno can only hold her close, cradling her head into his chest in the perfect way for her to hear his heartbeat and breathing; to allow a way for her to sync her breathing with his.

Gathering his voice back up, Giorno mumbles. “How does that make you feel, honey?”

The way she rests her head on his chest seems relaxed, all her body says that, but even then, he can’t help but think of something different.

But when Lena looks back at him, all soft and happy, all he can do is melt, letting a smile take over.

“I’m so happy for them —I never expected them to name their baby like… her.”

He nods, “Yeah, it definitely surprised me too. Do you think I can go and meet her? See how’s Ariel doing?”

Lena shakes her head, breaking the hug to step into the bathroom to freshen up despite the need to sleep.

Leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, Giorno takes note of the way she brushes her hair using only her wet fingers —starting from the ends with care. “No, baby. I don’t think you should: you can, of course, but Ari must be exhausted and Ellie too. It’s a big process for both parts, you know.”

Giorno hums, stepping into the bathroom and getting behind her, he reaches out once she’s done unknotting her hair, pulling it into a soft bun. “Mhm. Tomorrow, then.”

Lena nods, looking at her husband through the mirror. His expression while he secures the bun so it doesn’t fall off and doesn’t mess up with her hair one to behold, “How are the boys? Were they fussy?”

“Just a bit,” turning her around, Giorno soon leans his hands on the sink, leaning close so they can talk without having to lower their voices too much. “They did ask for you all day, but understood when I said you were working on something.”

She nods, looking back at where the boys are asleep. Taking Giorno’s arm, she silently guides him out the bathroom, walking up to the sleeping twins.

Sitting by them, she leans in, kissing their foreheads and laughing a bit when both sigh right after the contact, settling in.

“Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head, “Just tired.”

Giorno smiles, walking into the kitchen without a word. Coming back, he hides something behind his back with a grin. “I knew you’d say that so,” he shows her the bottle; its orange content something she recognizes immediately. “Carrot juice for my queen.”

Upon Lena’s giggle, he sits down, giving her the bottle. “I’ll take the boys to the room while you drink that, okay? I’d hate to see you sick so,” he leans in for a short peck before standing up. “Enjoy your drink.”

She nods, opening the bottle and watching through sips how Giorno moves the boys into the room.

Giorno’s thoughts are filled with wonder —Rohan had told them, in detail, how it was like to grow up with Reimi; he already knew something from Jotaro, but hearing the version from the person who was close with her had more impact.

Now, to hear that same boy had grown up, got married and named his daughter after the person who saved him, it definitely sparked something on his chest —it tugged his heartstrings to the point of admiration. Not like he didn’t respect and admire Rohan and Ariel before, but now, something felt… different. Inspiring, even.

Setting Jovi on his crib and making sure he’s warm and safe, he comes to the conclusion that he can’t wait to meet little Eliana.

Coming back into the living room, he’s met with the image of his wife lying down on the couch with Ares under her arm and the bottle of juice properly closed and on the table —almost immediately, he thinks back to the time she fell asleep on his shoulder when they were still dating: the way he blushed and got flustered over the sight of his girlfriend asleep by his side, a sight he got lucky to see every day.

“Lena,” he calls, kneeling by her side. Ares’ blue eyes give him a short look before he’s dozing off again.

“Lena, doll.” He calls again, slipping a hand to her cheekbone, where he takes the time to trace it and feel her warmth. “Let’s take you to bed, yes? And change you, you’re still in your uniform.”

“Así estoy bien, gracias.” I’m okay like this, thank you.

How he wanted to laugh like a maniac —that was not the answer he was expecting. It was worth a reminder later.

“Eh, no, tesoro. You need comfy clothes for bed, okay? And the bed is way comfier than the couch.” Slipping his hands under her, he scoops her up bridal style, carrying her to their bedroom with only her low mumble of something he could translate to ‘you win.’

Next morning, 8:35 AM.

Giorno’s hands are filled with presents as he walks into Ari’s room, with Westwood holding the door open and Mista helping with Dante; Lena, by the end of them, comes in with Jovi in her arms.

“Good morning, Han, Ari.” The Donna greets them, sitting down with a tired sigh. “How are you, Ari?”

“’M good,” she mumbles, trying to blink the sleep away —eyes glued to the baby in Rohan’s arms.

“I…” Giorno speaks up for the first time, setting down a smaller box on top of the multiple bigger ones. “Got a little excited and brought some things.”

“Thank you, Gio. You didn’t have to.” Rohan speaks this time, looking up from Ellie’s face to Giorno’s —the soft look in his eyes says it all when he stands, walking up to Giorno. “I want you to meet someone, Ellie.” He whispers, looking back at his daughter; even when his eyes are bloodshot and the bags under them stand out more than anything, his expression does say he’s the happiest man in the world.

“Gio,” he comes to a stop before the Don, leaning a bit so the taller man can see. “This is Ellie.”

Giorno’s smile is there before he knows it —a warm feeling spreads through his chest and being, bringing with it the need to protect and watch over her while she grows up. Extending a hand out, he slips his finger into Eliana’s hand, chuckling when she grabs at his finger, smacking her lips a few times before settling in.

“Rohan, Ariel.” Giorno calls, looking between them. “I’m her uncle now, right?”

Ariel grins, chuckling a little. Finally awake, she watches from her bed the exchange. “Yes, you are.”

“What kind of question is that, Giovanna?” Rohan teases, unable to look up from the baby in his arms.

“He’s having a moment, guys.” Lena joins in the teasing, hiding her grin when she kisses Jovi’s head.

“I mean,” Giorno finally recovers, unable to hide his happiness. “…Nevermind, I don’t know why I asked that.”

Rohan chuckles, shaking his head. Ellie moves a little upon the loss of contact with Giorno, but as soon as Rohan goes back to Ari, letting her carry Ellie, the little one settles back in, comforted by her mother’s warmth.

“Dada?” Jovi suddenly asks, pointing at Ellie and Ariel, big eyes and mouth in a perfect ‘o’.

“Auntie Ariel, buddy. And the little one is Ellie.”

Jovi nods, closing his eyes, “Niiiice.”

Giorno laughs, nodding —Dante extends his arms out to him, asking to be held.

“Woah, buddy.” Mista chuckles, letting Dante go with his dad.

Petting Dante’s head, Giorno hums in Ellie’s direction, making the boy look at her immediately. “See, buddy? Ellie’s here. Say hi to her.”

The boy nods, grinning when he looks back at Ariel and Ellie, raising his voice in excitement. “Hi, hi! E—Edlie! Awii!”

Giorno nods, chuckling and letting the boy greet everyone in the room.

Despite Dante’s voice, Giorno still looks back at Ariel and Rohan, smiling warmly at them. “Congratulations, guys.” And last, he steals a look at his wife. Almost like he’s thinking of something before he looks back in time to see the couple smile and bow their heads.

#AriHan #ellie kishibe!!!#GioLena #edit: reminder; do not post without proofreading. >:c #i hope everything is fixed now ;w; sorry for the horrible mistakes ;w; i am Ashamed

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prolestariwrites · 3 years

Photo

The Wish [3]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V, Lady, Eva, Sparda, OC Rating: General Tags: Family, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Typical demon hunting violence

Summary: A demon gives Dante the chance to have his greatest desires made real. When he finds himself in a seemingly idyllic life, all seems well until it starts to unravel. Will he sacrifice himself to save the family he lost, or will he choose to give them up for the truth?

Now posted: Chapter 3, in which Dante comes face to face with his past, and a weirder version of his present, over some chicken parmesan.

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Chapter 3: Family Dinner

The entire ride to the restaurant, Dante spends his time half-listening to Lir talk about her day and half looking at everything. They are in Red Grave City, but it’s different: cleaner somehow, less polluted, less scummy. They pass a few familiar landmarks on their way through downtown from where their house is in the more residential part of the city, and at one point go by a turnoff that will take them to the shop. Dante perks up a bit but she makes a left instead of a right, and he presses his lips together, wondering if he should ask her to turn around. But he decides against it in the end; the city looks strange enough as it is, and if they roll up to the Devil May Cry and it’s a hair salon or something he just might lose it.

Dante is nervous as hell when Lir pulls their car into the parking lot of the Italian restaurant. She breathes a sigh of relief as she turns off the engine and unbuckles her seat belt. “Five twenty-five,” she says with a grin. “Now we don’t have to listen to Vergil complain about us being late.”

He only nods as they climb out of the car, and he quickly scoots around so he can shut her door for her. Lir gives him a thanks before taking his hand, heat crawling up his neck as they head into the restaurant.

“Sparda family,” she tells the hostess as Dante looks around. It’s a smaller kind of place but lots of atmosphere, the lighting a bit low and Frank Sinatra playing quietly on the speakers. Dante stares at the huge fish tank next to the entrance as the hostess makes a note in the guest book. “You have a table in the back. This way,” she says.

Lir’s hand is steady on his as they follow to the back of the restaurant. But it’s enough to make him go numb when sure enough, Vergil is sitting at the table, talking to Lady. Lir calls a greeting and he stands up to give her a kiss on the cheek before turning to Dante. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks, looking him up and down.

Dante realizes he probably is gaping, so to cover his shock he shakes his head. Vergil snorts and moves to sit back down, but Dante reaches out and grabs his arm. He pulls his brother into a hug, squeezing him hard, and after a moment he can practically feel the stares from everyone else around him.

Easing back, he smiles sheepishly at the very confused-looking Vergil. “Good to see you, Verge,” Dante grins, clapping him on the arm.

“Okay…”

“Lady! Looking good!”

The others look at him funny, and Lady folds her arms. “Why are you calling me that?”

Dante scratches his chin. “Ain’t that your name? Lady?”

“That’s not some lady, that’s my wife,” Vergil scoffs. He turns to Lir and asks, “Did he suffer some kind of brain damage?”

“No, he’s just joking. Badly.” Lir tugs on his sleeve and says, “Come sit. Do you want to sit next to Mary or to Vergil?”

“Mary. Right.” Dante clears his throat as she steers him to a seat, taking the one between him and Lady. Or Mary. Whoever she is.

The two women start chatting and Dante stares at Lady, noting how different she looks without the blunt haircut and the scar on her nose. She still has the heterochromia, but her dark hair is down to her shoulders, and Dante notes that she’s actually wearing normal pants and a blouse and not some too-small schoolgirl uniform or looking like a step above a stripper.

Lady shoots him a look with a wry smile. “Why are you staring? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Dante answers quickly. “Sorry. Guess I haven’t uh… seen you in a while?”

“Yeah, things have been busy.” She picks up a glass of red wine and takes a sip. “How is business going?”

Dante wonders himself, but replies, “Good. Going good.”

“Good to hear.” She turns and calls to the other end of the table, “Boys? Did you say hello to your uncle?”

He glances down, his eyes going wide. How did he not notice the two sitting at the other end? Vergil is talking to one, a boy of about ten or eleven with longish silver hair, just like he and Vergil have. It’s the spitting image of Nero, and Dante figures he has one mystery solved at least.

Another boy sits next to him, dark hair hanging in his eyes which are glued to a cell phone. Vergil says something to him and the boy looks up and makes a face. He too looks exactly like Vergil, except for the dark features, and Dante frowns. “Are those…?”

“Yeah, Nero and Vitale are getting big, hm?” Lady smiles rather affectionately down at them. “They hit eleven last month and bam, both shot up about three inches. I can barely keep them in clothes.”

“Nero,” Dante sighs with a grin. The kid turns from talking to Vergil to offer him a wave, and the other glances upwards again. “And… Vitale?”

“I go by V now,” he answers curtly before rolling his eyes and looking down at the screen.

“Don’t be rude,” Lady scolds.

Lir laughs. “Teenagers, what can you do? I can’t believe how big the twins have gotten. They are young men now.”

Dante sits back in his chair, tuning out the rest of the conversation as he stares at the two boys. So Nero is only eleven, not nineteen, and Dante makes a quick calculation. Vergil could have still met Lady—Mary—at the Temen-ni-gru, but he definitely wouldn’t have gone to Fortuna first. Does that mean he wouldn’t have had Yamato? Without the sword he had no hope of opening the portal, and Dante frowns in thought. Most likely Vergil never went to hell, which sort of makes sense if they hadn’t been orphaned. So does that mean nothing else happened either? Did the Order still exist? Did it worship his old man? Is Mallet Island still there? If Dante never had a reason to go there, does that mean Mundus is still out there somewhere?

His questions are interrupted by Lir’s hand on his arm. “You okay?” she asks.

He looks up to see the three adults staring at him. “Yeah. I was uh… trying to remember something.” Dante leans forward and nods to Vergil and Lady. “Remind me, how did you two meet?”

Lady blushes a bit but Vergil clears his throat. “I worked for Mary’s father when I was in college, before he died. Don’t you remember?”

“No,” Dante chuckles. “Not one bit.”

“Typical,” Vergil mutters, but before he can protest his parents arrive.

Just like when he looked at the photographs in their house, Eva and Sparda seem like something out of a dream. Dante stays seated as he watches the family give hugs in turn, his heart beating ridiculously fast in his chest.

Sparda has longish hair pulled back into a ponytail, and coupled with the tan linen pants and a button-down shirt with a bold flower pattern, he looks like a retiree on vacation in the Bahamas. Dante grins to himself, trying to remember if his father always had that sense of fashion, especially contrasted to his mother. Eva looks graceful and elegant, the handful of fine lines and silver streaks in her hair giving her the appearance of a matriarch. But she is unmistakable, especially since he’s been looking at her picture on his desk for two decades. When her eyes turn to him, he feels frozen by how alive she is until she reaches out a hand. “Dante, are you okay?” Eva laughs.

The laugh he recognizes instantly from deep within his memory. He’s on his feet in a moment, wrapping her into a tight hug. Her perfume is even familiar, and Dante takes a deep breath as he tries to memorize everything for when he wakes up. It’s been a really long time since he’s had a dream about her, and usually she has a sad smile, fear in her eyes, as she tells him to hide in the closet.

Eva places a kiss on his cheek that makes his eyes a bit misty. Then Sparda pats him on the arm, and unwilling to let Eva go just yet, Dante wraps it around his father in a group hug. He knows he must look ridiculous, but this is too much to take in at once, and he doesn’t let go until he is sure he can breathe.

Lir pats his thigh when he sits back down. She gives him a smile that he can’t quite interpret as the waitress arrives to take their drink orders.

The dinner is fun, more fun than Dante could remember having in a while. And that’s saying something since he and Nero went camping a few weekends ago, and the Love Planet had gotten a karaoke machine. Even the twins perk up when their grandparents arrive, especially when Sparda pulls out a wad of twenty-dollar bills. “Don’t spoil them,” Vergil groans.

“Nonsense,” Sparda says, pulling out several for each boy. “No such thing as spoiling your grandsons.”

Dante frowns as the others laugh. He doesn’t remember Sparda being like… well, this. Warm, sure, but this generous? He didn’t exactly dote on him and Vergil, leaving a lot of the child-rearing to Eva. A few memories surface, mostly listening to Sparda telling stories that were as exciting as they were scary and sneaking into his study to look at his weapons. Maybe being a grandparent is different than a parent? Or maybe Sparda is as different in this dream as everyone and everything else is.

“You’re usually much more talkative, Dante,” Eva comments.

He clears his throat but Lir leans over him a bit and says, “He wasn’t feeling well this morning. Forgot all about what day it was.”

“Are you coming down with something?” asks Eva, her face drawn in concern.

“Nah, nothing like that,” Dante answers. “I think I was having a weird dream.”

“What was it about?” Vergil asks.

Dante takes a sip of water to cover his discomfort with the question. “Everyone was dead, basically,” he says bluntly.

“Dante!” Lir exclaims as the others laugh.

“What?” he chuckles. “He asked.”

“What did we die of?” Sparda asks.

“Uh…” Dante rubs the back of his neck. “There was an attack. But not everyone was dead. La—uh, Mary, was alive. And Nero.” He turns to Lir. “You didn’t even exist.”

Lir laughs. “No wonder you were so out of it.”

The conversation turns to weird dreams people have had in the past, but Dante notices that his father gives him a strange look. Dante’s brows lift a bit in question, but Sparda doesn’t say anything, leaving him to wonder.

The food is the best he’s had in ages, and Dante eats until he is ready to burst. Vergil pokes fun at him which he gives right back, enjoying the scowl on his brother’s face when he tells a slightly raunchy joke and makes Nero laugh. Sparda laughs too, and Dante ignores Lady’s scolding, used to tuning her out. But when Lir rubs his thigh, it draws his attention, and Dante realizes at some point he had slung his arm around her. “Behave yourself,” she whispers with a smile.

There is something in her gaze that is almost like a promise, a shared connection he doesn’t quite understand. It’s enough to make his neck heat, and he shifts in his seat as he mumbles an apology. “Don’t go repeating that, Nero,” he says.

“Can me and V come hang out at the shop next week?” Nero asks.

Both boys look at him expectantly, and he shrugs as his eyes glance towards Vergil. “As long as your old man says it’s okay,” he replies.

“It’s fine,” Lady says. “Just don’t let them touch the equipment.”

Dante pictures Agni and Rudra hanging on the wall, Cerberus above the door, Beowulf in the closet. “Yeah, okay,” he nods. “I’ll put the guns away too.”

Lir snorts but Vergil narrows his eyes. “It’s not a joke, Dante. I don’t want them touching anything that can get their hand blown off.”

“Well, Nevan is the only thing that can really blow off a hand, but I got a case for her,” he replies.

Vergil waves him off and the conversation resumes, and again Dante notices his father staring at him. Sparda looks shocked, like he’s seen a ghost, and when Dante raises his brows in question his father only shakes his head and quickly goes back to his chocolate cake.

At the end of the meal, Dante doesn’t want to leave, but the others start saying their goodbyes. He hugs his mother tightly and kisses her cheek, earning himself one of her laughs. “Always so sweet,” she murmurs.

His father shakes his hand, but wears a frown. Sparda pulls him in a bit close and murmurs so only Dante can hear, “What you said earlier? You were joking, right?”

“Huh?”

Sparda clears his throat and scratches his nose, glancing around like a conspirator. “You said you had Nevan in a case. Did you read that somewhere?”

“What are you talking about?” Dante laughs.

“Oh! Right, right, nevermind. I must have thought you meant something else.” Dante wrinkles his brow in confusion, but then realizes his father probably doesn’t know Nevan was turned into a guitar. He starts to explain but Sparda cuts him off. “Can we meet for lunch next week?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Dante says excitedly.

“Good.” Sparda pats his arm, giving him another strange look before moving away.

Lady promises to text him and they leave Vergil to grumble over the bill and head to the car. Lir offers to drive again, which he takes gratefully. They are back on the road a minute later, and Dante leans the seat back with a deep sigh. “That was so good,” he says with a smile.

“Yeah, it was fun.” His eyes are drooping so he misses Lir’s sideways glance when she asks, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really keep a gun in the shop?”

Dante sits up and frowns at her, and Lir quickly goes on, “I understand why you would, really I do. I was just surprised. I thought it was a joke, but it didn’t sound like one.” He shakes his head, thoroughly confused, and Lir asks, “Well? Did you buy a gun?”

He clears his throat and adjusts his seatbelt. “I have a few, yeah?”

“A few.” Lir considers this for a moment before sighing. “I can’t say that I’m comfortable with it, but again, I can see why. You are safe with them? They are locked up and everything?”

Dante thinks about Ebony and Ivory in the drawer of his desk. “Sure,” he says.

Claudius is there to greet them when they get home, and Dante watches with some amusement as Lir scoops him up and coos at him sweetly as she carries him to the kitchen. Suddenly tired, he heads upstairs to change out of his clothes, deciding to stay in the boxer briefs for bed. She’s seen him already like that anyway, right?

Lir joins him a few minutes later, when Dante is already settled in bed and flicking through the television stations. He tries not to look as she changes into a short nightgown, sitting up on the pillows when she slides into bed.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, but Lir takes the remote control and turns the television off. She straddles his lap and drapes her arms over his shoulders, and Dante gulps as he looks up at her smile.

“It was such a nice night. You were so sweet with your parents,” she sighs. She leans in and kisses his cheek, making Dante jump. “And no arguing either. I’m very proud of you.”

“So you uh… you’re not mad about the guns?” he asks.

Lir shakes her head. “No. In fact…” Her voice trails off as she drags her palms down his chest, making his breath catch. “I think it’s kind of hot.”

“Really?” he asks, brows shooting up in surprise. She nods, and then rocks her hips, and Dante bites back a groan. Even through the fabric of his shorts he can feel how hot she is, and he has a very firm suspicion that if he lifted her gown, he’d find she was wearing nothing underneath.

Lir continues grinding against him, tilting close enough to brush her lips on his. Dante sucks in a breath as his body sparks to life instantly, grabbing her hips to slow her for a moment before he gets completely hard and can’t think.

But her fingers teasing his hair and her lips dancing along his jaw makes it hard enough already. “Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, I just…”

He doesn’t know how to continue, but just then Lir pulls her nightgown off over her head and tosses it away. Dante’s eyes bulge when he sees he was right about nothing underneath, and his eyes dart downwards as she slides one hand down his stomach, a mischievous grin on her face. She tugs at the waistband of his shorts and he gives a huff. This is his dream, right? So he shouldn’t feel guilty. Not at all. Especially when she reaches inside and licks her lips, the guilt melting away as he sinks against the mattress with a groan.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc nero #dmc v #dmc lady #dmc sparda #dmc eva #dmc oc #lir #fan fiction #myfic #the wish

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Wet Sugar” [Part 28 of 30]

Summary: Erik and Yani’s lives are about to change permanently....

youtube

"I'm a fish in an aquarium Cut off from the outside world The water's always lukewarm And I observe

Hardly anyone takes notice of me But I am, here Quietly floating My lips, moving Just like yours

Always in motion You, never seem to rest Through my reflection I watch you Why do you keep me here, like this…"

Me'Shell Ndegeocello – "Aquarium"

"Come on Sweet Pea, it's okay. Come out from there…"

Yani stuck her head under Sydette's bed and saw her daughter curled up with her doll Miss Penny in the fetal position.

"It's just a bad man on tv it's not real," Yani said.

She reached her hands out for Sydette and the girl crawled from under the bed and sat on Yani's lap.

"Oh, I know that sound scared you. We'll watch something else."

Yani carried Sydette back into their living room and switched the channel to a cooking show. She wasn't expecting a violent news report to interrupt the comedy show they were watching. Her daughter eased back into her chest but Yani could feel her trembling. Touching Sydette's face, Yani kissed her daughter's forehead.

Two months and her daughter was still having night terrors and panic attacks because of Huntsman and their last night at the compound. Even Yani felt a little anxious when she walked around her apartment at night, afraid that someone would come to the door, break-in, and finish what they started on that night. Killmonger said he handled all those men. She wasn't so sure sometimes, especially knowing about Klaue's different minions from all over the world.

It had only gotten worse with Sweet Pea.

Loud sounds on tv or in real life brought either sudden tears or her baby running to hide. Sydette had finally stopped going to the front door and trying to find Killmonger. Yani no longer heard her baby girl asking, "We go find Baba now?"

Yani asked her mentor at the hospital for help finding a therapist that dealt with children and she was able to recommend a wonderful doctor for Sydette. The therapist was a friendly older white man with gentle milky blue eyes. Yani told the partial truth of what had happened to them. Sitting in the man's office while Sydette played with some dolls the therapist had in his space, she explained that they had been robbed while staying in a rental property with her boyfriend. She told him about the guns that were used on them, and she even explained how she and Sydette escaped on the beach. That was all she revealed. Afterward, she sat back and watched the man speak to her daughter just to get to know her. The therapist wrote a lot down, and when it was over, they set up appointments to have Sydette come in twice a week.

Once the therapist gained Sydette's trust after two visits, he had her use dolls to tell him what happened from her point of view. Sydette was so talkative and descriptive.

The man had Sydette coloring while she talked along with more doll play, and there were also sessions with Yani talking with her little girl to help develop coping skills when Sydette did run and hide.

Holding her child on her lap, Yani did what the therapist told her to do. She acted calm and regulated her own breathing so that Sydette copied her and brought down her anxiety. She acknowledged what Sydette was feeling and let her baby dictate how the conversation would go. It was hard though. Sydette tended to ask the same questions about the bad guys coming back. Yani often caught her acting out the attack with her own dolls, and it broke her heart. Bedwetting increased and going to bed at night was a difficult ritual and her daughter no longer wanted to sleep alone in her room. Yani allowed her to stay with her.

Sydette tended to self-soothe frequently with her thumb in her mouth, something she had never done before. She also dragged around a blanket that Killmonger bought for her and twisted her fingers frequently along the edges of the pink satin material whenever she saw something that reminded her of that night.

Sydette reached up and touched the curly lace front Yani wore. She was switching out three different wigs to cover up the scar on her head from the bullet that struck her. It hadn't healed all that well and the scar brought back bad memories.

"How are you feeling now Sweet Pea? Sad? Scared…?"

"Sad."

"Oh yeah? It's ok to feel sad."

"And scared."

"Mama is right here for you. You want to talk about it?"

She shook her head and pressed her face into Yani's chest.

They sat together until Sydette tugged on her pants.

"You need to change your pull-ups?"

"Yes."

Yani closed her eyes and tried not to cry. Sydette had been potty-trained, but now she was back to wearing pull-ups again because of so many accidents during the day.

"Come on."

Yani walked her to the bathroom and cleaned her up. After replacing the pull-ups she made sure to get them back on their evening routine. Making dinner together. Pork n' beans and hot dogs. Yani sliced up cooked wieners and let Sydette drop them into a pot of beans mixed with barbecue sauce and brown sugar. Keeping a daily routine helped Sydette a lot, but Yani was worried that Sydette would never get better.

Yani felt that her own therapy sessions were less important than getting her daughter back on track.

Plus….she had another concern that was twisting up her world.

And she needed to talk to Twyla about it and no one else.

###

Linda's eyes showed no glimmers of shock, surprise, or any concern at all.

Erik arrived in Sweden after a two-week trip of seeing relatives and solidifying his plans to take out Klaue en route to Wakanda. Linda picked him up at the airport and her enthusiasm at seeing him was the best Academy Award-winning performance he had ever experienced. He hugged her and allowed her to kiss his cheek, but then he went straight into work mode.

"How was your flight?" she asked.

They stood by the luggage carousel and waited for Erik's duffle bag and metal suitcase.

"Fine. How's Klaue?"

"Good. Calm actually, which is not normal for him. He seems pretty confident now that you have landed."

He grabbed his duffle as Linda picked up his suitcase. She ushered him to a cab outside and Erik watched her closely. Her eyes flicked over the attaché that Erik held in his hand.

"Things good with your family?" she asked.

"Cool breezy. I'm ready to get to work."

Her eyes were playful and Erik tried to keep his face neutral, but he felt himself grinding his teeth together.

The two-story hideout in Sweden was pretty swanky. Isolated and guarded by a new crew of security that Erik didn't know. Pure muscle men that Klaue planned on taking to Korea with them.

Erik handed over the attaché that Klaue needed, and he learned that Klaue was using it to essentially blackmail the C.I.A. into buying the vibranium from him. Linda acted nonchalant when she saw Klaue getting what she wanted in his hand.

Settling down into tracking the artifacts that would eventually arrive in London, Erik observed Linda's behavior with much more intensity. There might be a Plan B to her treachery. She stayed on several computers for twelve hours a day, and he never caught her sneaking off to try and contact anyone. The moment she saw Erik, she had to know her plans to rob Klaue had been foiled. Erik was alive and in her face. It didn't matter to him that she thought Yani and Sydette were accidental collateral damage. She would have to pay for what she had done.

Rising early one morning, Erik stepped out onto a patio and made a call to his Aunt Serah on his personal cell.

"JaJa."

Serah's voice sounded happy to hear from him.

"Can you face chat, or nah?"

"I am walking into my apartment now."

Erik switched to audio and video and adjusted the earbuds he wore.

"You look good," she said.

"Busy, but I'm maintaining."

"Bakari and Dante said they enjoyed seeing you."

"It was good to be home."

"How can I help you?"

He watched his Aunt take a seat in her kitchen.

"I need you to do something for me. And when I ask you to do this, don't ask why."

Her eyes took him in and she drew in a deep breath.

"What is it?"

"When the London exhibit hits, I don't want you to be there for the first week of the opening. Call in sick."

His face was serious and he waited for her to push back and be nosey as she was prone to be.

"A week?"

He nodded.

It had to be a week. It would take a few days before the arrival for Linda to get in with a job and start taking over surveillance. Erik had already shown their micro-crew the layout for the museum and also the main players. He couldn't leave his Aunt out of the staff photos he showed everyone, but he could keep her away from what they were planning to do.

"I have some vacation time stored up."

"I will let you know what week to leave," he said.

"JaJa—"

"Auntie…please…"

His eyes darted around to make sure he still had privacy.

"Fine. I will do it."

"Thank you. I have to go now. I'll chat with you soon."

She blew him a kiss and Erik went to find Linda.

He found her on her laptop posted up near Klaue in the dining room. She was creating a fake visa and London I.D. for herself.

Klaue sat staring at his own laptop while drinking his third cup of coffee.

"Ross is ready for the transaction," Klaue said.

"I found a plane to get us out. We can jump to Japan, and then Indonesia—" "You take care of all of that with Limbano. I'm working on getting our money upfront before the trade-off. Any word on when the exhibit is happening? I really don't want this to drag out."

"A few months. Be patient."

Klaue smacked Erik's shoulder and sipped on his fresh brew.

"Pre-paid gigs now. Impressive," Erik said taking a seat next to Klaue. He poured himself coffee from the pot sitting on the dining table.

Linda looked at him and the curl of a smile on her lips made him want to punch her. He needed to find something to do or else he would reveal his hand.

"Going for a walk," Erik said.

He left the house and walked around the grounds. The air smelled clean and it helped him clear his head.

He was ready to move.

Being in Sweden gave him time to watch the news on the regular. King T'Chaka would be at the Vienna International Center to help bring about the ratification of the Sokovian accords. Erik hoped the man would return to Wakanda in time for him to stomp him out. He didn't want to challenge the throne while his Uncle was out of the country. He needed him and T'Challa there in person. It would look like a reckless power-grabbing coup d'etat if Erik ran through Wakanda while they were away. No…he needed to follow the letter of the law in his father's homeland. Reading his father's journals, he learned of N'Jobu considering making a play for the throne before he was murdered. It wasn't enough to be a rebel. True power was claiming the throne with a legitimate justice claim. He wanted to kill T'Chaka and T'Challa on their home turf in front of their people. Under their own laws. Their rules. There would be no questioning of his ascension to the throne with their blood on his hands.

Blood on his hands…

His thoughts turned to Yani and Sydette.

It still pained him to think of them. God knows he tried to put them far in the back of his mind as he could, but he couldn't stop the occasional random memories that came at him. A certain odor in the house would remind him of a meal he cooked for his girls. A song on the radio put him back into the kitchen of Klaue's house with Sydette holding onto his hands and dancing as Yani fussed at them for being in her way as she cooked. As hard as he tried to stay busy and mentally occupied, they would creep into his psyche. His trip back to the states helped a lot when he visited his family, but the moment he stepped on the plane to Sweden he fell into a funk. Seeing Linda only brought the island back into sharp relief.

Erik walked back into the house to find some good liquor. He needed to drown his thoughts.

Stay the course.

Focus.

###

Yani stirred in a handful of potatoes into the fish soup she made on Twyla's stove. The fragrant home-made broth she fixed made her own mouth water.

"Don't put no okra in it. I nuh want to feel that slime in my mouth," Twyla said.

"Too late," Yani called out.

"Argh!" Twyla groaned.

"I didn't put a lot in. Barely a handful."

Yani put the soup on simmer and washed her hands.

Sydette played with two new Barbie dolls her paternal grandmother bought for her on the floor. The tv was on a cartoon and Twyla sat on her couch flipping through a fashion magazine.

"You alright?" Twyla asked.

"Yeah."

"You look funny…"

Yani glanced down at Sydette.

"Can we talk in the kitchen?" Yani asked.

Twyla eyed her and then tossed her magazine on the couch. They left Sydette to her dolls.

Twyla lifted up the lid on the soup and took a big whiff.

"Smells like Auntie's."

"Be done soon…Twyla…?" Yani laced and unlaced her fingers together.

Her cousin sat in a chair next to her.

"Yeah?" Twyla said.

"I'm in trouble. I…I messed up…"

"What happen?"

"Don't be vex…"

Yani's hand instinctively went to her belly.

Twyla's head tilted to the side. Her eyes got big and then she sucked her teeth.

"I don't want to hear that…Yani…last time yuh ask mi not be vex…oh dammit cuz…yuh had Sydette…"

Yani's hand covered her eyes and she felt fat tears squeeze from her lids.

Twyla jumped up from her seat and stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway to check on Sydette. She turned back to Yani.

"All this stuff you two are dealing with, and now…yuh telling me you carrying that man's baby?"

Twyla sat back down on the chair and touched Yani's hand.

"I'm not trying to be mean…I'm just. Dammit. I was worried about this happening."

"I'm not keeping it."

Yani wiped her face.

"We said we wouldn't have no baby together. I'm not going to term. I made an appointment in the states. I need you to keep Sydette for me. I'm going to fly to Florida. There's a clinic in Miami that will help me deal with this. I just need you to keep quiet, and watch my Sweet Pea."

"You're going by yourself?"

"Yeah. I don't want anyone to know. Just you."

Twyla squeezed Yani's hand.

"I didn't mean to sound like a bitch about it."

Yani shrugged.

"How far along are you?"

"Two months."

Yani stood up and went to the stove.

She lifted the lid on the soup and stirred it, needing something to do. Needing to be away from Twyla's eyes.

They hadn't been careful.

Especially for the last month they were together. A part of her thought she wanted it to happen. As careful as she had been in the beginning with him, they had become careless in the end. Her rigid birth control taking had slipped and she had no one to blame but herself. She hadn't been taking her pills at the same regular times she always had. The early morning was her normal time, but sometimes she took them in the afternoon, or at night. They had set themselves up for failure. Especially when she allowed him to ejaculate inside of her so often. She had irregular cycles and thought this was another scare like last time. She ignored the first month thinking the stress from the attack was the cause.

She beat herself up. His last few words to her was to not let anything stop her from going to school. Now she was carrying his seed and breaking every promise she made to herself. Killmonger was just as responsible, but now he was out of her life.

"No one can know about this, Twyla."

"My mouth is shut. I'll keep Sydette for you."

Yani covered the soup again. She felt Twyla's arms go around her waist, her cheek pressed close to hers.

"I'll carry this weight with yuh cuz. Okay? No worries."

Yani's head dropped down. Twyla turned her around and Yani buried her face in her cousin's neck.

"I can't go backward," she whispered into her cousin's skin.

"When are you flying out?"

"Next week. Thursday through Sunday."

"You shouldn't go alone. I'll go with you. I'll call in sick to work—"

"I don't want—"

"Calm down…calm down. We'll get Monice to watch Sydette. We'll tell her we're going to visit Kendall. We can see him when we get there, then disappear. He'll be busy doing his club dates and no one will suspect anything if we actually don't see him. It's just a Miami girls trip. Dry your eyes."

Yani nodded.

She was happy that Twyla would come with her. She didn't want to go alone, but she wanted to stay discreet.

"Mama…"

Sydette stood in the doorway and Yani wiped her eyes. Painting a wide smile on her lips she grabbed bowls from the cupboard.

"Ready for some fish tea, love?"

Sydette nodded.

"It'll be okay," Twyla said.

Yani hoped so.

###

Erik's hands slid up her thighs.

They were browner from the sun and so warm to the touch that Erik found himself heavy sighing as he touched her.

The sun beat down on his back and he could feel the hot searing heat making his keloids tingle.

She tried to wiggle back from him and he dragged her legs back to him.

"Nah…get back here. I want you right now. Just like this."

He used his strength to lock her legs down, and when he sank down into her, her lusty shouts made him smile.

Sweat dripped down from his face and onto hers. He threw his head back and a hard exhale fell from his mouth.

"Fuck…baby…!"

Her eyes seemed to be pleading with him, like she was trying to convey something to him on a deeper level.

The muscles in his ass clenched tight and his voice cracked when she said his name in his ear.

"Erik…"

He bolted up from the bed.

"Shit," he gasped, his fingers clutching his sheets.

Glancing around the bed, Erik saw that he was alone in his room. He shut his eyes tight and caught the fading sensations of being with Yani once more. Falling back onto his back, he stared at the ceiling. The warm tingling sensation on his skin disarmed him. He actually felt her hands on him. He could smell her scent still. Lucid dreams had happened to him before, but this one was much too powerful. His hand drifted to his groin and the erection that greeted him there was slick with his semen. He gripped his dick and the throbbing in his hand surprised him and he found himself ejaculating while being awake.

"Ah, fuck…"

Fingers wet, skin drenched in sweat, Erik rolled his face into his pillow and fought the urge to reach out to her. Although his body was yearning for the sexual contact, Erik just wanted to lay up with her and hold her. He missed the weight of Sweet Pea on his chest and Yani snuggled against him.

Erik dragged himself off the bed to clean up the nocturnal emissions. Red eyes greeted him in the bathroom mirror. Had he been crying while dreaming? His heart thudded in his chest and he touched the left side to feel the sensation. His gut told him something was wrong.

He grabbed his laptop and sat back on the bed.

Using an old avatar, he tried to check her social media, but she had deleted everything. It was smart on her part. Kept her off the radar. Twyla's accounts were locked, and Kendall's had become strictly business. When he typed in her name only pictures of her from Kendall's or Chez's fans popped up and they were very few compared to when she had been active online.

His fingers itched to call Twyla, but he refrained.

It wasn't right to try and bounce in and out of her life. She had money. She had support. She would do what she had to do to take care of herself and Sydette.

He shut down his laptop and went outside to walk the grounds. One of Klaue's new security team eyed him hard when he stepped to the rear of the house. Erik waved him off and continued meandering under the moonlight. The acute sensations of feeling Yani's presence had finally faded.

But something tugged at his spirit.

Something felt amiss.

###

Yani sat wearing a paper medical gown in a room filled with five other women dressed the same.

They all sat in a silent queue that they probably never thought they would find themselves in.

Yani kept her head down and stared at her bare feet encased in sandals. A woman sitting adjacent from her stared at her head, and she regretted not wearing one of her wigs. She still felt very self-conscious about the scar. Only part of the hair grew back and the rest was small but vivid scar tissue. Shiny like one of Killmonger's keloids.

Her heart jumped when she thought of him. She worried the thin material of the medical gown with her fingers as her nerves ratcheted up. A thin Latino looking woman was called to follow a Doctor's assistant and Yani could feel the collective anxiety from all the other women and herself as they watched the woman go through a door that closed with a loud bang. She wished she could text Twyla just to have something to do to occupy her mind, but her cousin was posted up at the hotel they were staying at awaiting her call for when the procedure was done.

Procedure.

Yani closed her eyes.

When she first found out she was pregnant with Sydette she was so ready to go to a clinic and terminate. Fidgeting in her seat, she couldn't imagine doing that. But that was only because she had Sweet Pea now, knew her, loved her. It seemed like such an easy thing to do back then especially when she was so angry with Chez and how that pregnancy came to be.

This one was different. It was an accident. A loving accident.

Her tummy flip-flopped and she felt her leg shake a bit with nerves. Another woman was called to go away. Yani was next if they were going in order as they had been.

An older white woman with tight crows feet around her eyes opened the door soon enough and looked Yani in the eye. Yani stood up and tried to close the back of her gown that had begun to stick to her backside from nervous sweat.

She was taken into a sterile room and asked to lay back on a cool blue gynecology chair with a protective white hygienic cover. The assistant helped her place her legs in some stirrups and adjusted her backrest for comfort.

Yani felt her blood pressure rise up and her breathing grew erratic.

The assistant's voice was raspy as she spoke from a protective mask.

"Try to relax. I'm going to place Misoprostol against your cervix. It will soften it for us, and then in two hours the doctor will come in and we'll start. Okay?"

Yani nodded but when the woman touched her thigh to let her know she was about to proceed, Yani tensed up and her hands went to her stomach and covered it.

"Stop, please."

The assistant stared at Yani and pulled away from her.

"You need a moment?"

Yani nodded and felt the small prick of a tear in her eye. She covered her face with her right hand.

"I'll come back—"

"I'm nervous."

The assistant gave a small sigh and when she was about to say something more, a Black woman with a short gray 'fro walked in.

"She's nervous," the assistant said.

Yani watched the Black woman approach her side. The woman touched her arm and gave it a soft pat. Her hand was warm.

"It's alright," the woman said.

"I'm sorry—"

"No need for you to be sorry. This isn't easy for any woman. Even the ones who act like it's no big deal. I'm the doctor who will be working with you. How would you like for me to proceed?"

The doctor reached out for her hand, and Yani accepted the comfort.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head back and exhaled.

###

Twyla drove to the side of the non-descript building and Yani walked to their rental car. She climbed into the passenger seat and burst into tears.

"Oh…cuz…it's alright."

Twyla caressed her scalp and turned Yani's face toward her. "I couldn't do it."

"What?"

Yani shook her head and covered her mouth.

"You didn't-?"

"No."

Twyla held Yani's hand.

"They are going to kill me back home."

"No. Disappointed…yes. But they will love this one like Sydette."

"Yuh disappointed with me?"

"I don't want to see you struggle again. You are supposed to be a doctor, Yani. It just gets harder with two babies."

"Yuh think I should abort this one?"

"I can't make that choice for you."

"They had my legs up and were prepping me and I just…I thought…this was an accident, but it didn't have to be a mistake. I know it don't make sense, and everyone will think I'm just a stupid woman who can't keep her legs shut. I want to be selfish for this child, for its father's sake. Killmonger…he's a good man. We all know he ah bad man when him with Klaue, he said it himself. Him clear on that. But I know he wants to be a good man. In his own way. I don't know where he is, but I want to have this good. This baby is good. Hear mi?"

"I hear you, Yani."

"I have enough money for now. It will just take me a little longer to finish school. But I won't have to struggle like before."

Yani wiped her eyes again.

"I want him to have something good in the world. I want to keep my baby."

Twyla stared out of the window.

"He was so loving to us, Twyla. I know you think I'm stupid for this—"

"I never said that. It's just hard having a child alone. It's why I never did it."

Yani snuck a glance at her cousin.

"You ever regret your decision with Devon?"

"No. The choice was easy for me. It turned out to be the best thing for me. I won't tell yuh what to do. This your decision."

Twyla regarded her face with concern.

"Once we leave here, there's no going back, Yani. I mean, you could make another appointment—"

"No. I've made up my mind. My parents are going to hate me, no matter what you say, but it's what I want to do."

"Crazy gyal. Lord ah mercy I can already hear Auntie sucking her teeth."

Yani smiled even as she felt new tears falling down her cheeks.

She was accustomed to working hard her entire life. She'd just have to be on the grind even harder for Sydette, school, and this little one.

"Can yuh come with me to tell Auntie? I want her to know before my parents. I have to get my house in order."

"Be ready for her to have a fit…although…"

"Although what?" Yani asked, hesitation in her voice.

"She really liked that big nigga."

Yani's lips trembled and Twyla squeezed her hand again.

"She really did," Yani agreed.

"I really liked him too. Lord, here we go again!"

Twyla started the car and Yani rested her head in her seat and closed her eyes.

###

Twyla stood in the kitchen doorway as Yani sat on a loveseat with Sydette seated next to her.

"Yuh understand what Mama is saying? You will be a big sister," Yani said.

"In there?" Sydette said pointing to Yani's belly.

"Yeah, the baby is in there. I'll get a big stomach like Sandrina."

"Can I talk to the baby?"

"Anytime you want."

Sydette leaned forward pressing her ear to Yani's stomach.

"You in there baby? Can yuh hear me?"

"You like being a big sister?"

Sydette nodded.

Yani's eyes swept over to her mother and her Aunt Leona. Her mother's face was tight, but she found strength in Leona's firm stance that Yani's mother not scold her or talk down to her. Leona herself was disappointed at first, but then she immediately steeled herself to support Yani when she told the rest of the family. Everyone knew who the daddy was, and they all knew the man was never coming back.

"The baby sleep in my room with me?"

"Yes, love. When it gets a little bigger."

"Will I have a brother or a sister?"

"We won't know until it gets here. What do you want me to have?"

"A brother."

Paula stood up and walked over to Yani, taking a seat next to Sydette.

"Your life is in your hands—"

"Mommy—"

"Let me finish. We didn't do right by you the first time…when you had Sydette—"

"Don't—"

"Listen. Your Daddy and me saw how hard you worked to raise your child on your own. I'm sorry we were so hard on you. We nuh treat yuh how we should have and we can't change that. But we can be better this time. I'm not ashamed of you, Yani. I know yuh think that. Yuh just make things tough on yourself and we don't want you to struggle like we did raising alla you girls. I'm sorry…"

"Mommy. Forget that—"

"Yes. Forget all of that past stuff and let's focus on getting this new pickney here healthy and in one piece," Leona said.

Sydette jumped down from the couch.

"Where yuh going, Sweet Pea? Yani asked.

"I have to use the bathroom."

Yani watched her daughter run to the bathroom on her own.

The evening was pleasant and her mother cooked dinner for all of them. Yani ate her fill of beef patties with fried rice and Sydette spent the night in their bed touching her stomach and talking to her sibling with soft whispers.

###

"JaJa."

"Auntie."

Erik could see on his cell that she was standing outside of the Museum of Great Britain.

"The exhibit arrives in July. The opening will be on 15th."

"Thank you Auntie."

"I put in my request for vacation time."

"Good."

Her sharp eyes took in his face.

"Whatever you are about to do…be safe."

"Always."

Erik hung up and turned his eyes back to the small touchpad he watched outside on the backyard patio.

King T'Chaka sat in the United Nations, his voice confident as he addressed the assembly. How fitting that he should speak of peace and harmony among countries when Erik was preparing to bring that work to his own country's doorstep.

How fitting indeed.

Chapter 29 Here

###

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