Hello lovelies! This is where you can find all the chapters to my series, Pain is My Hometown! This series was originally posted on ao3, but I decided it could also be here!
(on hiatus for the foreseeable future i’m so sorry 🙏)
warnings (for this series): mentions of rape, sexual assault, trauma, physical trauma, psychological trauma, father issues, mommy issues, alcohol, slow burn, use of (Name), no y/n. [Subject to change at any time!]
Also with the warnings, for each chapter I'll have specific warnings if they apply!
( cross posted on ao3 )
Chapter I: Prisoner of Your Own Reflection
Chapter II: Black Tears Don't Hide in the Rain
Chapter III: Only Fools Follow Their Heart
Chapter I [you're here!] | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Table of Contents
writers notes: hello loves! for those who didn't find me on ao3, I'm posting my ongoing book/series here! Though for those who found me on ao3, this isn't a new chapter BUT chapter four is coming out very very soon!
・warnings/tags: mature topics, drinking, endless banter (it's dmc that's all they do)
( cross posted on ao3 )
“Nero! For fucks sake pick up your tools, I almost just died again because they're all over the floor!” The hot summer day did not help your crushing annoyance, bringing a hand to your ankle, nursing the soon-to-be bruise. Hoping the children were outside as you didn’t think yelling would be a fond childhood memory. Hindsight is 20/20, what do you do anyway?
“If you put on your glasses you wouldn’t trip over them!” Nero shouted back, seemingly in the kitchen inside the house. A frustrated grunt left your mouth, removing your helmet, little hairs sticking against your sweaty forehead. The motorcycle stood parked on the concrete, and the culprit of your trip was stuck under the tire of your bike. Stupid socket wrench, why was it on the ground anyway? Whatever, maybe Nero will stub his toe on it and see how he likes it.
“I don’t know how Kyrie has put up with your displacement of practically everything you own.” Your eyes floated over to the bedside light on the kitchen counter. “This is my house you’re crashing by the way so I don’t see how you have any say in it.” Nero defended himself as his hands poked and prodded at the lamp, from the looks of it he was attempting to fix it. Keyword; attempt.
“Smart ass.” Turning on your heel she left him to “fix” the lamp. Making it to your room rather; Nero and Kyrie’s guest room you’ve been hoarding, your steps became heavier the closer you got to your bed. Dragging your feet you plopped down onto the bed with a grunt you’d likely hear from an elderly person.
Too hot. Way too hot. Peeling off the protective gear for your bike- why can’t you just regenerate limbs like Nero could instead of having to be careful with this thick-ass clothing that supposedly protected you? It, unfortunately, did do its job, just way too warm. A plug-in fan panned around the span of the room, clicking every so often, the cool air was lovely. A shower is what was needed, immediately.
After confirming with Kyrie she didn’t need the bathroom for one of the children, or herself, you have since put the metaphorical flag on top of the hill proclaiming this was your bathroom for the next hour and a half. Leaning forward into the mirror above the sink, your hands instinctively drove to your face, squeezing and picking anything you could see on your face.
Stepping foot into the bathtub-shower combo, the cold water hit your body, not without a shiver of course. Even if you felt like you were on fire and how tingly your hands felt, damn them. Music playing from the radio was atrocious, only two of the songs were halfway decent on this channel. Your actual nice CD player had fallen into the tub a week prior, which was unfortunate because she couldn’t even be mad since one of the kids thought it was a bathtime toy. You really did need to put things up higher.
After a record time of only 47 minutes in the shower, you stepped onto a towel laid on the floor, soaking up the droplets from your hair and body. Wrapping a towel with stains from previous hair dye adventures around your body. The mirror’s reflection was obscured by the condensation, you wiped it down with the end bit of the towel. Your hair was a disheveled mess, combing through the strands, it somehow dripped with more water.
“(Name)! Dantes calling for you!” Kyrie shouted from downstairs. Dante…Nero’s uncle- got to admit their family situation was odd. Though not far from your own. You scurried down the stairs with messy wet hair and clothes that were barely put on correctly. You held the cold piece of plastic to your ear, “Hello?”
“Hey, you wanna go out for drinks tonight? I thought it would be a change of pace.” Dante’s dancing around the subject and your history of going out to bars, especially on your birthday, was admirable. And the delicacy of the topic was appreciated.
“Will Lady and Trish be coming?” You asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, tapping your fingers. “You think they’d let you go to a bar with just me?” Dante’s smile was apparent when he was talking, almost to a chuckle. You just let out an amused huff. “I guess I could’ve answered that question myself.”
“Where are we going anyway?”
“A new bar opened up recently— Trish and Lady seemed to enjoy it so, whatever they say.” You hummed in agreement.
“I’ll see you at 9 then.” Dante agreed and hung up. Quickly rushing back upstairs to finish drying your hair, hopefully, you didn’t drip water all over the kitchen tile like a wet dog.
The sun was still visible, illuminating the sky with its brightness and awful heat. You walked out from ‘your’ room, where Kyrie was cleaning dishes with her cute little apron on, how domestic. Nico, who was originally the one who was the oddball staying in Nero and Kyrie’s house has since been promoted to slightly less odd since you’ve crashed their house. Nico opened the door to the garage, walking inside with grease covering her hands and some spots scattered around her arms and face.
“Who’s got you all dressed up?” Nico gave her a sly smirk, wiggling her eyebrows as obnoxiously as it sounds. “Well first off, I’m barely dressed up, and secondly just Dante, Lady, and Trish.”
Nico let out a huff, hoping for something new, not Dante . Officially stamped the worst flirt signed by Nicoletta Goldstein.
“Fine, at least Lady and Trish know how to have actual fun.” Nico walked to the kitchen sink, luckily it was big enough for both her and Kyrie. “Do you wanna tag along?”
“Shit!- I mean” She realized how loud she cursed, “I got work to do on the stupid van, Nero did somethin’ to it. He just doesn’t know how to speak mechanic like I do.” Nico dried her hands on a towel on the counter. Kyrie just chuckled at her comment, Nero did have a history of being a cheap mechanic. He knew the basics but you would never let him touch your bike. Not since you made that mistake the first time.
“Enjoy yourself, (Name), call me or Nero if you need anything.” Kyrie looked over her shoulder as she scrubbed plates. That woman was sent from heaven, you were fully convinced. “I’ll be alright Kyrie, thanks though.”
Stepping into the garage the socket wrench has since migrated from under your bike, Nero definitely stubbed his toe on it. You chuckled to yourself as you put on your helmet, you were not above being safe, but you were going out, and the shop wasn’t too far from here so your protective- hot ass gear can stay.
The sun wasn’t quite setting but the sky was still vibrant, driving a little above the speed limit when driving through the streets. Subtly tapping your foot to the beat of the music drumming in your ears. Weaving through familiar streets, you turned down the alleyway behind Devil May Cry. You kicked her bike stand down, making sure the thing didn’t fall- your precious child. Luckily you didn’t get sweaty on the ride over so your hair was mostly intact.
Walking through the back door, to hear Dante and Lady playfully bickering, as always. Trish leaned against the counter of the kitchen, “Look who made it!” Trish announced to Lady and Dante who were up front. Trish greeted you with a hug and Lady also followed suit. Dante just slapped you a little too hard on the shoulder, he has to know he’s strong, and that sometimes leaves a mark. “I’m surprised I didn’t get a message saying I’m in bed, maybe another time.” Dante interjected, “That’s only happened a few times okay?” You just rolled your eyes. “Cut her some slack Dante, you’re a party animal, and she actually ages unlike you. At least in a meaningful way.” Lady defended you. Dante just held up his hands in surrender. You weren’t that old you just got into your 30’s… 5 years ago. God Lady’s right.
“Mid-life crisis aside, let’s go drink, shall we?” Trish urged as she started walking out the front door. The rest tagged along quickly, and you trailed behind. And this bar that was “close to the shop” was like 4-5 blocks down the street. Of course, the demon hunters had no problem walking a ways but you were quite frankly out of shape, nowhere near as strong as you used to be. Walking up to a storefront with a flickering neon sign that said “Eddy’s Bar” with a logo next to it.
Upon entering the building, many voices began to jumble together into one noisy building, masking the music that you could barely hear even if you tried. Dante of course b-lined it for the bar, Lady and Trish ventured off into the crowd, for some reason, they usually get drinks first. You just shrugged mentally. Dante sat down at the bar stool, man spreading per usual, his gloved hands resting on the countertop. Why he barely changes his attire besides his shirt and pants- which all looked the same to you- still puzzles you a tiny bit. You joined Dante, sitting next to him on the neighboring stool, he motioned for the bartender.
“What could I do for you two?” The bartender questioned, preemptively going for an empty glass. “Brandy Alexander,” Dante answered, panning over to you.
“And for the lady?” The bartender looked at you- the lady? You suppose Dante and you look like a couple right now, gross. You shook it off with a slight tug at your lips. “Midori Sour, please.” Fidgeting with your hands, the bartender nodded, within a minute he handed you and Dante your drinks and wandered off.
“The lady , huh?” Dante smirked, smug bastard. “Yeah, the lady apparently.” You just shook your head, putting your glass to your lips.
“Where did Lady and Trish go?” You tried searching for them with your eyes, or if you could hear one of them.
“I dunno, maybe they were looking for fun.” Dante mimicked you, sipping from his glass. “Us four were supposed to go out, not just me and you.” You sighed, holding your drink in your hands which sat on the counter.
“Wowww, I’m hurt.” Dante dramatically faked his ‘hurt’. “Well I get to talk to the girls about girl things, you wouldn’t get it.” Still trying to locate the two women, it’s not like they were too short that they sunk into the crowd.
Dante clutched his heart, again, what a drama queen. You would’ve thought he was a theater kid if you didn’t know any better.
“Nothing against you Dante- but I would much rather save my dignity than talk to you about girl things.”
“Oh, you have dignity left?” Dante’s face had a sly smile plastered on his face. Reminded of an unpleasant memory of your past adventures with Dante going out to bars. Never again, even if the memory was just fragmented because you were so so so drunk.
“I was more drunk than I had ever been in my entire life- my drink at that point could’ve been laced with an aphrodisiac.”
Dante just chuckled, “Yeah whatever you say, with your dignity .” This smug little bastard, not a doubt he remembers the entire thing. Hell, he could probably drink an entire bottle of Everclear and only be tipsy.
Through the crowd came Lady and Trish, Lady was practically dragging Trish. Their faces said it all.
“(Name)! There is a smoking hot guy over there, like seriously, even for your standards.” Lady exclaimed, very proudly. She and Trish had been almost searching for men for you, since your last outing with a man ended up with trauma and far more physical scars that reminded you. But now is not the time to be drowning in that side of your past.
“I need more alcohol to speak to any man right now.” You sighed, still having your current drink in your grasp. “I guess that's better than nothing.” Trish sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Dante ordered a round of shots, vodka, of course. You lift the shot glass to your lips and the liquid burns as it goes down your throat. You definitely made a face. Squeezing your eyes shut and opening them back again, you realize the half-devils barely even feel alcohol like a human does. Ugh, whatever, more for you.
Trish and Lady drag you out to the floor of the bar, slipping through the crowds of dancing people, trying not to bump into too many people without a ‘sorry’. “You look so stiff, just relax (Name). You have the best demon hunter and best man-eater here protecting you, all three of us will kill anyone who tries to do anything to you. You have my word.” Lady spoke over the music, trying to soothe your bubbling nerves. You just nodded as she let go of your hand, like sending off your child to college. Taking a step backward, your back collided with something, namely, someone. You turned around immediately to apologize for your clumsiness, even though that's the name of the game in this mess of a bar which at this point, it seemed more like a mosh pit.
The man you bumped into was a little taller than yourself, he just smiled. “No problem.” He went and walked off somewhere else. You cursed at yourself, that would’ve been a smooth way into a: “You wanna dance with me because I’m lonely”. Sighing you retreated closer to the edges of the crowd, you need another shot. Dante still perched on the seat you left him in. Weird, he’s usually quite the party animal, always has been, according to Lady.
You approached the corner of the bartop that you and Date were sitting at earlier, leaning against the counter, “I need another shot.” You said with a small exhale.
“The smokin’ hot guy is too much for you? You seemed to handle me quite well that one time.” Dante is too good at this, if you were in your 20s again, Dante’s clumsy attempts at flirting would definitely be working. “That one time was strictly one time.”
You quickly ordered another shot from the bartender, Dante called one for himself as well.
“And yes, the ‘smoking hot guy’ was too much for me to handle with just one shot in me.”
Dante barely gave a response before tapping the shot glass on the table twice with you before the two of you downed the rough liquor in unison. You shook your head slightly, whispering a curse. It had definitely been a while since you drank. “I’ll scream if I need your assistance, Dante.” With that, you bid him farewell and wiggled your way through the crowd at the center of the bar. You had seemed to lose Lady and Trish at the moment, in your haste, your shoulder collided with another. You turned to face the person and attempted to apologize and continue your search for the man from earlier.
“You keep bumpin’ into me like that, it's gonna make me think you’re into me.” The voice came from next to you, and your body froze. Well, you found him. That was your opening— for fucks sake live a little, trying to push yourself. “Maybe I do.” You just smiled, yup the alcohol was hitting a little. The man looked quite frankly handsome under this lighting, the occasional flashing lights of random colors and the haze that clouded your better judgment. “Stay for a little, if you’ll indulge me.” His words were sickly sweet like honey. But the fog in your brain melted, and now like a spider claiming its prize, he wrapped a gentle hand around your waist. Closing the gap between you two, and now you were smelling him, a sweet smell of dark chocolate and fresh rainfall swept into your senses. How a man can be so bold and yet so sweet was an experience you’ve yet to have up until this moment.
And how the night went on, with risqué moves rather than dancing. And without a doubt, a couple more shots. His hands wherever they migrated to, it was a ghost of a touch, it was gentle, surprisingly so. He pulled you away from the crowd, with a hand around your wrist, and occasionally glanced over his shoulder to check if you were still with him. You landed at the other side of the bar with him, thank god, far away from Dante, but you knew he could see you. Very clearly.
“What kind of shots do you like?” The man- whom you didn’t get the chance to know the name of, quizzed you. “Vodka.” You answered plainly, a glaze over your eyes when you looked at him. He ordered another shot, he sat down on a stool. You sunk the familiar taste, yet the feeling was yet to fade. You hoped you didn’t scrunch your face too much, setting the glass down, he looked at you, not saying a word. At this height, you didn’t have to crane your neck to see his eyes were beautiful, a dark green, seeing the speckles of yellow across his iris. He stayed silent until you realized how awkward of a staring contest this was and turned away to meet the other side of the bar.
A thumb and an index finger pulled your chin away from your musings. You were back at his eyes again, the glittering flower field on a spring day, yet the fierceness of a flowing river, the undercurrents sweeping you under into its grasp. A breath fanned over your lips. Now you were completely submerged. His lips were soft against yours, so soft, but pulling you closer, enough to keep you reaching for more. Your hand perched itself against his chest, the button-down he wore was opened slightly. The kiss continued, it barely felt like you had to do anything as your hand moved slightly to connect with his bare skin. Your other hand played with the hem of your shirt, the only place to exile your excitement because going full throttle into this kiss didn’t seem like the appropriate move.
You broke away from his mouth, finally getting your head above water. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and the racing of your heart, working unpaid overtime.
“I liked that.” Your words came out before you had a chance to proofread them. A smile formed on his lips, and slight stubble moved with the skin. “I liked that too.” Matching the simplicity and honesty of your words.
“I didn’t expect you to be so gentle.” You admitted, for why? You had no idea. “Why is that?” He asked you, if you were sober you wouldn’t have been so easily fooled by his question, which was obviously just to stroke his own ego. “I guess it’s the way you smell, and maybe the stubble.” Your hand reached out, connecting with the side of his cheek, the rough hair touching your palm. His expression morphed into a more surprised one, then softened again.
“I did ask, so I can’t be surprised with the results.” Your hand left his cheek, did you offend him? You certainly did not have that intention,
“I mean in like a good way- I noticed how you smelt when I got closer to you. It wasn’t anything bad, it was really great actual-“ Your sentence was quickly brought to a halt when his lips met yours again, but this time it was more like a raging river with the rain thundering down on top of the water. Both of his hands now pulled you closer, meeting your bodies. You stood between his legs as his hand covered your lower back, slipping under your shirt just the slightest bit. His teeth caught your lower lip, and your eyes fluttered open, to see him looking directly at you. The embarrassment was too much, you closed your eyes, letting your tongue invade his mouth. Thankfully it seemed to have been received well as you became dancing, metaphorically of course. His hands did not wonder, much to your disappointment since you were at the bartop. Oh my god, you were having a make-out session- at the counter of the bar, where people were sitting close to you.
He separated from you- maybe he felt your face heat up like a tea kettle. He just looked at you and chuckled, before your embarrassment could not exceed its limit now you shoved your face into his chest and collar bones. A laugh that vibrated his chest escaped him. “What did you get so embarrassed over?” He asked as you made your retreat from the safety of his chest. “I-“ “I think I need another shot.” Was all you could mutter without your head spontaneously combusting.
So many rounds after another, really it was only a couple of rounds. You downed another shot, did you count how many? Nope, and did you care? Also no.
“It feels awkward now, but, what's your name?” You sheepishly asked, as you now sat at the bar stool next to him. “It’s Kane, and no it's not awkward.” He tapped a finger on the counter. You tested the name out on your lips; “Kane.” He responded with a hum. “How do you like it?” Kane asked.
“It’s simple, and gentle, like you. I like it.” Your sentence was a little jumbled from your brain frankly being jumbled from the alcohol too.
“Do I have to ask the question now?” Kane chuckled as he spoke.
“What question?” You tilted your head- oh right.
“What's your name?” Kane asked, not without a laugh. You smiled, jeez you were slow right now. “(Name).” You responded, more calmly than the racing thoughts of your mind.
“Then, (Name), would you mind exchanging phone numbers with me?” God, you felt like you were back in high school again asking your crush out for the spring dance. You nodded, “I didn’t think I’d be able to leave without it.”
Kane reached for a napkin, and clumsily found a pen, with barely any ink left in it. You grabbed the pen, trying not to punch a hole through the papery fabric. You re-read the sequence of numbers to make sure it matches. “I have roommates— if you want to call them that, so they might answer instead.” Kane nodded.
“One more drink?” You asked as he shoved the napkin into his back pocket. “I thought you’d never ask.”
That one more drink pulled the two of you back into the pit of swarming people, it was all moving so fast, and now the two of you were actually dancing- well dancing as in; the clubbing type of way. His hands moved far more freely with the alcohol running through his veins. And you definitely moved more smoothly with the same alcohol.
And now you were being pulled to the side again by Kane’s hand on your wrist. Peaking through the veil of the crowd, you saw Trish and Lady speaking to a couple of guys at a booth. Kane stood in front of the table, holding you like he had just caught you cheating on the chem test.
“These are your friends right (Name).” He barely asked, less of a question more of a confirmation from Trish and Lady. He still had his wits about him, you however barely had anything intelligent left in you. Lady couldn't bear to hold in her laugh. The two men that were talking to them excused themselves, Trish whispered something to the man you didn't quite catch.
“I am far too gone myself to take her home, and the two of you look like a safer option.” Kane basically was asking them to take you home, he was leaving. “Yeah, she does look pretty fucked up.” Lady admitted, not without a ‘hey’ from yourself.
“We’ll take her home,” Trish spoke up.
“Thank you.” Kane turned to you and let go of your wrist, “I’ll call you okay?” You just nodded as you leaned your weight against the table, Kane walked off and it felt like you’d never see him again- would he even call you- would he abandon you? Just like Treyvon did? Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. Trish quickly stood next to you as you now shifted your weight onto her. Not without a quick sniffle of your nose, Dante wandered over and regrouped.
“Yeah, she’s just gonna have to stay at the shop tonight.”
Thank you for reading! I hope you will stick around for my bullshit :)
- onyxroses
