Hi there folks! I intended to write oneshots for Despicable me back when the first came out because, frankly, it was one of the best movies I had seen all year, and it still remains my favorite. And while the second one had a ton of flaws that I could sit and pick apart all day, I still found myself laughing and awing at a ton of moments, and will admit that I loved it as well. Not as much. But I loved it. I just never got to writing for it. So finally the second movie gave me the push I needed to write and publish these babies. They will center around either one of the movies, so not every one takes place in the sequel universe. And all of these contain a general theme of hatred which, I think, can easily be turned around in this situation and made into something cute. IDK, lets see if I succeeded!

Read and review! I'll try to update as quickly as possible, but I have many other stories I'm writing as well, and preparing for college has suddenly taken over my life.

o0o

"Often it is the most deserving people who cannot help loving those who destroy them."

~Hermann Hesse

o0o

The blueprint in front of him wavered in and out of his mind, thoughts not entirely focused on work. Granted it was two in the morning, a time when he should have been at least partially asleep, if not totally. But before he had become a parent, nights like these had been second nature, distractions minimal and work loads finished faster.

Of course, now he was a parent, and so at two in the morning he found himself more exhausted then he thought a human could possibly be.

Nefario would have his head about that in the morning.

Dropping his pencil, abandoning the prospect of work altogether, he allowed his mind to wander. Specifically, he allowed it to wander to ideas of three new additions that resided in the room up the stairs. Three small, yet tremendously huge, noisy, expensive, quick, destructive, girly, childish changes that now slept soundly in beds made from bombshells surrounded by a color of pink he would have never dreamed of allowing in his house one year ago. Then again, in just one year everything in his life had shifted and changed with absolutely no hope of return.

And sometimes, at two in the morning, he wondered if maybe that wasn't such a good thing.

Gru often times looked back at his past life. It wasn't exactly a hard thing to do, seeing as the spontaneous shift from super villain to father had happened practically overnight. But he did, on occasion, stop to look around at what his life had become and compare it to the life that he used to live. And every time this happened, without skipping a beat, some small piece of him looked back and wished that some aspect of that old life - the quiet mornings, that alone time, the responsibility one holds when one is responsible for only one person- would weave themselves into his new one, however impossible that could have been.

And while it was rare, it did occur where a more extreme thought slipped through the shut door and creeped into his brain. Usually it was when the three girls were fighting, when Edith jumped from a window to try and hold some sort of record, when Agnes sung her songs or when Margo talked back. It was during times when he looked around his house infested with pink, girly toys, noise of others chattering away and the constant presence of what he had now, from day one, deemed to be the 'annoying sounds'. It was on those sorts of days that Gru suddenly had the thought;

I really hate being a parent.

He'd always feel guilty afterwards, the thought being, for the most part, out of frustration and nothing more. But it had still existed and just because he hadn't liked it didn't mean that it wasn't true. And it was. Completely true in every way. Some nights, after the girls had been tucked in, books had been read and kisses had been doled, he'd sit and think what if?

What if he had never adopted his three children? What if he had let them be taken away? What if he had gone through with his plan, achieved all his dreams and still had only himself to worry about. Life would have been simple, good and perfect. There would be no noise, no distraction, no days where he wanted nothing more than to flop down and never awaken, too tired to even scribble a single blueprint. And it was then that he hated being a parent.

They had gotten in the way of his dreams and hopes. Because of the three children that resided in his life more by their own force than anything, he had been kept from everything his life had ever meant. Now his heists would never quite be the same, the larger, more elaborate ones would never make his mother proud, and Nefario would constantly berate him for being 'too occupied', which, to the old mans credit, wasn't exactly a lie. Children, he had discovered, needed more than dog bowls of water and candy and newspapers and three beds lined perfectly against a wall.

Children required constant attention. They required praise, love and care, three things he had hardly received himself. They needed stability, excitement, and someone to notice life for them so, in return, they could begin to do the same. They needed him to always be there. And from the years of neglect the three had received they needed it even more. It was draining, and he often found that his days were taken up by nothing more than them.

It was on those days, when he discovered that the entire meaning and drive his life had been built upon had shifted, that he hated being a parent.

And then he had to think...

His focus had changed. But was it for the worst? When his purpose had been simple villainy he'd been occupied and busy, but never exactly happy. He'd been satisfied to work minute after minute and second after second to reach sometimes impossible goals. Goals that often took him years to reach. But now the goals were tangible as the nose on his face. To get Margo to trust him a little more every day, to teach Edith how to properly hold the ray gun, to get Agnes to discover another secret that the world had to offer and broaden her already endless imagination.

His life included more people, but the company was one he enjoyed. His house was louder, but he loved the noises. Waking to the little pitter-patter of feet, the laughter that bounced from wall to wall, the random songs. He loved it when he went to sit on his crocodile couch and found Margo there as well, reading a book. He loved it when he walked to the stairs and had to swoop in order to catch Edith, who thought it would be a great idea to slide down the banister on a skateboard. And he loved finding Agnes when he went to watch the news, sitting on a pink mat with tiny pink cups and suddenly the worlds villains and heists on television took a back seat to a tea party with his youngest daughter.

He loved having little helpers in the kitchen, with Margo supervising, Edith making a mess of the flour and Agnes trying with all her might to try and shape the batter in the pan, claiming that she would be just as good as he was one day.

Gru had never had people look up to him before. But now three pairs of eyes, every day, stared at him with such amazement, trust and love.

Gru had never had love before.

It would be difficult at times- his dreams had been shifted and his plans were usually put aside. Other things had suddenly taken control of his life and there was new meaning to everything he did. On the days that he hated being a parent, he simply reminded himself that the job was not what he had to love. It was the people that had labeled him as parent that was the obligation. And he did. Undeniably, unconditionally, undoubtedly loved with every fiber of his evil being.

He loved Margo and her insight.

He loved Edith and her spark.

He loved Agnes and her dreams.

And they loved him.

And with that in mind, those tremendously huge, noisy, expensive, quick, destructive, girly, childish changes turned into perfect, exiting, incredible, beautiful, imaginative, permanent changes.

His mother's appreciation, evil plots and plans to rule the world were second place to that fact. Because he was nothing without them. And as long as he had them and they loved him then the world was right and good.

"Daddy?" His head turned from the blueprint he'd been staring down at, focusing instead on the tiny figure standing awkwardly in the doorway of the large kitchen.

"Agnes? Keeten, vhat are you doing up?"

"I had a nightmare... You weren't there and Miss Hattie found us. An' I couldn't find you. You weren't in your room." she shifted, the linoleum cold on her bare feet. Her large brown eyes trying not to close as they bore into his own blue ones, sleep causing her to teeter slightly in place.

He stared at her for a moment, and then at the blueprint of his latest heist. A few more hours and he might have it all planned, finished and ready to execute. He had been prepared to pull an all nighter. Something that, one year ago, would have been so easy to do. Life was so much more productive when it came to work one year ago.

He smiled.

He was sort of glad that it wasn't anymore.

With quick fingers, the blueprint was rolled, the rubber band stretched and fit over with a sharp twang. He rose, stretched until his back popped, and then walked over to his youngest who raised her tiny arms. He picked her up, fitting her as if a puzzle piece against his side.

"Den we weel fix. Do you wan't to go back to bed or-"

"No," Agnes shook her head violently; the broccoli stalk swishing as she did, and her tiny fists clung to his sweater. "I wanna sleep with you." Brown eyes met blue, terrified of rejection. "...Can I sleep with you, Daddy?"

"Of course, keeten," he began to climb the stairs, one at a time.

"You'll... you aren' gonna leave... righ- right?" she said between yawns, her head lolling onto his shoulder. She was desperately fighting sleep- an adorable endeavor. As much as she could in her sleep drunken state, she raised one tiny finger. "Pinky promise."

Gru was a man who had had much as a villain. He'd had the glory, the bragging rights, the fame. But he'd never had the love, and he hadn't cared. And somehow, now, he couldn't imagine going back to a time without it. With one digit upon their hands, his children looked up at him and believed everything he said. They trusted him, and when their eyes fell on him he realized that they truly believed he could do anything. An no one had ever looked at him like that before.

Some nights Gru hated being a parent. But never once, he realized, had it ever crossed his mind that he might hate the people who made the job description his. And for no moon would he ever, for one moment, give that up.

He locked their fingers together before giving his youngest kitten a kiss on the top of her head. "Never, Agnes. I'll never leave. You are stuck wit' me."

"Like... peanut butter an' jelly?"

He had to suppress a laugh. "Exactly like peanut butter and jellee. Now, ees time for bed." He reached the top of the stairs, moving towards his room.

"Okay..." she was almost asleep. But she managed to lean forward and place a tiny kiss on his cheek. Gru paused, stunned. "I... I l-love... you... Daddy..." she breathed, forehead finally falling against his shoulder, light snores beginning to emit from her person.

And for that one moment, observing the girl in his arms with a sort of amazement, Gru wondered how he had ever lived without them.

Yes... sometimes he hated being a parent. But he supposed that he also totally and completely loved it too.

And with that in mind, Gru checked on his other two daughters, finding them both still asleep, and then, smiling to himself, went off to bed.

And that's it! First one done! And I am proud of it!

Again, don't forget to read and review! The next oneshot is either going to be Agnes or Margo, I haven't quite decided yet.

I'll update as soon as possible!

Ciao peeps!

~Gal