#let's have some halloween shenanigans

[twilighttheater-archive]

@heroftruth - X because post editor

He chuckles listening to her gripes, he knows how much she hates being here but he can't deny the relief that it gives him for the time being. Relief that she was quick to point out in fact, and he jokingly sighed. "Oh woe is you, doctor's orders to keep out of trouble with your local ice dragon for a couple of weeks."

He can't help another snicker, moving one hand that had been holding her close to play with a few stray strands of her hair. "I know you hate it, I'll try to help make it as bearable as possible for you. Before you know it you'll be back out trying to mediate for them, and training with your team."

He notices the fact her eyes are fluttering shut however, and his voice quiets further. "When you're back on your feet, maybe I'll join you for that last one in fact. It's been a minute since we've had time to battle, huh? I think that would be an exciting comeback."

"Not a prompt for you to try to speed through recovery though, mind you." At this point he's just talking to fill the space, trying to make this feel as close to being at home as possible. In hopes it may help her finally get the rest that she needs.

[jjenthusee]

🎃 Halloween Shenanigans 🎃

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: In preparation for October, I wanted to write some small Halloween drabbles that seemed so hilarious in my mind ☺️ ENJOY :) leave any comments and reblog <3

Tags: lame jason makes me giggle, unhinged jason, clingy jason??

Check out Pt. 2 here!

“You can’t be serious.” You eyed Jason up and down, judgement written all over your face.

He stood in his full Red Hood gear, holsters strapped on his legs, helmet shined, and leather jacket worn.

“What? It’s perfect.” He stood up from the edge of the bed, walking closer to you.

“It’s a Halloween event and you’re dressed up as yourself?!” You felt the vein popping up in your head. “I thought you were supposed to keep your identity…oh, I don’t know…hidden?”

“I’ve done it before, no one bats an eye. Heh, ya get it?” Jason chuckles at his accidental lame joke.

You raised an eyebrow, he was not taking any of the concern seriously.

“Sweets, it’s fine. Have you seen how many shitty Robin and Nightwing outfits there are? There’s nothing to worry about.”

—

“You take that back!” Jason pointed a finger at the stranger testing his patience for the night.

“No! Your costume sucks!” A little boy dressed in a Robin costume yelled back at Jason. The small domino mask on his face slowly slipping from his nose the longer he raised his voice. Their difference in height was laughable if it weren’t for Jason arguing with a literal child. “You painted the Red Hood symbol wrong and your jacket sucks too!”

You were feeling a headache itching into your head.

“What?! Kid, I’m the real fuc—“

“Okay! Okay, my friend here has had too much candy for the night.” You yelled louder before Jason could finish his sentence, glaring at him before you turned around back to the young child.

“Friend?!” You heard Jason yell from behind your back as you crouched, he was getting more offended by the second.

“Hush!” You harshly whispered back to your boyfriend.

After you were eye-level with the kid, you promised to let him rummage in your bag of candy. Letting him pick out anything from the selection while Jason paced back and forth murmuring to himself at the disadvantage he was in.

The boy was actually a nice kid as he told you about how his dad helped him sew the costume together. He was yapping away in his excitement as he took one of the full-sized candy bars that you brought to give out to other kids.

“I died and this is what I have to deal with? How about you take a crowbar—“

You swung your head back while the kid was distracted, frowning at the large man behind you. He immediately didn’t finish his thought at your unamused look, but instead settled for crossing his arms across his chest as he glared down the boy still talking to you.

Before the boy left, he told you he had lost his dad before he ended up at your front door.

Once you calmed the kid down and promised to help, Jason followed you out to try to find the boy’s dad, but there was still unsettled tension in the sudden enemies who walked next to you as you searched.

Every time Jason tried to get closer to you, the kid switched sides holding onto your hand, becoming a tiny barrier in between the two of you.

You kept your head forward, not acknowledging the two fighting behind you as the kid stuck out his tongue and Jason subtly trying to whisper back insults.

Once you found the father, you were finally relieved. You were receiving thanks from the boy’s dad before Jason kneeled down to see the boy at eye level. They stared at one another as they seemed to be having a semi-friendly conversation.

You eyed the two while you finished your conversation, not believing them to be suddenly getting along.

“You better watch your back.” Jason quietly talked.

“You’re not scary.” The boy glared, his expression not seen from where you stood.

“What’s wrong with the kids these days?” Jason murmured under is breath. “My gear—costume isn’t lame.”

“It’s lame. You don’t even have your guns. Red Hood has guns.”

With a large sigh from Jason and your side glance burning the side of his head, he gave in as you wondered what the two of them were talking about.

“I’ll buy you a large soda and another big candy bar if you hug me, so I don’t get yelled at later.”

“Two sodas.” The child negotiated.

“You’re pushing it, kid.” In one tilt of his helmet, Jason watched you smile to the man. “Deal.”

When you looked back, the two supposedly bickering enemies were embraced in a friendly hug. You watched in confusion, but the boy’s dad was cooing at how well they got along.

“Say ‘You’re so cool’ and you’ll get two candy bars.” Jason whispered at the side of the boys head while they still hugged.

The kid loudly yells his words, mimicking an excited tone.

“Oh, you two get along so well, thank you for finding my son. You two lovebirds enjoy your night.” The dad left with his son and his large haul of candy and other sweets.

You watched as they walked away in the opposite direction of your home.

The Red Hood standing next to you was surprisingly quiet, no quick remark or other insult.

Before you were about to grab Jason’s waist to turn around, the small figure caught your eye.

While you half held Jason, you watched as the young boy stuck out his tongue in one final jab at the man in your arms.

“You little—I can’t believe that lil’ shit got free candy outta me.” Jason puffed, finally deciding to raise the white flag of surrender.

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your face. A gentle laugh leaving you as you couldn’t see your boyfriend pout, but you knew him so well that you could imagine it under the helmet.

You nudged Jason, guiding him into a walk back to your home.

He had squeezed you by the shoulder, letting his arm rest around you and you reciprocated a loose arm around his waist.

“How much money did u lose on the kid?” You grabbed onto his gloved hand hanging in the air, intertwining your fingers. The momentum of your steps pushing you into a leisure stroll.

“$10 and so many snacks. Lil’ fucker knows how to negotiate.” Jason spoke through gritted teeth.

You laughed into the night air, remembering the image of them glaring at one another.

“You met your match tonight, Mr. Red Hood.” You smirked.

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Drabble #4

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader (This is a Namkook x Reader centric drabble!)

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 3.4k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Prompt; Trouvaille Namkook x Reader, snapshot of a random paranormal investigation (Halloween edition!)

Long time no chat! I hope you all like use this little drabble to help through the Trouvaille hiatus :) We've got some ghostbusting shenanigans in this drabble! I love this trio (and missed them so so much!) There's a slight fright factor for this fall season (spooky setting, jumpscares, grabbing) But fluff and some cheekiness there as well. Chat soon and I love and miss you all! <3

“You’re a filthy liar,” Y/N refused to budge from her passenger side seat, even with the expectant looking hybrid flicking her tights-clad kneecap. “This is not a new dive bar. You can go. I’m staying here.”

“The wolf has already driven all the way into the city, Y/N. Might as well see what we can stir up,” Jeongguk, in a recent attempt to cut back on smoking, stuck a toothpick into the corner of his mouth. Y/N wondered if he truly had an oral fixation. “Come on. You’re always going on and on about ‘spooky vibes’ ‘halloween spirit’ ‘doing seasonal activities’, all that shit. Now that I’m taking you up on that, you’re backing down?”

Y/N bit her lip, cornered and effectively silenced. Sensing her defeat, Jeongguk stepped aside, allowing Y/N to slither from her seat and the warmth of Namjoon’s van. She wasn’t planning to traipse around a weathered and dark graveyard days before Halloween– rather, she was in a skirt, heeled boots, and a delicate off-the-shoulder sweater, meant for slinking around a cozy bar. Immediately, the crispness of October evening air had a shudder rolling down her spine, and the haunted-looking cemetery beyond Jeongguk’s leather-clad shoulder wasn’t helping, either. 

“Look at you, Bambi. You already have the camera bag,” Y/N muttered, somewhat mourning the loss of getting tipsy with him and Namjoon that evening. Despite the nickname, Jeongguk’s antlers were completely absent, only the two vaguest spots of calcification present over the spots where the bones usually sprouted from visible. 

Jeongguk hummed like he hadn’t heard her, double checking the batteries on his flashlight. Y/N, rubbing her arms for warmth, scanned the graveyard. It appeared that they were alone, which Y/N chalked up to people actually celebrating in the new dive bar Y/N was supposed to be at that moment. About to open her mouth to complain, her posture went rigid when a heavy garment, laden with rich scent and crushing warmth, was draped over her caved-in shoulders from behind. 

“The least you could have done was tell her to dress to be outside,” Namjoon spoke to Jeongguk through gritted teeth, watching the girl in front of him nearly dissolve into pieces in response to the jacket he offered her.

 Y/N promptly maneuvered her limbs into Namjoon’s sherpa and denim jacket, not even feeling badly that the wolf hybrid sacrificed it to her as she let his smell and body heat curl around her. No matter how gruff his voice registered to the ear, Namjoon had an undeniable concern for those he cared about. 

“Thanks, Joon,” Namjoon’s jacket was somewhat akin to a safety blanket, drowning Y/N’s figure and making her feel like a cake topper next to the tall wolf hybrid. 

Jeongguk had already wandered off on his own, and it was hard to make him out in the darkness since he was both dressed in all black and he had shed his antlers again. 

“I swear, I wasn’t in on this. Your outfit isn’t warm enough, and obviously being here is making you uncomfortable,” Namjoon lamented, Y/N snorting at his insistence of his innocence. 

“I’ll be fine. Just hold my hand,” Y/N reached for her wolf hybrid, hooking her index and middle fingers around his thumb and shivering at the spark that resulted in the contact.

Namjoon made a noise in the back of his throat. Not moments prior, Y/N clocked the way Namjoon’s ears drooped sideways: he was uneasy, too. Her wolf hybrid was amongst the bravest of her boys, but with the amount of intense horror movies Jeongguk was making her and Namjoon watch that week, Y/N thought his trepidation was quite a natural outcome.

“You suspect I’m going to trip on something, don’t you?” Namjoon grunted resentfully, though he adjusted his grip swiftly so the entirety of Y/N’s hand was completely engulfed by his. 

“Watch your step. If she goes down with you, you’ll fucking crush her,” Jeongguk called back, Namjoon’s chest rumbling deeply– while simultaneously squeezing Y/N’s fingers in a vice. “Wait. You have something to record audio with, right?”

“He thinks it’s amateur hour,” Namjoon seethed, jaw pulsing when he waved his Walkman around for the elk hybrid to see.

 “Jeongguk, this is too much. It’s cold and damp out here, why can’t we just go to the bar?” Y/N complained, attempting to save her evening of dodging shadows and being smothered by her wolfish security detail. “We can come back during the day, when the sun can warm us…”

“I’ve told you, Y/N, your pouting doesn’t work on me. You’ll be glad we did this, you know,” Jeongguk replied promptly, speaking around the toothpick in his mouth. Y/N scowled at him, watching her elk hybrid bend to his knees to set up a tripod by a crumbling monument. 

“What are you even looking for tonight, hmm? The spirit of Sam Adams?” Y/N let Namjoon tug her along with defeat, though her mood brightened when she earned chuckles from both of her hybrids. 

“Yeah, I bet you two would love that,” Even under the darkness of night, Y/N could see Jeongguk’s wide eyes rolling back. She was just putting on a show, standing stiffly beside Namjoon with her lip jutting out in a false pout, but by some Samhain miracle, Jeongguk physically seemed to soften in response. “Give me like, an hour of your time. The bar will still be open after.”

“Oh, really?” Y/N cheered, relieved that Jeongguk wouldn’t be conducting a four hour long investigation. “You promise?”

Letting go of Namjoon so the wolf hybrid could place his recording device on a nearby boulder, Y/N gently smacked her chilly palms against Jeongguk’s cheeks and pressed. The action had his lips puckering, the hoop through his lower lip pressed against her thumb, and his eyes as wide and round as they could possibly get. His tapered ears fluttered and stilled, like caught prey, and without his antlers, Jeongguk looked a lot like his least-favorite nickname. 

“Leggo ‘e,” Jeongguk attempted to talk with his lips still pursed, one of his inked hands wrapping around her wrist once the shock wore off. Grinning, Y/N released the elk hybrid, who inelegantly rocked backwards– ass landing on the heels of his combat boots. “You gotta stop doing that outta nowhere.”

“But you look so cute when I surprise you… so no, I won’t stop,” Y/N stuck her tongue out at him, his camera sitting in his lap, forgotten. “Okay, you’re on the clock. 58 minutes left and I’m out of here.”

Shivering like he was trying to shake off tension, Jeongguk squared his shoulders and resumed adjusting his camera. Fortunately, the dimness of the evening saved Jeongguk from being caught with reddened cheeks. 

“What’s my task tonight?” Y/N straightened up, suddenly paranoid she was standing on a grave. 

“Honestly?” Jeongguk cocked his head, expression turning wry again. 

“God help me. Yes, honestly.”

“You’re kinda here as bait. Since you’re witchy and all these dead guys weren’t really okay with that,” Jeongguk admitted, Y/N’s jaw hanging loose. 

“Oh, spectacular. Did you bring some rope to tie me to a stake and light a match? Maybe you’ll attract the apparition of Cotton Mather!” Y/N growled, pretending to paw through the elk hybrid’s equipment bag for a yard of rope. 

“Jeongguk, this is a new low, even for you,” Namjoon interjected, placing a heavy palm on Y/N’s shoulder– protective alpha wolf tendencies. “I’ll stay with you, Y/N. You can do the audio with me.”

“But…” Jeongguk hummed, Namjoon’s fluffy gray ears twitching in agitation. “If she’s alone, she’ll probably get better results herself. Just sayin’.”

“Unfortunately, he’s right. Whatever. I’ll walk around for a bit and just feel things out, okay? And you are so using your money from the last investigation to buy me a basket of fries at the bar after,” Y/N was able to cut Namjoon off before a spat occurred, hoping her carefully constructed “messy” going out updo wasn’t a pigeon’s nest by then. 

Muttering, she swiped a recording device from Jeongguk’s bag, marching off in no particular direction to avoid Jeongguk’s smug grin– and Namjoon’s raised hackles. The chunky heels of the boots she was wearing were sinking into the mud and grass as she walked, making sure to stick to the main paths winding through the cemetery. 

It was somewhat of a challenge to not be creeped out, Y/N definitely picking up on spiritual energy and the thinning of the veil during Samhain, so entities could more easily communicate with the living. Additionally, the lack of her physically intimidating wolf hybrid posing as a bodyguard glued to her side had her flinching at the slightest of sounds. 

The graveyard was large enough that she couldn’t hear Jeongguk or Namjoon asking their usual investigation questions, which wasn’t comforting, either. Swallowing, Y/N switched her recorder on, slowly passing by a tomb with a weeping stone angel affixed to the top. There was a bench beneath an oak tree, looking over the cemetery, where Y/N decided to pause and take a crack at an interview. With Namjoon’s jacket wrapped around her snugly, she relaxed a tad when she could smell his scent. 

As always, she started with breaking the ice– not by giving out her name, of course– listening to the static coming through the device sitting in her lap. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to interpret any of the audio until she and Namjoon hooked it up to his production program, so really Y/N was having a one-sided conversation in a field full of the unseen dead. All the while, she kept one eye on her watch, finally switching off the recorder after 40 minutes of repetitive questioning. Though the sherpa-lined denim jacket she was loaned kept her top half warm, her nearly bare legs were chilly and she was ready to drag Jeongguk to the van by one of his Bambi ears. 

Oddly enough, beams cutting through fog from two other flashlights were nowhere to be found once Y/N stood from the old bench. Chewing her lip, anxiety began to tighten her chest as she debated whether or not to call out either of their names. On one hand, Jeongguk would be pissed if she interrupted a recording of his, and on the other, Namjoon’s fury would be cold and quiet if he found out she didn’t call for him when she was scared. Neither outcome seemed desirable, and put her in a tight spot. Typical. 

Deciding to just meet her two hybrids at the front gates, close to the van and the well-lit street, Y/N picked up the pace and retraced her steps as best she could. Acutely more aware of her surroundings without knowing exactly where her companions were, Y/N was at least grateful she was up-to-date on all of her spiritual protection, so were the missing hybrids. Even still, there was that eerie sensation of being followed nagging at her. 

Though every instinct in her was begging to break out into a full sprint, when she heard wet gravel squelching behind her Y/N immediately paused; like a rabbit frozen in the face of a predator. Holding her breath, her mind automatically began to loop protective phrases, the only thing audible being the blood rushing in her ears. Was there a rustling in the nearly-bare trees, or were there whispers coming from behind her? Balling up her fists, Y/N geared up to make a purposeful beeline to the gate– which was almost in sight– however, she only made it about two steps before a yelp from her pierced the quiet night sky. 

Wiry, cold fingertips from behind dove into the base of her updo, nimbly grasping the hair stick holding everything together just to yank it free. Two things shocked Y/N the most: first, the weight of her hair falling around her, and the ping of the hair stick clattering to the gravel. All things happening in a matter of nanoseconds, Y/N’s brain processed so slowly that she was defenseless. 

As soon as she yelped and her body began to flinch, two strong arms wrapped tightly around her middle, a large body crooking over hers. Utter horror crashed down over her head, and she was positive she was screaming bloody murder as the grip on her waist got stronger. 

“Boo,” a pair of warm– not ghostly– lips grazed the shell of her ear, and Y/N choked on air, a breeze rolling by bringing a familiar scent along with it. “Gotcha right before you ate shit on the grass, too.”

Jeongguk’s presence wasn’t instantly recognizable because his leather and musk scent was lacking the usual tobacco edge, since he wasn’t smoking as much. The fear that took over was promptly replaced by astonishment and fury, and Y/N began to fight her way out of Jeongguk’s embrace, his deep chuckle in her ear. In retaliation, she scraped her nails over the tattoos clasped over her sides, his forearms actually overlapping on themselves due to squeezing her so hard, making him laugh louder. 

“Let GO, Jeongguk! You scared the piss out of me! Let go!” Y/N’s struggles were futile against the hybrid’s brute strength, so she pretended to go limp so he’d let her go. With a snarl, she realized he was probably giggling at her heart thundering in her chest. “What the fuck? I thought you were a rapist!”

“Do you really think anything could happen to you while we’re here? Please,” Jeongguk scoffed, the sharp point of his nose nudging her earlobe playfully. “Again. Weren’t you the one who encouraged scary pranks this time of year, kiddo?”

“Ugh. Get off,” Y/N groaned, her cheeks flaming. All of her boys had a magical ability to talk her out of being annoyed with them, and they all knew it. “You owe me two drinks now, the basket of Cajun fries, and I get to smush your face whenever I want, no complaints.”

“Sure…” Jeongguk eased himself off of Y/N slowly, ignoring the red scrapes marring the back of his hands. “I’ll add it to the list of your requests, your highness.”

“Fuckin’ little shit,” Y/N grit her teeth, finding it unfairly devastating how insanely hot he looked, cocky and satisfied, his dark eyes somehow still sparkling at night. “We’re going. I wouldn’t blame Namjoon if he left you here, you know.”

“Thinking about it,” a new voice joined the conversation, though it was low to the ground. Casting a look towards her feet, Y/N watched her wolf hybrid bend and gingerly pluck her forgotten hair pick from the gravel. “I take back my earlier statement. This is the new low, Jeongguk.”

Y/N was about to violently nod in agreement as Namjoon stood, towering over her, but something made her eyes narrow as she glanced up at him. Jeongguk, now an onlooker, tried to school his expression when Y/N gave Namjoon a deliberate once-over, the girl even stepping away to get a full view. The elk hybrid had to bite on his fist in order to be successful. 

“Hold it. You said you weren’t in on this!”

“I’m not!” Namjoon’s eyes went wide, Y/N snatching her hair stick from him suspiciously. Blinking rapidly, the wolf hybrid pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, awkwardly shifting the gear bag higher up onto his thick shoulder. 

“Joon. Your left ear is droopy, and your tail is stiff. Besides, you keep fiddling with your glasses and your voice is all high like when you’re nervous in public. You knew he was gonna pop out on me like that,” Y/N listed off, ticking each point on a finger pad. To distract her, Namjoon made a quiet, pitiful canine whine, offering the hair stick to her as a peace offering– but Y/N wasn’t easily bought. “Joonie. You’re sweating.”

“S… so?” Namjoon spluttered, forcing himself to look into Y/N’s eyes. Sucking in his cheeks, Namjoon made a last-ditch effort to seem innocent before releasing a ragged sigh. “Aw, come on, sta–”

“March your butt to the driver’s seat before I peel out of here myself,” Y/N cut Namjoon off with (an admittedly adorable) huff, stomping in the direction of the van and not wanting to hear Namjoon’s term of endearment for her while she was still ticked. 

Jeongguk, at that point, couldn’t help but snicker wickedly, brushing past Namjoon in triumph. That, and the sight of Y/N storming away, being nearly eaten alive by Namjoon’s coat, was quite the sight. 

“Do… Do you still want to go to the bar?” Namjoon asked delicately, once he stumbled into his seat in the van, the equipment bag stuffed hastily behind him. The grunt coming from the booth told Y/N Namjoon might have aimed it too close to Jeongguk’s shin. 

“Yes,” Y/N replied haughtily, still feeling the heavy grip Jeongguk had on her. He had been bulking up for the winter… “You guys are mean. I meant to prank each other, not me.”

“That sounds a little unfair, no? Can’t take the heat or something?” 

“You guys are pulling fast ones over me constantly, 12 months a year. Can’t take the heat? Please. I’m a champ,” Y/N accused, sticking her tongue out at Jeongguk in the back seat. He just smirked knowingly, which had Y/N’s mind going in the direction his probably was, eliciting a sharp cough from her throat. “Fine. I guess I should be a good sport, I’m the one who started this.” 

With that, Y/N began to get a little too warm, so she began to unbutton Namjoon’s jacket to strip it from her. Her ears perked up instantly when Namjoon began to growl softly, sending a spark of excitement through her. The mood developing was starkly different than the one that had just dissipated, one wired and charged, and there was no doubt the two hybrids felt it with a certain heightened intensity.

“Keep it on. It’ll be cold at the bar,” Namjoon requested, the gruff authority making her spine straighten out instinctively. However, petulance won. 

“No, there will be a ton of people in there. I don’t want to be hot,” Y/N refused, deciding to ignore the two of them filling the van with their intensity by flicking through her phone. Namjoon didn’t like his protective (possessive?) requests to be denied, and Jeongguk didn’t like to be ignored. Y/N, truthfully, was still aggravated; neither of them apologized for plotting to terrify her. 

The bar was only around the block, so she didn’t ice them out for too long. In the five minutes it took for Namjoon to find a parking spot, she could tell he was feeling remorseful due to the sad thumping of his tail against the car door when he hastily opened it for her, his ears sideways. From that position, she was nearly eye-level with him, and he was brave enough to drink in her expression. 

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“Make it up to me?”

Namjoon perked up just a degree, looking down at her through his eyelashes. Millions of possibilities flooded through the wolf hybrid’s mind, but conscious of the fact that he was blocking half of a sidewalk, he made a decision. With an arm around her waist, Namjoon helped her out of the van, and before she was too stable on her feet, he pressed his lips to the center of her forehead gently. Y/N hummed lightly, too pleasantly surprised to be embarrassed several pairs of eyes were on her. 

“‘M sorry we scared you,” Namjoon murmured, his chin resting on the crown of her head, body awkwardly bent. Giggling, she ruffled his starlight hair, Jeongguk interrupting by sliding the side door open. “Let’s go in. I’ll buy you the first drink.”

“Hey, that’s supposed to be me,” Jeongguk spun on the heel of his combat boot, already at the bar’s entrance. The sound of rock music and jovial conversation pulsed from behind the door. “Yeah. Sorry, kiddo.”

“Okay, okay, I forgive you. Hey, let Namjoon go in first. His height parts crowds, we’ll get to the bar faster,” Y/N yanked Jeongguk back by his belt loop, Namjoon shouldering by with reddened ear tips and his dimples creating deep craters in his cheeks. 

“After yo–”

Y/N stopped holding the door open when Jeongguk placed a hand on the wall beside her face, reached up to boop her nose, and then leaned in to whisper: 

“I’m only sorry I didn’t film your reaction.”

“Oh, you motherfucker!”

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 13/04

@bladekindeyewear submitted: You've noticed something important: Everyone seems to have come down with the SAME items that John gave them on their birth meteors. That means that excluding some incredible shenanigans, the ectobiology that created the kids only happened ONCE, and we're unlikely to see some weird repeat. John did it. In his session. Before the Scratch. Have you noticed the problem yet? In the Trolls' session, all of the ectobiology was done by KARKAT. In a session we now know was a POST-SCRATCH one. p=4053:

The Pre-Scratch trolls were forced to invoke the Scratch to even be BORN. And Lord English is somehow responsible. And this is apparently Lord English's "calling card". Utterly terrifying.

Yup. English's 'already-hereness' applies to more than just his physical presence, it seems!

Anonymous asked: I believe I sent an ask some time ago, regarding my eagerness towards seeing you take on my favorite character. At the time, I noted that their introduction was still a ways off, but now the moment is just about at hand and I couldn't possibly be more thrilled. Happy blogging, and welcome to Act 6! ^u^

Thank you! You're presumably talking about one of the new Players, and their introduction has certainly been a lot of fun for me so far. For the first time in forever, we're getting a new set of protagonists!

@sanctferum asked: seems like nobody has mentioned it yet, but 10/25, the day Cascade came out (and one of Homestuck's arc numbers, with 1025 being what you get when adding 413 and 612 together), was christened "Gristmas" by the fandom. Intermission 2, meanwhile, was (very fittingly) a Halloween upd8. Act 6 started on 11/11/11, so the arc number there is various configurations of 1 or 11. Truly the most important thing to happen on 11/11/11 and let neither man nor tod say otherwise.

Gristmas is pretty great - and thank you, I'll keep an eye out for long strings of ones. I imagine that we'll be seeing one on Jane's Cruxtruder, at the very least.

Anonymous asked: I'm surprised that no one pointed out that Hussie describing the story of the Troll Ancestors as Fanfiction is actually an accurate accusation In-Universe. As after, Doc Scratch took the trolls' original story, and rewrote it into how he wanted it to go. Anonymous asked: If you think about it, since Scratch is responsible for Alternia being such a hellhole when it originally wasn't, it is technically his "troll fanfiction".

Oh, I like that. Scratch is, after all, both the instigator and the narrator of the Ancestors' fucked-up lives, which does indeed put him in a position akin to that of a fanfiction writer. This Scratch-as-author stuff has layers, huh?

@manorinthewoods asked: If it was Bec's put-Jade-to-bed instincts that caused her revival, then Vriska's abuse of Jade to practice her powers on humans was the reason Jade survived Act 5. ~LOSS (9/1/24)

Good point, actually - but fucking hell, don't tell her that. You already know how insufferable she'd be about it.

Anonymous asked: Unsure if it was simply not mentioned, but in case you missed it there are two other messages on Jane's computer: Submit and Cease Reproduction

So there are.

CEASE REPRODUCTION, in particular, makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it. After all, I doubt the Condesce actually wants to rule over humanity; instead, she probably wants to exterminate them, so that they can be replaced with a brand-new cohort of trolls.

@joyfulldreams asked: Detective Pony is absolutely a masterwork of fanfiction. It has the original version on AO3, an equally excellent podfic by NakedBee, and then the podfic was later adapted by NakedBee into a full feature-length film. It has basically Legend status and in some ways has been partially(???) canonized because of how widely regarded it is by the fandom at large to be Legit. There is also a similar fic called Theatre of Coolty, a fanfic written in the format of a play, which I believe was written by the same person who voice acted DS in the Detective Pony podfic (DuckFace, I think) which NakedBee adapted into a short film. Recommend watching Theatre of Coolty before touching Detective Pony, tbh, it's much shorter and more easily digestible. (Both are EXTREMELY DENSE TEXTS.) Also you probably shouldn't touch either until you've finished Act 6, unfortunately. Theatre of Coolty has a minor spoiler for something pretty late in Act 6, and while Detective Pony doesn't TECHNICALLY have any REAL spoilers as-is (the movie has visuals that could be considered more spoilery), the entire thing is basically a deep dive into DS's character and you really ought to understand DS better before getting into it. (You don't even know his name yet!) @creamcloud0 asked:I don't know if it's what you were implying in your tags but i would absolutely LOVE seeing your dissection of Detective Pony. @heliotropopause asked: since we're doing this, The Serendipity Gospels should now also be spoiler-free, though i haven't double-checked, nor read the unfinished act three that's only available on tumblr. and yeah, very much seconded on sonnetstuck's Detective Pony- it'd spoil DS's name if you read it right now, along with maybe one other thing that'll get revealed soon, but it should be fine to read quite soon, and is one of the absolute best fanworks i've ever read. there's also a very high quality hours-long puppet theatre video adaptation of it made by someone else, but the visuals there contain spoilers up to pretty much the very end of the comic. ben-guy asked: The detective pony fic is absolutely still full of spoilers, if only for later kid bro characterization @pechikka asked: Im gonna be real. I don't even think of Detective Pony as a fanwork. To me it's just part of Homestuck's extended quasicanon to the same degree the epilogues are, and a crucial part of how I read kid bro as a character. It's THAT spot on to the characters and themes of Homestuck itself and it's a fascinating read. For obvious reasons tho that does means I absolutely cannot recommend anyone read it until kid bro has been introduced and has had a long while to be established as a character. @publicuniversalworstie asked: Seconding the Detective Pony recommendation as hard as I can, but I'd recommend saving it for after you finish the main comic at least. It's essentially a D-Stri character study. @hussianphilosopher submitted: There's really only one Hussie quote that matters.

(Thirding or fourth-ing or fifth-ing the Detective Pony recs, though I would argue that you need to wait a while before you read it - you need to meet teen-Bro and have seen quite a bit of him to actually get what it's going for.) Hussie's commentary is really interesting and deserves to be read if you like the comic, but the most recent and (in my opinion) most enlightening parts pretty much assume that you've read the Epilogues. If and when you're ever interested it's all wrapped up in the Homestuck Unofficial Collection.

I'm moving Detective Pony up on the list, because this all sounds amazing. We already know from the Auto-Responder conversation that Kid Bro is a pretty weird dude, so a deep dive into his character via a horse girl parody sounds like a hell of a time.

As for The Serendipity Gospels, if I can vet it completely for spoilers, it might finally be time for my first fanfiction analysis. After all, I've been waiting for this one for years.

Anonymous asked: How many doomed timelines have Sally and Sahlee made from their continued insistence on trying to break the Incipisphere even after seeing how utterly fucked they'd be from attempting that?

Less than you'd think, honestly. They'd definitely make a few, especially in the first days of the session, but once they start to understand how Doomed Timelines worked, they'd probably try to ensure their experiments were less destructive.

That's not to say they'd stop trying to violate the Alpha Timeline - but it does mean they'd be smarter about it, potentially abusing systems like the Scratch to create some additional non-doomed timelines. I can't tell you where their experiments would lead, though - not until I'm more familiar with Sburb's deeplore myself.

@elkian asked: Obviously Jake types on the coat sleeves, Power Glove-style xD @thelegendofgreg-2 asked: "Jake, for god's sake. How are you typing on a coat?" I am choosing to believe right now as of this very moment that every single one of the rainbow flashing boxes on the lining of his coat is a teeny tiny computer screen, and he has a keyboard hidden under one of the arms of his coat It's very practical

I do think that the sleeves are the best choice here - but I also like the idea that his clawed slipper is an integral part of the setup, with buttons on the soles that he needs to shift his weight to press. A shift key, perhaps?

This thing's just so awesomely impractical. Grandma Jade was a real one.

@library-seraph asked: "Michael Cera's a strange choice for one of these portraits. He's neither a harlequin, nor a gentleman, and thus doesn't really fit Dad's normal aesthetic." This is a fandom injoke, actually. So many people joked that the guy wearing the groucho glasses in the egbert house's hallway looked like michael cera despite it not being him, that Hussie decided to shout out the meme

Ah, that makes sense.

Sometimes, I wonder how many of the comic's 'confusing' moments are actually fandom in-jokes that I don't have the context to understand. To get that context, I need these messages, so keep 'em coming!

Anonymous asked: it truly is like, the greatest jape of all that your blog popularity is coinciding with the tumblr fanbase popularity of homestuck

No kidding? I wasn't aware there was an uptick in the fandom's Tumblr presence, but I'm happy to hear it!

The last thing I want to do is finish the comic, stroll into the fandom, and discover that it died before I was ready to engage with it. Not that that wouldn't be kind of funny.

@elkian asked: Possibly one of the funniest things about the Alpha Reboot here is finding out Jane, of her familysquad if not the humans as a whole (depending on how sincere Rose was about her taxidermy Jaspers rage) who has a problem with embalment. Everyone else has been involved in the taxidermy or other preservation of some kind of corpse; I was gonna exclude Bro but then remembered the horsebib.

Jane, Homestuck's primary cast is all weird as fuck. You need to get with the program.

@abysswarlock asked: AR to Jake: “Here’s your problem”

Jake's response:

Anonymous asked: while not that big of a deal on the grand scheme of things, the revelation that rose gets her eloquence and wordiness from her father is perhaps my favorite revelation in all of hs.

I like it too! Based on what Bro was like with Dave, I expect his kidsona to be the strong, silent type, but - assuming he's as chatty as AR - I really like Hussie's decision to make him a yapper.

It feels right, somehow - and I hope it means that he's the one who wrote this session's GameFAQs guide.

Anonymous asked: One of my favorite bits of the Auto-responder's replys to Jake is the % of how close the responses are to Bro's goes down as Jake catches on, dude is having the time of his life messing with him

This guy really is hilarious. He's honestly going to be a pretty tough act for the real Little Bro to follow.

Anonymous asked: ive sent an ask like this in the early days. but il say i have never been so extraordinarily possessed by a 2014 era fan of homestuck in its UPD8 era than i have been waiting all these days for the D Stri inteoduction chatlog. for reasons i am almost betting many may have expressed in this inbox already Anonymous asked: Every update you post convinces me harder that you're going to absolutely love kid bro Anonymous asked: So fucking excited for you to start analyzing kid bro it has me twirling my hair. I barely even have enough hair to twirl this is a high compliment. So excited

...that said, people have pretty high hopes for the impression he's going to make!

I'm sure that whatever vibe I get from him, one thing is already clear: he's clearly recognized as the post-Scratch kid, the Vriska of his team. His introduction is getting the most hype of any character outside of Hivebent.

Anonymous asked: "Though we adore Him we shall never enjoy His beauteous croak. We spill our blood on acres of black and white so they may cross the yellow yard. At last in Skaia's reflection through broken glass He may find the pond in which he's meant to squat." - A Prospitan book in [S] Seer: Descend.

Hey, you're right - this passage does make a lot more sense in retrospect. I guess the implication here is that Jade's frog might still be the designated Genesis Frog in the post-Scratch session...

This gels well with Umbra's earlier statement implying that Jade & co. will be slotted into the new session as Players. It also means the post-Scratch humans might not need a Space Player, since Jade can still fill that role as before.

...yeah, it's looking more and more likely that Jane's team will wield completely different Aspects to their predecessors. I honestly prefer this to the alternative, since it'll allow us to get up close and personal with four Aspects that we've previously only seen in the abridged Hivebent session - or, potentially, four Aspects we've never seen at all.

Anonymous asked: "Poppop in the attic" is a reference to the TV show Arrested Development. In one episode, Michael Cera's character is harboring his fugitive grandfather in the attic of his home. He attempts to inform his dad but he misinterprets "poppop" as a euphemism for sex or masturbation. @skelekingfeddy asked: ‘the mere fact you call it that tells him youre not ready’ is just reference to arrested development lol. basically the kid michael cera plays is hiding his grandpa/‘poppop’ in the attic away from the feds. later he tries to tell his dad but due to earlier misunderstandings he thinks ‘poppop’ is actually referring to having sex with his girlfriend. and so he tells michael cera ‘the mere fact you call making love poppop tells me youre not ready’ the auto-responder's line ‘since we've already shot that wad's eventuality on so many dry runs of flustered ambivalence’ is also an arrested development reference, albeit a much more subtle one (the original line is just ‘i prematurely shot my wad on what was supposed to be a dry run if you will’) @random2908 asked: Maybe others mentioned this already, but the stuff about Poppop and the attic is a quote from the tv show Arrested Development. There's a bit where Poppop is hiding in the attic, only Michael Cera knows he's there, and his father is trying to give him a sex talk and misinterprets "poppop" as a euphemism. It's been a while, but IIRC Hussie makes a few Arrested Development references in early Act 6; fans speculated at the time that they must have just watched the show for the first time.

Ah. I've never seen Arrested Development myself, so it's kind of wild to see a teenage Michael Cera for the first time. People say he has a baby face now, but he actually was a baby, here.

Anonymous asked: The dads aren't clones their eyes are completely different colors :P

Turns out one of them's left-handed, and that's literally the only difference.

@wickedsick asked: RoLal my beloLal @morganwick asked: "Huh, we're approaching the halfway mark of the comic and I haven't met Roxy yet. I mean, I'm pretty sure it's Mom Lalonde's name, but it hasn't come up. How could she make such an impact that I'd have heard her name before starting Homestuck despite only really appearing in half- oh. That's how." @abundantchewtoys asked: You try to control yourself and not overhype Roxy, but the S-tier on your tierlist… it beckons. @necrowyrm asked: So hyped for you to get to know Roxy, the greatest character in homestuck by a mile @elkian asked: God I'm so excited for you to meet Roxy. I'm pretty sure you'll love her for multiple reasons.

I can't wait! Like I said, I think she's very likely to be one of my faves. Hackers play with with an unfair advantage in the Sally Sweepstakes.

@manorinthewoods submitted: https://www.tumblr.com/darks-arts/757253456235053056/got-inspired-by-this-post-n-made-a-new-troll?source=share ~LOSS (1/15/25)

Don't get it twisted - this is who the Condesce picks as her VP.

@mrjocrafter asked: Any Bro Strider (and to some extent every Strider) analysis needs to be tempered by the acknowledgement that that's just what Texas is like. Like, one time I saw someone hold up a self-driving taxi at sword point. Texas is just like that.

Apart from a three-day childhood trip to New York City, the USA is a closed book to me - but I've heard enough wild shit about Texas that I don't think you're kidding.

@carcinogeneticist-writes-fanfic submitted: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IuNgQEWgjwk Submitted for your approval: a full orchestra cover of Sburban Jungle. Possibly my favorite fan work of one of my favorite homestuck songs. Really captures that epic feel of the original song.

Dang. This fire burns hotter than the Green Sun.

@dedicatedfollower467 asked: i'm sure lots of people will have told you this, OR you will have figured it out yourself by the time you read this, but where DNA uses guanine, cytosine, adenine and thymine to represent information, its counterpart, RNA, actually uses a base called uracil in place of thymine. Meaning that uranianUmbra manages to both break the troll/kids naming pattern AND fit in it, in a slightly different way. UwU Anonymous asked: Concerning UU: Uracil (U) is a nucleotide that replaces Thymine (T) in RNA, which makes UU an -- at least in theory -- valid base pair. Compare this to how their chat symbol is a caduceus, and the constellation Ophiucus (traditionally, Apollo battling a pair of serpents) is sometimes considered the thirteenth Zodiacal sign. Anonymous asked: Fun Biochemistry Fact: (Almost) All the players using a combination of GCAT in their names is a reference to the 4 amino acids found in DNA (guanine, cytosine, adenine and thymine). The exception is John (EB), but who originally used GT only to change due to the trolls' interference. However, RNA, which 'reads' DNA to perform biological functions, uses Uracil (U) instead of thymine. I hope this helps your theorizing about UU! @3dgftw asked: belated congratulations on making it to act 6! from biologist to coder- the letter “U” is almost as important as GCAT in biology, and for a related reason! while G, C, A, and T are the most common nucleic acids, they’re not the only ones around! uracil (U) replaces T when RNA is transcribed, and this substitution is one of the reasons why it’s so unstable, comparatively. that, and the fact that RNA is a single stranded polymer, while DNA is double-stranded. it’s quite the headache for me- sometimes it feels like my RNA will degrade if I look at it wrong!

Huh. So the pattern arguably does still hold, for now - but since uracil is a component of RNA, rather than DNA, there's still an implication that UU is 'different' from our GCAT heroes in some fundamental way. What the hell is up with this girl?

Anonymous asked: The symbol that was similar to the Rod of Asclepius is the Caduceus, the symbol of Hermes (who I think is Asclepius' father?). Interestingly enough, the symbols are often confused with each other, which has led to medical organisations using the Caduceus instead of the Rod. I'm sure you already know, but if you don't, Hermes was the Messenger of the Gods, and patron of a lot of things, most notably travelers and thieves. Anonymous asked: Caduceus anon here. Small correction on my last ask, Asclepius was the son of Apollo, not Hermes. @likelyvampirical asked: Although both have been used in the medical profession, that symbol is actually the Caduceus, a symbol of Hermes, rather than the Rod of Asclepius. Although, the origin of the use of the Caduceus as a medical symbol is also thought to be mistaken symbology, so I suppose it's fitting.

It's possible that Hussie intended it to be the symbol for medicine, and simply got the reference wrong, but it's impossible to say for sure.

The thing certainly looks more like a caduceus to me, but I don't know what it would mean for UU to be Hermes-themed. Maybe she's a Player, and Hermes is her Denizen?

@skelekingfeddy asked: ok, some context on UU: basically, for more than a year the fandom had been theorizing about a SECRET 13TH TROLL. it started out as people pointing out that there were 4 kids and 12 trolls, so a 13th extra troll would make it so that it’s 4/13. then people realised, oh shit, there actually is a 13th extra zodiac named Ophiucus (one of the proposed symbols for which is the caduceus)! people even decided that their handle’s initials would be UU (because of Uracil, the fifth nucleotide base). the theory got so big, Toby even made a theme for UU as a bonus track in his Alternia solo album… …and now, in late 2011, here she is in the comic itself!!! she has the name, the zodiac symbol, everything. what’s her deal? you’ll just have to wait and see :)

That's good context to have, but I still have no idea what the implications are. It really doesn't feel like the trolls could have had a secret thirteenth Player stashed away somewhere, and we already know the pre-Scratch Alternian session was a twelve-Player one, too. Curiouser, curiouser and curiouser.

@aceotaku asked: random: it's only natural PM and Jack Noir were fated to be archenemies of sorts. After all, what is a dog's natural enemy according to cartoons without any real reason?

lmao, does this mean Jack's going to defeat PM by biting her ankle off?

@spiddermen asked: fun homestuck fact: shortly after homestuck ended, hussie came out as clowngender. everyone assumed this was just a bad joke for a while but it was not, hussie is nonbinary and one of the things I like about this second half of homestuck is that you can see them starting to critique the idea of gender roles a lot which I think is interesting. once they stopped working on homestuck they wrote psycholonials which explores these ideas and their thoughts on online society a lot more, it's really good

I heard about this recently, yeah! Apparently the official What Pumpkin press releases have switched to they/them for Hussie - who, if I'm not mistaken, uses any pronouns. Kind of based, honestly.

I'm surprised that this hasn't come up before, given how much the comic likes to delve into gender. I guess I just don't talk about things too much from an out-of-universe perspective, except to offer Doylist explanations for otherwise confusing plot developments.

@aceotaku asked: Your theory of Doc Scratch's Omniscience being based around meta knowledge of the author is incredibly clever and interesting and works really well especially with what we see of Scratch and Hussie after you made that theory. I also wanna bring up how he's my favourite villain in homestuck (I like his dark charisma and tendency to manipualte people while being upfront about his motives, goals and nature which i find unique) and am saddned by the many livebloggers who seem to genuinely hate him.

Oh yeah, I think Doc Scratch is great.

I kind of love to hate him, if that makes sense. He's totally awful, of course - but he's awful in a really fascinating way, that I haven't often seen in fiction. Above all, he's always entertaining to read.

@abibeur asked: One thing I like with the Betty Crocker propaganda is the obvious They Live reference, even if I didn't get it at my first reading. Jane Nada would be really funny… Even if there's another likely candidate to play a character with cool shades!

I picked up on the reference to They Live - but since I haven't seen the movie, I'm not really sure about the exact mechanics of the movie's iconic propaganda-revealing shades. One for the watch pile, for sure.

@abibeur asked: "Apparently his goofy lil' wave is a universal constant." This reminds me of another master of the wind…

Now that's a real Breath Player.

@calcamity asked: im rereading your liveblog for fun since youve reached act 6 (which features my favorite character) and i just have to say you have a great understanding of the characters. all of your pesterchum screenshot bits are (terminally funnily) in character. you could write some baller hs fanfic

Well, thank you very much!

I'm definitely going to at least write a fic involving my 'sonas, when I'm done. If I do have other ideas, though, I could easily end up writing some more canon-adjacent fiction, too. We'll see!

Anonymous asked: is jake english in the newtonverse called hass, just to tie this whole joke together? maybe the newtonverse is where the felt is the varnish instead, and hes like… hass brusher or whatever

Hass Brusher is too good. That one's 100% canon to the Newtonverse now.

@carcinogeneticist-writes-fanfic asked: New reader here who just caught up, congrats on making it to the EOA5! What was your favorite song of the four featured in Cascade? Savior of the Dreaming Dead is a top-tier personal favorite of mine, not just here or even in its album but in the entire Homestuck discography, and one of the songs I was most hoping would make it into the comic proper (not that you have to worry about that, I can def respect not wanting to hear any of the songs 'out of context' beforehand). Good luck with Act 6!

It probably was Savior of the Dreaming Dead, to be honest. It really sells how triumphant Jade's big moment was.

I also loved the section of the track that played during the Perfect Mendicant's transformation. The scene was already epic, but those chords knocked it into twelfth gear.

@krixwell asked: Curiously, as its card was stamped in the punch designix and used to alchemize a worn old hat, the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias was "Oh no, not again."

Oh, that is a great pull. I need to reread the Hitchhiker's Guide series again sometime soon.

Anonymous asked: I never made the connection that Aradia's voices could have been coming from the Haidmaid before, but that fits so perfectly. I'm just imagining her summoning up a bunch of ghosts to constantly haunt Aradia and whisper exactly what she "needs" to hear.

That's pretty much what I'm thinking! I don't know if she'd have revealed herself in person, but she was absolutely behind that particular plot.

@aliceoverzero asked: I discovered this blog just before New Years and it's been an incredible binge-read. You've probably noticed by now that Homestuck is one of the most extreme cases of "you can never repeat the experience of reading it for the first time" due to the structures of its mysteries, and this was further amplified by the original reader experience including maddening wild speculation in between each wait for new pages to drop. Your deliberate pace with this liveblog and your willingness to slam the brakes to hyperfixate on details is the closest a returning reader can get to recapturing that feeling, and it's been a good reminder for me about why this comic has been so impactful to me. Thank you for doing this. Now that you've cleared Act 5, it's worth bringing up that while not present in the original panel where the declaration is made, the "most important character in homestuck" moment is expanded in Cascade to show that it includes both Lil Cal and Gamzee. This has prompted a lot of debate about which of them is actually being referred to as the most important character. Also now it's possible to talk about my favorite detail about Doc Scratch. His repeated use of the statement "I am an excellent host" has finally revealed its double-meaning. @leo60228 asked: so, what do you think about the alternate angle we saw the "The most important character in Homestuck fondly regards the miracle of a new beginning." panel from? @elkian asked: You may have received such a comment already, but during the "most important character in Homestuck" scene, Lil Cal was in Gamzee's lap. Either way you slice it, it's correct, but it's interesting to speculate which is meant. (Though ig one also requires considering Cal as a CHARACTER which is a bit unsettling…) Anonymous asked: Jade's laboratory falling seems to mirror Lord English's arrival. Also, in [S] Cascade you can see that Lil' Cal is also watching this happen. Does that make him the most important character in homestuck? @morganwick asked: In light of Cascade and Intermission 2, you might want to consider whether, now that you've seen the "miracle of a new beginning" moment in fuller context, the "most important character in Homestuck" might not have been referring to Gamzee after all…

Thank you!

And... uh, hang on a second. Do you mean what I think you mean?

...ah, fuck.

[osleeplessflowero]

Oneshot Masterpost

A collection of my oneshots! Series gradually being updated. These links are specific to Tumblr, BUT I have also posted quite a few of these on my Ao3! I also have fics on there, which I will also be making a masterpost for!.

Neighborhood Series

A timeline where the skeleton duos all live in their own houses in a singular neighborhood, after being pulled into the timeline by a strange anomaly..

Contains skeleharem elements, as well as individual oneshots for equal screentime.

🪓Scares and a Sudden Friendship🎃

A fic/series mainly themed for Halloween where Reader has a chance encounter with Horror while going to a Haunted House with their partner. Takes place in a Post-Pacifist Horrortale timeline, so Horror goes by Sans.

📖Fairytale Series🪄

A series of miscellaneous fairytale-based scenarios featuring your favorite skeletons. Some may have connections to others!

Cowboy!Stretch/Reader🐎

An AU where Stretch and Blue live on a ranch and work as cowboys. The other skeletons ARE present in other areas, but this mainly just focuses on Stretch and his growing relationship with Reader. Could be considered Farmtale inspired.

💚Nightmare/Multiverse Traveler!Reader✨

A seemingly endless game of Cat and Mouse, where Nightmare chases Reader across the Multiverse in order to finally be with them, meeting various universal variants of them in his quest to find the true one he'd fallen for. Mutual pining, we love to see it!!

AmalgaMATE

A scenario where Reader is an amalgamate of several different Reader souls, and is hopelessly in love with an interpretation of Science Sans.

🖤Bad Sanses🔪

A collection of scenarios with everybody's favorite villains.

🎃Pumpkin Carving! (was originally a part of a now cancelled Halloween writing challenge series.)

☃️Snow Day! (Christmas Special)🌨

🛌Sleepover!

🛝i'm here. (Dust Comfort)💜

🔪"Knife" To Meet'cha (Killer/Reader #1)🍻

🌹Falling For Ya (Killer/Reader #2(?) ) 🌃

🔒Cornered (Dust/Reader) (Kinda steamy)💜

🌌Alone With You (Dust/Reader)💕

📚Tired (Nightmare/Reader, Reverse Comfort)🍵

Standalone Oneshots

Oneshots that haven't been made into series yet/are intended to be by themselves.

☔️Chance Encounter (Dream/Reader)🚍

🎶Dream/Fem Reader (Requested)🌳

💌Messages + Confessions (Error/Reader)📄

🛍First Meeting (Fell Papyrus/Edge!/Fem Reader)🐾 (Requested)

🫧Into The Sea (Merman!Blue/Reader)🌊

☕Home (Cross/Reader)🏠 (Requested)

Star Sanses HQ Shenanigans(Star Sanses & Reader [Platonic]) (Requested)

Flirting With Death (Reaper/Immune!Reader) (Requested)

🎡Carnival Date (Classic!Papyrus/Reader) (Requested)🧣

😱Frightening New Friend (Horror!Papyrus & Reader)🎃 [Halloween Special]

🌊A Light In The Depths (Mer!Nightmare/Reader)🤿

😳Crushing (Cross x Swap Universe!Reader) (Requested)💜

🛞Immune (Siren!Nightmare/Reader)⛵

🩹(Platonic)Fell Sans & Reader Hurt/Comfort (Requested)❤️‍🩹

🌑Bittersweet (Flirty Vampire!Nightmare x Vampire Hunter!Reader)🗡️

Pocky Game (Error/Reader) (Requested)

Muse (Ink/Reader) (Mainly Romantic Implied but can be viewed as Platonic)

My oneshot requests are currently closed, but I will let all of you know when/if they're open again! Feel free to send in Asks otherwise :]

[polarisbibliotheque]

Devil May Halloween - Ghost Riders In The Sky (Dante)

Devil May Halloween 2024 - Ghost Riders In The Sky (Dante's Halloween Special)

Pairing: Dante x Reader Summary: Oh, Halloween. Last year, you were almost forcefully married to a demon, so Dante's keeping his eyes on you. Well, this time, he will be the one needing help - and only a demon at the crossroads will be able to give you the powers to help your red devil. Rider, you should've known better to change your ways so you wouldn't ride with the ghost riders. Word Count: 25k words, it's a book, BEWARE. Author's Notes: Big big BIG credit to our beloved @furyeclipse who literally helped me write this year! We did this one as a sort of a collab and Fury wrote everything Ovid - so don't forget to sing her praises too!! We got you guys 55 pages of pure DMC crew Halloween shenanigans this time! I was on a big cowboy mood and I LOVE Johnny Cash's song, Ghost Riders In The Sky, with all my heart as well as... YES, THE GHOST RIDER MOVIE WITH NIC CAGE. NOT SORRY, I ADORED IT AS A TEEN. Hahahahaha those were the inspirations - oh, and of course Scooby-Doo inspiration with Nico and Kyrie on this one. Fury helped me getting the ideas going and I just finished writing it yesterday, if I'm not wrong. I do hope you guys enjoy it! I also hope Vergil's will follow soon, but I can't guarantee anything. Do apologize - but I hope Dante's can suffice for now. Happy Halloween, my dear critters, hunters and cheeky devils! ;)

“We’re stickin’ together this year, babe.”

You were almost laughing, but you didn’t want Dante to feel bad for wanting to keep an eye on you – your laughs would be of how endearing you thought he was being rather than anything else, but it would be too much to explain.

His protectiveness actually had a point, and you had to give him that.

“Ok, big guy.” Even so, you couldn’t refrain your voice of sounding a little dismissive. It wasn’t like you didn’t carry around a huge sword and a couple of guns to hunt demons by yourself as well – his worries had a point but, quite frankly, you could always put one hell of a fight if something even tried to touch you.

“Ei, I mean it!” You were walking side by side, but he pointed at you for emphasis. It was impressive how Dante could carry so much worry in his voice and still act absolutely nonchalant about everything – you thought it had something to do with the way his hips swayed during his laidback walks; even during a job, like you were at the moment. “Do I have to remind ya what happened every single last Halloween we had together?”

“I know, I know.” You sighed, but you had to agree with him. From a cursed top hat to being kidnapped to a demonic wedding, you had been through it all. Each year, you thought something new couldn’t happen, until Halloween arrived and, lo and behold, you were both in some new, crazy adventure. “To think it all started with that frigging top hat. How do you think Cheshire demon is doing? Any word from it?”

“Well, Patty allows it out of the hat from time to time. It seems to like her and protect her, who would’ve known?” Dante shrugged, letting out a long sigh himself. Patty practically stole the hat from the shop one day, and there wasn’t much Dante could do to have it back – the girl had a will of steel and, if he thought it was really dangerous, he would’ve never allowed it to touch her hands. In his eyes, everything was under control and Patty seemed… Happy. He would never steal happiness from her. “That spook is kinda her pet now. They’re ‘best friends forever’, who am I to get in the way?”

You let out a giggle. Dante looked like a father whose kid just brought a stray from the streets and looked at him with puppy eyes, asking to be able to keep it.

Only Patty’s stray was a skinny, creepy Cheshire cat looking demon, with a mischievous grin… But a good heart.

It looked worse than it acted, in all honesty. You were team Patty on this one.

“What…?” Dante side eyed you, noticing your endeared giggle and pleased expression.

“Well. You’re one hell of a dad, big guy. That’s all.” You answered in a sing-song tune, incredibly satisfied to be having that conversation mid-Halloween job with your half-demon life partner. “Best dad material I could’ve ever wished for. Really.”

And there it was, your life-long ability of making Dante speechless. It was something Vergil would almost always applaud if he was around, but you rarely left Dante speechless over thoughtful feelings in front of other people – those moments were mostly reserved to yourselves.

He immediately tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants – and you could almost say he was blushing. Dante turned pensive in the blink of an eye, and you couldn’t help but smile.

A father. He never really saw himself becoming one or even being one – and his expectations would be to be terrible at it, like his old man before him. Not that Sparda was a horrible dad when he was around, but he wasn’t. When Dante, Vergil and Eva needed the most, Sparda was nowhere to be seen. He never really knew what happened to him – just disappeared from the world and left them with the curse of his blood and stain of his name.

You knew very much what you were doing when you said he was great father material. You wanted Dante to feel proud of that – eventually, because he would have very much conflicting feelings about being seen as a dad… Mostly because, like everything else in his personal life, his immediate reaction would be to think he would absolutely suck at it.

Dante wasn’t the best at receiving heartfelt, sincere compliments. You were well-aware of that.

That’s why you had a personal mission to make him understand how amazing he was in your eyes – one compliment at a time.

“Well. At least I didn’t inherit that from my ol’ man.” He finally said out loud, looking back at you and flashing a half-smile on his lips. “Creepy-ass demons aside, you’re stayin’ under my radar today, hot stuff. With someone like yourself around, I’m gonna have to worry about demons tryna marry you every Halloween now.”

“Oh, please…” You rolled your eyes with his answer, making Dante immediately laugh in response. He was teasing, of course, but there was a sting of truth to his words. “That was… Awful. I hope it never happens again. If I have to wear one of those horrid wedding gowns again, I swear… I’m gonna start throwing punches.”

“Sucker punchin’ demons down the aisle, what an entrance!” Dante had to laugh alongside you – the previous Halloween had been one hell of a ride to say the least. “But hey, I’ll always be around to tear those horrible clothes off you, babe.”

“Oh, and that you do quite well, you devil…” You had to giggle in return as Dante had the cockiest grin slapped on his lips. Oh, how you loved bantering with your red devil.

Alas, it was Halloween, and all that sweet talking with your beloved red devil would have to wait. You two had finally arrived back at the hotel you were staying with the whole crew – courtesy of the inhabitants of the very western looking little town that called your services for that night.

Something had been brewing for quite a while: you and Dante had noticed it, but you weren’t able to actually identify what in the hell was going on. Ever since the disco incident with the hellish imps in Redgrave, it didn’t slip past your fingers that random summoning of demons was increasing around smaller cities – the hellish imps were probably a group that detached from the original summoning point and decided to wreak mischief right at the Devil May Cry’s backyard.

One city, though, seemed to be the most affected. Silverstone was quite small compared to Redgrave, but very much a tourist town. It thrived on its western look and it took pride in being known as a place that could take its visitors back in time to years of salons, gold rushes, wanted posters and duels at noon. Recently, though, the tourists were a little bit scared and decided to avoid the place, and with reason: demons were becoming increasingly common around the area.

There wasn’t much to do against it, for the demons seemed to come from the desert, at night, with a thirst for blood and human flesh – leaving only destruction in its wake. The political leaders of the city were taking too long to figure out what to do, so the tradespeople of Silverstone decided to come together and take matters into their own hands.

With a little council formed – mostly with owners of hotels, cafés, restaurants, shops, and every other kind of business that could benefit from tourists – you had quite the interesting proposition at the Devil May Cry for that year’s Halloween night.

*

“C’mon in! Door’s open!”

It was a chilly autumn evening at the Devil May Cry – nothing really eventful happening, so you took the opportunity to kick Dante off his chair and help you organize the shop a little bit. He didn’t complain – after all, things were a lot better after you came into his life; organizing the shop was one of those things.

You didn’t expect a knock on the heavy doors of the Devil May Cry, though. Since Dante was near the kitchen and your hands were busy putting your swords away on their rightful place at the wall right behind the desk, telling the random customer to come in was the best way to welcome them.

“Didn’t know it was time for a ‘Fall cleanin’ at this place! Looks like you can work miracles, after all.” That raspy voice and the smell of cigar was unmistakable. You giggled as you turned around to greet him.

“Well, you know how I roll, Morrison. If I can’t work miracles, I don’t even show up.” You rested your hands on your waist, having a cocky smile on your lips – which made Morrison laugh in return.

“I sure do hope you people can work miracles alright, pal.” What you did not expect to see, was Morrison’s client: a man well into his sixties, huge white mustache curled up at the ends, wearing light jeans, snake leather boots, checkered button up shirt to his neck and a white, quite imposing, cowboy hat – which he took off to greet you respectfully, revealing his combed back white hair.

“Well, if you call closin’ the Gates of Hell a miracle, we’ve been known to work those from time to time, Colonel Sanders.” As soon as Dante finished his sentence, you closed your eyes, controlling yourself not to giggle. You never wanted to seem rude to customers, but you had to admit, having a cowboy in the shop was a first. A cowboy other than Dante, that is. “Halloween is approachin’ and we’ve been havin’ more spooks than the usual around. Is that what this is ‘bout?”

The Colonel Sanders cowboy gazed at Morrison as if asking if the man had briefed Dante in advance. As the red devil sat on his huge chair, you rested on the edge of the desk, crossing your arms and allowing a proud smile to spread across your lips – Dante always played the goofy, reckless rockstar card, but he was far from being naïve and, how his twin liked to call him, foolish. When it came to his job, he was quick to notice patterns and underlying intentions of demons – and, since your hellish imp disco job, he had been keeping an eye on the increase of devils in and around Redgrave.

Oh, yes. You were more than proud to call him your lover.

“Told ya. He might not look like much, but he’s good.” Morrison answered the man’s look, making you giggle a bit. You could feel Dante glaring at you – the ‘he might not look like much’ would come up later, in a teasing and friendly banter between you both. “You guessed it, Dante. There’s a lot goin’ on, but I’ll let Mr. Carson here do the explainin’.”

“I take it you’re not from the city, Mr.” Dante pointed at the man’s hat, as Morrison moved to his favorite spot on the shop’s couch and the man approached the desk.

“Ye, not from around, indeed. Call me Buck.” The man took his time to shake Dante’s hand and yours – with a strong grip, but not as rough as you expected. You had to admit, you were a lot more familiar with rougher hands – like Dante’s. “I’m from Silverstone, you people probably heard of it.”

“Hmmm. Up north, smaller city. Got the name because of the silver mines around; one of the biggest cities back in the day, right?” You had to pull the mental map you had in your head to find Silverstone – it was a touristic city you had always wanted to visit but never really got the chance, hence why you knew so much about it. Also, it was good knowing maps by heart when you had to count on Nico driving you somewhere: you had been lost a couple of times with Nero, Dante and Vergil and it was chaotic, to say the least.

“Yes, pal, and we take pride in that!” Buck’s mustache smiled to hear you knew about his small town – something he didn’t really expect from people in big cities. Dante also looked at you, with his eyebrows raised, as you only looked back at him with a matter-of-fact expression in your eyes. He called you a know-it-all sometimes, but he actually loved that about you.

Vergil was a whole different kind of know-it-all – as per his words, the asshole kind.

“We been havin’ problems in Silverstone lately… Demon problems.” Buck’s dark brown eyes now turned serious, drawing yours and Dante’s attention. “It started with some small, flyin’ things. Annoyin’ little folk who liked to upset the cattle and do all kinds of mischief devilry around the city; they were drivin’ the tradespeople mad. But nothin’ a good ol’ rifle couldn’t solve. Some men and women took ‘em as target practice.”

“Hellish imps. You’re talking about hellish imps.” And even though you had a smile on your lips, you couldn’t look more annoyed. Dante couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“They’re easy to kill, but annoyin’ as hell.” He shook his head, remembering finding you in the disco, hopelessly chained to a chair, while the imps from Hell messed around with your stuff while Stayin’ Alive blasted through the amps. It was a sight to see – a funny, but rather cute one. “We also had some problems with ‘em recently.”

“Well, if we had only those… Hellish imps, you said… ‘Round the town, folks would take care of ‘em, no need for help. After a month, I think, it got worse.” Buck’s face turned somber and his shoulders seemed to recoil to himself – even if he was a naturally imposing kind of guy, it looked like he got a little smaller… Fearful, even. “Folks from farms started reportin’ dead cattle – not your usual disease or random poisonin’ from eatin’ bad food, no, poor cattle were bein’ torn to shreds; all blood drained. Some of us decided to take a look…” Buck shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. “Overnight, farms turned into fields worse than slaughterhouses. I never seen anythin’ like it. And it was random too: some cattle dead, some alive.”

“Hmmm. Demons do have a thirst for blood, but only lesser ones wouldn’t risk going after armed humans.” You pondered, your memory going back to all the things you read in the Codex Daemonica. It was the best knowledge reference you knew… After Dante and Vergil. “You might’ve grown a reputation of being too tough for them not to attack you right away.”

“We tried to keep our lil’ town as protected as we could, pal.” Buck now had a thankful smile on his mustache, proud to hear someone like you appreciated their efforts and courage. “That didn’t keep those things at bay, though. We tried all superstition and priests to keep those things away. Some of us even tried shootin’ some in the dark, but they kept comin’ back. Farmers would be terrorized inside their houses at night, keepin’ their families safe and prayin’ they wouldn’t wake up to their cattle mutilated.” The man’s thick, white eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, eyes turning somber once again. “We were fightin’, pal. Keepin’ things together as we could. ‘Til that thunderstorm; rumblin’ in the skies like the devil’s herd themselves, crossin’ our path to bring our doom.”

You felt a chill dripping down your spine, rearranging yourself at the edge of Dante’s desk as if you were trying to make your sitting spot more comfortable. You weren’t one to fear any sort of devilish stories – quite the contraire, you and Dante heard those with enthusiasm and even let out some good laughs while at it – but you had to give it to that cowboy. He knew how to tell an ominous story, and that was a rare find.

He would be a certified success at camps, telling ghost stories by a bonfire at night.

“Thunderstorm, huh? That’s no small demon.” Dante suddenly turned serious – and when that happened, play time was over.

“Nothin’ small indeed. The cattle mutilation got worse, if you can imagine. Their blood, their parts… Gone. Some folk in the city tried to see what was goin’ on, and they did see somethin’: dark figures, watchin’ us from over the hills. Always when the night was approachin’, when the horror would begin. The ones who tried to fight back… Well…” Buck sighed, taking a little embroidered handkerchief from his pockets and drying some of the sweat that started to appear between his bushy white brows. “We lost our first townspeople. Good folk. Fair, hardworkin’ people. Good with a rifle too.”

“I know it’s a rather insensitive question, but it’s important, Mr. Carson…” You immediately apologized before you could even ask what you had in mind – after all, you could see the sorrow in the man’s eyes. Sorrowful cowboys had your heart softened like ice cream melting on summer, and you had Dante to blame over that. “But were there bodies? If so, did they have anything missing…?”

“Hmmm, yeah, they had some parts missin’… Mostly hair, nails… One of them, those things they… Well, they…” Buck sighed once more, putting the handkerchief away. You and Dante were used to that sort of horror – having contact with someone who didn’t work in the business like you did was definitely grounding as to what was considered horrible or not. “They took tongues and teeth too. A grim sight, pal, a grim sight… They all had their throats slit, clean cut, pale with their eyes frozen in fear. Forever starin’ at the thing that took their life.”

“Wait, you said clean cut…? As in a blade cut?” Dante had both his arms on his table now, leaning forward with interest as his eyebrows betrayed the confusion that information caused him. “Not an animal’s claw?”

“Nah, friend, that was definitely a blade. I know my animals, and I’m a pretty decent tracker along with some folks who like to hunt together sometimes. We know what’s a cut from a knife and a cut from a beast. Even those beasts you two been huntin’.” Buck shook his head affirmatively with so much conviction you couldn’t doubt his words. “Every single throat was slashed with a blade, maybe a huntin’ knife. The rest that was taken… Well, I dunno. I don’t wanna think a human could’ve done somethin’ so monstrous to someone else. That’s gotta be those demons of yours… After all, they come back every night.”

“And they kill humans every night as well? How many so far?” You maybe had something in your mind, but things were actually quite foggy. Some things didn’t add up – and, judging by Dante’s expression, he was on the same page as you.

“Not every night, no. We’ve been keepin’ ourselves safe. We’ve been sleepin’ together at big places: hotels, churches, markets. Barricade the doors, guards with rifles takin’ turns so everyone has a chance to rest, town watch to keep an eye on the dark figures on the hills… But sometimes, that’s not enough, friend. Sometimes, one of us gets lost and the body turns up the next day.” Buck lowered his head, shaking it right after. “It took us some time to find out how to fight back. We never knew there were… Professionals in dealin’ with those things. We thought we were abandoned to our own doom and nothin’ could save us, until a random couple from Redgrave said a man named Dante might be able to help our lil’ town. Gave us a number, and Morrison picked up.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you found us, then.” You smiled back, trying to lift up the mood a little bit – something that was quite impossible, but you pitied the man. You just wanted to see cowboys smiling; again, something you would always blame Dante for.

“I hope so, friend.” His mustache curled up on a small smile and you already had some more joy in your heart. Dante almost laughed upon seeing you so happy from trying to cheer up a client – you would always do the best you could, and you would always let your heart open to empathy. Something so human, and so lovely to his eyes. “Folks in town weren’t so sure ‘bout me comin’ all the way down to Redgrave to check this ‘devil hunter’, but it’s the last chance we got. We decided to risk it.”

“Your gamble paid off, pal. You got me interested – and, if you’re payin’, you got me hired.” Dante sighed back in his classic nonchalant way, already getting up from his chair, offering his hand to close the deal.

“That won’t be a problem. A job well-done is a job well-paid – you get rid of those horrors in Silverstone, the whole town will be more than willin’ to compensate you, pal.” Buck put his hat back on, shaking Dante’s hand. “I’ll be goin’ back to town tomorrow first time in the mornin’ –”

“Ya don’t have to worry. We can keep up.”

The biggest smile in the room was Morrison’s: he always got a commission whenever he found a job for you and Dante, so the promise of the whole town being monetarily thankful to you both was a great prospect for him as well. As Morrison and Buck Carson left the shop, and you all said your goodbyes, Dante went around the desk, slightly leaning on it by your side while keeping his arms crossed and eyes on the door – just like you.

“Demons don’t usually use blades.” You finally said what you both thought was so weird about all that story.

“And when they do, they’re not the chaotic bunch of the imps. They’re much worse.” Dante agreed with you, his voice now serious and pensive.

“What do you think? Hell Generals? Higher rank demons?” You furrowed your brows a bit, looking up to his reflective face. “Angelos…?”

“Might be… Might be all of them, might be just one.” Dante sighed, slouching a bit on his desk while blankly staring at the heavy wooden doors of the Devil May Cry. “We’ll only figure it out when we get to Silverstone.”

“Hmmm. I guess you’re right.” After your own sigh, you did your best to reach out to his face and place a rather long kiss on his rough jaw – making Dante look back at you quite confused, breaking his blank stare and having life back into those sky-blue eyes. “You’re very handsome when you’re brooding, cowboy, did you know that?”

“Oh, you like it when I’m serious, sheriff?” And even if he kept his straight expression, you could hear the fun teasing and loving notes in Dante’s voice. “Maybe I’ve to play the ‘stoic cowboy’ more often to ya.”

“Eh, I love you anyway, red devil. You don’t have to play any roles for me.” You shrugged, giggling as Dante’s hands already pulled you closer to him, sneaking around your waist. “Blame it on that handsome face of yours.”

“Ya think I’m handsome, then…?” And now he had a bit of his goofy smile on his lips, hell bent on teasing you for the rest of the night. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into – and, considering every single Halloween prior to this one, that kind of break would be very welcome. You could feel it in your bones. “My sheriff has a thing for handsome devils, huh?”

“For one handsome devil. I’m pretty committed, you know…?” You finally allowed him to playfully kiss your lips, both of you smiling between pecks. “I’m not one to think everyone is handsome. I have standards.”

“Oh, and this cowboy here is your kind of standard, yeah?”

“You bet you are, Dante.” With the certainty of your voice and the way you pulled his head to a deeper kiss, something ignited in Dante’s chest. You knew exactly how to get him going – and he would never complain about that.

“Ok, sheriff. You got what you wished for!” Breaking the kiss, Dante immediately lifted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style throughout the shop and up the stairs. “Undivided attention from your handsome devil tonight, no refunds!”

“See? You surpass every standard I may have, babe!” You giggled, leaving a few kisses on his neck.

That was something you both learned after a few couple life-threatening, serious jobs: always seize the moment you had before the storm; enjoy every kiss and every touch you could with each other prior to one of those dangerous gigs – it could very well be the last chance you would have.

*

“Well, well, rise and shine! Got enough of your beauty sleep?” Of course, Dante had to tease his nephew – or it wouldn’t be Dante.

“Yeah, maybe you should try it too. Be lookin’ too much like an old man, soon they’ll be mistakin’ you for Santa.” Nero’s answer was as sharp as his sword, perfect for a punk like him. You had to wheeze, receiving a side-eye from your red devil.

“What?” You shrugged back, while Kyrie stopped by the porch of the grand Wild West looking hotel you were all staying – property of Buck Carson – worriedly observing the hills in the distance against the orange sky. “You kinda asked for it. Santa.”

“Great.” Dante’s smile was poisoned with annoyance. “Lil’ angel is comin’ along too?”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s a good idea…” Nero started mumbling, and you could see it in his face: it was a topic of discussion between them both. Kyrie was brave and wanted to save people, while Nero was overprotective and wanted to save her at all costs. After the almost marriage, he became a little worse. “There’s plenty of people to help here in town…”

“The demons might have kidnapped and hurt people already, wherever they are.” Kyrie’s hazelnut eyes focused back on Nero – determined, but still kind. “If so, those people need help. You can kill the demons, but I can help the people.” She turned her eyes to you, like an accomplice. “It’s what we have been doing for a while now.”

“Yeah, it backfired last year. With both of ya.” Nero added, having you looking back at him with surprise, resting your hands on your hips. That was bold of him, to talk to you like that. He was your honorary nephew, after all.

You finally felt the pang of a parent being antagonized by their child and you were ready to give him your very first scolding – what a Halloween already.

“Eh, have to agree with the kid on that one.” But Dante got in the way first, and now your surprised gaze turned to your red devil – who immediately picked it up and was quite used to some scolding. “Ei, I’m just sayin’, babe! Last year, you both got yourselves in a pickle, this close to marryin’ a demon in a ceremony that would be a real pain in the ass to nullify if it had happened.” And Dante wouldn’t argue if he wasn’t worried himself: if it was just him, Vergil or Nero being headstrong about something stupid, he would let it go – but it was about you. And your safety was a subject he would never let go. “Cut us some slack here, will ya? We’re just tryna keep ya safe.”

You and Kyrie never looked so conflicted in your entire lifetimes up until that point. There you were, standing on the porch side by side, hands on your waists, ready to rebuke them like the most annoyed family member of the year – but how could you when your partners were only being that annoying because you were so important to them, the only thing they cared about was keeping you both safe?

You wanted to argue and kiss Dante, all at the same time – and Kyrie perfectly understood your conflict, because she wanted to do precisely the same with Nero.

“Well, you don’t want me to stay here in town, do you?” You finally asked the million dollar question. If you couldn’t disarm them with the old ‘you’re-worrying-too-much’ scolding, you had to appeal to logic. “I’m a devil hunter. I go on jobs by myself. I’m as important as Nero or you, big guy, on this one. Kyrie has been training with Nero for a year now to be able to protect herself on the field whenever she needs to come along to help people, and she’s been helping me a lot last couple of jobs. Even killed some demons herself.” With those words, Kyrie’s hazelnut eyes found yours with pride in them. You remembered telling her how Credo would be proud, and how emotional she got. Since then, she was becoming even fiercer, but still keeping her sweet kindness, only resorting to violence if she had no other option at hand. “If you think we can’t handle ourselves, then all that talk about humans being even stronger than demons is bullshit, and you only say that to feel better about yourselves. Your actions must match your words if you really believe in something, you know.”

Nero and Dante just stared back at you like two wet dogs who did something terribly wrong and now we're being lectured by their owner and asking for forgiveness. Not even in their wildest dreams they could’ve thought such calm words could make them feel so small and embarrassed for their actions. They were completely speechless, trying to find an argument back and trying to keep their pose – but failing miserably.

“Damn, did you go to Vergil’s school of winnin’ an argument…?” Dante shook his head, having his hands on his waist now – and a slight smile on his lips. “You know I do believe in that. You two get in trouble, I’m killin’ the bastard who touched you. That’s it for me.”

“Eh, that’s it for me too…” Nero scratched the back of his head, not being able to counter your logic. “But I’m stayin’ close to you, Kyrie!”

“Heeeeeey there, you suckers! Your magical ride arrived for the night!” Nico appeared just at the right moment, tires singing on the pavement as she parked the van. “Gotta say, the mechanic in town is pretty good! Not like me, of course, but we tuned up a few things that needed some fixin’ and the van is workin’ fine!”

That was enough to get Nero bantering with Nico and Dante on his way to the van, ready to get to work. You and Kyrie followed along together, with her entangling her arm on yours as you went down the stairs of the hotel’s entrance porch.

“That was good! Point for us!” She whispered to you while giggling, making you mirror her actions.

“Hey, I learned with the best.” You pointed back at Kyrie, a satisfied smile appearing on her lips. “Nothing like treating the Spardas like the kids at the orphanage.”

“Oh, a little bit of gentle authority goes a long way with Nero. Dante’s like that too, right?”

“You have no idea. Best thing I’ve ever learned from you.”

“Ei! Can you both stop gossipin’ and get on the van already…?” Nero tried to look annoyed and maintain the punk attitude but you both could see how that was cracking and his whole body looked a lot gentler than his words sounded.

“Eh, kid, we just lost all credibility. Time to accept that.” Dante gave his nephew a pat on the back as he hopped on the van, already used to that kind of situation. Nero just blushed as you both giggled together and he helped Kyrie up while you followed your red devil in.

Plopping right by his side, Dante was calmly reading one of the many magazines about gunsmithing. You scooted near him, landing a quick kiss on his jaw – his eyes finally looking back at you, a half-smile hidden on his lips.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Hell yeah I do, hot stuff.” And he landed a quick peck on your forehead. “I love you too.”

Dante’s attention got back to his magazine as Nico kickstarted the van and you took one of your guns of its case to check if everything was in order before the job. Nero sat by Kyrie’s side like a guard dog while she talked about something completely unrelated to hunting with the gunsmith virtuosa at the wheel.

With the sun almost hiding behind the hills, tainting everything in blood-orange, you all failed to notice the dark figures following your every footsteps and the tires of the van as you plunged in the night to find the demons terrorizing the little town of Silverstone.

*

You had to be fair to Nico: driving in the middle of a dark desert wasn’t an easy task. You were engulfed by a sea of darkness and the only light on the highway was that of the van. Granted, there was nothing for Nico to crash the vehicle on, but she wasn’t leaving the road either.

“What you’re seein’ today, is the new town. A few miles away, there’s the old town of Silverstone – the original, if you will.”

As soon as the sun shone in the sky that morning, you called Kyrie and briefed them of the job – which, of course, they were eager to be part of. Buck led you all to the city: riding ahead with Morrison in his truck, followed by the Devil May Cry van… And Dante riding the Cavaliere with you safely holding your red devil’s waist, as you always enjoyed the motorcycle rides.

He introduced you to all the members of the small council of townspeople who decided to take those hellish matters in their own hands and end the horrors – and soon, you were having a meeting to understand where the damn demons were coming from.

“It all started as a silver mine, closer to the hills. Folks started to settle around, built a church and soon, Silverstone was born.” An old woman, Frances Campbell, explained with a map opened on a big table at the hotel’s party room – the common areas now filled with mattresses tossed around and families refusing to dare set a foot outside; be it day or night. “The town was hit with a wave of prosperity, and even more people tried their luck in Silverstone. Soon, there were too many people for such a small little town – and that’s when the town you’re in was born.”

“Why change the location of the town, ma’am?” Kyrie had her attentive eyes analyzing the map and, as always, made the most insightful questions. “Was there something wrong with the initial town?”

“Nothin’ at all, my dear. At least at the beginning.” Frances added, fixing the thin glasses that were starting to slide down the bridge of her nose. “The original town was closer to the mines, but not the water. Silverstone now is a lot closer to the main river in the region.”

“Well, whenever there’s a peak of prosperity, there’s a peak of greed too; at least in my experience.” Dante crossed his arms, also studying the map.

You did love when he got all professional. That’s how you ended up showering him with kisses the previous night.

“And that you are right, Mr. Devil Hunter.” The woman pointed at Dante as a teacher does when a student makes a smart remark – you remembered Buck mentioning she was a retired professor, and you could see she still had that in her. “And with greed, comes crime. People started tryin’ to take advantage of each other, steal, cheat, murder… Everythin’ you hear in ol’ Wild West stories.”

“The type of thing that attracts demons. Maybe that’s why they decided to appear now…?” You furrowed your brows and looked at Dante, but he too had a not so sure expression. “It was long ago, though, as you are saying, ma’am. It’s a long shot, but I’m trying to understand here why demons attacking Silverstone of all places all of a sudden.”

“Well, rumors started goin’ around the town back then, of a man who made a deal with the devil.” And that made all of you even more attentive, as a pack of dogs who hear a favorite word. “He was the richest of Silverstone, built a huge mansion in the old town… Died a horrible death: he got caught in the middle of a stampede. People never found his horse, nor the cattle and the drovers, but they found his body teared in pieces across the desert.”

“How did they know it was a stampede, then…?” And you would never tell him as not to hurt his pride, but Nero looked like a child hearing a spooky story by a bonfire.

“There were roof marks everywhere. Some parts of the sand seemed burned, as if the roofs were made of hot steel.” The lady’s voice was ominous and you did think she and Buck would make one hell of a couple. Maybe that could be your side quest for that Halloween, if there was something close to a spark between them. They would be an absolute banger at the spooky orphanage parties. “The townspeople said the devil had come to collect his part of the bargain for all the money the man got of his contract. Soon, the man’s wife died in an accident at home, and strange, usually deadly, happenin’s started occurring at the mansion. Everyone left and the building was considered haunted. The town started havin’ more and more issues involving death and horrible accidents, and soon everyone believed the man had cursed them from beyond the grave. That’s when the townspeople decided it was time to build a better version of Silverstone.”

“Nothin’ like an old, power-hungry bastard to bring down a whole city…” Nero mumbled more to himself than to anyone else while reading the map – but everyone could feel who he was really talking about. Wherever Vergil was at his Halloween job at the moment, you were certain he was feeling a sting from being stabbed by his own son in the distance. “Gotta a name for this as-Gentleman…?”

You couldn’t hold back a wheeze when Kyrie elbowed Nero so he wouldn’t curse so much in front of Frances, and tried to correct himself.

“Beau Blackwell. My grandma knew him, snob fellow. She never liked him too much, and kept cursin’ his troubled soul ‘til the day she went to the grave herself.”

“The Campbell ladies were never the kind to mess with, that’s for certain.” Buck finally arrived back, having both his hands hanging at the edge of his belt, his moustache smiling to Frances. “Grandma Campbell was a tough one.”

“That she was. Ol’ Blackwell didn’t even try to get in her way.” She had a proud smile back in her thin lips, a spark igniting in her smart eyes as soon as Buck Carson arrived.

Oh, you knew that spark. Your side quest for Halloween was on.

“And what did your grandma think of this Blackwell guy, ma’am? He had a deal?” For Dante, that was the most important information at the moment. A contract could indicate a whole number of things, but there was a good chance the old town had at least one good demon summoning place – at worst, a door to the underworld itself.

“She sure thought he did. As far as she said, Blackwell was a useless wimp who couldn’t find a slab of silver if it was paradin’ naked right in front of his nose.” So far, Nico was serious and didn’t get much into the demon talk – probably studying the map and all the routes in and out of the old town, as she always did. But the whole naked silver slab thing made you and her have to hold a wheeze – Nico failing and trying to mask it with a cough. “He also got to marry the sheriff’s daughter, the most beautiful and smart woman around back then – and the one all men fought to get. For some reason, the woman fell head over heels for a spineless shrimp like Beau.”

“Doesn’t look like she was that smart after all.” Buck shrugged. “I always thought that was the Campbell’s title.”

Oh, yes. Buck was genuinely head over heels for his Frances – and judging by the way she glared him back, with a smart smile on her lips, it was corresponded.

“We kinda got the title after she chose that ass.” With Frances’ answer, Nero couldn’t help but beam a proud smile: if she was cursing, he could curse as well. “The fact is, Blackwell was suddenly hit with a wave of luck that was very much out of character. And then, found death in the most mysterious and grim circumstances.”

“Yeah. That has the foul smell of a demon contract right there…” Dante was pensive again, now looking at the map. “Is the ol’ Blackwell mansion easy to find?”

“Pretty easy, Mr. Devil Hunter. It’s the biggest one in the ol’ town, bigger even than the church. Damn Blackwell was a show-off with all that money of his.”

“Well, it sounds more and more like a contract to me.” Dante sighed, looking back at Frances and Buck. “If they’re watchin’ Silverstone from the hills and there’s that much history in the ol’ town, I think it’s safe to say that’s where the demons are comin’ from. Either way, we’re checkin’ it tonight.”

“Tonight?” Buck’s eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, Frances copying his worried expression. “Don’t you prefer to go durin’ the day, when those creatures aren’t out?”

“Eh, I can’t put on much of a show if there aren’t any demons to kill, can I?” Dante shrugged and you had to smile. Buck had a point, but you knew the best time to check would be at night: if they were attacking when the sun was gone, that’s when you would find them. Prior to that, you risked finding anything at all. “Besides, I got the cavalry with me. We’ll be fine and you’ll be out of demons in no time.”

With the van riding in pitch-black darkness, though, you couldn’t make out any shapes in the distance: you would only see the creatures on the hills if you had the moon behind it – but it seemed like even the moon herself was hidden that night.

It was eerily quiet as well. You had checked your guns and your sword, making sure everything was in pristine condition. Now that you had nothing else to do, you were watching outside and paying attention to your surroundings – and there weren’t many noises. There were just a few sounds here and there that you couldn’t quite isolate and figure out what it was. But it felt, familiar in an off putting kind of way.

“Ei, sheriff. Everything ok there?” Dante’s voice took you out of your thoughts, and you turned your attention to him. “Your eyebrow will soon look like just one, the way you’re frownin’ there, hot stuff. What’s wrong?”

“Hmmm… I dunno…” You murmured back, trying to relax your eyebrows a little bit. That made Dante smile. “I have a… Feeling.”

“A feelin’, huh? What kind of feelin’, pretty eyes?” And even if he had that easygoing tone sprinkled in his voice and attitude, Dante did take on a more serious demeanor. “Good one? Bad one…?”

“A… Weird one. I can’t quite tell if it’s good or bad…” You had your worried expression back on, trying to understand what the hell was that thing stirring in your heart. Your feelings were notorious between you and Dante: he said it was your spidey-sense tingling, even if you didn’t have any heritage like his. “I just know something is wrong. I’m not feeling like things are completely… Ok.”

“Have they ever been ok in this family, y/n?” Nero had to put his two cents in the conversation, immediately making you a little less worried – and giggling with his question. “But hey, if you’re feelin’ somethin’s wrong, we should have our guard up.”

“Well put, kid. Y/n’s spidey-sense is no joke.”

“It’s not a spidey-sense, c’mon…” You rolled your eyes, already smiling with your red devil and honorary nephew.

But the moment couldn’t last for too long: soon, the van jumped in the air, as if it had aggressively ran over something.

“Hey, Nico! What the fuckin’ hell was that?!” Nero held Kyrie’s waist so she wouldn’t fly around the van – and only after you checked on them, you realized Dante had the very same reaction, but holding you close to him.

If you flew around, you would fly around together. You jump, I jump, as Jack Dawson would say.

“I’ve no idea!!”

“Don’t’cha know how to drive anymore?!” And now Nero stumbled over to the driver’s seat, as Nico stopped the van with a screech. He almost stamped on the front window like a sticker. “What the fuck is goin’ on?!”

“Why don’t you do the drivin’, if you’re so good yourself, huh?!” Nico fixed her glasses on her face, hands trembling and flailing everywhere. “I dunno what happened! It wasn’t an animal, nothin’ like that!! It was too fast and I didn’t see it! One minute, the road was clear, the other, I hit somethin’ and went over it!!”

“Oh, maybe it was a coyote or a wolf trying to cross the road…!” Kyrie’s heart was almost coming out of her throat, but you could all hear the tone of worry in her voice.

“It can very well be, those animals are common around here.” You had your own hand over your heart, feeling it beating like a samba school in peak Carnaval. “They aren’t used to cars, specially this time of the night.”

“C’mon, kid. Let’s check it out.” Dante got up from the seat, leaving Rebellion behind and carrying only Ebony and Ivory in his hands. “If it’s an animal, we can’t leave the pooch agonizing out there. If it isn’t…”

“They’ll regret gettin’ in the way.” Nero answered with a smile and already reloading Blue Rose, leaving Red Queen behind with Kyrie. “You better stay in the van.”

“Was that for me as well? ‘Cause you know, I got my own set of cool guns, too.” You looked back at Dante, waving your dual guns around – and winning a quick laugh from him.

“Hey, if it’s nothin’, it’s just trouble for you, pretty eyes. If it is somethin’, well, thank you’re more than welcome to join the party.” With those words, he winked back at you and left the van with Nero.

You remained close to the van’s door, telling Kyrie to seat beside Nico on the driver’s seat. None of you could really see what was going on: the only thing in front of you was the dark road and endless miles of pitch-black desert. For Kyrie and Nico, it was no different; although they had the headlights to light up a few meters ahead.

You could hear their steps as they quietly approached whatever it was that Nico ran over. Awfully quiet for the both of them. That feeling you had before only tightened in your chest, reverberating even more, almost making you forget how to breathe. Those seconds dragged like feet drenched in quicksand, trying to move but unable to get anywhere.

Until you heard a gunshot.

Before you could even ask what was going on, a dead demon flew over the van and landed on the hood with a loud noise, staring at all of you with its dead eyes and blood splattering everywhere – which made Nico and Kyrie immediately start screaming, almost hugging each other.

You jumped out of the van, finding Nero and Dante surrounded by demons – low tier demons, though, nothing you three couldn’t handle together. Wielding your dual guns, you started to shoot as fast as Dante had taught you.

Not as fast as he did, though. That was his demonic blood at work.

“Where did they come from?” You ran up to him, standing with your back to your red devil’s back – that way, you both could cover a larger area.

“No idea, babe. We were checkin’ out the dead one. Don’t move!” With those words, Dante used the dead demon as leverage to jump right above you and pull off his classic spinning move with Ebony and Ivory. With you in the middle, right below him, it was impossible to hit you.

You had to be fair: you would always be impressed when he did that and managed to keep you safe while slaughtering all the demons around you in one single move.

When you were least expecting, though, a blade flew by your side – superficially slashing your upper right cheek, but enough to make a constant flow of blood trail down your face.

Dark figures were approaching – like the ones the townsfolk described. You, Nero and Dante were already expecting higher rank demons; the ones who were really behind all that mess.

Until you all heard a motorcycle noise.

“What the…?!” Before Nero could finish cursing, though, you all turned around only to find a set of motorcycles running right into your direction. If Nero hadn’t grabbed you and dodged right away, you would certainly end up with a nasty injury.

You counted quickly. There were around sixteen of those dark figures, including the ones on foot and the ones on the motorcycles. One of them held an amulet that glowed with a blood red light in the dark, creating dark seals on the floor – the ones that summoned more of the lesser demons from the underworld.

That was where they were coming from.

“Nico, hit the gas! Get the hell out of here!” Nero immediately screamed, assessing the situation the same way as you did: it was a very bad situation.

“But…!”

“Now’s not the time to argue, Goldstein!” Dante’s voice was almost a roar – and Nico rarely heard him calling her like that. It was enough to make the gunsmith virtuosa get the van running. “Y/n…!”

“Ah, hell no, big guy! I’m not leaving without you!” You roared back, already shooting one of the demons that tried to attack Dante. The van’s tires screeched on the road as Nico turned it around abruptly to go back the way you came from – back to the new town of Silverstone. In a safer place, they could figure out what to do. “You jump, I jump! No refunds!”

Dante’s heart didn’t know if it wanted to jump out of his chest from desperation of having you in such a situation or from elation of you loving him so much as to put yourself in danger.

It was probably because of both.

“Kid! Y/n! Back to back, the three of us! C’mon!” He didn’t even had to say it again: soon, you had Dante’s and Nero’s backs to yours, the three devil hunters making it rain bullets over the demons. The motorcycles tried to approach, but you would always threaten them with killer shots.

With Dante’s sharp eyes in the dark, he eventually hit one of the motorcycles in such a way it crashed a few meters away from you. With the right shot, he could make it explode – and it was a strategy to use. He just wanted some more of those goofs to approach, so he could take a lot of them at the same time.

One of the motorcycles, though, decided to be brave – or suicidal, depending on your point of view – and try to run through the three of you, almost running you over. This time, though, your reflexes were quick enough to dodge in time, but that made you three separate.

“Alright… You clowns are startin’ to piss me off…” With that rumbling comment from Dante, he held out his hand, summoning Devil Sword Dante in a blaze of fire.

You could hear Nero groaning – he definitely missed Red Queen at the moment and ever since Dante managed to summon his two main swords, Nero always complained he couldn’t be that cool while fighting.

Understandable. You were missing your very own sword – you could only wish you could make it come over to you that easily.

At this point, you were pretty sure you would win. As Dante slaughtered the demons – and whatever figure who tried to come any closer – the odds were certainly in your favor. You helped with some shots here and there, aiding his kills and getting the job done.

Until you felt your fingers tingling. Furrowing your brows, you looked down only to see your hands trembling. Your vision became blurry, as the world suddenly tilted under your feet. The gash in your cheek burned with the wrath of the fires of hell.

“What the…” You mumbled, opening and closing your eyes a few times. You could barely hear Nero calling your name: it seemed like he was stuck inside a tin can. “Nero… Dante…?”

“Ei, babe, what’s…” Dante lowered his sword and, before he could finish asking, the dark figure with the amulet finally stepped near enough for you to see it was nothing but a human – which he confirmed when he lowered the hood of the dark robe he, and the other humans, were wearing. “You better start talkin’ before I decide to cut off that ugly head of yours. What’s goin’ on?!”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquittance, son of Sparda.” The man allowed a calm smile to grace his lips framed by a well-maintained goatee as you felt a sting of fire coursing through your whole body. You tried to keep it in, but you couldn’t hold back a groan. “I am kindly inviting you and your… Relative…” The man gestured to Nero, still completely ignoring you and the ever so worsening pains. “To join us in the old town for a talk. We have much to discuss.”

“What the fuck did you do to y/n?”

The man looked into Dante’s blue eyes – now with some sparks of red, teeth already growing into fangs – knowing quite well all their intentions would be fumbled if Dante and Nero decided to trigger right then and there.

And that was why you were an insurance.

“It’s a simple poison, found in the underworld. If the cure isn’t administered soon enough, though, your… Pet, I take it… Will perish.” The man treated you with disdain, making Dante already try to walk towards him to have his sword on the man’s throat. The human, though, lifted his hand, showing a glowing purple vial. “No human antidote can counter it, only the demonic one. This is the only sample in miles. They have only a few minutes, if I am not wrong, and the death… Oh, it is exquisitely agonizing.”

Dante’s jaw was locked. You could barely see through your blurring vision, fighting every fiber of your being to remain on your two feet – but your red devil was tense and ready to fight… Ready to kill. If he let his demon out, there wouldn’t be a soul left to tell the story of that night.

“What do you want?” His voice had a slight tinge of distortion – as you could almost sense, Dante was a word away from triggering.

“You and your kin to put down your weapons and follow us. We have prepared a very important celebration tonight and you are the guests of honor – especially you, Tony Redgrave.” You choked upon hearing that name: very few people knew that alias and, judging by Nero’s confused reaction, even fewer than you thought. “Do this, and we shall save your… Pet.”

“Call y/n ‘pet’ again, I’ll cut your tongue off, smartass.” Dante scoffed, apparently not affected by hearing his old name from the lips of a shady character in such a desolated place. “Don’t usually trust strangers in the middle of a crossroads.”

“As proof of my good faith, son of Sparda…” With those words, the man handed the vial to one of the other hooded figures – another human like him, wearing a dark robe to their feet, keeping their head down under the hood – who approached you slowly. Dante had his eyes trained on them, watching their every move. “I’m taking the first step. Lower your weapons, and my assistant shall heal your… Human.”

You couldn’t keep yourself standing anymore. With your stomach burning, you feel to your knees, barely able to see Dante in amidst the darkness and your blurry vision. Closing your eyes, your head was in such pain you thought soon blood would run down your face instead of tears. Your heart pounded on your chest quicker than when you rode the Cavaliere with your red devil and, as much as you didn’t like to admit, you came to the conclusion that was like dying felt like.

“Alright. Do your thing then.” Dante lowered his hand and his sword was gone in a small set of flames, Ebony and Ivory being abandoned on the floor.

“What…?! Dante…!” Nero was ready to fight back, to get that vial and cure you himself, but he saw the plea in his uncle’s eyes. You were outnumbered and you were dying from a poison none of you had the cure – only them. If they wanted, they could break that vial in a million pieces and leave you to die a horrifying death. “C’mon, we can…” But even Nero didn’t know what more they could do.

“Hey, Nero. Please.” Dante’s voice had no edge of playfulness or the typical easygoing tone. He was serious, defeated even. He would allow himself to be enslaved if that meant saving you – and all he was asking was for Nero to put down his weapons.

And so he did, with Blue Rose hitting the floor right after.

As soon as the assistant inserted the purple antidote into your bloodstream, others quickly approached Nero and Dante, locking heavy silver bracelets around their wrists – immediately cutting out their demonic powers. It was a first for Nero, who stumbled around and seemed like a dizzy, drunk young man. Dante, on the other hand, knew exactly how that felt like, having gone through something similar during his time at the Temen-ni-gru. Ancient demonic wisdom, infused in those bracelets to suppress demonic power and subdue powerful demons to a weaker one’s will… Or to enslave them for eternity, as it happened to Vergil once.

“Come. The night has only just begun.”

You felt your head burning as you watched them viciously knocking down Dante and Nero – something you thought you would never see in your entire lifetime. Falling to the floor of the road, you tried to get up, barely having any strength in your arms. You would drag yourself to them if you had to, but you wouldn’t give up… At least, not until your body gave out.

“What about their… Human… Master?” The assistant checked, standing right beside you but not moving a single finger to help you up.

“Leave them. A weak thing like that deserves to die like roadkill.” The man dismissed with a quick wave of his hand, ordering the others to carry the Spardas back to the old town.

Warm tears trickled down your eyes. You tried to get up, but your body was slowly giving out – the burning sensation, though, was fading away. Indeed, the antidote was working, but your body took the toll of it.

You weren’t weak. You were not. All those years, Dante kept fighting by your side, singing your praises as one of the most powerful humans he had ever met. You defeated the worst of Hell, you faced nonstop hordes alongside your red devil. A stuck-up snob like that unknown guy had no right to call you weak. You were not weak. You were not…

Your hands started giving out as you slowly tried to claw your way to their direction – but they were already long gone and the only soul left in the middle of that desolated highway was you.

But you were human. More powerful than any demon, as Dante would say. Why couldn’t you get up, then…?

Your arms gave out and you hit your face on the warm road, eyes closing in the middle of nowhere. The last thing you heart before fainting, was a blade cutting the asphalt right next to your hand – ready for you when you opened your eyes again.

*

“What are we going to do?!”

“I don’t know!”

“We can’t just leave!”

“I know!”

“What are we going to DO?!”

“I don’t KNOW!”

That was the main conversation back and forth between Kyrie and Nico as the gunsmith virtuosa drove the highway as if the devil’s herd itself was chasing them viciously, their hot breath on their necks, ready to take their souls.

Kyrie was standing right by the driver’s seat, holding for dear life on the very thing, as Nico gripped the wheel like she never did before in her life. They both screamed while the van was practically trotting on the road, bumping on every single stone on the way since Nico couldn’t care less to dodge at that point.

It was actually very impressive she never came to swallow her cigarette.

“What do you think will happen to them?!” Kyrie immediately gripped the necklace Nero gifted her in Fortuna – she saw it as a good luck charm, and would wear it anywhere. It made her feel closer to him and, whenever she was in trouble or uncertain, touching it would make her feel safe.

But never in her life it was the other way around: this time, she was worried Nero wouldn’t be safe. And that was so new.

“I dunno! I-I-I mean... Dante will…! He will, right?!” Nico stuttered back, barely able to think. If she could, she would light five or six cigarettes in a row. “I mean he… He called me Goldstein, for Hell’s sakes! He never does that! I’m as scared as you!”

“I know! They never did that!” Kyrie was about to cry – and she didn’t even know which emotion was making her feel like overflowing. “What about y/n? All of their swords are here, they took only their handguns!”

“What?!” Nico quickly glanced back only to see the three swords calmly lounging in the van. “Oh, fuck! I mean… Well, Dante… He has that big ass flamin’ sword inside ‘im, right? He can summon at any moment…! Right?!”

“I hope he can! I’m used to Nero, I don’t know how Dante’s sword works!” Kyrie rolled her eyes in pure despair, going back in the van to check on everyone’s swords. Red Queen now looked so quiet, so… Dead. It didn’t sit well with her, not like that. It had to be with Nero. He needed his sword. “Y/n knows how Dante works!”

“Oh, be damned! We’re on a hell of a fucked-up situation here, Kyrie!”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice…” Kyrie sighed, plopping down on the couch and cradling her head with both of her hands. After a few seconds of pure desperation, the woman turned her hazelnut eyes back to the Red Queen. The sword seemed like it was ready to rev-up, burning to be back in the hands of her master – like it was as annoyed as Kyrie to be away from Nero, sensing, like her, that he needed his weapon.

In the distance, Kyrie saw Rebellion trembling, as if it had the very same problem. Differently from Red Queen, though, it didn’t seem like a figment of Kyrie’s imagination: even if the van was kicking and prancing around, she could clearly see Rebellion was vibrating, as if it was ready to take flight. She remembered Nero telling her Dante could summon his sword like that: a simple call and she would fly over to his hands, no matter where he was.

“We need to go back.” The resolution settled in Kyrie’s heart as she stood up, holding the charm on the necklace she loved so much.

“What?! Have you lost your mind too?!” Nico didn’t know if she looked back to Kyrie or if she kept an eye on the road. “Those creepy dudes will kebab us in half a second if we step in that ol’ town!”

“They need their weapons, Nico! Right now, we’re the only ones that can help them get back to their owners!” Kyrie walked back to the virtuosa – again holding on for dear life on the driver’s seat. “If we don’t do that, their chance of getting away is very low! They’re depending on us to do the right thing, Nico!” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “Nero needs me. He saved me so many times, I will not fail him now.”

Nico remained silent for a while, frowning while chewing on the tip of her cigarette – the trotting of the van making her go up and down on the driver’s seat, almost hitting her head on the roof sometimes.

Kyrie was right. She knew the little angel was right. Nero hadn’t saved just Kyrie throughout the years, he had saved Nico too: she was just a crazy gunsmith with a very dubious driving style and a van to get the devil hunter around, but he was the one who would always get the job done. And when trouble came a little too close to them, Nero always made sure it would never even touch Nico. She could drive fearlessly through a horde of demons because she knew Nero would slay them all. That was something her heart always took for granted.

Now it was time to pay it back. It was time for her to risk her skin to get Nero out of trouble.

And damn well she would.

“Alright, little angel! We need a plan to save those three asses!” The resolution that resided in Kyrie now bled to Nico, making the angelic woman beam a satisfied and proud smile. “I’d say we go in guns blazin’, but we don’t have any guns – and those swords are useless for us.”

“I say we take a stealthy route. Calm down, breathe, think. Go back and give them their swords to let them do their job.” Kyrie’s voice now was a lot steadier, finally feeling a little surer of herself.

In the middle of nowhere, Nico slowed down until she stopped the van. The two women finally looked at each other.

“This gon’ be madness, you know that, right?” The virtuosa made sure Kyrie understood the seriousness of the situation they got themselves into.

“Yeah. But we’ve never really got scared of a little madness, have we?”

With an accomplice look, they giggled at each other, the tension finally seeming to dissipate a little. Leaving the driver’s seat, Nico stood up to check on the swords and think of a plan with Kyrie.

“What do ya think? They got kidnapped by that… What the hell was that, anyway?!”

“It sure looked a lot like the Order of the Sword…” Kyrie sighed, having memories of her younger days in Fortuna – making Nico remember as well. “I’d call it a cult. And I don’t know… Maybe they did get away, but…”

Nico waited for her to continue, but the words got lost in her tongue. Holding her amulet once more, Kyrie sighed before speaking.

“I don’t feel right. Something is wrong. Something’s wrong with Nero.”

“Eh… You and y/n with your weird ‘bein’-the-lover-of-a-demon’ bond thing…” Nico raised one eyebrow, pretending to have shivers. “It’s spooky sometimes. But well, if you’re sayin’ somethin’ ain’t right, I believe ya.”

Before the two women could keep going, though, Rebellion started vibrating more violently, stealing their attention. They frowned, looking at the sword as she threw a tantrum – seemingly looking like it would gain life at any moment.

“Uuuuuh… What’s goin’ on…?”

“I don’t know! You’re the gunsmith; you should know about demon swords better than me!” And even if Kyrie scolded Nico, she couldn’t take her eyes from Rebellion – after all, neither of the ladies knew what the sword was about to do.

“You’re the one datin’ a demon!”

“Nero’s weapons work a lot differently than Dante’s!”

With a loud clang, the eyes on the horned skull near the handle of Rebellion lit up in red, the sword perking up in resolve. Kyrie let out a loud screech as Nico jumped back, ready to have to tame the thing – after all, they had never seen that happening before.

In a blink, Rebellion went flying out of one of the van’s windows, crashing it like a million of stars, disappearing into the night.

Nico and Kyrie slowly looked at each other – their hearts beating furiously inside their chests.

“What the hell just happened…?”

“I think… I think that’s how Dante summons his sword…” Kyrie tried to explain in a whisper, still barely able to breathe.

“Doesn’t his sword come out of flames he summons from within’ himself, though…?” Nico couldn’t understand a single thing going on. She thought she knew how everything worked – but that Halloween was proving to be quite an adventure already.

“I don’t know…” Kyrie closed her eyes, keeping one hand over her heart. “Red Queen is very different…”

And, as if to agree with her, the sword herself revved up just a little, a few flames igniting for a couple of seconds. The two women stared at it, a little alarmed.

“And you? Not gonna say anythin’ for yourself too?” Nico pointed at your sword, not knowing what to expect.

With a little shake and a tingling sound, it seemed like your sword was telling off the gunsmith virtuosa.

Exchanging looks, the two women assessed the work they had in their hands.

Returning your sassy swords would be one hell of a ride.

*

It felt like the worst hangover of your life.

You slowly opened your eyes as pain reverberated through all the limbs on your body. Your head was pounding, every breath felt like your lungs were about to burst and your stomach apparently wouldn’t even be able to keep water down, if you had any.

As you came to your senses, you sat in the middle of the road, assessing your situation.

It was bad.

Really bad.

You were abandoned literally in the middle of nowhere. No one in sight: no town, no car, no soul, nothing. You could barely hold yourself together, let alone walk miles and miles in any direction to get anywhere. If you went to the old town to help Dante and Nero you would be more of a hinderance than anything else. If you went to the new town to get help and maybe meet Nico and Kyrie, you would probably arrive in the morning and, by then, the damage would be done already.

To say you were feeling useless was an understatement.

Looking around, though, you finally realized what was that slashing sound you heard before blacking out: Rebellion had carved the road, having come to your aid, as Dante said it would do if it felt you were in trouble – like it did to him. All you had to do was call; apparently, you did it unconsciously, seeking his help even when your mind was fading and all hope was gone.

You couldn’t help but smile – a bittersweet smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Well, thank you for coming, old friend…” Your started talking, using all your strength to get yourself on your feet again. It took you more than you expected. “But I guess I’m not in my best shape at the moment… I’ve no idea what to do.”

With those words, you gripped the handle of the legendary sword and pulled it off the ground. At least you could still wield it, even if you were tired and defeated.

“We’re in the middle of a lost crossroads, in this godforsaken piece of desert, no way back and no way forward – also no prospects of helping Dante and Nero. Let’s face it, Rebellion. We need a miracle.” You sighed, looking at the horned skull that embellished Dante’s first sword. With that, you summoned all the strength left in your body to rest it on your shoulders as your lover would always do – taking a deep breath and beginning your way to the old town. “Standing here will serve us nothing, though. I guess we gotta make it happen.”

“One should know they can always reach out for a miracle in the crossroads, little one.”

You turned around, startled, ready to put Rebellion to use – but the only thing you found in that empty road was… Yourself.

Yourself, but not really. Something was off. That same gut feeling you had before, started to form at the base of your stomach now. It was like staring at yourself in the mirror, but the eyes… Something was wrong with the eyes – as if they were not quite yourself. Looking down, the figure who slowly approached wearing your form had two sets of shadows – while you, yourself, had only one.

“Some would call that kind of miracle a curse.” You rebuked carefully, still studying that creature’s intentions. You had heard Dante and Vergil talking of doppelgangers, but that didn’t act like one: it was too sentient, too intelligent to be one.

“Not all of them were in your shoes.” The figure smiled – it was your smile, but with a different edge that made you feel slightly uncomfortable.

Either way, the creature – whatever it was – had reason on their side. Your situation was pretty hopeless and you still had a long way to go… You had much to do. Dante and Nero needed you. Whatever those cult like people wanted, it wasn’t good. The man knew Dante’s previous alias, and that was never a good omen.

For the first time, it was your red devil who needed the saving – and you weren’t nearly in no way, shape or form to do so.

You needed whatever help anyone could offer. You needed a miracle – or a curse.

“Now if you’re thinking I’m like those foolish cultists messing with powers they think they can control, you’re wrong. Besides, I could have killed you at any point while you were unconscious at the crossroads, even without Sparda’s beloved Rebellion by your side. I’m simply a bystander that’s looking to be entertained and eager to make mischief on this moonless night.” The figure paused and chuckled. “Not even Hecate could interfere – like she could, anyways.”

“Who are you…?” You asked carefully, wary of the utter convenience and situation at hand.

“My name has been lost for the ages, but it’s not of great importance. You, however, are much more interesting; after all, you are Dante Sparda, The Legendary Demon Hunter’s beloved and prized human. Untouched by demonic blood and yet able to wield one of the most powerful blades known to demonic kind. Consider yourself lucky to have such a powerhouse of a weapon by your side. However, I’m guessing that you’re in need of something with much more firepower to get your nephew and lover back.”

“How do you–“

“Sparda may have had many enemies, but there were a few of us demons that stayed loyal to him even after he left The Underworld.” With those words, the creature mimicking your appearance bowed a bit before turning a soften gaze to the sword in your hands. “It’s lovely to see you again, Rebellion, and I’m quite fond of your new powers as well; it’s a nice touch.”

“Wait a minute, you knew Sparda and served under him?” With your question, the figure wearing your likeness nodded. “Then why can’t you stop the cult that took Dante and Nero?”

“Simple, I’m not the one they’re trying to summon. However, though, they do have something of mine that I would like back.”

“And what would that be…?” When dealing with demons, all wariness couldn’t be enough.

“Dear ol’ Beau Blackwell’s skull, of course!!” Your mirror cackled before coughing politely. “You see, one of my subordinates double crossed me and took the damn fool before he was ready, and soiled the deal I had with him. So, when I came to collect, the body was there, but the head was missing along with his soul. Come a few decades later, I find what I’m looking for, but it’s out of my reach. See, us demons expend huge amounts of resources to stay in your world. It’s not as nice as the Underworld, but it’s decent at times.”

“Huh. So, the town folks were right about him taking a deal with a devil.” You murmured to yourself, one hand resting on your waist.

“Such a smart human, after all. Besides, when you meet the devil on the crossroads, on a pitch black night, talking to your mimic with two shadows… Such a bad omen indeed for most – but to others, a risky chance to turn things around, for a high price. If you know how to make a proper deal without losing it all in the end.”

Your eyes turned to the mirror of yourself – standing calmly in front of you, a peaceful smile on your face. Their eyes were not your own, those were demonic eyes. You were dealing with a demon in the crossroads – and that could turn into something really bad. Even if they were fond of Sparda, the very nature of trickster demons such as the one copying you was uncertain.

They could very well give you what you needed to succeed – but they could ask for an unfathomable price. Usually, the highest prices were always asked when people found themselves in desperate situations such as yours.

But your body was hurting. Your feet were barely able to hold you standing. Your hands were trembling, and you were pretty sure you could only wield Rebellion because the sword herself was aiding you – as Dante would if he was there. You were not in a position to deny any aid, you knew that – and the demon right in front of you knew it as well.

“Knowing how to make a deal is of little help when someone needs a deal.” You answered carefully, still watching the calmly smiling creature. “It usually exploits the one with less power.”

“However, I think you’ll like what I’ve got to offer – and you’ve got nothing to lose, after all.” Hearing that answer, you instinctively grabbed Rebellion tighter, making your clone let out a distorted laughter in amusement. “Oh, relax. I don’t want your soul or to cross blades with you; I’d rather not have Dante put me into the ground like he did with Mundus. I simply want a favor done and, in exchange, you get a way out.”

“What’s the catch?”

“You’ve been trained so well.” The creature’s compliment came without malice. “I simply want that idiot’s skull back and, in turn, you save those two Spardas and prevent a demon from coming into this reality empowered with human sacrifices.”

“And how do I know you’ll make good on your word…?” You had one of your eyebrows raised, the deal sounding too good to be true.

Your mimic whistled loudly and a demonic horse with six legs came out of the right path’s fog. Four blazing red eyes looked over curiously, as the black strong body had strange demonic symbols on its shoulders. There was a saddle, reins and a chest plate adorned with a black feather inside a book with a claw clutching them both: the demon’s symbol, embellished on the surface. Its main was wispy like ashes from a fire, but the fire was coming from inside the creature itself.

What really caught your attention, was the sounds of snarls and soft growls, as multiple demonic coyote-dog-like creatures kept their distance – but stood at the edge of the fog, as if waiting orders.

“My horse, Slade, shall take you to the cultists so you can put the skull in his saddle bag here. Then sound the horn to signal the pack it’s time to feed. Afterwards, the pack of hounds will devour those cultists, since they are made of the souls of those they’ve slaughtered, itching for revenge. All you have to do is prove you are not terrified and step up to save the boys from a cruel fate.”

Oh, you knew what that was. You knew what you would have to become. Meeting a demon like that, in the middle of the desert, offering you their horse and pack of vengeful hell-hounds as power for you to control? You could almost hear the faint song, whistling ghostly in the distance…

Then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride, tryin’ to catch the devil’s herd… Across the endless skies.

With your skeptic look, your mimic smiled in amusement.

“Are you brave enough to take the reins or do you want to wander home without your lover and nephew?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You were out of options. Going back meant leaving them behind and failing to save them – you couldn’t do that to Nero, to Dante. Many times Dante tapped into the worst of himself, the darkest places of his soul, to summon a power he despised to save you and have you back home – safe and sound into his arms. Many times he became a demon fiercer and more powerful than those he was fighting against, even if he loathed it.

You could do that for him too. At least once in your lifetime – maybe for the only and last time.

Sensing your resolve, Rebellion settled herself on your back as you walked forward to the demonic horse and held its reins – knowing it was time to aid you, as she had aided Dante a thousand times before. Your mirrored image watched you with a pleased smile.

“Now, take the left path; it’ll take you straight to the abandoned church where the cultists are. Get going, rider, you’ve got until dawn.” The doppelganger reminded you before plopping a black cowboy hat on your head, only for you to look up in surprise when the figure was gone.

You closed your eyes for a second as your whole body seemed to be engulfed in flames – the pain lasted for only a little while, though. When it washed off, it was as if you had never been hurt in the first place: you could breath properly again, your limbs weren’t hurting and all your strength – and more – was back into your body. Taking another step, though, you heard a ringing that wasn’t there before.

Looking down, you realized your clothes had changed: an all-black cowboy attire, covered your body, fitting it perfectly; with a heavy black coat down to your ankles keeping you warm in the chilly desert night. The cowboy boots had spurs that ringed like little silver bells every time you took a step – and, as you did it again, you realized you left a trail of fire behind, melting the asphalt with your footsteps.

That wasn’t the work of the demon who used your appearance to strike a deal with you – as you looked back into the four curious blazing eyes of the demonic horse standing in front of you, you realized it was its way of saying it also chose you to be its rider. At least for a while.

“Demons are always dramatic, aren’t they…” You shook your head, sighing as you made your way back to the horse who kindly awaited you – now looking like a rider who deserved their service.

As you looked around the crossroads, you could see the pack of hounds remained, waiting for your orders. The horse lowered itself down to let you onto its back and the pack of demons perked up in excitement. As you got into the saddle and adjusted yourself, the horse got up and the demonic pack howled to each other – as if signaling it was time to move out.

You adjusted your new hat as you nudged the horse forward onto the left path. The soft sounds of claws were in the distance as the pack followed you both.

“C’mon, Slade. It’s time to burn some asphalt.” Hitting the open road, you cracked the reins and the horse took off into a gate and then galloped once he had hit top speed – the trail of burning fire in your wake, as you did yourself with your footsteps.

In the distance behind you, the faint noise of a stampede was close by, but as you looked over your shoulder, you could only see the pack of demonic coyote creatures following at a distance.

Yipping, yowling and snarling hungrily as they followed in excitement. You looked forward, holding Slade’s rein tightly and feeling the weight of the Rebellion on your back. Those cultists, whoever they were, better be ready to fight – you were coming for them.

Yippie-yi-o, yippie-yi-yay… Ghost riders in the sky.

*

If Dante had to guess, he’d say the cultists would lock them up in the desecrated church of that derelict town, as that kind of people would usually do. To his shock, though, he woke up on an old rotten bed that, if he moved too much, would definitely fall apart with his weight. Even so, it was able to cradle the half-demon with ease, and it didn’t turn into dust as Dante sat on it’s edge, massaging his head on the spot those damn cultists hit him.

“Took some time to wake up, old man.” Nero mumbled from across the room - making Dante look at his own kin on the same situation he was. At least, Nero’s bed was made of brass.

“Eh, those cultists weren’t jokin’ ‘round. Hit my head pretty hard; gimme a break, will ya?” Dante shrugged, shaking his head and looking down to his feet.

Nero furrowed his brows. In all his life, he never thought he would see his uncle so... Defeated. After all, it was Dante they were talking about, not some random human on the street. He couldn’t shake off that feeling that it was all so... Easy.

“Ei, kid. I know what’cha thinkin’. And you’re damn right, I didn’t fight as much as I should’ve...” Dante sighed, raising his head back up again. In the dark, Nero could see his blue eyes, and they had a tinge of melancholy even with the slight smile Dante carried on his lips. “But out of everyone in the crew, I think you’re the one who can understand me the best. Imagine if it was your lil’ angel on that situation. What would you do...?”

Nero scoffed, not wanting to look into his uncle’s eyes. Bringing up Kyrie was a sure way into Nero’s heart - and bleeding heart even. He would die for her, he would kill the whole world for her, he would destroy gods and demon kings if he had to - but he would never let any harm come to Kyrie. And if the only way to save her was to put down his weapons and let himself be taken - by enemies or even death - Nero would do it without thinking and without doubt.

Yes. Out of all the crew, he could understand Dante’s action the best. It was too easy to take them, because those damn people knew quite well the very best way to enslave a Sparda was to tear their heart apart.

“Eh... Guess there wasn’t really a good way out of it, huh...?” Nero massaged his own head, shaking it right after. “But we gotta do somethin’ now. I mean, we can’t sit around and just... I don’t know, what the hell do those creeps want with us anyway...?”

Weirdly enough, Dante smiled until it turned into a good laugh. Nero furrowed his brows, staring at his uncle thinking he had finally lost his mind - the kid wouldn’t complain too much, he could perfectly understand where Dante was coming from.

“What a situation, huh? To think one year ago, it was y/n and Kyrie in the same shoes as us!” Dante shook his head, slapping his leg with a hearty laugh upon realizing it. “There’s somethin’ of poetic in this, kid!”

“Huh. There kinda is...” With that, Nero couldn’t stop himself from laughing as well. He wondered if that weird tugging in his heart was what Kyrie felt when she was locked up in that church with you last Halloween, getting ready to forcefully marry a demon. “I just hope they won’t dress us up in those ugly ass wedding clothes.”

“Oh, no, no, no. If they try, I’m tearing them apart!” Dante answered letting a louder laugh out of his chest. Nero couldn’t help but smile alongside him: it was good to see his heart coming back.

“Well, not to spoil your party, but I don’t think we can do much with those things lockin’ us up.” Nero raised both of his hands, showing off the silver shackles supressing their demonic powers. “Never felt anythin’ like this before, it’s nasty.”

“Yeah, those things are no joke...” Dante glanced down at his own wrists, slightly sighing. “But I’ve been through it before. Just gotta relearn how to fight like a human, that’s all.”

“You say that as if it was easy.”

“It kinda is, kid.” Dante shrugged, looking around the room, trying to come up with some plan to get them out of there. “It took quite a while to have my demonic powers awaken, so I remember how it feels like. I fought as a human for a long time, as long as you did. Well... As human as we get.” He winked at Nero, getting up from the bed and pacing around the room - the wooden floor creaking as his weight shifted the old boards; but never looking like it would give out. “You just gotta fight without the good ol’ demonic leverages.”

“What do ya mean it took you as long as I did?” Nero had his eyebrows furrowed, head pending to the side. They never really talked about Dante’s and Vergil’s lives before Nero met them - even if everything they had lived shaped so much of what happened to him. Either way, it wasn’t an easy subject, and both twins didn’t enjoy much reminiscing about the past: Nero had to piece up their story like a huge puzzle he was only given jigsaw pieces every now and then. “I thought you guys always knew about your heritage. I mean, it wasn’t like me who didn’t know why the hell I was different from everyone else and had a weird demonic arm.”

“You haven’t had it easy, huh, kid...?” Dante wheezed, shaking his head as he still looked around the room, trying to pick up anything on the cult or on a way out. “I knew my heritage, yes, but not what it could do. Your dad found it out as a kid, when those demons almost killed him the night our home burned to ashes. But me...? Well, it took some time. I survived, remember? I started workin’ and opened up the shop, and your dad tracked me down. Instead of bein’ happy I was alive, guess what he wanted...?”

“Power...” Nero mumbled, looking down at his newly acquired human arm - something that was still so weird to him. If he had to be honest to himself, he still kind of missed it as a demonic thing or the prosthetic one Nico built him. It was very strange having to adapt being so... Mundane.

“Bullseye.” Dante winked at him, with a humorless laugh at the end. “It was his first attempt at opening the Gates of Hell, that dumbass. Still, he kicked my ass and impaled me with Rebellion.” With those words, Nero’s eyes shot back at Dante, a little shocked with that story. “At the time, I thought he wanted to kill me, but now... I have my doubts. Your dad’s a weird guy, you know? He won’t tell you he likes you, but he will stab you with your own sword right in the chest to awake your dormant demonic power so you can accept the legacy your dad of the year left you when you were born.”

Again, Nero furrowed his brows. Perhaps it wasn’t that strange he had such a hard time around his feelings - and it was actually a very good thing he had Kyrie around to help him let them out in a healthy way. He got to learn something Dante and Vergil never had the chance to learn: the only thing both of them knew was harshness. Could Nero really ask anything more from them...?

“I was around the age you were back when we met in Fortuna, I think... So you see, I spent quite a while fighting as humanly as possible, with no leverage whatsoever.” Dante pointed at himself, finally stopping in the middle of the room. “I think Verge would have more of a problem in this situation than both of us.”

“Well... If that’s the case...” Nero spoke slowly, still processing everything Dante had told him. With time, he learned not to make much of a fuss when Dante or Vergil shared something about their history and their life with him: it made them feel like it was ok to be vulnerable if it wasn’t treated as a big thing, so Nero would keep it that way. “Then I should have more of an easy time than you.”

“That’s the spirit, kid!” Dante now rested his hands on his waist, sighing while looking around the room. “Now. We have no idea what those Eyes Wide Shut wannabes want downstairs. Windows and doors are sealed with demonic stuff to keep us in, so we’re gonna have to force our way out somehow.”

“Ok. I say we try one of the windows and sneak out. We can try to take ‘em out quietly and figure out what they want with us in the way.” Nero finally got to his feet winning a grin from Dante - who was more than ready to agree with his nephew.

“That will not be necessary, Sparda’s kin.” Both of them were interrupted by the leader of the cultists - still wearing the dark robe, but now permanently without his hood. His eyes were cold, smart and arrogant; the beard well trimmed and intricate. He carried himself with an attitude that certainly screamed he thought he was much better than any other human in town. “I didn’t bring you here to have you in the dark regarding our festivities - you are our guests of honor, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah, King Charles, cut the crap.” Nero rolled his eyes, tired of the way the man behaved. If there was something that pissed him off, that would be entitled people, completely full of themselves. “What the hell’s goin’ on here?”

“Even if you have a share of Sparda’s precious blood, boy, you are not the main guest. Know your place.” The man was clearly respecting Nero more than he respected you because of his heritage - or else, he wouldn’t even be addressing Dante’s kin.

“And you should know yours, fancy pants. Haven’t your mother ever taught you to respect people?” Dante had his hands on his hips again, but his eyes burnt like the fire he carried inside him. “Remember you have to keep us with these things so we won’t kick your ass. Give us enough of a reason, we’ll do it anyway. With or without demonic power.” He showed off the shackles to the man, noticing the human winced ever so slightly - trying to appear Dante’s words had no effect at all. “Who the hell are you? And you better answer this time ‘round.”

“You can call me by my family’s name, Blackwell. I’m Beau Blackwell’s great-grandson - and it is an honor to meet Sparda’s kin.” The man bowed his head in a sign of respect - something Dante didn’t do back and that made Nero smile. “I take it the townspeople of Silverstone did their job of telling you my family’s history.”

“If you’re talkin’ ‘bout the contract, hell yeah they did.” Dante’s eyes were now sharp, taking a guess where they were at the moment. If he could bet, he would say that was the old Blackwell mansion at the abandoned old town. “Guess stupidity runs in the family.”

“Damn, you beat me to it...!” Nero mumbled, making Dante smile proudly. At least they shared the same sense of humor - and taunts.

“I will admit my kin did play with powers much too great for his understanding and that was his downfall. He was too arrogant to realize he was biting much more than he could chew.” As Blackwell spoke, Dante and Nero just exchanged looks, having the same thing in their mind: the irony that he was criticizing the same thing they thought about him. “I, in the other hand, am more careful. I have studied the arcane and occult arts; learned how to wield them, tame them. There’s much more to ask of demonic creatures than petty, mundane things like money... There’s power. That’s what my kin failed to notice.”

“Oh, now there’s a word I never like bein’ thrown around...” Dante shook his head while mumbling to his nephew- and Nero couldn’t refrain to notice it was because of Vergil’s obsession with it for so long.

But, in all honestly, after everything he went through in Fortuna, humans seeking demonic power was never a good thing in Nero’s book either.

“Come. I will take you around the old Blackwell Mansion and you can be aware of what you will be taking part in.”

But, even with the man’s gesture and inviting demeanor, neither Dante or Nero moved a single step.

“Yeah, you see, we make a point on not taking part in things against our will.” Nero crossed his arms, making sure he wouldn’t leave without Dante. If his uncle stayed, he would stay.

Blackwell immediately frowned - not the calmest cult leader they had ever seen. Something about it reminded Nero of Sanctus.

“I am not asking you and you will be part of it - whether you make it a point or not.” The man raised his head high, as if to overcompensate for the fact he was smaller than the two devil hunters inside the room. “I have tried to be cordial and I will remain as such. I planned this night for a very long time, and neither of you will fumble it. The ritual will go on. The sacrifices will be made. The blood will be spilled. The demon king will rise. You can either take part peacefully or by force - but trust me, if you choose the second option, it will be painful.”

Dante wasn’t afraid of pain - and neither was Nero. Those words weren’t alarming per se: after all, it was to be expected of a cult that they would be made of sacrifices and blood offerings somehow, but they didn’t know if they were the only victims chosen for it.

What alarmed them the most, though, was the demon king part. There were a few of them, yes, but Dante couldn’t stop his blood from running cold as soon as he heard that.

After all, Mundus was a king. Could it be that godforsaken spiteful creature found a way to come back, so many years after Dante put it to rest? That it wasn’t for all eternity as he thought he had managed to do so...?

If Mundus decided to rear up its ugly head again, Dante wanted to be at the seat of honor to watch him rise just to tear him back into pieces and make him taste death once more.

As if noticing the sudden shift in his uncle’s heart, Nero looked back at Dante, waiting for an answer - but seeing the murderous glint in those ever easygoing eyes.

“Show us around, then. I guess gettin’ to know the stage of such a hideous play wouldn’t hurt.”

Blackwell had a peaceful smile back to his lips, finally allowing them to leave the room - but Nero could sense something was different; it seemed as if Dante could tear a demon king with his bare hands in the blink of an eye, but he was just waiting for it to rise.

*

“How can... Y/n... Ugh... Carry this thing ‘round... So easily...?!”

Nico mumbled while carrying your sword, heavily strapped on the gunsmith virtuosa’s back like a backpack. She always thought it should weight very little - after all, you always pulled the most incredible acrobatics while fighting - and you were human, just like her.

But the woman couldn’t deny: after walking around with that thing weighing on her shoulders, she started feeling a pain she wasn’t used to. Demonic metal was more efficient and lighter than any human and earthly metal, but still... It felt like she was carrying at least two guitars strapped on her back.

“Y/n is a trained hunter, they’re all used to it.” And even with that comment, Kyrie’s voice didn’t seem to struggle as much as Nico’s. She had dragged Red Queen around countless times to bring it to Nero, so dragging it once again through the desert wasn’t much news to her.

Neither to Red Queen. The sword always knew that when it was in Kyrie’s hands, she would soon find her proper wielder’s hands again to wreak havoc.

“Tell me ‘bout it... We’re all a bunch of weirdos, that’s what we... Ugh... Are!”

Kyrie had to giggle with Nico’s complaints. Yes, you were a bunch of weirdos, but that’s what made you all a family, wasn’t it? And family was always there for each other.

After they decided to take your weapons back to you, Nico drove all the way to the old town - and as soon as the ghostly, abandoned wreckage of a city appeared in their view, the gunsmith found a hidden place to park the van. Behind a few tall rocks, the Devil May Cry on wheels would be safe until that night was over - at least, they hoped it would.

Taking the swords in their hands, the two women started making their way to the old town - away from the main road, so they would have a better chance sneaking in unnoticed - and formulated the best plan they could at the moment.

“Ok. We’re almost there. So, we’re going in, and we’ll find a place to hide...” Kyrie started going over said plan, to make sure she and Nico were on the same page. Too much had already gone wrong that Halloween, they didn’t need even more problems.

“We’ll listen around to those assholes and figure out where they’re keepin’ the damsels in distress.” Nico’s answer was almost immediate, making Kyrie giggle. It was a first, imagining Nero as the damsel in distress and her saving him. “We’ll head over where they are...”

“Give them back their swords, and let them do what they do best.” Kyrie finished with a rather peaceful smile, given the situation. “Here. Let’s sneak in through here...!”

Going around the buildings, Nico and Kyrie entered what would be a dark alley between two wooden, rotten buildings in town. Going in from the back, they kept themselves low, walking side by side until they were the closest they could be of the main street. They could hear the cultists talking and patrolling the street, so they maintained utmost silence to get through them completely unnoticed.

The main street ended in a big plaza, with a large, decrepit mansion being the last building on it - and the only one with a semblance of light: not electrical, but a set of candles lit it from the inside, almost like a jack-o-lantern. The cultists roamed around the main street, but the larger number was definitely inside the mansion; after all, Kyrie and Nico could hear them chanting something they couldn’t understand.

“What do you think...?” Nico whispered to Kyrie, barely being able to hear her own self.

“They’re either in prison or... In there.” The woman answered in the same tone, pointing at the mansion at the end of the road. Nico sighed.

“I was hopin’ you wouldn’t say that... How are we gonna find ‘em in there...?!”

“I don’t know, but we have to think of a plan.”

The certainty in Kyrie’s voice was a little more reassuring - after all, they had a whole city swarming with cultists to cross and a mansion to infiltrate; all while carrying your weapons. They thought it wouldn’t be easy, but they didn’t expect that level of difficulty.

*

“Ok, I’m sayin’ it... We got a huge fuckin’ problem this time, Dante.”

Nero and Dante found themselves in a big party room, entirely lit with candles and decorated with sigils drawn with fresh blood - on the walls and on the floor. The biggest sigil, forming a closed circle, was in the middle of the room, glistening on the wooden floor. Cultists guarded the two entries and every window - big windows, that still had glasses on them.

The two devil hunters were seated on the middle of the circle, with their backs to each other, arms tied together so they wouldn’t escape.

“Beau Blackwell played with a demon he could not tame and he thought he could understand it.” Blackwell explained as they moved into the party room, revealing the ritual setting - everything one would expect on a ritual to summon a demon. “I, on the other hand, intend to do something much smarter. And that, involves... You.”

With a gesture from his hands, some of the cultists overpowered the devil hunters, guiding them to the center of the circle. Nero tried to fight, but immediately stopped as soon as he saw Dante followed the cultists calmly, almost sitting on his chair as if he was indeed a guest of honor. With his eyebrows furrowed, Nero did the same. After all, Dante must’ve known what he was doing, right?

Right...?

“Well, you’d usually need human blood to summon a demon, smart ass.” Dante’s comment was calm and cheerful, even, while he allowed the cultists to tie his hands behind his back and intertwine the ties with Nero’s.

“Oh, that will be arranged. There are many in my flock who are willing to serve such a higher purpose.” Blackwell smiled kindly, opening his arms to show around the room. “But a man with your knowledge must have noticed, this is not a common demon summoning ritual. It’s for a higher rank, a king - and one with that status would only come with a more special blood being spilled.”

“Eh. That’s why you need us, then...” Nero murmured, shaking his head. “And then what, smart ass? Gonna strike a deal of your own, too?”

“Oh, no. To summon him, I need you. To bind him, I need Dante.” Blackwell opened a wicked smile, making the room fall into complete silence as the two devil hunters didn’t say a word. “My ancestor made the mistake of gambling with a demon. I shall not make the same mistake - I will bind the demon and make it answer to my very own command. I will have all its power to myself, and there will be no one to stop my will. But to do so, I need powerful blood to do the binding - and there is no blood more powerful than Sparda’s blood.”

“Well, I’ll like to see you try that, Blackwell!” Dante started laughing, leaning back on his chair. “Stupidity really does run in the family, eh?”

“Apparently, it does.” Blackwell made a small gesture towards Dante and Nero, calling the cultists back to their places guarding the room. “The festivities will begin at 3 a.m. It’s just a small wait, but you will have the time to catch up... And say your goodbyes.”

Those were the last words Blackwell told them before leaving the room. Since then, the devil hunters had remained in silence, thinking about everything that had happened so far - and how to get out of that situation.

“Well, kid... After livin’ as much as I have, you’ll be able to say...”

“You’ve had worse, yeah, yeah, I know...” Nero laughed, shaking his head while staring at his beaten up boots. “But I mean. I’m gonna be sacrificed with a random crazy cultist to raise a demon king from Hell. You’re gonna be sacrificed to bind the demon king. Things aren’t lookin’ too good, man.”

“I just wanted to know which demon king they’re tryin’ to bring up this time.” Dante sighed, leaning back on the chair again. “But I guess there’ll be no old acquaintances today. That’s already a good thing, kid.”

“You... You were afraid that Mundus dude would be back...?” Nero’s question was almost as quiet as a whisper, barely audible for anyone who didn’t have a demonic hearing like theirs.

“Hmmm...” Dante’s answer took some time to come, even after he hummed in return. Nero rarely saw his uncle being that quiet and somber. “The world doesn’t need him rearin’ up that ugly head of his again.”

“Well... You killed him a long time ago, didn’t ya...?” This time, Dante only answered Nero with a shake of his head and a quiet hum. “I don’t think we’ve to worry ‘bout him, then, you’re pretty good at your job.”

“Huh. Thanks, kid...” Dante had a slight smile on his lips, but his words had an uncharacteristic bitterness to them. “But some demons have trouble stayin’ dead. Someone has to make sure that doesn’t happen to Mundus.”

Silence fell between them once again in the room. Nero kept looking at his boots, but his thoughts ran at a thousand miles per hour. He knew it was because of Mundus that his family was as broken as it was, that he never had a chance to have something normal. He knew it was because of that demon that Dante and Vergil had broken childhoods and carried a trauma that shaped their whole lives. But he never really understood the burden Dante decided to carry on his shoulders of ridding the world of such a horrifying demon - of making sure Mundus would never do to anyone else what he did to his family, to him.

It was a good path. A right path, some would say. But probably the most difficult one to follow: it was certainly the loneliest.

“Well, you got me with ya this time. That should account for somethin’, right?” Nero nudged Dante with his shoulder, hearing a slight laugh from his uncle.

“That does, kid. It certainly does.” With that answer, Dante sighed again, stretching his back and legs for a while. “Now, remember what I told ya? Fightin’ like a human?”

“Yeah...?”

“Good. ‘Cause that’s what we’ll be doin’ when that clock hits 3 a.m. You better get those legs stretched and ready to do some damage.”

“Fuckin’ finally. I’m tired of waitin’ here!”

They didn’t really know what they would do to get themselves out of that one - but, at least, they were together. They would figure something out.

*

“Ok... So. We have to find a way in.” Kyrie murmured over to Nico, as both women found themselves ducking behind a set of dead bushes near the mansion.

They managed to get there undetected, counting at least fifteen cultists on their way to the house. Keeping themselves on the outskirts of the plaza, they circled around in the shadows and got into the main garden through a broken piece of the iron gate.

To their relief, there weren’t many cultists around the mansion: they were either inside or outside on the town.

“Yeah. Way in. The main door isn’t an option... Right?” Nico tried a little smile to Kyrie, who just shook her head in negative. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“Hmmm... I don’t see another entrance... Maybe there’s one in the back?” The woman tried looking above the bushes without being spotted but, as if on cue, a loud, ominous bell sounded from inside the house.

The two women immediately ducked even further, almost hugging each other from being startled. The bell sounded three times and they saw one of the cultists - now without wearing the cape’s hood - appearing on the balcony of the second floor.

“My children, it is time! Join us in sacrifice and festivity!” The man had his arms opened and his voice could be heard through the whole dead town.

Kyrie and Nico scooted even further in the shadows as the cultists on the main street left their duties to get inside the mansion. They watched the wicked procession of chanting voices through the dark street, entering one by one inside the house that seemed soon would fall apart.

“That’ll give me nightmares for years!” Nico whispered to Kyrie, shaking from a quick shiver that went down from the top of her skull to the base of her spine. “Damn cults.”

“Damn cults...” Kyrie whispered back, thinking how the Order of the Sword in Fortuna wasn’t that different.

As the heavy wooden doors of the mansion closed, the two women found themselves completely alone in that godforsaken ghost town in the middle of nowhere - being the only ones with some hope to save the devil hunters that night.

“What are we gonna do?” Nico had a tinge of desperation on her voice. “That creep said sacrifices, I heard it fine! You think they’re sacrificin’ the crew?”

“Well, if that is the plan, we can’t let that happen!” Kyrie had resolve in her hazelnut eyes, looking at the house over the dead bushes. “We have to try entering through the back. If there isn’t an entry through the back...”

“We are doomed!”

“No. We try something else. C’mon, Nico, they’re counting on us!”

“I-I-I know, but I don’t count on myself...!”

Before they could continue their discussion, they heard a thunderous noise in the distance - as if coming from the skies. Furrowing their brows, they searched everywhere, but there was nothing; not even a semblance of storm over their heads.

“You’re hearin’ that, right...? Right...?”

“Yeah...”

As soon as Kyrie answered, a vicious galloping came in with the wind. As they stared back on the main street, the figure of a fiery horse running with all might with a black rider on its saddle appeared like lightning, approaching at an inhuman speed.

“You’re... Seein’ that...”

“Yes. Yes.” Kyrie shook her head enthusiastically - probably with the same enthusiasm she wanted to ran away.

Before the two women could think of running, though, the horse reached the plaza - and they could finally see the face of the rider as the horse ran around the perimeter of the place; the rider cracking a fiery whip to draw the attention of the cult.

“Is that... Y/n?! But... We... They... Those assholes didn’t take everyone?!” Nico stumbled over her words, as both of them watched you in awe... And horror.

“Apparently not!” Kyrie’s heart danced inside her chest as the man who previously summoned everyone to the ‘festivities’ ran to the porch once again, having a few members of the cult join him - the others took glimpses of the plaza from inside the mansion, through the half broken windows.

You circled the plaza one last time, heading right to the iron gate - now open, which you saw almost as an invitation. You could feel the unease in the air, as Slade slowed its steps and entered the garden, coming to a stop without even your command.

Looking up, you finally saw Blackwell’s face for the second time that night. Now, he had his eyebrows up in shock, recognizing your face under the cowboy hat. In such a short time frame, you could say you had one hell of a makeover.

“Either you let me in willingly, or I’ll force myself in.” You stated loud and clear, having your hand ready on the hunting horn on the saddle horn. “You’ve got one chance to cooperate.”

“Bold words coming from just a pitiful human.” Blackwell’s response was almost spat on your face, with a small laugh that made his cultists giggle alongside him. “It’ll take more than just a few... Party tricks... To stop the ritual.”

“Oh, I got much more than some party tricks, smart ass.” You laughed as an answer, taking the horn out of its place on the saddle. “You’re not the only one striking deals with the devil on these parts. I think you will all enjoy meeting the souls you sent to the afterlife.”

You blew the horn loudly, allowing a ghostly sound to take over the air, as the demonic horse rose up on its back legs neighing loudly in a distorted tone with the demon pack howling in response - the mix of sounds making it seem like a cube of ice was running slowly down your spine.

When the horse landed, the pack took form from the darkness, making Kyrie and Nico scoot away trying not to get in those creature’s path. Blackwell’s eyes grew in terror, even if the man tried to remain arrogant and not show any kind of emotion - the pack raced forward hungrily with gnashing and snarling sounds as they opened their mouths with sharp fangs, ready to tear through the cultists flesh like butter.

“It’s the hard way for you all, then.” You pointed to the house, raising your voice once more. “Take what they owe from you!”

With that command and an intense howling, the pack destroyed the front door - and you could hear the symphony of roars and screams as some of the cultists tried to run away and others tried to fight.

“No! No! I will not be defeated by the likes of you!” Blackwell screamed from the porch, taking one of his followers and slicing their throat without a second thought, leaving the body on the ground as soon as he collected the blood. “Fight those creatures or sacrifice yourselves to their will! The ritual will go on and the main room is to be protected at all costs! That’s an order!”

The remaining cultists obeyed without questioning, willing to give their lives for that bizarre cult ran by Blackwell. You shook your head, watching as they entered in a rush, and still hearing the mayhem going on inside.

“Are you girls alright?” You finally broke the badass pose to look to your side, checking in on Kyrie and Nico. Both women were hugging each other, ready to scream and run, but now they just stared at you in awe.

“Damn, y/n, what the hell?! You almost killed me! My heart cannot take somethin’ like... Like.. A flamin’ demon horse?! How?!” Nico let go of Kyrie to wave her hands around in despair as they approached you - you, in the other hand, smiled back while caressing Slade’s head.

The horse was quite sweet for a demonic horse, if you had to say something.

“What happened? You were all fine when we left, I mean, you were all together...!” Kyrie tried to explain and you could see where she was coming from. “What’s with the deal you mentioned...?”

“Look, it’s quite a long story. But I had to borrow some powers - and help...” You pointed to the house as some growling and yelling was still happening, making Nico visibly shiver as you did so. “To save our damsels in distress for the day. Also have another kind of help.” And this time, you pointed to Rebellion strapped on your back.

“Oh, so that’s where she went!” And Nico could say she was relieved to see the sword with you. They would have a lot of explaining to do if they had lost Dante’s sword.

“We’re here to bring your weapons too...!” Kyrie took Red Queen out of hiding, since they had put the swords down for a moment while discussing their next steps. “We were just trying to figure out a way to...”

Before she could finish speaking, though, a loud noise came from inside the house and the windows started glowing with a flash of red for a while before going back to normal. The floor rumbled for a couple of seconds underneath your feet right after, and then everything went silent - even inside the house.

“The pack did their job, it’s time for me to do mine.” You took the reins back into your hands. “C’mon, Slade! Time to teach those assholes a lesson!”

“Let’s go...!”

“Let’s go where? Are you insane? We’re pretty ok here, outside, waitin’, while the hunters do their thing in there...!”

“Nico.” Kyrie rested both of her hands on the woman’s shoulders as you led Slade up the front porch stairs of the mansion and inside the house - taking everything in your path and leaving fiery steps behind. “They need their weapons. They need us. No time to back up now. Let’s go!”

“Everyone here’s insane...!” Nico rolled her eyes and, if it wasn’t such a dangerous moment, she would be lighting up another cigarette.

You rode through the dead cultists, ripped apart by the pack you summoned earlier - now gone, probably to finally have their rest. Following the chanting noise, you found a set of heavy wooden doors, locked from the other side and being well guarded. With your fiery whip, you took care of the guards in a blink; and with Slade’s hooves, the door was soon broken into pieces on the ground, with you riding inside the room and interrupting the ritual.

“Sorry the late, love. I got a little... Caught up.” You winked as soon as you found Dante’s sky-blue eyes fixated on you in pure amazement. He watched as you rode inside the room, whipping away any cultists who tried to get in your way. Your objective was to save Dante and Nero, and you had nothing but their safety in your mind.

“That flamin’ horse is pretty cool! Where did you get somethin’ like that?” And to say Nero was excited about it was an understatement: he looked like a child who just saw the coolest thing on earth and wanted that to himself as well - enough even to ignore the gash he had on his hand, dripping blood on the wooden floor.

Not a huge blood offering as they were expecting - but Blackwell didn’t want to waste too much of Nero’s precious blood on the summoning. After all, if Dante wasn’t enough for the binding ritual, he would use Nero as well.

“From a demon, no doubt.” Dante answered instead as you finally left the saddle and your feet hit the floor of the house - leaving fiery steps as you approached him. “Hope you didn’t do anythin’ too rash, babe.”

As you reached Dante, you could see the worry in his sky-blue eyes. He knew that kind of power, for a human like you, came only with a deal - and, usually, it never ended well for the human. Either way, what choice did you have that night, really? Not many, and you would do whatever you had to in order to save your lover. Dante knew that - and he would never want to be the reason of your downfall.

That’s why the first thing you did was to place your lips on his, on a slightly longer kiss. You hoped that would reassure him; that it would make Dante know you would make that decision over and over again if it meant he and Nero would be alright that night. You could think about your deal and your soul later, as long as they were safe.

Also, being Dante, he could easily take the increase in your body temperature after the deal.

“I did what I had to.” You answered as soon as you left his lips, smiling fondly even if you could see how melancholic his eyes looked. “Now, let’s get you both out of here. We have a cult to dismantle.”

“We’re experts on that!” Nero was already bubbling inside to fight, almost as if something told him Red Queen was nearby.

“It doesn’t matter what you all do!” Blackwell reappeared from a door on the second floor, holding a black box with silver carvings. “The gates have already been opened! The king will rise and with a few more spells, the binding will be done! Give up!”

“Why do all power hungry asshats always speak like that, huh...?” You shook your head, going back to freeing Dante and Nero: turns out, untying them was quite easy; the problem was the power suppressing shackles around their wrists.

“Eh, you know, babe... If they can’t sound like cheesy villains, then what’s the fun in that?” Dante shrugged, making you giggle in response. As you untied his feet, he finally got up, being followed by Nero as soon as you freed him.

Before any of you could do anything else, the floor rumbled once more and the red sigils in blood started glowing with a light you only saw in very well succeeded rituals. Indeed, the gate was opening, and the demon they summoned was about to come to earth - unless you did something about it.

“Hey, cowboy, can you take care of the cultists and their smart ass leader?”

“Sure thing, ghost rider. But dont’cha think you’re gonna have all the fun by yourself.” With that answer, Dante kissed you quickly before heading over to Blackwell. “C’mon kid. We got work to do!”

“About time!” Nero ran after Dante, even if he himself wasn’t sure what you would do with the ever trembling floor.

“Slade!” As soon as you called, the horse galloped over to you, having you back on its saddle in no time. You circled around the room, watching as the seal between dimensions opened and a metallic looking demon started poking its ugly head through it. Holding Rebellion’s grip tightly, you took it from the holster on your back, as you watched the creature who stepped into your dimension - black eyes oh so interested to finally be out of the demon world. “It’s time to work, Rebellion.”

“Ah... The Human world, at last...” The demon was almost as tall as the mansion itself, wearing a black metallic armor that you couldn’t tell if it was its clothing or its actual skin. It had a humanoid head, but the lips didn’t move as it spoke - almost as if it was wearing a mask made of marble; crowned with a thousand dark metallic spikes. Its black eyes, though, seemed to harbor infinite void; while its clawed hands dripped a viscous black liquid, pooling around its feet. The demon king looked around with no expression on its masked face, but soon those empty eyes found you: a rider on a fiery horse, carrying one of the legendary swords made with the fire of Hell itself. A human rider, wielding such power. “And already a hunter as a warm welcome.”

“To send you back home where you belong to.” You answered, raising your head with pride. “Can’t let you stay here for too long, your putrid highness.”

“A hunter with such power in their hands. This shall be interesting...” The demon king hummed, summoning two blades on each of his hands; forming from the dark liquid that dripped down from his claws. “Very well, hunter. I shall indulge you.”

You had no more words to say, for now it was time to fight. Charging in, you led Slade right in the direction of the demon king, circling around the creature to try to land a hit with Rebellion. In spite of his size, though, the demon was fast and you had to dodge a heavy attack from one of his swords - that buried on the floor, cracking the rotten wooden panels. You seized this opportunity to land a hit on his arm with the Rebellion - soon realizing the skin of the creature was, indeed, made of metal.

It would need a lot more strategy and power to land a blow that had an actual impact on that kind of demon - in all your life as a devil hunter, you had never seen nor fought against anything like it.

Meanwhile, Blackwell pointed his followers to take on Dante and Nero - who were running up stairs to deal with the man who was already setting up the second part of the ritual in a makeshift altar across the room.

The hunters just exchanged looks and a knowing smile before sucker punching their way up - even throwing some of the cultists down the stairs. If they had to fight like humans, they would... And they were actually very good at it.

“What the...!” Kyrie and Nico said in unison as soon as both reached the doors you brought down when you barged in the room - finding that mess of a scene: Dante and Nero running up stairs and you fighting a demonic king with Rebellion in hand. In a matter of fact, their shock came mostly from seeing a demon king for the first time in their lives. Other than Vergil, actually.

“Don’t t-t-tell me you wanna... Go i-i-in there.” Nico’s stuttering suddenly got worse, wincing as soon as one of the kings swords tried to bring you down - and you expertly held it back with Rebellion, keeping your balance on your horse.

It was actually quite impressive to watch.

“I... Don’t. We can... Wait.” Kyrie’s answer was almost a whisper, with both of them agreeing to hide behind something until the opportune moment to give the swords back to their respective owners.

“Blackwell! Time to end this party!” Dante announced as soon as he got to the top of the stairs, making the man jump in place.

There was a skull in the middle of the altar, sided by candles and behind a brass bowl - where he would probably collect Dante’s blood. Blackwell had already cut his hand and offered his own blood, chanting incantations written in an old book he had opened on the corner of the altar.

“It’s too late now, Dante. You should accept...”

“Man, you talk too much...!” Nero finally lost his patience. Before Dante could say anything, his nephew ran with all his might, drop kicking Blackwell on the floor. Dante couldn’t refrain from shaking his head.

“You never change, do ya, kid...?” He had his hands on his hips, watching as Nero kept Blackwell immobile.

The cracking sound of your whip drew everyone’s attention to the fight at hand. Looking down, Dante found you with the fiery whip on your hand, keeping the demon king at bay. Your foe immediately raised one of its huge swords to take you down in a swift sweep, but with a flick of your wrist, you wrapped the blade with the whip, cracking it with the sound of a thousand raging bonfires. Dante couldn’t help but raise his brows and watch you with amazement and admiration.

Indeed, you were a human to tame his demonic heart. There you were, mounting a demon horse, Rebellion on one hand and a whip made of the fires of Hell itself on the other, holding down the sword of nothing but a demon king in place. You didn’t back down nor felt fear - instead, you wrapped the whip even tighter around your own arm, making it shorter and forcing the demon king’s sword down. You knew it wouldn’t burn you, for you were the one wielding it. Keeping your gaze on those eyes made of oblivion, you commanded the whip to burn hotter and hotter... Until the very blade in the demonic king’s hand started to melt, pouring on the floor like molten mercury.

“Fuckin’ hell, y/n...!” Dante let out as soon as surprise hit his heart, watching it all while keeping his hands rested on the balustrade of the second floor. His mind couldn’t even think of that clown Blackwell behind him when he had you being such an incredible hunter downstairs, taming a demon king like he never saw any other devil hunter doing.

He was the only one he knew who ever conquered a king in his book - and there you were, proving the world why you were the owner of his heart.

“Rare are the fights worth fighting...” The demonic king’s voice echoed through the house, as the creature gained back his posture upon realizing one of his weapons were gone. “I can see why Rebellion stands with you. What is your name, hunter?”

“Y/n. Rebellion stands with me because I gained her owner’s trust.” Your answer came with your head held high, while you untangled your whip from your arm. As expected, there was no harm done to you nor your clothing.

“I reckon you gained more than his trust. It will be an honor bringing you down, y/n.”

“I wouldn’t be that concerned with y/n if I were you, ugly face.” Dante finally entered the conversation. He did like the fact that you owned the respect of a demon king, but he did not like it that the creature was now even more interested in killing you. His phrase, though, made both of you turn your attention to him on the second floor. “I mean, I know, my sheriff is givin’ ya a run for your money and, sooner rather than later, you’ll be back down in Hell in no time.” He had a smart smile on his lips, sprinkled with pride, which made you smile in return. It was good to see how much faith Dante had in you. “But we’re all forgettin’ the big elephant in the room: the smart ass who summoned you and has all the intentions on binding you to serve ‘im.”

“Huh. Son of Sparda. I did feel your stench when I arrived - I just concluded it was tied to the sword.” The demonic king raised his head up to Dante, now pointing his sword towards him. “But your words ring truth. You were not the ones who summoned me - and now you tell me a mortal thought itself to be powerful enough to try to bind me into servitude...?”

Oh, you could all feel the anger running on the king’s bloodstream - if he even had one.

“Oh, yes. Not even a honorable human like y/n, huh?” Dante winked back at you, making you giggle. You weren’t really scared of the demon king behind you - your lover had done one hell of a good job of drawing his attention from you and the fight at hand. “More of a...”

“Coward little shit hidden upstairs so you wouldn’t find ‘im!” Nero dragged Blackwell by the collar of his robe as the man stumbled to stand by Dante’s side - clearly trying to run. “And tryna complete the bindin’ ritual, will you look at that!”

“A cowardly move indeed, petty creature...” The demonic king’s voice echoed through the floor, trembling the boards underneath you all. “Weaklings like you should learn your place and which souls are bound to eternal servitude.”

With that phrase, the portal between dimensions opened once more, making you guide Slade away from it so you wouldn’t fall into the demonic world. The king pointed at Blackwell, making some of the black, viscous liquid dripping from its claws go up the man’s arms and neck, slowly reaching his eyes. Blackwell screamed in horror and pain as the liquid filled his eye sockets, turning into infinite voids completely out of a soul as soon as it was done. Nero let go of the man’s arm, watching him go down the stairs like a mindless puppet, walking obediently to the edge of the opened gate, staring into the demonic world as if he had no choice.

“You shall regret your hubris, petty creature.” With those words from the king, Blackwell willingly threw himself into the abyss, forever lost in servitude to the demonic king he thought he would be able to control.

It was the perfect moment. You couldn’t allow a demon king to stay, and he knew that very well. With a quick movement and a loud crack, your whip tangled itself around the demon king’s metallic arm. The expressionless face turned to you, staring into your eyes with that gaze devoided of soul. You held the look, once again wrapping the whip around your arm tightly, cracking Slade’s reins so the horse would walk backwards - helping you pull the demonic king with you.

You had every intention of pulling him down the opened gate, locking it right after he was gone.

It was a matter of strength and will. You kept pulling, and the demonic king kept anchoring his feet on the floor of the house. Dante and Nero watched it all from the second floor with their mouths slightly opened and hearts pounding viciously in their chests. Nico and Kyrie had their eyebrows furrowed, barely believing what their eyes were seeing. The hardwood floor started to crack underneath the king’s feet, but your eyes wouldn’t leave that soulless gaze. You wrapped the whip once again around your arm, making it even shorter, yanking the creature towards you - making him try to anchor himself down even harder.

Using the same command in your heart before, the fires on the whip got hotter and hotter, burning even brighter and making everyone in the room start to sweat - except for you and the king. The creature stumbled a little when you noticed the whip started to melt into its metallic arm - slowly, but surely, melting it... Destroying it.

If the demonic king wasn’t going back to his rightful place, he was going down. The way you stared into his black eyes made him know that.

“Y/n. I shall remember your name.” The demonic king’s voice reverberated through the room again, as he slowly glided towards the opened gate.

“You better. Next time you try to come up, you should know I’ll be here to take you back down.” Your answer was certain, causing a low laugh to echo through the room in return.

“It will be an honor. Hunter.”

Those were the last words you would hear from the demonic king. He finally let go and you yanked the fiery whip, dragging the creature down the same abyss Blackwell had thrown himself into. With the whip free, you had it back on its place on the saddle in a flourish, watching the gate slowly close up - too slowly, in a matter of fact: some demons had noticed it was open and saw an opportunity to come out and cause mayhem.

“Ei, y/n!” You heard Dante calling, as he ran downstairs alongside Nero. “Use the Rebellion! It’ll speed things up!”

Doing as he said, you killed a few demons who tried to come out - and, as you stroke one of them down where it belonged, you noticed the portal closed faster and faster, until there was only the tip of the Rebellion left buried on the very ordinary hardwood floor.

No demons. No gates. No kings. The mansion fell in silence - and the town had its ghostly quietness back to it. With the last stand from Rebellion, it was over.

Dante finally met you in the middle of the party room, watching you with a proud smile on his lips. He had defeated Mundus once, yes, but you had just put a demonic king back where it belonged without any help from him. That was quite a feat you could brag about as much as you wanted now - even if he knew you wouldn’t do it. He knew you paid the price for the power to do so, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t worth it.

“Guess you saved my ass this time, ghost rider.”

“I believe ‘thanks’ are in order, cowboy.” You answered casually, approaching with Slade walking lazily towards your red devil.

“Oh, you deserve more than thanks tonight, sweetheart.” And the looks in Dante’s eyes made you immediately giggle - while Nero rolled his eyes.

“Ah, stop that you too. There are children in the room...” He shook his head while both you and your lover stared at him with eyebrows raised, ready to question him. Nero just casually looked back at you. “It’s me. I’m children.”

“Ya know... I’m quittin’ this job.”

You three finally looked back at the door only to find Nico and Kyrie walking towards you - safe to say, Nero immediately smiled and ran to meet his love halfway.

“The materials are good, but damn...!” Nico rolled her eyes, completely ignoring Nero holding Kyrie tightly in his arms, kissing the top of her head while she giggled. “You’re all crazy...! Crazy!”

“What can I say? It runs in the family.” Dante shrugged, making Nero laugh from their now inside joke. He turned to you as soon as your feet hit the floor by his side. “You too, babe. You’re family as well.”

“Good to know you think I’m crazy too.” With your answer, he laughed a little bit out loud before having his lips covered by yours - now burning like fire.

“Phew - gonna take a while to get used to that, babe. Is it permanent...?” You could see the care in Dante’s eyes as he pushed some of your hair away from your face - your cowboy hat still immaculate on top of your head. It was clear he didn’t want any kind of thing that transformed you to something more than human to be permanent, but he would accept it anyway: after all, it was you; and everything you did that day was to save him. Dante never really had that.

“Not really. I just have to keep my part of the bargain and it’s gone.” You played with his hair for a while, making Dante have a goofy smile on his lips - only for you. “Which is a shame, really. I liked having you around, Slade.”

The horse approached you, bumping your shoulder with its fiery nose - making you caress its demonic head. All in all, it was a good mount and you grew strangely fond to it.

“And what’s your part of the bargain, babe?”

“Beau Blackwell’s skull. I’ve to find it and give it back to the demon who first made the contract with him.”

“Ya know, the other Blackwell had a skull on the altar upstairs. It’s probably the one ya need, y/n.” Nero considered, still having Kyrie in his arms. There was no force on earth that would make him let her go before sunrise.

“Huh. The demon who made the deal with Beau made a deal with you too, then...?” Dante decided to follow you upstairs as you started making your way towards it.

“Yeah, pretty convenient, I know...” You sighed in return, now used to the fiery steps you left behind you. “But hey, I needed a way to get ourselves out of this one. Demon at the crossroads was my only way out.”

“Yeah, and what a way out. You make one hell of a sexy ghost rider, babe.” Dante teased and, as soon as you got to the top of the stairs, you turned around to let him see you in all your ghost rider glory.

“Right? I’m gonna miss it, I feel quite the badass!” You laughed in return as he whistled upon watching you.

“You’re always a badass, sheriff, you don’t need all that.” There was that unapologetic sincerity in his eyes as Dante spoke, making you know he actually meant it. In all your life hunting by his side, you never felt like you were missing something for being completely human.

“Thank you, cowboy.” You winked back at him, locating the skull inside the black box with silver sigils. Taking it in your hands, now you just had to keep it in the proper place on Slade’s saddle and let it take it back to the creature who gave you those powers for that night. “Though the fiery whip was pretty cool, huh?”

“That it was.” Dante laughed alongside you, stopping for a while before going back downstairs. “Thanks for the rescue, y/n.”

“No worries, Dante. I’ll always be here for you.” You smiled back at him, using your free hand to gently caress his face. “For better or for worse.”

“Usually for worse.” He completed with a slightly bitter laugh, making you shake your head.

“That depends on your point of view, love. To me, it’s always better.”

You left another quick fiery kiss on his lips before heading back downstairs - and, as you concluded your business with Slade and Nico kept arguing with Nero, who kept glued like a koala on Kyrie, Dante couldn’t stop himself from smiling upon thinking about your words.

You were always the better on his life.

*

“To whom it may concern,

Business in Silverstone is back on its tracks. Folks are regaining confidence and tourists are back in town. Things have been flourishing like never before: with the rumors of the latest ‘demonic rituals’, occultists and supernatural enthusiasts are flocking around to visit the old town. Some young folk in the city have even made a ‘Supernatural Silverstone Horror Tour’, or some stupid young people thing like that.

It’s been a hit, though. Not only the young ones, but some old people are coming to take the tour. The old town has never seen so much interest before - and the old Blackwell mansion is now a haunted spot, or something. Haunted house? Dunno. These people like making things up. Not complaining! The hotel is packed every weekend, and there’s plenty of money going around to help us rebuild from the chaos those pesky demons set around on Halloween.

Things are going steady and good around Silverstone - and we all have you people at the Devil May Cry to be thankful to. Whenever you want to visit, accommodation, food and whatever else you need is on the town. You all will always be welcome here.

Oh, the young ones said if you ever want to take the horror tour or whatever, they’ll be more than happy to have you around. It would be an honor, they said. Maybe you could come and show those kids what a proper scare is like, huh?

Well, that’s it for now. I thought you would like to know how things are going - and that you have made friends here in Silverstone. Once again, in the name of the whole town, thank you.

Buck Carson.

Ps: Frances and I have been seeing each other for a while and she agreed to moving in with me in the Hotel. Thank you for your help, y/n.”

“They’re moving in together! Mission accomplished!” You had Buck’s letter in your hand, having just read it out loud, and now you were in the middle of a very weird - and happy - celebration dance in the middle of the Devil May Cry; Dante watched you with his arms crossed, legs on the table and a huge smile on his lips, as always.

“You’ve been playin’ quite the long game to complete that mission, babe!” He laughed alongside you, watching your bare feet happily dancing over the shop’s floor - no fiery footsteps to follow you anymore; your deal was done. “Who would’ve known? You’re a Cupid too!”

“Oh, I’m a good shot, cowboy.” You pointed at him with finger guns, as if you were aiming for his heart. “I could make a wreck with a Cupid’s bow!”

“Oh, there would be no one left standin’! Ouch!” He took his hands over his heart, pretending he was shot as soon as you hit him with your finger guns. “You already took my heart with ya, sheriff!”

“And you took mine with you, cowboy.” You walked over to his desk, leaving the letter on a safe spot and sitting by the edge as you and the ladies always did whenever you were talking at the Devil May Cry. “Who knows, maybe if I make a deal again next year, I’ll get the powers of Cupid for a little while.”

“Ha! Now that I’d like to see!” Dante let out a good laugh, watching intently as you settled in front of him. “But we did get some nice things out of this one this year...”

“Yeah, the whole town is thankful to us, we could go there someday as a vacation.” You considered while Dante agreed, shaking his head. “That’s nice, for a change.”

“Yeah, a first one for me too...” He took his legs off the table, having his feet on the ground again, leaning closer to you. “And you got yourself your first devil weapon, pretty eyes.”

“Oh, my fire whip. I’m so glad.” You closed your eyes, having a huge smile spreading across your lips. Dante quickly glanced over his shoulder, seeing the whip was still sitting peacefully alongside his own devil weapons on a wall display, precisely where you both left them. “All demon kings better beware.”

“I can bet you’re already a legend in Hell, hot stuff. You’re earning your name.” He nodded towards you in a gesture of respect. You could barely think of yourself becoming a legend and making a name for yourself in Hell - but you had to admit it would be more than nice to be known for your abilities.

“But you know, I really like being known as the human who has earned your love.” You looked back at your red devil intently, leaning down on the desk towards him. “That is more important to me than any kind of power I could’ve earned.”

“And that is somethin’ you’ll always have, y/n.” With those words, Dante quickly pulled you into his lap, you both making his chair shift heavily on the floor and make quite the noise - while your laughs ringed with it. “’Cause you know, there’s a reason why Rebellion followed you.”

“Hmmm... I thought it was because I called you somehow before fainting.” You furrowed your brows, pending your head to the side while watching his kind eyes.

“You can call it too, babe, but that’s not what happened that night.” As Dante started talking, he took one of your hands in his, drawing random patterns in it as he spoke. “You see, my swords answer to my soul. And my soul, was worried about you that night. As soon as Rebellion sensed you were in danger...”

“It found me. But how...?”

“’Cause I’d find you anywhere, babe. No matter the place, no matter the circumstance.” His answer was certain; his sky-blue eyes going back to meet yours. “I’d find you anywhere.”

“I’ll always find you too, Dante...” With that, you took his silvery hair away from his eyes, in order to place a gentle, slow kiss on his lips. There was no job to do, no world to save, no gates to close - you could take your time and savor each other. “And save you from whatever demonic kings that decide to step in the way as well.”

“Oh, I’ll always count on that, sheriff!” Dante held you tight against him, placing another long kiss on your lips, making you giggle as he did so. “And I think you said some ‘thanks’ are in order...!”

“But you already... Dante!” Before you could finish speaking, he lifted you up on his arms, leaving his desk to take you upstairs.

“Job’s done and we’re in due for some lovin’. No refunds!” As he spoke, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at Dante’s antics.

After all, by now, you knew every Halloween would have a new adventure in store for you - and you also knew that after every storm, some celebration was to be had.

And celebrating with your red devil would never be enough; after all, loving with all the might of their human heart also ran in the family.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (xiii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7 p8 p9 p10 p11 p12

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : halloweekend finds the pair in a tense party environment, putting their declaration of "just friends" to a test.

warnings : fluffy fun, very angsty at times, smutty at times (forgive me if it’s not up to par i haven’t wrote smut in a sec :/), alcohol and weed use mentioned, barely proof-read

mickey speaks : i have too much fun writing lucas and y/n scenes pls save me also i hope u enjoy and had a good halloween luv u all sm

THIS IS PART THIRTEEN, READ THE OTHERS FIRST PLEASE...

THE house is flooding. people are moving in and out constantly; stepping out for a smoke, or leaning over to let out strings of bile-filled saliva, or just leave the crowded event altogether. those who walk past the leaving groups are likely to step over a few drunk, costume-clad bodies (who have decided the floor looks "hella comfy" at that point in their night), and would be met with an undeniable heat radiating from every wall as the electric beats of the rhythm of the night headlines over every speaker.

by the time you arrive (with remi's hands wrapped tightly around your upper arm as if you were both entering a terrifying, haunted house rather than a boozy costume party) the party is at it's peak. a man in a hyper-realistic werewolf costume stood at the door to ask for your names and shamelessly flirt with the two of you before you were let into the large house.

you look to remi with excitement once you're fully engulfed in the home and your faces are both painted by the slow changing, colored lights. just as your mouth opens to speak, a smooth and familiar voice rings out a groan around you both, "good god!" lucas breaks between you two, hanging each of his large arms over the length of both you and remi's shoulders. "you two are lookin' fine as hell," he looks back and forth, eyeing you both with his toothy grin that glimmers extra with the decorative gem on his canine.

remi lets out a laugh, "thank you lucas," she sees the way he's leaning onto you and drawing circles on your shoulder making her smile, "but i will not be participating in any sister-wive shenanigans- so i'll see you," she slips from his hold and begins to walk backwards and silently mouths "i'll be in the kitchen" to you while motioning her hand as if she was drinking something which makes you laugh to yourself and exchange thumbs up's with each other.

lucas sends a flutter of his fingers to remi and when she turns around to navigate through the crowd, he's looking at you again- with your dolled up face and sheer-red glossed lips that he keeps staring at whenever you're speaking or rubbing them together. he hooks his arm to pull you closer as he leans down to speak into your ear through your hair, "how've you been, baby?"

your face gives away his obvious affect on you. you look down and then back up at him, bringing your hand up to play with his fingers on your hot skin, "i've been good. how about you?"

he brings his head close as he listens to you speak, nodding his head at a few people who assumingly recognize him.

"mmm," he unwraps his arm from you as he moves to lean his back against a wall with various faux spiderwebs and skulls stuck to it; still just as crowded by people on either side of him talking loudly or meeting each other's tongues. "love to hear that, you know 'm always feelin' good," he keeps ahold of your hand and smoothly spins you around to face him. he eyes your tight red corset and the way your ass sits in those tiny pink bloomer shorts and has to ask, "so.. what are you? some kind of fairy?"

his face looks so genuinely curious and attractive under the luxurious lighting that you can't help but smile, "i'm cupid! see?" you turn and lift your leg slightly to show off a small decorative bow and arrow attached by a lacy thigh garter.

"have you shot anyone yet?" he grins and his eyes, while puffy and red, remain focused on you.

it's been a while since you've seen lucas and even longer since you've felt the gentle intimacy from a guy you like, so you lean close and wrap your arms around his neck, lifting yourself up slightly to kiss his cheek, "just one."

lucas dramatically groans and leans his head back against the wall, "fuckin' hell," he bites at his bottom lip. when he finally brings himself to make eye contact with you again you're there, so close to him, with that pretty smile and those charming eyes. he jokingly shakes his head back and forth, "jesus." he starts to look around before calling out, "are there any nurses around here?! shit i'll take a sexy doctor at this point- my heart might just give out right now!"

you let out a cackle and look behind you at the few people who have overheard lucas' call for help before looking back to him and shushing him through his attractive laugh and calls of “help me”. he pulls you close enough for your faces to unintentionally meet to share an intoxicating giggle, before you take hold of his thick overall strap and hold his chin, feeling over his soft facial hair. you surprise him when you deliver a taste of you with a kiss to his lips, your voice gentle, "hey shhh ... i can take care of you."

౨ৎ

"what. the. fuck?!" matt says through a stifled laugh, waving through the smokey air to ensure he is seeing correctly.

chris stands with his hips tilted and cherry red lips pouted, dressed head to toe in a little red-riding-hood costume while he leans on a giggly andrea who's his self-proclaimed slutty big-bad-wolf counterpart. she’s got fluffy grey ears on top of her loosely curled hair and heavy dark eyeliner that brings out the hazel in her eyes. her tiny daisy duke shorts, furry boots, and sharp fake canines pull the rest of her costume together perfectly.

nathan's cackle rings as he comes from behind matt to greet his friends, "holy shit, that's too good, which one of you thought of this?!" he points a finger out from his grip on a slim beer bottle.

chris starts to laugh as andrea playfully replies, "who do you think?"

"just wait until nick sees you in this after you told him you wouldn't do drag with him..." matt tsks, still astonished by the sight of his brother in a tiny skirt.

chris twirls and plays with the ends of his frazzled wig as andrea begins to show them the photos she'd taken while they were getting ready. matt looks over to chris, "i really can't deal with how into this you are."

chris' face deadpans and he jokingly jumps at matt with a fist curled, making matt move backwards and almost knock nathan's drink out of his hand, "yeah, that's what i thought! i'll beat your ass!" he pitches his voice up to a hyper-feminine octave.

andrea lifts her hands up as she laughs, "woah? i thought this was a classy party?!"

matt sputters out his own chuckle at chris who is still playing up some sort of reality tv level fight, "oh my god hold me back!" he wraps andrea's arms around his torso while simultaneously throwing his arms in matt's direction, "hold me back babe, i'm about to kill this bitch!"

almost everyone around them has fallen weak from laughter when nick's exclaim cuts through over the loud music and hysterics, "is that christopher?! my brother?!" nick rushes down the stairs and chris immediately pushes through a crowd to go hug him.

"dude, chris is off one tonight! holy shit, i can't stop laughing," nathan wipes his eyes and rests his hand on matt's shoulder.

asha (who just so happened to get caught in chris' tight hug due to nick's hold on her hand) gives chris a soft pat on the back before ducking from between the two drunk idiots' hold and heading to greet her friends. "andrea! hi pretty lady!" the two squeeze each other tight before she moves to hug nate and matt.

"you all look so good! where's y/n?" she asks with a wide grin, the bright colors of her daphne costume enhancing the bronze of her skin in the low lighting.

"don't know." matt says with a shrug and a glance around the party atmosphere. he wish he knew. honestly, he wishes you were at his side, holding onto him right now.

his night out with elijah a few weeks back was only helpful for that night. sure, he had fun with the attention and heat of the moment sex that came with it- but he was left annoyed the next day when he woke up next to a girl incomparable to you. it was embarrassing and an emotionally drunk mistake; he's given himself enough shit for it, so he doesn't feel any need to ever expose that to you, if he's gifted with your openness again. if.

"she got ready at remi's, so i haven't seen her yet," andrea says before she's distracted by her boyfriend stood on a wooden table across the room, "chris! bájate (get off)! get down from there!" she yells in worry while quickly parting from the group.

"god, he’s wild." asha looks from chris dancing on the raised table to the two boys next to her, "well, i'm gonna go get a drink and hopefully find y/n while i'm gone," she spins to leave and surprisingly matt is right next to her, ready to follow suit.

"i'll come with you," he explains and asha pauses in question, "c'mon, just keep walkin'."

the two approach the vile display of a kitchen with cluttered liquors and mixers, sticky residue atop the counters and plenty of bodies using the space as their personal lounge. matt's got his head turning constantly (in hopes to at least spot you from afar and get the chance to admire), as he stands next to asha who's creating a beverage of sorts, "what're y'making?"

"literally have no clue, just puttin' a little malibu with hawaiian punch i'm sure it'll be fine-" she looks over to him, "what the hell are you doing?" she laughs while putting the cap back onto the tall bottle, "whipping your head around like crazy. do you have opps around here, matthew?"

matt rolls his eyes, "no," he sighs and goes to grab another beer from the fridge (after excusing himself to a couple leant against it). he twists the cap and takes a long sip.

"hey! you done with that yet?" a brash and irritating voice yells into the air, causing matt and asha to look over to see the guy with a poorly made vampire costume and his grimy finger pointed at her, "yeah, you!"

"excuse me?! who the fuck are you talking to?" asha immediately defends while gesturing to the bottle dismissively, "yeah i'm done with it you asshole, take it."

though he stays silent, matt's face displays disgust which makes the man just as mad, "the fuck is wrong with your face, cowboy? can't even defend your girl but you wanna have that dumbass look on your face."

matt laughs, the last thing he expected was to be ridiculed and pestered tonight, "can you chill the fuck out? there was no issue until your greedy ass came in here and started cussin' at girls and callin' me a cowboy when i'm clearly indiana jones."

asha tilts her hand as if to say, clearly? well that's debatable, which makes matt kiss his teeth. she ignores him and flashes a smile, mouthing, "okay, let's go" but the guy can't help but rebuttal and continue to shout profanities while the pair head out of the kitchen. so it's only right that matt turn his head to the guy and yell out, "go find some happiness and peace you drunk fuck, no one wants you here!" before he snickers to himself and gulps down more of his beer, wiping his dripping mouth with his exposed forearm.

matt and asha swiftly move through the crowd while laughing and sipping at their drinks until they find a spot big enough for both of them on the makeshift dancefloor. "hey, that drink better be worth literally fighting for." matt yells over the music and points at the solo cup in her hand.

"eh," she shrugs and begins to sway herself with the hypnotic dance-pop music playing loudly. she connects large dips of her hips with movement in her arms and lipsyncing that helps to loosen matt up enough to find some enjoyment in the small buzz of alcohol and pounding musical vibrations. though his playful mood dies when asha almost chokes on her drink (out of excitement) as she taps at matt's shoulder a few quick times. "oh my god! i found y/n! and ... is that ... lucas?" she squints her eyes.

matt doesn't mean to but his entire body reverses to get a view. only it's worse than he could ever imagine in his own creative mind. it's the harsh breaths you're taking and the way your bodies move as one and how he's hugging onto you under these turquoise and orange lights, it feels like matt has just been kicked down onto his knees and beaten over the head bloody. the heat of the people around him who keep bumping into him as he stands and watches you perform, is dizzying. there's constant movement in both time and the crowd, yet matt feels stuck. but that's strictly internal, matt's external remains dangerously calm. calm enough that asha doesn't notice any change, not even the roughness in his throat when he replies to her comment of "i didn't even know they were a thing" with a hushed, "me neither..."

౨ৎ

"wow you look fucking terrible, matt" nick stares with wide eyes, "asha, babe, how did you leave my brother alone for like thirty minutes and he's got the face of death the next time we see him?!" he laughs at his brother slumped in a lonesome outdoor chair.

"s’not on me! i promise he was fine when i left him!" she drunkenly expresses.

matt leans his head to the side, "yeah, make fun of me all you want. i'm not the idiot in a fuckin' blonde wig."

nick dramatically caresses his short, slightly off-centered, wig, "not too much! i am fred fucking jones!” making asha giggle uncontrollably as he adds, “where is the respect for icons around here?!”

matt's finding it difficult to enjoy any part of his night now that he has the sight of lucas practically fucking you in his friend's living room imprinted in his skull. he wishes you could have seen him there, watching. he hopes that your stomach would've dropped and you'd ask him to forgive you as he walked away. he hopes that maybe lucas was bothering you and matt just missed the part where you slapped him and told him to leave you alone. that wasn't his fucking sunny. sunny has more respect for herself. he knows sunshine when he sees it; and sunshine is better than matt. from what he saw, tonight you're just like him. how could you? do you truly see matt as a fucking friend? has all of his bickering about not getting with his friends fallen on deaf ears? or do you just not care enough?

౨ৎ

"so you're the only minion? what are your friends dressed as then?" you ask in reference to his costume as lucas feeds you a potato chip from the large bowl he stole from a dining table.

he has a smile as he looks up at you, sat on top of his lap, "yeah, you could say i went rogue, i guess. i got fired for bein' high on the job." you laugh and he brings another chips to your mouth, "all my boys are dressed like m&ms or batman and shit." lucas is caught by surprise when he sees matt approach the couch. "matt! what's up, man. i haven't seen you in a minute, here sit down." he moves the bowl from the cushion next to him, tapping the seat to invite him closer.

you quietly take a sip from the cold mixed drink in your hand and play with the lacy ruffles on your tiny shorts. you wonder if he’ll actually sit down, just to fuck with you. you truly never know what to expect from matt, you two haven't even been alone together since he'd given you an impromptu tattoo on your back. you know he’s likely come over to degrade you over enjoying any time without him. you don’t think he should be bothered with what you do with anyone else at this point.

he speaks up with a shake of his head and downturned lips, "nah i'm cool. y/n, can i talk to you?" his voice has a deep rasp that forces his east coast roots to sprinkle into his dialect.

"hm?" you finally look over to him. while your eyelids sparkle with loose glitter, his eyelids are heavy and his eyebrows, a confusing kind of angry. his lips are upset with you and his jaw is achingly pissed. your lips are still so soft and plump; matt would hate to think they've been kissed by the man underneath you.

"can we go talk?"

"what's going on? is it about one of our friends?" you're playing clueless in hopes that he'll let you finish enjoying your time not thinking about him tonight. for one fucking night.

he repeats your words in a breathy mock, "what's going on? y/n, please don't do this bullshit with me right now."

"alright no need for all that," lucas breathes out, his eyebrows pinched together.

a smile plays on matt’s face at the audacity of him to speak up as the literal other man here, "lucas, shut the fuck up. this has nothing to do with you, i'm just tryna' talk to my friend right now before i leave this dumbass party."

"wh-?!" lucas' voice gains it's own, contrasting, roughness.

“matt?!” you scold and immediately stand up, turning to lucas with an exhaustive sigh, "just give me a sec, okay?" you squeeze his hand before turning to matt, "come on."

౨ৎ

"this is fucking ridiculous,” he huffs.

"matt, slow down. please," you try to keep up with him physically through the crowd, and emotionally through his words.

he's mostly talking to himself with the way he speaks under his breath, "what the fuck were you thinkin'?"

"i can't hear, what are you saying?" you genuinely ask and try to move closer from behind him, only you accidentally move too harsh and swift, tripping yourself in the process.

he's quick to grab hold of your torso and lift you upright, "be careful, y/n."

"yeah, m’trying, matt." you readjust yourself upright and he takes his warm hands away from your body, reluctantly grabbing your hand instead to pull you the rest of the way through.

౨ৎ

you can finally see him. now that you’re both stood in the first bedroom matt could find upstairs, you're finally able to see him under the controlled, yellowed light of the private room.

you're in the middle of the unfamiliar room, watching him with his back towards you as he shuts the door. he lets out a deep breath as he looks over to you. it's too bad he can't cherish you when you're so damn cute in your tight costume and angel wings.

you curiously admire his appearance as well; he's clad in brown textured pants with a belt and rope connected while his toned chest and arms display his collection of tattoos under the brown vest. his face is attractively looking to you with fake bruises on his cheekbones and corner of his lip. the hat and satchel he wears would normally make you smile and giggle out of appreciation for his commitment to the character, but he's looking at you with such trouble you're feeling the drunken buzz you once had begin to fade.

"hey," your voice is small.

"y/n, what the fuck is going on?" his voice is immediately bitter.

you breathe out a laugh through your nose dismissively, "wow, okay. i'm not doing this right now..." you start to walk around him and towards the door.

"what? don't leave?!" he follows you and you stop.

you look over your shoulder at him, "matt, i'm not letting you yell at me and make me feel bad for enjoying my night out."

"no, i-" he sighs through his nose and comes close as he lowers his voice, "i'm trying to look after you," he gently wraps his arms over your shoulders, connecting his hand with his wrist.

"you're not... you're actually just being selfish, matt." you stand your ground.

"lucas isn't good for you, y/n, i've told you this," he reminds you with his face buried into the space where your shoulder and neck meet.

you groan, "i don't think you understand how fucking frustrating you sound!" you remove his arms and turn yourself around to look into his eyes, because maybe it will help him (and yourself) believe your words, "you wanna talk matt? let's talk. how about this: you and i were never and will never be together."

matt's tongue runs over his teeth and his stomach slightly aches the thought but he takes it on the chin, playing up his cocky personality you unfortunately have grown to favor. he smiles in your face, "i bet that felt good, huh?"

"better than you'd think." you think he can't tell but your eyes are the slightest bit glossier as you speak.

"mm," he nods his head, "right … so now what? you found another sleazed-out pothead to give you dick every now and then? you replacin' me?" he condescendingly laughs at you.

"'m not fucking him, matt. you're being childish." your eyes pinch in animosity.

matt notices your hand remaining on the doorknob, "you're not gonna leave yet though? we still need to talk.."

"about what?" you cross your arms.

matt shrugs with pouted lips, "i mean, i don't know. whatever friends talk about. i haven't seen your pretty ass all night- don't want my impact to be us fussin' at each other."

"you've made a big enough impact already don't you worry." you sarcastically roll your eyes and move to go stretch out on the soft bed, “but fine we can talk, as long as you go get a few drinks for us to share.”

౨ৎ

"you can’t be serious!" he exclaims with a laugh.

"no! m' dead serious-” you adjust yourself to sit up tall on your knees, the bed dipping below you and your strawberry wine cooler in hand, “and you know me, i’m just stood there trying to fight off actual tears while this woman nitpicks my entire cake design in front of a crowd of customers, matt.” you widen your hands to exaggerate your drunken spiel, “a crowd!”

matt continues to laugh at you through his mouthful of slightly bitter beer, he swallows before tugging your arm so that you’re sat once more, “c’mere.”

after you asked that he bring drinks up to you if he expected you to stay and talk with him, matt almost immediately went to the kitchen. he left you to sit alone in the space with your thoughts, which only made you crave a drink strong enough to make you stop thinking of all the bad. you wondered what lucas was doing but that began to make you fell terrible; you sent him a text apologizing for matt’s behavior and telling him you were going home for the night but you’d enjoyed your time with him. he was kind and cool about it which you appreciated.

you accidentally topple into his chest him when you’re pulled down, but matt easily adjusts himself to hold you as if it was a perfect accident. you blink slowly as you look at him and his teeth that show only slightly with his smile.

he can’t help but move his free hand further along your body, he hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever. “i missed you,” he admits and palms your thigh soothingly.

you just stare at him. you want to believe him so badly but even your intoxicated brain can replay andrea’s words from two nights ago through your head: “and chris told me that … matt’s been sleeping around with a few different girls over the past month and a half …”

it pains you to remember the initial shock you felt, so you take your final sip of your drink and move from his lap, taking his drink he was currently sipping from him and placing both cans on a small table in the room.

“what is it?” matt questions with his costume-clad body stretched over the length of the bed and his head propped up by his hand when you come back over to the bed.

“i know you don’t miss me, matt,” you try to sound as put together as possible, sitting yourself cross-legged and in front of him. you take off his hat to let his hair fall out and into its place, kissing at his temples.

you place the hat behind you as matt leans closer to you, placing a hand on your knee, “you don’t know anything if you think i’m lyin’…” he looks up into your droopy yet seductive eyes.

you smirk at his confidence before you lie down parallel to him, “be honest, i can handle it.” you pry. you wonder if he’d actually tell you, especially when he so obviously wants to get in your pants.

“you want honesty? hmmm…” he reaches for your hand, playing with your smooth and manicured nails, “honestly… i was pissed when i saw you with lucas earlier, i don’t think you should give him your time.” his expression is a bit serious like he truly had kept those words in his drunken mind all night. you don’t give any change in your face, tired of reiterating that you don’t care what matt has to say about your love life anymore. “and well, honestly…” he licks over his bottom lip, “you look cute as fuck as cupid tonight.”

you reluctantly smile, “wow all of that and your nose never grew.”

“i’m an honest man. your turn,” you continues to play with your hand.

“honestly… i think the indiana jones look is doing you favors.” you giggle when he displays a look of shock by your compliment, “don’t act so surprised! ‘m more shocked we haven’t kissed each other yet.” you comment.

matt blinks a few times finding the space between you two has become warmer, “pretty sure kissing is considered a friendly interaction in france,” he pulls you closer before leaning over to hold your face in his palm.

“you made that up,” you giggle and look from his intoxicating blue eyes to his pink lips.

his own laugh slips through his smooth delivery, “yeah i did but-”

you tangle your fingers through his deep brown hair as you pull his face to connect with yours, suddenly too overwhelmed with desire to let matt finish his sentence.

he lets the control stay in your hands, with his weight on top of yours and his tongue only peeking out once your lips wrap around it.

it’s hot and spit heavy collision, with both of you endlessly sucking and holding the other’s lips captive. you’re so clouded that you can’t be bothered to complain that your decorative wings are uncomfortable and poking into you.

matt’s hands reach into the bloomers you wear and pull them down slightly to grip the skin of your full hips and feel the fabric of your tiny pair of underwear. your hands continue to scratch at his scalp and hold his cheeks (at times moving to hold his neck and give tiny pulsing squeezes).

your mind is one tracked and eventually you’re fed up with waiting for matt to push past your underwear and give you what you need. you take it upon yourself to move your hand from his chiseled cheek to the space between you two, trailing down and into your shorts.

matt initially thinks you’ve gone to move into his pants but is pleasantly surprised to pull back and see you using your fingers on yourself. he hums against your ear, “mmm you’re so fucking sexy when you’re touching yourself, sun’.”

you mewl out a soft moan at his words as he lays wet kisses from your ear to your neck, where he licks and nips lightly. you move your fingers from your clit to dip into you, whining out towards the ceiling as you work them.

matt purposely places his crotch against your spread thigh to give you insight into his cravings. what he doesn’t expect is you to tell him, “fuck yourself matt- do it against my thigh,” through several breathy moans. he moves to kiss your lips and flick his tongue against your own again. when he pulls away you whisper, “please? i wanna watch you, matt.”

he punches his eyes closed and you bring your hand from your shorts up to his mouth, smearing your index and middle fingers across his lips until he opens his mouth and sucks your fingers thoroughly, attempting to give out a moan with his mouth full.

his teeth slightly graze your fingers as you pull them from him, your soft voice meeting his ears while his eyes stare admirably, “you got me all wet,” you show your damp fingers before you move them back to play with your sensitive clit.

matt’s head tilts downwards to watch you move your hand beyond the fabric, taking it upon himself to pull your pink bloomers off of you.

he watches your fingers working eagerly under your lace underwear as he unbuckles his belt as quickly as he can. he glances up at your face, with your mouth hung in an open “o” shape and your hair slightly disheveled, and can’t help but pause his undressing to kiss your cheeks harshly, making his way to your mouth for needy and rushed kisses. you remove your hand from your pleasure to finish unzipping matt’s pants and messily pushing his boxers down far enough to free his dick.

matt lets out a relieved groan at the feeling, removing his lips from you to spit on his hand and immediately wrap it around himself to release the tense pressure. matt holds onto you as he moves himself against the fullest part of your inner thigh, so close to your heat that his stomach recoils just thinking about being inside you.

his moans are just as whiney as yours when you begin to hurriedly hump into your own hand. matt’s face is smushed into the side of your face with heavy breaths and body heat adding to the tumultuous pressure in your core. “matt,” you breathe against him, “i can’t hold-”

he brings his hand to your neck, shushing you, “yeah? s’okay…”

you allow his encouragement and strained voice to aid you as you finish with shaking legs and a string of sharp moans into matt’s ear. you attempt to close your legs but matt forces them to remain wide as he adjusts his dick to lie against your soaked panties before rutting his hips pathetically against the covered area.

you whimper at the feeling and your legs jerk softly whenever his head bumps at your tired clit. you wrap your arms around matt’s neck to keep his body close to yours whispering in his ear how sensitive you are and that he needs to be gentle with you to make him moan into your mouth and promise he’ll try.

your tongue plays in his mouth as matt reaches his peak, groaning (embarrassingly loud for someone who did nothing more than jerk himself against you) and continuing his strokes as he cums on your covered cunt.

he removes himself from on top of you after a few breaths, immediately taking off your filthy underwear and exchanging them for your tiny bloomer shorts for you.

you allow him to care for you as you stare at the ceiling, your body’s sweat becoming apparent as you begin to mentally process the fact that you just participated in the one action you promised yourself (and andrea) you would not commit again. you feel weak and embarrassed where you’d normally feel bubbly and excited to get to spend time with matt after having sex.

you want to cry but you also want to yell. you want to tell matt that you wished he cared about you. you wish he would have called you again instead of taking random girls to bed. you wish he would look up from his fucking phone right now and see you pouting and saddened by what’s happened to the two of you.

you get up from your spot on the bed and walk across the room to grab one of the small pink whitney shooters lying on the dresser. as you twist the cap off you wish you were at home, with your kitten and your warm bed. matt watches you throw the shot back, coating your tongue with a sting and leaving your throat warm.

he slowly makes his way to you as you go to open the second shooter. he wraps his arms around your waist, “do you believe i missed you now?” he leans down to ask into the air next to your face.

you breathe out before taking the second shot silently, pinching your face at the awful taste.

“sunny?”

silence.

you finally turn to look at him, your eyes carry such misery that matt’s face changes from one of contentment to one of complete worry. “what’s going on?”

your mouth is downturned and your brain is foggy, “this is ruining me, matt. you’re not good for me.”

matt’s completely offended, “i’m sorry? did i just spend the last hour and a half with someone else?! what are you talking about?”

you look down at the red wood of the dresser you lean on for balance, “this all was a mistake, i can’t believe i let this happen again …”

matt can’t help but let out a laugh in disbelief, “what the fuck is happening?!” he’s concerned at this point.

“i can’t- like, explain. i’m just-” you’re the worst type of drunk at this point; you’re being a confrontational drunk yet you're too fucked up to make any sense out of what you’re trying to say.

matt rubs his head and grabs the final seltzer from next to you, “y/n,” you can hear the snap of the tab as he opens it, “should i take you to ‘drea?”

you crouch slightly and bury your head in your crossed arms, no longer fighting any tears that escape.

“baby, why are you cryin’? come here, hug me.” he taps your sides to get you to stand and let him hold onto you.

you reluctantly wrap your arms around his middle and allow him to caress your head. “i just don’t think we should do this,” you get out through a small sob.

“hey, i’m gonna get you home and then we’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

after a few moments and calmed breaths you just shake your head and remove yourself from him, letting his arms trail off of you as you walk away and grab your shoes off of the floor.

you stumble over to the bed to put the small kitten heels back on. matt watches you with his eyes and puts the slim can down before he moves close to you and squats down to be level with your feet, “are you sure you wanna put these back on?”

“i don’t need your help,” you mumble and push his hands away from your shoe.

“sunny.”

“matt, you can go!” you finally let out your frustration through yelling.

“sshhh, stop fighting me, y/n!”

you throw the shoe against the floor harder than you intend, “no! don’t tell me what to do. don’t try to treat me all fucking special i know those other girls might get jealous.”

“here we fucking go,” he sighs, “there’s literally no one else, y/n! i haven’t even talked to other chicks tonight, you’re the one who was all over someone else and i’m over that shit! we’re cool and we’re friends so there’s no fucking reason for you to be mad.”

your mouth is flat and your eyes squinted as you look down at him, “i’m talking about the ones you’ve been seeing over the past few months!”

“why’re you sayin’ shit that’s not even true?!” he’s stands upright, “i can’t deal with this shit.”

“i know it’s true!” your lips pout as you fight off crying again.

“no you don’t, because it’s not!” he walks away and begins to slip on his own boots.

“yes i do! chris told me you fucking idiot!” you point at him, letting tears pour once more. your face is crumpled and your eyes welled with salt.

matt shakes his head silently as he finishes lacing up his boots.

you wipe your eyes and slide your second shoe back on before frustratingly removing the bracelet he’d bought you only a little over a month ago for your birthday. you stand up and grab your broken lopsided angel wings from the bed, walking back over to him.

“you done?” he asks roughly.

“yeah. stay out of my life,” you coldly push the bracelet into his chest and move towards the door.

“don’t worry about it, sweetheart. don’t think we’ll need to be friends anymore!” he yells as the door slams. he looks down at the bracelet and runs his thumb over the inscribed frank ocean lyrics, then glances around at the poor shape of cameron’s guest bedroom.

“fuck!” he shouts into the air above him.

* bonus a/n: i know a party + hookup + fight sesh hates to see them coming😭😭😭. no but in all seriousness i can see the toxicity here, pls this is not normal and i know that! BUT their feelings are very complex towards each other and the idea of being loved which causes shit like this to happen to them. by the end of this story they will not be this toxic i promise growth to come lol!!!!

taglist -★

@deadxrx @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @starrysturniolo @st7rnioioss @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @tcvazq @novasturniolo03 @wovenribbons @watercolorskyy @imsosillygoofylol @wh0resstuff @peachmels @h3arts4harry @imaslutforwhitemen @lovingregulusblack @sturnsintrouble @udonknowmeh12 @mattandchrismakemewett @sturnsorbit @mommykinks4matt @bluebayousblog @jetaimevous @eyelovedher89 @grimholic @graysturns @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @sturniolosreads @almondamaretto @kentahoe @blissfulbellss @streamermattsgf @mattandchrismakemewett @starringthesturniolos @moonykai @envyjust @sirenedeslily

[egglain]

Feel You (In My Bones) - The Party & The After Party

Rating: E (18+*) - mdni Pairing: Toji x reader, Choso x reader, Gojo x reader, Geto x reader, Gojo x Geto, Sukuna x reader, Nanami x reader Content: gender-neutral reader (you/yours pronouns), afab language used for reader's anatomy during the smut routes, Gojo party Halloween shenanigans, JJK men making moves (canon-accurate scary Toji & Sukuna), ShokoHime friendship, smut tags differ between endings Word Count: 3.3k/?

Summary: After avoiding it for years, your best friends Shoko and Utahime must bite the bullet; attend a Gojo Halloween party. As fate would have it, you'd fall into the care of a gaggle of ghouls; strangers at the party can't seem to get enough.

Trick, or treat?

Will you let them haunt your holes? Or will you leave the door unanswered?

A/N: welcome to the Egglain Halloween smuttacular! Each bolded phrase is a possibility, a chance to jump the bones of the men you bump into on your journey.

This part can be read on its own, or with any number of the endings; they each stand alone & are unconnected to the main ending and the other routes.

*while this part isn't explicit, the "routes" are. Routes will be posted as they are finished, in the order they appear in the fic; stay tuned!

Growing up, Halloween was good for two things and two things only—candy and costumes.

Candy had become less and less interesting as your frontal lobe developed, and with “adult money,” it was even less of a hot commodity. And costumes weren’t quite acceptable after you hit 14—at least not the same ones you wanted to wear.

So, Halloween evolved into something new.

Nowadays, it meant crowding around the TV with a big bag of popcorn, Shoko and Utahime putting on a scary movie for you to wind down to together. It meant slipping pajamas on early and huddling under thick blankets, lights off, as an anonymous killer pounced on a nameless protagonist. It meant falling asleep between your two closest friends, filling the hole in your heart that adulthood managed to whittle into its tender flesh.

You had grown fond of Halloween, in a new way—perhaps grown fonder of it than you were as a kid. It was no longer a short-lived rush of dopamine, dominated by consumption and the variable kindness of strangers. No, it was a celebration of your friendship. Of your new life. Of your family.

Which is why this sucked ass.

“Party?”

“Yeah,” Shoko took a long drag from the stubby cigarette between her lips, “a… friend’s. Haven’t seen him since high school, really.”

The way she was chewing on her words, speaking on a smoke-filled exhale, told you pretty much everything you needed to know about this friend.

“So why are you going?”

Utahime pinched the skin between her eyes, looking equally as unsatisfied. “It’s… complicated.”

“We’ve been skirting around him for a while now—but the thing about Gojo Satoru is you can only avoid him for so long… he’s like a disease,” Shoko murmured.

“Like a common cold—mostly harmless, but a pain in the ass. Now it’s time to bite the bullet.”

“So… no festivities?”

 “Well… we were hoping you’d come along with us.” Utahime stalled, choosing her words carefully. “You don’t have to—it’ll probably be a lot of drinking and dancing and reminiscing on our high school years… probably some of Gojo’s bigshot friends. But you’d get to wear a costume!”

“And if any of Gojo’s freakzoid friends bother you, we’ll cut their dicks off.” Shoko flicked her cigarette to the pavement and crushed the dying butt under a heel.

You didn’t doubt she would.

Which is how you ended up here.

Firstly, Gojo Satoru’s house could put mansions to shame.

Secondly, this was not the “high school reunion” you were expecting.

Dozens of strangers filled the glass-paned main floor of the home, spilling out onto the well-manicured lawn with bottles and solo cups in hand. It was like a scene out of every shitty teen film—music blared from somewhere in the house, colourful LEDs illuminating the otherwise dark gathering. Skimpy devils and sexy cops hung off the arms of Ghostfaces and… an Elvis impersonator?

Shoko and Utahime on your flanks, you managed to push your way inside. They were skittish—on-edge almost. You weren’t sure who this Gojo Satoru was, aside from an old friend, but by the looks of it, he had to be important. If not for his seemingly endless wealth or his obscene amount of apparent social power, for this disease-like personality.

Nerves were understandable. But as Shoko and Utahime pulled away, whispering among themselves—as you lost them in the crowd—you felt less and less empathy.

Now, standing alone in the centre of a lofty living room, awkwardly swaying to the music in a sea of intoxicated bodies, you couldn’t help but feel a little resentment for this Gojo guy.

Dancers jostled you this way and that as you fumbled for your phone. With shaky fingers, you opened the group chat, trying to flag down your missing friends.

hey think i lost u guys

where r y’all?

hello?

“All alone n’ without a drink?”

A gravelly voice woke you from your stupor.

A tall man—probably a good head taller than you— held out a hand. A silvery scar tugged at the stranger’s lips as he grinned, clearly in on some joke you weren’t.

Something about this man was predatory; he was dressed in simple clothes, a slutty gun holster strapped to his left upper thigh overtop of too-tight black jeans. The muscles of his quads strained against the fabric, as did the full pectorals framed by his compression tee.

“Leon Kennedy?”

“Who?” The stranger cocked an eyebrow.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Your costume.”

“I’m a hitman.”

Taking in the gun and the way he composed himself—that arrogant mug, the bulging arms crossed over his fat chest—he played the bit well.

“Fitting.”

“Let me grab ya something to drink.”

You mulled it over.

 “I’m good, thanks…”

“Aw, c’mon. I don’t bite.”

“Oh, no—no thanks.”

You really didn’t want to get on this guy’s bad side. The gun glinted as the LEDs faded to purple and he caught the way your eyes danced along the barrel. It had to be metal. Looked heavy enough, and very realistic.

“Ya like? It’s the real deal.”

Cold shot through your veins, and it took every fibre of your being to not falter at his words.

His grin didn’t meet his eyes. The empty way he was looking down at you left no room for interpretation—he was telling the truth.

You tried to laugh but the sound didn’t come out quite right.

You took a step back, bumping into someone behind you. You didn’t dare turn around. The man took a step forward, following your movement.

“Wanna touch?”

“Oh, no thanks.”

“C’mon—”

“No, man.”

Another voice. You turned around.

A guy—much closer to your age—wrapped a protective arm around your midsection. Deep brown eyes met yours, and the cold melted away inside.

The stranger looked terrifying. Long dark hair was pulled up into twin spiked buns. The pale column of his throat was constricted by thick leather collars, heavy with metal padlocks. He was slender—thinner than the other man—but the ink across the bridge of his nose, and down his arms and chest, made it clear he could handle his pain too.

However, there was one main difference between him and the other stranger—kindness. Dark eyeliner and purple bags rimmed surprisingly soft eyes. While he had wrapped his arm around you, his hand didn’t make contact with your hip.

“You okay, babe?”

Heat flooded your face. You opened your mouth to reply, but almost as soon as it began, his arm fell away.

“Sorry about that. The guy just seemed like he was bothering you, and I hate men who can’t seem to take no for an answer, and I wasn’t sure how else to—”

Looking behind you, the scary stranger from earlier had disappeared into the crowd. The man in front of you was scratching at the back of his neck, flushed in apparent shame. Something in your heart twinged.

“No, no—I owe you one. Thanks for helping… I wasn’t sure how I was gonna get out of that mess.”

The stranger seemed pleased with that answer.

“Anyone else would’ve done the same… no need to thank me.” He smiled down at his shoes—short black platform docs that were scuffing at the shiny tile. “But maybe we could… get to know each other better sometime?”

Your heart fluttered.

“I mean—I just sort of grabbed you, and I wouldn’t want a stranger to do that to me, so maybe um… we can stop being strangers?” He rushed to explain.

The panic in his eyes was endearing. That kindness in him was so painfully evident.

“I’d like that.”

The bright smile that spread across his otherwise sullen face could have put the sun to shame.

“I have to find my friends right now, but maybe I could give you my number?”

He was nodding so fast it was a miracle his head didn’t fly off.

You padded your number into a slim black phone.

“There. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Choso Kamo.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Choso Kamo.”

With that, and another brilliant smile, you were alone again.

You checked your phone. A “hi!” text from an unknown number—Choso, you assume—and two texts from Utahime lit up the screen.

out back by the pool

see u soon

You pushed your way through the crowd, on the hunt for your friends.

The backyard was an oasis—or, perhaps it would be, if it wasn’t packed full of half-drunk half-costumed partygoers. Utahime and Shoko stood at the marble edge of a too-blue pool, speaking with a tall Playboy bunny and… Pitbull?

Approaching, you could see the tension melting out of Utahime’s shoulders as you met eyes.

“This is Gojo Satoru—that friend we were telling you about.” Utahime’s well-manicured nails extended to the one in the Pitbull costume.

A jovial laugh—too youthful to match the bald exterior—filled the air as the man smiled at you. He was tall. Freakishly so. And startlingly pale. Long white lashes lined too-blue eyes, striking even through his tinted sunglasses.

“Oh please. Call me Mr. Worldwide.”

Shoko rolled her eyes.

Utahime’s hand extended to the man next to Gojo. “This is Suguru Geto. Another friend from high school.”

The man—Suguru Geto—was almost as tall as Gojo Satoru. Silky black hair was tied half-up in a loose bun, the rest of his tresses spilling over his shoulder and plump chest.

And oh what a chest it was.

Soft fat tits spilled out over a low-cut black corset, jiggling like pudding as he laughed at Shoko’s unimpressed expression. The latex corset tapered off sharply, curvy hips and large thighs caged in loose-knit fishnets. Black bunny ears sat slightly askew on top of his head.

He looked delicious.

“You feeling alright?” Suguru asked, head tilting a little.

“Oh—me? Yeah, totally fine.”

“Are you sure…?”

“We can take you inside for some peace and quiet,” the bald man supplied, nudging Suguru.

Utahime and Shoko were giving you a look.

The kind that you’d learned to avoid.

The kind that said absolutely not.

Creep-o’clock.

Stay away.

“Oh—that’s very kind. But I think I’m alright. Thank you.”

You made a mental note to ask follow-up questions later.

Shoko put a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, long red nails digging into his shoulder. “Why don’t we go in? I could use some water.”

Gojo, Geto, Shoko, and Utahime exchanged looks, speaking a language in gazes that you couldn’t quite understand. Utahime nodded, shepherding the men back towards the house. Shoko lingered behind for a moment.

“They’re losers. Enjoy your night; we’ll keep ‘em busy a little longer.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of her costume—a white medical coat—and put one between her front teeth. “Give us a couple more minutes and then we’ll make up an excuse to head home, alright?”

You nodded, and she gave you a firm pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd after the other three.

Once again, you were alone.

“Keep getting abandoned tonight, huh?”

Warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear, low rich voice cutting through the incessant buzzing of the party.

“That’s not what ‘friends’ do, is it?”

“How is that any of your business?” Spinning around to face the assailant, the words died midway.

He was tall.

Impossibly so—comfortably towering over the crowd.

“Telling me I can’t look at you?” He snorted, cracking his neck and knuckles.

And he was large.

Larger than the man with the scar, even.

A monster.

“Well—no…”

With the cocky way he was smirking down at you, he was aware of it too. His eyes, red, glinted with amusement as you fumbled the ending of what was supposed to be a witty comeback.

“Good. Then I think it’s my business.”

Confidence—he wore it well. It suited the hard planes of his face, the arrogant quirk of his lips accentuating the strength of his boxy jaw. Big inked arms flexed as he dug his hands a little deeper into the pockets of his orange prison jumpsuit. The top half was undone, sleeves fastened around his waist. A black wifebeater clung to the contours of a strong chest, tattoos creeping out from beneath the straps to trail over his shoulders.

He was the picture of a stereotypical inmate.

The only thing that stuck out, however, was the soft pink of his hair.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

The man quirked a slitted eyebrow.

“Somethin’ funny, brat?”

“No, no—sorry… just your costume.”

“What about it?”

“Just looks like you put a lot of effort into it, is all.”

He was looking at you—really looking. His gaze was weighted, and you could feel his eyes bearing holes into yours. He struck you as a rich boy; the type who were used to getting what they wanted, used to women throwing themselves onto him. So, if he was going to try to intimidate you, it wouldn’t work. You held his gaze.

“Put a couple years into it, yeah….” The words were slow, dripping in an innuendo you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

You opened your mouth to move the conversation elsewhere, but with him looking at you so unabashedly—so intensely—it was hard to think. Hard to breathe, even.

Your neck twinged, aching from the way it was bent to look up at him.

Fuck.

When did he get so close?

“O-Oh yeah?”

“Mhmmm,” he drawled, stepping in even closer. The toe of his heavy boots bumped against yours, and you could once again feel the heat of his breath on you. “Wanna see it up close?”

“You’re really close already—”

“I meant off my body.”

Fuck.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

He was no good—it didn’t take a psychologist to see there was something fundamentally off about this guy.

His aura—malevolent—set off alarm bells through your entire body.  

He carried himself with a deeply-ingrained confidence, a surety that had your heart racing and your stomach dropping… but seeing him up close, you weren’t sure how you had ever mistaken him for some pampered rich boy. No. His tanned skin was littered with little scars and burns, well-worn. He was a fighter… and from the looks of it, a winning one.

Ice spread down your spine. Your body tensed.

Fight or flight was activating—fight, however, would stand no chance against this man. Turning on your heel, you began to walk away.

“Hey! Where you goin’?” His gruff voice called after you, but you didn’t dare turn back.

Beelining it back to the house, you sought out the kitchen. The place was a maze, but picking up the trail of partygoers with drinks in hand, you eventually found your way.

Shoko and Utahime stood around a large marble island with Gojo and Geto, huddled in to chat amongst themselves. Catching the movement in the corner of her eye, Shoko did a double-take upon your entrance. You communicated with your eyes in that secret language now; let’s go. Now.

With a tug on Utahime’s sleeve, the two were pulling away from the men.

“Wait—what’s happening?” Big blue eyes peered out from over the goofy sunglasses. “Leaving already?”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for this Gojo guy; not seeing his friends in a long time, partially because of you, and now having them torn away early because you made some poor choices with the wrong guy.

“Sorry, Gojo—I just… don’t feel well.”

Gojo looked between you and the two women, cogs turning in his mind.

“Nanami can take you home. He’s a good guy.”

“We’re leaving together.” Utahime spoke with no room for argument, hand on your shoulder.

You brushed it off, shaking your head. “It’s okay, ‘hime. Enjoy your night.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, too-white grin spreading across those too-white cheeks. “Then it’s settled! C’mon, let’s find him together.”

While you probably didn’t need the escort, you appreciated Gojo’s guiding hand, if not for anything but his lanky limbs and ability to part the crowd. It was a nice bonus that it gave some semblance of security against that inmate. Though, seeing the size of that guy, it was hard to imagine scrawny Satoru standing a chance against him.

In the living room, Gojo clasped a large blonde man on the shoulder, startling him from where he was chatting with a jovial brown-haired guy you didn’t recognize.

“Nanamin!.”

The blonde man sighed, turning around to eye Gojo warily. He was chiseled. The hard set of his lips matched the low seat of his brows as he met the host’s eyes.

“Gojo.” His voice was stern. Unimpressed.

“I need a little teeny weeny favour—could ya do one for me?”

The blonde man sighed, and he rubbed his forehead in a way that reminded you of Shoko. He clearly felt the same way about Satoru Gojo. Weirdly enough, it relaxed you.

“What is it?”

“I need you to drive someone home.”

Gojo dragged you between them by the shoulders, thrusting you towards the stranger.

Nanami smiled down at you sympathetically.

“Should have started with that, Satoru.”

“Oopsie. Noted! Well, I’m leaving things to you, Nanamin.”

Gojo released you, opting to wave his goodbye as the blonde man guided you to the front door.

Nanami, as you’d soon find out, was a gentleman.

Definitely too good for Gojo Satoru.

You’d also find out that he was a collector of old cars; ones which he cared for well, and ones with doors he opened for you. You’d learn he was the designated driver for all the parties he attended, as he had never found interest in social drinking, but appreciated a glass or two of whiskey alone. You’d also learn he was very single—the main reason why Gojo dragged him to every party he threw. Which he allowed, as it was his way of repaying his old friend.

Surprisingly, he went to high school with Shoko, Utahime, Gojo, and Geto as well—though he was a year younger than them (something you would have never expected from his visage alone).

(Gojo had aged him, apparently).

He drove you home with light conversation and soft jazz on the radio, a refreshing break from the mind-numbing bass of Gojo’s party playlist. He offered you water from a closed bottle—the expensive stuff—and rolled down the windows so you could get some air. It did wonders for your condition, although it was never much of a physical one.

Pulling into the driveway of your shared housing complex, he killed the engine and hopped out to grab the door again.

“Thank you, Nanami… you really didn’t have to do that.”

He raised a hand, stopping the thought.

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for the excuse to get some air; I don’t know if I would’ve survived otherwise.”

He smiled, soft and genuine, as he helped you up the steps. Unneeded, but appreciated. You didn’t have the heart to shoo him away.

“I wish we could have met under better circumstances,” he breathed as you reached the front door, fumbling for your keys.

“Me too… would you like to come in for some tea, maybe?”

Nanami chuckled, loosening the spotted tie around his neck. Business-casual looked good on him… though you weren’t sure you understood the costume.

“I should head back; someone has to keep Satoru in check.”

You nod, swallowing the disappointment.

“But I’d enjoy seeing you again. May I grab your number? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

***

Once again, you had grown a new appreciation of Halloween— maybe not a stronger one than the one you had for cozy movie cuddles with your best friends, but it was something. A celebration of the good friends you had. Of the new friends you’d made. Of the new adventures you could share together.

And oddly enough, you were looking forward to the next one.

[imtryingandtired]

Episode ideas for a NATM series that should exist

- McPhee ending up getting fired as museum curator because of complaints from museum guests not liking him all that much and getting replaced with a much worse person, so Larry tries to get him back

- War breaks out between the Wild West and Rome exhibit despite Jed and Octavius being friends now and them having to try getting to the bottom of this sudden aggression

- A buzzfeed unsolved type group starts to believe the natural history museum is haunted and decide to have a lockdown type stream in it to catch ghostly activity

- Larry has some time off as night guard and his temporary replacement ends up being the worst, leading to them trying to get Larry to come back

- Obligatory body swap or Freaky Friday episode for the fun of it

- Larry gets to go back to the Smithsonian after they borrow ahk and the tablet for a exhibit featuring the gate of kahmunrah (new wax statue or his actual corpse), him and Ahk reuniting

- The anniversary of Wea and Teddy getting together comes up and the exhibits try planning the perfect date for them, going the slightest bit overboard

- Halloween special where Ahk discovers a lone statue in the basement while exploring and befriends them, only to find out no statues are actually down there and revealed to be a spirit

- Christmas carol type episode with McPhee as Scrooge

- Flashback episode to Ahks childhood and eventual death (also this episode focusing on his time at Cambridge)

- One of Larry’s invention prototypes get discovered by some big tech boss who wants to help him make it big in the industry, making the exhibits worry that he’ll leave

- Teddy ends up having to be taken away for repairs after fetch with rexy gets too hectic, but when he comes back he’s acting completely different and the gang try to get to the bottom of it

- Ahk decides to sneak out of the museum one night to see how much the world has changed since he’s been let out of his sarcophagus and shenanigans ensue as Larry runs around New York trying to find him

Leave suggestions for other episode ideas

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Your Personal Ghost｡⋆.

Brahms Heelshire x plus size reader

As a writer, you need peace and quiet but it seems the ghost in your new home has some other ideas for you

Warnings: paranoia, sort of stalking, usual Brahms shenanigans, nudity, little bit of smut, m and f masturbation, voyeurism

WC: 861

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Halloween Celebration

That feeling was back, the feeling that you were being watched, like eyes were cutting into the back of your head, observing every move you made. A shiver rolled down your spine but you shook it off in favour of continuing your work.

The house was old, very fucking old, so it was bound to have a few ghosts. That is what you bought the place, you hoped that those spirits could help inspire you, your publisher was getting very pushy for a new book.

You had hoped that the manor in the picturesque English countryside, which was being sold for a very reasonable price, would give you some ideas and motivation for a new novel. But so far, your writer’s block had turned into a full on story dam and you had developed a pervasive feeling of paranoia. The old ass furniture that creaked when you so much as looked at it didn’t help much either.

The small cursor on your laptop screen seemed to mock you as it blinked away in your empty document. You had written about 30 story ideas since you moved in a month ago but you deleted all of them, or at least you assumed you deleted them because they would disappear when you woke up in the morning. None of the stories felt right, they were all either too overdone or not creative enough for a full length book and it was quickly driving you crazy.

“God!” You groaned and leaned back into your desk chair, covering your eyes with frustration. “How the fuck does Stephen King do this?” You whined as your fingertips dug into your temples in an attempt to massage away the tension headache that was beginning to form. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sat forwards again. “I need a break.” The legs of the chair scraped against the old hardwood, echoing through the otherwise silent office. A glance at the window revealed yet another cloudy day and you wondered if it was ever sunny here. 

The eyes of the creepy portraits in the hall followed you as you walked by, like they always did but you truly didn’t have the energy to deal with them today. Your bedroom was a complete mess but you told yourself it was a functional mess as you stepped around several piles of clothes and books on your way to the bathroom. 

A huge claw-foot tub rested beneath a large window overlooking the expansive grounds of the manor, providing you with literally the best baths you had ever taken. Soon enough, hot steam began to fill the room and the sound of running water overpowered the buzz of fear that almost constantly filled your head. A couple drops of lavender essential oils and some bubble bath completed your little ritual.

Shedding off your ratty writing clothes, you stepped into the tub. Immediately the hot water relaxed your tense muscles and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You sank further into the water, letting your tired eyes flutter shut as your hands travelled down the length of your soft body, coming to rest at the seam of your thighs.

“Maybe I need to properly relax. It has been a while.” You murmured to yourself as your fingertips began to explore your sensitive inner thighs. A quiet mewl slipped through your lips, stoking the fire that was beginning to blaze in your belly. Your hips bucked into your hand, keening for your own touch.

“Fuuuck.” You whined as you finally brushed against your clit, sending a ripple of pleasure through your body. Water light lapped at the edges of the porcelain tub as your body moved, chasing your end. But even through the sound of the water and your breathless moans, you heard something else.

A loud creak and the trembling of the wall. You froze and looked around the room, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. There was a crack in the wallpaper on the wall opposite you and you swore that something moved behind it but as you waited, holding your breath in fear, nothing happened. 

You groaned before you let out a relieved laugh. “God, this place is haunted.” Your hands did not return to your previous activities, instead you shut your eyes and let the still warm water caress your body, unaware of the very real presence behind the wall.

His cooling cum coated Brahms’s hand and pants as he struggled to catch his breath through his pale mask. His eyes remained locked on your barely concealed body as his cock began to twitch back to life, he wished that you would play with yourself again but he was still content to see you completely bare to him, just as he had dozens of times before.

He so badly wished to reveal himself to you, to have you touch him instead of only imagining it while he used your stolen clothes to wrap around his cock. You would stay here forever with him, he would guarantee it but he had to be patient. At least today he didn’t have to sneak out of the wall and delete your manuscript again.

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[jjenthusee]

🎃 Halloween Shenanigans Pt.2 🎃

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: i’m like the only one wearing a halloween themed shirt on campus rn so im kinda sad no one wanted to be festive 😭 but HAPPY HALLOWEEN ✨😌✨ i’ve been busy with exams this week, so sorry for the short drabbles lately, but ENJOY :) comment if your comfortable, reblog and u will get some flowers 💐 and like if u can <3

Tags: MATCHING HALLOWEEN SHIRTS, worried jason, reader is going to give jason more white hair, pumpkin carving

Check out pt. 1 here!

You grabbed the two round pumpkins, setting them on the table right next to each other. Each picked with the intention to carve them.

“Maybe we should’ve grabbed some carving tools cause all I’ve got are the stuff from my patrol.” Jason came out, wearing the same Halloween themed shirt as you did, holding onto very sharp and dangerous knives that he kept somewhere deep in his utility belt. “They’re clean by the way.”

You glanced over to where he was standing. You watched how he effortlessly handled them.

“Do you trust me with those?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow in question while glancing at the glistening edges of the recently sharpened knives.

“Uh…” Jason contemplated, staring at your eyes shining at the opportunity to handle something so deadly. “Maybe I can run to the store.”

He started to safely put them away.

“They’ve practically replaced all the Halloween stuff with the next holiday items, so we have no choice.” You started to reach for the utility belt.

“And leave you with a knife dangerous enough to cut through Batman’s grappling lines? Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Jason started to turn around to put back his patrol gear.

“Wait! I have you. You’ll help me.” You tried to reason. “It’s also Halloween, we can’t go to the store, there will be nothing there.”

Jason looked back at you, mentally listing all the dangers. His white streak of hair drooping as low as his frown when he couldn’t find a sliver of reason.

“Pleaaaase.” You kept persisting.

Jason sighed.

“This is a horrible idea.”

“Yay!” You cheerfully walked back to the table, getting out a sheet of paper, inking Red Hood’s emblem on it. You were originally planning to do a ghost design, but you had to make sure Jason would let you carve this pumpkin tonight, no matter what.

And if that meant being a suck up, then you were carving that emblem like your life depended on it.

Jason sighed again as he pulled out the chair next to you, watching you draw.

“You really aren’t holding back.” He pulled your chair right next to his, resting his arm on the back to minimize some distance between you.

“Only cause Red Hood is the most handsome, amazing as hell, sexiest vigilante in the entire world.” You smiled wide, patting Jason affectionately on the cheek to seal the deal.

He grabbed your hand, pecking a small kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Gleefully you leaned back, turning your head to kiss his shoulder. The fabric of your matching shirts meeting the edge of your mouth.

You got back to your art piece, trying to make sure the design was perfect.

As Jason watched you, you just let the thoughts of your mind run out. Dinner plans, did you get enough candy for tonight, how you planned to watch all the horror movies you could.

It was questions filled with excitement to Jason as he nuzzled into you, giving as fast of responses as he could, but a big smile was on his face as he listened to you talk and ramble.

“Maybe I could dress up as you next year.” You thoughtlessly said, puncturing holes in the pumpkin for your outline.

Jason’s eye widened. He strangely really liked the idea. A little too much.

“Could you imagine me saving you?” You chuckled to yourself, imagining trying to carry Jason in your arms to safety. “I might have to start exercising to build up the muscle.”

You started your plan in your head. Your eyebrows lowering and nodding as you were starting to like the plan.

“Then I can take a photo of me carrying you, dressed as you.” You looked back at Jason, seriously meeting his gaze.

He was taken back, at your intensity and the clear devotion you were willing to put in.

“You can’t carry me.” Jason lazily shook his head, reaching up to rub the back of your neck affectionately.

“Just you wait. I’m gonna do it.” You turned back to carving. Determination seeping into your veins.

Jason let you get back to mentally planning as he worriedly watched your every move. This was a very dangerous activity. He shouldn’t have let you do this at all.

Once your arms were getting tired from carving, you put the knife down.

“If I can’t even carve this, how will I carry you?” You leaned back into your chair, back into Jason’s side.

“I can finish it.” He kissed your temple.

“No, I’m determined.” You puffed.

Jason was going to break out into a cold sweat.

—

After much arm strength and a piece of candy, you managed to carve out the pumpkin, but it wasn’t that good.

There were knife marks in areas you didn’t mean to put, it was a miracle that you managed to get the general shape of the bat symbol.

“Maybe I’ll let you be the one to handle the knives from now on.” You put the candle in the hallowed center, gently lightning the carving.

You admired your work despite how clumsy it looked.

“It’s perfect.” Jason was finally breathing, he held every breath each time you stabbed the pumpkin.

“Let’s put it outside!” You placed the pumpkin outside your front door.

Jason had managed to carve his, the iconic pumpkin face next to yours. He finished his as quickly as he could since he didn’t want to leave you unsupervised for too long.

He definitely won’t forget another carving kit after this year.

[irisintheafterglow]

hii iris!! being one of my fav writers, i was wondering if it would be okay to please request you write something halloween related between Satoru and reader while they're in a lowkey relationship and instructors at jujutsu tech? maybe he drags reader and the students on some night of shenanigans? up to u, i just love how u write and i feel you'd kill this hehe

thank u so much! have an awesome day!

life's no fun without a good scare

summary: you have the brilliant idea of playing hide and seek in a corn maze against the most powerful sorcerer in the world. should be fun, right?

wc: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff and crack and crack and fluff, established relationship, swearing (a lot of it, you'll see why lol), mentions of eating, angst if you squint, co-parenting megumi AND his friends!!

note: AAAA hi!! thank you so much for the love omg :')) i hope you like this, i definitely enjoyed writing it even though i did get a tad carried away lol. GOD this was so fun to write, thank you for suggesting it

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3 thank you for your support!!

“I’m going to eat so much candy, I’ll throw up.”

“What’re those tubs over there?”

“They’re for waterboarding Itadori,” Megumi deadpans without hesitation, clearly misrepresenting the apple bobbing game just ahead. You state his name warningly, like he was six years old again, and he mutters a half-hearted apology under his breath. “Maybe we switch out the victim for our esteemed teacher, instead.” You cover a snort with an unsuccessful cough. Even though you’d practically raised him, his jabs at Satoru never lost their humor. 

“Your suggestion will be taken into careful consideration,” you say, “though it will become more of a possibility if he continues to run on Satoru-time.” Nobara hums in agreement, kicking a stray piece of hay with her toe while you continue to progress through the general admission line to the pumpkin patch. Your fashionably-late boyfriend had sent you a very cryptic text at noon, instructing you to “pack up the kids and take them to the following address.” When you replied with a chain of question marks, he sent an infuriatingly unserious GIF that had you pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What time did he tell you?”

“5:00.” You check your phone preemptively, already anticipating the followup question. 

“And what time is it now?”

“5:20,” you sigh, sliding your card across the shelf of the ticket booth and receiving four orange wristbands in return. After slipping them onto the wrists of your three unofficial children, Itadori and Nobara immediately disappear into the crowd; Megumi, however, stays plastered to your shoulder and makes his distaste for the bustling festival known. You scan nearby groups of people for a tall idiot with white hair with no luck. If Satoru still showed up, he would have to pay for admission himself. “Let’s grab a table and find me a bottle of soju–”

“Barely twenty minutes and you’re already drinking? Since when did Shoko replace my lovely partner?” Satoru’s sing-song voice calls out from behind you, like he’d been standing with you the entire time. Despite your attempts to remain irritated at him, you can’t resist when he turns you around, lacing his fingers with yours and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Hi, gorgeous. What took you so long?”

“I assumed you were running late, like you always do,” you argue futilely, the world melting away when you catch his eyes over the rims of his sunglasses. “Is this not too overwhelming for you? Having so many energy signatures in one place?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you with a confident wave of his hand. “After all, I have your energy to ground me.” Your legs start to feel a bit gelatinous when you hear a very obvious throat clearing itself and suddenly remember that Megumi is still standing there. “Shouldn’t you be on the playground or something, my dear student?”

“Shouldn’t you be on the playground or something, my questionable teacher?” You burst out laughing and your boyfriend’s jaw drops in indignance, gearing up to say something just as childish. On instinct, you cover his mouth with your hand, recoiling in disgust when his tongue darts out to lick your palm. “Gross. I’m gonna find my friends.” 

“Don’t do anything dumb!” The boy waves his hand dismissively and you roll your eyes. In a different universe where he actually was the child of you and Satoru, he had his father’s sass gene. 

“He’s used to this by now, isn’t he?” Satoru chuckles and it reverberates against your body, making your head spin in lovesick circles.

“I’d imagine so, seeing as we did raise him like this,” you answer, letting him start to guide you toward whatever stand interests him first, his arm draped over your shoulders. “Do you think Yuuji and Nobara have figured it out?”

“If Megs hasn’t told them, then definitely not,” he states with utmost certainty, looking over one of the games with all the concentration of a hunting tiger. In the middle of the stall was a large pool of water, and swirling around in it were small, colorful bowls in the shape of blooming flowers. The goal, you guessed, was to land a small ball in a certain color and get a corresponding prize from the lineup hanging overhead. It was truly an enticing array of stuffed animals, too, from wolves and monkeys to dinosaurs and little princess dolls. “Which one do you want?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” 

“Choose a prize and I’ll get it for you, guaranteed.” 

“Guaranteed? You do know these are designed to scam you, right?”

“And I am designed to do whatever you want, so take your pick.” After a moment of consideration, you point to a stuffie of a black cat wearing a pumpkin costume. “Cute choice.”

“It reminds me of Megs.” He laughs and pulls his arm back, stretching his neck from side to side and handing a few dollars to the game attendant. It was all for show and completely unnecessary, and he knew that; he also knew that his over-the-top shenanigans always made you laugh after a stressful week. Whether you knew it or not, he’d noticed you were increasingly overwhelmed by all the work from the previous days, specifically regarding training his students while he was off on an assignment. Along with completing your own missions, you were supervising the three first years and guiding them through boring paperwork, which he knew made you feel like shit. It’s why he suggested you go to the festival in the first place, to get your mind off of work and spend time with you. And, he’d be damned if he didn’t get you that fuzzy little cat on his first try. 

“Watch the master at work, sweetheart,” is the last thing he says before carefully tossing the first of three balls toward the only purple bowl in the pool. He’s the tiniest bit off, though, and he curses under his breath as it ricochets against the edge and into the water. “That was a practice shot.”

“Sure, baby, sure,” you giggle, stifling your amusement into a fist. His tongue peeks out the side of his mouth in absentminded focus and you’re sure he’s found the perfect arc when the voice of one of his students cheers from behind you. 

“You’ve got this!” Despite their well wishes, Yuuji and Nobara accidentally timed their cheers at the precise moment his fingers let go of the ball, messing up his aim even worse than the first time. They deflate in embarrassment and Megumi’s face turns red from trying not to laugh. The usual deadly aura radiating off of him increases tenfold and it makes you shiver despite the warm autumn air. “T-Third time’s the charm, sir!”

“Fucking hell, why do I even bother–”

“Satoru, that’s cheating,” you whisper, sensing him imbuing the tiniest amount of Cursed Energy into the last ball to easily manipulate its trajectory. “I can just buy the thing online; you don’t need to be doing all of this.”

“I can buy you anything online, but I also want to prove that I’m better than everyone else,” he mutters much too seriously than the situation required. “Plus, once I win that damn cat, it’ll have a nice story to go behind it.” 

“Your ego truly knows no bounds.”

“You know you love it.”

A minute later, you’re walking away from the game with the fuzzy cat in your arms and Satoru’s arrogant smirk by your side. The rest of the night is spent watching him drag his students into various inflatable obstacle courses and tumbling down the slide after they push him over the edge. In spite of all the excitement, you have to drag them to a picnic table to sit and eat; even then, the three students challenge their teacher to a funnel cake eating contest. To no one’s surprise, Yuuji wins by a landslide. 

Satoru pays for everything, of course. When someone wanders over to a game booth, he pays for their game every single time and continues to pay until they win a prize. By the end of the night, all five of you have at least one prize in your possession and Satoru’s bank account is barely affected. 

Before the fair closes, you propose a game of hide and seek in the gigantic corn maze. You and the three students would get a five minute head start, and then Satoru would enter and race to find you before you reached the other side. The first years’ eyes shine with excitement when you tell them they can use techniques as long as they don’t make a mess. You consider throwing a veil over the entire thing, just to make sure Megumi’s dogs don’t start any rumors of hellhounds in the area. 

“If the kids can use theirs, then you’re not allowed to use your technique,” Satoru concludes and you make a noise of indignation while you gameplan by the entrance of the maze. “Don’t start with me; that’s totally fair!”

“I don’t understand how that’s fair in any way,” you argue up at his ridiculously confident smirk. You wanted to slap him and make out with him at the same time, none of which would have been appropriate in present company. 

“You make portals, sweetheart. If we’re making the maze a no-fly zone and I run into one of your doorways, I’m gonna be in there for the rest of time.”

“I’ll just make simple doors!” 

“The last time you said that, I was stuck on a mountain for three hours,” he reminds you and you huff in defeat, completely forgetting the three pairs of eyes watching this entire conversation. Sweetheart? Since when did he call anyone sweetheart? Nobara and Yuuji knew that you both were friends from high school, but the bickering seemed suspiciously akin to that of an old married couple. They glance at their spiky haired friend for confirmation of their theories, but he avoids their gaze and continues munching on pumpkin spice popcorn. “Alright, five minutes on the clock. Don’t let me catch you,” he smiles wickedly and you all but shove the three students into the maze. 

In a blink, Megumi summons his dogs and sends them to look for the exit. As you sprint down straightaways, Nobara intermittently sticks a few nails into the walls, essentially creating security sensors that will trigger if Satoru passes by it. It also helps establish what paths you’ve already explored and where you need to go next. In what feels like seconds, five minutes is gone and your heart drops as you see a black veil descend over the maze. The atmosphere of the maze feels electric, like wind before a storm, and you nervously laugh and urge the students to move faster. 

“So, are we ever going to talk about you and Gojo?” 

“That’s what you’re focused on right now?” You shoot back in amusement and Nobara shrugs, sending another nail into the corn with a strike of her hammer. “I don’t think this is the proper place to have this conversation!”

“So, are you two actually dating? Megumi won’t say anything, but he’s a terrible liar when we ask if he knows something!”

“I think the latter shooting ominous strikes of lightning into the air is a more pressing issue!”

“Lightning strikes which, I’ll add, are increasingly getting closer!” Yuuji’s voice rises to a panicked yelp and you curse in disbelief as your group slams into another dead end, giggling from sheer fear and swatting the students to find another way. All the while, blasts of pure Cursed Energy fly upward like fireworks, illuminating the field in terrifying shades of blue and red. “Any status on the nails?”

“He just passed the third one closest to us,” Nobara reports, face slowly losing color as the most powerful sorcerer in the world hunts you down. “You can’t send Nue to stall him?”

“You think a bird is going to stop Gojo Satoru?” 

“Well, your damn dogs haven’t come back yet and we’re running out of options–” The back-and-forth is cut short by a faint howl coming from the back right corner of the maze, just a few hundred yards away. One of the dogs appears from the floor, hooking a sharp right turn that has you four stumbling to catch up to it. The howls continue, as do the strikes of lightning, while you follow the dog to what you assume is the exit. “The nails haven’t picked up his energy signature in a while,” Nobara informs you in slight relief while the howling grows closer with every step. Yuuji’s mouth breaks into a victorious grin, but you and Megumi aren’t convinced. 

“Does that mean we lost him? Or did he get lost?” 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” you mutter low enough for only Megumi to hear and he nods in agreement. “I don’t feel him anywhere.” 

“That cracking behind us is just the corn, right?” Yuuji’s voice becomes uncertain and the static in the air only becomes more palpable. You’re so close to the exit and you can tell he’s getting nearer, but something in your gut tells you that you can beat him. But, Nobara’s realization makes your blood run cold. 

“Wait, I don’t sense any of my nails anymore–” 

“Found you.”

Your throats rip a collectively brutal screech as Satoru’s voice seems to come from directly behind you, and you glance backward to only see a pair of knife-sharp blue eyes staring through the black corridor of the maze. Colorful curses of fear babble from the mouths of the students and you slam your feet even harder into the ground as you sprint for the exit. The bright lights of the pumpkin sign were in sight; you just had to make it a little farther. 

“Elephant, elephant, elephant!” Yuuji’s suggestion comes out as incoherent yelps and he tries to fire off black flashes to no avail. Megumi looks at him like he’d grown four new limbs. 

“What?!”

“Summon the fucking elephant, Fushiguro!” A nail rockets away behind you only to be immediately sent back, embedding itself in the husk by your feet. 

“I hate to break it to you, but the elephant isn’t going to do anything when–”

“When I’m already right behind you,” he whispers directly into your ear and you scream as his footsteps line up with yours and his arms snake under your legs, lifting you off the ground like you weighed no more than a cotton ball. He disappears with you into darkness, firing off a single precise attack that cuts the lights of the entire exit so that the path is pitch black. Somehow, you end up outside of the maze while the three students continue to panic inside and he gently sets you on your feet. His menacing aura disappears in a blink and he nuzzles his nose into your neck, his arms holding you close by your waist. “I found you,” he says with a smile. 

“You did. I know you always do, eventually.”

“Mhmm. Did you have fun?”

“Honestly, that was the most terrifying experience of my entire existence,” you laugh, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging him even closer. He chuckles warmly, ironically just as quiet as the fearful bickering of your students in the maze. You barely feel any sweat on his forehead against your shoulder and you can’t even imagine how messy you looked after running for your life. “I look like shit, don’t I?”

“You’ve never looked prettier,” he murmurs, pulling away briefly to press a kiss to your cheek. “We should probably go grab the kids.” You hum absentmindedly, vaguely making out the voices of Megumi and Yuuji trying to figure out which way to go. 

“Stay here a little longer. Let them think you’ve taken me away to your scary vampire lair, or something.”

“As you wish, sweetheart. I'll be your scary vampire anytime.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[the-s1lly-corner]

Since it’s close to Christmas, (literally 1am Christmas Eve as I’m writing this), how about some Christmas themed X Reader headcanons or scenarios with some of our favorite circus performers?

You can write anyone you want, but i definitely want Caine to be there at least. I love that guy 🎄🥛🍪

-🪄

Happy holidayssssss

Christmas w/ some of the circus members

Mayhaps ill make a part two with the other characters.. that said I do have a TADC christmas post from last year with all of the cast!! Not sure how well it holds up but :3

Characters: caine, kinger, gangle, pomni

Notes: reader is gn, short post, general christmas shenanigans, haven't reread the aforementioned previous Christmas post so apologies if anything coincidentally repeats from last year LMAO

CWs: none

CAINE

bold of you to assume hes not going to send you all off on a christmas themed adventure for the day! in fact he probably starts leaning into the holiday themes the SECOND thanksgiving is done- assuming he even bothers to wait for that.. he might even try to lean into it as soon as halloween is done

REALLY leans into the festivities, constant christmas music in the circus and hes going to do some countdown... and god... the presents... he gives everyone a present but hes going to (poorly) hide that hes giving you extra presents- youre tooooooooootally not his favorite member in the circus- huh? why would anyone ever think that?

he snaps his fingers and in an instant everyone is given ugly sweaters

KINGER

he... likes the lights that caine puts up throughout the circus... theyre so colorful, and the blinking of them reminds him of something.... oh... were you saying something?

the storyteller, will go on and on and on about random stuff- not always christmas stories, but theres definitely some thrown in there!

convince him to make a massive pillow fort- no-! no pillow castle! oh nonono wait! pillow igloo! festive and comforting for him, he does still make sure to go out to interact with everyone else but he'd much rather stay inside his fort and spend time with you

...will come out for presents... and hes got something for you! no peeking until its time to open them up...!

GANGLE

jax tries to string her up on a christmas tree that caines put up for you guys- please help her down :(

she makes ornaments to pass the time when you guys arent sent out on an adventure, shes more than open to letting you sit down and join her! from paper ornaments to those cute little clay/plastic ones! shes got paint and other little things to help decorate!

sometimes the overall energy of the holiday can be a little... overwhelming... she tends to hang back in a quiet corner while everyone else goes out and celebrates- she doesnt hate christmas, its just sometimes it can be overwhelming... she... really appreciates you hanging back to spend time with her or generally making sure shes actually having fun

POMNI

her first christmas in the circus is... odd for her. she doesnt know how to feel about it already being christmas- the whole... passage of time and being made aware of how long shes been stuck here can put a damper on her mood but she knows there isnt anything she can do about escaping at the moment

and... with you around... you help keep her steady during the season- just enough to keep her cool until its over and she can go back to letting the time passing sink to the back of her mind... oh... you want her to help you make cookies...?

shes not much of a baker- but if you can help her and give her a recipe shes sure to make something thats at least edible- not that you guys need to eat in the circus... she never could get used to how the food tasted and felt in the digital world... it tastes... off... and has a faint sensation of licking a battery... but... its something

it keeps her hands and mind busy as she decorates them with you- and for the first time this season... she actually smiles, because of you

[onlytibki]

I think a Halloween filler episode for Dandadan would really go off

some really, really good thriller shit. gang having to hunt down a truly evil spirit, or some truly creepy aliens. Japanese horror type shit, y'know?

Seiko giving out FULL SIZED CANDY BARS to the kiddo trick or treaters and letting Turbo Granny go apeshit on teenage vandals

Mr. Mantis Shrimp takes Chiqitita trick or treating sans human costumes. Chiqitita LOVES Halloween and carves pumpkins for the shrine

Jiji, Aira, and Momo are invited to ALL the Halloween parties (maybe there's a big one at the school?) and bring Okarun even though he doesn't get an invite, because they've got to be at the party due to plot reasons

Jiji started out as a soccer player but he and Evil Eye became the worst sounding boards for each other for a costume and now no one knows what the fuck he's dressed as. There's silly string in his hair? and a whole bag of soccer balls wrapped around his shoulders.

Aira has a wholeass magical girl outfit. she 'defeats' Jiji (the monster) using glitter poppers and sheds glitter in a trail behind her wherever she goes

Taro and Hana are sent to be the teenagers' chaperones on a spiritually busy night but non-Dandagang high schoolers keep assuming Taro's a visiting college kid and asking him to buy alcohol. he and Hana end up getting PLASTERED.

they're sappy romantic drunks

Okarun: "I've always wanted to go to a Halloween party dressed up as an alien but now that I finally have friends to go with I've MET aliens and I'm worried dressing up as an alien might be prejudiced... so I'm going as a bedsheet ghost"

^ (racism concerns inspired from that one My Adventures with Superman fic)

Momo, already dressed up like a defeated, bruised and bloody Serpo with a sign reading ''I'm sorry 4 earth invasion 2xxx: fucked around and found out': "it's not prejudice if they tried to kill you first"

transformation shenanigans. Maybe the possessed kids are stuck in their yokai forms; maybe everyone's powers are a bit wonky; maybe when the full moon light hits them even regular people can see their otherworldliness

bully makes fun on Okarun's sheetghost costume, rips it off only to reveal Yokarun, fully visible due to Halloween magic - runs screaming while Yokarun stands there "what a bummer"

[silverzoomies]

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam. 

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.  

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time.  If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it. 

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips. 

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue. 

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below. 

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want. 

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red. 

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness. 

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization. 

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

[matchalovertrait]

It's been such a hectic day for these four! Ángel took Dulce's family out to explore Del Sol Valley, so nobody else has any idea about what has been happening after the court session ended.

Note: Guys, I've been working overtime to make this all come together 😭 Also, the story is moving at a snail's pace, but I wanted this to line up around Halloween time. The pacing should pick back up after the trial ends. I imagine we'll also see more gameplay posts instead of these more dialogue-heavy posts.

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

Previous | Next

Transcript

ANTONIO: Hurry, we’re already late.

DULCE: We’re 10 minutes early!

YOLTIC: The Beehive is closed! But for you two? I’ll always make an exception.

DANIELA: He’s leaving out how excited he is to dress you guys up.

ANTONIO: Still, thanks for doing this so suddenly. I’m still not sure why she insists on a “Professional Team-Building Costume-Test Montage”? We just need costumes with masks.

YOLTIC: Oh, lighten up a bit!

DULCE: Antonio was saying how Yoltic wouldn’t be up for this because “he doesn’t like shenanigans,” but Yoltic always complains about rude and snobby people.

DANIELA: Both are things that describe Caruso. Anyway, you can’t steal something that belongs to you, right?

DULCE: Exactly. Still, we need to take precautions.. I guess. And focus on things like “team-building.”

DANIELA: Luckily you know two geeky cosplayers who own a lot of clothes and costumes.

YOLTIC: Are you going to let me put some light makeup on you?

ANTONIO: Light. I don’t like having anything on my face.

YOLTIC: Can I pierce your ears?

ANTONIO: No. Dude, I’m a lawyer.

YOLTIC: Ugh, you’re ruining my visions.

DULCE: Any ideas on what we should dress up as?

DANIELA: A LOT! Vampires, mummies, pretty dolls...