#Tad Strange x Shifty

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Fiddleford and his McGucklings

Other Posts about Fiddleford: [0], [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

In Dimension-PJC311, or Jerk Ford's dimension, Dr. Fiddleford Hadron McGucket never glimpsed into the Nightmare Realm because Stanley was there acting as a safety during the portal test. He left shortly afterwards anyway, because he was sick of Jerk Ford's behaviour.

Going back home in Palo Alto to his wife and son, and using the knowledge he gained during the year of building the portal with Jerk Ford, he became his worlds version of Steve Jobs; a multibillionaire leading the tech industry. He and Emma-May had three more children over the years as well.

Around a decade ago, when their youngest was starting school, Fiddleford retired and left his company to his second oldest, as his oldest son Tate was not interested and wanted a more simple life.

The residents of Gravity Falls amusingly refer to Fiddlefords children as "(The) McGucklings".

Tate has not changed from canon much except he has a good relationship with Fiddleford (and his family as a whole). He is still a ranger at Lake Gravity Falls, running the fishing lodge. He is good friends with Thomas "Tad" Strange, and Tad's husband Fire Chief Doppelgänger.

His full name is Tater Dixon McGucket.

The second oldest is kind of like Shermie in the sense that they are never seen and only offhandedly acknowledged to even exist, and exclusively referred to as "Dos"; people assumed that it was because dos means two in Spanish, then it turned out that Dos' full first name was Dosido (as in Do-si-do). They are the current CEO of Fiddlefords company, which was rebranded from "Fiddleford Computermajigs" to "McGucket Labs".

Their(?) full name is Dosido Boson McGucket

The third oldest is none other than Melody. Being only 12 when her family moved to Gravity Falls from California, she was not a happy camper to go from an exciting fast-paced life to a quiet and sleepy one. That was until she meet Soos Ramirez when they were both enrolled in Gravity Falls Middle School, and he taught her that you don't need to live anywhere glamorous to enjoy excitement and whimsy. Unfortunately, Fiddleford is extremely protective of her, even as an adult, and he tends to act aggressive towards Soos even when his longtime friend, and Soos' father, Stanley Pines, tells him to back off.

Currently, Melody still lives in her families home but she is an IT student who attends a satellite campus of the Oregon Institute of Technology.

Her full name is Melody May McGucket.

The youngest is Lee, who in canon is part of Wendy's friend group. The baby of the family, he is very excitable but can sometimes try too hard to prove that just because he's the youngest doesn't mean he can't be responsible (he often fails). He and his best friend Nate often bother his older brother Tate in his place of work. And like Fiddleford, he has the tendency to be hostile towards Soos because of his relationship with Melody (but not nearly as much). So what if he's younger, that's still his sister!

Lee's blond hair is not dyed; Fiddleford and Melody's hair started out as bright blonde but progressively got darker as they grew up, and Lee is projected to not be any different.

His full name is Leeland* Fermion McGucket

*There is a high possibility that Lee was named in honour of Stanley, who despite everything is and has been really good friends with Fiddleford since college.

[lucianinsanity-only-art]

Stan showing off his husband and more

Tad Strange from @void-dude AU

[ID in Alt text]

[spirit-of-the-void]

Echo Chamber (Vergil x Reader) Chapter Two

Author’s notes: Sorry this came out so late--my laptop is having issues. But alas! We’re finally moving on to actually meeting Vergil, in which our reader feels a bit of gremlin activate.

Chapter Two

Why am I doing this? Why am I still going here?

The drive to Capulet was an hour long, not nearly enough time for you to get through all the thoughts and doubts banging around your poor cranium. Driving used to be cathartic, damn it. Something done to relax, to free oneself from troubles and worries in the pounding bass of the car’s stereo and through the wind flowing from open windows. Sadly, doing the former stopped being an option after the incident with your leg. Music didn’t provide relief anymore, only serving to make you feel lonely and nostalgic in ways that brought all the memories back. Which sucked, because listening to music used to be the best coping mechanism, one that made you so happy and free. It was why the band had been formed in the first place, why learning to play a guitar freed you from so much stress.

But silence had its own downsides. It left your apprehension free to dig in roots, watered by empty space between the sounds of the engine running and  wind gusting through open windows. Thoughts of where you were going, and with what purpose in mind left you growing steadily more anxious as the drive lasted on. That hour felt both like an eternity and far less time than needed, which left you feeling even more dazed about the whole situation. Was this really the best idea, coming to this place to meet absolute strangers in some jaded attempt to suffocate your own trauma? To bring inspiration and motivation back? It seemed so logical when Kraven said it, but now you were having doubts considering just how far-fetched it sounded. Maybe turning around was the proper thing to do, maybe continuing therapy would help in its own time. 

Problem was you didn’t want to disappoint your band members anymore.

They were being so patient, so caring. How many different scenarios had you turned down in this similar way? Getting to the midpoint of the process before turning tail and running back to the safety of your home. Too uncertain, too afraid. You were sick of crawling back into bed, heart aching and prosthetic feeling like a heavier and heavier weight when it was removed every night. If this followed through, if you managed to make it to this place and talk to the devil hunters working there...well, even when nothing came about it then at least you could say an attempt was made. It felt less like going to accept a job offer and more like scouting out some strange, mysterious unknown that promised to be the key to all the solutions. Strange, especially since it definitely wasn’t.

Anyway.

Before long you were turning off the interstate onto side streets, buildings rising up on either side. This part of town was far more Gothic in design, less of the modern housing from your neck of the woods. Many abandoned shop fronts passed by your car, houses that definitely didn’t look lived in for quite a few years. Yikes, this was a bit shifty. Capulet wasn’t very well known all things considered, one of the numerous towns either ravaged by poverty or demons themselves several years ago. Upside was that the rent on a lot of these buildings was dirt cheap, downside was that practically no one wanted to move into places of this caliber. Minus Devil May Cry itself, obviously.

You knew right away when the building approached, the bright red neon sign a far cry from everything else around it. There was plenty of parking space considering how very little people lived in the area, your car coming to a slow halt right in front of the store and settling while you tried to calm down. Engine off, deep breaths taken--you could do this, right? This was definitely the place, as off-putting and strange it appeared to be. Honestly, what was to be expected from the devil hunting headquarters? A church? Normal house? An office building? There was no handbook for this sort of thing, and you made the mistake of setting up expectations in the first place. 

Regardless, you tried to swallow down the hesitation and worry in a desperate attempt to build yourself up. Kraven had expectations for you, they all did. And each moment you waited was another moment everyone’s carriers were forced to stay on hold. Interests would wane, fan support would eventually fade with time if you weren’t careful. And with the popularity of Eidolon’s Fall being on the rise at the time...this setback needed to be taken care of, and fast. Your hesitations be damned, this wasn’t happening anymore.

You just wished your dumb head would listen.

Self-deprecation isn’t helping, The reminder felt firm despite the glum thoughts, your hand reaching for the door handle and popping it open with a firm click, Time to wake up and face the music, kitten. This is meant to help me, remember?

You kept trying to tell yourself that as you left the solace of your vehicle, one hand gripped tightly on the cell phone and the other a fist at your side. Baby steps--only way to go is forward, right? Would be easier if that particular limb wasn’t so god damn heavy. You winced as your weight settled on it, looking down briefly after shutting the door to make sure it wasn’t obvious that it was a prosthetic. Between the boots, leggings, and the length of your jacket...your legs looked downright normal. My legs ARE normal, you corrected yourself, frowning at the train of thought and feeling a bit disappointed at its course, losing a leg doesn’t make me strange in the slightest, it doesn’t make me different. 

That was the truth, you knew it well.

The doubt managed to be swallowed down a little bit, your heart thudding quietly against your ribs as you locked the doors on your vehicle. Shifty neighborhood, fairly okay car--no chances taken. No offense to Devil May Cry of course, you just didn’t really want to risk losing anything inside, like the various CDs or essentials that were kept in the back seat in case of emergencies.

Regardless, you managed to pry yourself away from the symbol of familiarity, feet dragging as you approached the double doors of the building itself. The sun was still out, half obscured by clouds that seemed to hint at a storm coming later, which wasn’t a surprise--your phone had long alerted you to the potential weather threat, so this definitely wasn’t a bad omen. Screw that, you didn’t fall into such silly superstitions, especially not when some of your best days happened during storms. Weather brought forth so much inspiration, after all.

At least...it used to. 

You sighed, stepping up to the doors and pausing as you debated whether to knock or not. Was this the kind of establishment that one could just stroll into? What if you did and caught someone in a situation that wasn’t yours to see? Christ, your head just would not settle down at all, playing through every bad scenario and making you want to turn and walk back to the car. You were never like this before, never full of so much hesitation and worry. Just knock and get it over with, the worst you’ll get it embarrassment. You can live with that, right? Seemed easy enough, and once upon a time it would have been.

There was faint music playing within, someone was definitely home. You swallowed, raising the hand that wasn’t holding your phone and rapping it firmly on one of the double doors. 

There was an audible sound of someone moving inside, the music quieting down a bit. A brief pause filled the air, making you a tad bit more nervous before a voice called from within.

“Come on in…!”

Well, there was some relief. You let out a large gust of air, steeling your nerves a bit more before gripping the door handles and pulling them open. Forward and steady, you reminded yourself, staring around warily as you entered the new area with a hint of curiosity mingling in the mix. This place was definitely not what you expected, not by a longshot. Nor was the person waiting inside, sitting at a messy desk with his feet kicked up in a tell-tale posture of laziness. It certainly didn’t look like the business of a demon hunter, nor did he seem like one himself--the whole space was on the messier side, pizza boxes stacked on the floor near the desk and items scattered here and there. Any semblance of order seemed incredibly lacking, a thin layer of dust visible on the floor as you let the doors close at your back. 

You blinked owlishly, meeting the gaze of the apparent demon hunter as he stared with a hint of surprise. It was pretty clear you weren’t what he was expecting, but then again your own expectations weren’t met either. A far cry from priests or what your mind had conjured, this man looked a bit rugged, wearing a black shirt covered by a red leather jacket with black jeans. Unshaven, hair a bit tousled but face handsome nonetheless.

Hell, the vibe he carried reminded you of some of the older musicians you had met while touring--like a rugged metal guitarist, one with a lazy smirk on his lips and an air of non-commitment as he sat up to eye you curiously in the doorway. You straightened up, shoulders firmly squared and heart hammering lightly at the fear of the unknown as you struggled to find anything to say in greeting.

Luckily, he picked up the slack. Head tilted to the side a bit, mouth quirking up in a grin as he said in a friendly tone, “Hey there--how can I help you, sweetheart?”

His casual use of things like sweetheart made you a bit wary, but he didn’t seem to mean it in a condescending or creepy way. There was a comforting note in his expression, like he could sense how nervous you were to be there in the first place. Which wasn’t shocking, you were frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“U..um…” You cleared your throat, taking a few measured steps forward and trying to find your sense of manners again. This was a business, and you were setting up to be a bad first impression, “I saw an ad in the paper for secretary work, so...I came to ask about it, if that’s okay?” 

Could have called first, but you were afraid doing so would throw off the burst of confidence it took to get here.

Regardless, the stranger didn’t seem bothered. Merely surprised, mouth popping open and brows threatening to touch his hairline as he took in your words. It confirmed your suspicions a bit--that was the face of a man who didn’t really expect anyone to answer the request of said ad, and it showed plain and clear. Something about that was kind of funny, and a bit concerning all things considered--why put it in the paper if they weren’t expecting someone to apply for the position? Then again...working for a demon hunting company did seem a bit far fetched, not to mention the risks that would come with it.

“Really?” He asked incredulously, scratching the back of his white-haired head as the chain underneath him squeaked a bit, “Well...huh. Damn. Uh--” The man stood up, grunting when the motion made a few of his joints pop in protest. It didn’t take much to guess that he must have been sitting there for a while. You watched warily as he started rummaging around the desk, looking for items unknown while continuing on, “Didn’t really think anyone would show up to be completely honest. You got any prior secretary experience?”

Cutting right to the chase? Was this an interview? You shifted in place a bit, fingers tapping rhythmically on the back of your phone as you hedged, “Uh...Technically? Not in an official capacity, but I learned how to organize files when taking care of my Grandmother’s legal affairs after her passing.” 

And when the band was still starting out, you handled all the legal funds with Kraven’s help until Mathius was hired on. But this stranger didn’t need to know that yet.

He released a little “huh” at your response, shrugging his shoulders as he pulled out a file from a drawer. There was a thoughtful expression on his face for a brief moment, like the white-haired man was deep in thought before a grin spread across his lips.

“Good enough for me--you’re hired.”

...What?

Shock could not have been any more obvious in your expression, mouth popping open and eyes staring at him in absolute disbelief. Did he just hire you on the spot, with barely any information given and no paperwork? Your idiot brain left behind anything a normal job might need to even fill out an application, maybe on purpose if you were being completely honest. Hell, he didn’t even ask you name and was already declaring that the job was yours to have. Were you hallucinating, or had that really happened?

Your mind completely scrambled, leaving you floundering for a decent response but not managing a single one at all. Honestly, there was nothing to base this scenario on, no other job you had over the years being gained in such an easy, bizarre way. You had been prepared to come here, maybe chat a bit, be turned away after having no references and no papers, but...no such luck.

This was so fucking weird. The man didn’t seemed phased by your shock and lack of response, turning away and starting to pull out files from random locations to set them on his desk. The lack of organization was almost disgusting, papers strewn about and things littering the table top in a messy manner. You needed to get yourself together, he clearly had a game plan already in mind while you were lacking in several bits of information. There were so many questions, so many things you needed to say after him just hiring you on like that, but your tongue felt glued to the roof of your mouth.

“U..um…!” You stammered, hurrying up to the desk and clearing your throat meaningfully, “E...excuse me, but are you sure…? You never even asked my name--Hell, I didn’t bring any paperwork with me, no references…!”

Your inquiries didn’t phase him, summoning forth another shrug of his broad shoulders as his calm eyes turned to meet yours.

“What’s your name, kid?” He sounded amused, like he was asking the question just to appease you in some strange way. There was a hint of mischief in his eyes, one that you weren’t sure made you uneasy or not yet.

Regardless, you bit down the exasperation, tone a bit confused as you replied dutifully, “M...my name is Y/N.”

“Good,” He smirked, extending a hand over his desk to shake yours in greeting, “You can call me Dante, I started this humble little establishment myself so I guess that makes me your boss. As long as you don’t mind being paid under the table, paperwork shouldn’t be an issue.”

Wow, this was all very shocking. You shook his hand in a daze, his grasp warm and firm before he turned away again. Dante, the founder of Devil May Cry--he was definitely bizarre. Paying you under the table was just an added oddity, especially with how cut and dry the whole scenario had been. Most companies wanted a paper trail, wanted to do background checks to make sure that they weren’t hiring a criminal or something like that. Such things clearly didn’t extend to Dante, the white-haired male going about his task like it was no big deal. Kraven was absolutely going to lose his mind when you told him about this, that was for sure.

“Th...that’s no issue,” You replied meekly, holding your phone to your chest and trailing behind him a bit as he moved about the room, “Um...Are you sure this is okay? To just hire me on the spot like this? It’s just a bit shocking, is all, you barely asked me questions and I...um…”

Why were you contesting this so heavily? This was a job you acquired with little to no effort. Most people would kill for such an easy opportunity. 

But you had a job--the issue now was breaking past the trauma that kept you from it.

Dante let out a little hum at your question, turning that charming smile on you again as he chuckled, “Trust me kid, in this kind of business you learn not to ask questions,” The man sized you up for a moment, leaning lazily against the front of his desk and stroking the stubble on his chin, “Like why a lovely lady such as yourself would want to work as the secretary for a demon hunting company in the first place, right? Just as long as the work gets done I don’t really mind, my brother is the one who insisted we hire someone to get things more organized in the first place.”

Brother? There was another person like him here? 

You paused at his words, feeling a bit fidgety again as his gaze held yours for a moment. What he said confirmed what the article had claimed, what everything had mentioned about Devil May Cry in general--this was in fact a demon hunting business, which was absolutely bizarre in its own right. Not to mention his inquiry about you, and what made you want to take the job in the first place. It hadn’t been apparent before that such a thing would be strange or suspicious, but in retrospect...yeah. Yeah it was. There were plenty other places that were far more normal and less dangerous looking for work, yet here you were with your own agenda in mind. It almost made you feel guilty, like all of this was under false pretenses.

But you had come this far, and you couldn’t very well turn back. Nor could you tell him the truth of the matter, the truth lodging in your throat like barbs and refusing to move.

Instead you let out a light sigh, rubbing your arm idly as you mumbled in reply, “I see...Well, I do have my reasons but...they’re a bit personal. I swear I’m here to work hard, I just...” You hesitated, eyes raising to meet his again as you continued softly, “Do you... really hunt demons…?”

Your question seemed a bit perplexing to him, if not amusing. One of those white eyebrows raised again, arms crossed over his broad chest in a display of bulging muscles. You know, for someone who seemed to consist only on a diet of pizza--based on the numerous boxes on the floor--he was surprisingly fit. It did  make sense that he would be physically proactive if it meant fighting creatures of the night and otherwise. And judging by his age, Dante must have been at this gig for a long time. Underneath all that lazy energy was a sense of tiredness, one that touched his eyes and the wrinkles around them. What kind of hardships came with a job like this? How long had he spent fighting demon kind?

Dante let out a low hum at your question, reaching into the drawer of his desk to pull out twin pistols for your view. Honestly, you had never touched a gun in your life, the closest encounter to one being the weapons cops and military used during the concert attack. Seeing some now felt strange, especially with how fancy these particular pistols were. Black and white, fairly big in size and custom made if your eyes were certain. It was almost...beautiful, even to someone who wasn’t particularly impressed with firearms and knew practically nothing about them. There were images engraved on the handles, showing the cameos of beautiful women.

“Demons in the flesh,” He confirmed, palming the white pistol a bit and holding it out for your inspection. Hesitation filled your expression, one hand reaching out to gingerly clasp the weapon and feel its weight. The words for Tony Redgrave were engraved on the side, the gun looking a bit old fashioned all things considered, “She’s put lead in the skulls of more monsters than I can count, for many many years.”

You released an inquisitive huff of air, hurrying to hand the weapon back for fear of touching anything that should set it off. Your knee-jerk reaction made Dante chuckle, sticking the guns into holsters behind his coat and settling back once more.

“Not much of a fighter, are ya?” He observed, pushing off from the desk and heading back around to another pile of files.

Something about that way he said that made you bristle a little internally, head raised high as you replied, “Depends on what the fight is. I may not know how to shoot a gun, but I’m not the lie down and take it type either.” You had been through hell and back, fighting tooth and nail to get your life back to normal. That had to count for something.

I’m not down for the count yet.

Dante nodded once at that, seeming impressed by your firm tone and determination, “Ain’t that the truth--regardless, maybe I’ll teach you how to fire a gun sometime.” He set down another stack, finally satisfied by his own efforts before walking by and patting you on the shoulder, “Hope you’re ready to get started ‘cause I’ve got a few errands to run.”

Oh no, the shock was back again. You stared at him incredulously, mind blanking out as he started to head for the door. Was he being serious? The devil hunter expected you to start now, and worse he was just going to leave you here alone after knowing you for less than ten minutes? It sent your head spinning, mouth open and various sounds of disbelief pouring out as you managed to grab him by the sleeve of his jacket to halt the departure. You hadn’t even been planning on getting the job, and now it was apparently your first day? What order did he want the files in? And where did he want you to put them? So many questions, too many questions.

“Wait!” You protested, meeting his calm gaze as it turned to meet yours, “You’re starting me out already? And just leaving me in your place alone?” Are you insane? Was implied at the end of that sentence, but not spoken aloud.

It didn’t need to be--judging by the smirk the white-haired man wore, he knew damn well what you meant.

“Unless you have prior engagements, yeah,” Dante quirked his brow, side-eyeing you as your expression blanked. There was literally nothing else on your schedule, and he somehow picked up on that right away, “I don’t mind you getting a feel for the place by yourself--the doors will be locked while I’m out so it’ll just be you, kiddo.”

Are you kidding me?

You decided that the nickname “kiddo” was even worse than sweetheart, and far more annoying. But there was no time to complain about it, especially when Dante seemed hellbent on leaving. I was maddening, head refusing to conjure up any viable excuses to counter his words, not in its frazzled state. And to be quite honest anything that could be thought of would be an outright lie, you had zero prior plans and had spent a good majority of your time in the house moping. Well, outside of Kraven, Boris, and Celine forcing you places for events, or hanging out at Kraven’s house for funsies. To be completely honest, this was the longest time you spent not in the house in a very...very long time.

So you blanked again, fingers slipping from Dante’s jacket as you managed meekly, “Is there...any order you want the files put in…?”

Christ, I’m becoming a pushover.

And Dante knew it. A grin tilted his lips, eyes alight with mirth as he said in a lazy reply, “Eh...by date I guess? Whichever way you want to is fine by me.”

With that, he started forward again, hands pushing open the double doors as he left you standing in the foyer in a state of confusion. The white haired man turned partially, giving you a two finger salute before slipping his way outside.

“Good luck, kid. I’ll be back soon--hold down the fort for me, will ya?”

With that, the double doors closed behind him with a solid thud, accompanied by a loud click as he locked them. Suddenly alone, terribly so in an unfamiliar place, unfamiliar neighborhood, unfamiliar territory. You were still rooted to the spot, heart pounding in your chest as the silence stretched on for a solid minute after his quick departure. Flabbergasted didn’t quite cover it, disbelieving didn’t either. Meeting Dante was like meeting a very lazy hurricane, one that seemed calm and chill at first glance before sending one rolling and tumbling in its raging winds. You were still dazed from the encounter, the whiplash of it making you plop down on the floor in that spot and hold your head forlornly. Christ, Christ--what had you gotten yourself into? This place was bigger than expected, and now eerily quiet to boot with you sitting there alone.

At least...you hoped that was the case. No one else lived here, did they? He did mention a brother, but gave no indication on whether or not said brother was home other than saying that it was “Just you”. God damn, if he was anything like Dante you were in for a bad time, the man was a bit much to handle at moments. You released a hefty groan, hands running up your cheeks and carding through your silken locks as you tried to gather the thoughts back together. Well, this mess was yours to handle--a change had come, and all you could do was roll with it. Everything else in your life had been that way, so why not this too? All the strange circumstances aside, the files lined the desk and floor in unceremonious heaps, no order involved.  Best thing you could do was get started.

“I’m an idiot,” Your voice sounded so loud in the quiet space, despite how loud the statement was murmured. You stood up, groaning at the renewed weight on your prosthetic as it carried you to the desk where most of the mess lie in weight, “Kraven is not gonna believe this.”

You checked the time on your phone, debating calling the supportive male to tell him about the entire encounter but thinking otherwise when the time came into view. He and Boris would be going to the Zoo about now, so maybe a text would suffice. You sat down in Dante’s chair, wincing when it squeaked loudly in protest. Old, rickety, definitely in need of a replacement--It was paid no mind, your thoughts focusing on the gentle tap of fingers as you typed out a very carefully worded message to Kraven, because any wrong things said might spurn the vocalist to call you despite his date. And that was definitely not what you wanted.

“Made it there okay, big boy. I uh...I already got the job, apparently. It’s a bit wild--I’ll tell you about it later. Smooches.” 

You felt satisfied enough with what was typed out, setting the device down on your desk and eyeing the stacks of paper awaiting you. There was certainly a lot to do, and by the looks of it there was no good place to start it. Dante did not seem the type to have a system of any kind, so there was bound to be inconsistencies. Which was only proven correct when you lifted a file, reading the writing scribbled on the front before appearing at another. One was dated--the other was not. Another had locations, others didn’t. A growing sense of exasperation started to temper your already confused thoughts, adding in a layer of anxiety as the files started to be spread out one after the other. Honestly you knew Dante for less than an hour and you already wanted to shake him a bit.

Son of a bitch. 

“I am filled with regrets, captain.” You muttered to no one in particular, shrugging off your jacket before sliding down onto the floor to lay out files. Your eyes scanned the surrounding space, annoyance spiking at the mess that littered the wooden floor. Okay, first things first--the pizza boxes and dust had to go. The files were a seemingly impossible task at the moment, so despite not being a cleaning lady you didn’t mind straightening up the space a bit to ease the stress of what was going on.

You stood back up, looking around and wondering just where the hell Dante would keep a broom, if he even owned one. Not likely. 

This man is a goblin.

Your search took you through the lower floor, an impromptu tour that you didn’t necessarily expect to have. The main area lead back into what appeared to be a small living room and hallway, a leather couch resting against a far wall across from a television. You noticed right away how basic everything seemed, lacking in any personal or family photos. A shelf held some strange knickknacks, but they were foreign to you entirely. Even the hallway walls didn’t wear anything minus a couple posters--one of a scantily clad woman, and an old rock band. You recognized them--they were before your time, but their music was fairly nice. They were paid barely any mind on your way to the kitchen, a sigh of relief leaving your lips at the sight of a broom cupboard on the far wall. 

This room was also a bit of a mess, but you weren’t touching that quite yet. Dante’s diet of pizza was growing more and more likely, much to your consistent dismay and heavy disgust. You tried to ignore it, making your way to the cupboard and praying to every known god and goddess that the absolute disaster of a man owned cleaning supplies of any kind--which, luckily, he did. Inside the little, dusty room was a small vacuum and broom, shelves lined with full bottles of cleansers that didn’t look touched at all. It made sense--someone must have bought these with cleaning in mind but fell short of the actual task, whether that was Dante or not you weren’t sure. Regardless, what was needed got taken and the rest was left in case of future uses.

“Captains log, day thirty seven,” You said to yourself, setting about the task with vigor and starting to collect any garbage found into a trash bag, “My hubris has finally led to my downfall, and now I’m a cleaning lady.”

I’m also a bit crazier than I thought.

There was, obviously, no one to answer. But it made you feel better, damn it.

Time started passing quickly as you cleaned, straightening anything your hands could find and dusting every available surface. The repetitive tasks left time for wandering thoughts, but held enough attention to make sure things didn’t go off the rails too badly. Most of them collected around your new boss, wondering what kind of person he was and how many years were spent demon hunting. The occasional weapon hung on the walls on plaques, either things Dante once used himself or items acquired from various jobs. Between that and the neon signs, the room started to actually have a nice vibe when it grew cleaner and cleaner. The atmosphere reminded you of a bar, or various band hangouts that had been bounced between over the years of playing and touring.

There was something very cathartic about cleaning a very messy space, a deep sense of satisfaction filling you after the last swish of a mop traveled over hardwood. You pulled your hair into a ponytail at some point,  making your way across the room bit by bit.The files were safely stacked on top of the two filing cabinets and the now-clean desk, waiting as the next hurdle for you to get over. It would have to stew for a bit, at least until the floors dried and the garbage bags were dragged away. You set about that next, peering around for any place to leave the bags that wouldn’t inconvenience anyone--the kitchen was the only safe place, bags placed in the broom cupboard and a reminder set on your phone to tell Dante about it. The following half hour was spent tidying up the kitchen and small living room, another two bags added to the mix and rooms much cleaner than they were before.

I can’t believe I came here, applied for a secretary job, and ended up cleaning their business. Not that you minded--this was your choice, after all. Plus there was nothing really terrible about cleaning, it was just...relaxing. The exercise felt good on your legs, the prosthetic feeling a bit too warm at times but there would be time to air it out later. The sensation was nice, akin to ripping off your bra after wearing it all day in the heat. It was the one thing you promised yourself upon starting back toward the first area you cleaned, intending to check on the wet floors and see how they fared.

But before you could return to the clean room, a clicking sound rang out through the hallway, alerting you to someone opening the main doors to Devil May Cry. You paused in the living room, worrying for a moment that Dante may have returned to see you made zero progress on the files, but impulse cleaned his house. It hardly mattered, but it was still a worry, one that grew as you hurried into the main room to see who had entered through the double doors. But much to your sudden anxiety, a low voice was muttering before you reached the doorway, one that definitely wasn’t the devil hunter from before. Low, a bit more nasal and sharper in tone--it was released in a low, disbelieving growl that still managed to reach your ears despite how quiet it was.

“What the hell happened in here?”

His tone was incredulous, absolutely disbelieving. Honestly? You couldn’t blame him.

Reaching the doorway, you paused and stared at his face, nervousness spiking considerably as you took in the newcomer with fascinated eyes. He was tall, just as tall as Dante and carrying an aura far more intimidating--this had to be his brother, there was no doubting that silvery hair, eyes a cold blue that was a bit closer to grey and face handsome in a sharp, defined way. They definitely had good genes, that was for sure. You weren’t oblivious to the beauty of your fellow human beings, but it rarely made you stop and try to collect yourself in their presence. Maybe it was the air of hostility this stranger carried? Or perhaps it was the sword attached to his hip, clothing dark and definitely not your average everyday outfit.

A sharp jacket hugged his frame, a lined vest underneath and dark slacks on his legs. Formal wasn’t quite the word to describe it, but he was definitely dressed imposingly to Dante’s laid back jeans and leather jacket. Clean shaven too, less like a goblin and more like seeing a predator walk into the room and bringing that sense of danger with him. Speaking of danger--his eyes snapped up at the sound of your footsteps, meeting your startled gaze in the doorway with not a spec of recognition, which was normal considering he never met you before. You froze instantly, unsure of what to do or say considering that you were a stranger in his home. Dante definitely wasn’t the type to call ahead and warn him, that was glaringly obvious. This man was definitely more on edge than his brother, fingers twitching to the hilt of his sword in an instant and confirming that you needed to do something before he attacked.

Just typical of my luck.

“U...um…” You managed to get out, clasping your hands in front of you in a show of non-violence as you continued quietly, “Y...you must be Dante’s brother--”

“Who are you?” His biting hiss cut you off, your shoulders jolting when the words seemed to whip across the room like a javelin, “What are you doing here?”

You were getting to that, before he interrupted. Christ, today was shaping up to be a doozy.

A sigh left your lips, last hints of patience waning and body slumping against the doorway a bit as you replied in exasperation, “My name is Y/N--Dante hired me as a secretary, so that’s why I’m here. But I spent some time cleaning first so I could have space to lay out the files, especially since they have no rhyme or reason to them.”

The growing annoyance in your voice was apparent, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, a scowl marred his already frowning lips, hand slowly releasing the sword’s hilt much to your relief. Well, that was one hurdle past. It would be a lot easier to talk without the threat of death looming overhead.

“Secretary?” He growled incredulously, narrowing those chilly eyes on you and sounding very impatient, “I was never informed of this--when were you hired?”

“....Today.” It didn’t sound true even to your ears, but the exhaustion in your tone definitely gave away just how tiring the interactions with Dante had been. He was a man best experienced in doses, at least in your opinion. 

This didn’t seem to be the answer his brother wanted, that scowl growing into a look of pure irritability as he pinched the bridge of his nose. As if the action would somehow bring forth patience, or the return of sanity in some form or another. You shifted anxiously in the doorway, eyeing the floor underfoot to make sure it was dry--this newcomer was walking all over it, but his shoes seemed clean enough. Now all that was left to do was those files, which you were anxious to return to if the chance was given. But something about Dante’s brother made you wary of sudden movements, he was way too twitchy with that Katana on his hip.

“Let me see if I’m correct,” The man growled, tone thick was annoyance and aggravation as he leveled his cold eyes on you again, “My brother hired you today, with no prior interviews to my knowledge. Left you here in the building alone with our possessions, and then proceeded with his job for the day without informing me of a single thing.”

Something about the way he spoke of you was very offensive, like you were already labeled as a petty thief in his eyes. That certainly would not fly despite how correct all his words were, and now validating it was to know that someone else found it all equally ridiculous.

You crossed your arms, one hip jutting out slightly as you protested, “I would never steal something…!” Your tone made his eyes snap back to your face, a flicker of surprise in those cold eyes as you continued, “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get back to work.”

It was only then did you approach the files stacked on the desk, deciding to ignore his presence after such a blatant implication was thrown your way. You couldn’t decide who was the better brother, this one or Dante, but it scarcely mattered. He kept his eyes trained on you, watching your form settle on the now-clean floor and start pulling down stack upon stack of sealed paper. Something about your actions seemed very strange to him, a look of disbelief making its home in his fierce expression. It was a shame that he was so rude--a pretty boy like that could definitely get through the world on modeling alone, or if he had any music talent girls and boys alike would fawn all over his fierce type.

You shook off the thought, trying to find some semblance of order within the files and failing to find a single one. Christ, the need and want to shake Dante was growing with every passing second. How did this place even begin to fare as a business with no semblance of order at all? The incident of the Qliphoth must have forced Dante’s hand a bit--you were willing to bet they could slide on buy on freelance work before then, but now that the government was involved a paper trail was a thing of necessity.

Much to your growing confusion, Vergil did not move from the doorway, continuing to watch you with a frown marring his lips. You did not meet his gaze, just watching out of the corners of your eyes and wondering just what the hell he wanted. This was all growing so very tiring, your leg overly warm and achy from walking around a couple hours. If this persisted much longer, you were going to lose every semblance of sanity and maybe get yourself killed. But before either of you could say anything, the doors behind him swung open again--part of you hoped it would be Dante returning, but two more strangers walked through the door instead.

A man and a woman this time--both complete strangers to you. Dante didn’t warn of them stopping by, but they seemed familiar with this place and with the man who previously insulted you.

Oh dear.

“Afternoon, Vergil,” Greeted an older, dark-skinned male, tipping his hat lightly in the brother’s direction in a less-than-friendly manner. He had a cigar between his lips, wearing a snazzy suit and seeming unimpressed by Vergil’s impressive scowl, “Glad to see you’re cheerful as always.”

Vergil didn’t reply, interrupted by the woman standing in the doorway before any words could leave his mouth. It occurred to you then that she was staring at you, her irises meeting your worried ones for a brief moment across the open space. They were pretty--one green and one red. She herself was very beautiful, wearing a cute outfit of shorts and a blouse with thigh high boots--Dark hair, pale skin. Fair. She looked surprised to see you sitting there cross-legged, and even more so when her eyes traveled around the spotless room with complete disbelief. You couldn’t blame her for that.

“Who are you?” She asked, causing the two men to look at you now. Having all the attention in the room on your person wasn’t unfamiliar, but it still somehow made you nervous, “And what the fuck happened in here? I’ve never seen this place so...livable.”

Before you could muster a coherent reply, the dark-skinned man let out a light chuckle, walking toward you and extending a hand to help you up from the floor. It was accepted easily, your form rising up and jolts popping slightly with the motion.

The man’s words made you relax considerable, the only one there who seemed to have any semblance of knowledge, “Ahh, you must be the new secretary--Dante called to inform me of your presence,” He looked around the room as well, seeming impressed and wearing a bemused grin, “You’re a miracle worker, I can’t imagine having the patience to touch this nasty place.”

Vergil scowled again at his words, aggravation flashing in those cold orbs as he was met with the realization that Dante made sure to warn this man, but not him. Why that was the case, you would never know.

Regardless.

“To be honest, cleaning it was a blur and I barely remember it,” You replied with a weak laugh, the day’s exhaustion catching up now that there seemed to be someone who was actually informed of the situation, “My name is Y/N, by the way...I did mean to organize the files first, but...they’re just a mess.”

“Morrison, pleasure to make your acquaintance” The man, now dubbed Morrison, replied with a look of pure pity at your situation. This was definitely a human being well used to Dante’s bullshit by now, “How about Lady and I give you a hand? I usually find Dante all of his work, and she’s helped out on several of them.”

You paused, meeting her curious eyes again and hesitating. This was meant to be your job, right? Maybe it was wrong to drag other people into it, especially considering the fact that they just got here. 

But she seemed to read the guilt on your face, planting a hand on her hip and releasing a light sigh into the clean-smelling air, “Whatever, fine by me,” Much to your relief, she managed a friendly smile, winking her red eye at you as she added, “Nothing more fun than a group effort, right? We can chat a bit while we wait for that dumbass to return.”

Your shoulders relaxed considerably, heart pounding against your ribs in the remaining throes of anxiety in worry. Thank god there was finally a jumping off point for all this paper--you honestly didn’t know how to manage without the help of obvious professionals. Morrison pat you once on the back, chuckling lightly as he strolled toward Dante’s chair sitting in front of two stacks, a cloud of cigar smoke following in his wake. Lady met your gaze again, seeming very interested in you for whatever reason. Maybe it was the fact that you managed to clean up the main room of Devil May Cry, or maybe there wasn’t a lot of girls usually working here? Whatever the reason, a couple friendly faces was nice after the scare that came from Vergil moments prior.

Speaking of Dante’s brother, the surly man stalked past you on his way out of the room, sparing no passing glance in his retreat. You found yourself watching as he went, eyes lingering on the way the devil hunter moved--so strange, precise in every motion and fluid like a predator. His shoulder muscles shifted and moved under his jacket, tense even as he disappeared up the only flight of stairs with practically no sound. Christ, had you ever met someone so wound up in your life? There was something about him that made you sad, like staring at a creature who didn’t have the chance to relax in his life. Something about it made you really interested in picking him apart, bit by bit. To see what was underneath all that prickly exterior, if Vergil was even capable of relaxation.

It looks like those lips never smiled in their life.

But something about that...makes me very interested in taking on a challenge.

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[floralseokjin]

A series of hook ups with Kim Seokjin, the college’s biggest fuckboy…

↳  the index [ bonus #2 the movie theatre ]

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; smut wordcount; 1,978

“Shush,” Seokjin hissed, sounding for once genuinely annoyed. 

Maybe you’d sighed one too many times for his liking, but you were seriously regretting agreeing to be his plus one to the movie theatre. You’d gone reluctantly at that, only because you were a little dubious, but after he’d promised it was nothing like a date – his friend had cancelled on him so he had a spare ticket – and begged for this one favour, telling you he’d owe you because he didn’t want to look like an idiot watching a movie by himself, you’d agreed. 

His favour in return would be happening very soon, so that had sweetened the deal, if just a tad. (He was going to go down on you twice tonight. Success!) However, it was looking like no amount of sweet, sticky orgasms were going save you from this shit fest. You didn’t even know what movie you were watching, although you recognised some of the actors. 

“This is boring,” you whined, unsure if you had it in you to keep your voice to a whisper. 

Maybe if you were loud and annoying enough you’d get kicked out... Heaven! 

“It’s not,” he insisted, whispering furiously.  “Now shut the fuck up and pay attention.” 

There was only one thing to do: pout. You didn’t want to pay attention, you’d been sat here for near an hour already, bored out of your goddamn mind. 

Seokjin side eyed you, noticing your gaze was cast down towards your lap, arms crossed like petulant child. “Or not, I don’t care. As long as you’re quiet.”  

You rolled your eyes, huffing loudly, and he nudged your knee with his, silently warning you. This was not how you wanted your night to go. When you’d messaged him to see if he was busy you wanted the answer to be no. You wanted to go around his place and fuck, not go out in goddamn public to see a movie you had no clue about. You were positive people were mistaking you for a couple. How repulsive... 

Your gaze shifted to Seokjin again once you realised he wasn’t giving you any more attention, watching him sullenly. He looked so deep into this movie and you couldn’t care less. 

Fuck it. 

Go and get what you want, that was what your parents had always told you – although they probably didn’t mean quite like this… 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Seokjin asked immediately, body stiffening as he felt you palm his dick. 

You always knew what side to go for. Left. He always tucked it to the left, and you squeezed at the soft flesh before rubbing your hand back and forth, desperate to get him hard. It was a fool proof plan, you knew it. Sometimes all you had to do was look at his dick and it got hard… 

“I’m bored,” you pouted, stuck like a broken record. 

He sighed but it was slightly shaky, his resolve crumbling instantly. He still tried though. “Quit it, we’re in a movie theatre.”

Despite his words, he made no attempt to remove your hand, and if you weren’t mistaken you could feel the slight twitch of his hardening cock under your fingernails as you trailed them along his length lightly. No self-control at all, beaten already. He should be embarrassed. 

“We’re in the back,” you whispered against his ear, curling your tongue against the shell, sending him squirming. “No one can see us.” 

It was true. No one was paying you attention, too busy watching the movie, and the volume was so loud they couldn’t even hear you both speaking in hushed whispers. No one cared. There weren’t even many people here to begin with… You could easily jerk him off and get away with it. 

He tried again. 

“I’ve wanted to see this movie for weeks,” he complained, head falling back against the seat, dark hair in his eyes. 

Sometimes it hit you how good looking he was and you hated it. Like right now, in the glow of the theatre screen as he made your stomach feel all flippy and weird. Sometimes you realised that you were the desperate one, you were the one who went wild for every little thing he did, and you hated that more than his looks. You also hated that you had these strange insecurities, like wondering if he thought the same about you… Did he think you were pretty? Did you drive him wild, make him desperate? Would he ever get bored? Plus more unexplainable thoughts and questions that you didn’t want to dwell on. 

Stupid really, because like you said, you could get him hard with just a stare. He loved complimenting you. Although saying that, it was only when his dick was inside you. Not that you admired him out loud anyway… This goddamn movie theatre. It was making you think too much. 

“You can still watch,” you insisted, deciding to ignore yourself because you were being an idiot. “Think of it like this, it’ll make your viewing even more enjoyable!”

He liked the sound of that, you could tell by the way he was fully erect against your hand now, ever so slightly raising his hips into your palm to get some friction going. “Shit,” he muttered. “Why are you like this?” He ended with a smile though. Of course. He loved it. 

You grinned, triumphant that you’d won, and before he could open his eyes again, you were unzipping his jeans and shoving your hands in his underwear, wrapping your hand around his smooth, hard flesh. His breath caught upon impact but he got it together pretty soon after, able to concentrate on the movie again. 

Admittedly you didn’t jerk him off very often, mostly because it was pointless. You didn’t need to get him hard when you were together and it wasn’t your duty to help him whack one out when he was horny and cut short. However, actually, it was pretty fun. You liked watching his reactions as he tried to watch the movie; jaw clenched, breathing loudly from his nose, his back poker straight as he tried to act casual. You could tell he knew you were staring at him, eyes a little wide, but he still continued to stare at the screen, as stubborn as ever, even when you were snapping your wrists like no tomorrow – as much as the confines of his jeans could let you anyway – desperate for him to lose his resolve. 

He finally gave you something in the form of a strangled groan a few minutes later, but it wasn’t what you thought, or at least not what you expected.

“Okay, okay,” he rushed in a strained whisper, his own fist clamping down around yours. “Stop now.” 

“Huh,” you got out, confused. You could feel his dick throbbing against your palm, red hot and sweaty, and you attempted to tug your fist again wanting to finish him off. He couldn’t just stop you mid-flow. What was wrong with him? When had he ever stopped an orgasm unless it was because he wanted to finish inside of you? Never, that’s when! 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he whined quietly, eyes wide, control lessening a little because he lets you move a couple more times, mouth open as he closed his eyes, reluctantly enjoying himself. 

“That’s the point,” you told him. Why else would you be doing this? Yes, you were evil and wanted to distract him, but you were going to be nice and make him cum too. 

“Yeah but—” he tried again, sitting up straighter. He was thinking really hard, whatever dilemma he had furrowing his brows. What was wrong? In true Seokjin fashion, you couldn’t have predicted it. 

“My mom bought me this underwear. It’s new, I can’t stain it.”

“Oh, my god,” you exclaimed in disbelief. 

“Shut up,” he hissed, needing you to be quiet. Your hand was still down his underwear, if anyone looked behind them they’d see you both acting shifty. 

You let go of his dick, pulling your hand back as you whispered furiously. “You’re such a weirdo. You wash it out after we’re done. Or does your mom do your laundry too?” 

“Of course she doesn’t,” he scoffed. He watched you sit back, attention now on the movie. You guessed it was the only option, but then he was grabbing your hand, tugging it to his crotch again. 

“I’m sorry,” he panicked. He was definitely not paying attention to the screen now. You let him shove your hand inside his boxers, let him open it up and latch it onto his dick. You even let him guide you with a few strokes. “Please carry on,” he asked, eyes round and begging. 

You liked it when he begged, so you hid your smirk, attempting to free your hand so you could hear it again. 

“Noooo. Please.” 

“Fine,” you sighed, pretending to give in. However, you couldn’t just leave it at that… With a smirk his way, you leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Mommy’s boy.” 

He grunted in disgust. “That’s a kink I don’t ever want to try.”

Soon enough he was putty under your touch again. His gaze was locked onto the giant screen but he’d long stopped watching. His whole body had gone stiff, his thighs locked, sneakers pushed into the floor as his orgasm approached. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, reaching to clutch your fist in his as he began to speed you up, chasing that sweet relief. 

It was hot, and you felt a twinge between your legs, impatiently telling yourself you wouldn’t have to wait long before you were back at his place and he was eating you out –twice! 

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna,” he attempted to warn you, really trying hard to keep his voice down. His ass lifted from the seat, his hand stalling your movements as he came. You squeezed your hand around him, getting every last bit while aiming it away from your skin. 

Annoyingly, you felt a few drops on your forefinger and you made sure to wipe it off against his boxers as you removed your hand. Just to spite him for making you watch the shitty movie. 

He didn’t seem to care though, sated from his orgasm, and you were stunned into silence when he wrapped his arm around you, knocking your head into his shoulder. He always got weirdly tactile after an orgasm and you hated it. However, you told yourself you were in a public place, somewhere you needed be quiet and considerate, so there was no point in kicking up a fuss, disturbing everyone – even though you’d been talking throughout and had just jerked him off in the back row… but whatever… He could have this one moment. You had disturbed his movie enjoyment after all. 

.

.

“You were right,” you said to Seokjin as you left the theatre, on your way to his car. “Going to the movies with you was fun.” 

He nodded his head, smug you’d been proven wrong, but of course you didn’t mean it. You just wanted to see him squirm, see him panic – payback for that move he’d pulled back inside, and for making you sit through that drivel. 

“Thanks for the date,” you smiled on cue, wrapping your hand into his as you sidled up to him. 

His eyes bulged instantly. “Wha—nononono,” he rushed, pushing you away. “That was not a date!” 

You cracked up, holding your sides. His expression was a picture. “Seokjin, shut up,” you shook your head. “I was teasing you.”

He sighed in relief, colour coming back to his face as if he’d just dodged a bullet. 

You didn’t realise he’d grabbed your hand again until you were at his car and he’d let go to get into the driver’s seat… 

Written 2018-20. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020