#flufftober25

It wasn't uncommon for Alfie and Y/N to find themselves by the fire during the fall and winter.

Those were the worst seasons for his sciatica, his back aching terribly as soon as the cold set in. But stubborn as a mule, his wife had to drag him to his chair, cover him with a blanket, and order Cyril to lie on his feet to keep him from moving.

“Traitors. You're conspiring against me. A poor, injured man.”

“I thought you weren't in pain and everything was perfectly fine.”

“… Don't use my words against me, woman. I'm fine. I'm just saying, if I weren't, you'd be horrible to take advantage of me like this.”

“So you can get up without your cane and without wincing ?”

“Terrible witch, I can't do anything against you. You promised me tea, where is it ?”

All this theatrics in an attempt to maintain his long-lost honor, reverently laid before Y/N, who gently mocked her ridiculous husband, always ended up doing what she asked anyway.

So they found themselves sitting together, Alfie half asleep, staring into the fire, lulled by the snoring of the dog guarding him, and Y/N quietly reading a book until it was time to put her two large babies to bed.

Recently, she had begun reading aloud. Sometimes without even realizing it, sometimes because Alfie asked her to. He was constantly asking questions and making comments, which somewhat disrupted the reading.

Tonight, it was Mary Shelley's turn to receive advice from Mr. Solomons, grumbling under his blanket.

"You can't bring someone back to life with electricity. Especially not after taking several pieces that don't fit together."

"Alfie, that's fiction."

"That's stupid. Why didn't he just take a whole corpse ?"

"For the monstrous aspect, I guess." Y/N replied, keeping her eyes on her book. "No one would know he was a living dead person if he didn't have all these scars."

"Hmm. I have a lot of scars, love, and no one tries to burn me. At least, not because of my face. Only my charming personality."

His wife didn't say anything about the comparison, not wanting to get into any sort of argument, and just reading the story, ignoring Alfie's absurdities as best she could, as he continued to see many similarities between him and the monster.

It became a little more difficult after the arrival of Lavenza, the professor's adopted sister and wife.

Wordlessly, Y/N stared at Alfie, challenging him to make a joke that had anything to do with Thomas or Arthur, but he remained silent, admiring the flames in the fireplace and patting Cyril's head.

Later, forgetting the marital status that existed between Victor and Elizabeth, he recalled how the Shelby siblings had tried to oppose their union, believing he wasn't good enough for their little sister.

He understood. He had already understood then, and he still understood just as much today. What he didn't understand was how he found himself married, in this armchair, pampered like a being worthy of love.

"Alfie…"

"What ? You fell for the monster, treacle, I have the right to be surprised. Like Hades, I took you to the Underworld, and you're a prisoner there with the dangerous Cerberus, always ready to attack."

"I see Cerberus drooling on the carpet. You're going from creature to God of the Dead, that's progress."

“Kidnapper God, love ! Don't forget that detail. Having to share you with your family half the time, and looking like a corpse.”

“You don't look like a corpse.”

“Not yet. Soon. Especially if I stay in this chair rotting away instead of running around town minding my business.”

“You said you wanted to rest a bit, leaving Ollie to fend for himself for the day you retire.”

“Once again, woman, stop using my words against me.”

She continued reading, until the death of the creator, then of creation, a moment that seemed to upset Alfie, even though he started grumbling again, saying that the whole thing was absurd and pointless.

No, he wasn't crying, he must have caught a cold. And no, that didn't mean his wife had to take even more care of him.

It was just strange to think that someone innocent, who hadn't asked for anything, created by a madman, was rejected by everyone, while he, one of London's worst criminals, had found peace with a wonderful woman.

"Big softie."

"Watch out, Treacle. Keep going and I'll run away to the North Pole. You'll have to chase me, with poor Cyril pulling your sledge."

"Well, it's late, time for bed."

"When old Alfie says stupid things, he's tired, right ? You wouldn't even come looking for me in the snow."

"I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, idiot."

"Oh, don't bother, Treacle. I've got you, I'll never let you go."

Sighing in amusement, Y/N helped her husband up and up the stairs to their bedroom, where he continued to talk about the book until he finally fell asleep.

“It’s pishin’ it doon out here. Bout to freeze me bollocks off,” Soap mutters, pulling his arms tighter around his chest.

Behind the mask, Ghost grins fondly. “English, Johnny.”

“It’s raining fucking hard.” Soap snaps. Then he mutters, almost as an afterthought. “And I’m cold.

Ghost doesn’t hesitate. He pulls his jacket from his shoulders and holds it out. “Here. Take my jacket.

Soap glances at it, then up at Ghost. Scowls, then scoffs, “I’m not taking your jacket.”

“Stop being so bloody stubborn.” Ghost raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re shivering.” He shakes the jacket at Soap. “Here. Take it.”

Soap hesitates. For a beat, he debates, then finally mutters under his breath, “Och, fine.” He takes the jacket, tugging it around his shoulders. It swallows him, but he doesn’t protest further, just grumbles and adjusts the collar.

Seeing Soap wear his jacket…does something to Ghost.

His eyes resembled two full moons.

It was one of the first times Y/N had thought about when the Collector had taken her, along with the certainty that she would die in excruciating pain like her friends before her.

Dragged in a trunk through several rooms and long corridors, she had seen what he had done to the other victims he had brought back to his lair, crying silently while waiting for her turn.

It had been weeks, maybe months now, and Y/N was still breathing.

The small room he had set up for her had no windows, lit by a timer or when her captor decided to visit unannounced. The bed could have been worse; she had two meals a day, water available, several outfits, a mirror with a comb, and makeup.

Except when he dropped by out of nowhere, Y/N knew she had to prepare for his visits, always on the same days, at the same time.

She had feared the worst at first, when he came to sit next to her, stroking her hair as if touching a pet. But there was nothing else, no inappropriate gesture. Threats of violence, to make her obey, never carried out because she behaved well.

“Good.,” he murmured, patting her shoulder in congratulations. “Fragile and gentle. Like a butterfly. It's often mistakenly believed that spiders eat butterflies, but that rarely happens. Only certain species, and when they're lucky, because butterflies are clever.”

“… Really ?”

“Yes. They fly far from danger zones and know how to camouflage themselves. The colors aren't there for aesthetic reasons but to deceive predators.”

Y/N had no illusions. She knew she could wear all the makeup in the world, but this predator would never let her fly far. The screams of the other victims, less fortunate than her, echoed every night in the abandoned building.

The day he began to take off his mask, she thought it was the end. In any case, further proof that she would never leave this room alive.

This certainty was reinforced when he gave her his name. Asa Emory. A strange name for a very strange man.

Passionate about insects, he planned to create some sort of hybrid. A fixed idea, clearly inherited from his father, who had massacred the rest of the family before killing himself, as he explained to her one evening, his head resting on her legs.

His bright eyes never left hers, following her every movement, her breathing, studying her reactions, and listening to her timid questions about the little creatures he loved so much.

“People don't like insects. Out of fear, stupidity, cruelty. They don't see that they are vastly superior to humankind. Do you see that ?”

“Some are quite impressive, I imagine. Like ants, or bees.”

“Ah, you're right, little butterfly. Colonies, hives, highly intelligent groups. Impossible for humans. But solitary ones are just as impressive. The Latrodectus mactans is my favorite. Watching it devour its prey is always a fabulous sight.”

“… I like ladybugs.”

“Coccinellidae. Good choice, ferocious predators of aphids and scale insects.”

Even though he called her "butterfly," it was now clear that Y/N held a special place in Asa Emory's collection, perhaps being the favorite.

At least, that was what a certain Abby, flushed with jealousy, claimed when she entered her room one day.

Her speech was incoherent, but she must have been here for a long time, perhaps as long as Y/N, although it was impossible to be certain since she didn't know how long it had been since her abduction.

In any case, Abby saw herself as unique, until she learned of the existence of this other, special specimen, intact and well-treated. Better treated, because she had a bigger room and a real bed, whereas she often returned to her box.

"I'm just a doll then," she sobbed, pushing Y/N away as she tried to calm her. “I thought he loved me, but he's just playing with me ! Why ?! I do everything he says, so why you and not me ?!”

“Look, it doesn't matter, we're both…”

“No ! I'm his cricket ! Me and me alone !”

Y/N didn't remember much about what happened next, especially after the other young woman hit her. She vaguely noticed that the light had turned on, a sign that Asa's arrival was imminent.

Abby didn't react to this detail, either because she was too angry, or because it didn't work the same way with her, the light always remaining on or off. In any case, the door had opened, there had been a scream, and then nothingness.

When she woke up, Y/N was no longer in the room.

The doctors, and then the police, explained that they had found her unconscious near a very important crime scene that was burning, along with several survivors who had managed to escape the Collector.

When they asked her if she knew anything, a name, a face, promising her that she was in no danger because the killer hadn't escaped the flames, she remained silent, without really knowing why.

For hours, her captor had given her a lecture on survival instinct.

Nursed to sleep by the medication, she paid no attention for the rest of the day to the people who came to see her, until this tall nurse, his face half-hidden by a protective mask, came to check her IVs, a syringe in his hand.

Y/N stared at him, and suddenly the two small moons she knew so well landed on her, as he stopped moving, not piercing the bag.

“… I'm sorry about your collection,” she whispered. “I didn't say anything.”

“I know.”

“But you're still going to kill me.”

“No, my butterfly. I'll take you home.”

“To hang on a wall ?”

“Only if you're not good.”

Homelander knew the concept of Halloween the same way he knew Christmas or Thanksgiving.

He'd had a very specific lesson on the subject, the history, with photos flashing across a screen, showing him happy children with their families while he was alone in a cold lab.

As an adult, he'd been able to participate in Vought events, all staged, just as cold as his old cell, with all the people who were afraid of him or worshipped him like a god, none of them daring to approach him.

Anyway, Homelander didn't see the point of Halloween. He didn't like sweets, he was in costume all year round, and he didn't even need to speak to make the idiots around him tremble.

In a way, it was almost as if he lived this ridiculous holiday every day. And like all other holidays, he wasn't a fan.

Things had changed a bit with Ryan's arrival. In educational movies, good fathers would walk their sons out into the street, find them a nice costume, and tell scary stories before bed.

Except Ryan didn't want to go out; he didn't like crowds. He didn't want a stupid costume. And he covered his ears when his father tried to make him laugh with anecdotes about slightly gory missions.

It might not have been a big deal. If the boy didn't want to do anything, it was even easier for him. But John felt like he was failing in his role. Like he wasn't wanted, like he wasn't loved.

So he went to Y/N.

Y/N was a bit like his therapist, except she wasn't a doctor, she wasn't on Vought's payroll, and no one knew they were talking.

When he wasn't feeling well, he would fly to her apartment, where she would leave her balcony window open for him, allowing him to wait for her if she was out, or welcoming him with a warm smile.

She was the only normie he liked, who wasn't crawling at his feet or frozen in front of him, treating him like a human being.

"Good morning," she crooned when she found him in her kitchen. "There's milk in the fridge if you want. I have water too."

"Nothing, thanks."

"Oh. Alright. Everything okay ?"

"Halloween. Tonight. Ryan doesn't want to trick-or-treat. I don't know what to do."

"Well, I'll need more details, because I don't see the problem."

“I want to be a good father. Good fathers celebrate Halloween with their sons. We have to do something, but he doesn't want to.”

“Fine. What about a TV night, horror movies for all ages, with warm milk, big sweaters, and candies ? Would that be an alternative ?”

“… I knew you weren't my confidante for nothing. Come on, we need to prepare everything.”

“We ?”

“I've never done it, I need h… I mean, it would be better if you took care of it, so everything would be perfect.”

The plan was to fly to the tower without anyone seeing them, have Y/N prepare his apartment with decorations, make a list of decorations, candy, and movies to give Ashley for yesterday, return her home, and voilà, Homelander had his perfect evening.

He hadn't anticipated Ryan coming home early, finding a stranger hanging fake spiders from the ceiling, and his dad insisting she get off that chair because all he had to do was fly to put that nonsense everywhere.

“Ryan ! Buddy ! Hi! You're… It's…”

“Hi, Ryan, I'm Y/N, a friend of your dad's. He's planning a father-son Halloween party, and I'm helping… Well, I'm trying to help decorate.”

“Oh. Cool,” the boy said shyly, smiling. “Are you staying with us to see the movies ?”

“I don't know. It's your night.”

“Stay,” Homelander said a little too quickly, biting his lip to force himself to calm down. “I mean, to make sure everything's going well. That way, I'll know how to do it right alone next time.”

He'd find an excuse to get her back the next time. Because there had to be more times, it was necessary.

John couldn't remember the last time he'd been this happy. Probably never. A glass of cinnamon milk in one hand, the other resting on his son's arm as he laughed at a skeleton who wanted to celebrate Christmas.

And to his right, Y/N, her head on his shoulder, half asleep, perfectly peaceful, as if she weren't sitting next to the most dangerous being on Earth. She trusted him completely. Her friend.

Maybe she could be more than his confidant. Maybe by next Halloween, they'd become a truly happy family. They certainly looked like it, together on this couch.

Savoring his milk, Homelander decided that if his whole life was one long Halloween, then all his evenings must be like this one.

The first time Y/N had heard of Khonshu was when she overheard a conversation between Thor and his brother Loki, who was visiting the Temple of New York.

"Don't even talk to me about that annoying old bird. I can still hear his screeching in my ears when he first saw Mjölnir. Blah blah blah, you stole one of my magic stones and turned it into a disgusting object, you miserable false gods, blah blah !"

"I quite enjoyed that part, personally. Less so when he labeled me an enemy of the Travelers of the Night."

After some research in the great library, she had read that he was the Egyptian God of the Moon and Vengeance, who protected the innocent from the wicked and hated injustice, with a rather temperamental streak that naturally came with his status as a deity. Master Wong added that he was truly a pain. This was undoubtedly the most important piece of information to remember, besides the fact that his Avatar was extremely dangerous and that she should avoid crossing their path.

There wasn't much written about this Avatar, this Moon Knight. Only rumors, some of which were years old and probably no longer relevant. No one knew if the God was still active and had found someone foolish or desperate enough to serve him. Two strange events in Egypt, disturbing the sky, intrigued the masters of the Mystical Arts, but since there were no consequences, they took no action, simply noting that the God might be involved.

The first time she met Steven Grant, she didn't think he was foolish or desperate. And she didn't for a second consider that he could have any connection to this story. Even though he loved mythology.

"You're wearing a beautiful Nepalese ring of coral and turquoise, for protection, balance, and wisdom."

"Excuse me ?"

"No, excuse me !" he exclaimed, stepping back, realizing he was practically touching her as she examined ancient statues in the British Museum, searching for clues to find an ancient artifact. "I'm confused, I saw it from a distance and... Excuse me."

"No, it's nothing, you just startled me. Do you work here ?"

"Before. But I vandalized the toilets, so... Anyway, Donna wouldn't let me be a guide. I talk too much, according to her, I would have scared the tourists away. For example, you're standing in front of the statue of A'a, which is supposedly the Christian God the sculptor met on his way to London, but some say it's actually a god who was part of a whole pantheon that's now lost. There were thirty-nine of them, but since all the divine representations were destroyed, no one... Maybe I do talk a bit too much sometimes. Sorry again."

"That Donna is an idiot, it's very interesting."

She had never seen anyone's face light up so much as Steven was given free rein to share all his knowledge, as useful as it was fascinating.

Y/N even ended up forgetting the reason for her presence, strolling with him through the rest of the museum, listening to him. Normally, apprentices and masters of the Mystical Arts weren't supposed to form bonds with civilians, but seeing Steven's sad expression—he thought he'd found a friend, Y/N gave him her number.

If Wong or Strange asked, she'd say he was an expert who could help with future research. This wasn't entirely a lie, even though she called and saw him for other reasons.

What she understood less was when the Sorcerer Supreme asked her how she'd met the current Moon Knight.

"Who ?"

"Someone named Jake Lockley. Or Marc Spector ? He seems to use several names, but you two have been seen together."

"Never heard of this guy. A doppelganger, maybe ? Or maybe we just crossed paths without realizing it, I don't know."

"You two seemed close." said Wong with his usual stoic expression. "Very close."

"I don't know this Moon Knight. I recently saw a friend, Steven."

"... Stephen ?"

"No, Steven with a V. Steven Grant. A very nice man, not a fighter at all. If I mention Khonshu to him, he'll give me a history lesson, not start throwing punches."

"Hmm. Be careful though. He's slaughtered several criminals; he's not messing around."

The first time Y/N met Jake Lockley, it was clear that he, too, was neither stupid nor desperate, but indeed very dangerous and looked far too much like Steven to be a mere coincidence.

However, aside from his face, he had nothing in common with her new geeky friend. With a thick Spanish accent, he ordered her to mind her own business and not try to stop the Fist of Vengeance, by staying away from him.

Despite her attempts to tell him she didn't care at all about Khonshu's plans, he continued to bark at her every time their paths crossed, something he seemed to crave far more than she did.

"You're the one following me ! Bruja !"

"Well, first of all, for the hundredth time, it's apprentice of the Mystical Arts, not witch. And you're the one following me !"

"Mentirosa ! You were here yesterday ! Leave us alone !"

"Yesterday ? Not at all, I wasn't even working yesterday, I was with..."

Yesterday, she was with Steven. A terrible doubt washed over her then, as she remembered Wong's words. The new Moon Knight used several names. Could he really be such a good actor ? Could he pretend to be a sweet and charming man one day, only to act like a raging jerk the next ? Why not just tell her right away that he didn't want to see her ?

It made no sense, and Y/N felt awful while Jake continued to yell at her, oblivious to the approaching panic attack.

And when he put a hand on her shoulder to get a reaction, she instinctively pushed him away, pulling him out of his body in his astral form.

Except that, in addition to him, she saw two other people floating by, who seemed a little lost.

"... Love ?!"

"... Steven ?"

"Damn it, what's going on ?! Steven ? Who is this other 'us' ? And why do we look like ghosts ?! Are we dead again ?!"

"Cálmate, Marc. It's the pequeña bruja's fault. El Jefe says we're not really in danger."

"But damn it, who are you ? What boss ?! What's going on ?!"

"Love ?!" Steven insisted, ignoring the others to focus on Y/N with a pleading but hopeful look.

"Um... I'm not really sure I understand. Are you possessed ? I can perform an exorcism."

It turned out that, in addition to being annoying, Khonshu was horrible, choosing a man broken by life to become his new Avatar, knowing he would have a very hard time escaping afterward. Proof of this was that Marc Spector was convinced he and Steven were rid of the God, only to discover that another alter was still running around disguised as a mummy, serving him.

Slightly embarrassed to see the astral forms arguing in the middle of the street, Y/N brought them back into their bodies, thinking that would solve the problem. This only cut out some of the sound, as Jake continued to answer the others aloud.

"Proud of yourself, Burja ? Everything was perfect before you got involved. You... But she's the one who came in... Yes, but..."

"Thanks for defending me, Steven."

"No, it's Khonshu." Jake muttered, wincing. "You never would have found out if I'd kept my mouth shut. He thinks I did it on purpose because I wanted my hermanos to find out the truth. Mierda."

"If he's too much trouble, I can always try an exorcism. Maybe it works on Gods. Oh, it's windy."

"You're very lucky you can't hear him, pequeña bruja."

"Apprentice of the mystical arts."

"Sí, sí. Una pequeña aprendiz de maga linda."

"Linda ?"

"... I have to go. Steven will call you tonight, if I let him have the body."

Poor Steven was still a little lost, telling her about the very long conversation he'd had with Marc to calm him down, explaining who Marc was and apologizing for not having told her sooner, and then about everything he'd discovered about Jake, whose existence he'd been completely unaware of until now.

All of this, however, was almost insignificant compared to all the questions he had for her about her magical powers.

"You're a magician, love ! That's so cool ! You have to explain how it works ! Do you think I could learn ?"

"I'd have to ask the Sorcerer Supreme; I'm not allowed to talk about the Temple's secrets."

"You just used a lot of words that fascinate me. Can you tell Marc that this Sorcerer Supreme isn't going to put a curse on us ?"

"Only if you criticize Beyoncé."

"... Huh? Why ? And why does that reassure you, Marc ? You like Beyoncé ? You... AH ! You're going to break my nose again, stop it !"

The first time Y/N officially met Marc Spector in full control of himself, she found him a bit desperate, after everything she already knew about him: distrustful, solitary. And probably the person in the world who found Khonshu annoying the most. Which proved he wasn't stupid at all.

Once he understood that she wasn't a threat to him or Steven, much less to Jake, who could defend himself and seemed to trust her somewhat, he relaxed as much as possible. Still grimacing, though, when she asked if he was a Beyoncé fan. Master Wong made the same face, although he seemed to think that this Moon Knight couldn't be all that terrible if he had good taste in music. He could be a good ally in certain situations.

"So, young sorceress, I heard about your union with the Avatar of Khonshu. Congratulations. Or Avatars, I didn't quite catch that. The other Gods are a little jealous and don't understand your choice, but congratulations."

"My what ? Thor, my what ?"

"I'll tell loads of honeymoon jokes during the ceremony, just for the pleasure of hearing that old bird squawk."

The idea had been immediately criticized by Venom.

Stupid, ridiculous, boring—no wonder, since it was Eddie's suggestion. Spending the evening watching horror movies couldn't be as good as wandering the streets, scaring people, being admired by children, and receiving tons of sweets.

But he had agreed to listen to Y/N when she defended his host, saying he would definitely love it.

First, because unlike Eddie, Y/N wasn't a stupid loser, even if she had fallen in love with a stupid loser, which was a clear sign of dementia.

Second, because she promised him there would be all the chocolate he wanted during the evening, lots of chocolate, an avalanche of sugar.

And finally, the most important point of her argument, they were going to see lots of wonderful movies, even better than his favorite telenovela, with lots of great actors for the story buff that he was.

“Hmm. Yeah, that could be fun. Besides, I see some movies really scare Eddie.”

“Wrong. And we won’t watch those.”

“We’ll watch those first !”

“No, buddy, we’re all supposed to have fun, not have fun because I wet myself because of Michael Myers. So you choose the chocolate, Y/N chooses the cover, and I choose the movies.”

“Y/N chooses the movies !”

“We’ll have a diverse, edgy, and family-friendly selection. Without Michael Myers.”

“Not fun. But that’s because Y/N is too nice.”

“Because she’s a good lover, not like you.”

“Hey ! I'm the best ! You'll see, I'll get the best chocolates, your belly will explode with happiness !”

Still keeping his word, Venom rushed to order the most delicious chocolates possible online, while still having to stick to a budget he found rather irritating and ridiculously small.

If he could have, he would have filled every cupboard in the apartment with chocolate, leaving only the other things Y/N liked.

He criticized the blanket Eddie had chosen for not being big enough for the three of them. Yes, he was just a head floating between them, the blanket covering his host and Y/N very well, soft and warm. He stopped when she said it was perfect.

No Halloween movies, much to the symbiote's sadness, but still, some big names he had heard about that promised a grand night.

Almost as much as the chocolate, Venom was delighted by the horrors on screen, Eddie's trembling, and Y/N's warmth. He was truly happy in that moment, in that place, surrounded by the two most important people in the universe.

A suspended, magical moment.

Until he extended one of his tentacles, wearing the Michael Myers mask he'd bought online, and made it appear from behind Eddie's shoulder.

"MOTHERFUCKER !" yelled the reporter, leaping off the couch, striking a karate-chop pose across the room, even though he didn't know any of the shots.

"GOTCHA !"

"Not cool, man ! Not cool at all !"

"Super cool, you mean ! Best prank ever ! I should have filmed that."

“No, no, and really not !”

“Y/N, it was cool, wasn’t it ?”

“Hmm.”

They knew that 'hmm’. The tired, disappointed 'hmm’ because they were still bickering over ridiculous things, and it was evident when they looked at Y/N, who was staring blankly at the screen.

Slowly, Eddie came back to sit next to her, as Venom threw the mask out the window, as if it had never been there.

“… I ruined movie night. Sorry, Morsel.”

“Hmm.”

“… And sorry, Eddie, I wouldn’t have said scare you like that, when you said you wouldn’t like it.”

“Yeah. But I admit, it was a good joke, I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

“I'm still a good lover… Aren't I ?”

“Let's just say we still have some things to talk about, but you're not the worst in the world.”

“You're terrible at compliments, but I'll take that.”

“Babe ?” Eddie whispered, turning to Y/N who continued to ignore them. “We're really sorry, we're going to be good.”

“You always say that. Until next time.”

“But this is true ! We're going to be super mega good, and the best boyfriends ever, in the entire galaxy. So let's kiss and put on the next movie. Alien !”

“... Babe, did you do that on purpose ?”

When Y/N had decided to dress up as 2B from Nier Automata, she'd found the idea original, cool, and slightly sexy. It was a real risk of attracting shit like a disease, unless she opted for tights.

But this year, she really wanted to have fun, and when her friends told her about this costume party, she'd made up her mind.

Finding the basics of the outfit hadn't been too difficult. A little black dress was a bit of a wardrobe staple, available everywhere, all the time. The white-haired wig and the mask were a little more difficult, especially because it had to cover her eyes, but not make her blind either.

Then there was the katana.

Y/N had wondered if the katana was really necessary. She wasn't going to include the little flying robot, so it wasn't such a big deal. But at the same time, it wouldn't be as cool without a weapon, one that could scare the idiots even if it was in plastic.

So, there was no question of using a children's toy. She needed something well-made, that looked real. A beautiful sword, to go with her beautiful costume.

Since the party wasn't far from her home, she put on a coat to avoid catching her death, knowing that even if some people were perplexed when they saw her, the date normally explained her outfit.

Everything went pretty well. A few idiots, as always, but a pleasant time overall. So much so that Y/N even stayed longer than expected, without noticing that it was very dark outside.

She lived really close by. Less than a 20-minute walk, no more. It wasn't raining, the streets were lit, silent. Normally, there was no reason to be afraid.

Yet, Y/N had a feeling something was going to happen. A shiver ran down her spine, and it wasn't from the cold. There was no one left to accompany her, at least no one in decent condition, and it seemed ridiculous to call an expensive taxi for such a short trip.

Repeating to herself that she was brave, that she wasn't risking anything, one hand on her fake katana, she took a deep breath before leaving the building to walk quickly towards her destination.

And very quickly, she realized she wasn't alone. Footsteps and snickers behind her were getting closer, even as she tried to speed up, still holding her useless weapon.

She was about to make the decision to run, despite her skills, despite the risk of falling, when she hit an invisible wall, knocking her to the ground.

Her pursuers could have caught up with her, but the scene seemed to disturb them, even more so when a strange clicking noise echoed through the street, and they fled in the other direction, leaving Y/N to face this new problem.

Looking up, she saw that there was indeed something in front of her, something you could make out if you paid close attention. The outline of a man, huge, frightening.

Totally panicked, she screamed when he appeared before her, and clearly this thing wasn't human. If she had simply seen him from afar, she might have thought it was a Halloween costume, with that armor, that mask, that slightly green skin. And his weapons.

If it was a prank, it was well done, and not funny at all.

He stared at her wordlessly behind his mask, his fists clenched, as if waiting to see what she would do.

Slowly, raising his hands, Y/N stood up.

“… Don't hurt me, please. I just want to go home.”

“Warrior.” he replied in a strange, almost robotic voice. “Fight.”

“Uh, no. Thank you. I'm not a warrior.”

“Your weapon. Use and fight with honor, warrior.”

“… It's plastic. Look, it's a fake. I don't know how to fight, I'm not the one you're looking for.”

Tilting its head to the side like a child who didn't understand, the creature took a closer look at the katana, realizing she was telling the truth.

Then, with a swift movement, he pulled a knife from behind his back, before the terrified eyes of the poor woman, who was expecting the worst.

But against all odds, he then handed her the weapon.

“… I don't want to fight. Please.”

“No. For defense. You, weak little thing. Stupid to be alone without a weapon. Predators all around. Not honorable to leave you like this.”

“Oh. You… You're giving it to me to help me ? That's … kind ? Thank you.”

“Yautja honorable. You, not a worthy opponent, nor interesting prey. Possible mate. Small but good hips, nice chest.”

“Uh…”

“Under Dra'Khael's protection now.”

If you asked Ignacio Varga, he had neither the time nor the inclination to celebrate Halloween, or any other ridiculous holiday. Frankly, there weren't many reasons in his life to have fun or even just relax.

He thought he was being clever by starting a side business selling pills. Nothing malicious. Enough to put some money aside for the day he managed to get out of the Cartel.

Then Tuco started using again. His paranoia came rushing back, making him increasingly unstable, and Nacho didn't want to end up like Dog Paulon, leaving part of his skull embedded in some guy's shoulder.

He thought he was being clever again by sending him to prison with Mike's help. That solved the problem for a few days, before Don Hector arrived.

Things could have gone well with the Salamanca boss. He was at war with Fring, he was becoming disrespectful to Don Eladio, he was going to fall soon without Ignacio having to lift a finger.

But he had decided to use his father's garage. Despite his pleas, despite being a good employee, Hector had chosen to use Manuel Varga, a good man who wouldn't back down.

The medication trick, it had to be said, was a good one. He hadn't managed to kill Salamanca, but he had been in a coma, then confined to a chair, unable to even speak.

That had brought Lalo over.

"Doing the same thing over and over again, hoping for a different result…" Nacho sighed, looking at his glass.

"What ?"

"Nothing, Domingo, forget it."

"Are you going to stay alone at the bar ? There's good music, pretty girls. For once, we can relax."

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

If he’d agreed to go with the others to this dive bar, it was to try and forget all this mess for a while. He didn’t want to be alone at home. Amber and Jo didn’t matter, they were there without ever really being there.

Wandering around in the car ? He risked running into cops, or being followed by Fring’s men. No, thanks.

And it would be suspicious not to come, since everyone was there. Not Lalo, but he’d know he hadn’t come, and he’d want to know what he’d done, with that big, psycho smile of his.

So Nacho drank his beer, staring at the wall, waiting for time to pass and praying for better days, ignoring the music and the costumed idiots around him, who were all asking him if he was in costume too, and as what.

“Let me guess. Serial killer.” a female voice said to his right. “Wait. I know. Poor lonely man, too dark and cool for this world.”

“… Hi Y/N.”

“Hey Ignacio. Long time no see. Still as grumpy as ever.”

Y/N was his neighbor when he was young. The girl he used to watch from afar with eyes that sparkled way too much, with a ridiculous smile, that he tried to hide from his family and friends.

Way too good for him. Way too good to get close to the Cartel. He was already putting his father in danger, he wasn’t about to drag more innocent people down with him.

The easy, quick way to scare her away: be insulting. Mean. She wasn’t stupid; she knew who he hung out with, what he did, and if she was still there, it was only because she didn’t feel unsafe with him. Big mistake.

Easy on paper, because every time he'd tried, turning to face her, the words had refused to leave Nacho's mouth. He couldn't do that to her, not even to protect her.

Even though it was crazy, it was kind of obvious, seeing how sparkling her eyes were, that Y/N liked him too. Waiting for him to open up so she'd never leave him.

"I imagine if I asked you to dance with me, you'd say no." she sighed, sitting down next to him.

"If you want me to step on your toes, sure."

"Come on, you can't lie to me. You're a great dancer. I remember once in school, you…"

"Stop. I know what you're going to say, I don't want to hear it. I was young and stupid."

"Now you're old and stupid."

He was going to say it wasn't entirely true. He wasn't old yet. But he said nothing, thinking that maybe he never would be. Not with everything that was going on right now.

Y/N noticed his silence, looking at him sadly. Like his father, she had always been able to read him, used to his taciturn nature and having to learn to decipher it.

They shouldn't be together. It wouldn't lead anywhere anyway. But tonight, just for tonight.

Slowly, Nacho stood up, taking her hand and leading her to the center of the dance floor.

It wasn't the time for a slow dance at all, but they embraced without a word, swaying gently, under the good-natured sneers of the crowd who thought they were drunk and in love.

Drunk ? Not at all, never. If he were in love, he'd have to pretend he wasn't if Lalo or Gus asked. It was just a dance with a girl he'd never see again. He wasn't sure they'd believe him.