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yoyomomiko · 1 day ago

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[THREE] — The music box

☆ `` SPECTRAL SCAMMERS ``

☆ — summary: when cartman comes up with yet another 'get rich quick' scheme, he forces his friends, and you, into starting a ghost hunting service. armed with a mix of makeshift equipment, a questionable van and no actual skills, you begin taking jobs to "exorcise" haunted houses.

warnings: strong language, violence, horror elements, cartman being cartman.

(a/n): this chapter is sooo long and it took me DAYS to write it!! >_< (I genuinely didn't sleep at all and just wrote this without stopping, hours without breaks xx) -- this is by far the longest fic/chapter that I've ever wrote... I can't believe it's over 11k words!! I apologize for any grammar mistakes, you can point them out nicely and I'll fix them!! I also apologize for how this chapter seems kinda bland ^.^ -- for some reason, i feel like there wasn't enough romantic tension and stuff... and Tweek's interactions with the reader were so awkward I just don't know how to write for him (╥⁠﹏⁠╥)

wc: 11.1k+

★m.list

★series m.list

<- [PREVIOUS] — [NEXT] -> (uncompleted)

Lunch was rarely quiet, but today's chaos reached a new level as Cartman slammed his backpack onto the cafeteria table with a grin.

"You guys aren't going to believe this." He started, practically shaking in excitement.

"Is it another terrible idea?" Kyle asked, barely looking up from his lunch.

"It's not a terrible idea." Cartman snapped, puffing out his chest. "It's a brilliant idea. A $200 idea, to be exact."

"Here we go..." Stan muttered, leaning back in his seat.

Cartman ignored the groans and unsure looks as he whipped out his phone like a trophy. "I just landed us a gig at the old DeLacroix mansion. They're paying us $200 to 'investigate paranormal activity'."

You all froze for a moment, processing his words.

"Two hundred bucks?" Kenny asked, his eyes lighting up. "That's like... A month's worth of pop tats!"

"Wait, wait, wait..." You interrupted them, raising an eyebrow. "Who in their right mind would pay us twenty hundred dollars to investigate anything? We're not exactly professionals."

"That's where my genius comes in. I told them we're licensed professionals." Cartman smirked.

"Licensed by who? The South Park Department of Bullshit?" Craig asked jokingly.

"Licensed by me, obviously." Cartman shot back.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. "So let me get this straight... You lied to some poor people and convinced them to pay $200 to mess and play around their houses pretending to hunt ghosts?"

"Exactly!" Cartman answered proudly. "And you're welcome."

"Dude, this is going to blow up in our faces." Stan said as he shook his head. "We don't know the first thing about ghost hunting."

"We don't need to." Cartman replied, waving him off. "Ghosts aren't even real. We just have to scare the homeowners enough for them to think that we actually did something."

"That's... Moraly questionable." You mumbled, eyeing him up and down.

"Oh, please, [Y/N], like you've never fucked with the truth to make a quick buck." Cartman rolled his eyes.

"I-I don't know about this..." Tweek, seated beside you, shifted uncomfortably. "What if the house is actually haunted?"

"Ghosts aren't real, Tweek." Craig replied flatly as he rested his arms on the lunch table.

"They're not real until they are..." Tweek mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Okay can we focus on the important part?" Clyde interrupted. "Two hundred dollars is a lot of money. I say we go for it."

"Yeah." Kenny agreed, nodding excitedly. "We could use the cash to upgrade our equipment or something." He muttered hesitantly, a bit heart broken that, most probably, that's what Cartman would want to do with the money.

"What equipment?" Stan asked, raising and eyebrow.

"We'll figure that out later!" Cartman said as he slammed his hands on the table. "All we have to do is show up, act professional and maybe sprinkle some flour to make it look like ghost footprints. Easy money!"

"This is such a bad idea." Kyle groaned.

"Bad idea or not, you're in." Cartman shot back smugly. "Everyone's in."

"I didn't agree to anything." Craig cut in.

"I don't care what you think, Craig." Cartman snapped. "You're coming. And you're driving the van."

Craig flipped him off with the same bored expression on his face.

"What van?" You asked, narrowing your eyes.

"Oh, I've got that covered. Just wait." Cartman's grin widened.

...

As the rest of the group continued to bicker, you couldn't help but notice Tweek fidgeting beside you. His hands toyed with the hem of his shirt, his leg bouncing under the table.

"You okay?" You asked softly, leaning closer to him.

He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice but nodded quickly. "Y-Yeah, just... You know, Cartman's plans never end well."

"That's fair." You mumbled, sighing before quickly giving him a small smile. "But hey, at least this one doesn't involve creating an alien beacon that sends signals out, which ends up getting us abducted by aliens and then arrested by the police." You recalled, reminding Tweek of the horrific incident that happened... Not long ago.

The corners of Tweek's lips tugged upwards, forming a shy smile, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "Yeah, I guess. Still, it's a haunted mansion... That's horror movie territory..."

"You're not scared, are you?" You teased lightly.

"N-No! Of course not!" His face turned a faint shade of pink.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you if anything jumps out." You assured him, smirking as you noticed his cheeks growing redder.

‘ He was so cute when he blushed! You could barely contain yourself from kissing him! ’

He laughed nervously, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "T-Thanks..."

Across the table, Clyde wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you. "Aw, look at that! Lovebirds bonding over ghost hunting!"

"Shut up, Clyde." Your smirk faded as you threw your empty carton of milk at him.

"You're just jealous." Cartman cut in smugly. "Not everyone gets to bask in my genius and charm like [Y/N] does."

"Yeah, that's exactly it." You muttered dryly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

...

After much debate and several insults exchanged between Cartman and Kyle, you all hesitantly agreed to the plan.

"Fine!" Stan snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. "We'll do it, but if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you, Cartman."

"Blame me all you want!" Cartman shot back as he smirked. "I'll be too busy counting my $200 to care."

"What do you mean 'my' $200?" Craig asked, his monotone voice cutting through the noise. "Pretty sure we're splitting it evenly."

"Yeah!" You agreed, nodding. "We're all risking our dignity here, so we all get a fair share."

Cartman huffed but didn't argue further. "Whatever. The point is, we've got a job. We're gonna kick some ghost ass!"

You all gathered in the school parking lot after the last bell, backpacks thrown over shoulders and various pieces of 'ghost equipment' in a row. Cartman stood in front of a suspiciously beat up white van, grinning ear to ear as if he was about to ask you if you wanted some candy.

"What the hell is that?" Kyle asked, staring at the van with wide eyes as if it would come to life and swallow him whole.

"Our ride." Cartman answered proudly, slapping the side of the van. "Rented it with my mom's credit card!"

"Your mom let you use her credit card?" Stan raised a brow.

"She doesn't know yet." Cartman admitted with a shrug. "But she will when I 'accidentally' leave the receipt on the counter. By then, it'll be too late."

"Classic." Craig muttered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Dude, we're not getting in that thing." You said, eyeing the van doubtfully. "It looks like it hasn't been cleaned since the 90s. What's with the stain on the side?"

"Ghost residue." Cartman answered without missing a beat.

"Pretty sure that's bird crap." Clyde pointed out as he leaned closer.

"Shut up!" Cartman snapped. "Do you losers want to walk all the way to the DeLacroix mansion? No? Then get in."

"This is so stupid..." Stan sighed.

"Not as stupid as your haircut." Cartman shot back.

"Let's just get this over with." Kenny interrupted as he threw his backpack in the back. "I wanna see if we can actually pull this off."

The rest of you hesitated but eventually climbed into the van one by one. The inside was even worse, barely breathable air, carrying the smell of sweat, and seats covered in mysterious stains that no one wanted to identify.

"It smells like ass." Clyde stuck out his tongue, pinching his nose.

"This is disgusting." You mumbled as you took a seat near the back.

"Disgusting but functional." Cartman replied as he dropped into the driver's seat.

"You're not seriously the one driving, are you?" Kyle asked, eyeing Cartman up and down.

"Uh, yeah, who else is going to drive?"

"Literally anyone else." Craig cut in, raising his hand.

Cartman ignored him as he turned the key, starting the engine, which, by the way, sounded like it would break down any moment.

"Didn't you say Craig was gonna drive?" Clyde, who was seated in the passenger's seat, asked hesitantly.

"Nope. Don't remember ever saying that." Cartman replied, barely moving the van an inch.

You ended up next to Tweek, who was already fidgeting with the strap of his bag. His eyes scanned the van like he expected a ghost to pop up from the shadows.

"You good?" You asked, leaning slightly toward him.

"Y-Yeah." He nodded quickly, though his jumpy movements suggested otherwise.

"Well at least the van hasn't exploded yet. That's a good sign, right?" You gave him a small smile.

"I guess. But this thing smells like a gym locker." He chuckled, his shoulder relaxing a bit.

"You're not wrong..." You nodded, trying to hold your breath. "Let's just hope the drive isn't too long."

From the front, Cartman banged his fist on the steering wheel. "Can you idiots shut up for five seconds?! I'm trying to focus!"

"You're trying to focus on driving two miles an hour?" Kyle shot back.

"It's called being cautious you fucking bitch!" Cartman defended himself.

"It's called being a terrible driver." Craig muttered, earning a snicker from Kenny.

"Why don't you go flip off a tree or something?" Cartman snapped, glaring at him through the rearview mirror.

Craig responded by slowly raising his middle finger.

As the van crept out of town and onto the road leading to the DeLacroix mansion, the air began to shift. The sun was slowly lowering on the sky, causing long shadows across the pavement. Trees lined both sides of the road, their branches twisting up in the orange sky as they gently swayed in the wind.

"This road is creepy as hell." Kenny pointed out, gazing out the window.

"Perfect setting for a haunted mansion." Clyde added, his voice touched with nervous excitement.

"Or for us to get murdered." You muttered, making Tweek's grip on his thighs tighten.

"Relax! Nothing's going to happen. Ghosts aren't real, remember?" Cartman replied, though his hold on the steering wheel tightened.

"That's not what you said when you were charging $200." Stan pointed out.

"That's called marketing." Cartman shot back smugly. "You wouldn't understand."

The road hit a bump, making everyone jump out of their places.

"Careful, fatass!" Kyle shouted, grabbing onto Kenny who was beside him, holding onto his shoulder to secure himself in his seat.

"Don't like my walking? Get out and walk you fucking asshole!" Cartman snapped, turning around to glare at you all.

‘ Of course that idiot wasn't wearing a seatbelt... ’

"No one's walking." You spoke up, cutting off the argument before it could escalate. "Let's just focus on getting there in one piece."

Tweek shifted uncomfortably beside you, his knee bouncing nervously. You reached out and gave his arm a light tap, grabbing his attention.

"Hey, we'll be fine." You assured, keeping your tone casual. "Worst case scenario, we get there, find out it's just some creaky floorboards and call it a day."

He nodded slowly, the corners of his lips tugging upwards and forming a shy smile. "Yeah... Yeah, you're probably right."

"Of course I'm right, I'm always right." You smirked, and Tweek was sure you could hear his heartbeat.

"Aw, look at that!" Clyde teased from the front of the van, smirking as he was turned to fully look at you.

‘ Another idiot who didn't wear seatbelts... ’

"Tweek's got a little bodyguard!"

"Keep talking like that and I won't hesitate throwing you out the van." You warned him, your smirk fading away.

"Try it. I'll land on my feet."

"Can we stop fucking flirting and focus?" Cartman snapped, glaring at everyone in the rearview mirror. "We've got a job to do, assholes!"

"You're the only asshole here..." You muttered quietly.

"Maybe that's why it smells like ass." Craig added, earning a snicker from Stan.

The van shook along the lonely and bumpy road, the engine groaning with every turn of the wheels. The sun was slowly setting in, the once orange and pink sky darkening.

"Hey, uh... This thing is making weird noise." Stan pointed out.

"That's just the sound of your whining." Cartman shot back, his tone sarcastic.

"No, seriously." You spoke up, trying to glance at Cartman in the rearview mirror. "It's been getting louder for the last mile. Do you even know how to drive this thing?"

"Of course I know how to drive!" Cartman shouted, puffing out his chest. "I'm a naturally born leader. Driving's part of the package, asshole!"

"Leader of what? The loser unit?" Craig snorted.

Before Cartman could fire back and insult him, the van gave a violent shake. Everyone lunged forward as it came to an abrupt stop. The engine faltering as it made loud, roaring sounds before going completely silent.

"You've got to be kidding me." Kyle groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What happened?" Kenny asked as he looked around.

Cartman angrily twisted the key, but the engine only made clicking noises in response. "What the hell?!"

"I think your piece of crap van just died." Clyde pointed the obvious, earning a glare from Cartman.

"Shut up, you don't know anything about cars dumbass!" He yelled, practically shaking aggressively in his seat.

"And you do?" Stan raised an eyebrow, only making Cartman's face grow a darker shade of red from frustration.

"I know more than you!" Cartman shouted, slapping the steering wheel.

...

As you all piled out of the van, the reality of your situation started to sink in. The road stretched endlessly in both directions, and to add to the creepiness, the crickets started chirping as the sun lowered.

"This is bad..." Tweek muttered, clutching his bag tightly. "This is really bad..."

"It's fine." You assured him quickly, although your voice was a bit too loud to be entirely convincing. "We'll just figure it out, no big deal."

"No big deal?! We're stranded in the middle of nowhere! What if something's out there?!" Tweek glanced at you, eyes wide as his whole body trembled.

"There's nothing out there." You placed your hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch. Your gaze flickered nervously toward the dark trees. "Probably just squirrels or something..."

"Squirrels don't make weird noises at night..." He muttered, his voice shaky as he struggled to keep still.

Craig, standing a few feet away, sighed as he interrupted. "Relax. The only dangerous thing out here is Cartman's driving."

"Hey, screw you asshole!" Cartman barked loudly.

Ignoring him, your hand that was on Tweek's shoulder slowly trailed down to his arm, holding it, trying to steady him. "Look, we'll figure it out, okay? We're not gonna be stuck here forever."

"A-Alright... If you say so." Tweek nodded hesitantly, his breathing slowing a little.

For a moment, you felt pride knowing you managed to calm him down a bit. But then the stillness of the road, the sinister silence, the darkening sky... It was starting to creep you out. Before you knew it, the panic you've kept holding in all this time came rushing in.

"What if we are stuck here?" You blurted out quietly, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. "What if no one finds us? What if-"

You felt a hand on your shoulder, the gentle gesture catching you off guard. You almost screamed, but you turned around before you did. You found Craig standing beside you, his usual bored expression replaced with a softer one.

"It's alright." He said simply, his voice low and steady.

You blinked at him, caught off guard.

"You're freaking yourself out." He added, his monotone voice oddly comforting. "It's not helping."

"I know that." You muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Then calm down. We'll figure it out." He shrugged.

Despite his bluntness, his words seemed to make your heart race. You took a deep breath.

Cartman was pacing back and forth beside the van, muttering under his breath. "This is a disaster! A complete disaster! My mom's gonna get upset!"

"You mean because you stole her credit card?" Kyle asked dryly.

"Shut up you Jew!" Cartman snapped.

Stan kneeled down to check under the van, using one of Cartman's almost out of battery flashlights to light up the underside. "Looks like something's leaking." He pointed out, frowning.

"Oil?" Kenny asked, crouching beside him.

"Maybe. I'm not a mechanic."

"Well does anyone know how to fix it?" Clyde questioned, looking around hopefully.

You all glanced at each other, standing in complete silence other than the chirping crickets.

"Nope." Craig answered bluntly.

"Great." Kyle muttered, running a hand down his face. "Just great."

...

With no immediate solution, you all settled into an uneasy silence. Cartman sulked by the driver's door, muttering about how unfair the universe was. Stan and Kyle debated whether they should try to call for help, although they doubted anyone would come this far out. Tweek leaned on a rock near the edge of the road, his knee bouncing nervously.

You sat down beside him, staring at the van and the rest of the group, who were arguing like crazy. You still felt a little nervous, despite Craig's attempt at calming you down earlier. "How you holding up?" You asked.

"Better." Tweek admitted, though his voice was still shaky. "But this sucks."

"Yeah... It really does." You agreed.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, watching the sky change from orange and pink to a depressing gray. Despite your situation, there was something oddly peaceful about the quiet.

"Thanks for earlier." Tweek mumbled suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

"For what?" You glanced at him, surprised.

"For, you know... Helping me calm down." He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "That was pretty nice of you..."

You felt your cheeks warm up, but you quickly brushed it off. "Well, you've got my back too, right?"

Tweek smiled, the corners of his mouth twisting up in a way that made your heart skip a beat. "Yeah. Always."

You all gathered around the front of the van, flashlights in hand. The hood was popped open, revealing the engine that looked like it hasn't been properly maintained in decades.

Stan squinted at the mess, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, so... What exactly are we looking at here?"

"An engine." Craig replied, arms crossed.

"Yeah, thanks, genius." Kyle muttered, rolling his eyes. He leaned closer, frowning at the faint puddle forming beneath the van. "Something's definitely leaking."

"Maybe it's ghost juice." Cartman suggested, snickering at his own joke.

"No one asked you." Kyle snapped, shining his flashlight on the engine.

You sighed, leaning against the side of the van. "So... Does anyone actually know what they're doing?"

Everyone exchanged awkward glances, shrugging at each other.

"Not a clue." Clyde admitted.

"Fantastic." You muttered, your palm coming in contact with your forehead.

"I've seen my dad fix stuff like this before." Stan spoke up, though his tone wasn't exactly confident. "But we need tools."

"Tools?!" Cartman exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "What do you think this is, a Home Depot?! Where are we supposed to get tools in the middle of nowhere?!"

...

"So, what's the plan?" Clyde asked, leaning against the van.

"Plan?" Cartman scoffed. "The plan is you idiots fix the van while I supervise."

"Yeah, that's not happening." Kyle dismissed flatly.

"Wait..." Tweek spoke up, his voice slightly hesitant. "Does anyone have duct tape?"

You turned to him, furrowing your brows together. "What for?"

"Well..." He started, shifting nervously under everyone's gaze. "If it's just a leak, maybe we can patch it up enough to get moving again?"

"That... Actually might work." Stan nodded slowly.

"Great idea!" You praised, smiling at him.

Tweek blinked, his face turning a faint shade of pink. "Uh, thanks..."

"Fine. Who's got tape?" Cartman groaned.

...

After a bit of rummaging, you all managed to find duct tape in Kenny's backpack. You wouldn't dare ask why he had that on him, and it would be better if you didn't.

"This is ridiculous." Craig muttered, watching as Stan and Kyle debated the best way to 'fix' the leak.

"Do you have a better idea?" You asked, raising a brow.

"No. But this still feels stupid." He shrugged.

"Stupid or not, it's all we've got." Stan interrupted, crouching beside the van. "Alright, someone hand me the tape."

Kenny passed the roll as the rest of you watched Stan carefully tape over the leaking spot. "This should hold for a little while. Hopefully."

"Hopefully?!" Cartman exclaimed. "That's the best you've got?!"

"Unless you want to get under there and fix it yourself, yes." Stan shot back.

As Stan finished his makeshift repair, you leaned back against the van, glancing at Tweek. "I didn't expect you to figure out a solution."

"What do you mean?" Tweek tilted his head to the side, confused.

"I mean, that was a pretty great idea. You're full of surprises, huh?" You smiled, nodding towards the engine.

"I just... Didn't want to be stuck here all night." He replied nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as a smile tugged at his lips.

"Well, great job." You muttered.

Tweek chuckled, his usual nervousness temporarily forgotten. "Thanks."

"Alright!" Cartman shouted, clapping his hands. "Is this thing fixed or what?"

"Fixed enough." Stan replied, standing up and dusting off his hands. "But we should probably get moving before it gives out again."

"Great." Cartman said, already climbing into the driver's seat. "Get in, assholes!"

...

You all piled back in the van, the air still tense but slightly more hopeful. The engine came to life as the van moved forward, resuming its journey down the dark, lonely road.

"See? I told you we'd fix it." Cartman bragged, a smug grin on his face.

"You didn't do anything." Kyle pointed out.

"I supervised." Cartman shot back. "That's the most important part of any operation." His words earned a middle finger from Craig, which he of course, didn't ignore.

The van came to a stop just outside the towering DeLacroix mansion, and the sight alone was enough to make everyone fall silent. The place looked like it had been ripped straight out of a gothic horror movie. The iron gates creaked as they swung inward, revealing a front lawn with trimmed edges and a path of cobblestone leading to the massive double doors of the mansion. It looked and sounded like hell. No, seriously. The hinges of the gates screeched like tortured souls.

"Wow. They weren't kidding when they said they were loaded." Stan let out a low whistle.

Craig crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Looks like something out of a vampire movie. I'm expecting Dracula to pop up any second."

"This house is awesome!" Kenny beamed, his face lighting up. "It's like something out of those haunted mansion tours!"

"Yeah, well, it's probably just a glorified dust trap." Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets. "Rich people are weird..."

Cartman turned to glare at Kyle, pointing his thumb toward the mansion. "Rich people are our clients you fucking asshole! Now shut the fuck up and try not to embarrass me."

"Embarrass you?" Kyle snorted. "That's rich coming from the guy who got us abducted by aliens yet they still sent us back to Earth because of you."

"Okay now you're pushing it!" Cartman interrupted. "Face it, you're embarrassing all of us."

"Fuck you, fatass!"

Cartman ignored him, puffing out his chest and leading the group up the cobblestone path as if he was the CEO of some multimillion dollar ghost hunting operation.

Before anyone could knock, the heavy front doors creaked open as an elderly woman stepped out onto the grand porch. She was dressed elegantly in a deep emerald gown, her pearl necklace glinting in the fading sunlight. Her husband followed close behind. His tailored suit looked expensive, and his sharp features carried the kind of sterness that could make anyone feel like a misbehaving child.

The woman's eyes scanned you all, her expression both relieved and suspicious. "Oh, thank goodness you're here!" She exclaimed, her voice trembling as she hurried down the steps. "You have no idea how much time we have been waiting for a certain individual to assist us!"

The old man, however, was less excited. He frowned, scanning the group. "You're the ghost hunters?" He asked, his tone doubtful as he eyed you all. "You all look... Very young."

"Thanks, I moisturize." Craig spoke up.

Cartman stepped forward, giving Craig a glare before plastering a fake smile onto his face. "Youthfulness is what makes us the best in business." He replied, his tone was supposed to sound professional, but came off more like a used car salesman.

The old man remained unconvinced, his eyes narrowing as if he were searching for a hidden adult supervisor. "Are you even qualified for this?"

"Qualified?" Cartman repeated, placing a hand on his chest as if he was personally offended. "Sir, we're professionals. We've been in the business for years! Licensed, insured, you name it!"

"Insured against what? Getting caught in your lies?" Kyle muttered under his breath.

Cartman shot him a warning glare before turning back to the couple. "Now, why don't you tell us exactly what's going on, and we're gonna take care of it faster than you can say 'check, please'!"

The woman squeezed her own hands, glancing nervously at her husband before speaking. "It's been terrible. Absolutely terrible. Every night, we hear whispers in the halls. Sometimes it's a woman singing... So soft and yet so haunting... It feels like it's coming from nowhere and everywhere at once."

"And the doors." The old man added, adjusting his tie. "They slam shut on their own. Sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes when we're standing right there. It's like we're not welcome in our own home."

"Maybe it's just bad hinges or the wind?" Keny tilted his head to the side.

The woman shot him a sharp look. "Does the wind whisper your name?"

"Depends on how much I've had to drink." Kenny muttered, earning a snicker from Craig.

The man's frown deepened. "This isn't a joke. Whatever is in that house... It isn't natural. And it's just getting worse."

"Don't worry, sir, ma'am." Cartman stepped forward with false confidence. "You called the right team. We've handled cases way scarier than this."

"Name one." Kyle challenged, crossing his arms.

Cartman ignored him, turning his attention back to the couple. "Now, let's talk about payment. We'll need half upfront for, uh, operational costs."

The woman's brows furrowed together. "Operational costs?"

"Yeah." Cartman replied smoothly. "You know, equipment, transportation, ghost insurance..."

"Ghost insurance?" The old man repeated, raising one of his bushy eyebrows.

"It's standard practice." Cartman said, waving off their confusion. "Ghost hunting is dangerous work. There's always a risk of possession, attacks, or ectoplasmic goo. We can't exactly do this for free, can we?"

"Oh my God Cartman, stop scamming people." Stan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Scamming people?" Cartman repeated, acting offended. Technically, he was. "This is a legitimate business transaction. Now, if you're done interrupting, let the professionals handle this."

The woman sighed, clearly too exhausted to argue. She reached into her purse, pulling out a checkbook. "Fine. You'll get $100 now and the rest when the job is done."

"Pleasure doing business with you." Cartman smirked, snatching the check before anyone else could.

The man gestured toward the house, his expression grumpy. "Do whatever you need to. Just get rid of it."

Cartman turned to the rest of you, clapping his hands together. "Alright assholes, you heard the man! Gear up and get to work!"

Craig rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to flip Cartman off. "I'm only doing this because I need the money."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Cartman waved him off. "Now let's get moving! Time is money!"

As you all started gathering your 'equipment', you exchanged a glance with Tweek, who was fidgeting nervously.

"Come on, I'm sure it's fine." You cut through the silence, making Tweek flinch.

"Y-Yeah, I'm sure it's alright... But this place gives me goosebumps..." He replied, his voice shaky as his eyes darted everywhere.

"We can use Cartman as a shield." You shrugged, looking over your shoulder to see Cartman shouting at everyone.

Tweek chuckled, his shoulder relaxing a bit. "I-If it's an actual ghost, I'm running back to the van and leaving without the rest of you."

"You're leaving me behind?" You raised your brows, gasping dramatically.

"I'll take you with me." Tweek shrugged, the corners of his lips tugging upwards and forming a shy smile.

You could feel your pulse quickening, but you chose to ignore the feeling and hurry up, since Cartman was already fuming.

...

The old woman held the door open as you all stumbled inside, the creak of the heavy wooden door echoing around the mansion. The interior of the DeLacroix mansion was just as massive as the exterior, if not more so. A huge chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its crystals catching the light from the several candles on numerous shelves. The walls were lined with dark wood, and a thick red rug stretched across the polished floor. Everything about the place screamed wealth, but there was something... Off about it.

You couldn't put your finger on it. Maybe it was the faint mouldy smell, or the way the shadows seemed to stretch a little too far.

"Well..." The old woman started, folding her hands in front of her. "We'll let you get to it. My husband and I will be in the kitchen if you need anything."

"Tea." The old man added, narrowing his eyes as they scanned over the group once more. "We'll be making tea. And don't think for a second we won't notice if something goes missing."

"Sir." Cartman started, putting a hand to his chest. "I'll have you know that we run a very professional operation. Stealing? That's beneath us."

"Uh-huh." The old man replied, his tone still doubtful as he ran his eyes across you all with a suspicious look. He turned to his wife. "Come on, let's leave them to it before I change my mind."

As the couple disappeared down the hall, Cartman turned back to you all, his fake professional demeanor dropping in an instant. "Alright, listen up fuckers. Rule number one, nobody wanders off alone. Got it?"

"What are we, five?" Craig raised an eyebrow.

"No!" Cartman snapped. "But you all have the attention span of toddlers, and I'm not gonna lose my $200 payday because one of you morons gets lost or spooked and runs screaming out the door."

"Oh, please. Nobody here actually believes in ghosts. Right?" Kyle crossed his arms.

"I don't know, dude. Places like these always have weird vibes." Kenny shrugged.

Tweek shivered, glancing around nervously. "I mean... It's just a house, right? A really big, creepy, probably haunted house, but still... Just a house."

"Exactly." You cut in, offering him a reassuring look. "There's nothing to be scared of."

Before anyone could respond, a loud SLAM echoed through the mansion. The sound came from the second floor, sharp and intentional, like someone had thrown a door shut with all their strength.

Everyone froze, exchanging uneasy glances.

"Uh... What was that?" Stan asked, his voice low.

Cartman let out a nervous laugh. "Probably the wind. Or, you know, old houses make weird noises all the time!"

"Yeah, sure." Kyle muttered. "Because the wind totally sounds like a fucking door being slammed shut."

"Great plan, genius." Craig interrupted, looking at Cartman. "Let's all just split up already and investigate the creepy murder mansion."

"We're not splitting up!" Cartman snapped. "Were you not listening five seconds ago? We stick together and do this room by room. Now shut up and follow my lead."

"Your lead?" Kyle scoffed. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

"Would you just shut your damn Jew mouth and grab your flashlight?" Cartman shot back, ready stomping toward the huge staircase.

As the rest of you followed, the harsh silence of the mansion seemed to press in from all sides. The only sounds were the creak of the floorboard beneath your feet and the occasional drip of water from God knows where.

You glanced at Tweek, who was clutching his flashlight as if his life depended on it. "You look scared. Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" He replied, his voice toi high pitched to be convincing. "Totally fine. Just, uh... Keeping an eye out for... Y-You know, ghost stuff..."

"You sound just like Cartman." You pointed out, which made Tweek shoot you a glare.

"Don't compare me to that fatass." He mumbled under his breath.

"Yeah, I probably shouldn't." You shrugged, continuing to step beside him.

Tweek's eyes darted around, examining the place. "That slam... It was definitely the wind..." His hands trembled as his grip tightened on his flashlight.

You couldn't help but smile at his attempt to convince himself. "Right. The wind. Because the wind definitely has the power to slam a door with enough force to rattle the whole house."

Tweek groaned, running a hand through his hair and fighting the urge to pull on it. "Okay, fine, i-it was weird. But it's probably nothing. Probably..."

"Exactly." You agreed, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "No need to panic. Not yet, anyway."

As you reached the top of the stairs, Cartman stopped abruptly, causing everyone to nearly collide into each other.

"Alright." Cartman started, pointing toward the hallway ahead. "Here's the plan, we check each room, starting from the left, and work our way down. Got it?"

"Who died and made you boss?" Stan muttered.

"My superior intellect did!" Cartman shot back. "Now shut up and start looking."

The first few rooms were uneventful. A guest bedroom with dusty furniture, a study filled with old books and strange ornaments and a bathroom with a cracked mirror. Everything looked like it hadn't been touched in years, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"See?" Kyle said as he gestured to the very normal surroundings. "Nothing spooky. Just a big, creepy old house."

"Yeah, because ghosts totally introduce themselves on the first time." Kenny teased.

As you passed what appeared to be another bedroom, something on the nightstand caught your eye. It was a small, golden music box. You almost entered the room, sitting right by the door. You wanted to reach out and touch it, but before you could even fully step inside, Cartman's voice cut through.

"Don't touch anything!" He barked, making you jump.

"What? Why not?" You questioned, turning to glare at him, stepping away from the door.

"Because." He started, puffing out his chest. "This is a delicate operation. We can't have you breaking stuff and getting us kicked out before we get paid."

"Or..." Craig interrupted. "Maybe he's just scared you'll unleash a ghost or something."

"Shut up, crooked teeth!" Cartman shot him a dirty look.

"I had braces you fucking fatass." Craig shouted, yet somehow his voice was still monotone.

"Well maybe you should consider getting them again!"

Before anyone could argue further, another door slammed somewhere in the house, but this time it was much closer.

"Okay, that's it!" Tweek spoke up, his voice shaking. "I don't care i-if it's the wind or a fucking ghost, I-I don't like this!"

"Relax." You replied, trying to sound calm even if your pulse quickened. "It's probably just... I don't know, the house settling or something."

"Sure." Kyle interrupted sarcastically. "Because houses totally 'settle' by slamming door randomly."

Cartman turned to the group, his face slightly pale but his voice firm. "Alright, new rule, nobody touches anything unless I say so. Got it?"

"Just lead us to the next boring room so we can get this over with." Craig rolled his eyes.

As Cartman reluctantly led the group out of the bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you.

You all stood in the barely lit hallway of the second floor, the air heavy with the scent of old wood and dust. The mansion's silence was brutal, broken only by the faint creaks and groans of the house settling. Several doors lined the hall, their chipped paint adding to the unsettling vibe.

Cartman pointed to the nearest door, puffing out his chest like he was a drill sergeant. "Alright pussies, we're hitting this room next. Be ready for anything."

"Yeah, like the world's most haunted dust collection. Can we just get this over with?" Kyle sighed, crossing his arms.

"Don't be such a fucking buzz kill!" Cartman snapped. "This is serious business."

Before anyone could respond, a faint whispering sound drifted through the hallway.

"D-Do you guys h-hear that...?" Tweek asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes darted around, his grip tightened on his flashlight.

"Stop messing around." Kyle glared at Cartman, his tome stern. "It's obviously you trying to scare everyone."

"Me?!" Cartman yelled out, clearly offended. "I'm not wasting my energy on scaring you losers. I've got $200 on the line here!"

The whispering grew louder, clearer nos, although the words were impossible to make out. It was like a dozen voices overlapping, murmuring in a language none of them recognized.

"Okay, who's doing that?" Stan asked, his voice shaky. He glanced over his shoulder, his flashlight beam darting across the empty hallway.

"It's not me." Kenny said as he stepped closer to the rest of you. "That's creepy as hell..."

"Very funny, Cartman." Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice sounding irritated. "You can cut it out now."

"For the last time, it's not me!" Cartman practically hissed.

The whispering came to a sudden stop, leaving a sinister silence in its place.

"See?" Craig broke the silence flatly, flipping Cartman off. "This is why I don't do this stupid ghost hunting crap. It's always the handsome guy who gets killed first in horror movies."

"Oh, please." Clyde interrupted, his voice slightly trembling. "If anyone's dying first, it's probably me. I'm the perfect victim for a true crime documentary."

"Shut up, Clyde!" Cartman shouted, but his voice sounded nervous.

Before anyone could laugh or argue, the overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then went out completely.

"Holy shit!" Tweek yelped, grabbing onto your arm.

"What the hell just happened?" Kyle asked, his voice tense.

The hallway was swallowed by darkness, the only source of light coming from the faint beam of your flashlights. Then came the sound of floorboards creaking, slow and careful, as if someone or something was walking toward you.

"Who's there?" Stan called out, his voice cracking.

No one answered, but the sound grew louder and closer. Then, soft singing began to echo through the hallway.

It was a woman's voice, melodic and haunting, the kind of sound that made your stomach drop and skin crawl. The song was low, the words incoherent but the tone sorrowful.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..." Tweek muttered under his breath, his nails digging into your arm.

You tried to say something reassuring, but the words stuck in your throat. Your flashlight beam darted around the hallway, revealing nothing but empty space.

"This... Isn't funny." Kenny spoke up, his usual tone replaced by genuine fear.

"Okay, everyone stay calm." Cartman said, trying to sound reassuring and professional but failing miserably. "It's just... It's probably just... Uh..."

"Yeah, fatass." Kyle snapped. "What's your brilliant explanation for this one?"

Before Cartman could answer, the singing stopped as suddenly as if had started, and the lights flickered back on.

You all stood frozen, your breaths coming out in short, shaky gasps.

"What the actual hell was that?" Stan asked, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know." You admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll tell you what it was." Cartman straightened up, trying to regain his composure. "It was nothing. You guys are just freaking yourselves out for no reason."

"Nothing?" Kyle repeated, his eyes wide. "The lights went out, we heard footsteps and singing, and you're calling that nothing?"

"Yeah." Cartman nodded, crossing his arms. "Because ghosts aren't real. And even if they were, they're not screwing up my $200 payday. So, suck it up and get back to work!"

"Screw this." Craig cut in sharply, turning toward the stairs. "I'm out. I've seen enough movies to know where this is going, and I'm not sticking around to be ghost bait."

"Oh, great idea, Craig." Cartman scowled. "Run off and leave the rest of us to deal with it."

"You're acting like I care." Craig replied, flipping Cartman off again. "Have fun getting haunted."

"Wait for me!" Clyde rushed by Craig's side. "I am not dying in some cursed mansion. Do you know how many unsolved mystery podcasts start like this?"

"Come on, we can't just bail. We don't even know what's going on yet." You tried to convince them, voice shaky. If you were honest, you were only doing that so you could push them into whatever's chasing you, just to buy you time.

"Exactly!" Cartman pointed at you. "Finally, someone with some common sense!"

Tweek glanced at you, his voice barely above a whisper. "You really think we should stay?"

You hesitated for a moment before nodding, even if you weren't entirely sure yourself.

‘ They can probably run faster than you... At least there's Cartman. ’

"We've come this far. We might as well see it through." You shrugged, hoping they'd listen.

Stan sighed, his eyes narrowing. "Fine. But if another light goes out, I'm seriously done."

Kyle gave you a long look, his expression unreadable. "You sure about this?"

No, you weren't sure. Not at all. But you forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Let's keep going."

Cartman clapped his hands together, a fake grin plastered on his face. "See? Teamwork makes the dream work! Now let's move it assholes!"

As you all reluctantly followed Cartman further down the hallway, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you.

And whatever it was, it didn't feel friendly.

You all lazily stood in the hallway for a moment longer, still shook after the sinister singing and flickering lights. The harsh silence of the house pressed down on you, and even Cartman's usual ramble seemed muted.

Stan broke the silence with a half hearted chuckle. "Okay, seriously, what kind of ghost sings? Is this like... Phantom of the Opera?"

"Yeah, maybe she's just auditioning for Broadway." Kenny snorted.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Yeah, laugh it up, you pussies. Meanwhile, I'm trying to stay professional so we can get paid."

"Professional?" Craig repeated, his monotone voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've been sweating like shit and yelling at everyone since we got here."

"Shut the fuck up!" Cartman snapped. "Not everyone can be a soulless robot like you!"

Craig gave him the middle finger without even looking, his gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling. "Whatever."

Tweek tugged at the collar of his shirt, his shoulders tense. "Can we just move on? Standing in the hallway is making my skin crawl."

"Yeah." You agreed, glancing toward one of the nearby bedroom doors. "Let's check that one out. Maybe we'll find something useful."

"Or maybe we'll find more dust and spiders." Kyle muttered, though he followed you toward the door.

You all walked into the room cautiously, you flashlights darting across the space. It was a large bedroom, clearly once belonging to someone with expensive taste. The bed was massive, covered in faded sheets, the walls lined with mirrors. A heavy wardrobe stood in one corner, its doors slightly opened, a layer of dust coating every surface.

"This is... Creepy." Kenny whispered, shining his light on one of the dusty mirrors.

"Yeah, no thanks." Stan added. "This place screams tetanus."

Clyde, who has been quiet all this time, suddenly let out a blood curdling scream.

"What?!" Cartman shouted, spinning around.

"There's something on me! There's something on me!" Clyde screeched, flailing his arms wildly.

A large spider crawled up his sleeve, its legs moving across the fabric. Clyde's face went pale as he bolted across the room, swatting at himself like he was actually possessed.

"Get it off! Get it off!" He cried out.

"Dude, stop moving!" Stan yelled, trying to grab his arm.

"Hold still, idiot!" You added, but Clyde wasn't listening.

He stumbled into the wardrobe, rattling it loudly and sending a cloud of dust into the air. The spider, unfazed by the commotion, crawled onto Clyde's shoulder.

"Oh my God, it's still there!" Clyde whined, spinning in circles.

Kenny stepped forward, holding his flashlight like a weapon. "Calm down, I'll get it!"

Before anyone could do anything else, Clyde smacked his own shoulder with enough force to knock the spider to the ground. It ran away quickly, disappearing under the bed.

"There!" Clyde gasped, attempting to calm himself down as he clutched his chest. "It's gone! It's gone!"

"You're such a baby." Cartman smirked. "It was just a spider."

"Yeah, well I didn't see you rushing to help." Clyde shot back, his face still pale.

"Wait." You interrupted, pointing toward the door. "Did anyone else hear that?"

The room fell silent, everyone going quiet to listen. The it came, a faint creak, followed by the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut.

"Holy shit!" Tweek yelped, his eyes wide.

Kenny ran to the door, twisting the knob. "It's not locked." He let out a breath of relief. "But what the hell shut it?"

"Maybe the wind?" Stan sugested, though he didn't sound convinced.

"Yeah, definitely." Craig rolled his eyes, leaning on the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets. "The wind. In a house with no open windows. Makes total sense."

"Okay Mr. Unfazed, then what's your brilliant explanation?" Cartman snapped.

"Ghosts." Craig answered flatly. "Obviously."

"Ghosts aren't real." Kyle sighed, knowing damn well that he was just trying to calm himself down. "We've been over this."

"Then why are you sweating?" Craig shot back, a rare smirk on his face.

Kyle glared at him, but didn't respond.

"Can we please just investigate and get out of here?" You spoke up, breaking the tension.

The group hesitantly agreed, spreading around to search the room. Cartman stayed near the door, muttering to himself about 'stupid amateurs ruining his paycheck', while the rest of you examined the furniture and walls.

As you ran your flashlight along the far wall, you heard a faint knocking sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

"Did you guys hear that?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hear what?" Stan asked, looking up from the dresser he was investigating.

The knocking came again, this time louder.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"It's coming from the next room." Tweek noted, his voice trembling.

"Great." Clyde muttered. "More creepy noises. Just what we needed..."

Then, faint but unmistakable, came the sound of singing.

It was the same voice from before, soft and melodic, the kind of sound that made you shiver.

"Okay, nope." Clyde shook his head, backing toward the door. "I'm officially done. Screw this!"

"You're not leaving!" Cartman snapped, blocking the exit. "I don't care how scared you are. We're staying until we figure this out."

"Easy for you to say." Stan muttered. "You get to stay far away from the sound. You're not the one who has to listen to this creepy ass singing!"

You all fell silent again, the singing growing louder. It seemed to echo through the walls, wrapping around you like a cold but invisible hand.

"Alright..." Kyle broke the silence, his shoulders tense. "Let's just finish checking this room and move on. The faster we're done, the faster we can leave."

You nodded, though your hands were shaking slightly. You continued your search, but the tension in the room was evident and uneasy, every creak and whisper sending chills down your spine.

The hallway leading to the next room seemed suspiciously quiet, almost as of the house itself was holding its breath. You all hesitated in front of the door, your flashlights waving around.

"This is the last door on this side." You broke the silence. "Let's get this over with."

Cartman groaned, stepping forward with exaggerated confidence. "Step aside, amateurs. Watch the professional work."

He grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but the door didn't budge. "What the hell?" He grunted, twisting it harder. "It's stuck!"

"Maybe it's locked." Stan suggested, leaning closer.

"It's not locked!" Cartman snapped. "It's just being a piece of shit!"

"Let me try." Kenny offered, stepping forward. Together, the two of them pushed and pulled on the door, but it refused to give.

"Move." Craig warned, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He gave the door a single hard kick, and with a loud creak, it swung open, revealing a barely lit room.

"Damn." You whispered, biting your bottom lip for a quick second as Craig just raised an eyebrow at you.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side." Clyde muttered.

Craig shrugged, his flashlight scanning the room. "You'd have to actually interest me for that to happen."

The rest of you stepped inside cautiously, your flashlights lighting up the room, revealing dust covered furniture and faded wallpaper. The room was large but cluttered, with a table, a tall wardrobe, and a canopy bed draped in pretty curtains. What caught everyone's attention, however, were the framed photos scattered across the room.

"Whoa..." You whispered, picking one of the many pictures up from a shelf. The photo was black and white, the edges yellowed with age.

The woman in the picture looked elegant, her hazel eyes shining even through the faded photograph. A small mole under her left eye added a touch of uniqueness to her already stunning features, and her smile was warm and inviting.

"Is that her?" Tweek asked, leaning over your shoulder to get a better look. "The ghost?"

"Probably." Kyle shrugged, picking up another photo from another shelf. "She looks... Different than what I expected."

"Yeah." Stan agreed. "Not your typical creely ghost lady."

"Don't let the pictures fool you." Kenny informed, smirking. "The nice ones are always the scariest."

Cartman snorted, shoving past everyone to examine the photos himself. "You bitches are so easily impressed. It's just a bunch of old pictures. Big deal."

As if on cue, a soft melody began playing from the corner of the room. Everyone froze in their spot.

"What the hell is that?" Clyde whispered, his voice trembling.

You turned toward the source of the sound, your flashlight landing on a small, golden box sitting on the nightstand. The same one you so badly wanted to touch earlier. Its lid was open, revealing a delicate ballerina figure spinning slowly to the tune.

"Nope." You sighed immediately, shaking your head. "I am not doing this."

Before anyone could stop you, you marched over to the music box and snapped the lid shut. The melody stopped abruptly, leaving the room silent.

"[Y/N]..." Kyle started, his tone cautious and soft. "Maybe you shouldn't-"

The lights went out.

A harmonized gasp filled the room, followed by the sound of stumbling feet and hurried whispers.

"Who turned off the lights?" Cartman demanded, his voice high pitched with panic.

"No one!" Stan hissed. "Just stay calm-"

A blood curdling scream tore through the darkness, so loud and piercing that it felt like it was coming from inside your own head.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Clyde screamed, practically climbing onto Kenny for protection.

The floorboard beneath you groaned, the heavy and slow footsteps closer. Then came the banging, loud, frantic and relentless, echoing through and off the walls as if the entire house was alive.

"Get me out of here!" Tweek shouted, his voice cracking as he clung to the nearest person, which happened to be you.

"I can't see anything!" Kyle yelled, his flashlight flickering wildly in his hands.

"Move bitches, move your fucking asses!" Cartman screamed, his usual confidence and braveness completely gone.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the chaos stopped. The lights flickered back on as everyone stood frozen, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"Is everyone okay?" Stan asked, his voice shaking.

"I think so..." You mumbled, your hands trembling. "But what the hell was that?"

"Uh... Guys..." Kenny trailed off, his voice unusually serious. "Look at the mirrors."

You turned slowly, your heart thumping in your chest as you took in the sight. Every mirror in the room was cracked, crazy and uneven lines scattered across their surface.

And then you saw her.

She stood near the music box, her once beautiful face twisted into an expression of pure rage. Her white dress was stained with dirt, her hair a tangled mess that hung over her milky white eyes. The pearl necklace from the photos was now dangling loosely around her neck, cracked in several places.

No one spoke. No one even dared to move.

The ghost's gaze scanned over each one of you, her presence suffocating and cold.

"Oh shit..." Clyde whispered, his voice barely audible.

Cartman, of all people, was the fist to completely break the silence. He pointed an accusing finger at you.

"[Y/N], you dumb bitch!" He shouted. "I told you not to touch anything!"

...

Cartman took a cautious step forward, his flashlight flickering as he raised it toward her ghostly figure. His confidence was shaky at best, but he puffed out his chest in a pitiful attempt to seem in control.

"Alright, listen up, you decrepit old hag!" He barked, his voice cracking slightly. "I don't know who you are, but you're messing with licensed professionals here!"

She didn't react, her sinsiter and unblinking gaze fixed on them.

"Cartman, shut up!" Kyle hissed, gripping his flashlight tightly.

"No, no, I've got this!" Cartman insisted, waving a hand dismissively. He turned back to the ghost, narrowing his eyes. "You think you're scary? I've seen scarier things come out of Kenny's microwave! You look like you crawled out of a sewer and then got hit by a truck! What are you, part of the teenage mutant turtles?!"

The lights flickered violently, the room growing colder and more suffocating with each passing second. The ghost's head tilted slightly, her form trembling as if she was barely holding back her anger.

"Dude, stop!" Stan warned, his voice tense.

But Cartman was on a roll. "Oh, what's the matter? Did your ugly little music box break? Is that why you're so pissed off? Newsflash lady, nobody even uses music boxes anymore. Get with the times!"

As he spat out insult after insult, you noticed something. The ghost wasn't moving closer to Cartman despite her obvious anger. Instead, her transparent form seemed to stand close to the music box sitting on the nightstand.

"Wait..." Stan muttered under his breath, his brows furrowed together. "It's the music box, she's guarding it!"

You blinked, glancing between Stan and the ghost. "You think that's what's keeping her there?"

"She's not moving away from the music box, no matter how much Cartman screams at her." Stan whispered. "It has to mean something..."

"Cartman, keep her distracted!" Stan suddenly called out, his mind racing as he pieced together a plan.

Cartman turned, looking both insulted and confused. "Distracted? I'm trying to banish her, dipshit! Do you know how much skill that takes?!"

"Just do it!" Stan snapped.

Cartman huffed but turned back to the ghost. "Oh, so now you're just gonna stare at me like some creepy doll? You think that's intimidating? I've seen scarier things in the mirror every morning! Wait, that doesn't sound right..."

While Cartman continued judging her, Stan crept toward the music box, moving as quietly as he could. The rest of you held your breath, your eyes darting between Stan and the ghost. Her gaze remained locked on Cartman, though her form flickered as if sensing Stand presence near the box.

"Just grab it already!" Clyde whispered harshly.

Stan's hands shook as he reached for the music box. His fingers barely grazed the lid when all of the sudden the ghost's head snapped toward him, her milky white eyes narrowing.

"Shit." Stan gasped, making eye contact with the ghost as he froze completely. "Run!" He shouted, yanking the music box off the nightstand.

The ghost let out another blood curdling scream, the sound so loud and piercing it felt like it was drilling into your skull. The lights flickered wildly, sending the room into bursts of darkness and light.

"Move, bitch!" You yelled, grabbing Clyde's arm and shoving him toward the door.

You all bolted out of the room in a frantic scramble, tripping over each other as you sprinted down the hallway. The walls seemed to shake with the ghost's rage, her screams echoing behind you.

"She's following us!" Tweek cried out, his voice trembling as he clung to you arm.

"Don't look back!" Stan yelled, clutching the music box tightly as he led the rest of you down the stairs.

You all rushed into the hall, nearly knocking over a decorative vase. The kitchen door creaked open slightly, and for a split second, you caught a glimpse of the old couple sipping tea at the table, unaware of the chaos unfolding just a few feet away.

"We're gonna die, and they're drinking fucking tea!" Clyde whined, almost tripping over the rug.

"Shut up and keep running!" Kyle snapped, shoving him toward the front doors.

You all burst into the garden, the cool night air hitting your face like a splash of water. Your eyes darted around wildly, taking in the small graveyard sat at the edge of the property.

"Her grave!" Stan panted, doubling over as he tried to catch his breath. "We need to find her grave!"

The rest of you stared at the rows of headstones, the glow of the moon softly shining on them.

"There's too many of them!" Clyde cried. "We don't even know her name! How are we supposed to-"

"There!" Stan pointed to a headstone near the center, the name 'Mary DeLacroix' carved into the stone. "I saw her name on an open notebook, on the table [Y/N] found the first photo! At least I think that's her!" He panted, barely breathing.

He took a step forward but hesitated, his hands shaking as he held out the music box.

"I can't do it..." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I'll mess it up!"

Stan didn't think, he just threw the music box into your arms. There wasn't much you could say, especially because of the state you were in. You quickly bolted toward Mary's grave.

"Wait, you can't just-" Tweek shouted after you, panicking as he saw you complying instead of throwing the music box into someone else's hands.

The tiny metal gate surrounding the graveyard clattered as you jumped over it, the music box clutched tightly in your hands. Behind you, Mary's screams grew louder, her ghostly form tearing through the garden.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached her grave, nearly tripping over your own feet. Dropping to your knees, you placed the music box gently on top of the headstone, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Please work..." You whispered, your voice trembling. "If it doesn't, I swear I'll posses Stan and jump off a bridge..."

You turned around, seeing Mary's form exactly in front of you, inches away from you, her once beautiful face twisted with rage. Her hands were raised as if she was about to strike, but the miment her eyes landed on the music box, she froze. You swore you've seen this sight in a FNAF game before.

The air around you grew still, the harsh weight of her presence lifting slightly. Mary's angry expression softened, her ghostly form flickering as she reached out toward the music box.

Her fingers grazed it lightly. "Thank you..." She whispered, her voice barely audible.

Before you could respond, her form began to disintegrate, her body breaking apart into specks of light that drifted upward like fireflies. The garden grew silent once more, the only sound being the rustling leaves in the night breeze.

Your shoulders relaxed a bit, still sitting down on the grass, your hands trembling as you tried to catch your breath.

The rest of the group rushed over, their faces a mix of relief and awe.

"Holy shit!" Kyle panted, helping you to your feet. "You actually did it!"

"Damn right she did." Kenny teased, smacking you on the back playfully.

"Nice work..." Tweek added, giving you a shy smile.

Cartman, of course, had to ruin the moment. "Yeah, yeah, great job [Y/N]. But let's not forget who kept that bitch distracted in the first place. If it weren't for me, you'd all be dead!"

Craig flipped him off. "You're welcome, fatass."

Clyde let out a shaky laugh, his hands still trembling. "We're never doing this again, right? Right?"

"Don't bet on it." Kyle muttered, glancing back at the house as he kept his hand on your shoulder.

For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to relax, a small smile tugging at your lips. Mary was gone, and for now, you were safe.

...

You all walked back to the mansion, adrenaline slowly giving away to exhaustion. Tweek clung to you, his eyes darting around nervousness as if expecting Mary to reappear at any moment.

"Holy shit..." Clyde muttered, breaking the silence. "We just... Banished a ghost. Like, an actual, real ghost."

Kyle let out a shaky breath, running a hand down his face. "Yeah, and I'm still trying to process how any of this is real. Ghosts aren't supposed to exist."

"Guess what, Kyle?" Cartman started, his voice smug as he spun around to face the rest of you. "We're officially professional ghost hunters now. You all doubted me, but I just led us through a successful exorcism. So, you're welcome!"

"You didn't do shit." Stan shot back. "All you did was piss her off."

"And distract her!" Cartman added, puffing his chest out. "You think she'd have stood there like an idiot if I wasn't verbally destroying her? Face it, Stan, you're just mad because I'm the brains if this operation."

"Brains?" Craig repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I'd argue you're the ass of this operation." Kenny snickered and nudged Craig's shoulder.

Cartman ignored them, waving a dismissive hand as he marched ahead. "You losers can make all the jokes you want, but when people hear about our success, we're gonna be rolling in cash. And you'll all owe it to me!"

Tweek let out a nervous chuckle. "I still can't believe any of t-this. Like... Ghosts? R-Real ghosts?" He glanced at you, his eyes wide. "Did you hear her say 'thank you' at the end? Or was I just hallucinating?"

"I heard it too. She seemed... Less scary in the end. Almost peaceful." You shrugged, offering him a small smile.

"Nah, I think you're both just schizophrenic." Cartman interrupted.

"Peaceful?" Clyde repeated, his voice still shaky. "She was about to kill us five minutes ago!"

"Yeah, well, maybe that's because Cartman kept calling her Master Splinter or something." You shot back with a grin.

"It was the teenage mutant ninja turtles you fucking bitch! Get it right next time!" Cartman snapped.

He spun on his heel, pointing an accusing finger at you. "And don't act like you didn't touch the music box! If anything, this is all your fault!"

"Yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes. "And who was it that ran straight to her grave and banished her? Oh, right, me."

The tension eased slightly as the mansion came into view. The warm glow of the windows was oddly comforting after the chilling events that had just happened moments ago.

As you stepped inside, the old couple was waiting in the hall, their expressions curious but calm.

"Ah, you're back!" The old woman clasped her hands together. "We were wondering if you left already."

"Left?" Kyle repeated, his eyes wide and voice surprised. "How did you not hear what was happening out there? The screaming? The running? The lights flickering?"

The old man raised an eyebrow, his face wrinkling into a suspicious frown. "Screaming? Flickering lights? What are you talking about?"

Cartman groaned, slapping his forehead. "Of course you didn't hear it. You were too busy sipping tea while we were out there risking our lives!"

The old woman's expression softened, her gaze darting between you all. "Well, whatever happened, it seems you even managed to get rid of her. The house feels... Lighter now. Thank you."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small envelope. "Here's the other $100 we agreed on. And..." She hesitated, glancing at her husband, who nodded reluctantly. "Here's an extra $50 for your trouble. You've truly done us service."

Cartman snatched the envelope before anyone else could, grinning ear to ear. "See? I told you we'd get paid! This is what happens when you follow my lead."

"Dude, you did nothing." Stan crossed his arms.

"Nothing? Nothing?!" Cartman barked, waving the envelope in Stan's face. "Who do you think convinced them to pay us extra? My charisma! My leadership! My-"

"Your massive ego?" Craig interrupted.

"That too." Kenny added with a snicker.

The old couple exchanged a glance, clearly unsure of what to make of your group. "Well..." The old man cleared his throat. "We'll leave you to it. Thank you again for your help."

As they disappeared into the kitchen, Cartman turned to the rest of you, his grin widening. "You guys realize what this means, right? We're gonna be rich. This ghost hunting gig is our ticket to the big league!"

"I don't know if I'd call almost dying a gig." You sighed, shaking your head.

You pushed the heavy wooden doors open, walking outside as the cold night air hit your skin once more. The rest of the group followed along, walking back to your van.

"But it was kinda fun." Clyde admitted, a small smile forming onto his face. "I mean, terrifying, but... Fun?"

"Exactly!" Cartman exclaimed. "This is just the beginning. We're gonna take this town by storm! Ghosts, demons, you name it, we'll hunt it!"

"Please don't tell me you're serious." Kyle groaned.

"Dead serious." Cartman replied bluntly, his expression even more stern now.

Kenny leaned against the side of the van, his hands shoved into his pockets. "So, uh... Raisins?"

★yoyomiko ★miko

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coweye · 5 months ago

Text

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice.

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was.

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot.

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired.

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face.

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her.

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised.

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features.

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully.

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling.

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red.

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man.

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry.

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits.

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie.

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?”

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed.

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping.

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline.

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers.

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted.

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet.

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists.

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.”

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp.

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?”

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form.

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue.

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now. “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-”

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily.

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other.

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion. “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that.

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground.

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind.

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him.

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy.

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you.

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead.

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do.

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip.

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura.

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan.

He’s just Logan.

You bury yourself deeper in his neck.

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut.

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs.

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?”

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you.

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back.

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not.

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue.

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter. He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his.

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist.

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart.

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you.

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close.

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve.

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him.

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him.

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional.

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he.

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth.

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you.

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-”

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you.

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch.

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth.

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast.

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole.

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin.

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it.

He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach.

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin.

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard.

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy.

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you.

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers.

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go.

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does.

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing.

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably.

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down.

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh.

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection.

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again.

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind.

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence.

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched.

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“AGH!” Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you.

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend.

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous. Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands.

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you. Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?”

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously.

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest.

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different.

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours.

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back.

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

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