#i knew what was GOING to happen going into this chapter it's always just a matter of finding the words

[sarah-bear706318]

Chasing Storms and Finding Love. Chapter 3:

Series Summary: When Tyler's baby sister joins him and his team for a season she seems to catch the eye of a certain StormPar member much to her brothers dismay... will she listen listen to her big brother or follow her heart?

Chapter summary: Tyler talks to the rest of the wranglers about the possibility of teaming up with StormPar. Reader goes on her first chase and it doesn't go as she thought it would and Scott gets worried watching the stream and seeing things going south.

Pairing: Scott Miller X fem!reader, Tyler Owens x sister!reader

Warnings: Sneaking around, Pissed off Tyler, Love Struck Scott, ALOTS of kissing, A little age gap, Cussing, Drinking, Storms(duh), Falling in love, Slow burn

@nikkicloudie @papichulo120627

As you walk into the diner you look around trying to find the crew, it doesn't take you long to spot them in a large rounded booth in a back corner. They all seem to have coffee and and are just chatting with each other,waiting for you and Tyler.

"Morning crew" Tyler greets his crew

"Good morning yall" You greet everyone with a small smile

The crew say their good morning and all start scooching over to make room for you and your brother to slide in. You end up in sitting in between your brother and Boone.

You all look over the menu, everything looks so good,y ou see about 15 things you want to order. It's safe to say your mouth was watering. About 10 minutes of looking the waitress is back at the table and taking everyone's orders.

When it's your turn you order the cinnamon roll pancakes and a side of bacon. Once everyone has place their orders the waitress collects all the menus and heads to the back.

"So T what did you want to talk to us about" Boone ask looking over to your brother

"Before I say anything I want yall to keep an open mind and listen to what I have to say before you comment or give an answer" Tyler says looking at his crew, seeing them all nod and promising they would.

"So we know they are predicting this to be the biggest busiest and the longest storm seaon in over 40 years right" he pauses and looks to his crew before continuing.

"So as I was getting coffee for me and Y/n this morning and saw Javi, got to talking and we think it would be a good idea if the wranglers and stormpar to team up for some chases. What does everyone think of that? I'll him no everyone isn't on board."

You kinda tuned out while they were all discussing the partnership. You weren't an official member of the wranglers so even you want the partnership to happen it wasn't up to you, so you sat quietly scrolling through your Instagram.

When the food arrives you place your phone your phone down and dig right in to your pancakes, and they were amazing. So amazing your brother tried to sneak a bite but you just stab him with your fork.

As you are all eating Javi and Scott walk up to the table, and Scotts eyes immediately land on you.

"So Owens your crew on board" Javi ask Tyler.

"Yeah they are as long as they can still film and help after the storm like we always do"

"Yeah that's fine with me what about you Scott?" Javi looks over to Scott who's eyes are still on you. When he doesn't replyJavi nudges his arm. Scott looks away and between your brother and Javi before answering "Yeah that's fine as long as the work isn't affected and we still get the data and you get me in as little as possible"

"Yeah man I film everything so I'll do my best not to get you in to many frames" Boones says to Scott.

Scott nods, and Javi and Tyler set up a time for later that night to sit down and hash everything out. Before they walk away Scott looks over and smiles and bids you a good-bye, you don't see it but you can feel your cheeks heating up as you smile and say bye back.

"Ohhh I think Y/n had a bit of an admirer" Lily says looking at you

"I didn't even know Scott knew how to smile" Dani chimes in.

"That's enough I already told her it's not happening" Tyler looks to his crew then over to you.

"And I already told I'm grown and do as I please big brother" you say to Tyler. "Now are you gonna pay for your little sisters breakfast" You ask with a smile taking a sip of your dr.pepper.

"Yeah yeah I'll pay for ya" Tyler says rolling his eyes waving the waitress over. "You are a pain in my ass you know that right" Tyler says looking over at you. You take a big bite of your pancakes and smile before saying "I know but you love me" and Tyler just rolls his eyes

The waitress comes over and starts asking how the bill is gonna be spilt "I got myself and my sister" Tyler says pointing to you. "Oh sir your sisters meal been taken care" the while table looks around confused before Tyler ask "Who paid for her food?"

"The taller man with the hat that was over here talking to you asked me to put her meal on his bill" Your jaw drops and you know you're blushing hard at this point. Tyler has a look that is a mixture of annoyed and pissed as he hand his card to the waitress to pay for his own food, the rest of the crew are doing their best to hold back their laughs.

Once your outside Tyler goes to his truck and looks at the radar while your eyes scan the parking lot for Scott, you can't believe he paid for your breakfast and you really want to thank him.

"Hey little sister you ok with riding shot gun while wrangling your first tornado, there is a good strong cell over the east come look and put that PhD to work"

You walk over and look at the radar and just as Tyler said the cell to the east is looking very strong and looking to be moving fast, so it shouldn't be more to big of a tornado.

"Hell yeah" you say giving your brother a high five and a big smile.

"OK great, crew get your last bathroom break and drinks we leave in 10" Tyler yells his crew

After using the restroom and paying for yours and Tyler's drinks you walk out of the gas station and run right into someone. You are about to fall when 2 hands catch you. You look up and come face to face with Scotts blues eyes, and you swear you feel your heart stop and the skin on your arms where he is hold you up tingle.

"Oh my gosh Scott I am so sorry I wasn't looking where I was going, are you ok"

"Yeah I'm fine are you ok" Scott says with a smile with his hands on your arms

"I'm fine I promise again im really sorry"

"Please don't apologize no harm done" he says.

You both stand there a few seconds in silence just looking at one another before Scott breaks the silence. "Yall heading to the east"

"Yeah the cell looks promising hopefully everything goes good for my first chase" You look up and Scott can see the hint of fear in your eyes and that makes him worried. After a few seconds you break the silence.

"Oh I wanted to thank you for breakfast that was so sweet of you, but you really didn't have to do that I was going to make my brother pay for it" you laugh and look at the ground. "You're welcome it wasn't a problem at all" Scott says with a smile while chewing his gum. Before you can say anything else you hear your brother yelling your name. You look over and see him standing by his truck with his arms crossed looking very annoyed.

"I guess I better go before he comes over here. I'll see you later?" You ask with a little hope in your voice.

"Yeah I'll see you later, have fun on your first chase, don't get to crazy" Scott says with a smile

"I'll try but you know my brother and his crew" you say with a little laugh as a stray piece hair falls into your face. Before you can move it yourself you feel Scotts hand reach up and brush it behind your ear

"Yeah I do, so do me a favor and be careful sweetheart" Scott says softly with a smile reaching his eyes

"You too" you say with a smile and a face heating up. You walk away still smiling at the nickname and thinking about how he pushed your hair from your face. There was defiantly growing between you and Scott, you could feel it in your soul.

You make it to your brothers truck only to be met with his scowl. "I dont wanna hear it Tyler" you say has you hand your brother his energy drink. Tyler goes to say something but the look on your face makes him decides against it, instead he rolls his eyes and opens the door for you.

As your brother is driving and chatting with Boone in the back seat you are keeping an eye on the radar, and your mind on Scott. You can's stop thinking about the feeling you got when he pushed the stray hair behind your ear, it was a simple yet intimate exchange but it made your heart skip a beat.

You're brought out of your thoughts by your brother saying your name. "Y/n we're about to start the stream you ready for your camera debut" Tyler says looking over to you with a smile. "Ready as I'll ever be" You smile back feeling a bit nerves but excited at the same time. Next thing you know your brother is hitting a button on the camera to start the steam.

"Howdy yall and welcome back. Today is going to be a very special chase because I have joining us is my baby sister Dr. Y/n Owens, yes you heard that right Dr. She just graduated from UT Austin with her PhD in meteorology and is joining us for the season. So everyone say hello to my beautiful baby sister. Tyler turns the camera over to you.

"Hey yall its amazing to be here with my big brother and his crew, I'm so excited for my first up close chase hopefully my brother and Boone dont go wild" You say with a smile and looking at the camera.

Little did you know a certain other chaser tuning in to the stream on his laptop

Scott's POV:

Scotts decides since StormPar is sitting this storm out he'll tune into the Wranglers Stream. He told Javi he was only going to watch it so he can see what they got themselves into by partnering with them, Javi just nodded not believing a thing his friend says just sits down and watches with him

As starts the stream he hears Tyler introduce his sister, he watches as you say hey to the viewers. "Hey yall its amazing to be here with my big brother and his crew, I'm so excited for my first up close chase hopefully my brother and Boone dont to go wild" You say with a smile and looking at the camera. Scott can't help but smile

"Don't go to wild really coming from a former Texas Longhorns cheerleader AND sorority sister who use to live for wild parties" Tyler says with a smirk to his sister

"shut up that was different that was beer pong, keg stands,and cheering on my Longhorns HOOK EM" Y/n says then looks at the camera and hold up the longhorns hand sign. "Not driving into a tornado risking death"

"Man Owens never anything about Y/n being a cheerleader or a sorority girl but both man that's hella hot" Javi says looking at the screen watching the stream, Scott eyes snap to Javi with a look ready to kill. That was his girl(well hes hoping will be his girl) and he didnt like the comment from his partner

They both continue to watch, and Scott has rolled his eyes to many times to count, and lets out an "you have got to be kidding me" as Tyler says something about shooting fireworks into an active tornado. But look in Y/n eyes and the smile on her face makes him smile to himself, she look to be having a great time until her faces changes.

"Damn it the anchors arent deploying" Tyler says

"What the fuck Ty how the hell does that happen fix them now" Scott can hear the fear in your voice

"I'm working on it Y/n, Boone hand me that screw driver i think the trigger is jammed"

"Screw it just hit the gas and drive Tyler i dont feel like dying today"

"Were not gonna die little sis just give me a second"

"Tyler i mean it screw the tornado just dive get away from it"

"Y/n its to close if i drive off that could put us in more danger"

Scott is hearing her argument with her brother, and can see her with your knees to her chest, the truck is shaking and he can see the tornado getting closer. He feels helpless, he just wants to wrap her in his arms and get her out of that truck.

"Got it" he hears Tyler say and Scott lets out a breath he didnt know he was holding.

Y/N POV:

You feel the truck start anchor but you still have your knees to your chest and head down.

"Y/n look up" you hear brother say and you slowly left your head and what you see is completely breath taking. You stare out the window in awe looking at a grey wall twisting around and right in the center you see an opening of blue. You are so fixed on what is going on around you you don't even notice Boone or his camera pointing at you.

Your brother sits watching you with a smile and it reminds him of when you were little and would sit and watch a storm from the porch swing.

When the tornado passes, Tyler opens his door to get out with Boone and his camera hot on his heels. You open your own door and step out watching as the tornado moves away and disappears back into the sky.

"So little sister what did you think of your first time in a tornado"

"That was incredible Ty" you yell and jump on your brothers back laughing, Boone filming you and your brother laughing at how so much alike you bother are.

Tyler turns to the camera, you still on his back "Looks like my baby sister might just use the fancy PhD for storm chasing" he says to the camera. "As long as your truck doesn't malfunction again I just might" you say with a laugh.

Tyler laughs and turns to the camera "Well another chase done join us next time and as always IF YOU FEEL IT" "CHASE IT" you yell before your brother can finish.

[elisiafarias]

My honest opinion of the story expansion (all the good and the bad)

Hi everyone, remember that this is just a personal opinion and it doesn't mean that everyone should have the same opinion.

-I love Cyrax's maturity and his redemption SHE IS SO CUTE 💕.

-One of the things I didn't like was that Cyrax and Kuai Liang were ex-couples, because in the story there was not a single dialogue that touched on that subject, only that they have known each other for years, it is not even mentioned that they were close, if it were not for the dialogues, the fact that Kuai Liang would have killed her if it were not for Harumi who stopped him. They had the whole story to be able to explain it and not even at the end we are given a hint of their past. It literally seems like a poorly made ship by Dominic for nothing more than doing it.

-Something I liked were the faces of my babies

-They changed the sex of Sektor and Cyrax just to ship them with the brothers, Honestly I felt that way, everything was very forced.

-If there's one thing I can't forgive is that Tomas didn't have a single chapter of the story and it appeared only at the beginning, when there could be so many possibilities that he would have a chapter with the theme of the multiverse, or having accompanied Kuai Liang. Also, wasn't he holding back Bi Han and Sektor? They're wasting a character that has potential.

-About Bihan and Sektor, the truth is that I have mixed feelings about this ship. As Kenshi says, they are made for each other. The bad thing about this is that both of them increase their ambition, deep down they cannot redeem themselves. I find it nice how Sektor loves Bihan despite everything that happened, since she is the only person who stayed by his side.

-Tanya and Rain were a really cute couple but they kill rain already ( one of the few couples that I like)

-And this is something UNFORGIVABLE ABOUT BI HAN NOT HAVING BEEN REDEEMED, I mean, they had everything for him to have his redemption arc, however, when he became Noob Saibot they showed him as egocentric as never before and immature. You don't know how angry it made me. The only hope it gave me was that he stayed in the temple of the Elementis, but Sektor took him out, and Bi han asked to stay as he was. Even though his mind remained intact, I still think that something different remained in him.

-And not to mention the final battle against Havick, he was defeated by Bi Han and then Geras froze him, I felt like everything ended suddenly. I thought there was going to be a final battle,This expansion was very short

-Honestly, as always, I loved Liu Kang throughout the story, after everything Bi Han did to him, he still wanted to help him.

-In the end Bi has remained as before but being Noob Saibot

-The story was really weak and quite predictable.

Mi conclusion final;

Dominic had every opportunity to make a good story but he ruined it, he had good characters, good origins, he knew what the fans wanted but it seemed like he didn't care, you don't know how angry it makes me

[lxmelle]

Preliminary thoughts… the end of jjk: Chapter 271 - spoilers under cut.

Edit: I guess to summarise, it’s a long piece on some parallels, my interpretations of the end, satosugu-centric as always, general thoughts on Sukuna’s end, Gojo & Geto’s death, the processing of death, how we live on in the fragments of memories carried by others, etc.

Written based off these translations: https://x.com/kaidanatta/status/1839426420352983516?s=46&t=fRFF_o0I99NKUvzHwQHykA

I liked how it openly depicted Gojo describing having the confidence he never had before.

It seems to me that he was peacefully accepting whatever came. He would do his best as he always did, but he had a vision to create a world that didn’t need “just one strong guy” - he vowed never to leave anyone alone again. I think it was both alone like him and alone like Geto.

Paths were meant to be trodden on together. And this vision was going to come true whether he survived or not. He would win either way.

Honestly, as sad and as much as things could have been better (for every single character, I might add), I’d rather someone die on their terms. Whatever happened to their bodies, regardless of how they died. If they were at peace with it themselves, having given their lives their all, then it is dignified. Better that’, than grovelling like Mahito, or resigned and regretful like Sukuna (although he did seem to be more at peace after leaving with Uraume - who, out of love, chose to die with him). And Sukuna, I think, at least realised he was partly human after all, and could look towards a “next time”. The monster did open up his heart in the afterlife - having lived one life in the only way he knew how.

Speaking of the afterlife...

And I wrote before about how I believe he didn’t die with any regret. And that Sukuna actively chose his own path, giving it his all - going by all that he knew - by rejecting love/humanity. Strongest. Until he wasn’t. Then (in the afterlife) he was free to choose. If there is a next time. It has a parallel to Gojo in that sense who was also shackled to his title and “blessings” as the one with six-eyes and limitless.

Link to some of my thoughts on Sukuna: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/760769700430069760/sukunas-choice-i-was-truly-struck-by-his

Link to some of my thoughts on how Gojo didn’t die with regret: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/757478555697512448/i-dont-think-gojo-died-dissatisfied-or-with-any even if he said he wasn’t completely satisfied, he actually did see Geto. And his smirk indicated he received Sukuna’s affirmation which was also important to him that he reached him in some way (and that his students would carry the torch).

Sukuna doesn't know if there will be another time. And assuming it’s Yorozu and Uraume he was thinking of… he knew love was an option in his life. No, it was not Gojo.

But, with him being a soul and after all that happened; in what he can do in the present, he is/was choosing to bring Uraume along. For someone who upheld that people and love didn’t matter, his actions and words are now depicting something else.

It’s nice character development. As Gege said, the only real evil was Mahito. And he didn’t want to fall in the trap of making people, “oh they’re good after all”. Sukuna did die like a villain but he may choose something else next time. Leaving it open to interpretation.

Speaking of confidence again… skip or skim this part if you don’t want to read too much about satosugu. It’s a bit repetitive but I think it’s part of putting all the pieces together.

So, confidence he never had? I think we are aware that Gojo knew he’d win either way: even if he lost. He was never really too attached to himself, just like how Geto wasn’t. His death, was on his terms, and his will would live on in a new world that was in the process of being created. Through the efforts of both Geto and Gojo - who were the strongest in the modern era - they had both vowed to change the jujutsu world.

Gojo lived with the humanity he opened his eyes to through Geto. This was the core of what I elaborated on in the KFC breakup.

Link here: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/758154996699283456/the-kfc-breakup-was-about-friendship-more-than

Geto believed in Gojo...

....but Gojo didn’t believe in him at the time of the KFC breakup. That’s why they fought, with Geto retaliating (you could do it but you tell me I can’t?) when he saw that Gojo didn’t/couldn’t regard him as an equal human being with potential. He saw it as Gojo bullying the weak. The weak should keep the strong in check (not abuse their power). Because Gojo was strong, he, who could fulfil Geto’s dream, told Geto that it as impossible and pointless. How arrogant. How condescending.

Geto, who believed in and tried to nurture Gojo to develop his humanity. To not scare his juniors. To respect the elders. To fit in. To not be lonely, to love and be loved. That there was more than being strong for the sake of being strong.

Geto always believed in Gojo. Even if Gojo didn’t believe in himself. He always just followed the path laid before him. He never needed to question it...

And I think it was this that shook Gojo. He took their friendship for granted. The one thing he wanted, he couldn’t have. He couldn’t stop Geto.

He didn’t have the confidence to kill Geto. He didn’t see the point. It would hurt him. Gojo had become too human. He loved Geto. And… He didn’t have the confidence to follow Geto. It would also hurt him. He knew he would be rejected. He wasn’t strong enough to convince him. Protect him. Them.

It wasnt enough to be strong. It wasn’t enough to be Gojo Satoru the way he was.

He needed to have something he could be confident in too. And therefore Gojo changed.

Gojo was gifted and could never understand what it was to be human or to strive for something beyond what was laid out for him. He never thought he would need to treasure anything. When he saw someone he could relate to - someone he loved - seemingly throw everything away - including him the strongest, who could be the key to his success… his world collapsed.

It didn’t make sense.

Geto was going to chase his dream despite not being strong enough.

How did he get that confidence? Why do such a pointless thing?

I think this is one of the things Gojo was left wondering.

He felt left behind; how did Geto have that resolve? Why wasn’t he able to follow him? What was he afraid of? Was he afraid?

Geto admitted it was foolish, but he was going to give it his all, in spite of its pointlessness and his own lack of strength. Even if he wasn’t strong enough, was meaning and reason enough to fight for such an impossible dream?

And what more, he believed in Gojo. You could do it, Satoru. That Gojo could achieve what he wanted to do, in his own way. Who are you? What will you choose to do?

Yes, of course we know Geto knew that he himself had abused his power, and that he deserved to be killed by Gojo. That’s why the draft of ch78 was instrumental in understanding Geto’s true meaning and the meaning that Gojo derived from it. I think that love and confidence moved Gojo. It was what he was searching for, and chasing... Geto and what he represented to him.

You know, we can see from the surface that Geto was a “villain” for his methods. But, Gojo was not innocent either. They were more similar than people want to realise.

They made (and were willing to make) sacrifices for the sake of the future.

Geto, in more directly “sinful” / harmful ways - killing and getting his hands dirty to rid the world of the source of curses - unevolved humans. He was trying to raise a world of sorcerers who could exist in peace without curses with him being the sacrifice (his source of energy would cease as well, if he won).

Gojo, in more indirectly “sinful” ways that resulted in mass casualties- his hands were relatively clean - even if he did take the higher-ups’ lives in his own hands. He was trying to raise a world of sorcerers that would not rely on him with him being the sacrifice (his role as the strongest would end as well if he succeeded in being replaced).

It’s fitting too, isn’t it? Geto’s CT is to absorb. Gojo’s CT to repel. Dark, light. Yin, Yang.

On a side note: I had also hoped for a scene with his resting place or something like that to depict a final satosugu moment. And this as echoed in the X community. Some people were really hurt, sharing their dissatisfaction.

My thoughts on this… well… maybe an unpopular opinion, but I’ll share it anyway.

One of the reasons why Gojo wasn’t openly mourned is... I speculate, perhaps because he was viewed as part of the cause of what happened. The other teachers who didn’t have the weight of responsibility (that power and status bring) could afford to be cogs in the system. Changing things was always going to be difficult. Someone had to do it. Just depends on how… Right?

Gojo was just depicted as a difficult character within the series amongst the adults. He did things his way, didn’t communicate well, appeared to throw his strength around, talked down to people even if he didn’t mean to - and this shitstorm also happened because he took (what they/others thought were) unnecessary risks by saving Yuta and Yuji. And keeping Geto’s body by not cremating it.

This is their shortsighted view - because they probably did not know of his massive dream to shake up the jujutsu world. Again, Gojo is not a great communicator. What can ichiji (the only one we see him telling this dream to) do to assist Gojo with this revolution?

From their perspective, after all that stress with the real risk of more chaos occurring, the raging war, the casualties, the mess in the aftermath with barriers, etc. that all needs to be rebuilt… yeah - they aren’t going to have the time to think fondly of the guy who could be held accountable for it.

It sucks, but please understand- there is truth in their perspective too. Gojo probably was processed and buried in the end. Gege could only fit in a small exchange and I daresay it was really precious between what he and Yuji shared. I’m so happy he was at peace with things and felt the satisfaction of being a part of his students’ lives.

This was the world Geto and he had dreamed of. Allies working together. Strong allies. People who would not be forced to leave one another behind.

But to get there… Sacrifices did need to be made.

It just has to be accepted as what it was / is. They aren’t going to say thank you. But we as the reader can appreciate the whole picture for what it is.

Gojo was part of the problem as he was the solution,(that handpicked allies which also came with risk). Geto was part of the problem as he was the solution (that changed Gojo Satoru who could’ve been a monster). And the kids like Yuji were also part of the problem as they were the solution. That’s. Just... what it is.

If we are looking to pin the blame on something... well, just where do we begin? The jujutsu system is inherently the thing that “caused it all”. Maybe even right back to the days where tengen spread Buddhism around and Kenjaku and Sukuna were all kind of a part of it. We just don’t know where it all started. It worked once upon a time, until things change. Things will always change. But the higher-ups were greedy and wanted things to remain hierarchical as they were without the need for change. So when change came to their door step through a series of things, it was radical. Needed.

Anyway, it could be that they see it as him taking responsibility for the trouble he caused. This was his role as the strongest and he wanted that battle. He did what he could with what he had. And the children he saved were part of the solution at the end. Their own sins - like Maki’s massacre of the clan, etc. would all probably have a line drawn under it as part of this “revolution” that Gojo shouldered.

The dream began and ended. Gojo took responsibility. And I think, just as he wanted, they’ll now create something new from the rubble left behind.

He gave his life his all… achieved what he wanted (confidence, revolution, and left his will) and now in his afterlife, he has caught up to his best friend.

His one and only complex. His one and only best friend.

I may have more to add later on, but for now... thank you Gege Akutami. I look forward to your next work.

And thank you for drawing Geto with Gojo in the colour spread! 🫶

Thank you for reading if you made to the end! Sorry for rambling.

Thoughts? Feel free to comment! Happy to hear from others and engage 🫶

Edit: Yuji smiles like Gojo does now... not only does he remember his sensei, he is living out the dream. This is how live on - in the hearts of others. This is Gojo’s (and Geto’s) legacy. Yuji’s strength, different from Gojo, but similar in idealism, is that he is like everyone’s brother - and he will build strength with all allies.

That’s my theory... it’s a fitting end and beginning of a new generation. Not limited to Yuji alone too. It’s really….. remarkable.

Second edit:

still processing it all and hurts my heart to see the last Geto & Gojo that Gege is likely to draw 😫 I’m glad he is closest to Gojo and they even share the same colour (lol). It’s cute that he’s doing the peace ✌🏼 sign that Gojo has been seen to do (maybe more in the anime). And Gojo appears to have gestures that Geto’s patted him on the back. In the afterlife, I’m sure there’ll be the exchange of 「お疲れ様でした、悟。」

You did well, Satoru. You both did...

And in the top corner... white: Kashimo? And cropped jacket: Haibara?

[cassofheartsss]

Suburban Legends

a/n: This is inspired by suburban legends by taylor swift and this is the second thing i’ve ever written so don’t expect it to be the best

It was your 5 year high school reunion and you were outside in the parking lot waiting to go in. The reunion was being held at hawkins high school and you knew you’d see Steve again. Everyone expected you and Steve to walk in together but you broke up about six months after graduating which shocked everyone. You saw some of your old friend group and immediately greeted them and walked in with them. “Oh my god hey i’ve not seen you in like forever” Nancy said with a smile. You and Nancy had always been close. “Hey Nance it’s so nice to see you again” You say hugging her. “Heyyy” Robin said when she saw you. “Hey Robs” You replied hugging her too. “Are you excited to see Steve?” Jonathan asked. “It might be nice to see him again” You said and Robin gave you a look. She knew you still liked him it was so obvious to everyone actually. “So how did the breakup actually happen?” Nancy asked. “I paced down his block, I broke my own heart cause he was too polite to do it” You said and Nancy,Robin and Jonathan instantly understood what you meant. You then started talking about what you had all been doing since you graduated.

After a few minutes Steve walked and you immediately looked at him. He walked over to you and the rest of the group and greeted everyone and just nodded at you. He then walked over to the drinks table to get a drink and you followed him. He was so magnetic it was almost obnoxious.

“Um hi” You said to Steve and he turned to look at you. You smiled at him and also grabbed a drink. You was hoping this wouldn’t be awkward especially since you hadn’t talked to each other since the breakup, which was four and a half years ago.

“Oh hi it’s nice to see you again” He said with a smile. Thank god this wasn’t going to be awkward. Obviously it wouldn’t be was Steve Harrington he was Good with women.

“It’s nice to see you again too” You said and then music started playing on the speakers. The song that was playing was the song you and Steve always used danced to.

“Do you wanna dance?” Steve asked with a smirk not waiting for your answer and pulling you to the dance floor. He put his hands on your waist and you put your hands around his neck and danced together. You wanted to say something but you had no words. When he holds you, it holds you together.

You were getting closer and closer to eachother and you knew this probably wasn’t a good idea but you didn’t actually come here to make friends. “I know that you still remember we were born to be national treasures” You said to steve finally thinking of something to say. “Y’know I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs would surprise the whole school and i’d end up back at a class reunion walking in with you. You’d be more than a chapter in my old diaries with the pages ripped out and i was hoping i’d be sharing this moment with you right now” You continued.

“I always hoped we’d get back together” Steve said smirking. “We were born to be suburban legends” He continued. You both leaned in closer and your lips met. Oh god he kissed you in a way that’s gonna screw you up forever. For the first time in almost five years everything seemed normal again. Maybe just maybe your life wouldn’t be ruined and maybe Steve would once again be a page in your diary.

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 7:Her Vulnerability

Summary: Wednesday blames you as the reason she let her guard down, for the vulnerability that came with you.

Warning: Light Angst. Wednesday is back. !Mentions of death of a parent! Slow Burn.

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

Worklist.

Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone, frantically dialing your dad’s number. This wasn’t a “handle it yourself” kind of situation. You had nine high people on your hands, one of them being Wednesday Addams, and you knew things could go downhill fast.

"Dad.." you began, your voice shaky..

He definitely sensed the panic in your voice. “What happened? Everything alright?”

“Uh, not exactly,” you said, glancing nervously at the group. “So... Dad, do you remember how you always said if I ever needed you, no matter how stupid the reason, you’d come?”

Your dad paused, immediately suspicious. “Yeah? What did you do?”

“Okay, first of all, this is not my fault.” You shot a look toward Rick, who was now trying to chase his own shadow in circles, laughing like a maniac. “But... everyone here might be, uh, high. And Wednesday, well, she’s... Let’s just say I need help. Fast.”

Your dad’s voice came back with a groan. “Hey! You told me you guys were camping, what kind of camps do they even run?"

“We were camping, Dad! It’s an accident!” you snapped, frustration bubbling over. “Stop asking questions and just get here!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. What do I even bring to deal with this?” he asked,

You blinked, unsure how to answer. “Uh, a tranquilizer gun?”

Your dad chuckled. “I’ll figure it out. See you soon. Try to keep the casualties to a minimum.”

“Great,” you muttered. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be here... herding drunk cats.”

As you hung up, you sighed in relief but immediately felt the weight of the situation crash back in.

“Y/n,”

You jumped, nearly dropping your phone. “What the—Wednesday! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You need to lift the magic.”

“Magic? What magic?” You frowned, thrown off by the comment.

“The one that keeps making me think about you all the time. Like right now. Like when I sleep.” She leaned closer, "It makes me feel... weird. Like... like I should stab you. But I can’t. I try, but it doesn’t feel right. Anyone else, I’d stab them. Like... like Brooke.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral. “Okay, but let’s agree not to stab Brooke,” you said, gently taking her arm.

Just then you heard Alex shout from across the camp. “Oh, baby! You complete me!”

“Oh, for the love of—” you groaned, rushing over to see Alex, arms wrapped around a thick tree trunk, “Alex, what the hell are you doing?”

Alex, now fully invested in his "relationship" with the tree, was whispering sweet nothings into its bark. "You're so... strong. You never hurt me, even when I hit you. I think... I love you."

"Alex!" You groaned, "Stop groping the tree. It doesn’t love you back."

He glanced at you, wide-eyed and sincere. “She… she gets me. She understands me. I love her.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you should laugh or cry. “Alex, it’s a tree.”

“Don’t insult her!” he cried dramatically, clutching the bark tighter. “She’s... she’s the love of my life.”

“Rick! Don’t get in the water!” you shouted as you caught sight of him staggering toward the lake.

Rick paused, looked back, and said, “But the water… it calls to me!”

“No! You’ll drown!” You sprinted over, grabbing his arm and yanking him back just in time. He stumbled but managed to stay upright, looking at you as if you’d just ruined his dreams.

“Aw, come on! I just wanted to see the dolphin.”

“It's a lake Rick! There are no dolphins! Stay away from the water!”

You sighed, glancing around the camp to see what fresh disaster awaited you. And then, your heart stopped.

"Wednesday, don’t stab Brooke!" you shouted, seeing Wednesday approaching Brooke with a knife in hand.

“Why not?” Wednesday replied, her voice dangerously calm. “She looks stab-worthy.”

For a second, you thought you were in the clear—until Wednesday moved behind Brooke and, with one swift motion, sliced off her ponytail.

Brooke just kept laughing. “Hey! Free haircut!”

“Wednesday, what the hell!" you cried.

She turned to you with an unsettling smirk, eyes still glazed but sharp. Without warning, she threw the knife at you. You yelped, dodging just in time as the blade embedded itself in the tree behind you. “Seriously?!”

She grinned, grabbing another knife from god knows where. “It’s a game, Y/n. You dodge, I throw.” You ducked again as the second knife sailed past your head. “How many knives do you even have?!” “Enough,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Before you could react, she pulled out another knife from her coat. “Okay, stop!” You ducked as the third knife soared past. “Are you done?” She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “No.” And out came knife number four. You barely dodged it as it flew past your head and stabbed Alex's newlywed wife... "My love! Noooo" Alex cried holding onto the tree.

“You’re really good at dodging,” Wednesday mumbled, her words slurring together. “I might like that about you.”

You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified.

“Wednesday! Are you done?”

She frowned, swaying on her feet. “I’m out of knives."

"Thank god," you muttered but before you could catch your breath you saw Mike, who was trying to roast marshmallows... without the stick. He held the marshmallows directly over the fire with his bare hands, completely unaware of the flames licking at his skin.

“Mike!” you ran over and pulled him away. “Are you trying to set yourself on fire?!”

He blinked at you in confusion. “I was just... hungry.”

“Use a stick next time!” you cried, handing him one.

You sighed as you glanced at Wednesday, who had wandered off again, staring at the moon like it had personally offended her.

You jogged over to her, grabbing her by the arm before she could do anything else drastic. “Wednesday, stay with me, okay? Get a hold of yourself, stop acting weird.”

“I’m not weird,” she muttered, looking up at the sky with unfocused eyes. “The moon is weird. Look at it... all smug up there... thinking it’s so important. I could take it down if I wanted to.”

“Sure, Wednesday,” you said, humoring her. “But let’s not fight the moon right now, okay?”

She blinked, swaying slightly. “Why not? It deserves it. It’s always watching... judging... Like Weems, Can we kill Weems when we go back?”

Rick was running back toward the lake again, you rubbed your temples. “Wednesday, please just sit down, we can kill Weems later, okay?.” you said before going for Rick.

“Rick! No!” You sprinted after him, pulling him away just before he could dive in.

“Man, you’re no fun!” Rick slurred, pouting like a child.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to keep you all alive!”

Returning to Wednesday, you found her surprisingly obedient for once, sitting by the fire.

“You,” she muttered, pointing a finger at you again. “Why are you always fixing things? Its annoying.”

You sighed, catching your breath. “Trust me, I know.”

“But…” she paused, her brow furrowing in drunken confusion. “I also kind of like that you’re always… there.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, your heart doing a weird little flip despite the chaos. “Oh yeah? Well, I kind of like that you haven’t stabbed anyone yet.”

She smirked, getting up on her feet. “Give me some time.”

Just as you were about to respond, the distant ruffling from the woods.

Your dad had arrived, along with a few camp staff members who clearly had no idea what they were walking into.

“Okay,” your dad said, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell happened here?”

You crossed your arms, gesturing to the group. “This. This happened. Rick spiked the coffee. So… good luck. I’m getting Wednesday out of here. Give me your car keys.”

Your dad hesitated, his brows furrowing. "You don’t have a license yet, Y/n."

"I don’t care," you said firmly, glancing over at Wednesday, who was eyeing everyone with a dangerous gleam. "I need to get her out of here before she really does something."

He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, digging into his pocket and pulling out the car keys. "Here. And take this." He handed you a flashlight. "It’s dark out there."

"Thanks, Dad," you said, pocketing the keys and flashlight.

"Good luck," he called as you started to lead Wednesday away from the mess.

You led Wednesday through the dark jungle, her hand gripped tightly in yours, her steps unsteady but stubborn. Every twig that snapped had you jumping. “You’re scared,” Wednesday observed bluntly. You stiffened. “No, I’m not. I just don’t like… unexpected noises.” “You’re scared,” she repeated, her voice softer now, less mocking. “I can tell.” You sighed. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. It’s dark and creepy" You walked in silence for a few moments, the jungle seeming to close in around you, the air thick and heavy, but what felt even more dense.. was Wednesday's proximity near you.

“I’m scared too.” her voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.

You blinked, “What? You? Scared? Of what?” you asked, half expecting her to say something completely ridiculous, like hugs.

“I’m scared… of getting close to you.” Her words came out slowly, as if she were forcing herself to admit it.

That made you stop in your tracks. You turned to look at her, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears.

“I’m scared about that too,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the sounds of the jungle. “I’m scared for you. That you’ll get close to me, and it’ll be... selfish.”

“Selfish?” she echoed, her brow furrowing. “Why would it be selfish?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn't.. you didn't want to lose her... not yet.

Wednesday’s gaze bore into you, waiting for an answer, but you squeezed her hand lightly, leading her forward through the jungle.

"Let’s just get out of here," you murmured.

She didn’t press further, just followed your lead, her steps slow but steady, her grip firm in yours. After what felt like an eternity, you finally saw the road ahead, your dad’s car parked at the edge of the road. Relief washed over you as you reached it. You helped Wednesday into the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. Your hands shook as you gripped the steering wheel.

There was no way you were driving two hours to Nevermore in this state. Your house was only half an hour away, and you were way too tired to push through for that long.

“I’m taking you to my place,” you said, glancing over at Wednesday. “It’s closer.” She blinked slowly, her head resting against the window. “I don’t care… as long as it’s quiet.” You started the car, pulling onto the road and heading toward home. The drive was mostly silent, save for the occasional comment from Wednesday. “You’re a terrible driver,” she mumbled at one point, her eyes half-closed. “Gee, thanks,” you muttered. “And why is your car so… bright?” “It’s a normal car, Wednesday.” “I prefer hearses.” You chuckled, feeling a strange warmth spread through your chest despite the exhaustion. Even drunk, even high, she was still Wednesday Addams.

After what felt like both an eternity and a blink, you finally pulled into your driveway. You hadn’t been gone long, just a week, but somehow it felt like you’d been away for months. You missed it. You helped Wednesday out of the car, guiding her toward the front door. She blinked at the house, her lips curling into a half-frown. “It’s… too clean.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Where are the cobwebs? The dust? It’s too… colorful. It offends me.” You laughed softly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. “Sorry to disappoint. Maybe I can add some cobwebs for you later.” Wednesday grunted, following you in. “You should.” You led her upstairs to the bathroom, handing her a towel and some spare clothes—luckily, you had some black ones. No way were you risking putting her in anything with colours. That might be the last mistake you ever made. "Just… take a shower. I’ll be right outside if you need anything," you said, standing awkwardly by the door. There was a pause, and then the sound of water running. You heard her muttering something under her breath, but you didn’t ask what.

After a few minutes, she emerged, dressed in the black shirt and pants you’d given her. She still looked disheveled, her hair damp and wild.. and... human? "Better?" you asked. She nodded once, her eyes flicking over you. "Tolerable." "Great." You led her to your room, where you helped her onto your bed. "You can sleep here. I’ll take the chair." Wednesday stared at the bed with disdain. “It’s too colorful.” “Would you prefer I get you a coffin?” Her eyes lit up "You can?" “No, I’m fresh out of coffins, so you’re stuck with this.” You said, watching as she reluctantly climbed onto the bed. She lay back, eyeing the bright blankets suspiciously. "Sweet dreams Wends." "Bitter nightmares Y/n." You sat down in the chair, resting your head on the table, exhausted from the day. As your eyelids grew heavier, you couldn’t help but feel… content. Despite everything that happened, the chaos, the stress—it was nice. It was nice… with Wednesday.

Wednesday woke up with a pounding headache, one that reminded her of the few times she'd experienced her visions—but this one was worse. Her skull felt like it was splitting in two. She blinked slowly, squinting against the unfamiliar light filtering through the room. Her mind began to sort through fragments of memories. The camp… those insufferable therapy sessions… the lake… She sat up abruptly, clutching her head as the pain intensified.

Her eyes flicked around the room, landing on your slumped figure, asleep at the desk. You were hunched over, your head resting on your arms, your breathing slow and steady. For some reason, her mind didn’t leap to the worst-case scenarios like it usually did. Normally, she would have assumed she’d been kidnapped or poisoned or worse, but this time, her immediate reaction was different. You were there. And for some strange, infuriating reason, that put her mind somewhat at ease. She quickly squashed that feeling, she needed answers.

“Y/N.” You jolted upright, startled and confused, your eyes wide as you tried to get your bearings. “Wednesday?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes, still half-asleep. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “And why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train?” You stood, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “You’re at my house,” you said, a bit sheepish. “Uh, sorry about that. After everything that happened last night, I figured it was easier to bring you here instead of taking you all the way back to Nevermore.” Wednesday’s gaze narrowed. “And what, exactly, happened last night?” You grimaced. “It was Rick. He spiked the coffee, and… well, everyone got pretty messed up. You were high.”

A flicker of memory hit her like a punch to the gut. The coffee. Rick. Her emotions spilling out. She had been...drunk. And not just any kind of drunk—emotionally vulnerable drunk. A wave of nausea hit her. "I was what?"

"Yeah, you were... not yourself. And I had to, you know, keep you from stabbing people or throwing knives. At me, mostly." You gave her a nervous chuckle, trying to ease the tension. "So I took you home before you killed anyone."

Wednesday’s face darkened, her expression unreadable. She could vaguely remember the feel of the knife in her hand, the sheer frustration bubbling inside her, and then...she let her guard down. She had felt things—for you. Her hands tightened into fists.

"This was your fault," she said, her voice low, dangerous. “You. You're the reason this happened.”

You blinked in surprise, then frowned. “What? How is this my fault?”

“You.” Her eyes burned with anger, her lips curling into a scowl. “Yesterday, I let you in. And look where that got me—drunk, vulnerable, and completely out of control.”

Her words stung. You had never seen her so agitated, so vulnerable, and yet so defensive at the same time. Your heart sank a little, but you stepped closer to her. “Wednesday, it’s okay. I was there, wasn’t I? I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“That's not the point!” Wednesday snapped. “The point is that I’m never like this. I never allow myself to be anything other than in control. But you... you make me lose that control. You distract me. You’re the reason I wasn’t on guard, the reason I didn’t see it coming.”

For a moment, you were speechless. It wasn’t often that you saw Wednesday like this—raw, emotional, admitting that she wasn’t as impenetrable as she wanted to be. But instead of backing down, you felt your own frustration rising.

“So, what? You’re mad because I’m not a threat to you? Because I make you feel something?”

Her eyes flashed. “Yes!”

You stared at her, genuinely taken aback by her admission. “You’re blaming me for something you’re not used to dealing with that I had no control of.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You had control, you entered my life. I never asked you to get close to me," she hissed.

You stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. You shook your head slowly. “You know what? Fine. Be mad. Blame me for all of it. Blame me because you’re scared to admit that you actually care about someone. Go ahead.”

Wednesday’s eyes flashed a bit of emotions, but you didn’t stop.

“Because I can’t do this,” you said, your voice laced with frustration. “I can't keep taking the fault just because you’re too stubborn to admit that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to be alone all the time.”

“I am not alone,” Wednesday said coldly. “I choose this.”

You looked at her, and for a second, something shifted in your expression. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointment. “Fine. Then go. Be strong and alone, just like you always do.”

The words stung more than she cared to admit. She felt her anger surge again, but this time, there was something else beneath it—an ache she couldn’t name. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her mind racing.

Back in your room, you groaned, burying your face in your hands. The frustration, the anger—it was all swirling inside you like a storm. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but damn it, Wednesday knew how to push every button.

Still, you couldn’t just leave things like this. Not after everything that had happened.

With a resigned sigh, you stood up, running a hand through your hair as you headed out to find her.

Wednesday stood outside, her arms crossed tightly against her chest as the morning air bit at her skin. She stood rigid, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. What part of Jericho is she even in?

She was stuck in this place—your place. A house that felt almost too normal for her liking, too...warm. It was unsettling. And yet, it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the setting that rattled her. It was you.

She wasn’t going back inside.

Her pride wouldn’t allow it. She could navigate the situation on her own—she didn’t need help. Wednesday Addams never needed help.

You were the one person she could blame for her current predicament. Yet, somehow, you were also the only person she found herself thinking about.

Her head was still pounding, the remnants of the drug-fueled haze clinging to her like a persistent shadow. It was disorienting and left her feeling unusually out of control.

And that—more than anything—infuriated her.

She wasn’t used to this. Losing control, feeling vulnerable, feeling anything.

It was your fault. You had wormed your way into her life, into her mind, and now, into her emotions. And for what? You were unpredictable, infuriatingly cheerful, and entirely too comfortable in her presence. No one had ever made her feel this conflicted before. And she hated it.

No, she hated you. Right?

What had she said last night? What had you seen? She remembered the rush of emotions flooding her mind, the dizzying sensation of being drunk—something she never allowed herself to be.

And somehow, you had been there, in the middle of it all. And you are still here now...

“Is it really that bad to let someone in, Wednesday?” She stiffened at the sound of your voice, not bothering to turn to face you.

“Yes,” she replied coldly, the answer immediate and sharp. “It would make me weak. Vulnerable.”

You sighed softly, taking a few slow steps toward her, careful not to intrude on her space but just close enough that she couldn’t ignore your presence.

“Vulnerability,” you mused, glancing down at your feet before looking back at her with a sad smile. “I wish I felt vulnerable sometimes. The vulnerability of a mother’s love."

Wednesday’s sharp gaze turned to you, a question forming in her eyes but remaining unspoken.

“My mother died giving birth to me,” you continued, "Talk about being born only to murder your mother,” you chuckled, though it wasn’t filled with your usual warmth. It was tinged with something deeper—pain.

That hit harder than she anticipated. Wednesday wasn’t one for empathy, but something about the way you said it, the way you tried to laugh off the tragedy, made something in her chest tighten. She wasn’t sure why, but the pain in your voice resonated with her.

“I watched as the others played with their mothers,” you continued, your eyes distant now, as if you were seeing something far away. “Dad tried, he really did. But he had work. The cars in his garage weren’t going to fix themselves.”

Wednesday stayed silent, her eyes locked on your profile. She could see the sadness in your eyes now, the weight of it pressing down on you like a dark cloud. You were trying to make a joke of it, trying to downplay the loss, but she could tell how much it still hurt you.

“Why am I telling you all this?” you asked, your voice softer now, more vulnerable than she had ever heard it. “Because, Wednesday... sometimes, the thing we think will make us weak or vulnerable... is actually the thing that’s missing. The thing that could make us whole.”

She remained silent, the words hanging in the air between you both. For the first time in a long time, Wednesday didn’t have a sharp retort, didn’t have some sarcastic comment to throw back at you. She just...stood there. Listening.

What the hell am I even doing?

Her mind raced, and she felt an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. You clearly had nothing to hide, no ulterior motives that she could detect. Maybe...maybe she could trust you. But trust was dangerous. She had built her life around never needing to trust anyone. Why should you be any different?

Still, something about your words lingered in her mind, gnawing at her resolve. Vulnerability wasn’t a weakness, you had said. It was the missing piece.

For a moment, she considered the possibility. Maybe, just maybe, letting you in didn’t mean losing control. Maybe it was something else entirely.

She clenched her jaw, finally turning to face you. “Where does this leave us?”

You met her gaze, your expression unreadable for a moment. Then, you gave a soft, almost tired smile.

“What even is this?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. It was a rare admission of uncertainty from her, and it made her feel exposed in a way she hated.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, shrugging slightly. “But does it really need to have a name? This...whatever this is...it can just be ‘this’ till we enjoy each other’s company.” You smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I clearly enjoy yours. I don’t know about you.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but there was no real malice in the gesture. “You aren’t entirely intolerable,” she muttered under her breath, her voice softer than usual.

You laughed at that, a genuine laugh that seemed to lift some of the tension between you. “High praise coming from you,” you teased.

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. The fact that she hadn’t immediately insulted you or walked away was enough of a response.

Then, after a moment, you stretched and yawned, clearly still recovering from the night’s chaos. “Anyway,” you said, “I clearly need coffee. Preferably not spiked" You took a few steps forward, then paused, looking back over your shoulder at her. “You coming?”

She sighed, her expression impassive as she finally moved to follow you.

Whatever this was, it went deeper than that. The things she did for you, the things you made her feel...they weren’t just born from friendship. But no, this wasn’t something romantic either, at least not yet. She wasn’t sure what it was.

And maybe, just for now, that was okay.

This didn’t need a name.

[multimilfs]

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader: The Reigning Game, Chapter (5/?) - Vows Made With Sacred Blades

Summary: With a new threat brought to light and victory on the horizon, what will you do next?

AO3

A/N: Not me showing up 3 years late to my own party...

In all seriousness, this story underwent HEAVY edits. I recommend rereading the whole thing as I added scenes and adjusted old ones. Also, I answered a bunch of questions in my end note on a03, so I'd also read that xoxo

Tag List: @white--lillies @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @imtrashinflames @thatmacrameisnotgonnahitchitself @thoroughly--confused (apologies if i missed anyone, it has been a while)

Warning(s): Blood, Suicide Mention

(Previous Chapters)

“Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.” P.K. Dick

You don’t remember when Agatha fell to her knees.

The sword catches the light, dripping with thin, bright blood. Agatha’s blood. It startles you that she’s the same inside as you; you had expected corruption to flow through her veins, staining her black from the inside out.

Agatha groans. Barely propped up on her knees, she’s using one hand to support herself while the other glows and fizzles out repeatedly. The sword doesn’t vanish, the wound doesn’t heal.

The wound may not have been by your own hand, but is this… victory? Have you won?

“Coward,” Agatha spits, “stabbing me in the back.”

Your heart races with something strangely like fear, yet a little to the left. With every drop of blood staining the grass the emotion grows. Her winces with every move twist something in you. Revenge is like honey on your tongue—so why do you feel sick?

Let her die.

Lightness sweeps through your limbs. Walking away now would be so easy. It is your turn to have the last word.

“Help me up.” Agatha demands.

Her chest rises, though stutters each time as the pain of her flesh sliding over the blade renews. Under her breath she lets loose a string of obscene curses.

You tilt your head, your own voice sounding far away, “Why should I?”

Agatha freezes. For the first time since falling, she looks at you. You’re struck by the change in circumstances; not long ago it was you kneeling at her feet, begging. You’re seized by the desire to feel her beg.

You want to hold her heart in your hands and squeeze.

“Don’t do this. Not now.”

The laugh comes too easy, “I never took you for a sore loser, Harkness.”

“If you want to win, stab me yourself—don’t profit off of someone else’s fortune.”

You stare at her, hard; the paling of her skin, the way her fingers are clenched in the grass, palm sputtering purple. Her eyes are furious. There’s also something else there you can’t quite place.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You ask, “Being rid of you is winning. How it happens is irrelevant.”

Agatha’s lips pull into a smirk. It lacks the usual strength, but you still find yourself unmoored—fear creeping in where triumph was moments earlier.

Her eyes drag over you. Her own head tilts.

“You’d be beautiful like this—if it was really you.”

You can’t breathe.

“I beg your pardon?”

You stand back—watching, waiting. Her eyes bore into you, the pain in them becoming more evident. You feel sick.

It’s wrong to let her suffer, to watch her bleed out when you can help, but wouldn’t she do the same given the chance? How many battles had you fought, how many thousands cut down just so she could get to you? And she hadn’t allowed you the dignity of dying with your people.

No, she forced you into this circus.

You’re better than her; you’ll grant her the dignity of a swift death.

“You want to be the one responsible, always have.” Agatha says, the hint of a wheeze creeping into her speech. You’re surprised she held out as long as she did. “That’s why you put the poison in my tea, isn’t it?”

She… She knew.

She knew.

“Your death is for the best.” You say.

“She’ll s-slaughter them all. What was it you said—a Queen does what is best, even when it isn’t in her interests?” Agatha laughs, but it's hollow, weak, “Some Queen you are, signing their death warrant.”

You fall to your knees at her side.

Agatha Harkness is the source of all your problems, a tormenter you just cannot escape; but if you kill her now, you undo all you’ve done, and condemn your people to death—or worse. You have to act as a Queen ought. You need her.

“What do I do?” You whisper.

“Get… Get me outside this damn barrier. I’ll handle the rest.”

But hadn’t you already—?

When you stand, you’re barely able to lift Agatha to lean on you. If not for the little remaining strength she has you’d be done for. But you take what you can get and push through the screaming of your body to drag her toward the barrier that wasn’t there a moment ago.

The barrier gleams and twists in place. It's objectively beautiful, but what you’ve witnessed here has dulled your admiration.

You’re steps away when there’s a chuckle on your right, “I have to admit, you surprise me.”

You shove Agatha through before you can think. Without touching the barrier yourself, you turn, and stare into the eyes you’re coming to hate more than the original pair.

The too-wide smile again greets you, “With all that rage I expected you to take my sword and cut her apart.”

“I’m not a monster.”

“Aren’t you?”

“You said I had a fortnight.”

“You do,” She hums, unbothered by your glare, “this is a warning.”

“You think your promises weren’t warning enough? Your intentions were plain.” You snarl.

A distorted, hollow laugh crawls from her mouth, “You know nothing of what I’ll do to you. Your dear, sweet wife went easy on you.”

“You know nothing.”

She had been looking off at some distant marker, only for her head to snap violently to look at you, the crack making you flinch. The once-empty gaze is now full of fury. Behind the blackness, a flame burns bright.

“I know more of her than you’ll ever understand.” She hisses, “And if you were smart, you’d have let her die.”

And she’s gone, as if a product of your imagination.

You reach out and feel yourself pulled back through the barrier.

-- --

“If they never come out of there, what happens?” Darcy whispers.

Lady Darcy always prided herself on an excellent understanding of magic and magical theory; but with every moment spent in the world alongside Agatha Harkness, she grows less sure.

Agatha Harkness is an anomaly; the kind of witch born once in a thousand years. It seems as if magical anomalies follow in her wake, but are they caused by her, or merely drawn out of hiding by her power?

They stand alone in the clearing with their thoughts, Guards and company preparing to take their leave should the two of you return. Hope fades more every moment. 

Lord James looks utterly defeated, “I… I don’t know. They’ve left no heir.”

“Which means The Council will appoint one.”

A look of dread passes between the two.

“We can’t let that happen.”

“How are we going to stop them?” Darcy raises a brow.

Lord James Woo spent his life serving at your side, and proudly; you’ve held tight to propriety, unbent by corruption, guiding with level-headed and clear intent. The tactics in his mind now would never have your approval.

But if you’re dead, he has to look out for the living.

“We lie.”

Darcy blinks.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you properly. We lie?” She hisses.

“What else do you suggest?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, something less stupid!”

James winces.

“We say she appointed an heir prior to… this. Agatha didn’t sign off, but she didn’t speak against it, either. You and I were both witnesses.”

Pacing the small length between them, chewing on her nail, scenarios pass through both of their minds. Scenario one; somehow, the Council accepts the word as fact. Scenario two; they’re disbelieved and exiled at best, executed at worst.

You find lying reprehensible. But your goal has always been to protect the people, to offer them the best; they have to try and do the same.

“Say they buy it; who is her heir?”

The look the question earns her is particularly scathing for James. She smiles sheepishly.

Only one within the kingdom held enough of your trust to be named heir in your place. Only one person you knew would hold up under the weight of expectation and would keep the best interests of the people in mind.

The set up could not be more perfect if they tried. Not only is the woman of royal blood, but her Mother’s House widely acclaimed for their military and strategic prowess. Factor in her closeness to you and it makes the nomination impossible to ignore; far stronger than the minor Lord they would put in her place.

“Alright,” Darcy agrees, “but we’ll give them all the time we can.”

“Right.”

Luckily, or unluckily, they do not wait long.

One moment the space before them is empty, the next there is a heap of woman kneeling on the ground, propped up by a shaking arm. A heap with dark hair and clad in purple.

“Foolish fucking woman.” Agatha bites out loud enough for them to hear.

Darcy notices the sword moments before Agatha straightens, pushing said item out of her body with a long moan. James freezes. Darcy shrieks.

Agatha pays them no mind; slamming her hand onto the barrier that doesn’t allow her to pass, magic crackling at her fingertips and then pulling in, wrapping around the witch as she breathes it in. The wound in her middle knits itself back together before their eyes.

The barrier ripples. You blip into existence.

There is a split second where you blink and make eye contact with Darcy and James. The next, your eyes are drawn to the swirl of magic being pulled from the barrier and turning violet.

“Are you alright?” You demand, gripping her arm, turning her to face you as your eyes roam. Your body screams with exhaustion.

Agatha goes taut. Her theft stops when she turns to glare at you. When her lips pull up in a mighty sneer, you expect the lashing of a century; you had been seconds away from leaving her for dead, after all.

Her body relaxes in your grip, her voice careful, “I’m fine, dear.”

“Swear it?”

“I swear.”

Something inside you relaxes. You’ll live to see another day if she is near to lend her power—and well enough to do so. Your people’s safety is nearly assured.

How, though, to secure a promise of protection from her that isn’t all talk? You can’t bind a witch like her to law, try as you might. She will always have the upper hand of immeasurable power. You need that power bent to your will.

An itch scratches at the back of your mind; a memory long forgotten, a whisper of words once-said that you can’t quite understand.

“What the hell happened in there?!”

Darcy’s voice interrupts your racing thoughts. You hear the borderline panic in the question.

How heavy you feel, how weary. What about you attracts so many threats?

Agatha speaks before you can, “A new adversary has presented itself.”

“And they’re responsible for all… this?” James waves to the barrier.

“More or less.”

A look passes between Darcy and James.

“They’ve given us fourteen days to prepare, as if we need that long,” Agatha scoffs, breezing through, “but you’ll stay here and tell us of any changes. You have ravens?”

“We send word on horseback.” Darcy answers, slowly.

“Horseback? My god, how do you get anything done?”

With a wave of her hand, a metal cage appears with five ravens inside. They’re curiously quiet. Beady eyes look into yours, far more intelligence behind them than you anticipate. Their feathers shift violet in the sun but remain pure black otherwise.

Your Father seldom had the patience for training ravens; though he had attempted on and off throughout your childhood. The experience was rife with highs and lows. He would boast to your Mother, glowing with triumph one day, only to come back sullen the next. Every raven he attempted to train had flown away when it mattered.

Not for the first time, you wonder what had gone wrong; you did not know any creature that would flee permanently if endeared to their owner.

Agatha opens the cage door and holds out a finger. The nearest one steps up, though the others hop forward to nuzzle at her hand.

“Yes, hello,” Agatha coos.

Hand extracted, raven perched obediently on her finger, Agatha sets her shoulders. An air of arrogance surrounds her. She waves her other hand and a blank piece of parchment appears in the space between you.

“Write me a lovely note, darling, and I’ll show you all how to send it.” Agatha’s smile is saccharine.

“Would that I had a quill.”

“You know how to use your fingers, don’t you?”

The low, raspy note of her voice makes you flush.

You draft up a suitably nasty message and sign it with a flourish. Batting your lashes, you fold the letter, and go so far as to press a kiss to the back before handing it over. She smirks.

The kiss on the back raises into a wax seal. Agatha winks.

She beckons you forward with an impatient tilt of her head. You follow, stepping further into her space than you're comfortable with.

“Hold out your hand,” She commands and you do, mimicking her own position, “Repeat after me—Serva.”

“Serva.”

You don’t expect the raven to launch herself from Agatha’s fingers into flight; but when she does, you’re helpless to do anything but watch as she flips and twists in midair. Beside you, Agatha mutters something about showing off.

When the bird pauses and hovers, there is a flash of white light, and the letter is gone from your hands and tied instead around her leg.

Agatha scoffs, “Obedire.”

“Obedire.”

A strong burst of movement brings her back to perch on Agatha, head bowed. You tilt your head. Agatha strokes a finger over the back of the raven's head, scratching lightly.

“To the castle.”

A warble and she’s off, flying North with single-minded focus.

There’s a certain wistfulness in watching her go. What must it be like to fly, to have the freedom of the world laid out before you? Yet, she isn’t truly free; remaining captive to a Mistress who only lets her take to the skies when it suits her. How alike the two of you are.

James is staring at the still-caged ravens. One of his fingers is stuck through the bars and scratching along the raven’s head in a mirror of Agatha. It warbles, shifting closer, but doesn’t take its eyes off of its Mistress.

“It can’t be that easy.” Darcy says, arms crossed.

“Ravens are far more intelligent than horses,” Agatha shrugs, “and easier to care for. Treat them properly and they’ll do whatever you command.”

“They’re so sweet.” James coos, earning affectionate noises from the group, “Oh yes you are.”

One bird has remained on the other side of the cage away from James. Their eyes aren’t wary like you’d expect, just… curious. They sparkle with awareness.

Faintly, you hear Darcy and Agatha bickering over the merits of horses vs ravens, but you pay them little mind. You cross around the large cage to where the lone raven sits. They follow your approach.

You crouch to be eye level. The raven tilts their head.

“Hello,” You murmur, “what are you doing over here all alone?”

As expected they do not talk back. They don’t even warble. Fluttering their wings, you wait for them to cross around to another section of the enclosure blissfully absent of people. Yet, their wings settle and they bow their head.

The pose offers you a closer view under their plumage. You can see the true length of their dark feathers, where they come to connect to hidden flesh. A white protrusion among the plumage brings you pause.

Every glimpse of your Father’s ravens had been from afar; seeing them fly around his office and listening to his curses when they didn’t land at his command, or catching sight of one when they escaped their enclosure and dove through the nearest window. You’re left at a loss when faced with the trust being presented.

Would it be worth attempting to help, or will you only cause harm in your ignorance?

“A pin feather,” Agatha says right beside your ear.

You jump.

Agatha is bent next to your crouched form, propped up by one hand on the trunk where the cage sits. The position puts her face just slightly above your own. When you turn, your eyes unconsciously dart to her lips, before meeting her eyes.

The look on her face is curious. She’s taking you in like one takes in a specimen they’re studying.

“How do I fix it?”

“Pinch gently and roll it between your fingers.”

When you reach in, the raven bows her head again. She is utterly still as you follow Agatha’s instructions to the letter. Her head pops up and shakes—the white covering falling away. She nuzzles your hand sweetly.

“Say ‘thank you,’ Aquila.” Agatha says.

Aquila lets out a sound that is remarkably similar to thank you. You blink.

When you regard Agatha, you catch a glimpse of the expression leveled at Aquila and the other ravens; pure, uninterrupted affection. The emotion softens her features, eyes crinkled at the edges, lips upturned. Her beauty is striking.

Darcy and James watch from your periphery. You shake yourself from the trance you’re in.

“We should go.” You say, hushed.

Agatha turns, looking over your features, and nods. She straightens and offers out a hand. You take it. In a swift turn, she weaves your arm over her own, acting the part of lead. 

Her face is neutral, but beneath her gaze, your companions fidget and shift.

“If you return my ravens in any state less than what they’re in now, I will torture you slowly.” The statement is punctuated by a raised brow.

“We—We’ll take good care of them.” James vows.

Agatha nods. She regards you, waiting.

“Be careful. Send a letter if anything changes, but don’t go searching for anomalies—am I understood?”

Darcy nods. A haunted look passes over James’ face, dimming the usual light in his eyes. Without so much as a glance to his companion he steps forward.

“Your Majesty, may I have a word with you privately?”

You blink, grip on Agatha’s arm tensing unconsciously.

“Of course.”

Agatha releases you with a sideways glance. You focus on your advisor and friend, who at the moment resembles a wilted flower. Grim is the expression he wears; an expression you haven’t seen in a long time.

He leads you until you stand at his side under a half-blackened tree. The bark on one side is perfect, not a divot out of place, while the other side crumbles at a glance. You run your fingers along the dying side and wish for it to one day grow strong again.

Looking back, you see Agatha and Darcy side-by-side, both pointedly ignoring one another; Agatha reading a book without actually handling the pages and Darcy looking around, lips puckered in a whistle.

“Is something wrong, James?” You ask when he comes to a stop.

He fidgets. Meeting your eyes, he gives you a long look. Tilting your head makes him look away. He clears his throat once, then twice.

“Your Majesty, I— Well, you see, we—” James sighs, then blurts, “Have you given any thought to an heir?”

You blink.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Marriages usually bring about heirs to fill the succession, Your Majesty, and with another conflict seeming imminent I believe having something in place is worthwhile. Has there been a discussion between you and your—Her Highness?”

“I’m familiar with the expectations of marriage,” If your voice is a touch frosty, you don’t give it much attention, “and I don’t much appreciate that the topic of conversation in private parlors pertains to my marriage bed.”

“Your Majesty—”

“What is it you suggest, James? Am I to bring a child into what could turn out to be another war?” You snarl.

James flinches. Upon seeing this, regret turns a knife in your chest.

“No,” He says, quietly, “You know I’d never suggest such a thing.”

Anger is rung out of you like water from a towel, you ask, carefully, “What would you suggest I do?”

“Appoint a successor. If you do it, The Council can’t do it for you should you…”

You nod.

“I will consider it.”

“Safe travels, Your Majesty.”

When you walk from the half-dying tree, you walk alone to the carriage. Along the way Agatha falls into step at your side. You cannot find the energy to hate her company.

-- --

You had been a precocious child; at only six, testing the might of your station against the will of those left to care for you. As Crown Princess, your commands had superseded that of your minders the second you drew breath. Once or twice you’d felt guilty about how Celine—your governess—would puff up, only to deflate and bow with a ‘yes, Princess’—but the guilt was washed away by the incentive of whatever you’d wormed your way into.

By seven, your Father had been made wise to your behavior; though you could never figure out how; you had long since commanded all your minders not to speak a word of your commands. But he knew and sought to punish you in a manner that made a lasting impression.

He let you sit in silence.

Silence, he had said, was the best teacher. One cannot ignore their innermost self if they’re forced to face them.

The room he had the servants make up was plain; boasting only a cushioned chair in the center of the space. You were not permitted to drag said chair over to the window. The task of sitting with your thoughts was as simple as the room, and far more boring.

Guards were posted outside the door to see you were not disturbed or harmed. No servants were allowed in otherwise.

You’d thought him a silly old man. In the absence of distractions you had your wild, adventuring mind to keep you busy—you would not fall into whatever trap he believed he’d set.

But two hours turned into four and your head ached with the effort of conjuring up more daydreams. Then you slept. When you woke, there was no more sunlight, and your head no longer hurt. You imagined you were a bird flying through the window and laughing in your Father’s face. It did not satisfy you. You paced the room, then sat back down, then paced again. Despite having rested, your body began to ache with exhaustion and the pain in your head from before returned.

“I hate him.” You’d whispered, then immediately regretted it.

For how busy he was, he still found a sliver of time each week to see you. Sometimes it was something quick like sitting in on one of your lessons, or, on special occasions he’d join you and your Mother for dinner. For how harsh he could be at times, you’d never been anything but excited when he walked in the room. 

The guilt at the words spoken to yourself prompted your mind to spiral. How else had you been cruel, spewing awful words where it was not deserved?

You had been unkind, you’d realized. By commanding the servants in ways you had no right to, you had opened them up to punishments of which they were undeserving. Above all else, you were still a Princess; not yet of the right to command in the ways your Father did.

Guilt was a powerful emotion. And when your governess was permitted to peer in, she found you on the floor before the seat you’d been allowed, knees to chest, shaking with tears.

The moments following had been a blur. You think Celine had tried to usher you to your feet, but it’s a missing piece; all you remember is being carried from the room and falling asleep, waking to your Father standing above you.

“You’ve learned your lesson?”

You nodded.

“Good,” He offered a stilted pat to your head, “Do not forget it.”

The guilt had made you sick for the remainder of the week; everything you ate, save for the smallest portions, found the way back up. Celine was one of your only visitors, with the exception of your Mother and your teachers.

Your Father had been right in the end; silence had been your greatest educator.

You wish you were alone with the silence now, but as of late, everywhere and everything is touched by Agatha. She sits on the other carriage bench, book held magically aloft as she reads.

To say you’ve been through a lot in a day would be selling your experiences short; yet your mind keeps returning to the blood on that sword and the sickening pride of knowing she had no way out. You had, for a moment, tasted victory—revenge. And now you close your eyes against the nausea it brings. How close you’d come to condemning your people, all to satisfy your sickening desire.

She had remembered your goal; but was it only to manipulate you into keeping her alive? In her words there had been a subtle promise of usefulness, of protection. Subtle isn’t what you need.

You’ve no idea how long Agatha’s been alive. The true weight of her power is a mystery to you that you’re not likely to solve alone. Her peers could judge her power, but would any come if you called? You need to bind her power to what serves your people but short of a Witch’s Vow there’s nothing—

A Witch’s Vow.

The forgotten thought itching at the back of your mind is realized. You thrum with satisfaction.

“You made a promise today, to help my people—I want you to swear on it.”

Agatha gazes up, a lazy smile stretching, “Very well, dear. I swear.”

“Make a Witch’s Vow over it.”

She goes still. The smile vanishes and something passes through her eyes. The book that levitates before her dissipates in a pop.

“And if I don’t?”

“You will.”

“Demanding a Witch’s Vow does not bind me to one.”

“It would protect you.”

“Protect me?” Agatha scoffs.

“You make this vow to me and I’ll pause my attempts in killing you.”

“I’m not afraid of you, dear.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure you’re afraid of her.” You say, tilting your head. A smug smile stretches over your features, “And what’s to stop her from coming after you again, should I ask?”

“Your shortsightedness is embarrassing, darling, I thought we were past this; if I die, you and your people follow.”

“Given your unwillingness to swear aid, it seems we’ll die either way. I’m simply planning for the outcome with the greatest reward.”

You watch her, she watches you. Her narrowed eyes dart over various planes of your face and for once you have no desire to shrink under the scrutiny. Had she wanted to kill you, you’re confident she’d have done so already; no, she wants you alive, and that can be used to your advantage.

Her eyes glow purple and hands clench in her skirts. Agatha sighs and her eyes return to their normal blue.

“You’re as open a book as they come, it’s a wonder she even needed into your mind.” Agatha rolls her eyes, “We need to work on that.”

You tuck your curiosity away for later, “Will you make the Vow or not?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll make your silly vow. Name your terms.”

“I want you and your magic sworn to the service of the kingdom—and that you will not act against it over the duration of our agreement.”

“No. New terms.”

“Those are my terms.”

“Swearing my magic to the service of your kingdom restricts my use of it for any other purpose. I’m not wasting my time on the same trick.”

“It wouldn’t be forever. You’re only bound until I dissolve the agreement.”

She leans forward, baring her teeth, blackened hands stopping just short of grabbing you. Her nails seem longer, sharper. Should she grab you, you fear for the damage they’d wreak on your flesh.

“I know your manipulative little mind, darling, and I won’t let you chain me to your kingdom until it no longer pleases you.” Agatha snarls, “New. terms.”

Despite the show of force, that sense of calm remains. You see the heart of her, the fear swimming in her eyes over the idea of being chained, restricted. Powerless. Does the fear of losing her own power fuel her joy at taking your own?

You should feel offended that she thinks so little of you—never have you desired to chain someone, to bind them—but the better side of you seldom interacts with her. The idea of her in chains pleases you. You shift as that pleasure makes itself known at the apex of your thighs.

“During the duration of our deal, you’ll act in the best interests of the kingdom. If there are threats, you’ll do what you can to handle them; and if there are people in need, you’ll lend your power to aid them.”

Agatha regards you thoughtfully, “No little clause about not killing you?”

“My death serves no benefit to my people.”

Her eyebrows raise. With a shake of her head she holds out her hand, palm up. You mimic the action.

An artful flick of her fingers and a wisp of violet summon an ornate dagger into her open hand. The hilt is short, silver wrapped in indigo briars that while appearing sharp don’t seem to mar Agatha’s hand. A blade of black metal extends from it, curving to-and-fro, until sharpening to an intense point.

You wince at the sight of it, “Can you not… use magic?”

“You want a sacred Vow, don't you?” Agatha scoffs, “There’s no Vow more sacred than that made with a Coven Blade.”

“You don’t have a coven.”

Agatha scowls, “I am aware. It was inherited.”

“From who?”

“My Mother.”

“If it belongs to her coven, shouldn’t one of her fellowship have it?”

“They would,” She says, turning and holding the blade point-down above her palm, “if they weren’t all dead.”

Without so much as a wince, she carves an X in the center of her palm, flesh parting cleanly. Blood pools in her hand.

“Oh.”

She moves so fast you don’t know to anticipate the pain until it blossoms up your arm. Looking down, you wear a matching X, complete with the ever-growing pool of blood.

Agatha presses her palm to the top of your forearm, just below where it meets the elbow. Blood seeps between her fingers and around the curve of your arm.

“I, Agatha Harkness, swear upon my blood and gifts, that I will act in the best interests of your kingdom. I will destroy any entity that threatens these interests and lend my power to those within your borders that require its support.” As she speaks, she drags her hand down the length of your forearm, leaving a smear of red in its wake. When she clasps your palms together, she looks at you, magic swirling in her eyes, “This is my Vow to you.”

Upon the final word, lavender flame erupts down the length of your arm and her own, burning away the blood left behind. It moves and wedges its way between your interlocked palms. The light that emits, violet and white and so bright it burns, forcing your eyes closed. The flesh of your palm is mended as if nothing happened.

Agatha’s palm still bears the X, though healed.

“So I don’t forget.” She winks.

“If you did, what would happen?”

“For something small, maybe a little zap, some exhaustion.” Agatha shrugs, “Something large… I’m sure the punishment would fit the crime. Eager to see me tortured, are you?”

You do your best to ignore the salacious grin.

“I want to be sure you won’t get off easy, that’s all.”

“Getting off is plenty easy with the right help.”

The roll of your eyes doesn’t hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. She cackles at the sight. You don’t attempt to muster a glare, convinced it would only amuse her further.

“What is your plan for protecting the borders?”

Her eyes still twinkle with amusement. You’re not sure what is so funny.

“Protecting the borders is a little difficult since she’s within them, dear, but I can exclude that section from my wards if it pleases you.”

“How?”

“We do not have time for you to learn the basics of casting.”

“Fine,” You sigh, “but I want the wards handled discreetly.”

“I’m not all explosions and smoke-clouds—that was only to get your attention.” She smirks.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Yes.”

Villages faced with the might of Agatha’s forces had once chosen between fighting or fleeing. Though some had made a third choice; hanging themselves from rafters at the whisper of impending invasion.

Monica had gone to pay respects in your place, once. When she returned, she had requested three days leave. The look in her eye she returned with has never gone away.

It’s been weeks since the threat of Agatha was settled; what would the people do if they caught wind of another war on the horizon?

Agatha sighs, as if reading the thoughts on your face, “I will be discreet. Best interests of the kingdom, remember?”

“I want to go with you.”

“That is the opposite of discreet.”

“We’ll go under the cover of night—”

“I know you’re woefully uneducated in the ways of witchcraft, but the weight of transporting two beings and setting wards of the size we’ll require? Too much, even for me.”

“There has to be a way. Please.”

The hard lines of her face soften just so. Her blue eyes are contemplative, seeing more than you would like.

“Two of the sites are on our way. The others I’ll handle alone—a sudden tour of the borders might raise a few suspicions.” 

You deflate. Something within you that had once been ready to argue turns to liquid, slithering around your heart, tugging on all the little strings that make your eyes water.

“Thank you.” You say. 

“Don’t thank me yet.”

[spectralscathath]

Tour Guide to the Unexplained- A Gravity Falls Fanfiction

Chapter 3- Monster Truck

Stan and Ford didn’t expect much when getting shipped up to Gravity Falls to stay with estranged family. Not a truck-stealing creature, not scary movies, and definitely not the Mystery Shack and their lying uncle who runs it. But with Ford’s smarts and Stan’s punching, there’s no mystery they can’t solve.

Ao3 Link

"A sleepover, Stanley, can you believe it?" Ford beamed as he screwed in another bit of plating on his magnet gun, Test Design #1. Lucky that the attic that had been turned into their room had a bunch of stored random stuff he could use. He'd cleaned up a bit in preparation for tonight, made more space. "We've never had one before!"

"What's all the 'we' about?" Stan flicked through one of The Grimdark Chronicles comics, lying on his bed. Ford had gotten the first one in the series because he thought he'd like the supernatural mystery story, but it was just depressing. Stan seemed to like it though, at least. 

Maybe it could get him to start drawing again? Ford missed reading Lil Stanley, it was funny. 

"Sixer?"

"Oh. Sorry." Zoned out again, too stuck in his head. It kept happening. "I just mean- we've never had friends to have a sleepover with? Aren't you excited?"

"They're your friends, poindexter," Stan rolled his eyes and munched on toffee peanuts. Ford had been trying to get him to store his food in the kitchen, where food was supposed to be stored, but Stan was convinced something was eating them. It was probably Grunkle Dipper. "Why would I be excited?"

"I- because-" didn't Stan want a sleepover? "What's going on with you?"

"Nothin'." Stan flicked a page of the comic and offered the bag of snacks. “Want one?”

"No, I don’t want a toffee peanut! Something's going on with you!" Ford knew it, he knew it- "First you don't wanna go to a party even though we've never been to one, now you don't want a sleepover? These are normal things boys our age do, it's exciting."

Stan sighed and closed the comic, sitting up and stretching. "Yeah, for you, maybe. Bet you're gonna do a whole buncha nerdy stuff. No thanks."

Ford pouted. "C'mon, Stanley, you could at least give it a try. Tad said he'll bring over his MonsterMon cards and his Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons kit. I've always wanted to play those." But dad thought they were frivolous.

"You know that stuff's got too much math for me," Stan laughed. 

"I could help you with the math!" Why didn't Stanley want to play with him? "Are you mad at me?"

Okay, now Stanley was looking at him like he was being dumb. Which was weird, because he normally made that face at Stan. Being on this end of it was not normal. 

"What? I'm not mad at you, doofus." 

"Then what are you mad at?" It had to be something. 

"Hot Belgian Waffles, I'm not mad at anything," Stan rolled his eyes. "You gotta stop overthinking things."

"But I-" was that what he was doing? He fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket, pulling them over his hands a bit. "Hm."

"Told ya." Stan shrugged.

"What are you gonna do instead then?" The idea of Stanley being alone didn't feel right. Maybe he still felt guilty for ditching Stan at the party.

"I was gonna ask Grunkle Dipper if I could watch one of his old horror movies he's got beside the TV."

"Stanley, those are scary!" And absolutely none of them were PG-rated. 

"I know, right?" Stan's eyes sparkled. "Maybe he'll let me watch one of the really scary ones."

Ford pulled a face. "Then I'm definitely not joining you."

"Yeah, I figured," Stan snickered and hopped down off the bed, stuffing his toffee peanuts in his vest with a singsong. "Doo-dilly–doo, hidin' my snacks- You comin'?"

"Where?"

"To let your friends in?" Stan looked at him with That Face again. "It's four pm already, nerd."

"Oh my gosh, is it really?" Ford jumped to his feet like he'd been shocked and ran downstairs, nearly tripping over his extra toes in his haste to get to the door.

He adjusted his glasses and pulled it open, beaming wide at Tad and Fiddleford, Fiddleford's hand raised as if to knock. "Hi! You got the right door!"

"The gift shop entryway looked crowded," Fiddleford smiled, a banjo in his other hand. 

"Hi. I brought various activities." Tad lifted the boxes in his hands to show them off, and Ford forgot completely about everything else because there it was: Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons! 

Finally, he could put all those ideas he had for characters and enemies and dungeons into play! He'd done so much research!

"Come in!" He held the door open for them. "You've met my brother Stanley-"

"It's 'Stan' to you guys," Stanley leaned against the wall, jumping when Dipper leapt into the room, in full Mr Mystery gear, fists raised in a fighting stance.

"I heard intruders and I know Dan's fixing my truck! Come get some!"

"... and that's our Grunkle Dipper." Ford sighed. "Dipper, you said I could have a sleepover yesterday, remember?"

"Oh." Dipper relaxed from his fighting stance and scratched the back of his neck. "I did?"

"Yep. You were sleeping in your truck before though, mighta forgot." Stan confirmed. 

"Well." Dipper looked like he was processing before he waved at Tad and Fiddleford. "Hi, I'm Dipper Pines."

"Hello."

"Aft'rnoon."

"You both live in town?" Dipper joined Stan in leaning against the wall, scanning both of Ford's friends in interest. What was he looking for?

"I'm from Tennessee. Got sent up here to stay with my pa Tate on account of-" Fiddleford paused. "Reasons."

"Wait, the lake guy?" Dipper tilted his hat up. "Huh. I'm banned from renting boats there."

"Yeah… your picture's up on the 'banned forever' wall beside Old Lady Chiu's."

"Okay, we're gonna go set up, thank you!" Ford tried to rush his friends past his weird Grunkle. "Our room's up this way."

"Don't touch my stuff, poindexter," Stan reminded him before he turned. "Grunkle Dipper-"

#

"- can I watch one of your scary movies?" Stan asked, certain he'd get a yes. Dipper was pretty 'free-range' in his guardian style. 

Dipper stared up the stairs. "Was that kid holding D, D, & More D?"

"Yeah, Ford's always wanted to play it," Stan shrugged. "What a nerd, amirite?"

"Oh, I love that game," Dipper blinked a few times before he seemed to zone back in. "What was the question again?"

Stan groaned and smacked his forehead. Really? "I wanna watch one of your horror movies while my brother's having a sleepover. Can I?"

"You don't want to play with him and his friends?" Dipper's brows did that furrow they did every time he got puzzled. He seemed to do it a lot when talking to Stan and Ford. 

"Nah." Stan shrugged it off, stuffing his hands into his pockets and staring at an old stain on the floor. "His friends, after all. I don't really like all that stuff anyway." 

He wasn't lying when he said he wasn't angry. Just wasn't happy either. He and Ford were supposed to do everything together, they weren't meant to have anyone but each other. But Ford did now, he had friends, and Stan wanted to be a good brother, be happy for his brother's success, like always. Ford succeeded and Stan stayed outta the way, that was how dad preferred things.  He could do that. He and Ford could hang out another time. Stan was no leech.

Dipper knelt down to his level and put a hand on his shoulder. Stan tensed a bit, just because. He wasn't big on touch, he and Ford just weren't. 

"Hey. I get it." There was a faraway look in Dipper's eyes before he focused. He and Ford both did that a lot, got stuck in their heads. "How about this: I gotta go give a tour before I close down for the day, so how about you go and get Dan to show you some car stuff, and after dinner you can pick a movie and I'll watch it with you. They're better when it's dark anyway."

Stan perked up. "You wanna watch a movie with me?" And not play Ford’s nerd game he said he liked?

"Kid, they're my movies," Dipper laughed. "Like heck I'm missing a chance for a rewatch."

"You got yourself a deal," Stan grinned and stuck out his hand to shake. 

Dipper's whole body retracted like a mollusc Stan once saw on Glass Shard Beach, staring at Stan's offered handshake like he was going to be sick, before he put on a smile and ruffled Stan's hair instead. “Now go bother Dan."

"Okay." Stan grinned toothily and grabbed his sneakers, pulling them on and running outside, past the remaining tourist cars still in the dirt patch that was technically a parking lot. Some of the cars were nice, he thought, if he knew cars. 

He didn't know much beyond what Shermie had told him, but it sounded like knowing cars was a cool thing. Not only that, but Shermie finally buying his car with his own money had been the first time Stan saw what freedom looked like on someone else's face. Stan's freedom might have been a boat and a promise to sail away, but cars could be a good Plan B. 

Boyish Dan was elbows deep in Dipper's truck, flannel sleeves rolled up his biceps. He had to be the only sixteen-year-old Stan knew with a beard. He was huge. 

"Hi, Dan." He still didn't know how to talk to this guy. He seemed loud. "Grunkle Dipper said you're working on his truck?"

“Yeah!” Dan grabbed him with one hand and hefted him up onto his shoulder, no hesitation or strain in it.

Stan laughed in disbelief and waved his arms to keep his balance. "Jeez Louise- what do they feed you out here, Dan? I'm not that tiny!"

"Yeah, you are!" Dan grinned at him through the beard, a gap between his front teeth. This close, it looked a little wispy in places, but still. It was a beard. Stan didn't have one, didn't even have stubble. "Don't feel bad, Mr Pines ain't the biggest guy 'round either, but he's definitely the best!"

"Yeah, I'm curious about that," Stan admitted bluntly. "You're like, some sorta hardcore woodsman, right?"

"Whole family is!" Dan boasted proudly. "You seen that big mansion on the hill? Us Corduroys cleared that whole mountain and built it hundreds'a years ago!"

"Wow, so it's like, in your blood. Hardcore."

"Yeah, but my uncles are kinda weird about it." Dan's volume dropped to a normal speaking level, something Stan wasn't sure was possible. "They drive my mom crazy, always yellin', doing stuff just 'cuz they think it's manly. I love 'em, but I don't wanna stress out my mom too. And Mr Pines is the manliest guy in town and he doesn't do that stuff!"

"You think my uncle's manly?" He listened to girly music and did all the cooking. That wasn't very manly by Pines standards. 

"Listen, little man!" Dan closed the hood of the truck, lifting Stan to stand on it. He still wasn't sure about being lifted around in one hand like a kitten, but it was also super cool, so he could live with it. "Mr Pines is the smartest, toughest, strongest, bravest, MANLIEST man in Gravity Falls! And if he hadn't told me not to punch people for saying otherwise, I'da punched everyone in town who does! But I don't gotta punch 'em, because being a man isn't about throwing your weight around just because you can!"

"It's not?" Stan blurted out. Dad threw his weight around all the time. He had so much weight that all it took was a word sometimes. 

"NO!" Dan paused and cleared his throat. "Sorry. Workin' on a 'inside voice'. My uncles think that way sometimes. The Gleefuls think that way. But I ain't seen them take on a manotaur without blinking!"

"A what?" Did he say that right? Wasn't that one of Ford's myth stories? Stan didn't remember.

"I said what I said! Bein' a man's 'bout a lot more than flexing muscles and thinkin' you're the best 'cuz of it!"

"Is that why you work for him?" Stan still wasn't sure how Dipper was meant to be any of that stuff Dan said. 

"Yeah! And my mom thinks it'll be good for me, said a job might make me chill out!"

"You can tell her it's working." Stan couldn't resist a little sarcasm. 

"Yeah!" Dan threw his meaty fists up in the air. "So you ready to learn about trucks, little man?!"

"You kiddin'? 'Course I am- uh, big guy!" Dan was kinda weird, but not bad weird. Fun weird. He scrambled back onto Dan's shoulders as Dan opened the engine up again, and decided to be nice in return. "Hey, want a toffee peanut?"

He pulled out the bag of toffee peanuts and shook it in offer, a few crumbs falling into the truck. 

He didn't see a tiny three-fingered hand reach out from beneath the engine block and pull them in.

#

"Wow, you even have minifigures!" Ford's eyes were huge behind his glasses. 

"I do," Tad smiled serenely, setting out all his D,D, & more D stuff. "I'm not very good at being a dungeon master though. Would either of you like to take the role?"

Ford wanted to, so so bad, but- "Fiddleford?"

"Gracious, no, I'm fine being a player. Too much to keep track of," Fiddleford looked around Ford's room in interest, steering clear of Stan's stuff that Ford pointed out. Stan did ask them to stay outta it. "I like all the splinters."

"You sound like Stan," Ford laughed. "I hate splinters. You know- yesterday Waddles Jr. was on my bed? Sometimes Grunkle Dipper lets him in the house."

"Pigs are very affectionate creatures," Fiddleford smiled fondly, poking at the stained glass window. The window had a strange design, arrows and diamonds and circles. It looked a little like an anchor, but definitely wasn’t. "I like the design here, very intricate. Looks freshly put in?"

"Yeah, a lot of the windows are new," Ford had noticed as well. "Not sure why they all need to be Waddles-themed or question marks or whatever that thing is, you'd think he could keep the branding to the tourist part of the house."

"There's a recurring issue with property defacement in town." Tad noted, setting out all his dice in neat rows. "People find windows broken and scratches in buildings or landmarks. Very strange. Perhaps Mr Mystery was the most recent victim."

"Really?" Ford reached for the diary. If Fiddleford and Tad were going to tease him on it they would have done it already. "There's no mention of that in this diary."

"I was meaning to ask about that there book of yours," Fiddleford crossed his legs as he sat down. "What is it?"

"It's a diary of someone who came to Gravity Falls, I think they were… maybe a researcher?" It was ambiguous. "But they catalogued all of the weird supernatural stuff here, it's fascinating. And the pages stop halfway through, it's so cool!"

"Gravity Falls is quite unusual," Tad smiled, pulling emergency bread from his backpack. "My parents moved here from the Southwest, they quite like how it reminded them of their old town. Personally, I like how unique it is."

"So you grew up here? Maybe you know some stuff the diary missed?" 

"Maybe," Tad shrugged with a smile. "We'll compare some time."

"I'm not very fond of all that spookifying stuff myself." Fiddleford reached for his banjo, plucking the strings in a random pattern. "Back in Tennessee my family would tease me a lot, make up scary stories about things, things that sound like people but aren't, things that live in the fields and watch you, things that take the pigs in the night. Fake stuff, I told myself. But- I swear I saw somethin' in the lake here one time, somethin' big."

"Really?" Ford pulled out a pen. "Where did you see it? Did you get a look at any defining traits?"

"No. I wish I could forget it," Fiddleford sighed and tuned a banjo string. "I don't handle that type of things very well."

"That's okay," Ford hesitated before he patted Fiddleford's shoulder. "You just like other types of science better than cryptozoology, I guess."

"We can phrase it that way, sure," Fiddleford stated dryly. "You sure your brother doesn't want to join us?"

"Nah, Stan said he doesn't wanna play. Je and Grunkle Dipper are gonna watch a movie instead." Ford started setting up D, D, & more D. "Maybe after this you could give me some pointers on my magnet gun idea?"

"Sure can."

Ford smiled as Tad set down a figurine on the graph paper, and rolled the 38-sided die across the back of his fingers, blushing only a little when he fumbled it. He just had to practice.

Fiddleford and Tad were fun to play with, making good use of a Rogue/Cleric duo as they began working through the starter adventure provided by the guide. Ford grew more confident, starting to put his own spin on things, add in new enemies, build towards a twist in the plotline. 

They had just cleared their third encounter, a group of coldbolds with a surprise buzzbear from Ford drawn by the noise, and had entered the main starter dungeon when Boyish Dan threw open the door and yelled, "The truck! Ate! Stan!"

Ford dropped the handful of dice he was holding. "What?!" 

"I was showing him how to check tire pressure!" Dan pulled off his hat, clutching it in massive hands. His knuckles were raw and red. "I tried punching it and it didn't give him back!"

"Can you get Mr Mystery?" Tad smiled brightly. 

"He's doing a tour, he's doing a tour now." Dan fumbled with his hat. "Help?"

"Yes!" Ford yanked his shoes on. He couldn't even be mad that Stan had interrupted his sleepover and his game. How did a car eat someone? "Boyish Dan, did you see anything strange?"

"The back of the truck grew a trunk lid! And scales!"

"Scales…" Ford flipped through the diary. "Here! Gremobiles, it's a type of gremlin- they're a subspecies of the goblin family- that can meld with a vehicle, the author had to fight one that stole a bus and had to rip it out of the engine block." The caricature of the angry monster was super funny, the author gave it a silly face.

"How?" Fiddleford looked over his shoulder, scanning the page as well. 

"Grappling hook, apparently." Ford put the diary away. "If my magnet gun was finished I'd use that-"

"I can finish it," Fiddleford promised and pulled out his tools from his belt. "Go get your brother."

"Tad Strange would welcome the excitement of fighting a living vehicle." Tad grabbed a baseball bat from the pile of random stuff that the twins shared the attic with and gave it a twirl.

"Let's go." Ford nodded at him and Dan and rushed down the stairs, past the museum area of the house.

"Behold!" Dipper's voice was muffled by the closed door. "Genuine cursed pirate gold! Look at how the coins turn invisible when removed from the water! Who wants to try and grab a coin? Twenty bucks if you do!"

Ford scoffed at the shameless scam and followed Boyish Dan out to the dirt parking lot, looking for the offending Gremobile. 

Dipper's truck did not look like it was supposed to. The faded blue paint had been replaced by green-brown scales, the hood popped open to show the top half of the little monster fused with the engine block. The headlights glowed red and the back, normally open, had more of those scales, grown over the open space. The lil monster had a mohawk, shoving something in its mouth and chomping away. Ford recognised the packaging. 

"Toffee Peanuts. That must have been why it ate Stanley!" So maybe Stanley was right about something stealing his snacks.

Ford could hear muffled banging from inside that space and swore his vision went red, like that time Crampelter broke Stanley's nose and knocked out a tooth. Ford hadn’t been as good at boxing as Stanley, but he’d still pounced on Crampelter like a rabid possum, biting and clawing to protect his twin. 

"Over here!" He yelled at it. "Everyone spread out, we need to keep it distracted until Fiddleford finishes the magnet gun! Then we can hold the truck still and rip the Gremobile out!" He was gonna break every part of its face. No one hurt Stanley. Not in front of Ford.

#

Stan's hands hurt from where he'd been trying to punch his way out. He tried not to think about how much his braced wrist- two days 'til that was off- hurt more than the other. It was basically healed anyway, how much damage could he do?

Also- it had started getting really slimy and soft and slippery in here, and that was making it hard to find anything he could hit. 

He reached into his pockets, wondering if maybe now was the time for the pocket knife, he didn't think he could smoke bomb his way out. It was dark too, he was too old to be scared of the dark, but-

He heard the engine rev and roar before he was thrown around a bunch, elbows and knees knocking against the sides. The slime coated him and smelt gross, he clamped his mouth and eyes shut, hands over his ears so it didn't get in any of the holes in his face.

There was one massive move that knocked him against the far side, right as it stopped being all soft and squishy and sunlight hit him. "HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES!"

Ow. His head hurt. He cracked open an eye and squinted up at the sky. Ford's face appeared right in front of him and he yelped, leaning back and hitting his head again.

"Stan!" Ford beamed. "You're okay!"

"Sweet Moses, Sixer, warn a guy first," he grumbled. "What happened?"

"You were eaten by a gremobile, which must have gotten a taste for your candy. My magnet gun held it still long enough for Dan to rip it out- Look!" Ford pointed and Stan poked his head out of the truck bed. 

Dan held up a tiny weird thing in his massive fist, scaled and green-brown, with a wild mohawk and no legs. It held an empty packet of-

"Hey, my toffee peanuts!"

"Ready for a home run?!" Dan prepared to drop the evil little critter, trying to gnaw through his hand like an angry ferret.

"I'm a bit rusty, but we'll see." Tad stood right beside him with a serene, unblinking smile, and drew back a baseball bat, winding up a swing.

Dan dropped the monster and Tad knocked it clear into the woods, its fading shriek all that was left of it as it went flying off to probably die somewhere. Fiddleford stood beside them and whooped at the sight, holding Ford's magnet gun.

"Okay that was cool." Stan admitted. "Help me up?"

"Uhhhhh-" Ford leaned back from him. "I think that's some sort of mucus. Or saliva. Or- uh, other fluids. I'm good."

Stan looked at the slime covering him and got an evil idea, grinning at his brother as he shifted his weight. Slime time. Ford looked at him, recognition sparking followed by immediate horror.

"Stan? Stanley Pines don't you dare- STANLEY!" Ford shrieked like a girl as he jumped out of the truck, Stan's goop-covered pounce barely missing him. 

"Coward!" Stan clambered out of the truck after him, laughing even as he slipped and landed face first in the dirt. 

"Ohmygosh are you okay?" Ford dithered, just enough hesitance for Stanley to grab him and smosh ooze into Ford's hair. 

"Gotcha!" Stan went for the noogie, really wedge it all in there.

"Ew! What's wrong with you, I don't wanna get slimed!" Ford yelled, but he was giggling as he pushed Stan off.

Stan felt a hand on his shoulder and tensed, looking up as Tad Strange lifted his hand, examined the goo, and slapped his own face with it. 

"Slime fight." He looked way too pleased with himself.

"That's no slime fight," Fiddleford chuckled, standing with Boyish Dan with his arms crossed. "When your cousins dunk you in a pig pen- that's a slime fight."

Stanley's eyes sparkled as he glanced at Waddles Jr's shed. Since when were Ford's nerd friends into gross things? And giving him tips on messing with his twin? "Ford?"

"Do it and I'll dye your hair pink." Ford warned him. "I'm not joking, Stanley. Also we need to go wash off."

"C'mon, Fordsy-"

"No, seriously, this is disgusting." Ford's hands hovered over his hair, unwilling to touch the gunk. "Tad, why would you do this willingly?"

"I am driven by an insatiable curiosity."

"I like you, Strange, you and Fidds are pretty cool," Stan announced, brushing himself off a bit. His head wasn't even hurting anymore. 

Dan lumbered over to kneel down in front of him, face pulled in a scowl. "I'm sorry you got eaten, little man!"

"All good, big guy," Stan gave him a thumbs up. "You gotta show me more car stuff some time, it's really interesting."

Dan's frown turned into a smile and he hugged Stan so tight it mighta cracked a rib, hefting him off his feet. Stan froze up, fists clenching on instinct and sending a bolt of pain up his hand before he relaxed. He should have figured a hug from Dan would be like getting hugged by a furnace. A furnace with a chokehold. 

He patted part of Dan's arm, wheezing the words out. "Gotta breathe, big guy."

"Right!" Dan set him back down. "No injuries?"

"Nope!" Stan gave him a big thumbs up. "Thought I'd have to chew my way out though!"

"That would severely damage your teeth," Ford informed him. "Fiddleford, Tad? You alright?"

"I barely had to see that nasty lil beast," Fiddleford twirled the magnet gun over and over in his hands. "Workin' on a solution sure does help."

"Tad Strange has never felt more alive." Tad hefted the bat across his shoulders, and Stan…

Well, they were Ford's friends first, but maybe he could be okay with them. He could be friendly, or as friendly as he was capable of. These weren't going to be the kinds of kids who played mean games like 'pretend to be a friend to play a mean prank'. That happened once and Stan made sure it wouldn't happen again. Tommy-Tim still had a scar through his eyebrow from where the skin split.

"Whoa- what's going on out here?" All five heads shot to the entryway to the gift shop. Dipper stood with his hands on his hips, some of his Mr Mystery attitude in place. 

"Slime fight." Tad informed him. 

"It's coolant!" Fiddleford jumped in with a lie before anyone could tell their grunkle about the genuine supernatural creature. Stan clicked his tongue. Ford wouldn't be pleased about that.

"Oh- you should not have that on your skin," Dipper winced. "Anyway- everyone, outta the parking lot and out the back, this tour's on its way out of the gift shop and I don't want anyone getting hit by a tour bus, so go on, get, skoosh, shoo." he waved them towards the back of the clearing.

"Yes, Mr Pines!" Dan agreed, before he physically pushed the truck back into place, because Dan was a beast and Stan was quickly placing him high on the 'cool person' list. Not above Carla, but still. 

"And clean up before dinner! Don't get gunk all over my house!" Dipper called as Dan started ushering them around the back, towards Waddles Jr.'s pen.

Fiddleford stopped at the edge, reaching over and giving Waddles Jr. a friendly scratch behind the ear. "Golly, that was terrififying. Are you alright, Stan?"

"Eh," he shrugged it off. His hand would be fine.he punched Ford's shoulder, not too hard. "Told you something was stealing my snacks."

"Okay, okay. You told me so." Ford smiled, punched him back. "Knucklehead."

"Nerd." Stan sat on the grass. "How's your nerd game going anyway?"

All three of them immediately began chattering in excitement, and he felt surprisingly okay with it. Ford and his friends dropped their nerd game to save him from an evil car, maybe that meant something. 

#

Dipper set down a big bowl of popcorn and sat on the couch, aching joints glad of the softness that fit him perfectly after many a movie marathon. "Whatcha picked out, kid?"

"There's so many good ones," Stan looked over all the DVDs, stacked higher than the TV. "You've got a lot."

"Yeah, I got way better stuff than the Gravity Falls Horror Movie Rerun Channel, they exclusively have B-movies." He still watched them though. Guilty pleasure. "I got all the classics."

"How about this one?" Stan held up The Exorcist. 

"That's something a responsible parent probably wouldn't let a kid watch," Dipper commented. "Good thing I'm an uncle! Let's do it!"

"Yes!" Stan scrambled to his feet and started setting it up. Dipper watched him as he had some popcorn. The Exorcist, huh? He remembered seeing it in theatres when he was on his own. Scared him half to death at the time. Now he could probably recite the whole script off by heart.

"Got it!" Stan finished setting up and sat back on the rug.  

"Hey, you wanna share the couch?" Dipper offered. "And the popcorn?"

"Really?" Stan looked at him, suspicious and hopeful. 

"Yeah, get your butt up here or I'm gonna eat it all myself." Dipper pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and tossed it in Stan's face.

Stan laughed and hopped up on the couch, settling in on the other end as Dipper got the lamp, the room plunging into darkness as the title flashed on the screen. 

"Grunkle Dipper?"

"Shh. Movie time."

Stan hesitated, voice surprisingly quiet from such a boisterous kid. "Thanks for watching this with me. I know you like Ford's game."

Dipper paused, hand in the popcorn bowl. "Yeah, sure, but who wants to have a sleepover where an old guy plays a board game with them?"

"Ford wouldn't mind. He said once it's a game that's best with more players. And you're smart enough to be great at it, I bet." 

"Yeah, true." Dipper didn't want to admit this but fine. "I didn't really… aw man. Look, I-I wasn't a sleepover kid growing up. But-" Mabel and her slumber parties, he used to hate them- "your gramps was. Had 'em all the time."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. I know it can feel-" irritating, lonely, jealous, bitter, what's wrong with me- "annoying, being the one that doesn't want to do what everyone else does." 

“Yeah.” Stan pulled his knees up on the couch, wrapping his arms around them.

He reached over and messed up Stan's hair, still damp from where he'd gotten clean. "But you can always come watch a movie with me, kid."

"Heh." Stan smiled, eyes still on the screen. "Cool."

"Yeah, yeah, now shh. You're missing key plot information." Pazuzu was a hack.

#

"Wow, pancakes with whipped cream and sprinkles?" Ford had never seen so many colours on food before. 

"Eh, someone once told me it was perfect sleepover breakfast food." Dipper flipped a pancake over the stove. Ford had been woken early by Fiddleford, who apparently woke with the sun on account of 'farm life'. 

It had been weird to see Dipper reading a book when he came downstairs, an arm around a snoring Stan, even as Ford felt a pang of something that wasn't worth investigating. It was good Stan wasn't alone for the night, he probably wouldn't have slept great anyway, they stayed up really late playing MonsterMon after finishing the starter dungeon and defeating the evil wizard, a servant of Probabilitor called Algebraius the Beatable.

"How ya holdin' up there, Stan?" Fiddleford checked in.

Stan had dark rings under his eyes, haggardly cutting into a pancake and nursing a glass of milk the way mom did with her morning coffee. "Pfft, I'm fine. No nightmares at all. That screaming you heard last night was coyotes."

"Well, Tad Strange slept great." Tad had denied the offer of pancakes, instead buttering some of his bread and adding sprinkles to that instead. 

"I did too," Ford agreed. "I had a super cool dream, I was playing chess in space." The other details had slipped away, as dreams did.

"Nerd," Stan poked him with a tired laugh. "Of course you did."

Ford poked him back. He didn't remember much else, but… he felt like he was playing chess with a friend.

[underfaller]

in his house of mind, dead cipher waits dreaming

Chapter 3: Frilliam II

Rating: T

Synopsis:

You really think you won that day/You packed your bags and sailed away/You think you left your past behind/But trust me/I'm still on your mind

A year has passed since Weirdmaggedon and the Pines family, victorious in the end, are happier than ever. Stan and Ford are adventuring at sea, making up for lost time. Dipper and Mabel are now freshmen and are ready to take on high school-- geometry, bullies, (student eating?) clubs, and all! However, things take a turn for the worst when Dipper and Mabel receive of horrific message from Ford:

Bill is back.

“C'mon Fordsy, let me outta here! I promise I won't undo my stitches again!” 

Bill struggles against the leather straps that bind him to a cold, metal table. It rattles as he purposely shakes it back and forth. Stanford shoots him a glare. 

“Will you just shut up for once?” He snaps. 

“Make me!” Bill yells back. 

Stanford presses his lips tightly, but doesn’t continue the conversation. He knows that there isn’t any point in engaging with Bill. The demon only sweet talks you when he wants something and vexes you when he doesn’t. Ford instead continues writing in his new journal, documenting his failures to bring Stanley back. After their fight, Ford immediately turned the Stan-o-War II back to the only place he could possibly go-- The Mystery Shack. The lab is exactly the same as it was 30 years ago save for its equipment’s slightly worn appearance and a framed photo of the kids on the desk. Stanford’s heart twists. 

What would they say if they knew their Grunkle was like this? 

“I have to admit though, I'm impressed!” Bill continues. “You really went for the kill back there. Talk about cold-blooded!”

Memories flash in Ford’s mind. Stanley on the bridge floor, eerily still, in a pool of his own blood. Perhaps one of the scariest moments in Stanford’s life was that of momentarily realization that he’d accidentally killed his own brother-- Even more frightening than when he was sucked into the interdimensional portal. Thankfully, Stanford is a skilled medic and was able to successfully resuscitate Stanley. Still as Stanford’s eyes stray toward Stanley’s chest, still wrapped in white bandages, he feels gnawing guilt eating away at him. 

It all happened so fast. Bill came at me. I didn't mean to actually shoot him. 

Please forgive me, Stanley. If you are still there. 

No, he can’t think like that. Doubt leads to stagnation. Stanford cannot afford to doubt. He will not stagnate in the pursuit of his brother. Bill may have taken over his body temporarily, but Stanley is still there. Somewhere. He has to be. 

He has to be. 

“I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised. It's not like you actually respect the guy anyway,” Bill chimes. “Sure, you love your brother and all. Blah, blah, blah! But you don't actually respect him. Deep down, you still see him as a fumbling idiot. As you should, you're the superior twin after all!”

Stanford narrows his eyes. 

“Your manipulation isn’t going to work this time.”

“Tch, it’s not manipulation. It’s the truth,” Bill sneers. “Like how you loved me too. Before, you know, all the drama . Only difference was you actually respected me too.” 

Stanford raises an eyebrow. 

“Seriously? I always knew you were the jealous type but getting jealous of my brother? That’s a bit low, even for you Cipher.” 

Bill growls. 

“Whatever. I don't have to convince you of the truth. You'll do that on your own eventually. I just planted the seed in your little noggin,” Bill huffs. “All that knowledge bestowed upon you and this is the thanks I get. Seriously, is this how you treat all your partners?” 

“We were never partners.” 

“Denial is a river in Egypt-,” Bill momentarily pauses his pettiness, craning his neck and watching as Ford surrounds the table with candles. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m going into Stan’s mind and forcibly removing you myself.” 

Bill laughs.

“Seriously, you’re actually gonna meet me in the mindscape?” Bill’s lips curl into a dark grin. “Wow, a date with Stanford Pines. This is gonna be interesting.”

Stanford rolls his eyes before pulling out a lighter from his pocket. As he lights the candles, his heart pounds in his ears. The last time Ford spoke to Bill face to face ended with Bill frying him alive for an equation to end the world. Stanford sits crossed legged on the floor, ignoring the demon’s giggles and closes his eyes. He tries to calm his mind but Stanford realizes that he’s slightly trembling. 

He’s wary of his former muse but he’ll do anything for Stanley Pines. After all, he did the same for Stanford by bringing him out of the portal. Stanford can’t help but notice the obvious irony in all this. It’d be amusing if this were a novel he was reading instead of his own life. 

However, it wasn’t and that made it terrifying. 

Stanford takes a deep breath.

“Videntus omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem,” Stanford calls. “Magnum opus. Habeas corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus! Magister mentium! Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!” Bill smirks. 

“See you real soon.”

There’s a blinding flash of blue light. It envelops the entire lab and as it does, Stanford can feel himself floating up and up until he’s out of his  body. Stanford stands up, a ghost outside the physical world, and examines himself, still sitting on the lab floor, illuminated by candlelight. It's uncanny. He shivers slightly. Despite having done it dozens of times, Stanford will never get used to this out of body experience. He swims across the air before floating right into his brother’s skull. There is another flash of light and when Ford opens his eyes, he finds himself in a completely blank space with no signs of Stanley or Bill in sight. 

Stanford conjures his weapon of choice- an interdimensional gun- into existence, pointing it as he delves further and further into Stanley’s mindscape. 

“Show yourself, Cipher!” He calls. 

The air crackles with electricity as a shrill laughter fills the space. 

“Well, well, well! It’s actually Sixer in the flesh! Welcome to my humble abode!” Ford whips around to see his ex muse. His messy, blonde hair rests over his leery face, covering his right eye. Bill bows, tipping his top hat. “Look who missed me,” Bill simpers, adjusting his bowtie. He leans on his slender, black cane, a leery smile etched on his pretty face. “Ya’know I just had to change my form for the special occasion. Remember it? You used to absolutely adore seeing me like this.”

Ford points his gun at Bill, ignoring the redness in his ears. He knows that Bill Cipher is just messing with him-- similar to how cats play with their food before they disembowel it-- but even Stanford is slightly caught off guard by Bill’s sudden change of physique. “I’m not here to play games, Bill. Get out of here before I-”

Swoosh.  

In a flash, Bill is in front of Ford, grabbing the gun and pressing its barrel against his chest with wide eyes and an even wider. Ford flinches, trying to pull away, but Bill pulls him closer so that Ford can feel Cipher’s hot breath against his face. 

“C’mon, Ford! You’ve already tried that; it’s not gonna work. What’s the saying again, doing the same thing expecting different results makes you insane?” Bill croons. His hand snakes towards Ford's fingers. They're cold, like talons scraping against his skin. “Unless you’re actually going insane, then I’ll happily accept you by my side with open arms!”

“We're in the mindscape now. Stanley's mindscape. It'll be different blasting you out of here,” Ford hisses. 

Bill tilts his head.

“Do you really think you can bring him back? Face it, you're a scientist, not a necromancer.”

“He’s not dead. You may have taken over his mind but he’s still here somewhere.” 

He has to be. 

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting hypothesis,” Bill says. “It’s out of your control though. Take a look around! What’s done is done!”

If this truly was Stanley's mindscape, where is everything? His memories, his thoughts, the very mental image of himself? It should all be here and yet, it is not. Even Stanford, the master of rationalizing all things wrong when it suits him, cannot delude himself of that stark fact. Bill notices Ford's hesitation and chuckles. 

“But….If you make a deal with me, perhaps we can actually bring him back!” Bill adds. “We'll keep him around like a house pet. How's that sound?” 

Ford eyes blaze, clenching his fingers over the gun. 

“How dare--You isosceles prick!” 

Ford pulls the trigger. The shot rings in the empty space as the ray blasts through Bill’s suit, creating a giant hole in his chest. Ford watches as the flesh and tendons twist and wiggles, returning to their original state. The only piece of Bill that doesn’t reform is his white dress suit, leaving his chest bare as Bill clicks his tongue in annoyance.  

“Now look at what you did,” Bill says. He grabs Ford, pushing him to the ground as he straddles him with his long legs. Ford struggles wildly but Bill quickly overpowers him. He leans into the man’s ear. 

“Let me break it down for you, IQ. Your brother and I are one now. My mind is his. I’m in control here and you, Stanford, are in enemy territory. Do you know what happens to little six-fingered freaks that get into places where they shouldn’t be?” 

Bill raises his hand. 

“They go SPLAT!” 

Bill strikes Ford and the world goes black. Stanford gasps, ears ringing as he opens his eyes. He falls back onto the lab floor. The candles are blown out. Ford stumbles to his feet, making his way towards the table. Stanley is unconscious but Bill is certainly still there, his ugly smile still etched on his brother's sleeping face. Ford slams his fist against the metal surface. 

“GODDAMMIT!” He yells. Stanford paces back and forth, muttering and cursing. He's seeing red, adrenaline and anger racing in his veins. 

What now, smart guy?

Stanford is supposed to be a genius! If he couldn’t even bring his brother back, what the hell was he good for? Stanford grits his teeth, grabbing his pen and documenting the trial in his journal before he loses his temper once more and throws the book against the wall. He slumps to the ground, head in hands. That stupid triangle. He was toying with him. Why, why, why was it that after everything, that demon still had power over him. Ford shakes his head. This is going nowhere.

Stanley. I’m sorry. I’m trying. 

After a few minutes, Ford calms himself. He takes a deep breath, counting to ten over and over like he did when he was a child angry at his father for scolding Stanley. Then, Ford picks himself and his journal up and locks the lab door behind him. 

Stanford needs help.

Ford makes his way up the dark stairs before pressing the vending machine from behind and stepping out into the quiet Mystery Shack. All the tourists have gone to their motels or RVs for the night. As moonlight wafts through dirty windows, Soos sweeps the floors of the empty gift shop, whistling. When he sees Stanford, he pauses, waving slightly. 

“Hey dude. Any luck on getting Mr. Pines back?”

Stanford shakes his head. 

“Not yet, Soos.”

Disappointment flashes in the young man's eyes as he frowns. Soos sighs, propping his broom against the counter, taking off his fez and playing with the worn tassel. 

“He's not actually dead, is he?”

There's sadness in Soos’s voice, as if he's expecting the worst answer despite desperately hoping for the opposite. Stanford once again feels crawling shame for his recent failures. He doesn’t know Soos very well but Stanley often spoke of his former employee as his son. Soos no doubt sees Stanley as a de facto father figure in return. It's probably why Soos was more than willing to let the Pines stay at the Mystery Shack for the time being. Stanford clears his throat. 

“Of course not. You know Stanley. It's gonna take more than that yellow bastard to kill him.”

His words make Soos brighten up just a little. He laughs. 

“Yeah man. If Bill tries to kill him, Mr. Pines would probably punch him to smithereens-- again!”

There’s so much enthusiasm and hope in Soos’s voice-- it makes Ford grin just slightly. 

Their conversation is interrupted by a light in the hallway being switched on. Melody leans in the doorway, still in her pajamas, a worried expression of her face as her hand rests over her very pregnant belly. 

“Soos, there's gnomes in the trash again! Do you know where the broom is?”

Soos jumps up, grabbing the broom. 

“I'll handle it!” Soos says. “You can go back to bed.”

Melody tilts her head, placing her hands on her hips.  

“Just because I'm pregnant, doesn't mean I can't do anything you know,” She replies, teasingly. 

Soos chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I know. You're awesome, Mel but you're doing enough already taking care of Sooslet,” Soos pecks Melody on the check before adjusting his cap. “A few gnomes is nothing compared to what you're doing!” 

Before Melody can protest, Soos is already racing to the kitchen. She shakes her head, but is clearly amused by her husband. She turns toward Ford. 

“Still helping Mr. Pines?”

Stanford nods. 

“Yes. I apologize for having barged in on you two on such short notice.”

Melody shakes her head. 

“No problem. Technically, it’s still your house, is it not? If there's anything we can do to help Mr. Pines, let us know. Soos is very worried about him.”

Stanford nods once more. 

“I know. We'll get him back soon. I promise.”

He says it with conviction but Ford isn't sure if his reassurance is for Melody or for himself.  ~

Lake Gravity Falls is serene at this hour of the night. The air is crisp and cool as opposed to the hot, stiff Oregon summer daylight. Cicadas sing loudly as fireflies float across still waters. Stanford sits on the dock next to Fiddleford. 

“Asking to go fishing in the middle of the night? I have a feeling this isn’t some ol’ rendezvous just to catch up.”

Stanford sighs, fiddling with his fishing pole. He never really liked fishing. Stanford wasn’t a very patient man and fishing was a very patient sport. Fiddleford, on the other hand, absolutely adored it, always begging Ford to join him in their younger years. Stanford scoffs. 

The first time I actually go and it’s for my own gain. 

As Stanford fills his old partner in on the recent turn of events, the old engineer grows silent and serious. Fiddleford scratches his beard. 

“I could always construct another memory erasing gun. You can try that again.”

Ford shakes his head. 

“No more guns, F. I think I've shot my brother enough times.”

Fiddleford nods. He gazes across the lake with a faraway, thoughtful look in his eyes. 

“I want to help but we're dealing with forces outside this realm of reality, on a plane of existence even God doesn't dare step up on.” 

“Not so different from last time.”

Fiddleford scoffs. 

“No, not very different.”

Ford turns towards him. 

“I wouldn’t come to you if I didn’t have anyone else to turn to,” Stanford says, quietly. “You’re the brightest mind I know., F-”

Fiddleford interrupts him. 

“Ya know-- you're the only one that calls me that.”

“F?”

“F, Fiddleford. Everyone I know calls me Old Man Mcgucket ‘cept little Tate of course. I don't even think half this town knows my real name.”

Stanford grimaces, remembering all he put his old roommate through. He reels up his line, abruptly standing up. Fiddleford looks at him, confused. 

“Where are you going?”

“I'm sorry, this was a mistake. I can't drag you back into this. Not after last time-” 

“Oh, sit yer butt down!” 

Stanford is shocked by Fiddleford’s sudden sharpness and quickly sits back down. Fiddleford shakes his head. 

“I’m not telling you this to guilt you.” “Then why?” “You’re so damn impatient! I’m getting to it!” “Ok! Ok! Sorry, F.” 

Fiddleford clears his throat. 

“When we parted ways all those years ago, I was a broken man with a broken mind coming home to a broken family-” 

“You must have despised me.” 

“I did. For a little bit,” Fiddleford admits. “Then I forgot. Then your grandkids helped me remember again and when I remembered you again, I was happy. I never wanted to forget you. I cherished you in my mind, even in my anger.”

Stanford sighs. 

“I'm sorry, Fiddleford. I never meant to hurt you.” He says. “I squandered your life. Your potential. You could've been a billionaire with your computers. You could have still been married to Emma May. You could have had a relationship with your son.” 

“I do have a relationship with Tate, though and I’ve got more money than I know what to do with now.” Fiddleford laughs. “As for Emma May… Well, let's just say things probably would have ended the same with her whether I left for Gravity Falls or not.”

Fiddleford bows his head, smiling softly. 

“I guess what I’m tryna get at is that you keep blaming yourself when you've already been forgiven. The past is past, Ford. You’ve got to put it behind you,”  Fiddleford states. “Apprehension is unnatural for the Great Genius Stanford Pines.” 

Ford shakes his head. 

“It's hard when the past keeps haunting the present.” 

Fiddleford hums. 

“Perhaps, but when it does, you've got people around you to help blow it back to where it belongs.” Fiddleford says. 

“I'm gonna stay by your side. Not like before.”

Fiddleford holds out his hand. Stanford stares at it, utterly bewildered yet grateful that Fiddleford so willingly forgives him despite everything. Still, Ford smiles, shaking his hand. 

“Right back at you, partner.”

Suddenly, Fiddleford lets go and jumps, pointing at the water.

“Look at that!” 

In the darkness, the small shadow in the water seems like a formless blob but as Stanford shines his lantern closer to it, he realizes that it’s an Axolotl, pink with a dreamy smile on its face as it paddles through the water. Fiddleford slaps his knee, laughing. 

“Well I’ll be! It looks like Frilliam. Remember that little guy?”

“How could I forget?”

“Perhaps it's one of his great- great- grandsons. He’s got the same frills, after all, just like your sideburns!” 

Fiddleford bends down and dips his hand into the water. The Axolotl swims tentatively towards Fiddleford’s fingers, looking up at the two men. Its deep eyes glisten as it stares at Ford. For some very odd reason, Ford feels as if its expression is one of familiarity, as if it recognizes the old man. Then, it flicks its tail, leaving as quickly as it came, sending ripples across the starlit lake as the two men sit together in peace. 

Bill Cipher is dreaming. 

He’s out at sea, watching the waves crash against a small boat as the vessel lurches back and forth. He despises it. He’s getting seasick just standing there. 

“Hey Pointdexer! Check this out!” Somewhere in the distance, Stanford is laughing. 

Bill feels a wave of nausea rise in him. That voice-- he hated that voice-- The voice of Stanley Pines. He claws at his own skin, trying to escape this hellscape. Get me out of here. Get me out of here. Get me out of here- 

“Woah buddy! Chill out!” Bill’s eye snaps open. He is in a white space, somehow more empty than his cell. He sees himself waving back at him. 

“Hey Handsome, long time no see,” The other Bill tips his hat. 

Bill checks his own hat. It’s still on his head. Bill narrows his eye. 

“What the- Who are you?” The triangle laughs. 

“I’m you, dummy. Duh!” 

“No, I’m me.” 

“I know you are, but so am I!”

“What?”

The triangle breaks into another fit of giggles before wiping a tear from his eye. Bill crosses his arms, obviously not amused by this other Bill mocking him. He’d dice him into tiny squares if he still had his powers. 

“Lemme explain,” The other Bill states. “You’re the little broken pieces the Axolotl picked out of Stanley’s mind, put into ‘therapy’.”

He pretends to gag before motioning to the empty area around the two demons. 

“...and I am the one that stayed.”

Bill crosses his arms.

“That’s impossible.”

“Aww, where’s your faith, William?” Bill puts his arm around Bill, waving his hand as he explains. “Even the axolotl makes the mistakes, sometimes.” 

Bill leans closer. 

“Mistakes that can work in our favor.”

He steps back, looking smug and shrugging. 

“While you’ve been doing arts and crafts, wallowing in self pity, I’ve been making moves! Moves towards total dimensional annihilation and sweet, sweet revenge!” Bill yells. “So hurry up and get out of timeout and join me; it’s getting boring without the full use of my powers.”

Snap. 

Bill suddenly sits up, awake and still in his dark cell. He looks down at his orange jumpsuit. Was there truly a way to get out of here? Half of him was already out there, having fun and causing chaos-- all he had to do was join him. Slowly, a smile grows on his face. 

Yes, perhaps things were finally changing.

Previous Chapter

[kurishiri]

16 . . . alfons main story (with letter)

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— by the way, if you want “alfons’ side” of this chapter, i would recommend giving the ecb story from roger’s past records a read! i copied and pasted some lines from there in this chapter as well.

— cw: mentions of child labor or abuse.

Roger: Even after getting hurt by that villain of a man, you just never learn, do you, lil lady?

Roger’s face was right there before me, so close I could feel his breath.

He was honestly a wonderful person, and I was sure if we had met at the bar, without knowing the circumstances, I would have happily gone along with his slightly rough invitation.

(But...)

Kate: I’m really sorry... but right now I’m not in a headspace where I can humor your jokes...

K: Besides, I thought you mentioned you choose your partners?

Thankfully, Roger withdrew his hand from my shoulders, albeit not without a wry laugh.

Roger: You’re right, I did mention that, but I would absolutely take a woman like you any day.

(Could it be he came here to cheer me up?)

My heart, having felt cold and hollow, now felt a tad bit of warmth.

(Oh, come to think of it...)

Kate: ...If I remember, you are doing research on the Cursed ones, right?

Roger: That I am, but what of it?

Kate: If it’s not too much trouble, could you tell me what Alfons’ tragic fate is...?

When I asked Roger what had been occupying my mind since before he came, he shrugged his shoulders, his movements stiff.

Roger: If he knew I was the one to tell you, he’d hate me more than he already does.

Kate: Then whatever you say here will stay between the two of us.

Roger: I mean, sure, but I’m pretty sure he’d still catch on even if you didn’t say a word.

R: Well, despite what I said, I’m more than convinced he couldn’t hate me any more at this point, so I don’t really mind.

(Now that we’re on this topic...)

I remembered I couldn’t help but feel the way Alfons acted toward Roger made me a bit uncomfortable.

[1] So you two go way back. (+4 / +4)

[2] Does he hate you?

[3] Which one of you is older?

Kate: So, I take it you two go way back?

Roger: And what makes you think that?

Kate: Well, I guess when you two were speaking, it looked like you weren’t pulling any punches on each other, so to speak... but also I felt you two were a bit distant...

K: So I thought something might’ve happened that made it that way, perhaps.

Roger: Well well? Look at you and your keen eye. But as for the reason he holds some deep-seated grudges against me——

R: ...It was because the one who had told him what his ‘tragic fate’ was so casually, was none other than me.

R: His life had always been a bit twisted, so to speak, but then I came in and wrung it more.

(Wha...)

Roger: You want in on it?

(If I nod here...)

The story that Roger was about to tell——

Surely, it would cover a part of Alfons that he would never let me so much as step in.

(...I wonder, will knowing more about him really do much?)

(Perhaps, knowing would actually make it harder to forget.)

I bit my lip slightly.

(But, even so——)

Even if it was just a tiny fragment, I wanted to grasp at his true form, however much of a mirage he may be.

Kate: ...Yes, please tell me more.

—— Flashback ——

The story I’m about to tell is neither a dream nor illusion.

It is nothing but the ‘truth’ that one can’t escape from——

Once, there was a boy who bore ashy gray eyes: an orphan from the East End.

And ever since the time he was aware of what was going on around him, he had been subjected to harsh labor at the orphanage.

The work environment was poor at best, and even a slightest mistake would result in corporal punishment.

However, this boy held a certain skill as well.

He knew the art of escaping from the reality that dealt him with hardships and rendered him famished and in pain by dreaming.

‘This isn’t me’——such were the chants of the boy who looked into his own reflection in the muddied water.

Whenever he did this, his consciousness would distance itself from him, going somewhere outside. And so, even if he was being punished, he felt nothing.

Not to mention, there were countless children who died as well.

...Children whose names he could no longer remember. And when the time came, it would surely be the same for him as well.

——But even so, there was but a single thing he had held dear in his heart.

Gray-eyed boy: Come here, won’t you?

Out in the alleyway, there was a trembling kitten.

He never had much bread in the first place, but nonetheless he split it with the kitten; he would fall asleep while hugging it to his chest on colder days; and he would pet it on the back of its neck.

Whenever he did so, his heart would calm down.

(That’s right, I’m different from those adults. Because unlike them, I have love in me.)

(And I’m different from those nameless kids too, because I’ve got this fella here.)

(This cat knows me, if no one else. It remembers me too.)

Thinking this helped keep his sense of self.

Gray-eyed boy: I love you... so that’s why, if no one else, you have to remember me, okay?

The kitten’s warmth, the feeling of its soft fur, and the small meows...

Surrounded by bricks that were on the verge of falling apart, that very place was the ‘reality’ he lived in.

—— End flashback ——

—— Flashback ——

Roger: Huh. A cat...

One fateful day, the young boy met another named Roger in the East End.

Roger appeared slightly older than the boy who was polishing shoes out on the streets.

And judging from his attire, he was probably not a noble, but more likely than not he had come from a relatively more well-to-do family.

‘I heard some rumors about the orphanage, so here I am,’ Roger had said, wanting in on the boy’s story, almost to an excessive extent for some odd reason.

Roger: So? What’s that cat doing now? After all, the fact you’re polishing shoes out here now is because you got kicked out from the orphanage, right?

When talking about the cat, the boy’s ashy gray eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly.

Gray-eyed boy: That fella’s still at the orphanage. Someone there’s probably looking after it, maybe?

Roger: .........And you? What’s your name?

His name——that young boy had an inkling that he had forgotten he even had such a thing in the first place.

Gray-eyed boy: ...Alfons, I think.

Roger: You think?

Alfons: Well, I heard it was written on the box I was in.

That alone was enough to hit home the fact that he had been abandoned the moment he was born.

He had no memory of the time before he found himself at the orphanage.

And that orphanage was the very one he had been recently driven out of.

Roger: Do you really not know the reason you were kicked out of the orphanage?

Alfons: How could I? It was so sudden, so...

—— End flashback ——

When the needle on the clocks overlapped, I found myself back in the present time.

Roger: I had heard a certain rumor circulating around at the time, so that’s why I tried to get in touch with him.

Kate: A rumor...?

Roger: Yeah. A rumor where ‘the director of the orphanage was made into a cat.’

(Did he just say... he was ‘made into a cat’...?)

Kate: What in the world does that mean...?

Roger: At the time, I already knew I was Cursed, and I had already begun researching about Curses at that point.

R: Through my father, who was a town doctor, I searched around for any documents about patients who could possibly be Cursed.

R: And it was among those I found something particularly strange, that being rumors of a person who could ‘overwrite other people’s perceptions’——

R: And there were strange cases of amnesia where that came from.

(Am...nesia...)

When I thought of Alfons’ face, I stifled a breath.

Roger: White could be perceived as black, and vice versa——there are a great many who experienced that firsthand, thinking such things were reality.

R: But interestingly enough, none of them could remember who had made it that way. Their name, what they looked like, where they lived, everything.

R: And when I checked the registry of that area and any records... I was confident there was some unnatural ‘white space’ there.

R: It was clear as night and day that there was a single person who had just up and disappeared to thin air from both memories and records. ...Strange, isn’t it?

R: I was more than sure that person who held such an ability was a ‘Cursed one.’

At that moment, I had a bad feeling.

But nonetheless, I simply swallowed my breath and continued to listen.

Roger: So when I first heard the rumor that there was a ‘human who had turned into a cat,’ I thought he would be Cursed.

R: And at the time, I was hoping to find a Cursed one aside from myself in earnest.

R: ...That’s why I ended up doing something rash.

—— Flashback ——

Roger: You’ve got some strange ability, don’t you?

All of a sudden, Roger had asked this with a serious expression, causing Alfons to back away with slow steps.

Alfons: What do you mean, ‘strange ability’...?

Roger: You know, like by touching somewhere and whatnot, you can make people think any lie as the truth. Something like that.

Alfons: ...Any lie... as the truth...

Roger figured that since Alfons hadn’t asked what he was talking about, he probably was at least somewhat in the know.

Believing this without question, Roger took a step back before spreading both his arms.

Roger: So try something on me, won’t you? Anything’s fine.

Alfons: ...

After staring at Roger closely for a while...

Alfons: ...If you pay me, I could do it.

He made a proposal to the well-dressed Roger.

And from there, the two did this and that to test his ‘ability.’

After all, Alfons himself didn’t know how to activate it.

Roger: Looks like just throwing words out won’t do it.

Alfons: So then I’d have to touch you somewhere too or something?

And then, Alfons held Roger’s hand, touched his forehead and whatnot, and after a lot of trial and error——

Alfons: “This isn’t shoe polish, but your most favorite food.”

—— End flashback ——

Roger: When he touched the back of my neck, his ability activated.

Kate: ...And how did you know that?

Roger: Well, by the time I came to, I realized I was eating shoe polish, and he was there on the side laughing and pointing his finger at me.

(Gosh...)

Roger, laughing it off, continued the story.

—— Flashback ——

Roger: I knew it, you really are Cursed.

Alfons: Cursed?

A: What in the world are you saying, mister [1]? Just hurry up and pay me, will you?

Alfons’ eyes grew cold, and he extended his head, waving it.

And Roger grabbed both of his shoulders.

Roger: You have the ability to distort the minds of other people. You saw it yourself before, didn’t you?

R: And those who are Cursed will have to face a tragic fate as a price for their abilities.

Alfons: Wh... what’re getting all excited for?

There are those who were cast with a Curse since the moment they were born——such people are known as ‘Cursed ones.’

And at this point in time, Alfons still didn’t grasp such a meaning.

Roger: I mean the Cursed ones are born “to commit sins and meet a tragic fate.”

Alfons: ...Are you sure you shouldn’t go to a hospital, mister? There can’t be such a thing as a tragic fate and all.

Roger: I know it sounds like a lie, but it really is true! And I think in your case, it would probably be——“to die without leaving your mark on anyone’s memories.”

R: That’s the fate you bear.

Alfons: ——!

In exchange for an ability a normal person could never have, they were dealt the hands of a ‘tragic fate.’

Roger: But, I’m sure these fates can be changed. In fact, I’ll do just that.

R: After all, I was finally able to meet someone other than myself who’s Cursed! Hey, do you——

Alfons: .........get out.

All of a sudden, Alfons pushed Roger on his chest. Hard.

Roger: ...? What’s up with you? Looking pale as a sheet like that.

Alfons: Whatever, just get out of my sight!

Pushing Roger so hard he was almost sent flying, Alfons ran away——

never to return there again.

—— End flashback ——

Roger: ...And then a little while after that,

R: I heard a rumor around that ‘there was a kid who could show weird illusions over at the slums.’

I was reminded of how I had seen Alfons in the warehouse that had long become ruins, showing illusions to the people there.

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: I have been doing these things even prior to joining Crown, you see.

A: So I see no reason to stop, simply because I’ve been told to, or it’s a supposed ‘national secret’ and what have you.

—— End flashback ——

Roger: At the time, I was hoping he could work with me on my research...

R: But if I had to say, I got too caught up in talking about his fate, and as a result I had ended up pushing on him a reality he could never go back from again.

Just like that, I felt as though a hole had opened up beneath my feet.

The past I didn’t know of,

the day I had first understood what his ability entailed, and... the ‘Curse’ his body had ended up bearing.

(“To die without leaving his mark on anyone’s memories”——such was Alfons’ tragic fate.)

to be continued…

Acceptance is important, you know

Good day to you. How have you been faring?

...So I do ask, though I couldn’t really care less, if I had to be honest. But even so, do make sure to eat and sleep properly, alright?

After all, would you not agree that destroying your body and suffering because you had been pulled by the whims of some irresponsible hedonist is nothing short of a ludicrous tale?

The quickest way to overcome a lost love would be liquor and food, along with the discovery of your next love. Such is usually the case.

If you indulge in a delicious liquor, I imagine you will come to realize this love was naught but some silly affair. In fact, I’m more than certain of it.

Should you seek out a pleasure no deeper than the surface, then I will be more than happy to play together with you once more.

Well then, until next time.

← prev next →

masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

NOTES:

[1] Here, Alfons refers to Roger as [お兄さん] (onī-san), which literally means “big brother,” and it could be used to refer to someone else’s older brother, but here it’s used more in the context that Roger is a guy a little older than Alfons, so it’s just like a casual way to call someone you’re not super close with or don’t know the name of, not because they are blood-related in any way. Think of it kinda like “bro” in modern terms maybe?

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[luvnakaharas]

i’m scared for when 114 and 114.5 get animated and it’s because of how dazai acts in both chapters.

he is so animated and emotional here and for him, that’s very out of character. it’s clear he doesn’t have a plan at the moment and is coming to the horrifying realisation of what fyodor’s ability is and what he’s just done.

a thing with studio bones though, that many other people have talked about, is how they tend to remove most of the scenes with dazai expressing thoughts outside of this “haha i knew this all along lol i always have a plan” bs that he shows a LOT.

chapter 98 vs season 5 episode 7. come on now dazai. you’re allowed to be pissed.

but here, dazai kind of HAS to panic. the whole point is that he saw NONE of this coming and that he’s only piecing it together now, when it may be too late. he couldn’t have formed a plan to combat fyodor’s plan because he never could have guessed it would actually happen. this is, in his words, the worst case scenario.

bones can’t make him act like he does know what he’s going to do next. if he didn’t he wouldn’t be as scared as he is right now.

if dazai, someone who is extremely smart and can always predict events from a huge distance, is panicking, the audience (gcse drama coming in clutch here) will know something BIG will happen, because now we have one of the more “calmer in troubling situations” characters freaking out and losing composure completely. and it’s more than fair for him to freak out considering what’s going on at the airport right now.

but, if dazai is like “oh i knew it from the start (NO THE FUCK YOU DIDN’T BTW) hehehe i know how to solve this ‘,:)” the audience (specifically anime-onlys but i think it’s time for you guys to pick up the manga) is like “oh, he’s gotten it under control, if he knew from the beginning we should be okay” when it’s anything BUT okay at the moment.

dazai is scared. and that’s fine. he’s allowed to be scared. he’s allowed to not have a plan right away. he’s allowed to mess up, to not have thought this far ahead. hopefully he can come up with something in the coming chapters, but here, the point is that he hasn’t formed any sort of counter just yet.

bones is perfectly capable of getting scenes on point! they managed to execute chapter 101’s famous scene perfectly! hopefully this scene won’t be a victim of poor adaption. this is one of my favourites with dazai so far, and it’s the most expressive i’ve ever seen him.

thanks for reading! who’s excited for chapter 119? 🩵

[greenerteacups]

What do you think as Hermione's career would be post battle of Hogwarts? To me her being minister for magic really doesn't make sense. She does not have patience or tact to wade through murky waters of politics 😭😭

So hard to say! The Trio are so, so young when we leave them, I find it almost impossible to project their futures farther than a few years out. The job that suited me at 17 would be radically unsuited to me now. That's why of all the Trio, Ron's ending strikes me as the most realistic — he jumps straight into the save-the-world business again, burns out, realizes he's actually Done The Fuck Enough, Thanks, and pivots into a low-stress career where he gets to see his family a lot. Feels accurate! The others are weirder to me because they do seem to just... pick a lane and stay there.

With Hermione, you could spin her a couple ways. You could say that she leans into her bookish side and does research or teaching, which is not my preference for a couple reasons (namely, I don't think Hermione would like academia as a profession; she finds her classwork interesting and enjoys intellectual validation, but she'd be stifled and wasted in a DPhil program, and she'd be infuriated by the administrative politicking of your average higher-ed faculty). You could say that she gets disaffected with politics and ends up as a barrister or a lobbyist of some kind, but if anything that requires more political finesse, because you don't actually have institutional power, you're just handling the people who make decisions and trying to persuade them of your goals. This is not Hermione's preferred method of influence. She's not even particularly good at persuasion, she just happens to be smart enough (and right often enough) that people take her ideas seriously.

Or you could say her brashness fades with the years into a softened flavor of tell-you-like-it-is honesty, which some politicians actually do successfully trade on; as we see in British politics today, you don't have to be all that charming or clever to get ahead, you just need to be really driven and well-connected (which Hermione completely is; she fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the first postwar Minister and her bestie, the Literal Messiah, runs the Auror Office.) But I don't know if Hermione especially wants to be Minister, after the war. She's just watched years of horrendous bureaucratic incompetence plunge the country into a violent civil conflict. She's had not one, but two Ministers of Magic try to bully or shame her friends into complicity with fascism. Her view of government is... likely extremely dark.

But Hermione also isn't the kind of person who sees her life as a quest for happiness. Babygirl has a savior complex that makes Harry look selfish. (She basically kills her parents — yeah, obliviating is a form of murder, #changemymind — "for their own good," and justifies every batshit, vindictive, mean-spirited move she ever pulls on the grounds that it "helps" one of her friends.) She is a mean, lean, dragon-slaying machine, and she needs a dragon. After Voldemort, the Ministry is the no. 1 threat to muggle-borns and non-wizarding Beings. As a war heroine with basically infinite political capital, I'd be surprised if she didn't try to do something there. That said, Hermione is so vivacious and dynamic that she could potentially grow in a hundred different directions; it's possible that all of this, while true of her at 18, becomes completely inaccurate by 22. That's why I'm not too fussed about any particular fanon interpretation.

[mangobubletea]

canon isn't real if i don't look at it *starts ugly crying*

[orcelito]

ok currently inspecting July Events to figure out wtf happened to Vash's coat

so we see him at the start of July in this:

which upon inspection IS different from his coat at the start of the series:

which makes this shot immediately post-july make some sense:

he's got the same belts pants, so clearly not ALL of his outfit got blown off, but it seems like his prior coat didn't survive the explosion. so at some point, he'd have to contact the floating ship again to get another coat made (these ppl really are working overtime keeping up with his coat and prosthetic demolishing lmaooo) WHICH on the topic of his prosthetic, it seems like it DID survive the July explosion, which is interesting!

smth im wondering about. In dialog, we hear from Brad that he met Vash when he was 4 years old, but hasn't seen him in the 13 years since (this being after the 2 years post-jeneora). at that time, it's 8 years post-july (since july happens 6 years before the start of the series, and then add the 2 years time skip post-jeneora), which sets the events of July THEORETICALLY to happen 5 years after his last visit to the flying ship.

so, how did he get his new coat if he hasn't been back to the flying ship in 13 years? Well, i assume he has some way to contact them from afar, considering he manages to get Sensei to bring him a new coat post-jeneora in some random town (& Sensei now brings Brad, who is 17, but would've only been 9 the last time).

this brings the question: how does he contact them? some kind of communication device? i remember his earring's a radio, but i dont remember him having any specific way to contact them directly. so maybe it's just not shown? i cant imagine he'd be able to send letters, all things considered, so it's probably some kind of radio transmission. the technology Does exist, & they almost definitely would pin a special radio on this disaster-prone asshole so he could still keep contact during the long years he's away from home.

the more you know 🤔

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: The world we knew by Frank Sinatra.

A/N: I wanna make this a three part short story, so if anyone is interested in being tagged in the second part just let me know!! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 2655

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part two

Getting an invite to the annual crimson ball, hosted by yours truly, was nothing but an honor. Every overlord and every sinner in the pride ring waited anxiously for a letter. A black card with white letter in a cursive font stating ‘You have been personally invited by Hells biggest designer. The list of the gala was simple. The usual overlords, Zestial, Carmilla Carmine and her daughters, Zeezie, Rosie, Fredrick Von Eldritch and Bethesda von Eldritch. Alastor who had came back after seven years of hiding god knows where, and by special request, the three vee’s who had never attended the gala before. Then it becomes a bit more political.

Next on the list was the Goetia family, inviting the recently divorced prince with his daughter. Inviting Lucifer and Lilith, though they only ever came when everyone was gone. Then was their daughter Charlotte, who got a plus one as a special perk of being the princess of hell. Husk because he had been an old friend of yours before his status of Overlord was taken from him by none other than Alastor. He was also given a plus one, though he usually never brought anyone extra. Sir Pentious was a candidate, but ultimately scrapped from your list of invites as you felt he was too childish.

The gala was tonight and everything was going smoothly. Preparations were almost done, the foyer was spotless just the way you liked it, and everything seemed to be falling into place. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had spent months designing your perfect dress for tonight. Everyone attending the gala knew there was only ever one color off limits, because you always wore it best. The color black always suited you perfectly. No one could wear it better than you.

Back at the hotel, Charlie felt guilty for using her authority as princess to have people help her get ready for this gala. Based on what Alastor had told her, there would be a lot of political powers and fellow overlords there. She wanted to look her best if she was going to pitch the hotel to them. She needed more people on board with the project, maybe someone who didn’t think it was complete and utterly ridiculous joke like Alastor did.

“How do I look?” Charlie asked as the makeup and hair artists stepped away from her. Charlie stepped out, allowing Vaggie to get a better look at her in a tailored charcoal gray suit, a departure from her usual vibrant red attire. The jacket, adorned with subtle pinstripes, accentuated her frame, while the crisp, white silk shirt underneath added a touch of formality. Completing the ensemble, she wore a black tie with a discreet pattern that hinted at both elegance and authority. The ensemble was a strategic choice, projecting confidence and a readiness to engage with the political powers present at the gala for the sake of her hotel. Vaggie smiled and hugged Charlie deeply, their embrace making Charlie feel a little less nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Charlie you look amazing. What happened to the red?” Vaggie asked, before Charlie just chuckled.

“Well, I wanted a change for tonight. I’m always in red, and I feel like they’ll take me more serious if I’m not walking in there with my usual attire. Besides, you read the invitation, ‘formal attire, look your best’.” Charlie said. Vaggie nodded, and Charlie pulled back from the hug to admire Vaggie in her dress. She was wearing a sleek and modern grey dress that gracefully embraced the formal occasion. The dress, with its tailored fit and subtle shimmer, exuded class. The knee-length hemline added a contemporary touch, and Vaggie had decided to pair it with black heels to complete the ensemble. The choice of grey complemented Charlie’s charcoal gray suit, creating a coordinated yet distinct look that would surely make an impression at the gala. Charlie felt her cheeks heat up taking in her appearance, her long hair gently pinned back, the loose pieces of hair framing her face.

“Aww, Vaggie you look so pretty!!” Charlie said excitedly. Vaggie just smiled, ignoring the way her cheeks heated up at Charlies compliment.

“I agree, you look good vagina.” Angel said mockingly, causing Vaggie to glare at him. Charlie just gushed.

“Angel be nice. This is really important for the hotel.” Charlie explained. He just nodded, tilting his head back and downing a bottle of liquor. The staff however was interrupted by Angel making a purring sound at Husk, who was dressed in a nice white suave dinner jacket, with perfect cutouts for his wings, along with some sleek black trousers and some black dress shoes. The match, he had a black silk lapel.

“I can think of another place that suit would look.” Angel said, leaning onto Husk. He rolls his eyes, bottle in hand.

“Do I even wanna know?” He asks, and Angel just grins.

“On my bedroom floo-“ Angel doesn’t get to finish, being shrugged off by Husk who just walks away with a shake of his head.

“Oh my gosh! Husk you look amazing!” Charlie squealed in delight. Husk just smiled softly before setting his drink on the bar counter.

“It appears everyone is ready.” Alastor said, the focus of the room shifting to him. Niffty was at his side studying his outfit from head to toe.

Alastor emerged in an ensemble that deviated from his usual eccentricity, opting for a more formal yet captivating look. A deep red velvet tailcoat adorned his frame, its luxurious texture catching the light. Dark-red lapels, meticulously piped with gold, added a touch of opulence. Underneath, he wore a perfectly tailored crimson dress shirt, the power emitting off of him. Suddenly, the room grew just a tad bit darker, the shadows of the room stretching just a bit. Complementing the ensemble, he chose a pair of well-fitted black dress pants, allowing the bold red hue to take center stage on his appearance. His choice of footwear shifted to polished black oxford shoes, a departure from his usual pointed-toe boots. The finishing touches of the outfit included a matching red silk bowtie, neatly knotted at his throat, and black leather gloves that added a refined edge. Alastor’s presence was commanding, radiating an air of formality while retaining the distinctive charm that defined him. The room was captivated by the Radio Demon’s unexpected transformation into a vision of refined class and style.

“You took forever for that?” Niffty said, before Angel Dust tossed a pillow at her.

“Shut it you. We, we are keeping,” Angel said, hands waving around Alastor, “to whatever this is.”

“Style.” Alastor said confidently. Vaggie just face palmed while Charlie clapped her hands together excitedly.

“Okay, I think everyone’s ready. Should we head out?” Charlie asked. Vaggie nodded, before Alastor dug the invitation out of his coat pocket. Standing near a wall, he traced the symbol on the back of the card on the wall. “Uh, Al? What are you doing?” Charlie asked. He grinned, putting his hand flat on the wall. The symbol began to glow green, before it opened a portal. On the other side, was a large house. The grand Victorian mansion stood as a testament to opulence, its imposing facade adorned with intricate wrought-iron black railings and embellished balconies with hints of chains. Tall, arched windows with stained glass panels framed the exterior, allowing glimpses of the soft glow emanating from within. The entrance, marked by a sweeping staircase, welcomed guests with ornate, carved intricate detailed doors. Charlie, Vaggie and Husk followed Alastor through the portal, Charlie waving goodbye to Niffty, and Angel. Sir Pentious was most likely hiding out in a room somewhere with his egg boys.

As guests approached, they marveled at the meticulous details of the architecture – elaborate moldings, corbels, and friezes adorned every corner. Ivy-clad walls added a touch of nature’s grace, intertwining with wrought-iron lampposts that cast a warm ambiance over the meticulously landscaped gardens.Inside, the grand foyer unfolded, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail. Crystal chandeliers hung from soaring ceilings, their light refracted by ornate mirrors that lined the walls. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, creating intimate spaces for guests to gather and converse.Every room whispered of a bygone era – intricately patterned wallpaper, gilded frames displaying classical art, and the faint fragrance of aged wood and lavender.

The air was infused with a sense of refinement, transporting guests to a time when elegance reigned supreme. The Victorian mansion, a splendid backdrop for the gala, promised an evening steeped in grandeur and charm. In the middle of the exterior grounds, a grand fountain of blood took center stage. Its sculpted marble figures spouted blood into the air, catching the moonlight in a dance of liquid elegance. The fountain, surrounded by manicured gardens and flowering shrubs, became a focal point for guests as they strolled through the outdoor spaces, the gentle sound of cascading blood adding a serene touch to the gala’s errie atmosphere.

The overlords arrival made the event much more real. Alastor hums to himself as he walks around the outside grounds. There are servants of all kinds walking around with glasses of champagne. Rosie is sitting on a bench, plucking thorns off a rose. Alastor smiles to himself, happy to see a familiar face he know he can confide in.

“Rosie dear! So nice to see you.” Alastor said with a smile. She smiles at him, teeth razor sharp.

“Do you think you’ll be getting a seat tonight?” She asks, snapping the rose off its stem and tossing it to the side.

“Well of course I will. It’d be a mistake if I wasn’t.” Alastor said with a smile, crossing his legs as he sat down next to her. Sinners from all over the pride ring were socializing outside of the large mansion. He knew you were inside finalizing preparations and possibly screaming your head off. Overall, the air was chilled with a comfortable atmosphere. Well, it had been comfortable, until a loud noisy vehicle stopped at the front gates. Everyone’s heads were turning, Rosie and Alastor looking at each other with strained smiles. Stepping out of the large limousine were the three vee’s, vulgar music blaring from the vehicles speakers as the three made their way through the now open gates. Reporters lined the edges of the gates, trying desperately to see the overlords inside and to try and sneak into the gala, which was starting soon.

“Mr.Vox! Mr.Vox!” News reporters shouted. Velvet was busy taking selfies of her and her outfit, her assistant following close behind her. Valentino was busy looking down at everyone, smoking his usual, while taking his long strides next to Vox, who was in the middle of the three.

On Vox’s right was Valentino, who donned a captivating look for the gala. His tailored white suit boasted a jacket that reached just above the knee, a subtle departure from his usual floor-length coat. The crimson silk lining peeked through, adding a luxurious touch to the outfit. The coat, reminiscent of his extravagant style, also had a vivid-red hue with his signature white fur trim at the wrists. The black and white striped fur trim along the center-front added a distinctive flair. A gold chain and love-heart-shaped broach fastenings adorned the coat, creating an opulent yet alluring look. Finally, he wore polished black heeled boots, maintaining the sleek and captivating allure that defined Valentino’s presence. The familiar color scheme remained intact, blending sophistication with a hint of provocative charm for the grand gala.

On Vox’s left was Velvet, who had spent months perfecting her outfit for the gala, in hopes she’d be invited of course. She had begged the boys to keep a good public appearance, in hopes they’d be recognized and invited to the crimson gala. Velvette, deciding to ditch her usual style, embraced a lavish and over-the-top look that represented her brand. Dressed in a knee-length dress, the garment had a striking blend of black and red hues. The dress, fitted at the waist, flowed into a voluminous skirt, creating a sense of extravagance. The bodice of the dress featured intricate lace detailing. A white collar adorned with a velvet bow added a playful yet mature flair. The sleeves, a fusion of burgundy and white patterns, contributed to the overall lavish aesthetic she had been going for. Her accessories took on a more refined form. Velvet gloves, adorned with delicate lace, graced her hands, and a pearl necklace adorned her neck, adding a classic touch, completed with maroon heels, each step resonating with a sense of grandeur. Velvet’s transformation into this upscale attire reflected her desire to make a statement at the Crimson Gala.

In the middle, and the brains of the three vee’s, was none other than the head of Vox Tech, Vox himself. He wore a sleek and modern dark blue tuxedo, tailored with precision. Of course he could only have the best. The suit featured subtle futuristic patterns that enhanced his ‘perfect’ sense of style. To complement his high-tech vibe, Vox wore a light blue undershirt with an upside-down broadcast symbol. Vox's gala attire seamlessly blended power and control with his technological edge, creating a memorable look in shades of dark blue, which in his opinion, was the best color.

Upon seeing Alastor, Vox’s eye twitched noticeably. The gates shut behind the three vee’s, closing off the gala to the public. The overlords begin to get closer together unknowingly, Zestial finding a comfortable corner to watch things play out. Carmilla and Zeezie stand close together, whispering to one another as both Rosie and Alastor stand from the bench. Vox, Valentino and Velvet make their way to the Radio Demon and his colleagues.

“I see the grandpa’s were invited.” Velvet says with a scoff, scrolling through her phone.

“So disrespectful.” Carmilla says under her breath, looking away from the three vee’s.

“Hm, interesting, and I was beginning to think the only interesting thing tonight would be the dinner.” Bethesda said, her brother nodding.

“Well, it seems the children brought their play date to the public then.” Zeezie says. The other overlords laugh and Valentino sneers at her.

“Well an idiota like you would think so. Then again, don’t you all do the same with your diapers?” He asked, puffing the smoke into her face. She growls at him, fists clenching at her side, but Carmilla stops her.

“Didn’t they say this was an adult only gala?” Carmilla asked, Rosie chuckling at her words.

“Oh can it grandma.” Velvete said. But Vox remained silent, having his own personal staring match with Alastor, whose smile was stretched ear to ear, teeth on full display.

“I thought this gala was meant for real talent?” Vox asked, stepping closer to Alastor.

“Well it was until you showed up.” Alastor said with a smile. “There’s no originality in copying someone else.” He tuts. Vox narrows his eyes, face twisting with anger as he steps closer to Alastor again.

“You wanna tell me something, you old piece of-“ Vox is stopped, the lights to the exterior of the mansion dimming. The lights behind the large front doors opening slowly. Two tall black shadowy figures stepped from the door, smoke at their feet.

“Thank you all for your attendance. As we know, the annual Crimson Gala is held every year, and this year is no different. With the new extermination date, important decisions must be made. Tonight, ten individuals will be selected to sit at Madame’s table where she will discuss private plans on how to move forward.” The two said in unison. Everyone fell silent as more shadows appeared, each one sitting on the sides of the steps. Lights around the staircases began to light up, and people began making their way up the stairs.

“Well~ this should be fun.”

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

CHAPTER II - Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Previous chapter: [x] Word Count: 3.4k+ words (unedited). Genre/other tags: Angst with some fluff. Jealousy. Fem pronouns used. Warnings: Swearing. Self-deprecation. Manipulation (on Alastor's part).

It had been nearly over a week since you and Lucifer last talked – it had also been a week since Lucifer was last seen around in the hotel. Angel, being the gossiper he was, relayed everything that had transpired between you two to the others the following day. Seeing the sensitive and sad shell of a person you were left in, everyone remained cautious and had started walking on eggshells around you. Of course, you were quick to pick up on that, as embarrassing as it all was (minus Alastor, who continued on with his usual theatrics and mischief). 

Charlie in particular was the most concerned out of them all, since this was her dad we were talking about. She knew with certainty that he was confining himself in the castle to distract himself from what happened – likely something involving his rubber-ducky obsession – instead of facing the problem head on. It was his pride that sometimes got in the way of his better judgement.

Not only that, but Charlie clearly saw the massive toll it took on you. If you weren’t distracting yourself with work or doing something related to the hotel, you would lock yourself away in your room, only coming out to quickly grab a bite to eat from the kitchen. Charlie even made efforts to strike many conversations with you from time to time, but was either excused or was only given one-worded responses. She knew not to take your dismissive behaviour to heart, but she couldn’t help but fret over you.  

So it came as an absolute surprise when out of nowhere, Charlie received a call from her father. She messily scrambled for her phone on her desk, fumbling and nearly dropping it in the process before violently tapping on the small screen. “H-Hello?! Dad, hey!” She answers a bit too enthusiastically while nervously combing her hair with a free hand. “Uh, hey Charlie!” Lucifer stiffly greets from the other line, “I just…um, thought I’d give a call to, uh, see how everyone’s going at the hotel!” The Princess noted how much hoarser his voice was than usual, but decided not to comment on it aloud. 

“Well, y’know how it is! It’s been busy and lively as always–everyone’s been working really hard and all,” she answers vaguely, nervously chuckling. “Err, yeah! Right. That’s a–that’s a relief to hear. Yep,” he hums. There was a brief, awkward pause that ensued soon after, the both of them not knowing what to say next. The whole exchange was becoming increasingly painful that Charlie resisted the urge to pull her hair. She then clears her throat. “H-How about you, dad? What’ve you been up to? You’ve been gone for a couple or so days,” Charlie finally musters, “are…are you doing alright?” 

“Me? Oh yeah, psh! I just got, erm…a lot of things going on at the moment. It’s not so easy being the big boss of hell after all! Got a lot of important things to do! Plus, I’ve got heaps of paperwork to do for the hotel. You should know how tedious that is,” He says, adding an exaggerated groan. 

The princess furrows her brows. “Oh, that’s…strange. ’Cause I could’ve sworn you left all the papers here…y’know, the ones you told me to revise over?” Charlie replies, side-eyeing the said documents stacked neatly on her desk. A startled yelp escapes his throat. “O-Oh...did I?” He stammers.

Charlie couldn’t help but wince at the evident panic that began to set in as she listened to her father make incomprehensible noises from the other line. It was a poor attempt in reasoning, which ultimately became useless in the end. Lucifer let out a long sigh, caught red-handed. “Oh, who the hell am I kidding? You guys probably already know what happened–which by the way, Charlie, you shouldn’t be lying to me about!” He pointedly remarks. 

“I-I’m sorry, dad! It’s just…I’m really worried about you,” she reasons, before shortly adding, “...The both of you.” 

There was a small pause. “...How is she, by the way?” He then asks quietly. Charlie nervously tugs her bottom lip with her fangs. “Well, she’s keeping herself busy. Constantly, as a matter of fact. And I know she’s trying hard to convince us all that she’s holding up okay, but…she doesn’t look too good, dad. She seems really upset.”

A shaky exhale sounded from his end. “I…I really am hopeless, aren’t I?” He mumbles defeatedly. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could picture him burying his face in his hands. The image caused Charlie’s eyes to soften. “Dad, no. It’s not too late. You still have a chance to make things right,” Charlie gently encourages through the speaker, “you just need to talk to each other–”

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, a bright, blazing portal manifests from thin air – from it, emerges Lucifer himself who appeared extremely dishevelled, effectively catching Charlie off guard. 

“But, hun, y-you don’t understand! I messed up big time!” He exclaims, tugging on his unkempt hair as he aimlessly paced around her office. “I-I mean, look at me! I’m a fucking mess and a coward! Why would she ever think to take me back after what I did!?” He chuckles humourlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “I-It’s like no matter how many times I try to redeem and convince myself that everything’s finally going right in my life, I just continue to fuck myself over and over again. And it’s just– ugh! It’s pathetic! I’m fucking pathetic!” 

Charlie’s chest tightened considerably as she watched her father self-destruct before her. Strands of his golden hair were sticking out here and there, his dress-shirt tousled, and his eyes were glossed over and red, from both a lack of sleep and crying. He looked utterly devastated. Chucking her phone away, she immediately sped towards and enveloped Lucifer in her arms, who immediately broke down into heavy sobs. Seeing him like this brought tears to her own eyes, but she firmly told herself to be the stronger person in this situation, for his sake. 

“Hey, hey. Dad, listen to me, okay? Everyone deserves a second chance. You of all people should know–you were the one who taught me that, remember?” Charlie rubbed his back soothingly, trying to ease the jumpiness of his shoulders. “And that also applies to you. I…I know you’ve been through a lot, especially with mum…” She couldn’t help the way her frown deepened as she spoke, “...and I miss her too. I miss her a lot. But…I think it’s finally time for you to move on. It’s been years, dad. You deserve to be happy and you’re allowed to be in love again.” 

“[Name]’s an amazing person, and there’s no doubt about that. She’s proved that more than many times already. I’m certain that once things ease over and you guys finally talk things through, everything will turn out okay; she’s very understanding and kind like that. You’ll both be okay.” Charlie gently pulls Lucifer away and with the sleeve of her blazer, she wipes his damp, reddened cheeks. “I know for a fact that she loves and cares about you deeply – we can all see it as clear as day. You…you love her too, don’t you, dad?” 

For a brief moment’s contemplation, Lucifer suddenly recalled the times you spent together, from your initial meeting to now. He had always thought you were a strong and independent soul, with the way you carried yourself. You just had something about you that naturally drew in those around you, including himself. When Lucifer got to know you in a deeper level, he was enthralled by how kind and understanding you were – you were always there to listen to his many tales and endless nonsense; you would always seem genuinely interested in his rubber-duck-esque inventions, offering some input and critiquing his creations; and you would always be so, so supportive of all his plans and ideas, no matter how extraordinary they all seemed.

If he hadn't known any better, Lucifer would've thought you were an actual angel. You were the saviour that wore off the darkness in troubling times, and the one who pulled him out of the void that Lilith had left him in. That and more, as you continuously gave him a real reason to remain hopeful. You were proof personified, that he was able to open his heart once more, and to love again.

“I-I do, I really do,” Lucifer affirms in a heartbeat. Charlie smiles warmly, relieved by his answer, “then that’s all you need to say.” At that moment, Lucifer's chest swelled in overwhelming pride for his daughter, knowing that despite not being as present in her life until recently, she grew up to be the good and strong-willed person he had hoped for.

“O-Oh, jeez. Since when did you grow up so big? I should be the one comforting you,” He tearfully jokes, sniffling whilst returning her smile, “but thank you, Charlie. Really. I’m…I-I really am grateful to call you my daughter.” The two royalties then shared a heart-felt moment and a bone-crushing hug, with the King's heart being filled with a new-found determination. Because, just as he always says: The show must go on. 

Earlier on:

On the other side of the building, you were drowning yourself in your own self-despair as you overlooked the balcony by the front entrance of the hotel. Your eyes lazily scanned the new hotel patrons below, who were engaging in some trust exercises led by Vaggie, who came in to cover you just moments ago. Every once in a while, you couldn’t help but glance at your phone, silently hoping to receive some sort of notification from Lucifer, or even an inkling of his whereabouts. But you received nothing, which only fuelled your growing anxiety.

You felt awful leaving the way you did that night, especially after dumping so much onto Lucifer. You felt like you were being completely selfish, and had cornered him into making a big decision. And because of that, your relationship was on the line. You let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing angrily at your face.

Little did you know however, that you had some company lurking nearby, watching you in silent amusement. 

“Now, don’t you look as miserable as ever?” Alastor mockingly chimes in, stepping out from the shadows to make his presence known and joins you by the balcony. You roll your eyes at the deer-demon before turning your head the other direction. “Yeah, and what about it?” You scoff, leaning in to rest your arms against the rails, “Can’t you go bother someone else, Alastor? I’m certainly not in the mood right now.”  

“Why, I wouldn’t be a good hotelier if I left a dear co-worker of mine so down in the slumps!” To your dismay, Alastor reappears in front of you, obstructing your field of view, "And might I add, it's not healthy for you to be all cooped up in your room all the time – stay there any longer, and it can do silly, little things to your head!" He emphasises his point as he spins a finger in a circular motion by his temple. You shot him an irritated look, slowly growing fed up by his prodding. 

"Listen, I don't need you telling me what I should and shouldn't do. I’m more than capable of deciding that on my own,” you growl, straightening up to cross your arms firmly against your chest. “Hm...no, I don’t think so!” Alastor hums, shaking his head disapprovingly, “The unfortunate affair that took place in your courtship with the King has left you in such a vulnerable, and problematic state. And I’m sure you’ve taken note of how everyone’s been acting around you – constantly walking on their tiptoes in fear of setting you off on a hissy-fit. You’ve caused them to worry a lot about you, dear. Poor ol’ Charlie, especially.” 

You open your mouth to retort back, but nothing came out. A strong pang of guilt struck you as his words began to sink in. Seeing this, Alastor’s grin widened a faction as he stepped forward and levelled himself with you, now facing you eye-to-eye. “And as the executive producer of this fine establishment, might I critique that your behaviour is affecting our team’s morale and performance…and we mustn’t have that now, should we? Especially not since we’ve all been more preoccupied recently with our guests!” He…had a fair point, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t…know…” Your voice began to trail off, shoulders slumping in realisation of how selfish and contemptuous you’ve been acting this whole week. You recalled the fretful expressions of your friends and your dismissive attitude towards them. “I-I didn’t mean to make everyone worry…” you quietly say. Alastor’s words only made you feel immensely worse about the whole situation, leaving you sniffling on the spot. 

“Now, now. As long as you realise your mistakes, then you shall be forgiven,” he coos, softly patting the tuft of your head. At that, you couldn’t help but send a doubtful glance his way. “W-wait a minute…why do you care all of a sudden? What exactly are you playing at?” You suspiciously question as you rub at your eyes. 

“Oh, how you wound me, dear! Why must you always question any act of kindness I display? Is it really that hard to believe?” He adverts, evidently feigning hurt. You deadpan. “Yes, it is,” you reply almost instantly. Alastor chortles at your bluntness, “Haha! You’re quite a work of art, aren't you, dear? Now, let’s go out for a walk, shall we?” 

Before you could’ve processed what he had said, Alastor had already spun you around, pulling you with him as you both headed down a flight of stairs. “Wha–Alastor, where are we–where the heck are you taking me?” You asked, trying to keep up with his long strides so as to not trip down the stairs. “Hm? Did I not already specify? It looks like your brooding has impacted your hearing, dear. That’s a shame,” he slyly comments, now dragging you towards the entrance, “We’re both going for a walk around town, it’ll help clear that cloudy head of yours!” 

“Hold on-Stop! Just what makes you think I’d agree to go out with you?” You shoot back, retracting your arm from his hold and stopping metres behind him. Alastor sharply turns around and pulls out a wrinkled, yellow piece of paper out of thin air. Your eyes dart towards the sheet, seeing a familiar hand-writing across the page. 

“Why, I just knew you were going to question me – you're so predictable. But might I add, we’re not going out without purpose! No, no! Our lovely Charlie has composed a list and requested we fetch a couple items in town!” Stepping forward, you swiftly snatched the paper from his clawed hand and briefly scanned the list, noting that it largely consisted of decorations and party items. “She wanted to organise a heart-warming celebration for the wayward souls here who have accomplished some milestones on their journey to redemption! An anniversary ceremony of sorts, if you will,” Alastor explains, lightly patting the non-existing dust off of his suit.

“But couldn’t you just…I don’t know, teleport the things here?” You blatantly ask, raising a brow at him. You knew he was more than capable of doing such minuscule tasks within a span of seconds. “And waste such a beautiful day outside? Now, why would I even consider doing that?” Alastor states matter-of-factly, “And like I said, the short trip will help clear your troubled mind! Consider it a gesture of compassion from yours truly.” 

There was clearly something off about all this but you couldn’t see any reason for an ulterior motive. It was just…simply a manager looking out for the well-being of his work-colleagues, as uncharacteristic and off-putting as it sounded out loud. Already exhausted, you couldn’t bring it in yourself to question his actions any further.

“You’re really not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, are you?” You ask. Seeing the way Alastor’s grin widened had you sighing in defeat. “Shall we then?” Alastor questions, offering an arm out to you. Rolling your eyes, you loop one of your arms through and follow him out the hotel. ‘A small walk wouldn’t hurt…’ you think to yourself as the doors shut behind you. 

Currently:

Lucifer tiredly dragged himself to his designated room in the hotel, to rest for a while and take a much needed bath as per Charlie’s advice. He gave himself a lengthy pep-talk in front of the mirror as he brushed his teeth, deciding to approach you tonight to finally talk and clear things out. Yes, he was absolutely terrified about the possibility of things going south during the confrontation, but he didn’t think he could handle another second being without you. And he needed to make that loud and clear. 

After putting on an outfit and neatly slicking his hair back, Lucifer looked at his reflection once more in the bedside mirror, inspecting himself up and down to flatten any remaining creases of his clothing. But it wasn't until his gaze landed on his left hand that he tensed up. Peering down, he brought his hand into view to inspect the very wedding band that caused it all. With a shaky sigh, Lucifer slowly pulled the ring off of his finger. He took a moment to examine it, eyes filled with sentiment before kneeling down to open his bedside drawer, where its designated ring-box sat. The moment he encased the ring in its box and locked it away in his drawer, it felt like a breath of fresh air. To his own surprise, Lucifer found himself tearfully laughing – he felt...genuinely happy. Proud, even. It was at this very moment that he felt like he was finally ready to move forward.

After patting the stray tears away from his face, Lucifer slowly made his way down to the front lobby. There, Charlie and Vaggie were talking amongst themselves by the lounge area, whilst Angel and Cherri chuckled away by the bar, with Husk tending to their beverages. The King didn’t give an inkling of care as to where Alastor had gone, and he was certain that Nifty was hiding somewhere in the small crevices of the hotel, cleaning away. All in all, there was no sight of you whatsoever, visibly disappointing him. 

Seeing his approaching form, Charlie waved his father over towards them. “Hey, dad. Are you feeling a bit better now?” She asks with a comforting smile. “Yeah, totally. Thanks, dear,” he says, patting her shoulder affectionately before turning his attention towards her partner. “Hey! How’s it going, Maggie? I’ve heard you’ve been working real hard lately, huh? Good on yah!” He commends, playfully nudging the said demon. “Oh, um…it’s–it’s Vaggie, sir. And uh, thanks,” she nervously chuckles, rubbing her arm. “Mhm, yeah…that’s–that’s great,” Lucifer distractedly hums, all the while scanning around the room. Noticing this, Vaggie shared a worried look with Charlie. 

“Erm, dad, she’s not here at the moment if that’s what you’re wondering,” Charlie starts, alerting her father. “Oh? Well, is she up in one of the guest rooms?” Lucifer asked, gesturing upstairs with a thumb. To his confusion, Charlie appeared somewhat nervous, her hands fidgeting with her suit. “Uh, no, she’s actually not in the hotel at the moment,” Vaggie steps in, “she’s been out doing a couple of errands for us.” Lucifer raised a brow at the slight edginess in her tone, eyes darting back and forth between the two girls. “...Um, alright. What the heck is going on right now?" He asks, pointing an accusatory finger at them both, "You guys are acting sketchy as fuck. Are you...are you guys hiding something from me?" He narrows his eyes. Charlie sucks in a breath, brows pinching together, “Well...dad, t-the thing is–” 

“She’s out with Smiles right now!” Angel suddenly intervened, calling out from the other side of the room, and causing Charlie to cower and duck behind Vaggie. Lucifer felt his shoulders grow rigid. “She’s…what now?” He dangerously asks, glaring at the arachnid. Before Lucifer trudged towards the direction of the bar, the front doors of the hotel abruptly flew open. He felt the vein in his neck nearly burst at the sound of your laughter interlacing itself with that god-awful, irritating radio feedback. What a wild coincidence.

As Lucifer turned around, his eyes nearly flew out of his head as he saw how close you were with Alastor, arms basically locked together. The radio-demon was quick to meet eyes with the King, and out of spite, Alastor flashed him the biggest shit-eating grin he's ever seen.

“Oh, fuck no!”

Chapter III - Finale [x]

Thank you for reading!

[scarlettmurphy]

STARCROSSED PT2 +ੈ✩‧₊˚ LOGAN HOWLETT.

logan and y/n — where you are completely in love with a man older then you’re father by a good century or so.. whose completely in love with another.

- content warning age gap (is legal) drinking. explicit. swearing. dirty humour. comfort (an ounce). drugs. nsfw. sick. body issues. sh. angst.. maybe happy endings?! pairings: older!logan howlett x xaiver!reader. logan howlett x jean grey.

spoiler: insane yearning and angst i’m sorry im too far gone ☹️ happy ? where.

note this is part two to starcrossed, prepare for even heavier angst!🫶🏻 i didn’t realise how sad this was until i finished the chapter and realised holy shit this is long. part three is already in the works. i hope u enjoy it! make sure to read pt1. it’s a bit diff from the first one but i hope u like it still. also if you’ve seen the movie ten things i hate about u the mid bit of this might remind u of that one scene if u get me :) song: need you now by lady a cos i was listening to it and jeff buckley whilst reading this? also on the timeline im going for like xmen 2 time i think?

tags — @faceache111 @malfoys-demigod @navs-bhat @dilfismz @thisbipuff-isaswiftie @twinky-wink @thewiselionessss @thecraziestcrayon @awhoreforalotofshows @emily-b @jae48 @cxptainbuck @444st4rg1rl 🫶🏻

[i hope you like it!!]

you’d absolutely love to believe that what you heard last night wasn’t what happened but as your mind goes over the previous night as you fought yourself to stay awake during your fathers little class your brain couldn’t forget the continuous moans and little yells that you heard from a few rooms across from your own at the mansion for a good hour or two last night. you can’t help but figure out that logan most certainly found jean and just thinking about it made you feel sick. scott being the main thing on your brain after you got over the fact logan most definitely fucked jean last night.

she was a cheater. what else could you expect? your thoughts swirling in your brain causing an indescribable amount of heart ache as you kept yourself completely quiet and withdrawn from whatever was going on in this lesson, rogue clearly being able to tell you were off as she glanced at bobby giving him a look you picked up on — him shrugging his shoulders in return as you cursed your sadness for being so obvious.

just the thought of jean and logan staring at eachother hurt you but her touching him, his hands over her skin, her lips on his, his mind only on her in that moment and his gaze locked into hers as she let him take her yet again enraged you to another level it was a struggle not to jump into his mind and find out exactly what happened but you couldn’t, you wouldn’t. your brain fighting with your heart in every way as you felt sick with all those pictures of the scenario you were forming for yourself.

so from that knowledge as you sat in class you knew you needed to stop liking him for good. he didn’t like you, he was throwing it in your face. you heard it all and it hurt you too much to bare. you didn’t even wanna look at him — that single thought of contact sending you crazy. you couldn’t even bring yourself to see him today. you didn’t want too, you couldn’t. seeing jean as you passed through the kitchen earlier was enough to make you nearly cry and immediately stop that tiny breakfast you had made.

you really couldn’t deal with this. one bit. you never did well with emotional pain — physical was something you could endure, yet emotional was always something you couldn’t stomach ever since you were a little girl.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

you'd been avoiding him like the plague. literally. whenever you saw him at the end of the halls you'd turn the other away, force a little smile and act like you had somewhere to go if you were in conversation and it had been like that for two weeks. two weeks had passed since one of your normal conversations, the friendly chats you admired in your brain and made out to be more, the little touches he'd give you that you couldn't comprehend was only a friend thing to do, the way he'd hug you.. the deep conversations, the way he'd sometimes kiss your forehead before you left for bed, watching the rain together and just joking together all something you had put in the past. that had been gone for two weeks and to say it was breaking you would be an understatement.

you could tell others has noticed the practical borderline dissociation within you since you had been a little mute recently not that it was specially due to logan (it completely all was) but you didn't want it to be obvious, you hated that it could be perceived that way so you knew you had to do something about it. who knew heartache for one that didn't love you back could destroy you this badly from the inside out?

.. and today was no different on the logan front. you saw him once today in the halls ushering something to hank — the two in bustling conversation and you made sure not to risk it by going to class, to upset over it all to deal with another short horrible conversation where you were nothing but cold to him as you tried to cut down any romantic feelings you had for him. every time you spoke now you could see the confusion and frustration in his eyes, the mental image to much to bare as you went on hiding in your room and pondering and that’s where you had been since — buried in clothing choices as you tried to stomach down the anxiety that had been growing in you over the fact it was jeans birthday party today and you would have to make an appearance after you had been a hermit since you’d got your heart broken by a guy that didn’t even know. rogue and bobby being the only two people you had really spoke too since the shut down yet their concern had been growing annoying as rogue clearly told bobby about the little crush she could’ve guessed, and got out of you when the two of you were high together a few months ago, you had on logan. bobby actually giving you little options of guys you could date to get over someone which was all you needed to hear when you realised rogue had told him as he literally mentioned hank who they knew you recently hiked with since he had been bothering you over your melancholy, yet you had left before it was a full fledge little argument.

just the thought of having to socialise with him and the others and step out of the hole you’d built for yourself to hide in irritated you especially for jean of all people’s party, your ‘smidge’ of hatred for the woman who had really been rude to you since she’d known you not because of logan, because god on that front she wins and it feels like she’s married to him despite her ties to scott, but on the power front. she knew you had powers incomparable to hers that you hardly even showcased magneto being someone who taught you many things when you were younger, your own parents being raven and charles. of course you had powers which were indescribable.

and most of the time you wanted to use it on that bitch. you were lucky she couldn’t get into your twisted mind to find that fact out.

you let out a little sigh as you decided on the black mini skirt and sweater — you finally having an excuse for the fall outfit and lack of dress because it was october which has always been your favourite season and best time of year yet this year that didn’t apply because you haven’t been hardly able to enjoy it because of isolation you’d forced yourself into.

y/n had to swallow her own self pity down as she leaned over to her perfume bottle on the drawer next to her mirror as she took in the image of her body in the skirt. her shrinking body, a scoff leaving her lips as she wasn’t happy with what she saw in the reflection. she never could be. the aroma of the perfume not masking her feelings at all as she put on some dc martens paired with black tights. the perfect little outfit yet she was sure jean would be outshining her on that front. god she didn’t even wanna imagine logan’s eyes being locked onto jean tonight, the heart ache already unbearable to comprehend as she swallowed a lump that formed in her throat. that aching feeling hadn’t gone away since the start of knowing logan the way she did, maybe that was a sign from the people above about how destined it was.. or how not it was.

these muddled thoughts led her too some early drinking as if she wouldn’t be getting shitfaced later. pregaming alone which is a bit self pity full as she swallowed the burning liquor down her throat, the whiskey hitting her softly and slowly enough to give her the confidence to leave her room twenty minutes later for this party.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

the decorations were perfect, the present corner was overflowing and the students and people were everywhere. jean being clearly the popular girl from the looks of this party, as if y/n already didn’t know that, as the blasting music just made her more aware of the scenario she was in as she fought the urge to look around the room for logan as she went straight over to the bar that had been made. the party was the perfect one a girl, woman, could ask for and y/n could feel the jealously bubbling already that she bit down as she forced a friendly smile to join her lips.

walking through the dancing groups of people, there hardly even being any spaces to walk unless you wanted to bump into a coked up or insanely drunk teenager or wade. who she was lucky to get past without having to talk to yet, no matter how much she did like and enjoy his company she couldn’t deal with his jokes right now which she could guess who’d they’d be centered around, she knew he knew to some extent she was just lucky he hadn’t out rightly said it. that would be too much pity for her to deal with, that coming from wade being another level of pathetic.

the second she leant against the bar she managed to grab the busy barmaids attention giving her a soft nod and polite smile as she didn’t notice the figure beside her as she asked for a coke and vodka.

“thank god you’re showing your face — i thought i was going to have to clone you to get a good conversation.” hank rolled out his tipsiness showing as he pulled y/n into a tight hug when he was sat down on the stool. y/n letting out a low chuckle as she hugged him back nicely, his presence being a little surprise she tried not to seem so bothered about.

“hiya hank.” y/n said softly as the barmaid came over with her drink, placing it next to her. “thanks.” y/n nodded out as hank placed his hand on the stool next to him as she immediately grabbed it and took a swig.

“come! sit.” he ushered in with a drunken smile on his face, a bright one as usual, as he patted the bar stool next to him inviting her to sit and before y/n could even speak up in reply as she slid down on the stool hank bit in.

“where the hell have you been?” he abruptly said bluntly, putting a little look on his face off one that’s pissed off as y/n felt the guilt rush through her as she wrapped her fingers around the glass drowning her truth in the drink as she took a big sip off the liquor acting as if that didn’t taste appalling as she shrugged her shoulders at hanks obvious question which has an obvious answer to that she’d play off as a stupid claim if questioned about it.

“—i’ve been busy! controlling powers— small missions, and that.” y/n lied out.

hank furrowed his eyebrows at his words, giving her a knowing look before he shook his head swiftly at what she said. seeing right through her little lie he truly knew nothing much about what the truth was or not as he took a little sip of his beer.

“i know you but i’m not pushing it— rather you bite of logan’s heads rather then mine.” hank said out lowly as y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at his comment as a look of confusion spread over her face at the mention of him but before she could question hank on it she was met with two hands around her waist, pulling her tightly back purposely.

“hello pretty little liars, you’re aria?” wade said loudly into her ear his drunkenness obvious as y/n scoffed, him clearly stating that because her outfit choice as he squeezed her even tighter y/n’s eyes rolling as she elbowed him playfully back as his hands on her faltered as he playfully shoved her back.

“—elsa! you made it snow yet?” y/n said back to him as she was met with the sound of his laughter as he pulled on the stool next to y/n, making the guy who was sat on it mutter a curse before wade sent him a glare and then went speed walking away clearly a boy as young as fourteen or thirteen who just got the shit scared out him for, wade’s harsh look as he sqt down on the stool as he met y/n’s gaze.

“you know i have honey.” he nodded out with a smirk as hank leaned into the twos space.

“shots anyone?” hank rolled out, fixing his glasses as wade enthusiastically said a quick yes, y/n adding to the fire. “—very much needed.” y/n drove out as wade sent her a little look of knowing yet he held back the urge to call her out on it. he was being a ‘good’ friend in his eyes anyway, he didn’t wanna hear her say things about logan when he knew a few things himself on how the other party felt.

hank calling the barmaid over as wade pulled y/n’s stool closer to his that knowing look still present on his face as he played with the knowledge he had a bit just in a little playful way.

“you seen the birthday girl yet?..gave her a gift?” wade said sarcastically knowing the two didn’t really see eye to eye on a LOT of things as y/n gave him a little glare, him having been present for many of their little disagreements.

“luckily i haven’t, as i’ve brung nothing.” y/n rumbled back as wade nudged her playfully with her words as hank grabbed the tray of shots from the barmaid— y/n’s eyes widening once she saw how many shots he had ordered. “fifteen?” y/n broke out with a raised eyebrow as hank chuckled as he took one, downing it straight away before grabbing another as wade spoke up cockily.

“who’s pants are you trying to get into?” wade rolled out, his voice sly as he grabbed two for himself as y/n leaned over and took one ready to get shitfaced, maybe that’d stop her mind from falling back onto logan every other second her longing heart internally hating this situation more and more as she yearned to see him but she bit back the urge to even look around for him. halting that urge by taking a shot.

“preferably anyone with a pulse and no dick between their legs.” hank said right as y/n took another shot, her nearly choking on the burning liquid which was a horrible mix of vodka and god knows what.

“i can tuck.” wade said lowly as this made it worse, y/n nudging wade, shaking her head as she held back her laugh as she swallowed the shot she just took. “disgusting!” she rolled out as she took another, downing it before placing the shot down on the table.

“ah! sweeties jealous.” wade spoke up sarcastically with that all familiar cocky smile on his face with that teasing glint in his eyes as he handed another shot y/n’s way as she took it gracefully as they all cheersed their glasses together. that being just one of the about eight times they did that within the next thirty to sixty minutes as y/n bit back her thoughts with copious amounts of shots and soon enough they had gone through a good four or so tray off shots and a few drinks each.

every passing minute y/n felt her mind get closer and closer to the edge as every time she felt that aching feeling grow she’d swallow it back with another sip of liquor or large shot — wades jokes passing the time and hanks yapping and her own occasional drunken chime in making her mind a mess as hank got another row of shots.

the songs and wade and hank’s voices becoming a blur in y/n’s mind as she swallowed nothing but the truth with those shots. every sip feeling like more heartache she couldn’t stop having.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/n was practically stuck too the bar stool, her eyes scanning the crowd occasionally (by occasionally around five times if not more a minute) as she looked for him. her mind lingering on a certain someone as it always tended to do the liquor just amplifying those feelings as hank spoke up.

“you know— you look like your mum.”

his words caused y/n’s attention to snap over to hank as she raised an eyebrow, wade making a little ‘oo’ in the background even if he couldn’t help but agree with his comment as he sipped on the cocktail he had ordered a few drinks previously that had just been laying there on the side. the bartender making a fuck ton of profit from these three miserables.

“very dead?” y/n said sarcastically as hank gave her a little look — clearly a little annoyed she didn’t take the comment seriously as he leaned a little closer to her.

“beautiful you idiot.” hank added out, his words making her eyebrows furrow a bit as she took in his drunken words as she gave him a little a smile — swallowing the depreciating joke she was close to making as she took a sip of her drink.

“thank you hank.” y/n nodded out calmly as wade butted in.

“—fucking hell, incoming for angry jacob twilight wannabe.” wade cursed out as y/n’s gaze moved over wade following his eyes to where he was looking, her heart feeling as if it was flipping and twisting in her chest as she watched logan walk into the bar games room as she furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of jean following him angrily. her looking perfect as ever.

yet before y/n could think another thought she locked eyes with logan from across the room — their eyes meeting as she felt a weight lift immediately onto her as she swallowed a lump that formed in her throat at just the sight of him. it felt as if time has frozen just as they looked to each other , his eyes taking everything about her in as she did the same his way.

he practically immediately walked over, more like stomped over, as he seemed clearly agitated. more then usual as his eyes dawned onto wade and hank before resting back to y/n as he stopped in his tracks in front of the seated three.

“who thought getting a teenager shitfaced was a good idea?” logan nearly growled out, giving wade a glare as y/n’s eyes lingered back on jean who saw who he was talking to and turned away her being even more pissed then him, y/n holding the urge to go into her mind and find out why as she brung her gaze onto logan after seeing jean walk off somewhere else in the room, her patience clearly wearing thin. her wanting to make a little childish comment about how she wasn’t when wade spoke up.

“gods probably.” wade rolled out in reply as logan scoffed at what he said.

“y/n.” logan said, her eyes meeting his own as she took in his appearance. her eyes lingering on the chain that was wrapped around his neck — one he told her was something jean gave him when he first became an xmen, something he hasn’t worn in months, this fact only making her feel a number of horrible thoughts as she grabbed her drink and took a mean swig. swallowing her own building self pity as she forced a fake smile logan immediately knew to be fake.

“hi.” she said swiftly after she put her drink back down on the table — his eyebrow raising a little at her hostility as he looked to wade, hank the back to her.

“uh—“ logan spoke up, trying to find the words to say as he looked at her a bit lost for words at how she was acting as he swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat — feeling his frustration rise as he tried to control it, “where have you been?” he said lowly, hank raising his eyebrow at how this little conversation seemed weirdly tension filled. wade knew why, he could’ve called her little feelings for him back when she first met the guy but now he couldn’t help see how serious it was because off the way she was looking at him and how it was affecting her.

he couldn’t even brung himself to but in as he buried himself in his drink. hank doing the same.

“i’ve been busy. but i’ve been around— i saw you two days ago.” she said quickly, shifting in her seat a little as his eyes almost felt as if they burnt through her.

“you didn’t stay,” he said taking a pause as he looked at her, taking in just how intoxicated she seemed as he tried to analyse it, “like you uh- normally, do.”

his words touched a nerve on y/n as she felt that all familiar heart ache grow y/n trying to act as if the feeling inside her wasn’t killing her right now and ripping her to shreds as she kept her gaze on him, his eyes on her making her think and feel a number of things she hated.

“—had somewhere to be.” she replied quickly, his eyebrows raising at her bluntness to her reply as he knew something was off. he sensed it, the drunkness only adding to his worry as he went to step closer when he was cut off by a voice behind him.

y/n eyes dawned on the sight off jean, a tight silver dress on showcasing her curves as her red hair flowed down by her side as she looked at logan who hadn’t even brung himself to met her gaze yet. y/n immediately being hit with a truck load of insecurities just with a glance to the older women who had the only guy she’d ever loved wrapped around her finger.

y/n’s heart feeling as if it was stepped on as she kept her gaze on him — time feeling a little slow motion.

“logan—now.” jean said harshly.

“lo- logan.” she said again, y/n not leaving logan’s gaze as he swallowed his own spit as he eventually brung his gaze over to jean.

“logan— he knows.” she said harshly, her words a little quiet as they were clearly just meant for logan’s ears yet y/n heard them. “now! come on?” she questioned out frustratedly, saying that to grip his attention as logan looked to jean then back to y/n, wade and hank watching like it was a drama.

the air felt thick with some sort of something as y/n swallows, her eyes on him as he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“be careful kid, remember to slow down.” he rolled out before he turned away with jean going right to her side as y/n scoffed as he walked off turning her attention back to the barmaid — not feeling logan’s eyes burning back to her as he took a long glance her way before disappearing off with jean into the party to sort whatever was happening.

y/n rolled her eyes the second she turned her attention back over to the bar as she looked down at the bar table, swallowing her thoughts down with the rest of her vodka as she felt the others eyes on her. they sensed on the tension — it was impossible not too.

“so they’re fucking again.” hank commented lowly and cluelessly. his words being like a gut punch to y/n as she bit down on her tongue as she called back over the barmaid, leaning over and ordering a couple shots as she sat back down in her seat.

“mm, most definitely.. hell for scott.” wade ushered out lowly, feeling a sense of guilt as he saw the way y/n’s eyes fell as y/n tried to mute out their conversation in the background as she welcomed the shots with open arms as she pulled the tray closer to her as she heard wade and hank whisper behind her as they leant over to gossip about the rumours of jean and scott being over as y/n’s heart felt as if it was plummeting and beating as fast as it ever had with every shot she took. the information she was hearing just making her internal pain grow worse as she tried to drink it away every shot seemingly enhancing her hurt as the metal images she were getting hurt her brain as she felt the urge to do something about it.

her mind full of relentless unlimited thoughts that were screaming at her as she placed the last empty shot glass she had down — the shots helping limit the voices to some extent as the barmaid came over and refilled them without another word most likely sensing her anguish as y/n nodded to her with as much of a smile she could muster up as she thought back to the conversation with logan.

“we’re going to dance— you coming?” wade spoke to y/n as that brung her out her gaze with the bottom of the shot glass as she shook her head, “no—thanks,” she slurred out as hank gave her a small nod and pat on the shoulder before they disappeared of into the crowd leaving her alone after saying their be right backs— her lips immediately around another glass as she finished the rest of the drinks thay were laid out in front-of her.

y/n either needed fresh air and a sick bucket or the man she loved and craved, and she was going with the latter. her desires only heightened which was making just about everything worse due to the mess the alcohol had started to cause her brain and body.

her heart pounding as she stood up, everything going messy and spin like as she stumbled through the crowd. her mind on one thing and one thing only, one person, as she got pushed around a bit by the dancing people as she made her way out the bar room she was in. her eyes searching the place as she looked for him in every corner, in every face, every person, every laugh, every grunt and every noise. she was searching for him like she had been doing within her heart ever since she’d know the man.

yet what she didn’t expect to see when she turned the corner was him right there. logan right there in his bubble of perfection as she saw it. her eyes taking him in as she saw him in the hallway — a smile joining her lips as she started to walk over to him planning what she was going to say in her brain. how she was going to do any of this? she didn’t even know what she had planned, she just wanted to speak to him. she needed to see his smile. she missed it. she wanted to make him laugh like usual, she wanted to kiss him, feel his touch. she needed it, it was destroying her to not have him. why was she ignoring him for the past two weeks? she should just tell him. nothing bad could hap—

“mine.” she swore she could make out logan saying, her eyebrows furrowing in pure confusion as she took one little step closer to where he was as her eyes dawned on a certain red head with a killer smirk on her lips as she had a tight grip on his chain.

and with that every thought she just had was crushed within the space of five or so seconds as she heard jean’s light hearted chuckle next, her voice grating against y/n’s mind as she swallowed her own spit back down as she made sure she couldn’t be seen by them. feeling the sick feeling rising in her as she watched logan’s hands wrap around jean’s waist as she pulled him closer to her in a teasing action that broke y/n’s heart in two.

she was frozen in her tracks, watching as the one she loved was with the one he loved.

“you’re mine.” ringing in her ears as she just made out what he had said to jean as his words sent a chill through y/n’s body as she felt the tears start to boil in her eyes as she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene. her mouth fallen gap as she watched as he roughly had her against the door jean’s hand going down to the handle of said door as y/n watched as jean pulled him in the room with her roughly.

the door slamming behind them as she felt her beating out her chest, her breath shaky and hitched as she swallowed.

and when she heard a little squeal come from the room over the music a few seconds or minutes later, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, that’s when she knew she needed to go before she turned into a public laughing stock as she turned on her heel — shakily making her way through the crowd again, unbeknownst to the tears dropping down her cheeks as she fought her way through the dancing crowd as she tried to get the hell out of here as she thought she was fighting back her emotions, yet she really wasn’t doing too good of a job with it.

“watch it!” someone yelled out over the music to y/n as she shuffled past them quickly, stumbling out and disappearing through the back door as she made her break for it. her heart feeling broken to an extreme it hadn’t felt before which was only amplified by the alcohol as she felt her brain chemistry formed for logan be destroyed within a matter of moments. seeing it in front of her own eyes being completely different from assuming it had happened.

the fact they were doing that right now she just couldn’t and didn’t want too comprehend it. it hurting her so much she felt as if she was going to be sick, she could feel it to the extremist point that when she managed her way to the end of the courtyard where her little spot was with her childhood swing set, where she’s surprised she even remembered the whereabouts off in this state, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning down into a bush shakily.

her mouth watering, her throat burning with liquid as y/n threw up into the bush her heart pounding ridiculously as she felt the tears burning against her cheek as she didn’t even notice the feeling off two strong hands holding her hair back. her body shaking as she kept being sick, feeling the acid burn her throat as she felt a strong hand round her hair pulling it into a ponytail and another hand around her fragile body to keep her up.

her body flinching a little at the touch as the person leaned a little closer as y/n was sick some more, “it’s okay—“ a low voice ushered out as y/n couldn’t help be sick again, leaning down closer into the bush nearly tripping into it as the person held her upright. their hand snacking onto her waist as y/n leaned back into their touch. basically tripping into it as she let out a shaky breath as she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her top.

her eyes moving up onto an all familiar face and she instantly cursed in her brain as he managed to move her over to the swings, sitting her down in one of two seats as she clung to the chain of it leaning her body against it freely as she let out a little cry.

“you’re good.” scott said softly his voice low as he spoke into a comforting tone that didn’t completely soothe her as she felt the tears trail down her cheek as he kneeled down — his hands stabilising the swing that was rocking a little as he looked up at her making sure she was okay on the swing. the cold air hitting the twos faces as the moon shone down on the courtyard, the faint sound of pop music from the mansion being completely distant to both of them.

“scott.” she managed to say, him being able to tell how far gone she was by the way she slurred her words as if her crying and throwing up didn’t prove that enough. his eyes on her as he moved her hair out the way for her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she held back a little sob which wasn’t held back that well as she let out a shaky whimper.

“w-why— doesn-t he love me?” she spoke out quickly, her breath shaky and her voice high pitched as she let out little sniffles in between words, the weight of those making a sad smile tug on scott’s lips as he kept his hand on her face trying to keep her upright which was sort of impossible as he kept his comforting warm hand against her face. just trying to make her feel okay.

“—he—“ scott cut himself off before he moved closer to her, trying to keep her calm, “he does love you okay?”

y/n shook her head at scott’s words as she let out a muffled sob against her wrist, shaking her head as scott wiped the tears from her cheeks. “not like i want him to.” she rolled out in a slur, scott feeling his heart beat quicken at her little admission as if he didn’t know how she felt over him before as he moved his finger across her cheek in a soft circular motion, his hand cupping her jaw.

“hey- he does okay?” scott said quickly as he moved her jaw down so she met his eyes again, his tone soft as he moved himself to the other swing next to her — the second he was sat him moving his swing closer to her own. tangling the chains of his swing up a little in doing so.

“he does.” scott added out again, y/n not believing him at all as she swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat as she leaned herself again the hand that was cupping her face as she nearly tumbled off the swing.

her biting down on her tongue as she let out a little squeal as scott placed his hand on her back supporting and holding her up as a little chuckle left her lips as she leaned forward a little. scott not letting his hand move as worry was evident on his face as y/n turned to him a sad smile on her lips, tears still evident on her face.

“i wish.” he heard her whisper as he swallowed, his own voice breaking a little, “come on. okay? he doesn’t know what he’s missing right now.— he doesnt see you liking him.” scott said softly, giving her a little playful nudge as y/n started to lose the energy to even speak off it as she felt another tear slip down her cheek.

his words were taking the weight off her shoulders as she moved in the swing a little, scott’s comforting hand on her back which was now sort off around her waist making her sure she wasn’t going to fall as she moved a tiny bit closer to him on her swing. their swings touching a little.

“you deserve better then jean-y bitch.” she managed out lowly, scott not being able to help the chuckle that escaped his lips at how she put it as he looked out at the mansion in front of them. the moon present in his red tinted glasses.

“yeah— i’m starting to realise that.” he chuckled out as y/n gave him a drunken smile in return as she locked eyes with scott. someone she’d hardly noticed was this nice mostly due to the words logan remarked about him all the time as her smile couldn’t help but grow as she looked at him. the air softening between the two as y/n felt tiredness fall over her as she leant against the chains a little as she slowly moved her gaze over to the moon.

a few moments of silence passes before scott spoke up.

“y/n?” scott managed out trying to grab her attention as he saw he eyes wondering a bit. his eyebrows furrowing when he heard no answer in return, her silence scaring him as he nudged her.

“y/n?” he quickly said out once again, nudging her a little as he saw how limp her body was and noticed her closed eyes.

“fuck— y/n.” he ushered out quickly as he stood from his seat and went right to her side as he kneeled down, tapping her face to try and catch her attention. y/n stirring a little at his action as he stood up, pulling her up with him as he placed his hand around her waist as he tried to shake her a little which did the job as her eyes fluttered open to meet his own.

a drunken smile joining on her lips as a tear dropped down her cheek that she didn’t even notice as she chuckled a little, leaning close to him as she swayed a little.

“scott.” she said lowly as scott gave her a low chucke as she placed her arm around him drunk on, him wiping the tear of her cheek softly something he’d done a number of times since being in her presence tonight.

“okay it’s time to go sleep— im taking you to bed.” he explained softly as y/n looked at him with a little furrowed brow as he started to walk, helping her walk alongside him her hardly even able to realise she was walking as she leaned against his touch.

“you’re good.” he said calmly to her as they walked through the dark courtyard, the illuminated by the moon field of grass between them and the bustling school /xmansion being the only light to guide them. his grip on her tightening softly when she nearly tripped over her own feet, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he realised just how long of a walk it was to the mansion. him sighing as he held her upright. “nearly there.” he muffled out as y/n leaned to him.

“—‘m gonna be sick.” she quickly flushed out before throwing her head over in the other direction as scott patted her back and stopped in his tracks at her words as she was sick again — him holding the urge got to be sick too because the smell as he focused on helping her. his heart skipping a beat bit as he felt his anger growing over logan putting her in this situation where she was so drunk she was being sick or the fact that she was being sick just thinking about logan it made his blood boil as he felt his jaw clench — his eyebrows twitching as he helped her get it all out, whispering little comforts as he soothed her back.

“good girl. “ he said lowly as y/n brung her gaze into him once more him giving her a small sad smile as he placed his hand back around her waist to guide her, “cmon, bed.” he whispered out to her as they started walking again. having to go through the party definitely going to be a difficult task as scott tightened his grip around her waist as they walked past a couple people hanging around the outside area of the building as the music met y/n’s ears as once they got into the building scott called for people to move out the way as he made y/n stay close to him. her eyes wondering over everyone in her drunken haze as scott helped her over to the staircase which was through a couple wide, filled rooms.

her swearing she came across wade and hank in the corner with two twins and colossus’s doing a certain something to wade, her eyebrows furrowing at what she believed to have just seen as she shook it off as she met scott’s words.

“you need to be carried or are you okay?” scott asked as if he was babying her which sent a wave of comfort through her body as she let the question hang in her brain as she tried to form answer to it as she leaned herself against scott.

“‘u—‘i can—“

“scarlett?” logan roughly called out in a raised voice towards scott as he came over out of nowhere. scott rolling his eyes as he quickly picked y/n up, y/n being in scott’s arms as her eyes fluttered open to see logan to the side of them. scott’s jaw immediately clenching as he continued up the stairs without cracking a word to logan as he rushed after the pair. his own anger frustratingly high as he tried to control himself and stop himself from doing anything stupid.

“scott?” logan said harshly, his anger growing as he didn’t get an answer as he tried to get the man to look at him.

“lo-“ y/n slipped out, her voice muffled as she leaned into scott’s arms more as he carried her bridal style up the stairs. her realising his presence, logan’s eyes casting onto y/n and then back to scott. his eyes darkening.

“what have you done to her?!” logan rushed out, his voice cracking with worry as scott ignored his words as he made it to the top of the stairs and continued on down to where he’s pretty sure her room is.

“scott!” logan shouted again trying to get his attention as scott opened the door with his back, giving logan a harsh glare as he walked right over to the bed where he placed y/n down carefully on it. her drunken self pouring the cover over her figure as she rolled over in bed. letting out a little muffled whimper as her head laid on the pillow.

the second scott having let go off y/n he immediately turned to logan scott not giving logan another chance to talk before he connected his fist with his jaw, logan been taken aback a little as he raised an eyebrow, scott looking right at him as logan pushed him back harshly.

“what the fuck did you do?” logan cursed out quickly, scott scoffing as he held back taking his glasses off because of the fact it was a party, not logan’s funeral even despite how much he wanted it to be.

“you should ask yourself that, prick.” scott said harshly. logan’s eyebrows raising at his words as scott pushed himself past logan without another word.

logan immediately grabbing scott’s arm harshly, his claws aching to come out as he met his gaze.

“what do you mean by that?” logan said quickly, his eyes locked onto scott’s as so many questions flowed his brain. his thoughts enlaced with y/n and the worry he had for the girl as scott harshly brung his hand back to his side after shaking logan’s grip off — giving logan a stern look as he looked him up and down judgementally, “god, you are so stupid. you’d think being born in the 19th century would make you slightly smarter then a twenty nine year old.” scott scoffed out lowly, his words only angering logan more as he shoved scott against the wall.

his claws extending as he pressed them close to his throat — his threat there as scott swallowed.

“tell me.” he said harshly as scott couldn’t help a certain look cross his face. completely frustrated by logan, his heart aching for jean in this moment as he stared at what she had clearly picked over himself that enraging him yet also y/n and what she had just gone through herself. the heart ache something he could relate too and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. yet right now he would logan however.

“she saw you and jean you idiot. meaning i did too. meaning— fuck you.” scott said quickly as he clicked his visor getting the right aim, logan jumping back as scott lazered his chest. his beam going right through as a loud grunt escaped his lips as logan in immediate retaliation clawed scott in the side, scott pushing back the whimper threatening to leave his lips as logan as he got ready to take another shot at the man.

logan raising his eyebrow as the two stared eachother down, “i’ll heal,” logan rolled out his words only angering scott worse as he went to raise his glasses again as logan roughly placed his hand on his chest to stop him, his claws retracted back in.

“i wish you wouldn’t.” scott bit out harshly as logan scoffed at his words, keeping his anger limited as he rolled his eyes.

“jean only needed someone to talk too—“

“you mean fuck.” scott said out harshly, jean crossing logan’s mind as his jaw clenched his gaze darkening as he couldn’t bring himself to shake his head. not that he was thinking about scott’s feelings — right now his mind pondering on another.

scott saw how logan couldn’t even fight back with words — tutting as he pushed him back. logan’s hands falling to his side as the two didn’t break eye contact.

“you know we’re engaged.” scott spit out like venom, his words causing a look of surprise to wash over logan’s face as his mouth fell open, “well we were.” he added out.

“you were— what?” logan fumbled out, confusion written on his face as scott rolled his eyes at his reaction. not that he cared deep down, but it felt like he did right now.

“great.. she didn’t tell you. like she didn’t tell anyone,” he said lowly, “not that it makes it any better what you’ve done,” scott casted out as a few seconds finding passed as he tried to find the words which only come out anger filled, “she’s a caniving cheating bitch.” scott cursed out, logan not bringing himself to react to the words scott ushered about jean as he looked at scott.

logan was about to say something to scott when the sound of y/n’s soft little snores filled the room which made the tension even higher as scott and logan glared at eachother.

“maybe just think next time before you fuck someone else’s girl, again.” scott managed out as he pushed past logan to leave the room.

“i don’t think she’s your girl.” logan called back out before he left as scott’s jaw clenched at his words as he opened the door.

“not anymore. you can have her.” he said harshly as he paused as he knew he had to say something.

“—just think about how y/n feels, because i know hurts.” scott spoke lowly as he left without another word clearly implying a certain fact.

logans heart skipped a beat at his words as the door shut behind scott, his mind feeling as if it was in a war as the tension built in the room immediately. the air feeling thick as he swallowed his own spit not bringing himself to call something back to him as his words couldn’t even bring themselves to form right in his brain yet alone out loud.

his eyes dawned back onto the sleeping girl y/n laying there. looking so soft and innocent, completely sound asleep and his heart couldn’t help twang a little as he bit down on the inside of his cheek — many bustling thoughts cursing his brain as he wished he had never thought of them.

his mind lingering on the thought of jean and what just occurred within him and scott as he came down from the pain that was inflicted on him his chest rising rapidly to a more normal flow as he healed. as he focused his gaze on y/n as he furrowed his eyebrows over what scott had said, trying to wrap his brain around it.

logan’s eyes dawning on y/n. guilt seeping through him as he felt his heart gain that aching feeling y/n had been riddled with since the day she first realised she was in love with the man as he sat on the foot of the bed. his mind feeling melted as he placed his hand on her own his big, gruff and rough feeling hand taking the soft touch of her hand into his own grip. her hand being half if not less of his size as he soothed her. her touch being another level of comfort he didn’t recall experiencing since he was a young boy that feeling sending memories flooding through his brain he couldn’t focus on now.

feeling all the emotions boiling up he’d been fighting to push down as he looked down at her asleep body. what was all of this? she had been distant, almost rude and very cold and scott’s words were making that why question he had on his mind for the past two weeks clearer.

the implication of scott’s words hung in his mind as he looked at her. him eventually bringing himself over to the spare place next to her in the bed not wanting to leave her alone for the night too worried about how drunk she was and if anything could happen in the night.. or anyone else drunkily walking in. but he couldn’t help deep down in knowing that those were just excuses to stay within her presence. asleep or not.

carefully building a gap between the two of them as he laid down — no matter how strong the urge to hug her and comfort her was — as he let out a rough exhale as he closed his eyes.

only to open them three seconds later to look at her. his eyes not leaving her peacefully asleep body for the rest of the night.