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mermaidcashton · 4 years

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dance in the living room, love with an attitude

authors: claire (@mermaidcashton) & laura (@maluminspace) ship/AU: michael clifford/ashton irwin, roommates AU prompt: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.” wordcount: 10k+ warnings: swearing, implied & explicit sexual content a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - check out the masterlist linked to see everyone elses!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘only human’ by the jonas brothers dance in the living room, love with an attitude *** The music was probably turned up a little too loud, but it helped to drown out the nerves starting to bubble away in Michael’s tummy. ‘I hope ‘Ashton’ likes MCR’ he thought as he half-heartedly wiped down the kitchen counters with a damp cloth. He wanted the place to look mildly tidier than it usually did for his new flatmate. First impressions counted for a lot, as his mum had told him twice this week already.

Once the splashes of milk from this morning’s mishap with the cereal had been washed away along with the crumbs from last night’s dinner of peanut butter on toast, he stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall over in the living room area. It wasn’t quite midday, which meant he had a little over an hour until his new roommate was due to arrive. That should mean that he just about had enough time to vacuum the whole flat and take a shower. Throwing the dishcloth into the little cleaning basket on the window ledge, Michael focused on screaming the lyrics to ‘Thank you for Venom’ and tried not to focus too much on the anxiety about the rest of the day.

Agreeing to live with someone he’d never met in person probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas. It’s not like Michael had been given much choice, though. His last flatmate had given him less than a week’s notice when she decided to move in with her short-term girlfriend and left Michael with a whole bunch of bills that his meagre paycheck could never stretch far enough to cover. Luckily, his best friend Luke had a work colleague who desperately needed a new place to live since his landlord had slapped him with a very short notice period to move out of his current flat. Luke had offered to give this work friend Michael’s contact details and the following morning, Michael had woken up to a text from a guy called Ashton who was very interested in Michael’s recently vacant spare room.

After explaining the cost of rent and other bills in a few subsequent texts, Michael had received a very grateful reply from Ashton asking if it would be possible to move in that weekend. Of course the blonde had agreed, eager to get the awkward first meeting out of the way as soon as possible.

Determined to get his most hated chore done before he could start collecting his thoughts and mentally preparing for the arrival of his new flatmate, Michael grabbed the portable hoover from the charging port on the tiny bit of the kitchen wall that was not taken up by the counters and cabinets. He was just about to press the ‘ON’ button when a knock at the door put an abrupt halt to his plans.

Michael huffed as he made his way over to the front door. The only people that had the security code for the entrance of the building were his parents and Luke, neither of which were due to visit today. That left only someone who had the wrong flat, or one other possible visitor; his neighbour, Calum. They’d hang out sometimes, whenever their days off matched up. Their shared interest in certain obscure and rare computer games and a mutual love of sushi and beer made for hours of fun without the chore of actually having to leave the building. Michael had definitely made sure to let Calum know that he was expecting his new flatmate to arrive today, though, so he was a little confused as to why his neighbour would be dropping by now.

That feeling only intensified when a glance through the spy hole on his front door revealed that Calum was accompanied by a stranger. He opened the door cautiously, still feeling a little bewildered.

“Hey, mate.” Calum grinned, waving a handful of unopened letters in greeting. “Just found this guy outside with a bunch of boxes. I knew you were expecting your new flatmate today, so I helped bring his stuff up.” His dark brown eyes surveyed Michael with something like confusion from beneath the rim of his seemingly ever-present black bucket hat.

Michael could only imagine that his neighbour was mirroring his own befuddled expression because Ashton wasn’t due to arrive for another hour. He forced himself to look over at the stranger, whilst his mind worked over what was happening.

It appeared that Calum was right in assuming this was Ashton. He was indeed carrying a large cardboard box labelled ‘bedroom’ that would definitely suggest he was moving house. There were also a bunch of smaller boxes piled against the wall beside the front door which supported that assumption.

“Do you guys need any more help?” Calum offered, “I’m free if…”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Michael cut in quickly. “We can take it from here, thanks Cal.” The last thing Michael wanted was more people to see the apartment in its current state.

“No worries.” Calum smiled, “You know where I am if you change your mind.” He turned his attention to his little fluffy dog who had been patiently waiting for his post-walk nap. “C’mon Duke.”

Once Calum and his little fluff ball had wandered off across the hall towards their own apartment, Michael turned his attention back to Ashton. Three things struck him about his new flatmate in very quick succession;

Ashton was incredibly hot. His curly black hair hung loosely around his handsome face, framing his chiselled cheekbones and clean shaven, angular jaw beautifully. His hazel eyes were striking from behind the horn-rimmed glasses perched neatly on his perfectly ski-slope shaped nose.

He looked vaguely familiar. Michael knew that he’d seen Ashton’s face somewhere before but it wouldn’t quite click in his brain. Not that it would be entirely surprising if they’d met before, they did share a close friend after-all. It just seemed a little off that Luke hadn’t reminded Michael of the occasion they'd met at before suggesting they live together.

Despite his silence, Ashton looked somewhat annoyed, possibly bordering on angry. That struck Michael as odd. He had been known to piss people off fairly regularly but seeing as he’d barely even spoken to Ashton, this would be an all time record.

“So you must be Ashton…” Michael smiled, awkwardly tucking a strand of his messy blonde hair behind his ear whilst offering his free hand out for his new flatmate to shake. “I’m Michael, or you can call me Mike if you want. Most of my friends do.” Ashton didn’t accept the offer of a handshake, in fact he made no movement whatsoever. He simply glared at Michael with an increasing level of irritation. “Are you kidding me?”

Michael knew that he was not the prettiest of people. He dressed casually most of the time and due to Ashton’s early appearance, he’d not yet had a chance to shower and make himself a little more presentable. He didn’t think that he quite deserved such a cutting greeting, though. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you yet, I was just…”

“You don’t even remember me, do you?!” Ashton interrupted, his tone dripping of resentment now. “Fucking unbelievable!” Michael couldn’t remember ever feeling more confused in his life. Ashton hadn’t mentioned that they’d previously met in his text messages so why would he be so angry that Michael hadn’t immediately recognised him now?

The newcomer’s harsh tone had caught Calum’s attention, causing the neighbour to pause in sorting through his mail and stare unashamedly at the scene unfolding across the hall.

“This could only fucking happen to me…” Ashton huffed, adjusting his grip on the box in his arms. “I get turfed out of my flat because my landlord suddenly decides he wants it for his daughter and just when I think I’ve landed on my feet with a new place, my new fucking flatmate turns out to be a one night stand who doesn’t even remember me! Talk about kicking a guy when he’s down!”

Michael barely registered Calum’s audible gasp as realisation crashed around him. Suddenly the memory of the beautiful man that had swept Michael off his feet at a bar a few months back replayed in his head like a movie he’d seen once but hadn’t been able to remember the title of. He’d only known the guy as Ash and he’d assumed it was short for Ashley. Despite the fact that Ash’s hair had been a sexy shade of crimson, styled in a neat quiff and he hadn’t been wearing glasses, it was definitely the same guy that was standing in front of him right now.

“Ash…” the word escaped Michael almost of it’s own volition. “But I thought that was short for… oh my god, this can’t be happening.” He cupped his own face in his hands as the reality of the awkward situation began to settle into the very fibre of his being.

“Wow, you can’t make this shit up.” Calum gasped, an almost delighted smile on his face. “What’re you guys gonna do?”

Despite Calum’s annoying rubbernecking, it gave Michael the perfect excuse to look away from Ashton for a second. “Well I’m gonna throw something at you, if you don’t get lost right now, Calum.” He hissed.

“He’s not the one coming across like a shithead right now.” Ashton scoffed, setting the box in his arms onto the floor. “Being a nosey neighbour still makes you a hell of a better person than the guy that flatters their way into your bed and gives you amazing sex but then gives you a fake number!”

“That’s right.” Calum agreed. “People that do that are the worst. At least have the balls to tell the other person you’re not looking for anything long term before you disappear the next day.”

“Calum, I swear to god…” Michael hissed.

Ashton shook his head angrily. “He’s right, if you never wanted to see me again, you could have just said. I wouldn’t have wasted some of my best moves on you.”

“Oh, what were the moves?” Calum smirked, prying his way further into the conversation.

His neighbour’s blatant disregard for the seriousness of the situation was annoying to say the least. It was also the last thing Michael needed to deal with right now. “Piss off, Calum!”, he snapped.

Duke yapped disapprovingly at Michael, his tiny eyes focused on the blonde man as his human’s smirk grew even further across his face.

“Oh, you can shut up as well!” Michael snapped at the tiny pooch. “Now you’re yelling at a dog.” Ashton rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s a good thing you blew me off, looks like I had a lucky escape from dating an arsehole!” Michael really couldn’t envisage the situation getting any worse. At this rate he was going to be searching for another roommate instead of enjoying a pleasant lunch with this one, like he’d hoped.

“I didn’t give you a fake number!” Michael protested. “I swear, I’m not like that, and I really liked you! I broke my phone, the same weekend we...met.” He felt his cheeks begin to colour, trying his hardest to ignore Calum’s snort as he focused on Ashton’s disbelieving face.

“It took me two weeks to sort out a new one, I had a little pay as you go in between, I had a different number, and I-you did call, then?” Michael paused his blurted explanations to blurt out a question, instead. He had been wondering every time it was late and he was alone for 6 months whether or not he’d missed a call from the best one night stand of his life.

“Of course I did!” Ashton threw his hands up in exasperation, startling Duke and sending him scuttling back into the still-open doorway of the opposite flat. “I thought we had a connection, we said we wanted to see each other again; that doesn’t happen that often for me! Maybe it does for you…”

“Oh, it definitely doesn’t.” Calum smirked. “The only man who comes to see Michael regularly is the Domino’s delivery guy.”

Before Michael could blow up at him, Calum backed up properly into his flat, resting his hand on his front door. “It’s a shame, actually,” he continued, smiling encouragingly at his neighbour. “Michael is really a great guy. He always has time for me and Duke; whether it’s for beers, a listening ear, or belly rubs.”

He throws a wink to Ashton as he shuts his front door with a click. “I’ll leave you to figure out which one is for me. Welcome to the building!”

Michael knows he needs to gain control of the slightly-stunned silence left in Calum’s wake, fast. He needs to say something apologetic, or charming, or cool. “Do you like fish fingers?” Or that.

Ashton blinked a few times in quick succession, and Michael wanted to throw himself down the stairs.

“Do I like fish fingers?” Ashton repeated, pushing his long black hair back with both hands.

Michael flushed again, at least thankful for the fact that he no longer had an audience for the most embarrassing encounter of his life. “It’s just, I thought we could have lunch, and talk, and I’m not really much of a cook, but I have fish fingers, right, and everyone likes fish finger sandwiches...don’t they…” He trailed off, hoping Luke perhaps had another co-worker who needed immediate accommodation.

Ashton fixed him with the most intense stare he’d ever received in a conversation about freezer food, and Michael tried to match his unrelenting gaze in a way that would make him look less like he wanted to cry. Ashton’s eyes really were beautiful, seeming almost magnified by his glasses. He looked thoughtful and sad now, rather than judgmental and angry, and Michael would take that.

“I do.” Ashton decided on, after what felt like an eternity. He stooped down to pick up his box again, muscles tensing, and Michael’s mind began to wander.

He remembered Ashton’s arms looking just like that as he lifted him up for the last few feet of the journey to the redhead-at-the-time’s bed. Michael could almost feel his fingers digging into the bare skin of his thighs all over again. The memories of slow, wet, considered neck kisses being broken with teeth, and the delicious burn that started low and spread like wildfire as Ashton stretched him out like he was born to do it.

“Michael? After you?” Michael snapped out of his daze, dragging his eyes away from Ashton’s lips where they had landed at some point in his reminiscing. He stepped back so Ashton could enter the flat and set the box down by the sofa. “Yeah, great, come in, make yourself at home, I’ll get the rest of your boxes!” As soon as he was outside in the corridor, Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. ‘Okay, Clifford - you need to snap out of it. Relax and smooth things over so you two can live together.’ He told himself, as sternly as he could manage. ‘We need a roommate more than we need to get laid.’

‘That’s debatable.’ Another voice - which sounded more like Calum than himself - chimed in before Michael shook it off and picked up the stack of cardboard boxes cluttering up the corridor.

‘Okay, you can do this. Damage control. Just be normal. Go in and face this head on. You can do this.’ Michael murmured, running his tongue over his bitten lips as he took his first steps back to where Ashton was waiting.

He hip-checked the front door closed as he re-entered the flat, placing the boxes next to one Ashton had carried in, before straightening up to see Ashton sat on the sofa, looking both nervous and delicious.

“I…” Michael faltered under Ashton’s almost shy gaze, then caught sight of a slice of Ashton’s firm, hairy stomach from where his t-shirt was riding up slightly.

“I just need to go to the bathroom. Then we can...talk, and eat. Okay?” Michael forced what he hoped was a casual, winning smile, and then scuttled across to the bathroom the moment Ashton made a noise of agreement and nodded his head.

Michael clicked the lock shut and put the toilet lid down as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. He began tapping away with urgency as he took a seat on the toilet, pulling up his message thread with his best friend.

SOS!!!! 🚨

Luke!!!!

Where are you

LUKE FUCK HELP ME YOU DICK

With each message he sent, Michael could feel his panic beginning to swell back up in his chest. Finally, three dots began moving across the message to indicate Luke was writing. Help was on the way.

🥺🥺🥺 What’s up

Michael felt what he knew was an unjustified rage at Luke and his fucking emojis as he furiously typed a reply.

Oh nothing, I just had sex with my new roomate!!!

Michael jumped when his phone immediately started vibrating relentlessly, sliding his finger across the screen and holding it gingerly to his ear.

“Hello?” He whispered into the receiver.

“WHAT!!! What do you mean you’ve slept with him?! Ashton was due there at 12, and it’s now...12 minutes past 12! That’s INSANE, even for you! I cannot believe-”

“Luke!” Michael hissed through clenched teeth, turning on the cold tap on the sink before he spoke again. “Not today, idiot! Remember, months ago, when I broke my phone? That weekend, I hooked up with that guy I met at The Alchemist? Red hair, big arms, amazing mouth-”

“Yes, I remember! What’s that got to do with it?” Luke cut in.

“It was Ashton. I only knew him as Ash, remember? And obviously I never saw him again because I had no way to contact him after I broke my phone. But it’s him, Luke - he’s in my living room! In OUR living room! What am I gonna do?! I am freaking out!”

“Oh my God! You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Mike! You’ve had your new roommates dick in your mouth before he even moved in! Classic you.”

Michael could practically hear Luke’s eyeroll. “This is not classic me! Dick! Help me, Luke!”

“What do you want me to do, I can’t unfuck him for you!” Luke shot back. Michael let out an involuntary whimper and slumped further down on the toilet. He was so screwed.

***

Michael emerged from the bathroom, Luke’s advice ringing in his ears as he approached Ashton on the sofa. ‘He’s a really nice guy, Mike; just talk to him. Explain what happened after you hooked up, and say you hope you can put it behind you and be friends. I think he’ll be cool, honestly. Just try not to trip and land on his dick and you should be golden.’

He took one last deep breath as he sat down on the black leather beside his one-time lover.

“So, Ashton...I...listen, I’m sorry that I broke my phone and made you think I’d ghosted you. I’m just an idiot that dropped his phone outside Sainsbury’s. And I’m really sorry I didn’t recognise you straight away, I was just expecting someone I hadn’t, and your hair, and glasses, and-” Michael could feel himself starting to babble but he couldn’t stop himself; he was so desperate for Ashton to like him. He was trying not to think about why it was this important to him.

Ashton held his hand up to stop him with a small smile. “Michael, it’s okay.”

Michael stopped short in his unravelling with a look of surprise. “It is?”

Ashton’s smile grew wider. “Yeah. I was just a bit blindsided, and I was hurt at the time back then, you know? But you explained, you apologised, and you seem like a nice guy. Luke sure can’t talk you up enough, and I trust him. I have no reason not to believe this is gonna be all good.”

Michael blinked, unsure if this was too good to be true. “Yeah? So...we’re good? You’re gonna...stay?”

Ashton relaxed back into his seat, toeing his shoes off and under the coffee table. “If that’s okay with you, yeah. We’re both grown ups; we can keep it platonic and put the past behind us, right? Friends?”

Michael nodded, trying to hide the gulp in his throat. “Yeah, of course. Right. Great. Friends.” He could definitely do this.

***

He could definitely not do this.

It’d been a long one month, two weeks and three days of trying to convince himself that he didn’t want to be anything more than Ashton’s friend and roommate.

Some days, Michael thought it was possible to put those lingering feelings away and focus on their blossoming platonic relationship. After all, Ashton was everything most people could ever want in a flatmate. He was tidy, considerate, fairly quiet and respectful of personal boundaries. The slightly older man was also great company. Michael has had many pleasant conversations with him over breakfast and in the evenings before they went to bed.

As lovely as all of that was, Michael had started questioning if it was worth the growing ache in chest for more. Each new thing he learnt about Ashton made him more sure that he was probably the closest thing to the perfect man that Michael would ever know. It was a cruel twist of fate that had meant his one opportunity to have Ashton for himself had slipped through his fingers, quite literally. He cursed himself on a daily basis for that one clumsy moment when he’d fumbled pulling his old phone from his too-tight jeans outside the supermarket and had been forced to watch his only chance with Ashton sink into a muddy puddle.

Whatever higher powers existed had been even less kind to have that strong, gorgeous, well-hung man turn up on Michael’s doorstep months later, as his only hope of being able to keep the flat he’d grown to love.

Every day since then, seemed to have presented a new challenge or torture. First it was the tight t-shirts and vests Ashton wore more often than not. They accentuated every muscle of the raven-haired man’s torso and displayed his strong biceps in all their glory.

Then came the sleepy morning routine they’d subconsciously fallen into. Ashton would emerge from his room in nothing but his loose grey sweats and crooked glasses, his hair ruffled and his eyes heavily lidded, before joining Michael for a hasty breakfast which usually consisted of cereal or toast and mug of strong coffee. It was during these sluggish mornings when they’d started to bond over their mutual love of crime dramas and fantasy movies, among other things. That had naturally led to evening-long Criminal Minds marathons whole weekends debating whether the Lord of the Rings movies or the Harry Potter movies were the better adaptations of their original books. Those playful arguments had spilled over into text messages now, so Michael couldn’t even escape his torturous living situation when he went to work.

Despite all of that hardship, the most latest and arguably the toughest challenge Michael found himself facing, was Ashton’s morning yoga. At first, the older man had kept that part of his morning routine confined to his bedroom. For some reason or another, over the last week or so, Ashton had decided that the living area was a more suitable location for this activity.

If Michael thought that sleepy, shirtless morning Ashton was hot, then sleepy, shirtless morning Ashton doing the ‘downward dog’ was positively off the fucking scale. The way his large hands pressed into the yoga mat and the way his strong arms and legs tensed as he straightened his back and pushed his arse up into the air lingered in Michael’s mind all day. These images often flickered through his mind at night too, when he was alone in his bed with nothing but his hand for company.

Deciding that a little get together with some friends would help dispel some of the tension, Michael floats the idea of asking Calum and Luke over for a ‘lads night’. Ashton had agreed easily, being a generally social person, he’d seemed enthusiastic about the possibility of hosting a mini party.

A group message is created and it doesn’t take long to settle on the following Friday night for beer, snacks and a FIFA tournament.

Ashton seemed to have been looking forward to it, often mentioning how excited he was to get to know Calum better and asking Michael to help him decide between certain snacks to purchase for the occasion.

All in all, Michael was proud of himself for the idea, focusing on hosting a couple of friends had certainly given both him and Ashton something new to focus on.

It was only when Friday arrived that Michael started to doubt his plan. Watching Ashton arrange plates of snacks on the kitchen counter, with the cutest concentration face he’d ever seen, started to make Michael wish they were spending the evening alone instead. He quickly pushes the thought of his head, berating himself for thinking something so stupid. It’s not like anything could happen between them even if they were alone, they were roommates now, that’s where their relationship ends.

“So....” Ashton broke the silence enveloping the flat as he finished pouring a bag of cheesy Doritos into a bowl. “Did you finally solve the mystery of who was stealing people’s shit from your fridge at work?”

Michael was caught off guard by the question. He’d been watching Ashton so intently that he momentarily forgot about everything else. It took him a moment to remember that he’d been keeping Ashton up to date with the ongoing lunch burglar drama at the DIY store he worked at. “Oh, umm no, not yet! But Brenda finally told Linda to stick her fake friendship where the sun doesn’t shine.”

A genuinely delighted smile burst into Ashton’s face as he headed into the living room area. “Good for her! Linda sounds like a bitch…”

It really meant a lot to Michael that Ashton took such an interest in his work life. The fact that he cared so much about people he didn’t know, but was aware they meant a lot to Michael, was also heartwarming.

Before Michael could go into more detail about the break time drama, a knock at the front door interrupted him. “Oh yay! Our first guest!” Ashton beamed, jogging off towards the front door to greet Calum.

***

As soon as the beer and wine had started flowing, Michael’s ever-present pining for Ashton dulled to an almost non existent haze at the edges of his mind. Sure, his knees felt weak every time Ashton flashes him that dopey smile of his and he might have blushed whenever their knees touched as they competed against each other in a thrilling game of virtual soccer.

That was all better than his usual all-consuming lust, so Michael was somewhat proud of himself. He even managed to surprise the urge to let Ashton win their game, and was almost smug when his player sent the football flying past Ashton’s keeper to secure a 2-1 win.

“Motherfucker!” Ashton grumbled, throwing his control pad into the sofa as he fixed Michael with look that was almost definitely the hottest gaze he’d ever been caught under. “I’m gonna get you for that, Clifford.” It sounded like a promise that held more weight than the simple challenge to a rematch it was probably meant to be.

Michael had to fight back a whimper, staring into Ashton’s beautiful hazel eyes this closely was too much. The intensity of it all rendered him momentarily speechless and he was all-too glad when Ashton got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

“I need to drown my sorrows.” The black-haired man laughed, breaking the tension that had descended on them before heading off to the kitchen. Ignoring the knowing looks from his two friends, Michael picked up Ashton’s discarded controller and tossed it to Luke. “Your turn to face me, Hemmings. Let’s see if I can beat my all time record of beating you 6-1”

“Fuck off! You have never beat me that badly.” Luke huffed, picking up the control pad that had just landed in his lap. “I’m gonna enjoy kicking your ass in front of your new boy-“

“Shit, we’re out of beers already!” Ashton’s interruption came at exactly the right moment in Michael’s opinion. He really hadn’t wanted Luke to finish that sentence and now he wouldn’t get the chance.

“I’ll go to the shop for some more, does anyone have specific requests?” The eldest friend asked as he traipsed back into the living room area.

“Oh you don’t have to go!” Michael shrugged, “you should stay here, we’ll send Luke instead, he sucks at this game anyway.”

Luke scoffed, waving his hand defensively. “You’re not getting out of playing me that easily!”

Ashton laughed, his eyes sparkling as he checked that his wallet was still in his jeans pocket. “It’s fine. I’m already out of the competition and I wouldn’t want to give anyone else an unfair advantage.”

Maybe it was just the effects of the beers he’d already drank, but Michael could have sworn that Ashton’s gaze lingered on him a little longer than it probably should have. “You’re too nice.” The blonde beamed fondly, “I’ll transfer you my half of the money in the morning, unless you wanna take a tenner from my room?”

“Oh is that an open invitation?” Calum asked, a lazy smile curling the corners of his lips. “You owe me at least that from when we bet on whether or not Luke could drink that tzatziki sauce last time.”

“Fuck off, Calum! I don’t owe you a penny, I won that bet, Luke’s a fucking wuss…”

“Hey! I am not!” Luke interrupted incredulously.

“Okay, I need to hear that whole story when I get back!” Ashton giggled. “I’ll just grab a case of whatever beer is the cheapest though, yeah.”

There was a general murder of agreement before Ashton headed out of the front door. Michael fond him watching until Ashton had disappeared into the hallway, swinging the front door closed behind him. “He’s so nice…” The blonde sighed dreamily, still gazing at the closed front door. “Don’t you think he’s just the best?”

Calum and Luke exchanged a ‘is he for real’ glance before silently agreeing that this was the perfect opportunity to tease Michael about his blatant love for Ashton.

“Yeah, he’s pretty special.” Calum agreed, smirking slyly. “You really can’t sing his praises highly enough, can you?”

Shaking his head, Michael finally returned his attention to the TV. “You really can’t, he’s just so kind and sweet.”

Calum nodded in agreement. “Not bad to look at either!”

“Right?!” Michael giggled, oblivious to the fact that his tipsiness was making his lips too loose.

“Hey Mike.” Luke cut in, reaching over to nudge his friend’s shoulder. “How’s being in love with your flatmate working out for you?” His conversational tone was entirely at odds with mischief in his eyes. It confused Michael but the youngest friend’s words were altogether too bold, a blatant overstep if ever there was one.

Despite his inner rage at being called out like this, Michael fumbled, unable to cobble together an appropriate response. “Ugh, I don’t even… You’re so far-“

“There’s no point denying it anymore.” Calum chuckled, “I can feel the sexual tension between you two from across the hall!”

“God, I bet it’s like watching a car crash, isn’t it?” Luke asked, picking up the bowl of M&M’s on the coffee table. “It’s horrific but you can’t tear your eyes away? Am I right?”

Calum nodded. “It’s like watching a bad fucking soap opera.”

Michael felt offended and embarrassed but still no words seemed to form coherently in his mouth.

“At least it’s a bit less tragic now we can be sure it’s not entirely one sided!” Luke stage whispered with a calculating look on his face as he met Calum’s gaze.

“Yeah, it’s mildly less irritating!” Calum laughed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Michael sputtered. “Ash and I agreed that our one night stand is ancient history, we’re not-“

“Oh puh-lease!” Calum scoffed. “If you two haven’t fucked again by the end of this month I’ll eat my bucket hat.”

***

Ashton had returned with a case of twenty four bottles of beer and as a result, lad’s night had ended up running into the early hours of Saturday morning.

Having drank his way through more than his fair share of that case, Michael didn’t end up rising from his pit until noon had long since been and gone.

“Ah you are still alive!” Ashton chuckled, tearing his attention away from the TV to look at his flatmate.

This was definitely not fucking fair. Michael didn’t need to look in a mirror to know that he looked exactly as he felt - rough as all hell. Ashton on the other hand, still looked as dreamy as ever. His black curls, although slightly ruffled and fluffy, were still on the stylish side of messy and he’d somehow found the motivation to get dressed, too, something Michael wasn’t even contemplating.

“I’m glad you’re up now, though, I wondered if you had anything planned for dinner?” Ashton asked, peering at Michael from behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

The thought of food made Michael’s stomach lurch unpleasantly and he had to fight to hold back a wretch.

Ashton gives a sympathetic giggle before pausing his show and rising to his feet. “I’ll take that as a no. Don’t worry, buddy. I have a plan but first…” he jogged over to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. “Why don't you go and take a shower while I make you a tea? You’ll feel better after that and then we will talk dinner!”

As Michael plods over to the bathroom, he shoots one last look over at Ashton, busily preparing mugs on the countertop and tries his absolute hardest to remember a time that he wasn’t in love with his flatmate.

***

As always, Ashton was proven to be 100% correct.

Michael felt a million times better once he was showered and snuggled on the sofa with a mug of steaming tea.

“You look a little more alive now.” Ashton smirked, sparing Michael a sideways glance before returning his attention to ‘Law and Order’. “Do you think you can handle talking about dinner yet?”

The ache in Michael’s stomach felt a lot more like hunger than it had done when he first woke up and the thought of food didn’t make him feel like throwing up anymore so he nodded. “What’re your plans, chef?”

Ashton’s cheeks turned a rosy pink as he shrugged. “I couldn’t bear to see you try to cobble together another freezer meal so I thought you might like me to teach you a simple pasta dish?” He suggested, his tone a little shy like he was worried what Michael’s reaction would be. “I’ll do most of the work, but I thought if you helped out, you’ll learn how to make something other than Super Noodles.”

Michael couldn’t even be mad at the subtle dig at his cooking skills. He was terrible in the kitchen and it was just a little embarrassing that Ashton had noticed just how dyer his cooking skills were. “When you say simple, do you mean like a recipe and technique you can write on the back of a postage stamp because that’s about the level of my skill.”

Rolling his eyes, Ashton casually threw his arm around Michael’s shoulders. “Don't be so hard in yourself, buddy! I once taught Luke how to make scrambled eggs on the stove so he didn’t have to be a savage and use the microwave anymore, so there’s definitely hole for you, I promise.”

Michael tried to focus on the hat Ashton was saying but all that his slow, hungover brain could process was that he was pressed against his stupidly gorgeous flat mate’s side. The heady smell of Ashton’s minty body wash and the soft scent of his fabric conditioner felt intoxicating and Michael could do nothing besides allow his head to drop into Ashton’s shoulder.

To the blonde’s surprise, Ashton shuffle away or call him out on it. He simply rests his own head on Michael’s and laughs. “We’ll make a chef of you yet, Clifford.” He promised.

***

They spent a good three hours, watching reruns of C.S.I and making plans to start a Marvel movie marathon after dinner. They sat close to each other the whole time and Michael noticed Ashton watching him from the corner of his eye on at least three separate occasions.

By the time Ashton suggested they start making dinner, Michael had gone over his conversation with Calum and Luke the previous night, about sixty times. His two best friends had convinced him that Ashton wanted Michael just as much as Michael wanted Ashton.

“The way he looks at you, dude.” Calum laughed. “He’s practically imagining you naked at any given moment. It’s getting uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Michael reprimanded. “He doesn’t think of me like that anymore. We had a one night thing months ago. That’s it. Nothing else will ever happen between us again, we’re just flatmates.”

Calum and Luke exchanged a sceptical glance before bursting into laughter.

“Yeah right!” Luke huffed sarcastically. “Do you know how many times I hear your name come out of his mouth at work these days?”

Michael’s cheeks reddened. He had no idea that Ashton talked about him at work. It felt kind of surreal to imagine his roommate relaying snippets of their home life to Luke.

“Let me guess!” Calum interrupted. “About a thousand…”

Nodding, Luke drained the last of his beer. “Yeah and that’s just before lunch!”

“Honestly, if they don’t bang soon I’m gonna knock their heads together.” Calum sighed. “Did you know Michael comes over to my place most mornings so he doesn’t have to watch Ashton do topless yoga?” He asked Luke disbelievingly. “I want my lie-in’s back!”

At the time, Michael hadn’t believed his friends. He didn’t think that there was even a remote possibility that Ashton still carried a torch for him. But in the clear light of day, Michael couldn’t deny that all the signs were there… perhaps there could be more between them after all.

He followed Ashton into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his grey oversized sweater, trying to clear his mind enough to be able to process learning a new skill.

“Okay, this is like the simplest recipe I know but it’s delicious and tastes so much better than the freezer junk you usually make for yourself.” Ashton rambles as he grabs a saucepan and a frying pan from the shelf near the cooker.

“Hey, freezer junk has been my lifeline on many occasions, I’d probably be dead without it.” Michael scoffed, only half joking.

Ashton rolled his eyes fondly, handing Michael the saucepan. “Fill this with water for me and then put it on the back hob, while it’s boiling I’ll teach you how to make the sauce.”

As Michael carried out his instructions, he couldn’t help but admire the concentration on Ashton’s face when he began rifling through the fridge and cupboard, pulling out various ingredients.

Once the pan of water was safely on the job Ashton had indicated, Michael returned his full attention to the slightly older man.

“Right, the first thing we do for the sauce is put 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil into this cold pan.” Ashton explained, pushing his glasses up his nose a little, reminding Michael of a hot English teacher or something… fuck, it was already difficult enough for Michael to concentrate without random fantasies about Ashton fucking him over a desk running through his mind. “Usually I’d never add oil to a cold pan, but for this particular recipe, it works because if the pan was already hot, the first ingredients would burn before the rest was in there.”

There was something about the way Ashton talked with such passion and confidence that made Michael wish he was confident enough to just drag him to the bedroom, his need for more from Ashton becoming unbearable. He forced himself to nod, pretending like he understood when really, Ashton could be telling him absolutely anything right now, and Michael would not know the difference because all he can think about is the way Ashton had groaned at the feeling of Michael’s nails running down his back and how he’d growled Michael’s name as he neared his climax.

“Can you pass me the basil?” Ashton asked, pulling Michael out of his memory.

The blonde surveyed the ingredients on the countertop. Luckily he recognised most of them, so he picked up the basil by process of elimination and handed it to Ashton like a dutiful sous chef.

Ashton looked mildly impressed as he took the bag of basil and took out handful. “We want about ten or so decent sized leaves and we tear them in half before adding them to the oil, okay?” He waited for Michael’s nod of understanding before tearing the leaves in his hand and dropping them into the pan.

“Then we need to chop 6-8 cloves of garlic directly into the pan.” Michael looked back at the little stack of ingredients and frowned, noticing an instant problem. “We only have one clove of garlic…” he pointed out, biting his bottom lip worriedly.

Ashton burst out laughing as he picked the garlic up from the counter. “This is a whole bulb, babe…” he explained, apparently not even noticing his use of the supposedly accidental pet name.

It was difficult for Michael to feel too offended by Ashton’s laughter when he’d just called him babe, though, so he let it go, focusing on the term of endearment, no matter how accidental it might have been, rather than the humour at his dumb mistake.

“It’s the smaller, wedge shaped pieces that are cloves, please don’t mix that up if you make this without my help.” Ashton chuckled, breaking six cloves from the bulb and picking up a tiny knife he’d laid out next to the oven.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Michael pouted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”

Ashton gave him a fond smile. “You’re not alone in that, I promise…”

It was hard not to feel comforted by Ashton’s lopsided smile, so most of his embarrassment slipped away fairly quickly.

“I just chop off the little hard parts at the bottom of each clove and peel the skin off before chopping it directly into the pan. Don’t chop it on a board or you’ll lose some of the flavour.” Ashton explained carefully.

Michael watched with interest as Ashton demonstrated his technique with the first two cloves. He handed the third to Michael along with the knife and gestures for him to add it to the pan.

It took him probably three times longer to chop that one clove into the pan, than it took Ashton to do the first two, but he was encouraging and patient. The older man praised Michael for completing the tiny task, seeming genuinely impressed.

Once all six cloves of garlic had been added to the pan, Ashton turned on the hob into a medium heat. “Okay, so we stir this together for about five minutes. Can you do that while I open the tin of tomatoes?”

Michael nodded, picking up the wooden spoon from the counter and storing the simmering ingredients together. It already kinda smelt like his favourite Italian restaurant and his tummy grumbled impatiently.

“One thing I should specify is, you need to use tins of whole tomatoes, not chopped.” Ashton explained as he poured the first tin of tomatoes into the sizzling pan. “Can you pour in the second one?”

Michael did as he was told and watched as Ashton squished the whole tomatoes down and stored them into the red eat of the ingredients.

“Mmm it smells so good.” Michael sighed, breathing in the delicious smells.

Ashton looked proud of himself as he offered a smile. “Can you take over the stirring while I add the salt?”

Michael took the spoon from Ashton, ensuring that their fingers brushed.

There was a moment of eye contact and a silent shifting of tension between the two of them. If ever there was a time to bite the bullet and kiss Ashton, now would be it. His nerves failed him though and he dropped his gaze to the simmering pan.

Instead of moving around Michael to pick up the salt as he’d done for the tomatoes, Ashton simply reached past the blonde, pushing him against the counter momentarily before he pulled back to add the salt to the pan.

If Michael had been fully alert, he’d have recognised that for the flirtatious move it was meant to be, as it was, he put it down to a simple lack of judgement on Ashton’s part and continued to concentrate on stirring the sauce.

***

The tomato pasta tasted as good as it had smelt. It turned out to be exactly what Michael’s hungover body had needed.

He and Ashton had eaten it at their little table in the kitchen. Conversation had flowed freely as always, skirting around flirtatious at times but never quite enough for Michael to pluck up the courage to take things further.

“The only thing that would have made that better would have been a nice glass of white wine, but I thought you were still a bit too delicate for that.” Ashton giggled as he picked up the empty plates from the table and carried them over to the kitchen sink.

“Hey, you drank as much as I did!” Michael pouted, picking up the empty glasses and following Ashton to the sink. “How’re you not hungover.”

Ashton chuckled as he ran the water into the washing up bowl. “You’re just a lightweight, Mikey.”

It wasn’t the first time Michael had been called that so it didn’t take him by surprise. He laughed it off as he grabbed a tea cloth ready to dry the dishes that Ashton washed. “One day you’ll stop teasing me, Irwin.”

Ashton shook his head. “Don’t count on it, babe… you’re too easy to make fun of, that’s not my fault.”

There it was again, that little slip, a fond nickname that roommates probably shouldn’t have for one another.

Quickly pulling himself together, Michael nudged his flatmate in the arm, just hard enough to pull a surprised “oof” from him.

“Careful now.” Ashton warned jokingly. “You don’t want to start a scuffle you can’t finish, Clifford.”

Michael threw caution to the wind and nudged Ashton again, deliberately keeping his gaze on the plate he was drying.

“That’s it!” Ashton huffed, scooping up a handful of bubbles and swiping them across Michael’s face.

The blonde spluttered and shook his damp fringe out of his face before fixing Ashton with a glare. A few acts of retaliation flashed through his mind. He could have whipped Ashton with the tea cloth or splashed him with dishwater but none of that happened.

There was something about the way Ashton’s eyes were sparkling, almost like he was daring Michael to do the thing he’d been too scared to do this whole time. He refused to let another opportunity pass like before when they were making the pasta sauce. Michael tried not to overthink as he stepped forward and cupped Ashton’s face with one hand before leaning in and kissing him.

The raven-haired man’s lips felt every bit as soft as they had done on that night seven months ago. Ashton didn’t kiss back with the same hunger and desperation that he had done back then, though.

Michael stepped back, feeling his cheeks heat up in an embarrassed blush. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Ash…”

Ashton bit his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at Michael intently. “No…” He said, finally breaking his silence. “You just shouldn’t have waited so long.”

The older man’s words had barely penetrated Michael’s brain before he was being pressed against the counter behind him. Ashton’s lips were on his again but this time they were working just like they had been that night at Ashton’s old place.

The intense kiss pulled a whine from Michael and he automatically wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck.

It started as a fairly simple kiss but it quickly began to build momentum. It was the crack in the dam holding back all of their emotions for all this time.

“Ashton…” Michael gasped as they pulled apart for air. “I know we said we should just be friends but…”

“Fuck being just friends.” Ashton mumbled as he worked kisses down Michael's neck. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

Those words were all Michael needed to hear in order to relax into this. “I can’t tell you how bad I’ve wanted this.” He whispered.

Ashton slipped one of his thighs between Michael’s as he nipped at the blonde’s neck. “I think I have some idea.” He groaned. “I never stopped thinking of the way you moaned my name that night, Michael.” The older man confessed, pulling back just enough to look Michael in the eye. “Wanted it again since the moment I walked in here.”

The way Ashton was looking at him like he wanted to devour every inch of Michael, had the blonde melting. “Me too.” He crashed his lips against Ashton’s in another desperate kiss as he subconsciously rutted against the older man’s thigh. After the months Michael had spent feeling kind of lonely and touch-starved, the tiny amount of friction was enough to have him whimpering against Ashton’s lips.

“Uh, you sound and taste even better than I remember.” Ashton muttered, pressing his thigh harder against Michael’s crotch to pull another little gasp from him.

“Ashton! Fuck, please, I…” Michael’s head tipped back as he lost his fight to regain any sort of control over his own body. He was in Ashton’s control now, and Ashton knew it.

“Come on…” Ashton coaxed, stepping back from Michael as he took both of his hands in his to pull him away from the kitchen counter. Michael whined high in his throat as he easily followed where Ashton led.

Michael had hardly been into Ashton’s bedroom since he had helped him move some furniture the day he moved in; it had almost felt too intimate to go into Ashton’s personal space given the history between them. Seeing it now, cozy and dark with slithers of light coming through the window from the lamp posts outside, gave Michael a chill; it felt like Ashton was sharing a secret with him.

He followed Ashton’s lead dutifully all the way to the bed, accepting the deep kiss Ashton offered him as a reward, before the older man peeled his oversized sweater from his torso, breaking away to pull it over Michael’s head. Michael wanted more contact, but was disappointed when Ashton gently but decisively laid him down among the crisp sheets, instead.

Ashton pulled his own t-shirt over his head in one fluid motion and flicked the lamp on his bedside table on, bathing the bed in a warm glow that made Michael feel like he was in a dream.

Michael gazed in wonder at Ashton as he climbed into bed beside him, letting his eyes travel all over his arms and chest, taking in the extra tone and definition in his body since the last time he’d been able to stare at him like this; clearly, the yoga was doing more than just allowing Ashton to ‘find his centre’.

He didn’t think he was anything special to look at, but he could see Ashton mirroring his own actions, eyes full of lust searching all over the parts of Michael’s body he could see, and even his gaze lingering on a part he couldn’t.

“Ash,” Michael breathed out, surprising himself with how far gone he sounded already. “Take ‘em off, I wanna…” He trailed off as Ashton’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, holding eye contact for only a moment before he nodded almost imperceptibly, shuffling down the bed and taking hold of the waistband of Michael’s sweatpants. He returned his gaze to the pale man before him, biting his own lip as he allowed his fingertips to graze the skin of Michael’s hips. “These too?” Ashton questioned in a low voice as he brushed the fabric of Michael’s underwear.

“Oh God, yeah”, Michael answered, squirming slightly from the infuriatingly gentle feel of Ashton’s touch. Ashton didn’t need to be told twice. Michael shivered with the feeling of being suddenly completely exposed as his sweatpants and underwear hit the carpet. Michael looked up at Ashton through his lashes, braced up on his knees in his black, ripped jeans. “You’d better be planning on losing those in the next second, Irwin.”

Ashton smirked as he undid his jeans. “And I mean your underwear, too!” Michael amended hastily, hungry to see if his memory of Ashton’s body was accurate.

The dark-haired man’s smirk grew wider at Michael’s clarification, pulling his zip down and allowing his jeans to fall open, exposing only bare skin beneath. “Underwear?”

Michael’s jaw dropped a little, prompting a deliciously filthy laugh from his roommate. “For the record, roomie - I don’t wear underwear.” Ashton winked as he yanked his jeans down as far as he could in his current position, before wriggling around to pull them off completely. Michael was pleased to see that, if anything, his memory had been selling Ashton short. Blame it on the alcohol.

Michael didn’t know how to decide on what to do first; on one hand, he wanted to kiss Ashton non-stop for the rest of eternity, but on the other hand, if he didn’t get filled up in the next 10 minutes, he was definitely going to throw a tantrum. Luckily, he realised, it probably wasn’t up to him. All of his experience with Ashton so far told him that the older man would definitely be taking the lead, and this was definitely not a problem for Michael. Indeed, it had worked out very well for him last time, when his staff night out started at the bar and ended with Ashton eating him out like his life depended on it.

“What are you thinking?” Ashton’s sultry voice broke through his thoughts, apparently wanting a coherent answer despite the fact that he had just begun to run his fingers up and down Michael’s sensitive, pale inner thighs. Michael let out a shuddery breath as he tried to use his words to tell Ashton he wanted anything and everything possible between them, right there and then. Perhaps the way his cock twitched when Ashton let one his nails run over a faded stretch mark right at the base of one of his thighs would speak for itself.

“Maybe we should get right to, huh, gorgeous?” Ashton teased, withdrawing his touches to lean towards his bedside table. He pulled open the top drawer, fumbling only for a moment until he found what he was looking for. The lube and condom were dropped carelessly onto the mattress as he shut the drawer again, returning his attention to the man almost-beneath him immediately. “We’ve got plenty of time for all the other goods stuff; right now, I need to fuck you, and I know you need me to fuck you...don’t you?”

Michael wondered at what point in his life he had begun to communicate exclusively in whines, but Ashton seemed to be into it, so it didn’t matter. Michael watched impatiently as Ashton popped the top on the half-empty bottle of lube, wasting no time in squirting a generous amount onto two fingers on his right hand and pulling Michael’s leg fully around his hip with his left.

Michael’s heart jumped as much as his cock when Ashton breathed gently on the lube coating his fingers in an attempt to warm it slightly before he brought them straight down to Michael’s bare hole, rubbing over it in a firm circle.

Michael was glad he didn’t have the problem of not wanting his roommate to hear him getting fucked, anymore, as he let out his loudest, neediest whine yet. Ashton proved he had meant what he said about not taking their time with their second tryst, sinking his index finger inside Michael in one fluid motion. Before Michael had got to 10, Ashton was opening him up at a steady, delicious pace and was driving Michael crazy in record time.

Michael wouldn’t claim to be a pornstar or anything, but he didn’t normally have a problem with stamina. If Ashton kept it up like this, though, Michael was in danger of coming before Ashton’s thick cock got any closer to him, and that was unacceptable.

“Ash, please, I can’t...I want, ne-your cock, please!” Michael cried out as Ashton probed his spot one last time before immediately acquiescing to Michael’s begging. Michael wriggled at the loss of Ashton’s fingers, but took comfort in the fact that Ashton was already tearing the condom packet open.

Michael watched in awe-tinged anticipation as Ashton gave himself a couple of loose tugs once he had the condom on, before closing in on his lover once more, making sure Michael was laid comfortably on the pillows as he positioned himself over him. Michael clung to Ashton’s shoulders as he lined himself up, just resting the tip on Michael’s slick hole for a moment.

Ashton’s hazel eyes bore down into Michael’s green ones with a soft fire as he raised one hand to brush Michael’s fringe out of his flushed face. Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as Ashton pushed in - slowly, but all the way.. He felt like he was sinking and floating simultaneously, and wrapped his arms around Ashton’s neck to anchor himself here, with him, in this moment.

Ashton pressed his face deep into Michael’s neck, kissing and sucking his way up towards Michael’s ear. “You good?” He murmured, shifting his hips a miniscule amount. “Yeah,” Michael breathed, “S’good, please…”.

With a final nip to Michael’s neck, Ashton pulled back slightly and began to move his hips properly, his cock sliding halfway out each time as he began to build a steady rhythm for them. Michael felt that perhaps in their sexual relationship so far, he was earning himself the reputation of a bit of a Pillow Princess, and so he began to move his own hips to meet Ashton’s building thrusts. Ashton groaned, long and loud, at the heightened sensations Michael’s movements brought, and they began to work together towards their goal.

Suddenly, Ashton’s mouth was crowding his, his tongue sliding into his mouth in a glorious kiss that Michael never wanted to end. He couldn’t tell if it had been 10 minutes or 10 hours when he felt that familiar feeling begin to bubble in the lower stomach. Ashton had begun to up the pace of his thrusts, his hips occasionally stuttering as groans rumbled low in his throat, so Michael knew they were on the same page.

“Ash,” He murmured in the millisecond between kisses. “Touch me, please, I’m getting so-” Michael broke off into a moan as Ashton was already wrapping a firm hand around his neglected cock, stroking it with determination and flicking his thumb over Michael’s dripping head. “You close, baby?” He murmured, eyes drifting over Michael’s face and the arousal present there. Michael was starting to writhe slightly and his head was flopping to the side on the pillow, but Ashton wanted his attention. With his free hand, he took Michael’s chin and turned his head to meet Ashton’s stare. The moment Michael was forced to meet his strong, heated gaze, his hazel eyes boring down on him with such intensity, Michael felt the kick of heat and it was all over. He cried out Ashton’s name and let out a series of curses and moans as he came, hard and hot over Ashton’s hand and their sweaty stomachs in equal measure.

Michael hadn’t finished himself before he felt Ashton taken by surprise, as well; his hips shooting forward to fill him to the hilt for the last time as he spilt into the condom, releasing Michael’s chin to brace himself through his orgasm on the pillows. “Michael, fuck!”

Michael regained enough control to watch Ashton’s face through hooded eyes as he came, moaning and unrestrained as he finished. He thought he looked heavenly.

As they both fought to catch their breath, Ashton pulled out gingerly, releasing Michael from his grip as he moved away to remove and dispose of the condom. Michael wriggled in place, trying to get comfortable to recover from what he hoped would be the first of many. Ashton came back from the bin in the corner and flopped back down, alongside Michael now, lifting his arm to allow Michael to snuggle in under it when he wrapped it around him. “So…” He said, sounding casual as you like. “About the whole platonic, friendly, roommate thing…”

masterlist for the 5sos ficwriters collab • my masterlist

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

Lambs In Danger - Bragi x Reader

I’ve had this chapter in my pocket for a while now so I think I’m just gonna post it. Still not sure where this series is going, but as mentioned in previous chapters, I’m just having fun with Smarmy Fluffcoat.

~~~~~

“I’m back,” the red-head calls, jingling the bell as he enters the store.

“Welcome back,” I call before addressing the customer. “Sorry about that. Here’s your book.”

The patron is bid goodbye just as my boyfriend sidles up to the counter. “Hey there gorgeous,” he hums with that signature smirk. “How’s your day been?”

“Just fine,” I reply, walking around to re-shelve a few misplaced books. “There’ve been a few customers but it’s been mostly quiet so I’ve been practicing my spatial magic.”

“Yeah? You should just about be an expert by now.”

The drama in my sigh cannot be expressed enough. “I don’t know why I picked spatial magic to be my specialty. The texts are near impossible to find and all of the experts refuse to take an apprentice.”

“Guess I should count my lucky stars there,” he teases, only receiving an eye roll. “Oh come on. You don’t need a master. You’re already a Master Mage and you’ve gotten this far on your own. The pocket dimensions are pretty cool and just last week you shoved me down the stairs from across the room.”

The incident still haunts me: the smarmy bastard had poked the bear just one too many times and a hand waved at him without a thought. “Please stop bringing that up. I said I was sorry.”

If that expression is any indication of his intentions, it’s not going to stop any time soon. “Yeah, but you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“Ugh…”

The chuckles of Smarmy Fluffcoat still play with my guts every time; there’s no doubt I’m still madly in love with him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t push buttons.

“Anyway, Master Odin wants to meet with you.”

I look back at the boy. “What does he want me for?”

Shoulders bounce. “I ‘unno. He just asked me to tell you.”

“I swear to the gods, if he tells me you’re causing trouble in class, you’re going to be grounded,” I laugh, final book in its place.

Warm hands capture my face, calloused thumbs brushing over the skin as the perpetrator leans in. The amber in his eyes glow with that sultry mischief he enjoys trapping me with. “Me? Cause trouble? Never.”

“Says the guy who shoved his classmate into my bag.”

“Shh. No one needs to know about that.” His voice drops to a whisper. He’s baiting me; he’s absolutely trying to bait me—and he’ll probably catch a bite.

“I know. You’re entire class knows.” Tongue following the conversation, my thoughts are one hundred percent focused on his lips only a miniscule movement away.

“Shh.”

Needless to say, kisses take over communication as I fall victim to the cinnamon-scented bait.

~~~~~

The next morning is spent wondering just when is the best time to venture to the citadel; worries of what the master would need me for consume the following afternoon. Come two o’clock, the shop closes down early and I wander my way through town.

Droves of students pass by me—all on their way to various after-school activities. It’s on my climb towards the faculty offices that I hear my name. Familiar faces all await me at the top.

“Hey guys,” I greet.

“Hey! What’s up!” the blonde waves back.

“What are you doing here?” asks the second girl.

A simple laugh is offered. “Turns out I’ve been summoned. I think Bragi is in trouble.” There’s a glare at my quip.

A head of silver hair tilts. “The Master summoned you?” I nod. “Ooo, Bragi’s in trouble!”

“Does everyone remember the bag incident?” our victim asks, gesturing towards the satchel at my hip. There are murmurs of agreement.

“I told you they knew.”

“I know they know—it was a threat.”

Replies vary from offence to taunts until I’m forced to intervene, dragging my boyfriend away while he waves his middle fingers at Urd and Xehanort. There’s some apologizing and chastising as we go until we reach Master Odin’s office.

“Want me to go with you?” Bragi offers.

Knuckles rap against the door. “I’ll be alright. I don’t know how long this will take so I’ll just meet you at the shop later.”

“You sure?”

I can hear the resident beckon me inside. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

A brief kiss on the cheek bids me goodbye and we part ways. This is when I learn of the reason Master Odin summoned me—it’s kind of upsetting. I question his decision in choosing me, barely holding my tongue long enough to reword the derision bubbling in my brain. None of this sits well with me; the Master seems to understand that and implores me to accept. Seeing as thing could be disastrous if I don’t, I do.

The agitation rolls in my chest as I descend the steps. What the hell are they thinking?! It doesn’t matter if I’m a Master Mage! They-

“Yo, babe, you in there?” Out of reaction, I slap away the hand in front of my face. My thoughts had taken over, leaving my body to autopilot out to the castle grounds.

Hermod—ever the big brother—leans closer. “You okay? You looked upset?”

Eyes scan across the young faces before me. Their light to be put at so much risk stokes the fire boiling my blood. As the ‘master’ in a professional situation among these kids, I wipe the surface clear of turbulence.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about a book order I need to work on.” My decision is just as terrible as Master Odin’s, but at least mine is to preserve peace—leading the blind lambs has never been a desire of mine though.

The rabble of Odin’s pupils manages to distract me for a while, but the content of my disagreement with the master keeps dragging up how much of an outsider I am. Not only am I not a student of the master, but I don’t even wield a keyblade. Mage students aren’t common in Scala Ad Caelum so I was an outcast from the start. My status above them only serves to widen that gap, not to mention the alienation my choice has placed on me. Efforts have always been made to include me in their shenanigans and, while I will likely never be part of the group the same way Bragi is, I always appreciated their kindness. Yet here I am, withholding information that will endanger their very lives because of “grown-up business.” Scum on the bottom of their shoes is what I am.

“We’ll catch you guys later.”

Bragi’s words cut through another stroll through my thoughts. The path that breaks off towards my shop is just to the right. There’s just enough sense left in me to tell the others I’d see them later, receiving some funny looks, before they walk away. That’s when my partner begins prodding at me.

“Alright you. Spill it.” His first few steps start the trek home.

“Huh?”

“You can’t hide it from me. Hell, you can barely hide it from Eraqus. What’s bothering you?” Gods, he’s right. Even at my best, hiding secrets from Bragi is just impossible for me. “What did Master Odin want?” An idiot, Bragi is not.

Suppressing information from the others can barely be excused, but hiding things from my significant other—especially information such as this—feels like a sin. It smolders in my heart and threatens to suffocate me in the smoky guilt. I can fool myself all I want that it’s for the better, but his life is on the line and I would never forgive myself if something happened to him.

Shoving a hand through my hair, I mutter, “He’s going to start preparing you to go off-world. He asked me to accompany you.”

The boy stops in his tracks. “What?”

That guilt billows stronger. “The upperclassmen are missing. He’s sending us to find them.”

The understanding washing over him is visible, turning into fierce objection. “No. Nu uh. You are not coming with us!”

My brows furrow; that’s not the reaction I was expecting from him. Excitement, veiled worry, anger at not being told by his master, maybe even enthusiasm at my presence—those were the things I expected, but his protest is that I’m going with them.

“What?”

“You’re not coming,” he repeats.

I don’t know what it is in me that reacts to this, but it’s insulted. “That’s not really for you to decide.”

Looking ready to fight me over this, he snarls, “No! You’re going back to the castle and telling Master Odin that you refuse.”

“Excuse me?! The last time I checked, I outrank you!” This retaliation further drives home the point that there’s a gap between us. “So I don’t know what silly little delusion you have that makes you think you can boss me around, but you don’t own me! I make my own decisions!”

The combativeness shines in his eyes. “The last time you went on a mission, you disappeared for a month and came back a complete wreck! It took weeks for you to stop having nightmares!”

“So what!”

“So what?! It took me all night to convince myself you’d be okay long enough for me to go to school the next morning! And then I spent all day worrying you were having a meltdown while I wasn’t there!”

“This is part of my job! And I’m not going to let a few bad dreams keep me from protecting the person I care about!” Interrupting his argument, I add on, “Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!” The boy scowls. “Go on! Tell me!”

“It doesn’t matter what I would do! You’re not going!”

“Try and stop me!” His teeth bare. “If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m going home!”

My boyfriend just stands there, glaring at me.

Say something! Say something, you idiot! Yell at me more, grab me, do something! Anything! Don’t let it end like this!

I can’t blame him for not stopping me and I'm ashamed to say that I walked away at that point.

Slamming the door behind me, I lean against it, my weakness finally slipping through my eyelids.

#bragi #khdr bragi #kh bragi #bragi x reader #smarmy fluffcoat #smarmy nonsense #gender neutral reader

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etheralisi · 4 years

Text

ρυмρкιη ριε αη∂ αℓℓ тнιηgs ηιcε

Uses references to this fic:<br /> https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832037

And more or less based on this prompt:<br /> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/160337841310/fluffbird-writing-prompt-s-an-old-and-homely#notes

Alternatively titled ‘Why Gloria Jenkins Should Not Be Allowed Near Candles’, this was the first tau fic I managed to complete back in 2018. It’s undergone a few changes, because ehhh, but I’ll release it into the wild as a short something. It’s doing nothing here, lying around and collecting dust.

𝙰 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙱𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎

~ 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙺𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛

Gloria smiled to herself as she sunk into her chair, her heart as toasty as an open fire, and insides tingling with the lingering feeling of contentment. Sure, the darn thing was falling apart, ragged at the edges and probably worth no more than a penny or two in a garage sale. Stuffing was oozing out that very moment. But it was home , and everything she had left of a life lived, with children running and screaming within these walls. Growing up. Living. Thriving. Leaving the coup to fly free.

But her? The mother hen? She stayed home.

After such a busy day of rooting around her loft for family photo albums, she honestly felt this time to rest her aching bones was well and truly earned, and no, she won’t take any constructive criticism on the matter thank you very much. What was, however, unfortunate to admit aloud and something she’d never in a million years concede to in front of her family was that her bones weren’t as energetic as they had been once upon a time… much alike her dwindling eyesight. Hazy blobs, it all was. Pretty ones, but hazy nonetheless. Her world became an abstract painting the very second her glasses left her face.

The elderly woman groaned, realisation dawning like a sledgehammer to the head, full on smack. She knew something had been missing. Her glasses! The darn things! How could she have possibly forgotten such an important item as those?

Using as much force as she could, Gloria found it in her to haul herself out of the comfort of her chair, even with her body’s initial protest. She stumbled about the house a bit, the grace of a drunkard or woman in need of glasses, searching for the location of wherever she had last left her glasses case. It had been, what? Two moments ago when she saw them? She’d put down the glasses into the case, taken her seat, and fallen into quiet bliss in her chair. Had it been knocked off and fallen under something?

Luck was on her side since her vision wasn’t as bad as it could have been in a few years time, deteriorating as the months wander by, so she managed to make out the basic shapes and colours of her surroundings just fine. No walking into walls for this woman!

Ah. Wait. No. Luck was very much not on her side at all, the case still having failed to show, and Gloria had to result to “making a strategic retreat” as she put it, deeming it inefficient to keep looking for something which would just turn up sooner or later when she wasn’t really looking for it. Thus is the way of life. Shrugging, she made her way back to her sad but lovable excuse for a couch seat, only stopping when she noticed the basket by the front door that she had placed there little under an hour earlier. Her niece, Juliana, had asked if Gloria had any family photos left in her house that she could share with her immediate family, and she had risen to the challenge by diving into her vast loft. And yes, she meant vast . There’s got to be at least two or three sigils on the walls at least to enlarge the interior to twice that of the outside. It was all new technology at the time she bought this house. All the rage.

So. The whole place was a disaster zone. Where all those missing trinkets turn up. Lost some socks? Probably go there, somehow. Good luck finding it in the coming year.

Getting to that album sure took some sweet sweet time. Which is why, on her long perilous journey, family photo albums weren't the only things she had found in her search, the numerous other knick knacks of various interest lying within the basket being an obvious example of this. There had been plenty of things she’d forgotten about, stashed away within the depths of the loft, never to be seen until they resurfaced that very day. Her gaze drifted to the fuzzy, orange sticks lying atop the basket that vaguely looked like fat carrots, if a little waxy if you so chose to chew them. But don’t be fooled by her eyesight, for they weren’t as they seemed.

She was pretty sure those were the candles she’d found hiding in a box labelled “ dangerous ”. Gloria had no idea why they had been labelled as such (maybe a potential fire hazard? Children’s grabby hands and whatnot) and could honestly never remember buying any candles from the Pine River Candle Company in her life. Yet, she knew good quality candles when she saw them, so she had taken them out of their box and added them to her basket to be brought down and used whenever she wanted to make her home smell like fresh pumpkin pie.

Hmm… fresh pumpkin pie, huh? It got her in the mood for a spot of baking. Reminded her of all those years back, the big grin her grandson had always given her whenever a plate stacked with her baked treats was laid out before him.

Alas the boy never really seemed to come visit his ol’ granny anymore, always giving excuses (and oh how he had the audacity to deny them being so — she knew an excuse when she heard one, could sniff one out from a mile away, blindfolded), and barely ever sent her up a Christmas card!

Well, it was his loss. He didn’t want to eat her baking anymore, then fine! She knew others, like the postman, for one, who’d take kindly to being fed.

With that thought in mind, Gloria picked up all six of the candles and made a return back into the living room. She began placing them all around the perimeter of the room, lighting them one by one as she went.

Her chair made protests of its own as she plonked herself back, age being something they both shared in common. Sadly. But she was no feeble woman, and outright refused to fall apart. Nope, not today. Life was good. Great even.

Caught in the moment, she sniffed the now heavily sweet scented air, an aroma that spelled everything she loved more than words could describe. It frolicked, dispersing itself throughout the air, tickling her nose as if it were a feather.

Ah, perfect.

Her eyelids began to shut as exhaustion took ahold of her, which is why it can be excused how she completely missed the way the candles in the room flickered, one by one being replaced with a much more menacing azure flame. Nor did she bear witness to the figure who popped into her living room in a plume of smoke.

What she did not miss, however, was the way said figure grumbled under his breath at the use of scented candles. Just, come on! She may have been old and her sight may have been lacking, but she wasn’t deaf!

Gloria wearily cracked open her left eyelid, before blinking twice to snap herself out of her stupor. The peculiarity of a strange man being in her house was something to pay attention to. And complaining about her candles no less?

Wait…

That brown blob of hair, that voice… could it be?

“Arthur, is that you?” Speak of the devil, had her grandson finally decided to get up off his backside and visit his old lady?

Somehow, though she didn’t know how, the room seemed to become ever more quiet as if trapped within a bubble of silence where not even time dared to flow.

“Uhm…” ‘Arthur’ choked out at last, “ Excuse me? ”

“Aha!” Gloria’s mouth twisted up with glee as she let out a small, victorious laugh which somehow morphed into a gleeful cackle when on the verge of petering out, “I knew it! You couldn’t stay away from my baking forever!”

“Your- nevermind .” He took a deep breath just before he continued, his words strained. “Look, Gloria, I’m not Arthur. I’m Alcor and I-.”

“Alcor huh?” She hummed in thought, not noticing how ‘Arthur’ harrumphed at her interruption. “Sounds pretty dumb. Why’d you change it?”

“And...” Gloria squinted, continuing. “What’s with the wardrobe change? Have you gone gothic, Arthur? That’s a lot of black you’re wearing.”

‘Arthur’ didn’t take too kindly to her plethora of questions, already shuffling backwards from her chair. “... Look, this seems like it was some mistake. I’m just going to go..”

With a speed so fast that she might have even broken the sound barrier, Gloria was out of her chair and had her hand firmly grasped around his arm, “You’re not going anywhere young man! Don’t you dare stop by for two minutes and then leave! You’re coming with me to the kitchen and we’re going to do some baking together just like we used to.”

She noticed him start to speak, though she cut him off before he could even so much as squeak a word out.

“Now off you trot, to the kitchen!” She released her hand from his arm and began pushing him through to said destination. “This rocky road cake isn’t going to bake itself.”

‘Arthur’ seemed to perk up at the mention of ‘rocky road’ and Gloria couldn't help but snicker at his sweet tooth. Some things never seemed to change.

“Ro͜cky̶ ͟ro͘àd͏?” He asked with an odd layer of reverb, getting Gloria to begin questioning if hearing was going a little off after all.

“Yes.” She sighed, already shovelling him into the kitchen and dismissing the reverb. “Now make yourself useful and turn on the oven.”

Alcor’s gold on black eyes numbly trailed after the woman’s figure as she left, leaving him alone in some random kitchen and wondering what the actual heck just happened?

#Transcendence au #Bread fic

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hollyhomburg · 6 years

Text

Butterfly (Part 2) (Reader x Ot7)

-Link for the first part in my Masterlist-

Summary: You’d always imagined that your relationship would be over if your seven boyfriends found out you self-harmed. But after a slip-up, everyone finds out about your bad habit. To your surprise, they make it clear that they’re not going anywhere.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of self-harm, Blood, Self-esteem issues, Self-hate, Bad self-talk, Insecurity, Polyamory, Brief explicit sexual content, Mentions of breakdowns, Slight emotional abuse, Self-conscious! Taehyung,

W/c: 9.0k

A/n: Yeah so Jungkook fucks up in this one, be warned a lot of the shit he says is like 100% not okay. please, if you're triggered by self-harm don't read this. For the record: writing stuff like this is very much a part of my recovery and I'm coming up on my 2 year anniversary of like not doing it!

song rec: Good side by Troye Sivan

One month later:

You sit with your back up against the wall of your bathtub, your head tipped back against the cold porcelain; it cools the sweat that condensed on your neck. Feeling something like a high flick through your veins both supple and leisurely. Your breath comes out in huffs as the euphoria fills you. Your phone dings next to you, a pleasant afterthought to what you’re feeling right now. You cast it an empty glance, another message dings on the screen as you look at it.

Yoongi (10:32): Are you coming over again today? You left kinda suddenly. Yoongi (10:33): It’s a Sunday…

Whereas a few minutes ago a text message from him would have sent you into an anxious spiral, now it just makes you feel nothing- though you have no idea if It has anything to do with him knowing your secrets now or the fact that cutting makes it basically impossible to care about anything. You’re numb, your heart feels like it’s at the bottom of a frozen ocean, your thoughts and worries disappeared into the mist in your mind, darkness dragging in your veins so thick that nothing gets through.

The seconds drip by slowly and not at all. Seconds could have gone by or hours and it would feel the same. Your eyes unfocused on the white tiled wall of your bathroom across from you. Amazingly soft, it seems like it’s barely been a few seconds before you hear your phone ding again.

Yoongi (10:45): Princess?

Yoongi’s pet name for you any other time would make your heart flutter with warmth. And Fuck, the rational part of you that just won’t shut off no matter how deep you go. You know you should really respond to him, that’s what you usually do when you don’t feel like this right? He’s going to worry, really Yoongi’s done nothing but worry over you and fuss the last few weeks.

You know he hates feeling like he’s overbearing, but he knows you need it. It had been a little bit of a fight because you’d been trying so hard, to put back up the walls torn down as he’d been moving to get closer to get you to talk about your dysfunction. The rest of your boyfriends did the same, parrying every indecisive look with nothing but care.

Every single time you went back to your apartment they tried to stop you. Every time you went to the bathroom they measured each minute. More than once they’ve thought: ‘fuck- did I put my shaving razor away?’ You can tell- they breathe a sigh of relief every time you come back into the room, and yesterday when you spend a few extra minutes playing on your phone you heard one of them come to check on you- but disappear once they heard the sound of your phone. They didn’t know to what extent you’d go to hide it, but you knew they didn’t have to worry about that. Why do it when you could be caught? A small sick part of you felt pride at the way you could evade even them.

But then the other part of you retaliated with a vengeance- a war in your head. Let them love you. Let them care. Don’t sneak off and find an easy solution to the anxiety clogging you up like oil.

Don’t do it- Don’t- Just tell them what you need- too late.

That’s what had happened today. Your mind flicks back to the morning.

The rappers had excused themselves early, you’d made your nightly home cuddled between Seokjin and Namjoon and though elder of the two was still asleep. Namjoon had woken you up. Murmuring a sorry for waking you darling against your skin as he retracted his arm from under your body. And while he got ready for the day by showering and doing his morning routine. You had gone to the kitchen to make breakfast. Something that you love to do when you had the time.

It was an off day for you anyway and you didn’t mind. You wanted to give back any way you could now that they were doing so much for you. Maybe if you could do everything for them- it would convince them to stay with you. Maybe if you did enough- it could repay the kindness they had for you.

You stumble into the kitchen ready to make pancakes and a fruit salad for Hobi who didn’t like heavy meals in the morning especially if they had dance practice. Hoseok had a meeting with the choreographer after their meeting today couldn't be full for it. You found Jungkook already sitting there. Enjoying a bowl of cereal and reading the news on his phone.

You stopped startled. “Oh,” you said, “Good morning” Jungkook didn’t look at you, sighing and parroting a good morning back. But it sounds tired, and annoyed and more than a little passive-aggressive. He sounds like the fact that you’re in the kitchen with him makes him want to leave.

You try to fight the anxiety down, tiptoeing around him trying not to make too much noise and disrupt his reading, mentally berating yourself for every little bit of noise you make. Maybe it’s just better if you go back and snuggle with Seokjin, but you want to make breakfast for the others, want to see their eyes light up and eat with them like normal. You want to do something normal with your boyfriends. So you stay, even if every sigh from Jungkook makes you want to bolt.

You remember how it used to be, between the two of you, how a few weeks ago he would have jumped up and snuggled you from behind, back hugged you and stolen pieces of banana out of Hobi’s fruit salad. And asked you how he could help. How Namjoon would come up behind the two of you cooking and sling an arm around each of your shoulders and tease the two of you with kisses asking for a bite of. How you’d shriek and giggle and feel your heart bursting with love.

You accidentally make a clanging sound when you dropped a whisk into the glass bowl, and Jungkook sighs again this time louder. ”Can’t you be quieter? I’m trying to read.” He says, not even looking up from his phone.

“Sorry,” you say meekly. “I’ll try, I’m almost done then I’ll be out of your hair.” And you really had but Jungkook had been all about ready to leave the kitchen by the time you were finishing up the first pancakes. “I’m making pancakes, do you want any? I can easily make more for you? ”

“I’m on a diet.” Jungkook answers. Nothing more nothing less. Namjoon and Hoseok wander into the kitchen before you can really answer. Hoseok has fresh hickeys doting his collarbones and Namjoon has that shaggy sated look that he gets after sex.

Judging by the way he’s hanging onto Hoseok’s hand they’ve just found a more carnal comfort between the two of them- come to think of it you thought you heard something from the bathroom when you passed it. Now you wonder if it was a muffled moan. Hoseok grabs onto your hips and back hugs you as you through a grin over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your neck as he whispers good morning. Definitely post sex, Hoseok is always especially touchy and needy afterward.

“Oh my god I love you” he says as he reaches over to the already chopped fruit salad and pops a blueberry into his mouth making a noise and squeezing you a little tighter around your waist. You can’t resist smiling, and making a happy “ummhmm” noise as you flip a pancake.

“There’s one already ready for you Joonie.”

“Thank you Darling,” he says, as Hobi takes his fruit salad and sits down, leaning over to cuddle into Jungkook slinging his legs over his lap. Jungkook accepts the affection without complaint. and you see his hand rest gently over Hoseok’s on his knee. you turn away before either of them catch you staring, ignoring the way your heart stirs sadly at the sight of them. Why do you feel like you’re intruding?

“Has anyone woken the monster yet?”

“No, he looked too happy wrapped in between Tae and Jiminie. and he was up late last night getting the track ready for the meeting today.”

“Will you go get him up kooky?”

“Make her do it.” Namjoon puts down his fork and swallows his bite of pancake as Hoseok’s arm shudders on its trail up Jungkook’s thigh. “She’s already making breakfast kooky.”

“It’s alright!” You say, taking off Jin’s apron and laying it across the counter.

“No,” Namjoon says, sending a commanding glance your way. “Jungkook can do it.”

Jungkook huffs and pushes Hoseok’s legs off of his. “Fine,” pronouncing the syllable like it’s a knife intending to carve out something from the room and take it with him. “it was too noisy in here to read anyway.” he stalks off.

“Why was he so grumpy today?” Hoseok asks as soon as he’s out of the room. and you share a short glance with Namjoon, he’s looking at you with so much concern in his eyes that you have to look away.

“It’s okay. Probably nothing” You say, immediately undercutting your words by the way you shift from foot to foot and then toss down your dish towel, “I’m going to go apologize to him-“

“For what!?” Hoseok asks as Namjoon tries to stop you. The second you round the corner to Jungkook’s room you freeze, Jungkook is leaning over Jimin who’s still in his loose pajama pants and a too big black shirt of Taes. The light at the end of the hall silhouettes both of them as Jungkook presses Jimin against the wall. As he leans in for a kiss, suddenly, your desire to apologize disappears, and you would have turned to leave if Jimin hadn’t seen you over Kookies shoulder, Jimin smiles and stops inches away from Jungkook’s lips.

“Good Morning Y/n!” Jimin says cheerily, detangling from Jungkook,

You shrink back, already trying to move away, “Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt- I was just-”

“Jesus Christ!” Jungkook groans, turning in your direction even as you mutter out another sorry and try to head back down the stairs. “When will you learn to not be in the way?” jimin’s lips are parted, agape at the scalding tone Jungkook uses with you.

“I’m sorry I-I-“ you stutter and fall silent, unable to meet Jungkook or Jimin’s eyes, your apology falling short. Jimin puts a hand on Jungkook’s arm his mouth opening and closing.

“You what Y/n? What could you of all people have to be sorry for?” Jungkook growls out, and it sounds vapid. Everything in you deflates in a second. Jungkook gives you a moment to respond and when it comes clear you won’t He gives another frustrated huff before he turns and walks into his room, shutting the door behind him roughly. Jimin is standing wide-eyed and too drowsy to really process all that’s just happened but to his credit, he does reach for you. you flinch out of his way. “Jagiya”

“Yeah- fuck that- I’m- I’m out,” you say, swallowing back your tears avoiding Jimin’s concerned look. “I’m out- I’m going back to my apartment- see you later Minnie” You run back down the stairs even though Jimin is calling your name and hurrying after you, You tiptoe shakily into Jin’s room where he still sleeps oblivious to the earthquake of emotions shaking it’s way through you, still sprawled out on the bed. You grab your things from his desk and close the door with a click. Namjoon calls your name too before the door shuts behind you.

Which had lead you to your current predicament. Sitting on your bathroom floor, blood running down your wrist.

They did such a good job of caring for you and you fucked up again and again. You knew you didn’t deserve their care. Confessed to them as much. But Deep down you hated how worried you were making them. Maybe it wasn’t to late to save them from you- from this mess. Maybe if you tried talking to them again, they’d let you leave them over this.

Maybe now that they had seen what it was like to love you like this- they were rethinking their decision of staying with you.

Maybe Jungkook was right- maybe you should just learn to not be in the way.

You’d heard them in the kitchen the night before, as you got ready to stay over “she’s staying the night?” Namjoon had asked on his way inside the apartment. Jimin must have nodded while he turned over a pot of kimchi jjigae “Thank god, now we can keep an eye on her.” he had said hushed. The desperation and relief in that sentence more belying stress rather than concern.

You were making them more stressed all the time, too stressed on top of their busy lives. You missed the days when they would pull you close and tell you that they were lucky to have a girlfriend like you, someone that took away their stress instead of adding to it. They had a comeback coming up in a month, and work was going to pick up. And they wouldn’t have any room at all in their schedules to bother with you, least of all time to deal with this mess. Didn’t mean they wouldn’t worry about it though.

Yoongi (11:10): Are you doing it again? Is that why you’re not responding? Yoongi (11:11): Y/n? Yoongi (11:13): Fuck…

The guilt was just another thing that was going to eat away at you and it makes self-hate curdle in your veins, like lemon in milk. But then again, Jungkook hates you enough for the two of you.

The fight today wasn’t the first thing to happen between the two of you. The increasing distance between you and your youngest boyfriend is something that’s increased each day. Where you even still together? Every time he catches you smiling or laughing or doing anything at all normal a frown fixes on his face and his whole body tightens. You couldn’t stop thinking about it- your fight today, how he’d practically snarled those words at you.

And you know he’s right. You’re so in the way all the time, you were sorry- he had to know you where sorry. Maybe if you just pay for it a little more, cut a little more than you already have, he’ll know you know and then he won’t have to remind you.

Fuck you should really text Yoongi back. But you know what will happen if you tell him- he’ll cancel their meeting and then you’ll be even more in the way than you were before. As if on cue your phone dings again.

Yoongi (11:16): Fuck this waiting. I’m coming over. Seokjin wants to come too. Jimin told me what happened with Kooky today. Namjoon’s going to talk to him later. Yoongi (11:16): Is that okay? That we come over? Yoongi (11:17): Fuck… just answers me at least.

You don’t have the energy right now to do anything- to protest against him coming here. You’ll let him in let him tare down the walls, He would probably just show up anyway even if you told him not too.

You force your nearly numb fingertips to move, your shaky hand hovers over the phone to your right; your bloody fingertips leave marks against your phone as you type out a message:

Y/n (11:20): Don’t let Jin come up if you don’t think he can handle it.

Jin has always more sensitive, more prone to uncontrollable bursts of feels that give way to anxiety in moments like this and you don’t want to make him upset. He doesn’t need to be upset over this. It’s not really a big deal, it’s just you, as usual, self-destructive tendencies and all.

Your phone lights up even before you’re done thinking about your next message. Maybe a warning, maybe bring some Band-Aids, or bring me some sleeping pills to sedate me, or a lie- I’m not at my apartment don’t come over. Lie lie lie. It would be easy- just do it, you’ve lied to them before.

Yoongi (11:23): Fuck, he’s driving, okay. Okay.

Yoongi (11:39): Here, we’re coming up right now.

You try to care that he’s about to see you like this, A hand comes up unbidden, pulling down your shirt to cover your chest. It’s black, so the blood from the few less deep cuts under your breasts won’t stain it. Somewhere in the last half an hour, you’d moved to your wrists- It always felt so much better to cut there after all and you don’t really have to hide them every more but it’s not like you’re going to go around wearing tee-shirts any time soon. You can tell by the way it feels that you’d gone a little too far this time, it’s too numb, but there’ s little you can do about it now.

You spend the few seconds before you hear the keypad and the lock turn for your front door wondering if you should try to stand- to act normal when he obviously knows what happened. Only one set of footsteps. Then a quiet knock on the door.

“Baby…” comes from the outside. Yoongi sounds desperate and more afraid than you want him too.

“Only come in if you’re prepared to see.” Bland, when did your voice start to sound so empty?

“Oh fuck off, Y/n, you know I can handle-” Yoongi says, always a little gruff in inappropriate situations, always a little bad at comforting people no matter how hard he tries, always prone to cursing when he’s feeling things so strongly that he can’t just not, and if you didn’t know him so well it might make you angry instead of endeared, but with how just- nothing you are right now it almost makes you want to laugh.

It’s not hilarious As he opens the door, rolling his eyes as he does it but freezing as he sees you stretched out, languid in your high, and sees the blood. it feels like the floor drops out from under him.

“Told you that you weren’t ready.” You say blandly. Not a single amount of emotion on your face. This was why you cut- both for the nothingness and for the pain that distracted you. To Yoongi you look so gone- besides your pupils, blown like you actually are high.

Your right wrist is completely unmarked- but the other one, and your opposite thigh- they’re. The only word that Yoongi can think to describe them is mutilated. You make to sit up but Yoongi doesn’t let you, Instead of going to the sink and getting a wet washcloth. Before sitting next to you.

His hands shake as he grabs your arm gently. Pressing the damp cloth to your wrist. It’s cool and barely hurts hurt as he slowly wipes away the blood. You still wince and he still chokes out “I’m sorry I’m sorry” and you try to tell him try to say- don’t worry none of them that deep there’s just a lot of them so it only looks like they’re bleeding a lot, but Yoongi silence you with a look, his cheeks wet. Really you hadn’t gone deep at all today, these marks wouldn’t scar, and if they did, they would be barely there white lines, gone before spring.

Normally, you’d struggle to meet his gaze, you’re so empty, that your mind can’t help but fixate on Yoongi, who isn’t looking at you, his russet hair hanging over his eyes as his teeth worry at his lower lip. “Yoongi you don’t have to-“ he sends you a glare, and then moves onto your thigh, even wiping off your phone.

“Where’s Jin?” you croak, your throat dry.

“He’s getting snacks at the convenience store for our movie night.”

“Movie night?” you ask, Yoongi sighs, knowing you’d forgotten, though you obviously have more on your plate than thoughts about a movie night. Obviously, they all have more on their plate. He’s so glad he made the choice to come over- when Jimin had come to find him shortly after you left and said, “I’m worried about her- something just happened with kooky and then she left and I think she might be- I know you have to go meet with management today but-“

“I know I’m shit at saying my emotions out loud, or expressing my needs or - or telling- or showing you I care, but I need to say it.” Yoongi’s voice is shaking as he takes your hand gently in his, tears drip down his chin and he wipes them away angrily.

“Please don’t- don’t die on me, don’t…kill yourself, please. I don’t care where I am- what I’m doing- if I have to run 100 miles, stay on the phone with you the whole night, or cancel a fucking tour to come and get you, if I have to hold you down to stop you- at least tell me if it’s getting bad. And if you can’t- then fuck, fuck at least tell Namjoon, or Seokjin, or someone, fuck-”

“Yoongi,” you say, grabbing his chin softly, wiping away one of the tears that’s gotten trapped on his lower on his lip. Trying to make your words as clear as possible. “I’m not gonna kill myself.”

“Are you sure you’re not trying too?” He asks, gesturing to your wrist and thigh. Sometimes Yoongi is the bluntest spitfire in your whole group, and you’re thankful right now, because his words are cutting through your haze of adrenaline and the release of endorphins left over from your high. And in the sterile light of your bathroom you admit, your skin does look a little…shredded. It looks a little concerning, and concern is good, that means you’re feeling for once.

A bag of candies falls in the hallway, the jawbreakers already open, rattling against the tile as they fall to the floor, multicolored. Both your heads snap up, to behold Jin in the doorway. The bag of snacks in his hands fall to the ground joining the gobstoppers on the floor.

“Fuck,” he says, his eyes wide and terrified as he takes in the scene in front of him, Yoongi and your bare wrists on the floor of the bathroom. Seokjin strong arms himself into the bathroom.

“Jinnie I’m sorry I didn’t want you too-“ Jin looks down at you a little angry but more than a little sad. He holds up a finger stopping your words as he goes to where he knows he first aid kit is. Your bathroom isn’t small by any means but there is barely enough room for Seokjin to sit in front of you and wrap your arm with a bandage. Yoongi pins himself by the wall slumping from his crouch onto his ass and holding your hand. As Seokjin takes out the things he needs to patch you up.

You let him do it, limp even when he runs the disinfectant over them. The sting barely hurting compared to how your whole body is throbbing. “You shouldn’t have whipped off the blood now they won’t clot as well,” Seokjin says too Yoongi who quickly replies, “I didn’t know-”

“Please” you stop them, “don’t fight over me, and don’t fight over this- it’s not worth it, I’m-”

“If you say you’re not worth it, I think I might punch a wall” Yoongi informs you. A tear from Seokjin’s eyes single drops onto your wrist, but Seokjin quickly wraps up your arm with the gauze, covering it. But you still feel the slight prick of coolness. Seokjin is hunched over, his longer hair falling into his eyes.

“Jin-“ Yoongi says,

“I don’t- we can’t- I can’t talk about this right now,” Jin says, gritting his teeth looking up at you, trying desperately not to cry. “Because if we do, then I’m going to try to convince you to promise never to do this again and then well fight because I know you won't and I don’t- I don’t want to be like that right now.” You nod, as Yoongi bites his lip looking from you to Seokjin. “I don’t want to fight with you when it’s clear you're struggling.”

“I don’t want tonight to be like that either.” You breathed out, a tiny drop of relief breaking through as Jin finishes tucking the gauze in place so that it won’t unravel.

“We’re gonna do movie night at the dorm tonight. Get some of your stuff, you’re sleeping over again.”

“Okay?” you say as Jin helps you up, you don’t quite understand the implications of his words. He sighs and presses a kiss to your forehead, explaining, the words soft against your skin as he holds you around your shoulders. His muscles shaking as he holds you firmly but not roughly. Behind you, Yoongi leans his forehead against the cool back of your neck.

“Because I can’t let you be alone tonight. I won’t get a wink of sleep if you’re not next to me” you almost say that you’ll be good for a few days at least, that you won’t need to cut again for the next few days, maybe more if the severity of this is anything to judge by. But one look at Seokjin steely sad eyes, like he’s telling himself he will not break alongside you has you nodding softly alongside Yoongi.

Seokjin takes a while to calm down, driving back to the dorm gives him something to think about other than the fact that when he fell asleep you were alright and then by the time he’d woken up you’d already fallen apart. But your hand wrapped in his over the center console is enough to ground him. The gauze wrapped around your wrist poking out from underneath your sleeve.

In the back seat, Yoongi calls and tries to reschedule the meeting for tomorrow, but then compromise, settling for later tonight. The rappers might not be home by the time you finish the movie but they can at least be there for the beginning of it. And you knew that Hoseok had a meeting with the choreographer and wouldn’t be able to be back until after the meeting at all.

Yoongi sends a short text to the group chat about what happened, it’s a new one, made freshly by Jimin after they all realized that Jungkook, that maybe it was better if he wasn’t in on the conversations of your mental health. The group chat has everyone but Jungkook and you in it. and if feels weird to exclude you both but they all know they need it in order to have real conversations about what’s going on.

Yoongi (12:27): We’re on our way back to the dorm with Y/n

Yoongi (12:29): Before anyone asks, she’s okay, but yeah, she cut again.

Joonie (12:31: I’m going to talk to him.

Jimin (12:33): Don’t bother, I tried and he ran away to the studio to practice. Hobi and I are following.

Hope (12:34): I’ll try to talk some sense into him

Hope (12:34): She seemed fine this morning

Tae (12:35): Fuck I just woke up

Tae (12:35): I’m so worried

Hope (12:37): Do you think it’s okay if Jimin and I call her?

Yoongi (12:38): Yeah I think she’s doing better now.

Your conversation with Hoseok and Jimin is short, but Jin doesn’t let you let go of his hand on the console. “yeah Hobi I’m alright, Jin and Yoongi they- No I know -I'll do better in the- that’s sweet of you both to say but- No I didn’t mean it like that Jiminie- okay I'll stop the bad self talk.” you suck in on your lower lip, and Yoongi sees you wipe a tear out of the corner of your eyes.

“I love you too Hoseok, Love you too Jiminie, Don’t work yourself too hard today and drink lots of water!- I’ll probably be asleep when you get home Hobi but yeah, we can totally all go on a date tomorrow. See you in a bit Jiminie” your eyes flicker up to meet Yoongi’s in the rearview mirror and something thick and longing clogs his throat, he can hear Jimin saying something to you through the speaker, “Promise” you say to him, before you end the call.

Later that night, Jungkook comes in from practicing at the studio to find the kitchen empty. Halfway through the day, Hobi and Jimin had come in to do a little bit of practicing before the choreographer got there. And Hoseok had tried to talk to Jungkook before he’d turned the music up when the elder had started to say, “ Kookie I need to-“ and kept working at the moves to his solo song.

Hoseok had been pissed and rightfully so. Jungkook could tell by how he danced falling into step beside Jungkook when one of their group songs came on, all of the moves aggressive and nothing easy and fluid like usual. Jungkook had kept practicing until Hoseok had gone to meet with the choreographer, jimin sighing and going home, glaring at Jungkook before he let the practice room door fall shut with a slam behind him. Hoseok would be there until the rescheduled meeting later that night, the same one that was supposed to be that morning but Jungkook had no obligations.

Why had Yoongi rescheduled? Jungkook didn’t know. It was unusual for Yoongi to cancel meetings. Usually, he was the one making them. Jungkook practices until the early hours of the evening, only going home when the moves aren't getting any better- they’re already perfect Jungkook drops his bag on the floor of the empty kitchen and pushes back the sweaty hair from his forehead as he kicks off his shoes and pours himself a glass of water.

It’s a little surprising to find no one in the kitchen at this time of night, usually someone would be cooking, usually, you’d be here- helping someone do something with that adorable smile lifting your whole face, the same one that always made he want to kiss you.

And then you’d look and see Jungkook staring, and he’d see your happiness falter and then come back more strained, less genuine and more tainted. Even though you tried to be happy Jungkook could see the distress lurking in you and it made him feel angry, why where you pretending to be happy? Why couldn’t you just be honest with them? He’d never ever lied to you, and you just lied and lied on the daily.

Jungkook hears noise coming from the dark living room and goes to investigate, suddenly the lack of dinner makes sense, there are take out containers littering the coffee table and a movie blaring from the TV. Jungkook gets angry again, because it’s one that he’d been waiting to see. They couldn’t go to movie theaters because they stood the chance of being recognized and he remembers vividly discussing how interested he was in the foreign film and how he wanted to wait to watch it in high quality with you- oh.

That’s why no one had told him there was a movie night and take out waiting at home. It was one of their rituals, to pile in all soft and snuggly with each other, especially when one of them wasn’t feeling the best. Because of you.

You’re wearing a pair of baggy sweat pants and a large pink sweatshirt that swallows your frame in between Taehyung and Seokjin, He recognizes The sweatshirt you’re wearing as one of Jin’s, stolen by you regularly after Jin had spilled soy sauce on the sleeve.

Your shoulder is tucked underneath Taehyung’s arm; your cheek rest against his chest and your hood up, his arm hung over yours to intertwine with your fingers. The two of you have a weird contrast going on, Tae with his red sweatshirt, hood pulled up and you in the pink. His other hand holds onto Namjoon’s next to him, whose other hand is playing in the back of Taehyung’s overgrown hair.

Your feet stretch sideways into Seokjin’s lap, though he looks very much asleep His hands resting on your thighs. Yoongi sits with Jimin in-between his legs on the other settee by the window. Yoongi isn’t watching the movie at all, instead, his eyes rest only on you, but Jungkook can see the tell tale signs of sleepiness dragging his eyes down.

Jimin too, doses in the soft light, blinking sleepily at Jungkook when he notices him standing in the doorway, hovering like he’s unsure if he should join, if they want him to join.

A movie night, regular and habitual, he hadn’t seen any message about it in the group chat, and the realization that he was left out stings him from his throat to his heart. For the third time today, Jungkook finds himself pissed off.

Before he can make his escape, Jimin says his name, a small strained but sleepy smile and concern coloring his features. At Jimin’s words, everyone looks at him, Taehyung and Yoongi say a sleepy hello and offer him some of the takeouts, Seokjin remains asleep.

Your eyes flicker to Jungkook’s for a second. You look exhausted, your eyes so empty, more empty than usual. you have none of your strained happiness, none of you’re unsureness, There’s just...nothing. And instead of smiling, of saying hello, you flinch, actually flinch when you see him staring. You turn yourself into Taehyung’s shoulder to hide your face turning your whole body towards the couch.

Taehyung sends Namjoon a worried glance as the question “how was your day?” dies in his throat. Taehyung pulls you more snug against his chest crowding you in, in the way that everyone knows you like best. Biting his lip as he casts a worried glance Jungkook’s way. A look that Jungkook perceives as accusing instead of what it is, which is worried.

How many times have you told them that you love feeling small and wrapped up? How many times had Jungkook held you tightly? Pressed you against the wall? Because he knows you like to feel pinned in and kept? Knows that you like to feel small? And now you’re turning away from him, hiding, your hands drawn up protectively against your chest.

“Sorry for interrupting your movie night.” Jungkook says sourly, keeping his voice low so that he doesn't disturb the peace there more than he already has. he turns and walks away before his temper has a chance to rise. But Namjoon jumps up and runs after Jungkook. For a moment Jungkook thinks Namjoon’s going to comfort the youngest, pull him to his chest in the way that Namjoon always does- because he’d always had a soft spot for the youngest even when they where both kids.

But Namjoon doesn’t pull Jungkook into his embrace, instead, he grabs Jungkook’s wrist, not roughly, but Namjoon’s always been like a big teddy bear, he tries to be gentle but a lot of the time his strength gets away from him.

“Oh no you don’t- you don’t get to go run to your room after what you said today” it’s not a usual thing for the leader to get so pissed off at the youngest. It only happens when he’s really being an asshole but somehow that knowledge only makes him more bitter. “Jimin told me how you yelled at her.”

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook spits.

“Don’t play dumb with me-“

“What happens between the two of us is none of your business, I thought we agreed to not get in the way of each other's fights.” It feels petty reminding Namjoon of the rules that he’d set up when they’d all started their relationship. And Namjoon’s eyes darken as he sucks in his cheeks, jaw tensing. Trying not to let the anger get the best of him. At that moment he’s more leader than a boyfriend. When did things get this way between the two of them?

“Yeah, but when my girlfriend goes and cuts herself because of how you treat her you can’t expect me not to.” Namjoon’s words cut through Jungkook’s irrational anger like a knife. He stops trying to tug his hand out of Namjoon’s grip. Fuck he didn’t think, he didn’t realize how far he’d pushed you.

“You mean she… is she okay?” Jungkook almost crumbles under the sudden crashing and destructive wave of guilt, his anger swallowed up by horror. swallows back the guilt. Namjoon huffs, letting Jungkook’s wrist fall,

“Yoongi and Jin went and got her after she ran out this morning, they told me it’s bad, but she won’t even show us. She said she doesn’t want to be in the way of our movie night. Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

When will you learn to get out of the way, he had screamed at her. Jungkook can’t think through the emotions in his head, the fact that you went and did that because of what he said. “I- I didn’t realize, I thought- I’m so-” Jungkook covers his face with a hand, his shoulders shaking.

“Jungkookie,” Namjoon places his hand on the youngest shoulder, the darkness of the hallway almost blue in the winter light. “I know that you have trouble with this... whole Thing and that things haven’t been great between the two of you but please- please” Namjoon begs, gritting his teeth and trying not to cry. “Please don’t make it worse. I know it doesn’t seem like she’s trying to get better to you- but she really is- just- I’m not blaming you for her actions- But the things you say are negatively affecting her.”

“I didn’t mean too- I didn’t think that I was-” Jungkook can’t help but stutter.

“Doing anything other than trying to change her mind? by holding your affection hostage? Yeah, I know.” Yoongi calls Namjoon’s name, and he knows that they have to get going soon to make it to the meeting on time. “I know you weren’t acting with the intent to harm her. If she’s gonna get better- she has to choose it, by herself, for herself, and not because she thinks that will make you happy” Namjoon’s hand lies gently on Jungkook’s shoulder where he stands, half turned to walk away and frozen as his lower lip quivers. The eldest lies his head on Jungkook’s shoulder for a moment, and doesn't say anything more before he pulls away.

Jungkook’s frozen to the spot as he hears Namjoon’s feet disappear down the hallway. Jungkook listens to him and the chorus of goodbyes as Yoongi and Namjoon leave the apartment, and only when the drone of the movie blares through the hallway does Jungkook’s chest collapse in on itself.

He shoves his fist in his mouth to stop his sobs from making enough noise to alert the others to the hot tears that carve a path down his cheeks. He stumbles through his blurry vision. Hand groping along the wall trying to find his room, so that he can break down in private, he doesn’t want to take away your support system right now and he knows Jimin would come running when really he should be comforting you.

You deserve it more than he does. He locks the door to his bedroom and collapses onto his bed, letting the pillow muffle his sobs. He didn’t believe that he could hurt someone he loved, but he’d hurt you. Jungkook didn’t look down at his hands and see someone vindictive, but he’d kicked you when you were already down today. And it made him feel guilty and disgusting and like the worst boyfriend in the whole world, if you still wanted to be

Today you hadn’t failed him- today he’d failed you.

You rest your head on Taehyung’s shoulder, trying to stay awake long enough to say Goodnight to Hobi and the others but you don’t think you're going to make it. The rappers are still all at the studio, and a text confirms the fact that they won’t be back till the early hours of the morning.

Seokjin and Jimin have already gone to bed with the promise that as soon as you and Taehyung want too you’ll join them. The movie you’d wanted to watch for ages has faded though you’d fallen asleep near the end of it and woken up just before Seokjin and Jimin tucked in.

Kisses on your forehead roused you as Jimin’s plush lips dragged against your skin, a kiss to your forehead, either of your cheeks, nose and lips, his eyelashes tickling your skin. Jimin lifted your left arm and pressed a kiss to just under the gauze, your pulse point beating against his mouth. before softly smiling and kissing you on the mouth, wishing you sweet dreams before seokjin treated you in kind.

“Jesus you two- making me blush.” you’d said, rubbing your face against Taehyung’s chest to hide your face and smile. Feeling a little better, enough so to tease them into chuckles, Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh bouncing off the walls. Taehyung’s chest shakes underneath your cheek.

Now the drama that Taehyung was trying to catch up on blared in the background, a pleasant afterthought, but he wasn’t paying attention to it. His hands smooth out your hair, pulling through the tangles gently. A thumb brushes against your cheek.

He was looking at you captivated, all his focused narrowed down to you feeling his heart pump full with red shimmery love. Your soft eyes, and your cheek pillowed against his arm, you were so small folded against him, Your body ropey from sleep and the stress of the day that taehyung wishes he knew the remedy too. You look up, attention snagged by Taehyung’s eyes which dont back down in their staring when you catching him watching you. He looks a little sad-happy, melancholy and lost in his thoughts. He swallows thickly but his hands still go up to cup your cheek, guiding your face to his.

The brush of his lips against yours is soft and achingly gentle. It’s been a few weeks since the last time you were intimate with this particular lover though you know Jungkook drags him into bed more nights than he doesn’t. You don’t let your heart linger on the thoughts of your youngest boyfriend, not now when tae is offering himself up in the most gentle unassuming way he can. Taehyung’s lips are hungry but soft in pressure, ready for you to pull back away and say- not right now because today has been kind of really shitty even if you haven’t given up on it yet.

But you don’t do anything but kiss back as the passion builds and takes some of the breath from your lungs. It comes rushing out of your pink mouth over his face in warm waves buffering back any lingering tension. His strong hands hold onto the small of your back holding you against him. The thick Pads of his fingers run over the ridges of your spine appreciative and syrup slow.

Taehyung breaks the kiss abruptly, standing, reaching for the remote. He shuts off the TV plunging the room into darkness, but he tugs you up and through the dark and quiet apartment to his room. Everything is gray in the light of recently fallen night, the lights not yet put on, everything monochrome. His sheets smell like him but you don’t mind at all as Taehyung kisses you again with the lights off. His lips the only available sensation drowning you in their tidely pull, he pushes you gently back onto his bed and when he kisses you again he can feel the smile that stretches your lips as you let him have control over you, let him because this is what you like, this is how you like it.

At least this he knows. when there are so many other question marks in your relationship.

His hands trail scaling paths on the skin around your waist. Your fingers scratch against his skull as his hands become hungry making Taehyung moan softly against your mouth.

But this is still achingly soft and compared to what you’re used too- you’re used to the bite of his hands the nibble of his teeth against your lower lip or your neck, not these trailing sensual and delicate kisses. It works you up faster somehow- maybe because you’re so unused to it. But your breath is heaving. Tae leans up so that you can remove your pants and shimmy them down your waist. He doesn’t eye the square of tapped gauze on the side of your thigh or the fresh cuts that he knows it hides. He heard enough about them from Yoongi earlier.

The tips of his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and pull them down, sliding them over your calves and off slowly, before pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. Letting his hands brush over all of you, Taehyung wants to feel every inch of you, even the ones that he can’t touch. That you won’t let him see, not that he’s any better. Looking down at all of you flustered and blushing in the half-light, all of you on display just for him, he feels so lucky.

lucky, and unsure, but maybe this helps? maybe this is enough? maybe profering up his own intimacy will be enough in exchange for the certainty of knowing you, or maybe it was terrible to think that those things could be exchanged and not given when ready.

but what else can he offer?

You’re panting even though you’ve barely been touched yet; Taehyung’s eyes are hot and devouring like burning embers on you. You sit up, legs parted to fit his hips in-between, his hands still on either of your ankles. You reach forward, hand brushing against the generous length tenting in his red boxers already fully hard and twitching. The thickness makes your breath heavy as you think back to the many times that length has been inside you.

“Wait,” he says, your hand just reaching inside his red boxers but not his shirt, never his shirt, because Taehyung never lets anyone see him without a shirt on. He kneels at the edge of the bed, fixing you with an unsure expression, sucking on his lower lip; his hands shake as they tug on the bottom of his red hoodie up. Your hand finds his, stopping him when you realize what he’s about to do.

“Tae- you don’t have too.” But he takes it off anyway, something he’d never done- for you or any of your boyfriends in bed. He shakes in the warmth of his bedroom, his shoulders and chest bare to you for the first time. And sure Taehyung has a little tummy and he’s not as toned as some of your other boyfriends but he’s still gorgeous. His soft lines and honey tones make you want to dip your fingers in and find out what the skin tastes like.

He’s shaking, and you can tell that his comfort is tenuous, but he reaches for you, pulling your arms up around his neck, and your still clothed chest against his bare one.

The kiss you share is full of so many things- it’s hello and it’s okay all in one and somehow it makes you so sad that Tae is still shaking, that he flinches when your warm palm slides down his neck to his pectoral. So you keep it there, his heart beating against your fingertips, stampeding towards some end. His hands tremble against you as they slide up under the back of your sweatshirt.

“Please.” He mutters against your lips as he slides them higher pulling your sweatshirt up slowly, seeing if you’re going to make him pull it back down. “I won’t hide from you if you won’t hide from Me.” he says, and then repeats the earlier, “please.”

And in the darkness- an inch from pitch black you can barely see him and he can barely see you. Your hands reach, equally shaky, as you strip yourself of Jin’s baggy sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing. You feel vulnerable and raw, with Tae’s hungry eyes roaming over you, but then you can feel his warm skin against yours for the first time and it feels amazing. Taehyung shivers and groans with your warm breasts press against his chest.

It feels kind of silly now- how long you both denied yourself of this intimate feeling. Taehyung spends full minutes running his hands over the smooth skin of your back, his touch appreciative and exploratory as you touch him too. Sitting cross-legged in-between his. Your core pressed up against this hips. The thin material of his boxers soaking through with your wetness.

Tae doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of The way that your skin feels pressed against his. Taehyung doesn’t think he’ll ever want to go back, no matter how much it makes him shiver and fear that the words ‘not enough,’ will fall from your lips. Taehyung’s already breathing heavy as he pulls away for a moment to look at your face.

You look like Tae feels- like you think you don’t deserve this feeling- but loving yourself alongside others is a learning curve and a process. If he shakes with the weight of trying something new you shake with uncertainty too.

“Can I kiss them?” he asks a barely uttered question. You feel the desire more than hear it in his fingertips skipping over the scars and fresh marks under your breasts. Your nipples peak in the air, despite the fact that it feels almost too warm. You don’t say no, but you suck on your lower lip, but your arms move a little bit, covering them a little. Taehyung knows a ‘no’ when he sees it, even though you won’t say it.

but surprisingly “Why do you want to?” you ask. and taehyung feels a little bit of precious surety come back.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger over the fresh ones because he really doesn’t want to cry right now. His thumbs skim over your sides, the old ridges there gently. “Sometimes it feels like i dont know how to help you, like whatever we’re doing is all wrong, and we can tell it is but we don’t know what else to do. but i’m willing to try new things, to try everything in the hopes that it might make it better.” because taehyung is absolutely petrified that what he can give you, the way that he’s capable of loving you isn’t enough at all to keep you from hurting the way you do.

and at the same time He’s willing to try everything to try to find something that fits.

You deliberate again, and then you lift your hands, nodding your permission. Tae leans you back against his bed. Tae’s mouth brushes over some of your scars, the touch soft and barely there. He speaks his next words pressed against them.

“I don’t love the part of your brain that’s convinced you that you’re all of the bad things you think you are, that you don’t deserve this.” His lips press over the old deep scar underneath your left breast, and then down to the ones that are red and barely healed from a few weeks ago.

“But I do love the part of your brain that laughs at the small inconveniences that would ruin another person’s day, but i love the way you love me- the way you love all of us. it’s so beautiful and i’m so glad that i get to see it. We get caught up in it and get careless- being in love makes people careless because of how consuming it is. And i’m so scared cuz i know love isn’t enough. I love every inch of you- except the part of you that makes you do this, but even then I-“

“Tae,” you say, your hand covering his cheek, “you don’t have to say these things.” He rests his forehead against yours.

“But I want too, I want to tell you why I love you with your flaws and not despite them so that you stop thinking that love is like a scale for me. There are no cons that could out way the fact that I love you and that when it comes down to it I will always want you here, next to me, and safe. I want to tell you because if you understand, maybe you’ll stop thinking that leaving me, leaving us, is the best thing you could do. Because it’s not- it’s actually the worst.”

“All i want is for you to be happy and i have no idea how to make that happen accept for trial and error, and as much as i hate it- i’m so scared,” Your kiss is tentative and filled with so much warmth and tenderness, an earth shattering and heart-rending love that fills you up so much you almost feel like you’ll choke.

But still- it kind of makes you hopes you can at least try to get better one day. Even if recovery is a word you’re not even close to thinking about let alone trying to implement. You tug your own mouth down Tae’s chest, and press a gentle kiss to his collarbones, Tae’s sensitive spot is usually his ears and the spot just behind them, But he shivers because he knows you’re going to go lower.

Your kisses are tentative but warm in the darkness, and you don’t feel the need to say the same things that Taehyung does but he gets the picture, you love every inch of him the same way that he loves every inch of you and his showing you by kissing and running your hands across every inch, but not too quickly, but slowly so that he knows where you’re going and doesn’t have a chance to get overwhelmed.

you go slowly, but why does it feel like time is running out?

Though the sex that night wasn’t the best you’d had, for either of you, it made you happy and calm in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Tae doesn’t even make to tug back on his sweatshirt after you’re done, instead holding you close. you don’t mind that he falls asleep before you do.

A few days later, Tae walks into the kitchen shirtless and actually makes Jin flip a pancake onto the floor. Namjoon knocked over a chair, and Tae fights the urge to cover up as he slides next to you, your warm hand on his thigh is enough as he looks down, stifling the flush that blossoms on his cheekbones and refuses to meet their stares. Jiminie slings his arms around his shoulders and presses a kiss to his shoulder. Wordless praise that Taehyung needs.

His lovers don’t mention anything about his choices, though he catches Namjoon sending you a proud expression- who knows maybe you’d told him about the other night. But none of them shy away. He doesn’t catch any of them giving him expressions of disgust none of them hiss that he should cover up. And though he does pull on a shirt after he’s done with breakfast, the day feels like a victory for everyone.

The day is a victory, even if the others are slow in coming, you hope there are more after that.

(Please comment and reblog! Likes are nice, but they do little to support content creators!)

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sharada-n · 5 years

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(7: A kiss to shut them up) Ah yes, the poly ship sails once more

Anybody with a working pair of eyes could plainly see that Moomin was absolutely, completely, head over heels in love with Snufkin.

It wasn’t exactly surprising. Moomin was the kind of person who craved adventure, who always went looking for some interesting situation to absorb himself into or a new story to be a part of. Who utterly lived for excitement, no matter where that may lead him.

But Moomin was also the kind of person who often found those things in others instead of himself, and when it came to interesting or new, Snufkin stood out in Moominvalley like a Woodie in a row of Hattifatteners.

Most of the other creatures in the valley were of a more complacent nature. While many fascinating and sometimes rather bizarre things happened there, most of them regarded these happenings with a kind of detached unease, largely concerned whether this latest strange occurrence was likely to intervene with their habitual afternoon tea.

Snufkin was of the wandering variety though. Somebody who knew a whole lot but said very little, full of surprises and unexpected musings, who distanced himself from others but was always kind and polite in the most unmundane ways possible. It wasn’t hard to imagine why so many adored him, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why Moomin was smitten with him.

And he wasn’t exactly subtle about it either. It was only for so long that a boy could stare longingly out the window wondering when his best friend would reappear to figuratively and literally chase away the cold of winter before people became suspect.

So it came to be that everybody knew. Everybody but Moomin himself, who was all kinds of amazing but could be daft as a pile of bricks when it concerned Snufkin. And Snufkin himself, who had the average communication skills of a potato and was not at all adapt at handling emotional matters. So there wasn’t much hope of the situation resolving by itself.

People often asked Snorkmaiden if this irritated her. Moomin was her boyfriend after all, had been ever since they started playing house and make-believe on the grassy downs of the valley and really, wasn’t it rather irksome to see her love pining so desperately for another?

And if pressed she could tell them that yes, it bothered her. It bothered her endlessly, in fact. Just not for the reason most people assumed it did.

Principally, she just wanted Moomin to be happy. Snufkin made Moomin very happy. She herself made Moomin very happy as well. And he made her the happiest Snork in the world, because if anything he was devoted to her like no other was, kind and soft and thoughtful. He was just similarly devoted to Snufkin, of course, and seeing him tying himself into knots over the whole situation was what really bothered her at the end of the day.

The heart of the matter was simple. Moomin was in love with Snufkin. Snufkin was clearly in love with Moomin. Moomin was in love with Snorkmaiden as well, and she herself obviously fancied him a lot. But what people often forgot was that Snorkmaiden was friends with Snufkin too, had known him at least as long as Moomin had even and spent many sunny summer afternoons together in quiet contentment. And he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes either.

Moomin and her were already girlfriend and boyfriend of course. But the way she saw it there was no reason why Snufkin couldn’t be their boyfriend also. The solution shouldn’t be any more complicated than that.

“Do you like Moomin?”

Snufkin stalled for a moment, almost losing his grip on the fishing rod and having it tumble into the river. He recovered quickly though, fake-coughing politely into one fist instead but refraining from answering immediately. Snorkmaiden either didn’t notice or didn’t care, she was busy making flower crowns out of the wild geraniums that grew on the riverbank.

“Of course I do.” He answered after a few moments, cautiously. Snufkin wasn’t exactly opposed to company when that company was content with sitting in silence next to him enjoying the peaceful afternoon and not bothering him directly. But conversations that started with questions, particularly questions like these, had the disconcerting tendency of veering into terrain he rather steered clear of.

Moomin had taken Sniff and Little My on some kind of adventure today, Snorkmaiden decided to stay behind and that in itself should have been enough to tip him off that something was not right really.

But she didn’t say anything more and Snufkin had just started thinking he might have been let off the hook (unlike the fish he was currently reeling in) when she spoke again.

“Do you like like him though?”

The reel handle spun rapidly as he lost his grip once more, the minnow was probably under some sort of divine protection because it used the sudden slackness of the line to try and extract itself from the hook post-haste, and Snufkin didn’t even have the presence of mind to notice.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He lied.

Snorkmaiden huffed, the kind of little annoyed huff some people do when they can tell you are telling them a fib but are too courteous to call you out on it directly. She finished her crown and put it on her head, trying to admire her own reflection in the river but the fish was causing too many ripples with its great escape attempt for her to see herself clearly.

There were another few tugs and then it succeeded in freeing itself and swam merely down the stream, saved from becoming Snufkin’s dinner for at least another day. Snorkmaiden looked at him and if he didn’t know any better he’d say she was smirking.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” She said.

“I really need to be getting back.” He answered instead, dropping the fishing pole right then and there and leaving his bait too. Moominvalley wasn’t exactly a hotbed for criminal activity so he was sure it would still be there when he came back for it.

And if not he could always get a new one.

For the next few days Snufkin avoided being alone with Snorkmaiden as much as possible. This wasn’t exactly a hard thing to do, usually Moomin would be spending time with either of them (if not both of them) at any given moment after all.

But he noticed her watching him more shrewdly than was usual, as if analyzing his every movement and it made him slightly nervous. Normally Snufkin wasn’t the kind of person to be much bothered by other people’s opinions of him, but just once Moomin had embraced him in a moment of sudden exhilaration, throwing his paws around Snufkin’s shoulder shortly and impulsively and he had been able to feel Snorkmaiden’s eyes burning into his back.

Only on one occasion did she manage to corner him in the kitchen of the Moominhouse, staring at him intently for a moment, before standing at the counter next to him and watching him make coffee. Moominmamma had been so kind as to lend him her kettle, since he had lost his own during the previous winter.

Snorkmaiden leaned onto the countertop slightly, batting her eyelashes up at him almost innocently. Girls could be so weird sometimes. “I know you like Moomin.”

“Oh?” Was the only noise he had been able to make at that moment.

“I think he likes you too.”

And that had sent a very undignified blush all the way onto his cheeks, though he tried using his scarf as cover to hide it.

Snorkmaiden and Moomin were dating. Snufkin knew this. And he wasn’t scared of a lot of things, you really can’t be a good nomad if you are, but on the other hand there was this belief that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and Snufkin had not the slightest intention of finding out if this was true.

“It’s fine.” He said, abandoning the coffee half-done. “It’s nothing, really. We’re just friends.” And then he fled the kitchen without waiting to hear her response.

So far Snorkmaiden could only assume her purpose had been awfully misconstrued.

The subtle approach clearly wasn’t relaying her intentions correctly, for Snufkin had taken to darting away from her at every chance, much like a frightened animal will do when backed into an unpleasant situation.

She had tried most everything she could think of now to get the conversation going without having to resort to drastic and dramatic gestures. Snufkin wasn’t the type of person to go for those. It would make him uncomfortable, she knew. Then again, he had already begun to refuse to be around her at all lately, and by extension around Moomin too and that had quite been the opposite of her goal.

Though it would be unbecoming of a lady, she had no choice but to wait for the perfect opportunity to present itself and then do something completely uncouth.

The perfect opportunity did present itself a mere two days later. Snorkmaiden had been out for an evening walk, as she was sometimes wont to do, to admire the beauty of nature and also to get out of the house since her brother had worked himself up into a frenzy again about one thing or another.

She had stopped by the Moominhouse but her love wasn’t there. It was reasonable to assume he might be off with Snufkin then, but when she crossed the bridge who should she find but the wanderer himself, busy at work on alighting his fire pit.

“Snufkin.” She called, and the boy startled so badly he banged his head against the pot hanging above the fire. Snorkmaiden giggled, but hid it behind her hand. She was still a lady, despite what she was about to do.

“Snorkmaiden.” He said, without turning around and while rubbing his forehead gingerly. “Moomin isn’t here.”

“I know.” And she walked around to sit on the tree trunk opposite him.

She could tell Snufkin was thinking about running off again. He did that thing where his eyes darted around as if looking for convenient excuses. However, she didn’t think he was desperate enough to abandon his tent, which was a lot harder to replace than a fishing rod, and leave his dinner to burn completely. In fact she was counting on it.

“Can we talk?”

Snufkin stopped tending to his forehead (which was probably less a case of concussion and more of crippled pride) and returned to his pot. “Of course.” He mumbled. “We’re talking right now.”

“It’s about Moomin.”

“Is it?” He leaned back gingerly, the flames of the fire reflecting unsteadily in his dark eyes.

“I think he’s in love with you.”

“Do you?”

“I think you’re in love with him as well.”

“You reckon?”

Snorkmaiden crossed her arms and he looked at her for the first time since she arrived.

“I’m sorry.” He said then and she could tell he was trying hard not to get flustered again. “But I can assure you it’s really nothing.”

“It doesn’t have to be nothing though.” She said, getting up and walking over and he straightened, tensing.

He took a step back but she ignored that. “Snorkmaiden, I really didn’t mean to-”

She took both of his paws in hers then, effectively shutting him up. They were rough like tree bark, nothing like Moomin’s, but warm too. His eyes were wide, and when he took another step back she followed.

“Nothing happened.” He breathed quickly. “Really in fact, I think nothing ever happened or ever will. I do know how much he adores you and you adore him and surely you know I only wish to be a good friend-”

Snufkin was rambling now, voice just a tiny bit desperate and Snorkmaiden couldn’t help but think herself cruel. Of course she could remedy that.

His lips were soft. She pressed against them firmly, so there might not be another misunderstanding as to her intentions now, and he swallowed any other words as she did so, nuzzling against him slightly.

When she pulled back she couldn’t tell if his face was just that red or if it was the glow of the campfire.

“What was that?” He nearly squeaked, blinking numbly at her.

“It was a kiss, dummy.”

“Was it?”

Snorkmaiden glared at him, annoyed. She had quite forgotten kisses were probably not the same for a Mumrik as they were for a Snork or Moomintroll, but he had seen her do this with Moomin enough times to know, surely.

So she did it again, light and feathery and he closed his eyes, pressing into the motion, his paws still clasped in hers. She could hear the frantic movements of a tail swaying side to side rapidly but didn’t know if it was his or her own.

“Moomin?” He whispered, uncertain, once they pulled back. Snorkmaiden smiled.

“Oh, I think he will be quite pleased with the whole ordeal.”

Snorkmaiden wasn’t the type of person to think she was always right. Others might think she was self-absorbed at times, but really she only was in a round-about way. Things concerned her if they involved her and otherwise they were rather tedious.

The sun was still bright and the weather warm and lively for late autumn, though the trees had already changed hues to breathtaking colors. The flowers now were late-bloomers, the air heavy with their scent.

Snufkin shifted in the grass. Snorkmaiden didn’t know if he was sleeping or not, his hat discarded somewhere to the side, but he looked very comfortable with his head resting in Moomin’s lap. The troll was idly playing with their boyfriend’s hair, which was becoming quite long now.

She leaned against Moomin’s side, shoulder to shoulder and he turned to her and nuzzled her cheek for a moment. Then she leaned forward and booped Snufkin’s nose, just because she could.

“I can’t believe autumn is already ending.” She sighed, as he opened his eyes to look at them for a moment. “And then you’ll be leaving.”

He hummed in answer, closing his eyes again and then smiling slightly. “I will have to write two goodbye letters this year then, I suppose.”

“Or just one addressed to the both of us.” Moomin said matter-of-factly, then adding slyly. “A grand love declaration, with a poem and everything.”

Snufkin made a non-commital noise, using one hand to shield his face from the glaring sun, though it was more likely he was trying to hide his blush again.

He still wasn’t very used to that word, even in reference to their newly blossoming relationship. Snorkmaiden knew it would only be a matter of time though.

“As long as you be careful in watching out for yourself.” She said. “Then we will be watching out for each other. And missing you terribly.”

Snufkin didn’t comment, but it was clear that he knew. Next spring, there would be two people eagerly waiting for him to return.

#moomin #moominvalley #snufkin #snorkmaiden #snufmin #snormin #snoomin #i don't know what all the relationship tags are send help #my writing #prompts #Snufmaiden

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metalslimes · 5 years

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Zevwarden week day 2: Wardens Gift

i know its the last day of the event and im just now posting day 2 but whatever

ao3 link

It had been three days since Arl Eamon had begun his recovery, thanks to The Urn of Sacred Ashes, and Arren was itching to get back on the road. After the events outside of Haven the rest of his group was concerned for his well being. One doesn’t just kill their tainted near-bonded without any repercussions. But Arren’s wasn’t one to voice his emotions like that, he didn’t want to worry anyone, which, of course, just made them even more so. The rest of the group wanted to relax a couple of days in Redcliffe. Arl Eamon had graciously offered them each a room in his castle and they were all eager to sleep in real beds. Except Arren, who just wanted to get back on the road. He never liked cities, and he had a hard time sitting still, especially when he was trying to avoid thinking about something.

He had spent the first day catching the Arl up on recent events and making plans for the foreseeable future, but after that he was left to wander the town and surrounding area while the rest of his team took a well deserved break. Arren did whatever he needed to to stay busy in the day; helping around the village, training, hunting, entertaining the children, anything. At night he was quieter than normal as his friends dined in the castle, frequently sneaking out to walk around the town. Tonight however, he spoke his mind.

“It is time we continue our task, we have much to do. Tomorrow morning we should leave.”

“Agreed.” Sten nodded, arms crossed. “We have spent too much time here.”

Alistair dramatically sniffled. “Goodbye soft bed, goodbye actual meals…” But he knew his fellow Warden was right, so he would only mildly object. Surprisingly, it was Zevran who pushed his preference against Arren’s word.

“Actually, dear Warden, could we perchance stay another day or two?” Though he tried to play it off casually by reclining in his seat, Arren could tell he was nervous about making such a request. Did he worry he was being out of line? He had been travelling with the rest of the group for near two months, he had earned his trust and should speak his mind. Of course, Arren couldn’t just give in because he had a soft spot for his fellow elf. Instead he gave Zevran a curious look.

“What for?”

“I seem to have gotten myself into quite the situation, and I would hate to leave loose ends,” he replied vaguely, though he didn’t shy away from Arren’s stare.

“A situation.”

“Is this a situation you’d like to share with the rest of the class? Perhaps we could help.”

“No no, I’d much rather do this on my own. It should not take much longer.”

“Oh? Does this happen to involve the pretty blonde from the tavern?” Leliana smiled teasingly. “You have been spending an awful lot of time with her.” That got Arren’s attention, though he was quick to hide any surprise or hurt. He knew what his relationship with Zevran was; it was recent and it wasn’t serious. Zevran had been very clear from the beginning that if they were to have a relationship, Arren must understand that it would not stop him from flirting with others, and occasionally, should he desire, sleep with them. The same would go for Arren. Arren had agreed, so why it made his chest feel heavy to hear Zevran wants to stay in town because of someone he met was beyond him. Of course, he could be getting ahead of himself, no one said they were sleeping together.

“Perhaps it does, my darling bard.” Zevran threw the grin right back at her, leaning on his elbow. “And perhaps you would like to join me tomorrow- permitting we get to stay that is.”

She scoffed, taking another sip of her drink. “I think not.”

“What say you Warden? Will you grant my request?”

Arren was quiet, debating it as he finished his food. Finally he nodded. “Two days at most. ��We leave at dawn on the third. Unless you finish early, tell us so we can go.”

“But of course.” Zevran’s grin widened as he excused himself. He lightly touched Arren’s arm as he passed, humming contently. Once he was out of the room Alistair turned to his fellow Warden.

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Doesn’t what bother me?”

“That! Aren’t you and Zev...canoodling? And he just asked to stay here longer so he could keep doing that with some girl at the tavern!”

“Did he now? From what I gathered he is simply taking care of some personal business. There may or may not be a pretty girl involved.”

“Oh there definitely is. Doesn’t it bother you that he flirts with everyone?”

“Not at all.” Which was...mostly true. The flirting he didn’t mind, yet… “Zevran has been nothing if not honest with me. I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to ‘canoodle’ with him. If he also wishes to canoodle with others I will not stop him, nor would he if I did.”

“But you don’t.” Leliana joined the conversation, watching Arren from behind her glass.

“No, that is not who I am. But I will not stop Zevran from being who he is, nor would I want to.” He stood, hands on the table. “I appreciate everyone's...concerns...with my relationship, but it is not needed. I trust Zevran and I trust that we will both act like adults should any conflict between us arise. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find something to do for the next two days.”

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As it turns out, he spent the next two days frequently on the roads around Redcliffe. Morrigan, Sten, himself, and his Mabari Falon’din often hunted and trained together, not caring for the city life. Or in Falon’din’s case, just following his master. Arren would wake in the morning to Zevran getting out of bed. Once or twice they ran into each other either in town or at the castle. They’d all have dinner together, then Zevran would leave again, not coming back until well into the night. When prompted about his day the Antivan would shrug.

“I will be having more drinks with the lovely lady at the tavern our dear bard mentioned.”

“I have almost finished my business here, just one more day my Warden.”

“Worried are we? Fear not mi amor, no one in this town would touch any of their heroes.”

Arren decided not to push his luck. He trusted Zevran, and he was allowed to do whatever he wanted with his day. Yet he was clearly hiding something, and that hurt for some reason the Dalish was not ready to sift through. He had far too much else to worry about.

Alistair was a surprisingly good comfort to Arren in Zevran’s stead. Of course he thought of Alistair as a brother and turned to him for advice frequently, but something this personal was better handled by someone better with words. Perhaps it was how Arren had helped his fellow Warden after Duncan’s death, but Alistair was quite the support as Arren grieved his dead clansmate. He would push for Arren to talk about it, but knew signs of when to back off well enough. With Zevran gone most of the time, Arren turned to Alistair for the nitty gritty Warden and taint related truths and comforts, to Leliana for something more idealistic, and Wynne when he just needed to be around someone.

For now though, all he needed was a bit of space and silence. Arren laid on the roof of the castle, arms behind his head as he stared at the stars. He recited Elven constellations and their stories to himself, keeping them fresh in his mind. His ear flicked as he heard quiet footsteps, though he didn’t look up at his sudden companion. Instead, he pointed up at the sky.

“Do you see the one that looks like a halla? See her front legs in the air, and her head held high? That is Equinor, Ghilan’nain’s constellation; the mother of halla.” His companion hummed, laying next to Arren to join him in his stargazing.

“The stallion, yes?” Zevran spoke fairly quietly, it felt wrong to speak at a normal volume. “I always thought horses were to Tevinter’s, what dogs are to you Fereldon’s.”

“Constellations have many stories. Alistair tells me that the Gray Wardens say it is a griffon sitting, not a horse or halla.”

“Speaking of many stories, I assume you did not share any at dinner, since Wynne says you did not attend?”

“Apparently neither did you.”

“No, I was finally able to wrap up my business here.”

“Good. We can leave tomorrow then.” Again Zevran hummed, and the two fell into a peaceful quiet, enjoying eachothers company. Yet when Zevran reached for Arren’s hand, the other elf flinched slightly. Zevran faced his leader, an eyebrow raised. When Arren remained silent, refusing to look at him Zevran sighed.

“I had hoped our little groups mother had been wrong in her scoldings tonight, though perhaps she was not. She tells me I have been neglecting you. That while I am free to make my own choices, I should consider how they affect others. You recently lost your Bonded, then in your time of need I spend my days in a tavern with another. I see how that could be taken, and I want to assure you that nothing happened between her and I.”

Taking a deep breath, Arren’s eyes remained on the stars. “It would be fine if something had. I know the terms of our arrangement. I have been coping fine on my own.”

“Ah, but you should not have to, mi amor. I would hate to assume, but I also like to fancy that I have a special impact on those around me. I fancy thinking I have a special impact on you. I know you do not like to voice such things, but if you need me, for any reason, I implore of you to act on those needs.”

Arren turned his head, expecting to find a smirk at what could very easily be considered an innuendo. The sincerity and slight concern he found in Zevran’s soft smile instead surprised him. He stared for a moment before returning the smile; smaller, and with more pain, but at least he was finally expressing himself more. He took Zevran’s hand, looking back up at the sky with him. After a moment Zevran sat up, prompting Arren to do the same.

“Ah! I nearly forgot! The reason I have been so absent, my business here with the woman at the tavern; it is a gift for you, mi amor.”

“A gift? You didn’t have to do that Zevran.”

“After all you have given me and the others in our little group of misfits? No, I did not. But I wanted to.” The Antivan reached into a small bag on his hip and handed a velvet pouch over. Arren looked between the pouch and Zevran a few times before slowly untying it and pulling out the contents. He gasped, staring at the wood carving in his hand; stylized tree with carvings resembling a hare, a hawk, and an owl etched into the bark. Almost tentatively he ran his fingers across the small statue.

“Zevran...where did you-” He stopped as Zevran put a hand over his, the other tilting Arren’s chin up to make him look at him.

“Ir su arvel tu elvaral u na emma abelas…” He spoke slow and clunky, his accent making him put emphasis in the wrong spot, but even spoken in such a way Arren recognized the lines from the Elven song. Long journeys are made longer when alone within. “I know you have been through much, you are away from your clan and surrounded by shemlem. You are made to be the strong and silent leader and make life changing decisions. But you are not alone mi amor- ma vhenan.”

In the next moment Zevran was knocked back on the roof, practically tackled by Arren. He grunted in surprise when he felt the others lips on his own. Before he could react more than that the other pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead on Zevran’s. Arren was not one to show emotions often. In fact, the only other time he had seen the Dalish so worked up was when he saw Tamlen. Twice. But here he was, eyes closed, smiling softly, brows upturned, and whispering things Zevran couldn’t understand in Elven. Slowly Zevran lifted a hand, brushing Arren’s hair out of his face and caressing his cheek.

“Ma serannas, ma vhenan…for everything…” Softer this time, they kissed again. When Arren leaned back this time, he got off of Zevran, examining the statue once more. “Where did you get this?”

“Well! The first night here when I went for a drink, I saw a Dalish woman on her own. I knew you were in a difficult place, so I asked her for help in ways to cheer you up. I told her how you like to make wood carvings, and she suggested making you a place of worship to bring with us on our journeys. I wanted to serenade you, but settled for learning a sentence or two in Elven instead.” He sat up, shrugging. Arren leaned against his partner.

“It’s perfect Zevran...thank you.” They sat together quietly for several minutes, enjoying eachothers company, until Arren spoke again. “You know...I would have liked to meet this Dalish woman.”

“Perhaps I did not wish to share you, hm?” He laid back on the roof once more, pulling Arren down with him. “But let us not talk of others. Why don’t you tell me more about this Ghilan’nain, and your Andruil.”

Arren spent his last night in Redcliffe wrapped in his lovers arms, telling grand tales of the Elven Gods, not despising the town quite as much anymore.

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #zevwarden week 2019 #zevwarden #zevran #zevran x warden #zevran x mahariel #mahariel

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shitkpopmemes-blog · 6 years

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Toy box

A/N: I tried to post this earlier and it froze my laptop for some reason. Also sorry this took a while to write but i made it a bit longer than originally planned so I hope you like it

You wouldn’t normally snoop around your boyfriends stuff, but this you were kind of shocked to find. It wasn’t like you were purposefully looking through his stuff, you just sort of… stumbled across it… literally. You knew he was into this kind of thing but for some reason he never showed or talked about it with you, as if you were too soft to handle it. He clearly didn’t mind you knowing or else he wouldn’t have left a vibrator on the floor, but his lack of communication about it was starting to frustrate you in more ways than one. That’s when you called on the only person you knew you could ask about this kind of thing.

You invited over you friends who non-coincidently were a few of the other boys girlfriends along with a few others. The boys were out at practice for the night then had a company meeting so would be gone all evening, perfect chance to ask your friends about the situation. They were the only people you could trust more than anyone so it didn’t bother any of you to bring it up, especially after a couple of drinks. “Alright so what if the boy is kinky?” Hyejin said after downing another glass of wine, good thing Jimin had the same alcohol tolerance as her, “Just because he asks you to call him Daddy once doesn’t mean he is kinky Y/N.” Mina spoke and you just sighed before standing up and walking over the the box that was on your table, dumping its contents onto the floor in the middle of the circle you had created. Everyone’s eyes went wide at the toys that came out, ranging from vibrators, dildos to ropes and collars. “Oh dear lord. You’re poor vagina.” Lisa whispered while taking another sip of wine, clearly not being drunk enough for the situation. “What even is half of this shit?” Mina asked while picking up one of the various toys, immediately dropping after it began to pulsate in her hand, “I don’t know. He never told me about any of this.” You explained while trying to put some of it back into the box. “Wait you mean, he has never used any of this on you?” Taeyeon asked, her face completely shocked, “Maybe he uses it on himself.” Hyejin laughed out and you hit her on the arm in retaliation. “What it was just a suggestion.”, “A stupid one.” You mumbled before sighing.

You were trying to think of reasons why he wouldn’t tell you about this but it only filled your mind with doubts. What if he just wasn’t attracted to you like that? What if he thought you would leave him? “I think that he doesn’t see me in that sexy way. I’m just cute to him. Fragile.” You explained and everyone groaned, “You need to show him that your sexy then. Prove to him that you can take it otherwise it’s never going to happen.” Mina explained and Lisa agreed. “Yeah but how am I meant to do that?” You asked, “Well what does he do that you find sexy? Try mimic that.” Hyejin suggested and you just laughed, “Oh yes let me just slam him into a wall and tell him that he is mine.”, “I mean if that works for you.” Hyejin also laughed and Lisa was just staring at the both of you in shock. “You need jesus. My precious child has been tainted. I blame you Hyejinnie.” You were trying to pack all of the things back into the box to put away before Jungkook came home, not realising that one was still left out. “Okay so plan to get Y/N that good dick is under way.” Mina cheered out excitedly while strutting over to your room and flinging open your closet. “Alright where are they?”, “Where’s what?” you asked, you and the two others taking a seat on your bed watching as Mina searched far into the back of your clothes. “Your lingerie. We all know you have at least that black set I brought you for your birthday.” She explained before pulling out a small box of your own full of all your underwear.

“You brought that as a joke.” you replied and she just shook her head, “Yes but now it can finally get put to good use. Now ladies, Red or black?” she said while present two sets of lingerie to the group in those colours. Without the alcohol in your system, not that it was enough to make you drunk, but it was enough to influence your decisions, you would have been embarrassed about presenting your underwear to your friends like this. “Red is sexier.” Lisa said, contributing even if she found the situation a little awkward, “Yeah but black suits you better. It’s also slimming.” Hyejin added. “Are you implying that i’m not slim?” You joked, “You look like a bagel.” Lisa said earning you to throw a pillow at her which she swiftly dodged. “Alright then, black it is. But what do I do with this?” You asked while taking the set from Mina’s hands, “Wear it when he gets back, then when things get intimate tell him that you know.” Hyejin explained but you shook your head. “No that will never work. First of all he will probably be too tired when he get home to do anything also I can’t just bring it up like that.” The girls sighed at your lack of cooperation, “Come on girl. Excuse the bluntness but do you want him to tie you up and fuck you into next week until you can’t walk or not?” Hyejin said and Lisa gasped, “Hyejin, what the fuck?”, “I said excuse the bluntness. I’m serious Y/N. If you don’t tell him that you know, it will only get worse when he finds out you have been keeping it from him.” She said. Even being the second youngest out of you, she still seemed to always know what to say, even if it was a bit vulgar. “I mean. She has a point.” Lisa added and Mina nodded her head. “Wait did Lisa just agree with my advice for once.” Hyejin said overdramatically causing Lisa to roll her eyes, “Can you say it one more time so I can record it.”, “No.” You laughed at the two of them before you’re phone went off.

“Hello?” you said realising you forgot to check the caller ID, “Hey baby. We just finished up so should be home in like 30 minutes.” Jungkook’s voice rang through and you could see Mina mouthing if it was him to which you just nodded, holding back a laugh as they waved the underwear at you once again. “Okay babe, see you soon.” You said before hanging up. “Okay all of you leave. I need to get sexy.” You said ushering them all out of you room and helping them all grab their stuff. “Aw my baby is finally gonna get the dick she deserves.” Hyejin joked while wiping fake tears from her eyes, always so dramatic, “and all thanks to you.” you said sarcastically before letting them leave. As soon as the door shut behind them you ran towards you room to slip into the black set that they had picked out, making sure that your hair and makeup was still fine from earlier. You’re heart raced slightly as you heard a car pulling up the driveway, you knew he had a key so it was just a case of waiting for him to walk in and then you could begin your plan. “Baby?” you heard Jungkook voice echo through the house followed by the sounds of the door shutting and keys jingling. “I’m in the bedroom!” you called back before laying down to get comfortable on the bed in an attempt to act natural… an attempt. Now you didn’t notice that you had left one of Jungkook’s many toys just laying on the ground on the living room and oh how you would be so grateful that Kook came back alone, he notice the pink plastic just peeking out from the side of the sofa as he headed to the room. As soon as he was close enough to see what it was his eyes grew wide, you had found them.

He hadn’t told you about this Kinkier side of him in fear that you would think it was strange and leave him. He wanted to ease you into it, or perhaps forget about the idea altogether if it was something you really hated but he couldn’t just bring it up in conversation and there was no other convenient time to talk to you about it. Plus, he was shy, dominant, but shy. He picked up the vibrator that you had left before making his way to the bedroom where you were. As soon as the door opened, so many emotions and expressions flew around the two of you. At first Jungkook was about to ask about the toy but stopped as he saw what you were wearing, had you done this on purpose. He wore a smug smirk while you on the other hand had wide eyes and was carrying a heavy blush across your face at the fact that he now knew you had seen the toys he had. “I can explain.” you said while standing up from the bed and making your way over to him, almost forgetting that you were basically naked, only wearing sheer fabric which just made Jungkook bite his lip at the sight. “Was my little kitten needy while I was gone?” He whispered, his words lingering in the air and sending shivers down your spine. “No. I just- I found it. And I just- Why didn’t you tell me you were into super kinky shit?” you finally managed to blurt out and Jungkook just laugh at how red your face was getting, “I didn’t want to make you feel as if you had to be just because I was.” Jungkook explained with a shrug as if he hadn’t been shitting himself that you would find out since you moved in together. “You could have just told me.” You explained while placing a kiss to his lips, “I see that now. Where did you get this though.” Jungkook muttered onto your lips, his hands running across the lace fabrics across your skin. “Mina got it for me.” You said with a shrug.

He hummed against your lips, deepening the kiss, “I hope it wasn’t too expensive.” He whispered as he began to walk you backwards, you weren’t really sure in which direction, you were too distracted by his lips and wandering hands. “Why?” You asked, pulling away just in time to see Jungkook’s eyes darken significantly as he brought his lips to your ear, his voice dropping several octaves, “Because I’m going to rip it off you. Piece by piece.” He practically growled, pinning you to the wall before bringing his lips to your neck, sucking dark marks into the sensitive skin causing you to whine, grabbing at the hair at the nape of his neck. This only prompted Jungkook to grab both of your wrists, swifty locking them above your head, “No touching yet. Or do I need to tie those pretty little hands together.” He spat out, his tone harsh but it was all in good nature. You loved how helpless you felt against his but also how he made you feel safe all at once. You couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of his lips and teeth as they drag across the expanse of your neck and collarbones littering them with love bites while his hands rubbed and grabbed at every bit of your skin. Eventually his stopped his attack on your neck, his lips slightly swollen as he looked into your eyes like he was trying to burn a hole in them, “Get on your knees. Now.” He said and you were ready to drop to your knees in a second but decided it would be more fun to tease him a bit. While looking him dead in the eyes you slowly made your way to your knees, going to reach for his belt when he roughly grabbed your wrist, “What did I say about touching kitten? Little slut can’t keep her hands to herself, can she?” He said, pulling of his own belt and holding it out, “Hands up.” He ordered and you obeyed this time, you couldn’t help but feel slightly turned on as he wrapped the leather around your wrists before removing his jeans and boxers.

You had never seen him so hard, it almost looked painful. His tip was already leaking with precome and you would be lying if you said you didn’t find the sight arousing, you could feel yourself growing wetter by the second. You looked up at him and he could almost cum at the sight, you on your knees looking up at him with those beautiful innocent eyes while your mouth hanging open ready to suck him off. He gave you a nod of approval and you were quick to bring his tip into your mouth, the taste of his precome filling your mouth and making the slide easy as you took him further. You heard him take a harsh breath as you took him fully into your mouth, your nose nuzzled into the skin of his hips, the sound of you gagging only turned Jungkook on more, watching the string of saliva that connected your lips to his dick still even as you pulled off. You were pushing your luck but you loved it as you refused to take his length again, only wrapping your lips around his head and giving kitten licks to his slit. “Such a bad little Kitten, you will get punished after this.” Jungkook mumbled between moans before forcing you back down his length by the hand he now had pulling your hair. You just kept your jaw slack, not really registering when he stopped moving your head to just fuck your mouth instead but you didn’t care. Jungkook praise your lack of gag reflex and ability to hold your breath like this as he mercilessly fucked your throat. He would have loved to cum in your mouth, maybe a bit over your face watching you lick up the white substance like the little kitten he loved to call you but he was too distracted when he noticed you were rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to give yourself some relief but he wasn’t having that.

He quickly pulled himself out of your mouth, “Get up.” he spat up and you quickly got up on shaky legs to stand at his height, well almost his height. “My little kitten is a greedy one aren’t you?” He whispered while pulling you gently over to the bed, his grip completely contrasting how he was with you moments ago and how he will continue to be with you for the rest of the night. “I think it’s about time this came off.” He said, his fingers grazing over the panties you were wearing, without even a second of thought the ripping of fabric echoed through the room leaving you bare as he did the same to your bra. You let out a gasp as the cool air hit your now exposed skin but that wouldn’t be a probably soon as Jungkook pulled you over his lap so that you were straddling his thigh. “Hmmm my pretty baby is so wet for me.” Jungkook said, he could feel your arousal along his skin. You were trying so hard not to move your hips as he places a harsh slap against your ass. “Now I want you to ride my thigh until you are crying for me to let you cum. You understand that?” You nodded ad his words but that only earn you another hard spank,this time he held onto the flesh, “Words Kitten.” He urged and you swallowed harshly, “Yes Jungkook.” Another slap, “That won’t do. Tonight you call me Sir”, “Yes Sir.” You quickly began to rub yourself against his thigh as he had requested, the feeling of his tensing muscles sending pleasure straight through your body and you let out a loud moan, more like a whimper. It was at that moment you came to realise that you hands were still tied together with his belt, the leather beginning to burn against your skin as you tried to move. You just wanted to touch him. Jungkook only laughed at the sight of you struggling, holding hard onto your hips to guide you back an forth, giving you a spank everytime you tried to slow down but pull you away every time he felt you growing close to your release.

You clenched your fists and bit you lip till you tasted blood as you furiously tried to reach your high but once again Jungkook would hold you still, you body constantly on the edge but never tipping was like a thousand fires in your veins. “Oh god, Sir please.” you whined out, the tears were forming in your eye, actually you were sure they were already falling as Jungkook’s thumb came to wipe over your cheek, “What do you want Kitten?” He asked and it took you a moment to form the words as you stuttered out, “Want you.” He stopped you’re movement all together to whisper in your ear, “Cute. But I’m in control tonight Kitten. You’ll take what I give you and you will thank me for it. On the bed, face up.” He said, pushing you off his thigh so you could do as he asked, finally taking his shirt off in the process. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight, his abs shining with sweat. You rested your head on the pillow watching as Jungkook pulled out the box you had hidden back in place, searching through it until he found what he wanted. You remember Lisa holding it earlier, a vibrator which he turned on, starting slowly. You wanted nothing more than to rub your thighs together and touch yourself, but Jungkook roughly pushed them apart rubbing the toy over the skin of your thighs, his lips following behind leaving more love bites there. He purposefully ignored your dripping cunt as he moved around over your stomach making you arch your back. He dropped the vibarator back down to your thighs but his kissed continued up until he met your lips, that’s when he finally pressed it to your clit, swallowing the loud moans as he showed no mercy turning it to the highest setting straight away. This kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth as you moans and squirmed, your wrists burning as you tried to reach for him once again. You legs were kicking wildly in the air as you tried to move your hips against the toy. Jungkook moved away just to plant your hips firmly to the mattress, grabbing another belt to tie your feet together, the vibrator balanced in place.

He stood back to admire you, hair covering your face, eyes squeezed shut as you helplessly moaned out for him. “Beautiful.” He whispered, tempted to walk away and leave you there, but his dick was become painfully hard and he too wanted release. He held himself back for a few minutes, watching your body rock in pleasure, tears rushing down your face, until he heard what made him snapback to reality. “Kook. P-please.” you stuttered out and you were smirking. He immediately pulling the vibrator away, crawling over your body. “You just can’t get enough slut. Always pushing your limits.” He growled out as he roughly untied your feet only to throw them over his shoulders to thrust into you without warning. The stretch burned but then everything felt like it was on overdrive. You skin was so sensitive as Jungkook began to roughly pound into you with no signs of stopping. “What’s my name?” He asked harshly between thrusts, you barely even registered what he said, too overthrown by the pleasure as you whimpered out, “Sir.” He finally decided to untie your hands and they immediately flew to his back, leaving angry red scratch marks down the skin as he fucked into you with no remorse. He brought his hands up to your throat, squeezing tightly and you moaned out, gripping at his wrist to go harder. “Say it louder. Scream my name kitten.” He was growing close, his thrusts were rapid and sloppy, but so were you, so much so that as he squeezed his fingers around your throat just ever so slightly tighter you were clenching hard around his dick, you could only see white as you screamed, “Sir. Shit oh-” Your legs were violently shaking as he continue to ride out your high, still reaching for his own and you were quickly thrown into overstimulation. “Fuck, Kitten. Just a little more, you can take it.” Jungkook moaned out and with a few more thrusts he was was cumming hard into your aching walls.

You whimpered as he pulled out, folding in on yourself as you felt both of your releases leak from your entrance, breath heavy. After he cleaned you up he laid beside you, pulling you into his chest, his heart rate was just as rapid as yours. “You did so well kitten.” He whispered into your hair while rubbing the skin of your hips were bruises were beginning to form, it was gonna hurt a lot tomorrow but you were too blissed out right now to care. Jungkook continued to stroke even as your breathing evened out and soft snores filled the room, and he felt himself dozing off too. He placed a kiss to your forehead whispering a soft, “I love you.” Before joining you in slumber.

#bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts #bts namjoon #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts jin #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook #bts angst #bts x reader #oneshot

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galwednesday · 7 years

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I wish you would write wholesome Shrinkyclinks! Modern AU or WS!Bucky or anything :) especially anything where people take Bucky as super intimidating and seemingly Not For Steve but he's actually soft-spoken and embarrassingly in love with his bf. Also inspiration art, take out the parentheses: coldcigarettes(.)tumblr(.)com/post/155362763256/you-know-how-i-never-do-comics-well-ive-done-one

What I ended up with is a little askew from the prompt, but it is Shrinkyclinks with besotted WS!Bucky and people being surprised Steve is his boyfriend, just with the surprise going the other direction.

Sam did one more circuit in the air just to confirm that everything was under control. The wannabe-despot of the week was being loaded into the back of a SHIELD van in handcuffs, and the three bioengineered chimeras she’d released in Central Park were all safely contained. They were part hyena, part cat, and part…actually, Sam had no idea what the hell was making them glow faintly purple, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t normal cat or hyena behavior.

Fortunately, the chimeras weren’t nearly as aggressive as their creator had hoped. Once the Avengers had herded them into a sunny area by a fountain, the chimeras had settled down to bask on the warm stone, ignoring their creator’s increasingly frustrated commands to make with the rampaging already.

“Can we keep them?” Clint was shooting boomerang arrows from the top of the fountain. One of the chimeras was lying on its back, batting lazily at the arrows passing overhead. “I’ll feed them and walk them and not let them maul any civilians, can we keep them, sir, pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“No,” Coulson said. Sam could see him standing by the SHIELD van, arms folded as he watched Clint.

“I want this one.” Natasha sat on the ground by the fountain, posture relaxed, apparently ignoring the chimera five feet to her left. The chimera ignored her back, except to twitch an ear in her direction.

“No,” Coulson repeated, but only after a pause long enough signal defeat.

Natasha rolled slowly onto her side. The chimera tracked the movement, then put its head down on its paws and half-closed its eyes. “I’m naming her Boadicea.”

“So we’re done here? We’re done here,” Sam said, and turned his comm off before he could get sucked into the argument.

He touched down outside the SHIELD perimeter, where Tony was shedding his suit like a lobster shucking off its shell one segment at a time. Each piece folded up neatly into the briefcase at his feet. The Winter Soldier was standing next to him, his face blank but calm.

The Soldier had been an official part of the team for a few months now. Sam still didn’t have much of a read on him. The Soldier had been invaluable during the whole Hydra/SHIELD clusterfuck, and that was enough to earn him a lot of goodwill, but just about the only things Sam knew about the Soldier were his fighting style and his call sign.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony greeted him. “Where are the spy kids? Let’s do post-battle brunch, I’m starving.”

“They’re trying to convince Coulson to let the mad science experiments follow them home.”

“Good luck to them, but God help them if they try to keep them in the Tower, Pepper put her foot down about pets. You buy out one animal shelter because the cages are too small and all the animals look sad and suddenly everyone thinks you’re a hoarder. I don’t get what the big deal was, we weren’t using that floor of the Tower for anything important anyway. Tacos?” Tony suggested. “I’m thinking that place by Fordham. BattleBot, you in?”

“Can’t,” the Soldier said, typing something into his phone. “I have a date.”

Tony stopped talking for an entire three seconds. “You. Have a date.”

The Soldier looked up and blinked, clearly nonplussed to find Sam and Tony both staring at him. “Yes.”

“With who?”

“My boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend. You have a boyfriend?” Tony looked like he’d just walked into a lamppost, and then the lamppost had handed him a birthday present.

The Soldier’s brow furrowed. “Is that a problem?”

“Hey, this isn’t disapproval on my face, this is flabbergast. Flabbergastness? Flabbergosity?” Tony waved a dismissive hand. “I’m just a teeny bit surprised, no need to do that thing with your face where your eyebrows try to merge with your nose. Details! I need details!”

“Tony,” Sam tried.

Tony ignored him. “Is your boyfriend also a former brainwashed Soviet assassin?”

“No.” The Soldier’s stance eased. His phone chirped and he went back to typing.

“I guess that was a longshot. Is he a Marine?”

“No.”

“A fireman?”

“No.”

“Mixed martial-arts instructor?”

“He’s a painter.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Tony demanded.

“Tony,” Sam sighed, but the Soldier was already holding out his phone. Tony barely resisted grabbing it. (People who grabbed things from the Soldier had a tendency to break fingers; granted, they were usually bad guys going for the Soldier’s weapons, but there was no telling exactly how the Soldier would react to a grab in a non-combat situation, and Sam for one would not want to be the first person to test it).

“That’s your boyfriend?” Tony said incredulously. “Him? No way. I don’t believe it.”

The Soldier’s eyebrows were advancing south again. “Why not?”

“Why not? Look at him, he’s adorable.”

“Yes,” the Soldier agreed, mollified.

Sam gave up on resisting his own curiosity and leaned over Tony’s shoulder. The Soldier obligingly held out his phone, which displayed a picture of a short, skinny guy with a neat blond crew cut. He was wearing a plaid flannel shirt and giving the camera a grin and a dorky peace sign.

“When are we meeting him?” Tony said. “Is it now? Can we meet him now? Does he like tacos?”

The Soldier gave them both an evaluating look. Sam tried to radiate friendly acceptance and not show that he was dying of curiosity almost as badly as Tony was.

“Yes,” the Soldier said eventually.

“Yes, he likes tacos, or yes, we can meet him now?”

“Yes.” The Soldier’s phone chirped again. He glanced at it and said, “He’s nearby. He’ll meet us there.”

The Soldier started walking. Tony and Sam fell in beside him, Tony throwing new questions at the Soldier with every step.

“Where did you meet?”

“JDate.”

“Seriously?”

“No.”

“Are you actually Jewish, though?”

The Soldier shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“Same.” Tony held out a fist. The Soldier bumped it without looking up from his phone. “How long have you been dating?”

“Five months.”

“Five months! You need to tell me these things, this is information I needed to know, I thought we were friends.”

“Why would you think that,” the Soldier said, so flatly that Sam was almost entirely sure he was joking.

“I’m hurt, Ice-T, I’m wounded and distraught. If I ask you about your sex life are you going to punch me?”

“Yes.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed in calculation. “With which arm?”

“You guys hear that?” Sam interrupted. Angry shouts were echoing down the street ahead of them. He put a hand down to the shield at his side to check its position, his wingpack a reassuring weight on his back. A particularly loud yell was followed by a loud thud and the sound of glass breaking, like a waiter dropping a tray of glasses. “What is that?”

A beatific smile spread across the Soldier’s face. “That’s Steve.”

“What?” Sam said, but the Soldier had already broken into a run.

The commotion was coming from the taco place. Sam rounded the corner at a jog just in time to see a tiny guy pick himself up from the ground and hurtle forward into a much bigger man’s kneecaps, tackling him to the sidewalk. The contents of a knocked-over recycling bin were spilling into the street, sprays of glass marking bottles that had broken on impact.

The Soldier dove swiftly into the tangle of bodies and hauled the big guy up by his collar. “What did he do?” he asked the other man.

“Got handsy with a server,” the man replied. His nose was bleeding, but he didn’t seem to notice. He grinned at the Soldier, and suddenly Sam recognized him. This was Steve? “You want to sit on him until the cops come?”

The Soldier put the man in an armlock and didn’t move an inch, no matter how much the man struggled, until the NYPD showed up. Sam adopted his most Captain America voice and reassured the bystanders that everything was under control. The crowd petered out once the fighting was over, not even the spectacle of three Avengers helping with a citizen’s arrest enough to meet New Yorkers’ jaded standards for a free show.

Once the cops had loaded the still-protesting brawler into the back of their car, the Soldier gave Steve a thorough once-over, eyes lingering on the smear of blood under his nose. He pulled Steve into a careful hug. Sam tried not to stare at the novel sight of the Soldier initiating non-violent physical contact. “Ribs?”

“Totally fine.” Steve gave the Soldier an extra squeeze before letting go. “What about you, did you get hurt at all?”

“Strained knee. Your nose is bleeding.”

“Shit.” Steve swiped at the blood under his nose, made a face at his messy hand, and gave Sam and Tony a little wave instead of trying to shake hands. The Soldier dug into one of his belt pouches and handed Steve a wet wipe. “Hey, you must be Bucky’s coworkers. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Tony said. It was more of a question than a statement. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

“Me,” the Soldier said.

Tony and Sam exchanged a look. Steve just cleaned his hands and threw the wet wipe away.

“Is that something we should call you, too?” Sam asked.

The Soldier shrugged. “Sure.”

“And hey, you should’ve said your knee was hurt,” Sam told the Soldier as they filed into the taco place–told Bucky, and that was going to be a weird adjustment. “We could’ve given you a lift.”

“It’ll heal,” Bucky said, entirely unconcerned.

“You guys shouldn’t rely on air support so much,” Steve said, eyes wandering over the menu. “Your team has so many fliers that it’s weakening your ground game.”

“Excuse me?” Tony said.

“You almost lost the third chimera when it went under tree cover because Iron Man and Captain America were both in the air, and Hawkeye and the Soldier were in elevated sniper stands. If the Black Widow hadn’t been in that quadrant already, the chimera would’ve made it past the SHIELD perimeter. Hey, Bucky, have you ever had mole?”

“No,” Bucky said. He was standing sideways in line, his back to the wall–and to Steve, Sam noted, who was apparently allowed inside his blind spot. “Is it good?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll like it. Want to split mole and pulled pork?”

“Yes.” Bucky slipped out of the line and went to stake out a booth.

“I know we make it look easy,” Tony said, “but saving the world on a weekly basis is actually kind of difficult, and we’re pretty good at it by now.”

“Oh, sure. All of you are brilliantly effective at what you do, but that means you’re not working as a group as well as you could. You’re all playing to your individual strengths instead of cohering as a unit. Hi, could I get one order of mole tacos and one of pulled pork?” Steve asked the cashier, his voice abruptly polite.

Sam distracted Tony with questions about Pepper’s latest gallery opening until they got their food and sat down. Bucky had managed to claim a corner booth by the kitchen and was sitting on the bench that faced the front doors. Steve climbed over his lap to get into the corner seat. Bucky slid a little further in after Steve sat down, in a move that Sam interpreted as 30% doting boyfriend seeking closeness, 70% bodyguard blocking potential lines of fire.

“Okay, so you think our ground game is weak.” Tony steepled his fingers over his plate and narrowly avoided putting an elbow in the guacamole cup. “Elaborate.”

“You don’t need two fliers and two snipers on a five-person team. The Iron Man suit is a walking tank, Captain America’s shield is a perfect melee weapon, and Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier are both hand-to-hand combat experts. There’s no reason any one of you couldn’t fight in close quarters. You need to vary your approach before the people you’re fighting catch on and start staging battles in places where long-distance engagement is impossible.” Steve dragged the wadded-up tortilla end of his taco through a smear of sour cream on his plate and passed it to Bucky, who stuffed it into his mouth without comment. “Any time you can’t fight from the air, you’re at a real disadvantage. Bucky told me about what happened in the sewers last August.”

Sam’s face wrinkled at the memory. Clint had almost gotten eaten by an alligator-dinosaur-thing, and the smell had clung to Sam’s costume for weeks.

“Oh, you heard all about it?” Tony said. “Fine, bantamweight, lay it on me. What would you have done instead?”

Steve’s smile went sharp. “Well,” he said, and shoved everything out of the middle of the table. “For starters–”

Sam pulled his taco plate into his lap to keep it out of the way of the rapidly unfolding model of the sewers, which Steve assembled out of straws and sugar packets. Steve moved the salt and pepper shakers (Iron Man and the Winter Soldier) through the grid, while the straw wrapper (Black Widow) slipped ahead to provide recon and a plastic knife and spoon (Hawkeye and Captain America) guarded the exits. Tony challenged every call he made, and Steve pushed right back, questioning Tony’s assumptions and demonstrating his own reasoning. Sam ate his tacos and put in his own two cents whenever he could get a word in edgewise.

Sam’s attention was split between the conversation and surreptitiously watching Bucky. Bucky didn’t react to anything that was said, although Sam was sure he heard every word. He looked more relaxed than Sam had ever seen him, like the sound of Steve and Tony bickering was a zen meditation podcast.

“Huh,” Tony said, halfway through their fifth iteration. “You have a point.”

“Yep.” Steve sat back in his seat and stretched out his back, all that startlingly intense focus draining from his posture. It was amazing how quickly he went back to looking like a nerdy grad student. Sam might have been fooled, if he hadn’t just heard Steve argue Tony Stark to a standstill, and if Steve didn’t have dried blood ringing his nostrils.

“You said he was a painter,” Tony told Bucky accusingly.

“He is,” Bucky said. “He also has a PhD in history with a specialty in wartime tactics and strategy.”

“Seriously, how did you two meet?” Tony asked.

“I saved him from a mugger,” Steve said.

Tony stared at them. “I honestly can’t tell whether you guys are fucking with me right now.”

“I know,” Bucky said serenely.

“Hey, Steve, you want a job?” Sam asked, because unlike some people, he had his priorities straight.

“I already have a job.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you just pulled that analysis out of your ass, you’ve been thinking about this,” Tony said.

“How would you feel about working freelance?” Sam asked. “You could do strategy consulting, be our eye in the sky on missions–”

“Help keep your Bucky-boo-boo safe,” Tony interrupted.

Steve gave him a level look, then turned to Bucky. “I see what you mean.”

“I’m choosing to interpret that as a compliment,” Tony said.

“Yeah, okay, let’s talk terms. Churros first, though. You want churros?” Steve asked Bucky, who nodded.

“I could–” Bucky started, but Steve was already climbing over his legs to get out of the booth.

“I got it.” Steve leaned over the back of the booth and kissed the top of Bucky’s head. He didn’t have to lean down very far. “You take a load off, rest that knee.”

Tony watched Steve go up to the counter, then turned to Bucky. “Okay, nevermind,” he said. “I get it. He’s scrappy, huh?”

“Buddy, you got no idea,” Bucky said, and stole the half-eaten taco right off of Tony’s plate.

#ask game #shrinkyclinks #stucky #steve is the most annoying armchair quarterback in the world #and the most annoying thing of all is that he's right #so you might as well hire him #ws!bucky loves his tiny bananas boyfriend #roticanaitaco #my fic #ficlets and headcanons

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all1e23 · 6 years

Text

Heart & Soul [One-shot]

Title: Kitties & Bumps

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky acts like a dope, but a cute dope.

Warnings: Pure fluff.

A/N: ONLY READ THIS If YOU FINISHED THE SERIES. It will give away the ending if not. ;-) Nothing special. I just missed these two.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!*

Heart & Soul Masterlist

“Stardust?” Bucky called out the moment his boot his the wood floor of their foyer.

“‘Mega where are you at?”

Bucky took the stairs two at a time, panic setting in his chest. Y/n had texted him while he was on a call saying she wasn't feeling right and couldn’t wait for him to get home. The second he saw the message Bucky lost all sense of reason and any and all rational thinking was out of the window when he forced Sam to drive him home in the middle of their shift.

Y/n was laying on their bed, Gemini laying on her swollen stomach purring contently as she rubbed behind the kitty's ears. Her eyes went wide the moment Bucky appeared in the doorway to their room, he wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. The look on his face had her worried something happened to Sam or someone else in their makeshift family.

“Bucky!? What are you doing?”

“What am I doing here?” He asked as if she should already know the answer. The Alpha wandered around the side of their bed and put his hand on her belly, glaring at the hissing cat before settling a softer, sweeter gaze on his wife.

“You text me. You said you were feeling off. I called into the station and made you an appointment with the doc.”

Y/n really tried not to but she couldn’t help the laughter that spilled out. “Oh, my sweet Alpha. Of course, I feel off. I’m heavily pregnant and your daughter is sitting on a lung I think, ” She sighed, her voice filled with humor.

“Sitting on a lung?” He asked, eyes wide and panicked. “That’s not good! What if you can’t breathe?”

“Alpha,” Y/n chuckled.

“I’m talking to you. I think I can breathe just fine if I’m holding a conversation. I don’t need to go to the doctor. I just need cuddles, hm?” She held her arms out and made grabby hands for him to come and lay with her.

Bucky shook his head, “No, we’re going to the doctor.”

“But-”

“Omega.” His voice dropped just enough to make her shiver and almost immediately he regretted it.

“Just listen, please? I know I’m probably being crazy but, I - Let me be nuts, okay?” She stared at him with her brow raised and his shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry I used the voice. I didn’t mean to! I’m a little on edge. You can yell at me tonight and I’ll make dinner to make it up to you.”

Y/n smiled and held her hands out for Bucky to help her up, Gemini quickly jumping off her belly due to Bucky’s proximity. She slowly sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, gingerly getting to her feet.

“The damn cat shouldn’t be laying on your stomach.” Bucky griped and she rolled her eyes in response.

“She barely weighs anything. It’s fine, buck.” Y/n waddled her way to the closet where her boots were sitting, ready for her to slip on with ease. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the cat and the stupid cat narrowed her eyes right back as she stretched her claws into his pillow, pulling at the fabric and stuffing.

“I’m gonna toss you out the damn window you keep it up,” Bucky growled at the cat.

“What was that, Buck?”

“Nothing,” He said a little too quickly for Y/n’s liking.

“Let’s go. I don’t want you on your feet too long.” He walked towards her with this... look and she just knew he was going to try to pick her up and carry her down the stairs. This was getting out of control! She grabbed his hands when Bucky got within in reach and he frowned in response.

“What?”

“You’re not serious right now, are you? Oh my god. You are. James Buchanan Barnes! I can walk down the stairs!”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt!” He defended. “At least walk in front of me so I can catch you if you slip-”

“Get downstairs before I make you sleep on the couch.”

Bucky sighed heavily as he made his way to the stairs like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. He’s one hundred percent certain that damn cat snickered at him.

----------

“Okay, what do we have happening today?” Dr. Blake asked upon entering the examination room. “I hear there was… some complications?”

He met Y/n’s eyes over the chart and she could see the hint of humor glimmering in them. Bucky stood next to his Omega, holding her hand tightly in his left hand and his right sitting protectively over her bump. Y/n went to open her mouth but Bucky spoke up before she had the chance. “She was feeling really off and our cat was sleeping on her stomach. I can get rid of the cat if necessary.”

Y/n looked over at Dr. Blake and gave him an apologetic smile, subtly shrugging one shoulder.

“Well, let’s just see what’s going on.”

He sat down wheeling his stool over to her bedside across from Bucky and pulled the ultrasound machine over to the side of the bed, amused grin still on his face as he locked eyes with Y/n.

“Okay, how about we take a look? See how cute the little peanut is today?”

Over the last seven months, their doctor has become well versed with just how overprotective her Alpha was. He’s not the only overprotective Alpha the doctor has to deal with though. Just came with the job. She looked over at Bucky and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna have to move your hand if you want to see our baby girl.”

Bucky grumbled something under his breath and slowly pulled his hand away but stood up to his full height, towering over the doctor and it only made Y/n shake her head. He watched every single thing Dr. Blake was doing. He knew, knew he was being crazy, but the Alpha part of his brain was in overdrive. As he has always said, biology was a bitch.

Dr. Blake pulled up her shirt just enough to leave her baby bump visible ignoring the glaring Alpha standing over him. He pulled a bottle off the side of the cart and held it up for Y/n to see, giving it a little shake with an apologetic smile. She knew what he meant. It was about to get cold. She smiled in return but still let out a gasp when the cold gel hit her belly.

Bucky, however, wasn’t laughing.

His eyes were quickly slipping from blue to red and there was a soft growl coming from his chest. They went through this every time they came in for an appointment.

“Alpha?” Y/n squeaked from his side.

Bucky’s head immediately snapped towards her, red faded back to cool blue and the hard Alpha melted away the moment his eyes landed on hers. She was never going to get tired of watching the way he melted for her, from only his title slipping from her lips. If Tony ever asked, she would never ever admit that he was right all those years ago but she was absolutely the one in control.

“Let him do his job.” She purred softly, bringing his hand up to her lips and placing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “You know I’m perfectly safe with you here.”

He was so wrapped up in her sweet soft voice he didn’t notice their doctor already had the wand on her belly and had been taking pictures of their little girl.

“Want a sneak peek of the baby Barnes? She looks perfectly healthy and right on track.” Bucky turned his head just in time to the black and white image of their daughter on the screen and his worry was replaced with a huge grin. He slowly sat down next to his mate and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, placing a kiss to her temple as he tugged her shirt back down over her belly. Doc had seen enough if you’d ask Bucky.

“She’s gonna be cute isn’t she Alpha?” Y/n asked.

“Beautiful like her momma.”

Dr. Blake excused himself and gave the pair a moment alone. He knew, as well as Y/n, that this visit was more for Bucky than it was for her or the baby. She could feel the small movements and it helped give her a bit of peace when she had a moment of panic, but Bucky didn’t have that reassurance all the time and after everything they have been through, he had every right to worry over his girls. It would all calm down once she was there in their arms and he could see with his own eyes that everything was alright.

Or so she was telling herself.

“I’m sorry I’m being all… Alpha.” He sighed and let his cheek rest on top of her head, eyes stuck to the screen. “I can’t help it. I don’t want anything to happen to the two of you. What would my nights look like if I lost all my stars, huh?”

Y/n smiled and tightened her hold on his hand. “We aren’t going anywhere. You don’t have to explain anything to me. Ever. No more worries today though. She’s just fine. Look at her.”

“Yeah, I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “I guess we should get Doc back in here so I can say sorry for being a knothead.”

“You do this every appointment,” Y/n deadpanned. “I think he knows the drill by now. Glare. Growl. Apologize.”

“Smartass,” Bucky mumbled. “Oh! He didn’t say if having a cat was okay.”

“Buck, lots of people have cats while they are pregnant.”

“I can get rid of her easy peasy, stardust. I’m sure someone would want a cat that destroys everything they own.”

“Alpha! You are pushing your luck today!

#alpha!bucky x omega!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #alpha!bucky #cop!bucky #heart and soul series

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lady-zephyr · 6 years

Text

Typhoon Ch.8

Well I can’t get into AO3 right now so I guess I can post the chapter here and link the AO3 page later. Oh yeah! There’s only one more chapter left so we’re in the home stretch. I have a pretty good idea of how I want it to go so I won’t leave you hanging for 2 more months to read it hopefully.

Rating: M

Words: 3182

T/W: Blood, bruises, abuse

Guzma fell backward with the force of Plumeria’s punch, backside meeting the carpet with a painful thud. His hands flew to his face to cup his nose and a shocked gasp escaped from his lips. He looked confused as he rolled onto his side, pushing himself onto one elbow. The hand on his nose moved away and he stared at it a second, checking for blood, before looking up at the angry woman towering over him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He protested. “Ya’ could’a broken my nose.”

“No, what the fuck is wrong with you, Guzma.” She was fuming. The fists clenched tightly at her sides twitched as she held herself back. “Look at her. What the fuck did you do?!”

A soft murmur began to grow throughout the house, the altercation not going unnoticed by the other occupants of the mansion. Doors cracked open just enough for black and white bandana covered faces to peek through. The masked individuals focused on Guzma and Plumeria, each wanting to get closer, but none brave enough to take the first step.

“Back to your rooms. NOW.” Plumeria barked. Doors slammed around the house as the grunts shut themselves away. As much as they may have wanted to watch what was about to happen, no one was dumb enough to disobey a direct order from the admin of Team Skull.

Turning back, Plumeria called you over. “Come here a minute.” You lifted your arms to put your shirt back on, but a Plumeria’s strong voice stopped you. “Leave it off. He needs to see this.”

With your head lowered in shame you approached the door way, stopping before you actually exited the room. Even though Plumeria had told the grunts to stay in their rooms, you didn’t want to risk exposing yourself in case someone dared to disobey. You stared at the floor, too embarrassed to look at Guzma directly.

“Look at her,” Plumeria said, “Did you even once think you might have been hurting her?” Fresh tears slid down your cheeks and your chest trembled as you held back a sob. You could feel Guzma’s gaze travel across your body, following every line and pausing at every bruise.

“Look, Plumes-“ Guzma began before being cut off abruptly.

“Shut up. She doesn’t need your excuses.” Plumeria leaned down and grabbed the collar of Guzma’s jacket, pulling his face close to hers. “Get the fuck out of here. And if I see you come near her again we’re gonna have a problem.”

She pushed him away, feeling a small twinge of sadness as Guzma fell back to the floor. Plumeria didn’t like getting physical with Guzma, but when he was in one of his moods, violence was the only language he understood. The way she saw it, he was getting off easy.

Placing an arm around your shoulders, Plumeria lead you back into her bedroom and shut the door. This time she didn’t stop you when you pulled the shirt over your head. She just motioned for you to have a seat on the bed and she sat beside you when you finally let out the sobs you had been holding back.

Placing your hands over your face, you finally gave in and let yourself cry – loud, ugly sounds you silently hoped Guzma was still around to hear. You cursed yourself for letting it get this far.

“This is all my fault,” you whispered between sobs, “If I would have just stayed put, none of this would have happened.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Plumeria said. “I don’t care what happened between you and the boss. He had no right to hurt you like this.” She looked toward the door, as if waiting for Guzma to come bursting through. “I have half a mind to go back out there and give him a taste of his own medicine.”

Your stomach rumbled loudly and you chuckled nervously. “Oh, right, I was on my way to the kitchen when you found me. I kind of haven’t had anything to eat today.”

Plumeria sighed and shook her head. “Ok. Stay here. I’m gonna go get something from the kitchen. When I come back we’re going to talk about this some more.”

She got up quickly and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. It was then that you decided you would tell Plumeria everything. Your reason for coming here, why you stayed, when you tried to leave … everything. Maybe if you explained, she could help you figure out what you were supposed to do now.

It was less than ten minutes from when the colorful haired woman left the room to when she returned with a bag full of cereal bars and bottles of water.

“Sorry. The power is still out and I didn’t really want to leave you alone for too long right now.” Plumeria said. She handed you the bag, and you picked through the contents taking what you wanted before passing it back to her. “So… you wanna talk about it?”

“Actually, I do.” You said. Opening a bottle of water, you took a drink, inhaled a deep breath, and started from the beginning. Before you knew it, an hour had passed and you were explaining the past day to your new ally. You didn’t tell her everything; after all she didn’t need to know some of the more intimate details, but as you finished your story Plumeria was once again fuming.

“Just who the hell does the Boss think he is?” Plumeria rose from her desk chair and paced around the room. She stopped in front of the door and crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “I would normally say he’s not really a bad guy, but there’s no way I can say that after hearing what you just went through.”

You turned your attention to the window beside the bed. Rain pelted the glass forcefully and through the onslaught you could see the palm trees being pushed around by the wind. If the second half of the storm lasted as long as the first half you were trapped for at least another day and a half in the Shady house. You didn’t know what to do. At this point, you desperately wanted to go home, but with the hurricane still in full blast it would be impossible.

Reaching back, you pulled a soft skitty poke-doll into your lap. Its face looked so happy with its wide grin and closed upturned eyes. You pull it close and rest your chin between its big fluffy ears, hoping Plumeria wouldn’t mind the action. Taking a deep breath, you could feel the tears welling up once again. You were so tired of crying, and tired of being stuck in this house full of people who couldn’t care less about your existence. Tears slid down your cheeks again and you tried your best to keep from sniffling too loudly.

“Mr. Skitt doesn’t like tears, you know.”

“What?” You ask, “Who’s Mr. Skitt?” As you turn your attention back to Plumeria, she moves to her desk and starts digging through the drawers.

“That doll you’re holding. He and Madame Lapras don’t like tears.” She pulls out papers, notebooks, and random odds and ends before finally finding what she’s looking for. She turns back and addresses you sheepishly. “Look, since the power’s out I don’t have much we can do. But I have a deck of cards, or some interesting books if you would prefer that instead…” Plumeria trails off, unsure of what else to say. She looks uncertain, as if she’s not used to being so kind. You sniffle before realizing what she’s trying to do.

“Oh, cards are fine I guess. I don’t really know any games though.” You give a nervous chuckle and sniffle loudly. Plumeria hands you a tissue box from somewhere on her now disorganized desk. She pulls the chair beside the bed and starts shuffling the cards.

“Ok, let’s start with something easy then. How about Go Fish?” She explains the rules and deals the cards. It’s an easy game and after a few minutes of playing you find yourself breathing easier, not thinking about anything but the cards in your hand. Before you know it, the game is over and she’s teaching you the rules to another, more complicated game. An hour passes, then another, and another. You break for a dinner that consists of more cereal bars and water. When it grows too dark to see the cards, Plumeria pushes aside the mess on her desk and lights a candle, the soft glow providing you some comfort.

Things have been silent for a while. It was too dark to play more games, but still too early to call it a night. Plumeria sits at her desk silently reading a book while you watch the raindrops splatter against the window. She turns a page and the paper rustles unusually loudly, but it gives you an idea.

“Hey, do you have a notebook I can borrow? And a pen?”

Plumeria sets down her book and digs through the pile on her desk. She pauses for a moment before handing you a black notebook, the front cover decorated with salazzle stickers; and the pen she hands you has a tiny plastic golbat attached to the top.

“There’s more pens in the top drawer if you need them. Different colors and stuff too.” Her face flushes red with embarrassment, and you realize she probably never lets anyone see this side of her. She has to put up a strong front to keep the house in order - seem more mature in order to protect the younger members. Even though she hasn’t said anything, you’re grateful that she welcomed you into her room and took the time to help you.

Smiling wide, you say thanks and begin to write. The rest of the night is spent organizing your thoughts and putting the feelings into words. The lines are disorganized, phrases jotted down as they form in your mind, and the more you write the better you feel. The rest of the evening is spent in silence punctuated by the turn of pages and the scribble of a pen.

----------------------------------------

You wake up alone with your hand loosely grasping the golbat pen. Plumeria had insisted you take the bed, but as you looked around she was nowhere to be found. Stepping out of bed, you stretch and wander over to the door, flipping the light switch to check if the power had returned. With no sign of electricity, you reach for the door and open it a few inches. The hallway is empty – no grunts, no Plumeria, no Guzma. A relieved sigh escapes your lips, and you close the door shutting yourself back into Plumeria’s room.

“Just one more day,” You say aloud, “I should be able to go home tomorrow afternoon.” You take your place back on top of Plumeria’s bed and reach for the notebook. Your thoughts are all there, now it’s time to organize them. You’re halfway through the first draft when the door swings open.

Plumeria strides into the room wearing a smug smile. She’s carrying a large serving bowl and the smell washes over you before you can see the contents.

“One of the grunts managed to reignite the pilot light on the stove. Hope you like pancakes.”

You smile brightly. Finally, your first real meal in almost two days.

“I brought you something else, too.” She sets the plate of pancakes down on her desk and slides the bag from her shoulder. You recognize it instantly. It’s your bag, and as you reach for it your heart beats excitedly. You reach in quickly, grabbing your pokeballs and releasing your team into the room.

It’s a tearful reunion, and after checking each of your team you pass the pancakes around. Plumeria releases her own pokemon and you watch as the two groups mingle and play. When your pokemon are finished eating and playing you give each one a hug before returning them to their pokeballs.

With your team back safely at your side, you turned back to the notebook Plumeria had lent you and continued to draft your letter. It took you the rest of the day, but as it was getting to dark to see, even by candlelight, you folded the page and addressed the other woman in the room.

“I need to ask a favor.”

“Let me guess, you want me to give that to Guzma.”

A pink blush creeped across your face as you nodded at Plumeria. “Please… please don’t read it.” You turned your head away, arm outstretched clutching the letter. Plumeria took the paper gently and rose from her seat.

“I won’t.” She walked to the door, before turning and looking back. “Anything you want me to tell him?”

“No,” You shook your head, “Just give him that, please.”

“You got it.”

As the door closed with a click, you lost your composure. Hands that had held the letter out to Plumeria only moments before began to tremble and your heartbeat pulsed loudly in your ears. Noticing your breathing picking up, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. You needed to calm down before you had a full on panic attack.

Not knowing what else to do, you wrap yourself up in Plumeria’s blankets and stare out the window. It’s too dark to see anything, but the rain still assaults the glass powerfully. In the quiet you can hear footsteps approaching the door. You throw yourself down quickly and pretend to be asleep. You don’t want to talk to anyone right now, even Plumeria.

“Hey, I gave your letter to-“ She stops when she sees the blanket cocoon. Whatever she has to say can wait for tomorrow. Sitting back at her desk, she retrieves up her book and picks up right where she left off. You feel bad for blowing her off - after all, she’s shown you nothing but compassion, but right now you really don’t want to talk.

It’s been one hell of a week and you decide you’re ready for it to be over.

You pull the blankets closer and stare at the candle light dancing on the wall. Plumeria turns the pages of her book with a continuous rhythm, and you think it sounds almost like the ticking of a clock. Between the sound of the wind and Plumeria’s pages you find yourself being lulled into a deep slumber.

------------------------------

This is it. You think. It’s time to go home.

The rain is still falling, and the wind has died down into a few lingering gusts holding onto the tail of the storm. You looked away from the window and back to the growing mound of clothes on Plumeria’s floor. A quick look at yourself in the mirror that morning had confirmed your worst fears – the bruises from Guzma weren’t going anywhere fast.

Most of the scratches hadn’t actually broken the skin so the red lines crossing your chest and arms had disappeared, but the bruises were a different story. While the marks on your arms were already beginning to fade to yellow, your chest was still decorated with splotches of black and blue. It would be impossible to hide from everyone for another week, and you really didn’t want to have to explain why you were covered in bruises to Acerola and the kids.

Plumeria had insisted she had a t-shirt that would fit you, but as she dug deeper and deeper into her closet you began to have your doubts.

“Aha!” She yelled. “There you go. One plain black t-shirt guaranteed to cover pretty much everything. I knew it was in there.”

You pulled the shirt over your head and looked at yourself in the mirror. It couldn’t hide the mark on your neck, but you could always lie and say you got hit by something in the storm. No one would question you about the hurricane. You smiled wide and turned back to Plumeria.

“Thank you so much. For everything. I don’t think I could have gotten through these last two days without you.”

“It’s still raining. Are you sure you don’t want to wait a little longer?”

“No offense, but I really want to go home and sleep in my own bed for a while.” You shrug your shoulders and sling your bag over your arm, making your way to the door.

The house is quiet as you follow Plumeria to the entrance hall, and you wonder if she warned the grunts not to leave their rooms today. The bright haired girl opens the front door to the mansion and hands you an umbrella. She pulls you into a hug before pulling away quickly.

“Look…” She pauses, Her right arm crossing over her chest to scratch nervously at her left arm. You can tell whatever she wants to say is difficult, “We might cross paths again you know… as enemies. The boss too…” She trails off searching for her next words.

“I understand.” You smile and reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I won’t go easy on you just because you helped me.”

“Take care.” Plumeria whispers. You nod and head through the door.

The umbrella offers little protection in the pouring rain, but you decide it’s better than nothing and continue onward. You’re relieved to find that the blockades have been mostly washed away or pushed to the side making your exit that much easier. You’re almost to the town limits when you hear footsteps heading toward you quickly. You turn in time to see Guzma come to a stop several feet away.

You stare at him, waiting for him to say something – anything.

His mouth opens and closes making him look like a floundering magikarp. The tension grows between you, but this time it’s Guzma who can’t get the words out. He hangs his head in defeat and a wave of sadness and relief washes over you. In a way you’re glad he remains silent. That way there’s no reason to approach him.

His shoulders droop with the rain and you follow the line of his arms down to his hands, where he’s clutching a familiar paper. It’s the letter you wrote to him. He sinks to his knees and brings his hands up to his face. You know he’s crying but the tears are washed away by the rain as quickly as they can fall.

Silently, you turn and continue on your way to the entrance of the town. The wind picks up in one final gust, making you pause and grip the umbrella tightly with both hands. You hear a sound then. It’s quiet and for a moment you’re not sure if it’s the wind or something else, but as you reach the edge of town you hear it again, louder and unmistakably sad. You pretend you didn’t hear it and break into a run, but the sound pulls at your heart.

”I’m so sorry.”

#guzma x reader #guzma #Pokemon sun/moon #fanfics #fan fiction

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minijenn · 7 years

Text

Universe Falls Chapter 49

AN-So its abuot time I fucking post this chapter on here, huh? What can I say, I’ve had a busy day :P But anyway, I gotta say I’m still quite proud of this one. It was a struggle for sure (and ridiculously LONG) But the parts of it that shine just shine so much! So if you haven’t already read it yet, enjoy!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/170522545399/universe-falls-chapter-48-part-2

Chapter 49: Northwest Mansion Nightmare

N PLWKERY TSTVVAESF VNB JBSARUX N FZGNERY URZC HY CLGLGZP OPKPWGPS R KVIEFVR HYXF PLGNTVK MOAC'V GRJVK ZAI EBTVK LVIIVTL GFHU FYKM PCDX AK FW

Northwest Manor was bustling with activity as its various staff and servants bustled about, preparing for the immaculate celebration held within its lavish gates. The aptly named Northwest Fest was by and large a legendary party, one that carried a very high reputation that extended far beyond the boarders of Gravity Falls alone. And like all the parties prior to it, this year’s formal event was rumored to be every bit as posh and elegant, if not then some, and those were exactly the kind of rumors that both Preston and Priscilla Northwest wanted circulating as they oversaw the preparations for the event.

“Preston, I must say, the guest list for this year’s party has so much diversity!” Priscilla remarked to her husband as she overlooked said list.

“Yes, a nice mix of millionaires and billionaires,” Preston nodded proudly as one of his many servants handed him the day’s newspaper. His calm manner abruptly shifted, however, upon noticing another servant incorrectly setting the nearby table nearby with fine china and pure silverware, which the billionaire was quick to correct with an admonishing swat with his newspaper. “Put the oyster fork at an angle! We’re not animals, man!”

“E-excuse me, Mr. Northwest?” another servant anxiously interjected, two other staff members hauling in a large covered glass case behind him. “T-those rare, uncut gemstones you ordered have arrived.”

“Ah, yes, good,” Preston said rather dismissively. “Let me see them.”

“Oh, uh, w-well, sir…” the servant continued, wringing his hands nervously as the other staff removed the cover from the case. “They… they’re not exactly what you ordered…”

“I’ll say they’re not!” the billionaire exclaimed hotly upon taking a look at the collection of precious stones before him. Instead of the smooth, radiant gems he had been expecting, these stones were clustered and clumped together with no real order or organization at all, giving each set a haphazard, almost even ugly appearance. “What on earth all these… hideous things!? I specifically ordered the finest raw gemstones available, not these grotesque chunks of rock!”

“Ugh, just look at them!” Priscilla interjected, quite mortified herself. “What will our guests think if they see those gaudy excuses for gemstones?!”

“They won’t be thinking anything because they’re not going to see them,” Preston staunchly concluded as he addressed the servant. “Take those back to the jeweler immediately and have them send us some real stones to put on display.”

“W-well, normally I would, sir, b-but… these were the last gems the jeweler had…” the servant gulped fretfully. “T-they said they found them buried not too far away from a canyon a few hours out from town and that they’re actually quite rare, but-”

“But nothing!” the billionaire huffed, quite displeased. “I suppose that since its far too short notice to get replacements, we’ll just have to put last year’s gemstones out on display like we’re a bunch of simple peasants! And as for those… unsightly hunks of rock… just put the entire case in some hallway that no one’s likely to wander down during the party. We’ll figure out what to do with those disappointments later.”

“Speaking of which, where the devil is-” Priscilla cut herself off upon spotting her daughter finally making a rather tardy appearance. All the same, Pacifica smiled brightly as she strode into the room, already clad in the sophisticated light green ball gown she planned on wearing to the party the following evening. Her mother, however, was far from pleased. “Pacifica! What did I tell you about that dress?! The theme for the party is sea foam green, not lake foam green! Go change!”

“B-but… I kind of like it…” the heiress frowned, having already anticipated this scolding. Still, she had hoped her mother wouldn’t have noticed when she had put the dress on, but clearly, Priscilla’s sharp eye for fashion beat her own tastes in this case.

“Mind your mother, Pacifica,” Preston gave his daughter a critical glance. Still, given the fact that this was a rather minor detail, Pacifica hoped that she could somehow win out in this debate, even if she knew her chances were rather slim.

“B-but I-” Her soft protests were succinctly cut off by the sharp, high ring of a small bell, courtesy of her father. A bell that she was all too familiar with and knew well to obey. “Y-yes, father…” she muttered meekly, glancing down in embarrassment for even trying.

However, before Pacifica could even head out to follow her parent’s rigid orders, the entire dining room began to shake as if it was being rattled by a major earthquake. And yet, this was no natural occurrence as the dining ware on the table began to clatter violently, a bizarre, undeterminable gale striking up solely inside of the room as everyone present gasped in terror over the alarming sight surrounding them.

“Oh no!” Preston exclaimed fearfully, well aware of exactly what was going on. “It’s… happening.” The billionaire didn’t have much more of a chance to react to this newfound catastrophe before the opulent objects filling the room, plates, forks, knives, spoons, trays, chairs, and more, all suddenly lifted up into the air, flying around at random as they seemed to launch themselves on their own accord. Many of the servants fled altogether as this dangerous cascade of inanimate items swirled around the room, but even so, Preston did his best to fend the attacking objects off, though to little avail. “You are my possessions! Obey me!” he ordered, only for several plates to go zooming towards him in particular. The billionaire let out a frightened cry as he joined his wife and daughter in hiding under the table in the hopes that it would shield them from this chaotic onslaught.

“This is a disaster!” Priscilla cried, aptly panicked as the silverware continued flying just overhead. “The party’s in just 24 hours! What are we going to do?!”

“Surely there’s someone who can handle this sort of nonsense!” Preston lamented, only for his cry to receive a timely answer as a copy of the newspaper flopped down onto the ground right in front of him. Its headlining article featured a giant bat attacking Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland atop the town’s bell tower. Though what stood out most was the young boy, roughly about Pacifica’s age, whom he had seen around town a handful of times this summer, fearlessly fending the bat off while the officers behind him cowered in fear. Clearly, from his brazen, undaunted expression, he seemed to be right at home warding away such supernatural danger, which was something that gave Preston a much-needed idea for how to handle the current plight the upcoming party was facing. “And I think I know just the person…”

Things had been rather uneventful around the Mystery Shack as of late, a welcome change of pace, particularly for Dipper as he used this relatively peaceful rainy morning as a rare chance to relax. He had already set up shop in the den, surrounded by a plentiful abundance of snacks and sodas to keep him company as he sat comfily in front of the TV.

“You asked for it, you got it!” the TV blared excitedly. “An entire 48-hour marathon of Ghost Harassers, on the Used To Be About History Channel!”

“Be strong, bladder. We’re not gonna move until sunset,” Dipper remarked, more than content to do just that. Until, of course, his plans quickly fell through.

“We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news!” the local town news commandeered the broadcast, deviating away from the ghost hunting marathon, much to Dipper’s immediate disappointment.

“Aw, what?” he frowned crossly, only for Mabel to suddenly run in, Candy and Grenda trailing blithely behind her.

“It’s starting!” she quipped, hopping onto the chair beside her brother and forcing him to move aside.

“Turn it up!” Candy exclaimed, squeezing onto the other side of the chair as her and Mabel essentially sandwiched the already rather perturbed Dipper between them.

“Make room for Grenda!” Grenda shouted boisterously, leaping on top of them all and recklessly knocking over a lamp in the process. The girls were just in time to see the beginning of the news story, featuring Toby Determined reporting on the scene outside of Northwest Manor, standing amongst an already very large, very eager crowd of townsfolk. “Well, tonight’s the night, but I’ve been out here for days!” the reporter exclaimed, his clothes tattered and muddy from doing so. “The Northwest family’s annual high-society-shindig-ball-soiree is here! And even though common folk aren’t let in, that doesn’t stop us from camping out right outside the gates for a peek at the fanciness!”

“Ooooooh!” all three of the girls mused, stars of amazement in their eyes as they stared at the screen, enthralled. Dipper, on the other hand, couldn’t have been any less interested in this rather soft, largely unimportant news.

“Ok, can someone please explain to me why people actually care about this?” he asked dryly, rolling his eyes at the brief snippets of poor-quality clips of past Northwest parties on screen.

“Northwest Fest is pretty much the best party of all time!” Grenda informed in her usual loud way. “Rich food, richer boys!”

“They say each gift basket has a live quail inside!” Mabel added just as enthusiastically.

“Give me your life, Pacifica…” Candy sighed wistfully as a clip of the heiress played during the newscast.

“You guys have got to be kidding,” Dipper deadpanned. “In case you’ve already forgotten, Pacifica Northwest has been a complete jerk to us all summer. She’s almost as bad as Gideon, minus the whole trying to kill us thing.”

“Oh, come on, bro-bro, you’re overexaggerating,” Mabel huffed. “Pacifica’s nowhere near as crazy or evil as Gideon is.”

“Maybe not, but she’s still the worst.” Dipper was suddenly interupted by a random knock on the door, but even so, his sour attitude towards the heiress didn’t change as he got up to answer it. “And that’s not just jealousy talking; I’d say that to her face.”

Ironically enough, however, the face he was met with upon opening the door was none other than Pacifica’s herself. “I need your help,” she said, saving the pleasantries and getting right to the point.

A very brief beat of rather awkward silence passed between the two of them before Dipper quickly acted upon what he had previously said. “You’re the worst,” he quickly told the heiress before abruptly slamming the door on her without bothering to hear her out whatsoever.

The trio of girls inside gasped in horror at response to Dipper’s careless rudeness towards Pacifica, especially given the fact that her family was hosting the most incredible party in town. Still, he hardly seemed to care as he turned towards them, arms crossed and caustic expression set. “See?”

Unfortunately for him, Pacifica wasn’t willing to give up that easily as she knocked on the door once again, this time much more insistently. And despite really not wanting to, Dipper knew that she likely wouldn’t go away until he at the very least heard her out. “Alright, what do you want?” he asked coldly as he opened the door again, sending her a quite transparent glare.

“Look, you think its easy for me to come here?” Pacifica asked, dressed in clothing that would largely obscure her identity, including a scarf over her hair and sunglasses over her eyes. “I don’t want to be seen in this hovel. But my dad made me come all the way out here because there’s something haunting Northwest Manor.” At this, the heiress removed her sunglasses, a hint of desperation in her otherwise haughty manner as she continued. “If you don’t help me, the party could be ruined!”

“And you really think that matters to me, like, at all?” Dipper raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the doorframe. “Honestly, I don’t know why I should even trust you. All you’ve ever done is try to humiliate me, Mabel, Steven, and Connie.”

“Hey, its not my fault you four are easy targets,” Pacifica scowled, every bit as bitter over this exchange as Dipper was. “Just name your price, ok? My dad will freak out if go back without any help, so I’ll give you anything!”

“Hi, Pacifica!” Mabel quickly interjected, rushing to the door before her brother could get a single word out. “Excuse us!” At this, she was quick to pull Dipper back into the shack despite his confused protest. “Dipper! Don’t you see what this means?!” she asked him in a fervent whisper. “If you help Pacifica, you could get us into the greatest party of all time!”

“What?” Dipper asked incredulously. “Mabel, this is Pacifica we’re talking about here. Helping her out will just end up turning into a huge disaster, I know it.”

“But it’s Candy and Grenda’s dream!” Mabel pleaded, nodding back to the starry eyed duo behind her. “And you know… it’s kinda mine too and you’d totally be the world’s number one best brother ever if you got me and my friends into this party and I’d totally owe you and shower you with the biggest, happiest hugs I can give and-”

“Ugh, alright already!” Dipper interjected, quite tired of his sister’s enthusiastic rambling on the matter as be begrudgingly turned to address Pacifica again. “I’ll bust your ghost. But in exchange, I’ll need three tickets to the party.”

The heiress let out a disgruntled growl at this, but nonetheless she conceded, reaching into her purse and retrieving the aforementioned tickets. “You’re just lucky I’m desperate.”

“Woo!” all three of the girls chanted in absolute elation in the living room, completely overwhelmed with excitement about the immaculate party that lay ahead of them. “Desperate! Desperate! Desperate!”

“Grenda, get the glue gun!” Mabel commanded with a huge, zealous grin. “We’re making dresses!”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I agreed to this…” Pacifica muttered, face palming as she prepared to leave.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this either…” Dipper remarked just as crossly, almost completely certain that he’d come to regret this choice some way or another.

Warm, plentiful laughter rung out between Steven and Connie as they emerged from the house, Lion trailing not too far behind them. The pair had spent most of the morning hanging out around the temple, with Connie practicing her sword skills on her own while Steven readily cheered her on. Still, soon enough the rousing rounds of swings and swipes soon came to an end as they decided to head down to the shack for a bit to see what Dipper and Mabel were up to.

“Well, time to assume my secret identity,” Connie joked, putting her glassless glasses back on. “Thanks again for letting me practice at your place, Steven. It’s a shame I can’t practice at home…”

“Well, why can’t you?” Steven asked, curious as he continued to hold the umbrella up for both of them, shielding them from the rain as they walked down the hill.

“Because my mom would totally flip if she caught me with a sword,” Connie remarked with a small chuckle, even though she was being serious. “And besides, Pearl hasn’t given me a ‘take home’ sword yet like she has for Dipper. Probably because I haven’t really gone on a lot of missions with you guys since we’ve started training, which I understand.”

Steven took pause upon hearing this, seeing that while Connie was apparently complacent with this fact, there was still a hint of longing in her expression all the same. Longing that he couldn’t help but feel compelled to fulfill. “Hey, wait a sec,” the young Gem stopped, prompting both Connie and Lion to do the same. “May I?” he asked, turning to the pink beast, who obediently lowered his head to allow his owner to reach inside his magical mane. Connie watched in apt curiosity as Steven felt around inside the pocket dimension for a moment, before finding what he was looking for and pulling it cleanly out of Lion’s forehead: Rose Quartz’s legendary sword.

“Here-eth,” Steven began, playfully yet dutifully bowing before the rather surprised Connie. “You can borrow-ethhhh my mother’s sword-ethhhhh.”

“S-Steven! That… that’s so nice!” Connie exclaimed with a small, albeit taken aback smile. “If grammatically incorrect. But…” At this point she was quick to switch into the same medieval tone Steven had been using. “Thou canst just giveth me thine mother’s sword!”

“Why not… -ethhhh?” the young Gem asked with a confused frown.

“Because its really important-ethhh!” Connie argued as they finally made it to the shack.

“That’s exactly why you should have-ethhhh it! You can have it to practice-ethhh with-ethhhh.”

Connie hesitated as Steven presented the sword to her once more, its large, pink form suddenly seeming quite intimidating as she looked upon it. This was by far a special blade, one that held more history that she could likely ever even hope to understand. Even with her skills progressing at the rate they were, she still felt largely unworthy by merit alone to wield such an impressively powerful sword. And yet, as she looked back to the young Gem who was so kindly offering it to her with such a hopeful smile, she found it was becoming increasingly difficult to turn that offer down. “Are you sure-ethhh?”

“Positive-ethhh,” Steven nodded with a confident, steady grin. One that was finally enough to convince Connie to take the illustrious, surprisingly light sword into her own hands.

“Thhhhhhank you!” she exclaimed with a laugh, finally capping off the pair’s playful barrage of medieval speech.

“You’re welcome,” Steven said, his smile finally falling a bit as his tone became serious. “It’s just… I was thinking… We gotta be ready if we need to fight Malachite or Peridot o-or Bill or… or those creepy Gem fusion experiments. And seeing as how you’ve already got the skills, all you really needed was a sword. Which means we’re bound to be ready for whatever comes our way next.”

“Well, there’s no real way of knowing that for sure,” Connie mused thoughtfully as they prepared to head inside the shack. “But still, I’ll take good care of it.”

The pair exchanged another warm smile as they opened the door, only to find a scene of colorful chaos unfurling before them. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were congregated in the den, mutually awash in frantic excitement as they scrambled to put their home-made evening gowns together in time for the party. As Candy and Grenda collaborated on pouring copious amounts of glitter onto a swath of already very shiny fabric, Mabel rushed towards the stairs, energized as ever.

“Hi, Steven! Hi, Connie!” she greeted the confused pair quickly as she ran past them. “No time to talk! Our pom-pom supply is running dangerously low and I gotta replenish it ASAP!”

“Uh… what’s going on?” Connie asked as Mabel rushed off.

“They’re getting ready for tonight,” Dipper said as he came over to join the pair.

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Steven asked curiously.

“There’s some stupid party happening at Northwest Manor,” Dipper explained, still rather vexed over the matter. “And I somehow got roped by Pacifica into getting rid of a ghost that’s apparently haunting the place in exchange for getting those three tickets for it.”

“Oh my gosh, the party!” Connie exclaimed with a recollective gasp. “I can’t believe I forgot about it! Ugh, my mom got invited for being one of the ‘top tier medical professionals’ in Gravity Falls, which means I have to go too, as much as I’d rather do literally anything else.”

“Same here,” Dipper staunchly agreed. “The last thing I want to do is spend an evening with Pacifica, of all people.”

“Tell me about it,” Connie crossed her arms with equal distain. “It’s kind of hard to believe Pacifica would ask you for help, Dipper, seeing as how she’s made it really clear she hates all four of us. Not that the feeling isn’t completely mutual, seeing as how she’s just about the worst.”

“That’s what I said!” Dipper exclaimed, exasperated. “But unfortunately, I couldn’t really turn her down; Mabel would have never let me live it down if I didn’t get those tickets for her.”

“Aw, I don’t know what you two are so upset about,” Steven interjected with a small smile. “This party sounds like a lot of fun! You know, aside from that whole ghost thing you mentioned, Dipper.”

“Yeah, it’ll be ‘fun’ alright,” Dipper deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “About as fun as getting a root canal.”

“Or getting hit by a bus,” Connie added before they both broke out into a bout of rather cynical laughter. Steven didn’t really join in on it as someone knocked on the door, but even so, as he went to answer it he offered the pair some more encouragement over the evening they were both so clearly dreading.

“Well, even if you guys don’t think so, I still think you’ll both have a great time at the party,” the young Gem said warmly. “I sure wish I could go. But I wasn’t invited, so I guess I’ll just have to-” Steven cut himself off as he opened the door to see a rather impatient doctor standing outside. “D-Dr. Maheswaran!”

“Yes, yes, hello, Steven,” Priyanka greeted dully as she stepped inside. “Hello, Dipper.”

“Uh, hi, Dr. Maheswaran,” Dipper replied, glancing over at Connie in confusion as she hurriedly hid Rose’s sword behind her back before her mother could see it.

“M-Mom!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with alarm at this unexpected intrusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to pick you up so we can go get ready for the party this evening, remember?” Priyanka remarked in a huff. “It’s only a few hours away and we have much to do before then, to the point that I even had to leave work early. But it’ll all be worth it if I can land the Northwests as the sponsors for the purposed new wing at the hospital. Which means I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight, young lady.”

“Yes, mother…” Connie grumbled, far from keen on the idea of sucking up to Pacifica’s family like her mother seemed to be.

“Now say goodbye to your friends,” the doctor ordered, reaching out to grab her daughter’s hand without any warning. “We’ll have to hurry if we want to-” Priyanka stopped short upon hearing the noisy clatter that came as a result of Connie loosing her grip on the sword she had been concealing as it fell to the floor.

“Oh no…” Connie groaned, face palming as she realized she had no time to reclaim it before her mother turned to see it lying in plain sight on the ground beside her.

“Is that… a sword?!” Priyanka gasped, picking the sheathed blade up in complete appalment. “Connie, where did you get this?!”

“I-it’s-” Steven nervously began to explain before Connie quickly interupted him.

“I-I found it! It was just… lying outside and I wanted to show it to Steven and Dipper.”

“Wait, but isn’t that Rose’s-” Dipper was immediately cut off by Connie as she slapped a silencing hand over his mouth while her mother seethed with fury all the while.

“How could you possibly think this is ok?!” the doctor exclaimed, completely livid as she paced back and forth the foyer with the sword still in her grip. “Do you know how many children I see coming into the hospital every day who’ve cut their faces off playing with swords?”

“Uh…”

“None!” Priyanka snapped hotly. “Because they have parents who love them and don’t let them play around with deadly weapons like some kind of gang member!”

“B-but-” Connie tried to protest, but her mother immediately shot her down.

“No buts! I don’t even know why I have to tell you this! You should know better! No playing with swords! Under any circumstances! Now, come along, we still have to get ready for the party. I’ll have a talk with your father after he gets off work tonight to calculate just how grounded you are. And we’re using the abacus!”

And with that, Priyanka abruptly turned on her heel and walked out, taking Rose’s sword along with her, much to Connie’s dismay. “I hate that abacus…” she remarked sourly before her tone turned fretful. “Steven, I’m so sorry! She took your mother’s sword!”

“Maybe we could get her to change her mind?” Steven suggested with a reassuring smile.

“She never, ever changes her mind,” Connie huffed, rubbing her temples. “We’ve got to get that sword back ourselves.”

“How are you going to do that?” Dipper asked with a frown. “There probably isn’t a great chance that Dr. Maheswaran will let the sword out of her sight considering how upset she was about it.”

“Oh, you’re right…” Connie mused worriedly for a moment before excitedly snapping her fingers. “Wait! I know! The party! We can wait until she’s distracted tonight and then, Steven, you and me can sneak off with it without her even knowing!”

“That’s a great idea, Connie!” Steven chimed brightly. “There’s just one problem though… I’m not invited to the party.”

“Connie!” Priyanka shouted quite impatiently from outside. “We need to leave, now!”

“W-well, you’ll just have to figure out a way to get in!” Connie urged as she began to hurry out. “I’ll see you tonight!”

“Hopefully…” Steven said, halfheartedly waving her off as she rushed to join her mother. “Wait a second! Dipper, didn’t you say that you convinced Pacifica to give you some tickets to the party? Do you think maybe you could get just one more from her so I could get in too?”

“Steven, it was basically a miracle that she even agreed to give me tickets for Mabel, Candy, and Grenda,” Dipper said with an apologetic frown. “I highly doubt she’s gonna be willing to fork over another one, even with me taking care of her ghost problem for her.”

“You’re probably right…” Steven sighed in disappointment. “But what am I gonna do? I gotta find a way to get into that party somehow!”

“Did somebody say party!?” Both boys were quite started as, out of nowhere, Amethyst suddenly dropped down from the ceiling, grinning wryly as she landed in between them.

“Amethyst? What are you doing here?” Dipper asked in apt confusion.

“Oh, ya know, just napping up in the rafters, just like I do all the time,” the purple Gem remarked, stretching herself out as she fully woke up. “The ones here at the shack are way more comfy than the ones up at the temple, believe it or not. But it’s been kinda hard to get any rest around here with everyone being so loud for some reason. Seriously what’s up with all that?”

“Oh well uh…” Steven began rather anxiously, not wanting to admit to any of the Gems that he had lost track of his mother’s sword. “E-everyone’s just… really excited about the Northwests’ party tonight and-”

“Ugh, that yearly snooze-fest?” Amethyst stuck her tongue out in disdain. “I don’t know why anyone would get excited over that. It’s barely even a party! Just a bunch of rich stiffs standing around yapping about how much money they have. The only good thing about it is that the grub is all you can eat, which is an offer I always took them up on whenever we went to it back in the day.”

“Wait, so you guys have been to this party before?” Dipper asked curiously.

“Yeah, a few times,” the purple Gem shrugged. “But only because we kinda sometimes filled in as bodyguards for those Northwest losers way back when before we learned that they’re a bunch of crooked jerks. Crazy thing about it is that we still actually get invites for their party every year, even though he haven’t gone since Rose was still around. Guess they never bothered to take us off the guest list, not that we’d go anyway seeing as how those prudes didn’t keep their-”

“A-Amethyst!” Steven suddenly interjected, eyes wide with newfound hope upon hearing that his guardians had invitations to the exclusive party. Which meant that there was a chance he could help Connie out after all. “Did we get invited this year too?!”

“Uh… yeah? Pretty sure Pearl has the invites up at the temple. Why?”

“B-because I wanna go this year!” Steven urged, his manner still rather tight as Amethyst looked to him in confusion.

“What? Why?” she asked caustically. “Did you hear what I just said? That party’s lame, Steven. You’d get bored in the first 5 seconds, just like I always used to.”

“W-well… maybe its not as boring as it used to be anymore!” the young Gem argued earnestly. “And besides, Connie’s going! And so are Dipper and Mabel!”

“That’s right,” Dipper nodded, supporting the young Gem in his effort to try and win the purple Gem over on the matter. “Amethyst, would it really be fair if the three of us got to go to some huge fancy party while Steven just spends the night home, bored and alone?”

“Like a poor little sadsack?” Steven added, pouting pleadingly.

Amethyst didn’t answer right away as she looked between the pair, arms crossed and expression dry. Still, her manner didn’t stay that way for long upon watching the young Gem’s lower lip start to quiver as a sign of his genuine desperation. Which was something that none of the Gems, not even Amethyst, was able to resist. “Ugh, ok fine!” she groaned in exasperation. “I’ll help you convince Garnet and Pearl into going with us to that dumb party. But only because their food is really good. And also ‘cause I’m in the mood for busting up some of the Northwests’ expensive fancy property.”

“Yes!” Steven cheered, quite relieved as he gave Dipper a thankful high five. “Thanks so much Amethyst!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the purple Gem remarked with a casual wave of her hand as she took her leave to inform her teammates of their plan. “Just don’t come cryin’ to me when you end up clonking out on that ballroom floor from how boring it all is. Which will happen. Trust me, I know, I’ve done before.”

Sure enough, with Northwest Fest set to start in roughly an hour, a massive crowd of spectators had congregated around at least a mile radius from the mansion’s securely locked gates, ones that were meant to keep the common folk out while the exclusively wealthy guests enjoyed the finery inside. Of course, this year’s party did carry some exceptions to these upscale standards, namely the group Pacifica unceremoniously escorted in through the mansion’s stately front doors.

“Welcome to Northwest Manor, dorks,” she announced dryly as Dipper, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda all got their first glimpses of the immaculate ballroom. “Try not to touch anything.”

The girls hardly heeded the heiresses as they rushed past her, clad in their flashy home-made dresses as they rushed to take in every lavish sight surrounding them. The mansion’s grand hall was quite a splendor, with high vaulted ceilings, expertly crafted woodwork and spotless marble floors. With most guests having yet to arrive, the only ones milling about at the moment were maids and servants as they put together the finishing touches for the festivities, including the massive apple cider fountain and lengthy buffet of hors d’oeurves. Overall, the setting of the party alone lived up to the stories of its splendor, splendor that the girls were more than happy to explore as they cheerfully ran about.

“Everything’s so fancy!” Mabel quipped, stars in her eyes as she spun around in her fluffy pink gown. “Fancy floor, fancy plants, fancy man!” she finished as she zealously patted the face of a nearby butler.

“Mm, yes, very good, miss,” the butler conceded dutifully before walking away.

“The rumors were true!�� Candy proclaimed, running by with a quail-filled gift bag in hand before Grenda and Mabel hurried after her, chuckling cheerfully all the while.

At the same time, Preston and Priscilla entered the room, calm and composed over their nearly-complete party preparations, even despite the previous night’s setback. “Ah, if it isn’t the man of the hour!” Preston addressed Dipper cordially as the couple approached him. “I trust you can help us with out little… situation before the guests arrive in an hour.”

“I’ll do my best,” Dipper assured rather confidently. And really, he had every reason to show confidence for the task ahead as equipped as he was with the journal, ghost tracking equipment, and even his sword as an extra precaution. On top of all that was the general level of experience in fending off supernatural danger he had gained over the course of the summer alone, which made him feel more than equipped to deal with a simple, run of the mill ghostly haunting.

“Splendid! Pacifica, take our guest to the ‘problem room’,” the billionaire said to his daughter before dropping his voice down to a mutter while Dipper was distracted. “And uh… he’s not wearing that is he?” he asked, rather unimpressed with the boy’s common, almost sloppy attire and overall manner.

“I’m on it,” Pacifica nodded, wasting no time in dragging Dipper off to the mansion’s quite extensive guest dressing room. And, despite his extensive protests, she eventually managed to get him fitted in an appropriately formal suit, something that Dipper found to be incredibly uncomfortable and restricting even from the moment he first put it on.

“Ugh, it’s like this collar is strangling me,” he grumbled, pulling at the offending, quite aggravating collar. “Who do you guys think you’re impressing with this stuff anyway?”

“Uh, everyone?” Pacifica retorted just as sharply as she quickly adjusted Dipper’s tie. “You wouldn’t understand. High standards are what make the Northwest family great. And part of those high standards is that we always look our best.” To prove her point, the heiress motioned down to her own fashionable lavender ball gown, one that she knew and was quite proud of the fact that it was the best that money could buy.

“Oh really?” Dipper remarked with a wry, knowing smirk. “That’s funny seeing as how you guys didn’t look all that great when we exposed you for lying about founding the town.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Pacifica scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We’re still way better than pretty much anyone else in this town, even if we didn’t found it some stupidly long time ago. And in case you haven’t noticed, everybody still loves us, so its not like you guys ‘revealing the truth’ even changed anything.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the only reason why people supposedly ‘love’ your family is because you guys are ridiculously rich?” Dipper asked rather crossly.

“No, its because we’re respected,” the heiress corrected pointedly. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh yeah, sure, ‘respected’,” Dipper deadpanned. “For pretty much nothing but being rich.”

“Oh, just shut up already and come on!” Pacifica snapped, quite frustrated especially as Dipper kept up his smug, triumphant grin. Still, both of them were rather eager to get this ghost hunting mission over with, if for nothing more than to cut the begrudging, yet momentarily necessary tie between them. Which was why they continued on to investigate in a state of cross, bitter silence, one that neither of them felt compelled to break, lest even more biting, hostile words spark between them. Words that, ironically, were the exact opposite of the kind of sentiments that would spark up between them soon enough.

Though it had taken some doing, Steven and Amethyst had managed to convince Garnet and Pearl into going to the Northwests’ party. Still, despite their agreement to show up, none of the Gems were very excited to be there as they arrived early, just as they always used to do when they used to attend the party in the past. They had almost ended up arriving in their usual attire, but upon Steven’s insistence, they had begrudgingly shifted into more elegant wear for the evening. Garnet had taken on a smooth, sleeveless, sleek magenta gown, one that filled out wide past her knees and had a large slit revealing her shapely left leg. Pearl’s dress was more modest; a graceful, pale blue, silky ensemble, with straps and an additional skirt from behind. Though Amethyst usually abhorred getting dolled up, she had made an exception for Steven, putting on a shorter purple dress with loose skirts and low straps on top of tying her hair up into a messy, yet still presentable (thanks to Pearl) bun. As for Steven, he was clad in a rental tux that Greg had managed to score for him at the last second, but even still, he was quite ready for the party himself, even despite his apprehension for even having to be there in the first place.

“I still can’t believe we agreed to come to this shallow parade of overindulgence and excess,” Pearl huffed disdainfully as the group approached the mansion’s entrance. “I thought our days of attending these despicable Northwest parties were long over.”

“We all agreed to make an exception this year for Steven, Pearl,” Garnet reminded, even though it was clear she was none too pleased to be there either. “So we’ll just have to suck it up for a few hours.”

“Yes, I know, but still…” the white Gem dropped her voice down to a whisper as she clutched the Gem leader’s arm. “All of this shameless touting of refinement, power, and position over others? You can’t deny that it’s a little like-”

“Homeworld, I know,” Garnet’s expression darkened somewhat. “That’s one of the many reasons we stopped going to these.”

Despite their quiet conversing, Steven still picked up on what his guardians were talking about and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty for stirring up bad memories of their former planet by essentially using them as his ticket into this party. Part of him wanted to tell them his true reasoning for wanting to come, namely to help Connie reclaim Rose’s sword, but he couldn’t very well admit that to them out of shame that he had lost something so precious and important, especially since it was his responsibility to keep it safe in the first place. So instead of telling the truth, the young Gem decided to do one of the things he did best: cheer them up.

“I-I know you guys aren’t looking forward to this, but I still think we could end up having fun!” he quipped with a warm smile. “I mean, we’re all here together, and Connie, Dipper, and Mabel are coming too so maybe the party won’t be as bad as it used to be when you guys used to go to it.”

“Oh yeah, speakin’ of which,” Amethyst interjected curiously as they all presented their invitations at the door before being let inside. “How did those three get invites to this ritzy blowout anyway? I always remember this thing being super exclusive, to the point that they only let rich, snobby jerks in. And last time I checked, Connie, Dipper, and Mabel aren’t rich, snobby jerks.”

“Oh, uh, well-”

“Steven!” the young Gem was interupted almost as soon as him and the Gems stepped into the ballroom by Mabel, who had managed to spot them from the other side of the hall. She didn’t hesitate to excitedly run over towards him, though she did slow her pace somewhat, her cheeks flushing red upon noticing the rather dashing suit he was in. “W-wow…” she said as she came to a stop, trying her best not to come across as flustered and doing anything but. “Steven, you… y-you look, uh… you… um… G-great to see you!”

“Uh, its great to see you too, Mabel, even though I did just see you a few hours ago.” Steven chuckled, fortunately not paying her stumbling much mind.

“Heh, yeah… Oh my gosh!” Mabel quickly changed topics, averting her gaze from the young Gem lest she turn incoherent again as she addressed the Gems instead. “You guys all look so pretty! I love, love, love your dresses!”

“Well, thank you, Mabel,” Pearl smiled kindly. “Your dress for the evening is very… creative as well!”

“Aw, thanks so much! I made it myself!” Mabel cheerily gushed, pulling off a playful curtsy. “Still, this is so crazy awesome! I wasn’t expecting to see any of you guys here! Isn’t this party the fanciest thing you’ve ever seen?!”

“Mm… we’ve seen fancier,” Garnet noted rather dryly, eliciting confused frowns from both Mabel and Steven.

“Mabel! You gotta get over here!” Grenda suddenly called, her deep voice echoing from across the ballroom.

“Oh! Hold that thought!” Mabel exclaimed as she started to run off, though not before bidding Steven and the Gems a quick farewell as they waved her off. “I’ll catch up with you guys later! I hope you have fun!”

“Ha, like that’ll ever happen at this lamo snob party,” Amethyst grumbled, crossing her arms petulantly.

“What’s up?” Mabel asked Candy and Grenda as she joined them before a large, stately book resting on a stand.

“Look what we found! It’s the guest list!” Grenda grinned, eagerly flipping through it before stopping a few pages in. “Whoa! Check out this hottie!”

“Marius von Fundshauser!” Candy read, already completely enthralled with the wealthy young man from his picture alone. “He’s a baron from Austria!”

“Forget the quail, I’m putting him in my gift basket!” Mabel quipped, more than ready to indulge herself with another summer crush. Especially if it helped her get her mind off her ever-growing feelings for a certain young Gem.

“Hold up, ladies,” Grenda interjected, her tone surprisingly serious. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think this boy might be out of our league.”

“Grenda is right,” Candy nodded just as rationally. “He is a white whale. Hunting him will destroy us.”

“Well, there are plenty of other cute boys coming to this party,” Mabel vouched with a conceding smile. “So let’s make a sister’s truce not to waste our time on Marius. Deal?”

“Deal!” Candy and Grenda both agreed as they all put their hands together in mutual agreement on this plan. Still, all three of them laughed somewhat nervously as they broke their hands apart, none of them entirely sure if this was a deal they intended on keeping.

As her father had instructed, Pacifica led Dipper to the so-called “problem room”, which, even upon an initial glance, was exactly what he had been expecting. It appeared to be some kind of lounge, just as stately as the rest of Northwest Manor was with hand-crafted hardwood furniture, walls lined with paintings hailing the family’s allegedly proud history, and mounted animal heads, and a large roaring fireplace that cast the entire room in a shadowy, almost blood red glow.

“This is the main room where it’s been happening,” Pacifica informed as they stepped inside, her usual confident manner somewhat diminished in place of fledgling fear.

“Yeah, this looks like the kind of room that would be haunted alright,” Dipper concluded as he pulled the journal out and turned to the fortunately extensive section on ghosts. “I wouldn’t worry about it though. Ghosts fall on a ten-category scale. Floating plates sounds like a category 1, which is pretty far from being anywhere close to dangerous.”

“So what?” Pacifica asked with a teasing smirk. “Are you gonna bore him back into the afterlife by reading from that book? Or are you going to pretend to stab him with that cute little toy sword of yours?” she asked, nodding to the Ancient Sea Blade he had securely strapped to his back.

“First of all, it’s not a toy, its real,” Dipper corrected, half tempted to draw it and show her. “And secondly, I only brought it with me as a precaution. If it really is a category 1, then the most I gotta do is splash that sucker with some anointed water,” he said, holding said small bottle of holy water up. “And he should be out of your probably-fake blonde hair.”

“What was that about my hair?” Pacifica scoffed, glaring at him disapprovingly.

“Shh!” Dipper quickly interupted her as he pulled a small, ghost-tracking device out of his backpack, one that was already beeping in response to the apparent supernatural activity in the room. “I’m picking something up.”

The heiress simply sighed in aggravation but all the same she hung back, allowing him to investigate further as he followed the readings the device was giving off. Dipper stopped short in front of the fireplace as he briefly glanced up to the large painting of who appeared to be an 1880s lumberjack until the device’s signal suddenly went dead. “Ugh, come on, stupid thing,” he muttered in annoyance, beating the side of it until it began beeping once more. “There we go. Huh?” He was met with immediate confusion as he glanced up again, only to find that somehow, the lumberjack in the painting had suddenly disappeared from the frame in what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds at best. Something that Dipper already knew well from experience, was far from normal. “Uh… Pacifica?”

The heiress didn’t even heed him as she instead let out a frightened scream on the other side of the room, one that was quite warranted given the pool of blood she had just spotted near her feet, one that was being fueled from above. Both her and Dipper let out shared gasps of shock as they glanced up to see blood, thick, dark, and real, swelling from the seemingly dead mouths and eyes of every single one of the taxidermized animal heads on the walls. A steady, unnatural gale-force wind started to swirl around the room as bright, sinister flames began bursting out from the confines of the fireplace, almost as if they were trying to latch onto Dipper and Pacifica as they rushed to meet each other near the center of the room. The danger seemed to escalate more and more with each passing second as the animal heads, still dripping with unexplainable blood and blank, unseeing eyes glowing a sharp, warning red, began to raise their voices in a deep, unearthly, ominous chant.

“ANCIENT SINS! ANCIENT SINS! ANCIENT SINS!”

On and on this mysterious mantra continued as the objects in the room began to take flight, books, furniture, and antiques all rising into the air before they haphazardly glided around the appropriately terrified pair. “Dipper, what is this?!” Pacifica cried about the incredible din surrounding them, her trembling hands held close to her as her long hair whipped about in the hurricane winds.

“I-it’s a category 10…” Dipper replied, absolutely shaken. After all, the last time he had witnessed a supernatural disaster this dire or intense was when he had watched his own body be taken over by a vicious dream demon while he floated outside of it, distraught and helpless. And while this haunting was nowhere near as immediately catastrophic as that had been, it was still every bit as deadly, a fact he was starkly reminded of as his only real option for taking care of it, the vial of anointed water, abruptly shattered right in his hand.

“ANCIENT BLOOD AND BLACKENED SKIES,” the animal heads changed their chant into something new, but every bit as dark and sinister. “THE FOREST DARK SHALL ONCE MORE RISE!”

“What do we do?! What do we do?!” Pacifica practically screamed as she grabbed Dipper by the suit jacket and shook him desperately.

“I-I… I don’t know!” Dipper answered truthfully, realizing that he was actually quite unprepared for something of this caliber.

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Pacifica shot back in disbelief. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of supernatural expert or something?!”

“Who on earth told you that?!”

“Uh, the town newspaper did!”

“Whoa, really?” Dipper paused, rather pleasantly surprised to hear this. “That’s… actually pretty awesome.”

“Focus!” Pacifica snapped harshly. “We’re about to be killed by creepy dead animal heads and flying furniture, remember?!”

“Don’t worry,” Dipper assured as evenly as he could, given the circumstances. “It can’t possibly get any worse than this!”

Of course, he was immediately proven wrong as the fire violently sparked up again, forcing the pair to dive under the nearby table to avoid getting burned. And they did so just in time as, out of nowhere, a powerful black skeletal arm emerged from the flames, still completely consumed in them as it smashed down onto the ground. The rest of the charred skeleton subsequently pulled itself out of the fire, something akin to skin and clothes forming around the bones as they formed the visage of a large, burly man, the lumberjack from the painting himself, who was clearly deceased based on his rotting, grisly form. A sharp, deadly axe had cleaved his head, the obvious cause of his death that still remained in his undead form. And his manner was every bit as outraged and heated as the burning inferno he had emerged from as he belted out his first proclamation in a deep, rumbling voice.

“I smell… a NORTHWEST!” the ghost growled, blue flames igniting in place of where hair and a beard would normally be as his one remaining eye shot open. Dipper and Pacifica made sure to remain hidden out of the ghost’s view under the table as he began to storm around the room, another axe materializing in his hand as he dragged it threateningly across the floor with each torturously slow step. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Hurry!” Pacifica whispered to Dipper sharply as he frantically flipped through the journal for answers. “Read through your dumb book already and figure out a way to get rid of that… thing!”

“I’m looking!” Dipper retorted just as harshly as he pulled out his blacklight. “And its not dumb, ok? This book is gonna save our lives! Alright, here we go; Advice:” Hoping that the category 10 ghost page would hold the key to ousting this great, newfound threat, he held the blacklight over the page, only to get the lone, disconcerting message of “Pray for mercy!” instead of anything tangibly useful. “Aw, seriously?!”

Matters were only made worse as the table, their only real cover from the ghost and his deadly axe, suddenly hovered away, leaving them directly in the menacing specter’s line of sight, much to their shared horror. “You should not have come here!” he shouted, not even hesitating to swipe at the pair with his weapon, which they only barely dodged.

“This way! Hurry!” Pacifica exclaimed, grabbing Dipper by the arm and quickly pulling him up before they rushed out of the room. The ghost was in hot pursuit, his fiery manner sparkly with murderous intent as he relentlessly chased them down the mansion’s maze-like halls, ready to strike.

Northwest Manor’s massive doors finally opened to the illustrious group of invited party guests as Preston proudly stood by to greet them all, his wide, cordial grin completely hiding any implications that ghostly danger was currently lurking through the mansion’s halls. “Welcome, dukes, duchesses, sultans and sportsmen! And—ugh… Mayor Dewey…”

“Preston!” Dewey exclaimed brightly, rushing forward as he threw an arm over the billionaire’s shoulder. “We’re so honored to be here, isn’t that right, Buck?”

“Not really,” Buck dryly stated, his arms crossed and his shades still on despite his formal attire.

“Ha! Isn’t my son just hilarious?!” Dewey chuckled with an incredibly forced laugh as he snapped a finger at one of his aids, not noticing Preston’s quickly growing aggravation with him. “Now, smile for the campaign promotion!” The mayor did so brightly, even if the billionaire made his annoyance quite clear before finally acting upon it as soon as the aid snapped a photo.

“Alright, Dewey, that’s enough of your ‘campaigning’ for one evening,” Preston scowled scornfully, pushing the mayor back into the crowd. “Now then,” the billionaire continued, quickly regaining his composure as he addressed the rest of his guests. “Tonight we will enjoy only the finest of tastes and only the snootiest of laugher.” Someone in the crowd let out an incredibly haughty chortle in response to this remark as Preston nodded in approval. “That’s the ticket!” he exclaimed, motioning for the guests to finally step inside.

Despite the party’s exclusivity, there were still quite a few attendees who filed in, most of them quite prominent in some regard, be it wealth or reputation. Within this group were some of the town’s most esteemed medical professionals, and among them was Dr. Maheswaran, with Connie almost sullenly following in after her. After since her mother had confiscated Rose’s sword, she had been trying her best not to fall even further out of Priyanka’s good graces than she already had. Hence why she had been obedient, almost rigidly so, all the way leading up to their arrival at the party itself, in the hopes that her mother would loosen up her newly tightened reigns for the evening. And fortunately enough, her vigilance paid off, as that’s exactly what Priyanka did.

“I have to go meet with the other doctors before we propose the hospital sponsorship to the Northwests,” the doctor said to her daughter, her tone as serious as ever. “I trust that you can mind yourself like a proper young lady without getting into any more trouble for an hour or two, right?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Connie nodded apprehensively, keeping her poise and manner as polite and compliant as possible as to not give away her intention of going against her rules.

“Good,” Priyanka nodded in staunch satisfaction as she began to walk off. “And remember what we talked about on the way here!”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Connie assured with a rather fake smile. “I-I don’t think you’ll need to worry about me stumbling across any swords around here!” Her smile immediately fell into partial guilt as soon as her mother fully turned away, since she knew she would soon be seeking out the very sword that had gotten her into all this trouble on her own accord. Still, she didn’t let herself linger on that guilt for too long as Steven managed to spot her amidst the crowd and didn’t hesitate to come running over.

“Connie!” he called with an elated smile as he caught her off guard with a sudden hug.

“S-Steven!” Connie chuckled as the broke apart. “You actually made it!”

“Yeah, it turns out the Gems actually get invited to this party every year,” Steven’s smile quickly turned to wonder as he got a better view of Connie’s attire for the evening: a floor length turquoise dress with short sleeves and a dark sash, one that complimented her neatly-done updo quite nicely. “W-wow… Connie, you look great!”

“Thanks…” Connie blushed, her reddened cheeks matching the young Gem’s own. “You look really nice too. B-but there’s no time to talk about that now! We gotta get your mother’s sword back while my mom is distracted!”

“Right,” Steven nodded, resolved. “So where is it?”

“She left it outside in the car,” Connie reported with a worried frown. “Which means that we can’t just go out through the front door to get it, everybody will notice. There has to be another way out of the mansion…”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to find it!” the young Gem grinned encouragingly. “Come on!” And with that, Steven grabbed Connie’s hand, reigniting the warmth in her cheeks as they slipped through the party’s growing crowds towards the back of the ballroom, where the beginning of the hallways leading to the inner sanctums of the mansion awaited. Neither of them had the faintest clue about the manor’s layout, which was why they had to settle on picking a random hallway and seeing where it led. They managed to do so without Priyanka, or really anyone else for that matter noticing them, mostly since everyone was already so distracted with the fancy offerings of the party itself. And as soon as they were out of the party proper, they both noticed that the mansion’s lofty halls were much more spacious, quiet, and even eerie than either of them would have thought they would be.

“Whoa, this place is even bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside,” Steven remarked as they made their steady way down the corridor they had chosen. “And that’s saying something seeing as how it looks huge on the outside.”

“What do the Northwests even need such a huge mansion for anyway?” Connie asked, making her disdain for the wealthy family as apparent as ever. “They probably don’t even use half the rooms in here and if they do, then they’re probably just filled with stuff they never look at or use.”

“You’re sounding like the Gems did earlier,” Steven remarked with a small, bemused smile. “They… really aren’t that happy to be here.”

“Well, who can blame them?” Connie huffed. “I’d rather be anywhere else but here either, but at least this party his good for one thing: helping us get that sword back.”

“True,” Steven nodded. “Though I don’t really know what we’re gonna do with the sword once we get it back… Lion didn’t come with us to the party, so I guess we’ll just have to sneak it back inside and hope your mom doesn’t see-” The young Gem stopped short as a display case resting against the nearby wall caught his attention as they were passing it. A case that was filled with what seemed to be rather clusters of conjoined gemstones.

“Steven?” Connie frowned as she also paused, noticing his apparent surprise. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Steven glanced away from the case briefly. “Its just… these rocks look an awful lot like the ones those Gem experiments in the Kindergarten had…”

“Really?” Connie asked, concerned. “You don’t think…?”

“…No, they couldn’t be,” the young Gem shook his head. “We bubbled all of them up. A-and even if there were any left that we didn’t find, how would they have ended up here?”

“You got me,” Connie said with a small, reassuring smile. “Now come on, we gotta hurry and get that sword!”

Steven nodded in firm agreement, only taking a very short final glance back at the gemstone display case before he hurried after her. Still, as they continued their way down the narrow mansion hall, neither one of them noticed as one of the odd, strangely familiar-looking gem clusters slowly began to glow, its kin all steadily starting to do the same.

Given their tarnished history with the Northwest family in general, the Gems had decided early on to make their contempt towards their party very apparent. They refused to engage themselves in interacting with any of the transparently pompous guests as they instead hung back together near the other end of the ballroom, their disdainful, disapproving scowls clear as they refused to show any signs of willingly indulging in this wasteful finery.

Well, that is, save for Amethyst.

The purple Gem had essentially overtaken an entire buffet table, scarfing down all of the expensive entrees she could get her hands on, much to Pearl’s ever increasing aggravation.

“Amethyst, could you please try to control yourself for a change!?” the white Gem asked, her arms crossed as she continued standing alongside Garnet nearby.

“No can do, P,” Amethyst said as she essentially poured an entire punch bowl on herself. “These Northwests may throw some lame parties, but at least the snacks never disappoint. I gotta admit, I almost kinda missed this.”

“Well, I certainly haven’t,” Pearl concluded, turning her nose upward coldly. “Now get down from there, you’re making a mess!”

“Good,” Garnet spoke up, undermining the white Gem with a nod of approval, much to her teammates’ confusion.

“Huh?”

“Go ahead and make a mess,” the Gem leader clarified staunchly. “It’s not like the Northwests don’t deserve it after everything they’ve done over the years.”

While Pearl was still rather lost by this bizarre order, Amethyst was more than happy to follow it through. “What, you mean like… this?” she grinned as she dropped a very expensive china tray onto the ground, shattering it upon contact.

“That works,” Garnet nodded in approval as she discreetly summoned her gauntlet. “So does this.” With a simple flick of her fingers at the window behind her, a large crack rippled across its otherwise pristine surface as the Gem leader simply smiled in smug satisfaction.

“G-Garnet!” Pearl gasped, appalled by such destructive behavior.

“Aw, c’mon, Pearl, don’t be such a stick in the mud!” Amethyst goaded, tossing another plate to the ground. “After all, you were the one who painted that awesome tag on their wall a few weeks ago. How is this any worse than that?”

The white Gem hesitated briefly, but in the end, her usual desire for order was quickly overruled by her longstanding contempt for the Northwests and all those like them. “Well…” she began by summoning her spear. “I suppose a tiny little scratch wouldn’t hurt too much…” With this, she placed the tip of her weapon against the smooth marble floor before she began to slowly drag it, leaving a long, marring scratch across the pristine surface. “Oops. Did I do that?” she grinned, already exhilarated by this act of rebellion.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Amethyst cheered, continuing her own form of vandalism as Garnet and Pearl both took to theirs, all three of them reveling in taking their age-old scorn towards the Northwests out, even if it was in a rather simple way.

It stood to reason that a party as fancy and upscale as Northwest Fest would have food and appetizers that were every bit as fancy and upscale to match. And though Amethyst had partaken of the many buffet tables around the ballroom, fortunately she hadn’t gotten to the fondue fountains yet, which was where Candy had been firmly planted for at least the past ten minutes.

“Cheese, chocolate,” she said to herself, essentially entranced as she moved her stick between the two melted substances. “Cheese, chocolate-”

“Candy, listen to me carefully,” Mabel finally interjected as she stepped over to her, halting her constant switching. “You’re caught in a sweet-savory loop. You need to stop now, before you’re lost to the chocolatey cheesiness forever! So put the fondue fork down.”

“I want to… but I can’t…” Candy mused, still completely transfixed on her fondue stick. That is, until most of the ballroom’s attention was garnished by a butler near the front doors.

“Announcing Baron Marius von Fundhauser!” he proclaimed, stepping out of the way to reveal the young baron. Upon a very first glance at him, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were all instantly enamored, all three of them awestruck by his stately, royal attire and long, silky auburn hair. Clearly, he carried the air of a majestic baron in both title and manner as he strode into the ballroom confidently, the girls’ watching him in utter captivation all the while.

“Guten tag!” Marius greeted the trio with a friendly smile as he passed by them, apparently not noticing their jaws unanimously hanging agape in amazement.

“Guten take me now!” Mabel exclaimed, lovestruck as she started hurrying after him, only for Grenda and Candy to quickly stop her.

“Mabel, we had a truce!” Grenda frowned, still clearly serious about keeping said truce.

“Yes, yes, a truce,” Candy nodded, somewhat less so as she forced a complacent smile. “Uh, Grenda? Can you go fetch us some fancy napkins?”

“Wow, ok!” Grenda blithely agreed, innocently heading off to do so.

“Listen, Mabel,” Candy began, dropping her voice down to a whisper as soon as Grenda was out of earshot. “I don’t know if I can follow this truce. He is too adorable!”

“Ugh, I know, right?!” Mabel gushed tightly, almost relieved for Marius’ welcome arrival and Steven’s subsequent, unexplained disappearance from the party. “But what do we do? He’s unattainable! I mean did you see his hair!? It’s like he was straight out of a shampoo commercial!”

“What if we flirt with him as a team?” Candy suggested. “With our cuteness combined, one of us might have a chance!”

“It’s the perfect plan! But… what about Grenda?”

“I love Grenda, Mabel, but these boys are fancy! Her aggressive flirting style might scare them away!”

The pair glanced over at the larger girl, who was in the midst of “fliting” with another boy, though in her own unique, incredibly forward way. “What’s on your shirt?” she asked, pointing to his chest until he glanced down, at which point she proceeded to bring her finger up and flick him hard in the nose. “Ha! Gullible! Loser!”

Upon seeing this display, both Mabel and Candy nodded, both of them immediately on board for their plan to win Marius over between just the two of them. Really, the figured that it would be better for everyone if they left Grenda out of this loop, as much as they didn’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, the baron was exactly that, a baron. They couldn’t risk the chance of Grenda scaring someone as prestigious and esteemed as Marius off, or worse yet, offending him or hurting him at her own expense. And if, in the process of keeping their attempts at courting Marius between just the two of them, either Mabel or Candy ended up catching his eye and his affections, then, they supposed, that would just be an added benefit.

With the party in full swing as it was, few guests bothered to wander anywhere in the mansion past the main ballroom where all the festivities were being held. And yet, if any guest happened to start wandering the manor’s halls, then they would have likely caught sight of a fiery lumberjack ghost relentlessly chasing a pair of fearfully fleeing kids with nothing less than the absolute intent to kill.

Fortunately though, Pacifica knew the winding corridors and lengthy halls of her mansion home well as she navigated herself and Dipper through them while the ghost sped after them, chuckling threateningly all the while. Despite their efforts to shake the spirit off their trail, he kept on them tightly, his exact motivation for wanting their ends rather unclear, though that was hardly what either of them were concerned with as much as staying alive.

“What are we gonna do?!” Pacifica shouted amidst her growing breathlessness as they continued fleeing. “We can’t keep running from that thing forever!”

“I’m looking!” Dipper shouted back, the journal in one hand and his sword in the other. Of course, it was of little use against the incorporeal ghost, but at the very least it was good for fending off the stray pieces of furniture and dinnerware the specter sent flying their way.

“Well look faster!” the heiress snapped impatiently, worriedly glancing over her shoulder as they rushed through one of the mansion’s several inner gardens. The ground was still muddy from the earlier rain showers, which made their trek through it somewhat haphazard, but all the same, they managed to make it to the other end with the ghost still only a few dangerously short feet behind them.

“Come on, come on…” Dipper muttered, frantically flipping through the journal as much as he could until he finally found what he was looking for. “Aha! I got it! Haunted paintings can only be trapped in a silver mirror. And look!” he pointed ahead to the pristinely white parlor they were running straight towards, or more particularly, the large mirror conveniently hanging from its wall. “There’s a silver mirror right there!”

“Wait!” Pacifica exclaimed, grabbing Dipper’s arm before he could so much as even step foot into the room. “Don’t go in there! This room has my parent’s favorite carpet pattern! They’ll lose it if we track mud in there!”

“What? Are you serious?” Dipper scoffed, unable to believe that the heiress was even remotely concerned with something so unimportant. “Pacifica, we don’t have time for this!”

“W-well we need to make time!” Pacifica retorted, her eyes wide with fear that seemed to go beyond the threat the ghost posed. “We’ll find another way!”

“Why do we need to find another way if there’s a perfectly fine way right in front of us!?” Dipper argued crossly, trying to press his way past her into the room.

“Because my parents will kill me if I don’t listen to them and mess up their rug!”

“Why are you so afraid of your parents?!”

“You wouldn’t understand!”

By now, the argument between the pair had escalated quite a bit in intensity as they roughly grappled with each other, Dipper desperately trying to get into the room while Pacifica desperately tried keeping him out. They could both hear the ghost steadily approaching by his deep, ominous laughter alone, but he had largely been forgotten as Pacifica unexpectedly grabbed the journal, hoping that prying it away from Dipper would be enough to convince him to move on. And fortunately for her, this plan worked as she pulled it away from him, surprising him quite a bit as their eyes met in a very short beat of awkward tension before the heiress took off running down the adjacent hallway with the journal in hand.

“Hey!” Dipper shouted, adamantly running after her. “Pacifica, give that back!”

“Oh what?” Pacifica smirked back over her shoulder, triumphant and relieved that her impromptu plan had succeeded. “You want your dumb nerd book? Then come and get it, Pines!”

Dipper couldn’t help but let out a small growl of frustration at her teasing, still rather taken aback by the heiress’ stubbornness and boldness as he ran after her nonetheless. And of course, all the while, the lumberjack ghost continued its haunting chase after them both, more than ready to rain his fiery fury down the moment he inevitably caught up with them.

After traversing and admittedly getting lost amidst the mansion’s many hallways, Steven and Connie had eventually stumbled upon a back door that led to the large parking area roped off for guests behind the manor. And, though it took some doing to find Dr. Maheswaran’s vehicle amidst the myriad of limos and sports cars, they eventually reached it, only to find a setback they admittedly hadn’t anticipated.

“It’s locked…” Connie frowned in disappointment as she tried pulling the trunk open. “Ugh, we should have seen this coming. There’s no way my mom would leave something like a sword in her car without keeping it locked up tight. What are we supposed to do now?”

“Hm… I think I have an idea…” Steven said, looking to the lock thoughtfully. “Do you have a hair pin or something like that?”

“Um, yeah?” Connie complied in confusion, pulling a non-essential pin out of her updo.

“Thanks!” the young Gem grinned as he started wedging the pin into the lock.

“Where did you learn how to pick locks from?” Connie asked, her brow furrowed as she watched Steven work.

“Amethyst and Mr. Pines taught me after I walked in on them trying to open a safe they found somewhere,” Steven explained with an innocent smile. “So they taught me how to pick locks in exchange for not ‘spilling it’ to anyone else about the safe. Tough I’m still not sure why they wouldn’t want anyone else knowing about something like that…”

“Uh, probably because they stole that safe instead of finding it, Steven…” Connie pointed out.

“…Oh. Well, at least I learned something useful,” Steven shrugged as he successfully unlocked the trunk. Sure enough, Rose’s sword lay within, and despite a moment of initial trepidation for breaking her mother’s strict orders, Connie took the blade nonetheless, strapping it over her shoulder before shutting the trunk behind her.

“Ok, we got it,” she said, letting out the deep breath she felt as though she had been holding in since this entire situation began. “Now we just have to sneak it out of the party without my mom seeing…”

“And without the Gems seeing either,” Steven noted as they began making their way back up the hill to the mansion. “I sorta didn’t tell them about this whole sword thing, and I feel like they probably wouldn’t be too happy if they found out its pretty much the reason why I begged them to come to this party in the first place…”

“I guess we’re gonna be on double duty when it comes to being stealthy for the rest of the night then,” Connie said with resolve as they reentered the manor the same way they had left it. However, the pair stopped short as soon as they stepped inside upon seeing what lay before them. The highly decorated hallway was in shambles, wall tapestries torn and decorative displays laying in shattered remains on the ground without any rhyme or reason at all. “Whoa…” Connie mused, her voice dropping down to an apprehensive whisper. “What could have done all this?”

“D-didn’t Dipper say something about Pacifica asking him to help out with a ghost haunting the mansion?” Steven asked nervously, drawing a bit closer to Connie out of fear.

“Yeah but… a ghost wouldn’t have been able to do this much damage… would it?”

“I… I don’t know, maybe,” Steven shook his head fretfully, remembering well just how much destruction the convenience store ghosts had cause at the start of the summer. “We should go find Dipper and ask him if he’s seen-”

The young Gem was cut off as a low, rather inhuman moan echoed from the end of the hall in front of them. The pair froze, their hands unceremoniously intertwining tightly as a large, looming shadow draped itself over the wall, its source unknown as it grew in size and intimidation. Neither Steven or Connie dared to even breathe as the unearthly groans raised in volume, the shadow coming to a stop as a massive arm slammed down into the open before the rest of its twisted body emerged from around the corner. Simply put, it was a mass of multiple mismatched limbs, all strewn together into a hulking, massive, discolored body, if it could even be called that at all. And, resting at the center of where its face would have been if it had one, was a very familiar cluster of conjoined gemstones.

“C-Connie?” Steven whispered, gripping her hand tighter as this monster began lumbering its way towards them through the mess it had made earlier. “I-I think that’s one of the Gem mutants I was telling you about…”

“What? Are you sure?” Connie asked, her voice just as quiet, even though they had clearly already attracted the mutant’s attention.

“Preeeeetty sure at this point,” the young Gem nodded stiffly, knowing this creature looked quite close to the ones they had encountered at the Kindergarten the other week.

“Well then, we got this sword back at just the right time,” Connie scowled towards the mutant as she swiftly drew Rose’s sword, wielding the massive blade with both hands as she took up an offensive stance. Steven watched in amazement as she rushed forwards, seemingly undeterred as she pulled the mighty sword back before delivering a clean swipe straight through the mutant’s weighty midsection before it could even try to attack. With a pained whine, the forced fusion imploded, its shard-composed gemstone tumbling to the floor before Steven ran forward to bubble it and send it away.

“Looks like you were right,” Connie said, still gripping Rose’s sword tightly as she looked around for any more. “Those rocks really were Gem mutants after all.”

“Yeah, but why would they be-” Steven was cut off as a loud crash sounded out from the other end of the hall. This was immediately and unsurprisingly followed by the emergence of even more gem mutants, both big and small, rounding the corner en masse as they walked, crawled, sidled, anything they could to inch their way towards the aptly frightened pair. “Uh, C-Connie? I think now would be a good time to run!” Steven warned, grabbing her by the arm as he tried to pull her down the other way.

“No, Steven, I can take them!” Connie protested, already positioning her sword to strike.

“I-I know, but still!” Steven pleaded, fearful for her safety more than his own really. After all, the last thing he wanted was to see her get hurt as a result of overconfidence in her newly acquired blade, even as powerful as it was. “We gotta get the Gems! They can help us take care of these things before they can make it into the ballroom and end up hurting someone!”

“…You’re right,” Connie begrudgingly relented, sheathing her blade. “So come on, then! We have to hurry!”

“Right!” Steven readily agreed, leading the way out of the hallway that had already been claimed and decimated by the marauding gem mutants.

As Steven and Connie began their hasty flight through the mansion’s lofty halls, Dipper and Pacifica continued theirs, with the former still chasing after the latter in the hopes of reclaiming the journal before the ghost could catch up to them.

“Pacifica!” Dipper shouted after the heiress, quite surprised at how fast she was. “I’m serious! Give me back the journal, now!”

“Why should I?” Pacifica countered just as harshly. “So you can go running back to that room, get mud all over the floors, and get me in trouble with my parents? Because last time I checked, that’s not what you’re here for!”

“You’re right, I’m here to get rid of that ghost!” Dipper reiterated, severely annoyed. “But I can’t do that if you won’t let me just because your scared of setting off your parents for some weird reason!”

“I already told you!” the heiress shot back, gripping the journal in her arms tightly as she continued running. “You don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand!” Dipper urged, both out of frustration and genuine curiosity as to why she seemed so adamant about all this. Interestingly enough though, this was what finally got Pacifica to stop in her tracks, her expression startled and strangely soft as she turned to face him.

“W-what?” she asked rather quietly, taken aback that anyone would even inquire about the matter at all, especially him. However, before Dipper could even reply, a brand new threat made itself apparent as it slammed down into the space directly behind Pacifica from the high ceiling above. It was a tall, lanky creature, with six disproportionate arms and no face to speak of as it balanced on a pair of long, mismatched legs amidst towering over the frightened heiress, letting out a low, threatening groan all the while. Pacifica let out a horrified scream at this grotesque creature as it started to advance on her, her long dress tripping her up as she clumsily fell to the ground, shielding herself with her arm as the creature raised one of its many arms with the intent to strike. And yet… it was a strike she never felt.

Hesitantly, Pacifica opened her tightly shut eyes and took a glance back towards the monster, only to see something that shocked her just as much as its sudden appearance had. For standing squarely in between her and the multi-limbed creature was none other than Dipper, his sword raised as he firmly, fearlessly pressed back against the many hands pressed against it. Yet all the same he held his ground, his footing steady and his expression fierce as he warded off the mutant, eventually managing to push it back enough to give himself enough space to properly fight it. All the while, Pacifica remained practically frozen to her spot on the ground, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped as she watched in absolute awe as Dipper rushed towards the monster with a courageous shout, lashing out with his blade as he maneuvered with skill and ease. The creature was unable to keep up with him as he dodged its slow, sloppy movements, and in what seemed like no time at all, the tip of his sword had punctured the monster squarely in its back, resulting in its hideous form poofing into nothing more than a mismatched cluster of gem shards.

“A Gem mutant?” Dipper frowned in confusion as he carefully picked the compiled stone. “How’d this get in here? Pacifica, do you know anything about this thing?”

Strangely, he received no answer from the heiress as he glanced back to look at her, only to find that she was staring up at him, seemingly captivated, though for what reason, he had no idea. Still, try as she might, Pacifica couldn’t convince her body or her mind to respond properly as her thoughts raced randomly and her cheeks began flushing warm and pink as she kept her eyes on the boy who had effectively just saved her life. She couldn’t deny that, with both his suit and hair as mildly yet endearingly disheveled as they were, resolve and adrenaline still sparking in his eyes, and the sword still held confidently in his hand, he did look the slightest bit dashing, almost heroic even, though she’d never dare to admit that out loud.

“Uh… Pacifica? Are you ok?” Dipper asked, making the heiress realize that she had gone far too long without taking her eyes off him.

“W-wha—oh, uh, y-yeah!” she exclaimed, clearly flustered as she rejected the hand he had offered to help her stand in favor of doing so on her own. “I-I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t be. That weird arm thing wasn’t even that scary.”

“Oh sure it wasn’t,” Dipper remarked with a wry, rather playful smirk. “That’s why you screamed in terror as soon as you saw it, right?”

Pacifica shot him a disapproving glare at this, though it wasn’t as harsh as it admittedly could have been as she shoved the journal back into his arms. “Here, take you lame nerd book back,” she huffed, still trying to suppress her ongoing blush. “So… uh… where’d you learn how to do that?”

“Do what?”

“You know…” she held her hands behind her back as she nodded to his sword casually enough. “That.”

“Oh, sword fighting?” Dipper clarified, glancing to his blade before sheathing it. “Me and Connie have been taking lessons from Pearl for the past few weeks. It tends to come in handy when you deal with stuff like this a lot, which… yeah, I kinda do.”

“And… your family’s just… ok with you running around with a dangerous sword all the time?” Pacifica asked, slightly baffled by such apparent freedom.

“Uh… yeah?” Dipper shrugged, unsure of what she meant by this question. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

The heiress didn’t answer as she glanced down somewhat, her brow furrowing in both confusion and what almost felt like envy, though that couldn’t possibly be right. After all, how in the world could someone as well off and highly esteemed as her be jealous of someone as common and unrefined as him?

While it was quite likely that the ghost had lost track of them in the chaos that had just ensued, Dipper didn’t want to take any chances, which was why he took the lead in moving on. However, they barely even rounded the corner before they were held up again, though this time by it fortunately wasn’t by the ghost or any Gem mutants, but rather by Steven and Connie as they all accidentally happened to run smack into each other.

“Wha—Steven? Connie?” Dipper frowned in confusion upon seeing the pair at such a random juncture. “What are you guys doing here? Why aren’t you back at the party?”

“W-well, we got my mom’s sword back,” Steven began anxiously. “But then we ran into a ton of Gem mutants, just like the ones we fought at the Kindergarten!”

“Wait, you mean there are even more of those things running around here?” Dipper asked incredulously as he handed the remains of the mutant he had defeated over to Steven so it could be bubbled. “We were just attacked by one. How’d they even get into the mansion in the first place?”

“I don’t know…” Connie mused, her tone and expression growing quite suspicious as she glanced over at the nearby heiress. “That’s a really good question, isn’t it, Pacifica?”

“Oh what? You think I have something to do with this?” Pacifica asked harshly.

“Well, seeing as how all these Gem clusters were in a display case in your mansion, so it only makes sense that you’d know something about how they ended up here.”

“Well, I don’t,” the heiress huffed, her hands on her hips. “My parents probably bought them for the party and didn’t know they were actually gross, grabby, nightmarish freakshows.”

“Actually, they’re shattered Gems who were forced to fuse with each other,” Steven said with a sympathetic frown for the mutants’ plight.

“…I literally have no idea what any of that means,” Pacifica said, clearly out of the context loop. “Still, I don’t know anything about how those things wound up here.”

“Oh yeah? And how do we know you’re actually telling the truth?” Connie asked, still rather distrustful. And really, she believed she had every reason to be, given just how dangerous these Gem mutants were and just how not coincidental their presence in the mansion seemed to be. “After all, your family has a known history of lying when it comes to their dirty little secrets, so it wouldn’t be surprising at all if you inherited that bad habit right alongside all the money you don’t deserve.”

Pacifica let out an appalled gasp at this, outraged and offended by such an accusation as she took a bold, almost threatening step forward. “Ok, you know what, Maheswaran, I’m gonna-”

“Whoa, ok, hold it!” Dipper quickly interjected before any sort of scuffle could break out, both him and Steven rushing in to stand between the two incensed girls. “Connie, I know you’re uh, not really a fan of Pacifica, but as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think she’s lying about this.”

“Seriously, Dipper?” Connie scoffed. “You know how she is, we all do! Heck, for all you know, she could be lying to you about this whole ’ghost’ thing too!”

Dipper was actually quite prepared to correct Connie on this, not noticing Pacifica flinch slightly behind him as she realized this accusation was at least partially true. However, he really didn’t have to as the lumberjack ghost’s laughter began booming through the nearby corridor once again as he started to catch up with his victims.

“Its time to stop running, Northwest, and face you DOOM!” he shouted, finally appearing at the end of the hall with blue flames sparking all over his frightening form. All four of the kids let out a shared scream of terror as the spirit soared towards them at a breakneck speed, and all of the discourse concerning mutants and lies was quickly left behind as they unintentionally split up. Steven and Connie took off in the hallway they had just ran down, wanting to get back to the ballroom and find the Gems now more than ever with the appearance of this new ghostly threat. Still, the spirit paid them no mind as he continued pursuing his original targets, who were both desperately searching for any way they could find to subdue the ghost as they fled from him. In their frantic rush, they haphazardly turned a corner, only for Pacifica to end up tripping over her dress once more. She happened to grab Dipper by the sleeve in a last ditch attempt at steadying herself, only for them both to end up falling towards the nearby wall. Or rather, right through it. The ghost didn’t see this fortunately, as he glided straight on by while the pair tumbled into an apparently hidden storage room inconspicuously hidden behind a large tapestry.

“Huh? What’s this place?” Dipper asked as both him and Pacifica picked themselves up, glancing around the apparent collection of the Northwest’s various treasures and portraits.

“I… don’t know…” Pacifica admitted in apt confusion. “That’s weird. I don’t even know where this room is…”

“Hopefully the ghost and those Gem mutants don’t either…” Dipper remarked, taking a cursory peek back into the hallway.

“Yeah, maybe we’re safe,” the heiress let out a somewhat relieved breath, not noticing as the large sheet covering a painting behind her began to swell forward on its own accord. Dipper fortunately caught sight of this just in time as the sheet began to take on the clear, massive shape, one that reached out over Pacifica slowly and threateningly.

“Pacifica! Watch out!” he warned, drawing his sword as he rushed forward to defend her. Pacifica let out a frightened gasp as the ghost tossed the sheet away, laughing menacingly as he towered over her.

“Your fate is sealed!” the specter proclaimed, his blue flames rising as he prepared to strike the terrified heiress down once and for all. Dipper had just about reached her, unsure of what he was really going to do against the ghost with his sword alone, but he stopped short immediately upon noticing a discarded antique lying on the floor nearby, none other than a small, pure silver mirror.

“Prepare to die, Northwest!” the ghost shouted, his axe raised to deliver the final blow. Pacifica quickly braced herself for what would likely be a very painful end, only for Dipper to end up saving her from it at the last second. However, instead of doing so with his sword, this time he did so with the mirror, and the moment the ghost’s weapon made contact with it, everything seemed to happen at once. The entire room was engulfed in a blinding flash as Dipper was knocked back into Pacifica, who herself was pushed back towards the room’s small, low to the ground window. The pair was still completely in the dark about what was happening as they were practically launched out of the window, entangling themselves in its curtains as they rolled down a short hill, finally landing together at the bottom of it, breathless and rattled, but largely unharmed.

“W-what happened?” Pacifica asked her and Dipper both pulled themselves up. “Did you get him?”

At this, they both looked to the mirror, only to find an incredibly relieving sight: the ghost was trapped securely inside of it, demanding his freedom in an absolute fit of rage as he pounded against the other side of the glass to no avail. “Ha! Yes!” Dipper cheered, satisfied that at the very least one threat had been neutralized.

“We did it!” Pacifica exclaimed just as triumphantly, throwing her arms around Dipper without really thinking about it. Needless to say he was complete caught off guard by this unexpected hug, especially given the fact that it was coming from the heiress of all people. Still, what baffled him even more was the sudden rush of warmth he felt in his cheeks, coupled with the odd, yet strangely wistful feeling of not wanting it to end. It did, however, as Pacifica realized exactly what she was doing, her blush even brighter than Dipper’s as she quickly pulled away, averting his gaze as she awkwardly cleared her throat, wishing she could calm her racing heart and confused, flustered thoughts down already as she pulled out a dollar. “Uh… c-can I pay you to pretend that never happened?”

Despite being held up by the occasional minor Gem mutant, Steven and Connie eventually managed to navigate their way back to the main ballroom, only to stop short in surprise upon realizing that no one at the party was even remotely aware of the dangers lurking the halls just behind them. The pair ran into the midst of the celebrating crowd, more than ready to warn them all to flee the premises before it was too late. However, before they could even get a single person’s attention, they happened to accidently bump into the last person Connie had wanted to encounter at the moment.

“M-Mom!” she exclaimed in surprise upon running right into her mother’s torso. The doctor paused, looking away from the conversation she had been engaged in to her daughter instead, only to freeze with shock and motherly fury upon noticing the large pink sword strapped to her back.

“Connie!” Priyanka gasped, appalled. “How did you even—what are you doing with that?! I made a rule, no swords under any circumstances!”

“But mom-” Connie tried to argue, knowing that she needed to be armed in the dire circumstances they were facing.

“No,” the doctor interupted rigidly. “I told you once, and I can’t believe I have to tell you again! But its clear to me now that I can’t even trust you to so much as listen to me even after I put my foot down! So you leave me with no choice; you’re grounded until further notice. Hand that sword over, now.”

“But Mom, you don’t understand, I-”

“I said now!”

Connie flinched, clearly startled by her mother’s incredibly harsh tone as she let out a defeated sigh. With no other choice, she took the sword off her back and relinquished it, largely feeling as though she was handing over a piece of herself in the process. And as Steven caught sight of her utterly dejected expression, he found he could no longer stand by in silence.

“Er, Dr. Maheswaran, wait! You can’t take that sword away from Connie! She needs it—we need it to-”

“That’s quite enough,” Priyanka cut him off, sending him a fierce warning glare. “I’m not going to argue over this sword nonsense any longer. It’s done.”

“Mom, please-” Connie pleaded desperately only to be shot down one final time as her mother began to walk off, sword in hand.

“Done!” she reiterated, glaring back at her daughter with what was nothing less than absolute disappointment. Disappointment that left Connie feeling crushed even more than losing her sword had.

“So… what now?” Steven asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I guess we just go find the Gems and let them save the day, as usual…” Connie sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she morosely headed off to do just that. Of course, what neither of the pair was aware of was that the Gems had actually taken their ongoing vandalizing spree up onto the roof, where they were currently in the process of spelling out the word “snobs” in huge letters using paint Amethyst had “happened to find”, much to the enjoyment of the still large crowd gathered outside the gates below. But even still, Steven and Connie began duly, almost solemnly even pressing their way through the party, knowing that with the horde of Gem mutants drawing ever closer and Rose’s sword no longer a viable option, they were the only hope they had left.

With the ghost finally subdued and captured, Dipper and Pacifica blithely went to go report their shared success to the heiress’ parents. And while the Northwests weren’t as openly elated or excited as the young pair, they were still quite relieved to know that their haunting had been taken care of and their immaculate party saved.

“Well, Pacifica, you really found the right man for the job,” Preston remarked, snapping his fingers to signal to the nearby butler to shake Dipper’s hand in his place.

“We can’t thank you enough,” Priscilla said before a brief pause that ended with her nodding to the butler. “That’s enough.”

“Hey, just holding up my end of the deal,” Dipper grinned as he took the mirror the ghost was in and prepared to head out.

“Wait, leaving already?” Pacifica asked in slight disappointment. “You’re at the world’s best party, dummy. Are you sure you wanna go so soon?”

“Well I’d love to stay,” Dipper said with a smile just as playful as the heiress’. “But I’ve got a category 10 ghost to dispose of and then I should really go help Steven and Connie out with the rest of those Gem mutants.”

“Oh that’s right, I almost forgot just how adventurous your life is,” Pacifica rolled her eyes with a lightly teasing smirk.

“Heh, yeah,” Dipper chuckled, not paying too much attention to where he was going as he kept his sights on the heiress behind him. Which was how he ended up walking straight into one of the garden’s pillars. Pacifica was unable to contain her laughter at this, something that flustered Dipper quite a bit as he backed up and tried to play his clumsiness off as intentional. “O-oh, uh, l-like you said: a-adventurous.”

“Oh yeah, running into a pillar,” Pacifica quipped, still chuckling. “That’s totally an epic quest right there.”

Despite still being somewhat embarrassed, Dipper couldn’t help but finally join in on the heiress’ ongoing amused laughter, something that only died down between them as he sent her a small wave of farewell, one that she returned with a warm, genuine smile. He held up a similar smile as he departed, unable to deny that this misadventure, despite all of its harrowing moments, had ended on a much better note than he had could have ever expected anything pertaining to Pacifica Northwest to. For instead of being just as closed off and callously coldhearted as she had always come across to him before, it seemed as though there was another side to her: a playful, daring, capable side that came across as so much more authentic than the haughty front she usually seemed to put up. And even more unexpected than that was the fact that he had found himself taking a genuine liking of that side of the heiress, one that he hoped to see again in any of their future encounters. “Call me crazy, but… maybe she’s not so bad after all…” Dipper remarked to himself once he was out of the heiress’ earshot, surprised that he was even admitting something like that, but pleasantly surprised nonetheless.

His satisfaction was soon cut short, however, as a mocking, knowing laugh sounded from within the mirror in his hand. “What are you laughing about, man?” Dipper asked, glancing down at the trapped ghost in apt confusion. “I defeated you.”

“You’ve been had, boy,” the ghost said with another bitter laugh. “The Northwests lied to you, just as they did to me and my kin one hundred and fifty years ago.”

“…What do you mean?” Dipper ventured, genuinely curious as the ghost began to recount his tale of woe.

“One hundred and fifty years ago this day, the Northwests asked us lumber-folk to build them a mansion atop the hill. We were told it would be a service to the town, that once a year they would throw a grand party that would be open to the people of Gravity Falls, and all would share in the bounty of their wealth! It took years of backbreaking labor and sacrifice, but the promise of such a luxorious feast kept all of us going as we worked towards the manor’s completion, aided by a group of strong, magical, yet kindly women the Northwests had contracted to help the project along.”

“Wait, magical women?” Dipper interrupted, intrigued by this point in particular. “You mean the Crystal Gems?”

“Yes,” the ghost nodded disdainfully. “The Crystal Gems were invaluable in helping us raise these stately halls, but on the night we needed them most, they were nowhere to be found to stop the injustice committed against us lumberjacks. For when it was time for the grand party the Northwests promised the common folk of the town, they coldly refused to let us in. And with the trees we had cut to build the mansion gone, the mudslides began. While they partied and laughed, I was swept away by the storm and met my end to the very axe I had used to build their undeserved empire. And so I said with final breath: ‘One-fifty years I’ll return from death, and if the gate’s still closed to the town, wealthy blood will stain the ground!’ A curse passed down across every generation of Northwests, even to this day.”

“So… wait a minute,” Dipper said once the ghost was finished, quickly putting the pieces together of how everything he had just heard related back to the present. Which, in turn created a picture he was far from happy with. “The Northwests knew this haunting was coming, and they tricked me into helping them to avoid ghostly justice? …I’ll be right back…”

With the state of the party as seemingly secured as it was, Pacifica had returned to her expected spot by her parents’ side as they mingled with their wealthy guests. Yet her thoughts were hardly in the fancy festivities going on around her as they usually were during Northwest Fest and instead they were focused on the boy she had spent the earlier half of her evening with. She found it so incredibly strange that just a few hours ago, she had barely even spared a second thought towards Dipper, viewing him as just as common and ordinary as anyone else. Yet now, after the past few hours of narrowly surviving a deadly haunting with him, she couldn’t deny that he somehow fascinated her in ways that confused yet excited her all at once. And as she thought about his brazen swordsmanship, his clever readiness for almost any situation, his awkward yet almost frustratingly endearing laughter, Pacifica couldn’t help but sail through the evening with a distant, almost dreamy smile on her face, one that was filled with an unknown yet brimming longing to see him again.

A longing that was incidentally fulfilled sooner than she thought it would; though in the last way she could have wanted it to.

The Northwests were in the midst of entertaining dignitaries in the foyer when the mansion’s front doors suddenly burst open, revealed an incredibly indignant Dipper behind them. “Northwests!” he exclaimed angrily as he marched in, mirror still in hand. “You have some explaining to do!”

“Dipper! You came back!” Pacifica instantly perked up, a bright smile on her face as she began to rush over to him. Though it was quick to disappear as he shot her a particularly harsh, glare, one that was a very far cry from the warm smile he had left her with.

“You lied to me!” he accused furiously before addressing the entire family. “All of you did! All you had to do was let the townsfolk into the party and you could have broken the curse! But you just made me do your dirty work instead!”

Pacifica took in a sharp breath at this, knowing that he had discovered the one wrench in all of this that she had hoped he wouldn’t find out, especially as the newfound camaraderie began forming between them. But before she could even try to explain anything, her father was quick to only make things worse.

“Look at who you’re talking to, boy,” Preston began coldly, essentially ignoring the incredibly hostile scowl Dipper was sending up at him. “I’m hosting a party for the most powerful people in the world. Do you really think they’d come here if they had to rub elbows with your kind?”

“My kind?” Dipper repeated with an appalled scoff, not even bothering to contest the billionaire any further. After all, he had expected as much from the head of the Northwest household, but he had foolishly come to believe that their daughter was different, that she wasn’t just another pompous, heartless sob, that she had at least some redeeming shred of actual humanity in her. But as he had just discovered, none of that was true at all. “Looks like I was right about you all along,” he said to Pacifica bitterly, not even caring about her genuinely distraught expression. “You’re just as bad as your parents. Another link in the world’s worst chain!”

“N-no! Dipper, you don’t understand!” Pacifica protested earnestly, determined to set the record straight. “I’m sorry, they made me lie to you! I should have told you everything from the start, but-” The heiress was abruptly cut off by the sharp, sudden peal of the bell in her father’s hand, one that instantly silenced her back into submission as she glanced down submissively, ashamed by her own inability to resist it, ashamed by the fact that she had even agreed to this deceptive charade in the first placed, ashamed by everything really, but mostly, she was ashamed of herself.

“Enjoy the party,” Preston remarked mockingly as Dipper turned to head out, not even bothering to send Pacifica a second glance in his palpable fury, something that made her heart ache even more than just about anything else. “It’s the last time you and your kind will ever come.”

As vehemently outraged with the Northwests as he was, Dipper knew there wasn’t much he could do get back at them for their despicable actions. So instead of frustrating himself further, he sullenly took the mirror outside, following the journal’s instructions to create the proper setup needed to oust the ghost from the mortal plane. “Stupid Northwests, making me do their exorcism for them,” he grumbled to himself after placing the mirror at the center of the circle of candles. With everything in place, he began to read the journal’s spell to get rid of ghosts, though given the circumstances, he was hardly invested in the matter whatsoever “‘Exodus demonous, spookus scarus, aintafraidus noghostus’-”

“Dipper… Dipper!” the ghost called from within the mirror. “Please let me have my revenge on the Northwests. You hate them just as much as I!”

“Hey, I feel for you, I really do,” Dipper conceded and it was true, for more reasons than one. Even aside from the fact that they had both been made fools of by the Northwests, this ghost wasn’t exactly the first being trapped inside a mirror he had taken pity on. “It’s just… my sister and my friends are in there and you seem just a little unstable…”

“Very well, boy,” the ghost hung his head in apparent acceptance of his fate. “But… before you banish my soul, may these tired lumber eyes gaze upon the trees one final time?”

“Uh, I guess,” Dipper said, somewhat confused by this odd request though he obliged nonetheless, picking the mirror up and holding it towards the nearby forest. “Go nuts, man.”

Upon getting even just a glimpse at the trees, the ghost laughed wildly as the sight of the forest empowered him enough to ignite his flames brighter and hotter, to the point that their heat rapidly spread to his mirror prison itself. Dipper didn’t even have time to be confused about what was happening before the mirror’s handle suddenly turned red hot, burning his hand to the point that he was forced to let go of it. The glass shattered the instant it made contact with the ground and with it the ghost exploded from its ruined shards, paying no mind to the startled boy who had accidentally released him as he set his sights on the mansion once more.

“Yes! Vengeance!” he proclaimed with a triumphant laugh, speeding towards the manor with the intent of finally fulfilling his bloodthirsty vendetta.

“Oh no!” Dipper exclaimed, aptly alarmed as he remembered who else was still in the mansion. “Mabel! Steven! Connie!” Despite his lasting anger at the Northwests, he knew well that he couldn’t let the ghost accomplish his violent ends so long as innocent people were in danger. Which was why, after making sure his blade was strapped securely to his back, he rushed back up towards the mansion, unsure of what he was going to do to stop this disaster but determined to try rather than do nothing, as he assumed the Northwests were very likely to do.

With their freeform destruction on the roof complete, the Gems returned to the party proper, mischievous grins on their faces as they continued their own form of “revenge” by turning over tables, piercing through expensive paintings, and breaking priceless antiques. Of course, they were always discreet enough in doing so that no one really noticed, but still, they couldn’t deny that they were all three having genuine fun in their righteous form of destruction against the wealthy family. When it came right down to it, it almost felt nostalgic, at least to Garnet and Pearl as they recalled helping break apart the similar upper-crust regime of Homeworld centuries ago. And though this was indeed on a much smaller scale than that, they still couldn’t deny that it felt incredibly cathartic all the same.

Not too far away from the tapestry the Gems were currently tearing apart, Mabel and Candy were carrying out their strategic plan to flirt with Marius, with the former boldly taking the lead as she approached the baron with a wide, cheerful smile. “Hi, I’m Mabel!” she greeted loudly, catching Marius somewhat off guard. “So, Australia, huh? Do you guys eat kangaroo meat over there, or, uh… a-are they strictly pets?”

“I am from Austria,” Marius corrected with a confused frown.

“Haha! Yeah!” Mabel let out a forced, awkward laugh, panicking as she tapped Candy’s shoulder. “Tag! Tag!”

“I am Candy!” the other girl said to the baron as she took over just as brightly. “I love the tiny hats you wear on your shoulders!”

“Hi again!” Mabel cut back in, roughly pushing Candy aside in light of this. “If you were a boat, do you know what kind you’d be? A dream boat, that’s what kind.”

“You are tagged out!” Candy protested in a harsh whisper as she elbowed Mabel.

“I tagged back in,” Mabel pushed her back crossly.

“You can’t do that!”

“I can tag myself! Its allowed!”

“No, its not!”

“Yeah, it is!”

As the girls continued to bicker amongst themselves, the very confused Marius nervously retreated, unsure of how to react to them so clearly arguing over him. They also failed to notice that someone else had watched this entire embarrassing display, and she was far from pleased with what she had just seen. “Ahem!” Grenda interjected, hands on her hips as she cut through Mabel and Candy’s argument. “What exactly was all that?! You were flirting with Marius without me!”

At this, the pair exchanged a tense glance, knowing that there was really no playing any of this off as they had been caught red-handed. “W-we are sorry, Grenda,” Candy began, genuinely apologetic. “It’s just…”

“Your flirting style can come across as a bit… intense…” Mabel continued rather hesitantly.

“Oh, I see!” Grenda scoffed, thoroughly offended by this opinion. “You think I shouldn’t be myself just because I’m at this stupid mansion! I thought you liked my style!”

“We do!” Candy affirmed. “But these boys might not!”

“Oh, then I guess they wouldn’t like this either! Hey, Marius!”

“Yah?” the baron asked curiously as he wandered back over to the group.

Grenda paused briefly, looking to her friends with a critical glare as they both shook their heads with silent pleas for her to stop before it was too late. But of course, as angry as she was, she refused to comply with them and ‘flirted’ with Marius anyway. “You’ve got something… on your shit!” Of course, the baron glanced down, only for Grenda to launch her finger upward to hit his nose rather unforgivingly. Mabel and Candy gasped in shock at Grenda’s apparent audacity, and, with all three of them equally frustrated with each other, they all stormed away from each other in a huff without sparing another word. Still, none of them paid much mind to the rather stunned baron they had left behind, who looked off in the direction of the girl who had so aggressively “flirted” with him with amazed stars of newfound infatuation in his eyes.

After what felt like ages of searching in vain for the Gems, Steven and Connie eventually gave up, opting to rethink their options when it came to dealing with the infestation of Gem mutants. An infestation that was more than likely to make it into the ballroom itself sooner rather than later.

“We’re running out of time,” Connie noted, peaking down the nearby hallway for any signs of approaching mutants. “If we don’t hurry, then those mutants could end up hurting someone!”

“Yeah, but what can we do?” Steven asked fretfully. “We can’t find the Gems and your mom took my mom’s sword… Huh, that’s… actually kinda ironic now that I think about it…”

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Connie said with firm resolve, ignoring her issues with her mother for the moment for the sake of the greater good. “We’re going to handle this problem ourselves, sword or no sword, whether my mother likes it or not!”

“Excuse me?”

Both kids let out a startled gasp as they spun around to find none other that Priyanka herself standing right behind them, having sifted her way through the crowd in search of her daughter only to find her at the exact wrong moment. The doctor still had Rose’s sword tucked under her arm, her expression completely shocked and outraged over what she had just heard, but even so, Connie had no intention of retracting what she had said.

“M-Mom, I… You have to listen to me listen to me,” she began somewhat unsteadily, though her confidence started to grow as she reached for the sword. “I really, really, really need that sword! If you don’t give it to me, then a lot of innocent people could be in huge danger!”

“What? Connie, no!” Priyanka staunchly refused, holding the blade up as her daughter continued trying to grab it. “What has gotten into you? You know I never go back on a rule, young lady.”

“But there has to be some exceptions!” Connie argued fiercely. “I’m not some… rule-driven robot!”

As soon as she had said this, a brutal crash sounded from the end of the nearby hallway, one that was immediately followed by the appearance of a very large Gem mutant, one that didn’t hesitate to lunge forward towards the group near the ballroom. “W-what on earth is that thing?!” Priyanka asked, protectively gripping her daughter’s shoulder tightly.

“It’s a Gem mutant!” Steven exclaimed, determined to help Connie fend it off as his shield formed over his arm. “It’s why you have to let Connie have that sword back, Dr. Maheswaran! So she can beat it and protect everyone here!”

“Wha—b-but-” the doctor’s protests were cut off as the mutant pounced, one of its many hands reaching out and grabbing the closest thing to it, which just so happened to be Connie. “Connie!”

“M-Mom!” Connie called back as the mutant began dragging her towards it, its grip on her strong, despite her attempts to break free from it.

“I’ll save you!” Steven exclaimed, rushing forward before slamming his shield into the mutant’s side, forcing it to relinquish its hold. “Keep away from my Connie!”

The mutant let out a threatening groan as it shoved the young Gem back roughly, still towering over the group as more creatures began filling in behind it, pressing the trio back towards the ballroom. “T-these things are beyond reason!” Priyanka shook her head, unable to believe what she was witnessing.

“Mom, if you would go back on your rule this one time!” Connie pleaded, feeling largely useless against this threat without a sword in her hand. “I just need to help Steven get us out of here!”

“No! Mother knows best!” Priyanka reiterated harshly, still keeping the sword away from her daughter, even despite the growing danger.

“W-we can’t let these things into the ballroom!” Steven cried, struggling to maintain his stance as the largest mutant continued pressing against his shield. The smaller mutants were starting to maneuver their way around the group, crawling up the walls and ceiling as they essentially surrounded them, though they still didn’t work their way into the ballroom just yet. Upon seeing this, the young Gem gasped but reacted accordingly, abandoning his shield for a bubble instead, though the mutants continued pounding against it just as viciously.

“W-we’re trapped!” the doctor exclaimed, quite alarmed by this turn of events.

“We don’t have to be!” Connie proclaimed, her expression adamant as she turned to face her mother, refusing to give up in these dire straits. “Really, Mom. I know how to do this!”

“No, you don’t!” Priyanka argued, just as resilient on her side of the matter as her daughter was.

“Ugh, yes, she does!” Steven cut in quite impatiently, knowing they were wasting very precious time fighting like this. “She’s been training! She hasn’t just been playing around with that sword! She’s been taking classes learning how to use it right! Even though she’s always studying, or practicing tennis, or playing violin, she still works really hard to be a good sword fighter and she is!”

“No,” the doctor quickly denied, refusing to believe anything of the sort. “No, no, no, no, no. I know my daughter! I know what she’s doing every second of the day. All her activities, all her internets, everything. I know she’s definitely not some sword fighting hooligan!”

By this point, Connie had gotten to the point where enough was enough. For as long as she could remember, she had always rigidly stuck to whatever her parents had told her, complying perfectly for the sake of winning their approval and pride more than anything else. It was tedious, laborious, even difficult at some points giving their very high standards for her. But now, such standards could no longer apply. Because not only were they in a life or death situation, but things had changed. She had changed. It was a shift that everyone who knew her, everyone who came in contact with her had been able to see, especially herself. Everyone but her own mother, it seemed. “You don’t know me at all!” Connie finally exploded, beyond frustrated with her mother’s stubbornness by now. “You still haven’t even noticed my glasses!”

“W-what about your glasses?”

“They don’t have lenses anymore!” Connie huffed, taking her frames off and sticking her finger straight through them. “I haven’t needed actual glasses for almost the entire summer!”

“What?!” Priyanka asked, completely baffled. “Your eyesight just… magically got better?”

“Yes!” Connie shouted adamantly as Steven shrugged in slight embarrassment, given his involvement in all this. “I’ve been dealing with magic and monsters and things like these,” she pointed to one of the mutants beating against the side of the bubble. “Ever since I met Steven! That’s why I need you to just trust me and believe that I know what to do here!”

The doctor paused, her expression softening somewhat as she looked to her daughter with genuine conflict before looking back to the pressing danger that was so clearly surrounding them all. “B-but… you-”

Before Priyanka could get another word out, the entire mansion itself seemed to shake, accompanied by what sounded like a massive explosion coming from the ballroom itself. All of the party guests let out a collective gasp as the room’s large fireplace swelled dramatically, and from its sparking embers, the lumberjack ghost emerged, laughing manically as he prepared to rain righteous devastation down upon the entire party.

“Generations locked away, my revenge shall have its day!” he shouted boisterously, blasts of blue light bursting from his palms. As this apparent magic struck several of the party guests, the effects were immediate, their bodies starting to freeze before slowly turning into hollow, immovable, non-sentient wood.

And from that moment, the entire ballroom erupted into complete and utter chaos.

Aside from the petrifying blasts the ghost continued firing off at random, his power also brought the mansion’s many taxidermized displays to life, with the dead animals terrorizing every guest who had been lucky enough to escape being transformed into wooden statues. Nature itself soon started to overtake the hall, with vines and tree limbs bursting through the floor and entrapping more unfortunate attendees for the ghost to cast his horrific spell upon them. Almost as soon as this disaster had begun, the Northwests had been quick to tuck themselves out of sight, unable to do anything else but watch as their elegant party and their mansion itself began to crumble right before their eyes.

“Preston, what are we going to do!?” Priscilla cried mournfully, though her husband remained stoic in his cowardly plan.

“Prepare the panic room,” he remarked coldly, punching a taxidermized squirrel off of his shoulder.

While the Northwests had no intention of doing anything to stop this violent onslaught, the Gems were quick to notice it, forcing them to quickly put their ongoing vandalism aside as they leapt into action. “Whoa, isn’t that guy one of those lumberjacks from way back when?” Amethyst asked, summoning her whip as she beat back a mounted deer head. “Pretty sure that dude should be dead by now, shouldn’t he?”

“He is” Garnet confirmed, gauntlets at the ready. “That’s a ghost.”

“Well, he’ll be even less than a ghost once we’re through with him!” Pearl exclaimed boldly, finally calling the specter’s attention. “You! We demand that you put a stop to this senseless destruction and release these innocent humans at once!”

The ghost did take pause at this, though only to turn to the Gems with an expectant, almost smug grin as he glided towards them. “Ah, the Crystal Gems, what ages have past since we last met?” he asked almost calmly before a certain bitterness started to enter his tone. “I suppose its only fitting that you would stand to defend those treacherous Northwest scum even all these years later. After all, you did the very same thing one hundred and fifty years ago by not rising to the occasion to ensure my brethren and I the justice we deserved!”

“We’re not defending the Northwests,” Garnet countered, her gauntlets in tight fists. “We never would. Especially after we found out what happened that night.”

“So you DO know!” the ghost exclaimed, his flames rising in fury upon hearing this. “And yet you still did NOTHING to stop it!”

“If we had been there, we certainly would have!” Pearl protested firmly. “But we were away on a mission that night; we only found out about the Northwests breaking their promise from the other lumberjacks the next day! And believe us, we’ve condemned them for their horrible actions against you all ever since!”

“Oh you have?” the ghost scoffed, clearly not believing this claim. “Then answer me this: why are the mansion gates still closed, one-fifty years on!? Why have you not forced the Northwests to right the wrongs of their sinister past? Why have you failed to do what you promised: to protect this town and its people from the evil lying right within its own borders?!”

The Gems exchanged a rather surprised glance at this, none of them quite sure of what to say at such a strong accusation of their apparent failure. But really, when it came down to it, there had been nothing they could have really done to correct this unfair situation. They couldn’t force the Northwests to open their gates to the common folk, they hadn’t been able to keep that initial rejection from happening in the first place and they couldn’t keep it from happening now. It was a delicate situation, a very human situation that the Crystal Gems had found themselves ill-equipped to deal with and still did. And, based on their lack of an answer, that was a conclusion the lumberjack ghost had already angrily reached.

“You three are no better than the very Northwests you claim to condemn,” he remarked hatefully and dismissively. “And for that, you deserve nothing more than to share their DOOMED fate!”

The Gems only had time to let out a shared gasp before the ghost struck them with his power, which, alarmingly enough, effected them in the exact same way it would any human. In mere seconds, all three of the Crystal Gems were nothing more than wooden statues, stuck frozen in offensive poses against a foe they were powerless to defeat.

“Oh no!” Steven gasped, completely distraught as he happened to watch this entire display from the edge of the hallway him, Connie, and Priyanka were still in. “The Gems!”

“Steven, no!” Connie stopped him before he could rush out, still mindful of the Gem mutants as well as the ghost. Unfortunately, it seemed as though these threats were starting to combine as mutants began pouring out of the other hallways, sulking into the ballroom and openly attacking the dwindling number of non-wooden guests right alongside the ghost himself.

It was this absolute state of pandemonium that Dipper returned to as he burst back into the mansion, breathless and soaking wet from the ongoing thunderstorm outside. He stopped immediately within the doorframe however upon taking in the disaster before him, with undead animals and marauding mutants running amok amidst the myriad of already petrified party guests. Dipper didn’t get much of a chance to analyze the situation however before a nearby Gem mutant lunged at him, prompting him to act on instinct in drawing his sword and stabbing it cleanly through right before it could reach him. However, there was little his blade could do to help the poor soul who was inching across the floor, his body already half wooden as he desperately tried to escape his fate. “P-please, help me!” the guest cried before the inevitable happened, entrapping him in an immovable, unaware wooden form.

“Whoa! That is messed up!” Dipper exclaimed in apt shock upon witnessing something so horrific, though the ghost was quick to divert his attention as he let out a rather fitting proclamation.

“Just one way to change your fate!” the specter shouted amidst turning even more terrified guests into wood. “A Northwest must open the party gates!”

“A Northwest?” Dipper gasped, realizing that this situation wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed. “Pacifica!” Knowing that there really wasn’t any other viable option for quelling the ghost’s intense, deadly fury, Dipper took off, cutting through any Gem mutant in his path as he went in search of the heiress, hoping that despite her earlier deceptiveness and dishonesty, she could still turn the tide in this mess once and for all.

At the same time, Steven, Connie, and Priyanka hung back a bit from the ballroom, mostly to avoid being detected by the ghost more than anything else as most of the Gem mutants had already pressed their way past them. Still, all three of them were quite shaken by the chaos playing out before them, especially the doctor as she shook her head in frightened disbelief.

“And now there’s a ghost too?” she asked, dumbfounded. “You mean to tell me that you kids deal with deadly threats like these on a daily basis?!”

“Um… yeah, kinda,” Steven shrugged with an awkward smile, hoping the truth wouldn’t set the doctor off even more.

“But like I said, we know how to handle it!” Connie argued brazenly. “We have experience, we can stop all this and save everyone, I know we can! I just need you to let us do that!”

Priyanka didn’t answer, instead peaking out into the tumultuous ballroom and then back to her daughter, clearly unable to make a choice about what to do or what to say. “C-Connie, I… I don’t…” she trailed off, true concern and fear in her eyes as she met her daughter’s still quite adamant expression. And while Connie was somewhat surprised by her mother’s near-allowance, she knew that she couldn’t afford to wait for it any longer.

“Ugh, there’s no time for this!” she groaned, finally doing what she had wanted to do from the very beginning. In a move to quick for Priyanka to stop her, Connie pulled Rose’s sword out of its sheath in her arms, gripping it tightly as Steven pushed the bubble forward into the ballroom proper, anticipating the fight that was about to commence.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Connie, who had already taken up an offensive pose as Gem mutants started crowding around them.

“Drop the bubble,” Connie nodded readily as Steven did just that.

With their only line of defense gone, Steven and Connie both leapt into action, the latter lashing out first to the mutant that tried to jump at Priyanka, only for her blade to end up slicing cleanly through it. At the same time, the young Gem beat a handful of smaller mutants back, but as he nodded to Connie once more, they both prepared for a maneuver that they had only ever practiced before, but finally felt ready to put to use in a real fight. With deft precision, Connie leapt to Steven, using his shield as a boost to gain the proper height to land a brutal finishing blow on a taller mutant, poofing it instant. Priyanka could only stand by and watch in dumbfounded awe as her daughter, usually so intellectually minded and well-mannered, sliced her way through these savage creatures with a kind of skill that was far beyond anything she had been expecting. Still, with the majority of mutants having taken to the ballroom, Steven and Connie knew they had no time to rest on their laurels as the danger running rampant throughout the party was still quite high.

“Steven, let’s split up to take care of the rest,” Connie ordered, stilling gripping Rose’s sword tightly. “Then maybe we can try to figure out some way to get rid of that ghost and free all those people.”

“Right!” Steven nodded affirmatively, his shield still positioned on his arm as he prepared to follow Connie out into the fray.

“Mom, stay here and don’t let that ghost see you,” Connie continued, her tone just as authoritative as she turned to her mother. “Steven and I have this covered.”

“C-Connie, wait!” Priyanka exclaimed, stopping her daughter by grabbing her shoulder. Connie shot her a rather upset glance at this, fully expecting her mother to try and restrain her and hold her back, just like she always did. But instead, she did something entirely different. “Be careful,” she urged, pulling her daughter into a loose, caring, but rather solemn embrace.

“…I will be,” Connie promised, letting out a small, somewhat remorseful sigh before the hug broke apart. “Now come on, Steven. We have a party to save.”

Seeing as how Pacifica had been nowhere to be found amidst the unfurling chaos of the ballroom itself, Dipper had no choice but to rush through the mansion’s halls in search of her, knowing that he had not a moment to waste. Fortunately, his search didn’t have to go on for too long as he happened to take a quick peek in the hidden room they had first captured the ghost in, only to find the heiress sitting there alone in the dark, knees pulled to her chest and her head bowed low in apparent shame.

“Pacifica!” Dipper exclaimed, rushing over to her, even despite that fact that she seemed to pay his entrance no mind whatsoever, even as he leaned down right next to her. “I’m so glad I found you! The ghost is back and he’s turning everyone to wood and he just started rhyming for some reason? B-but anyway, I need your help!” he urged, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to pull her up but she was quick to bitterly pull it away. “Pacifica?”

“You wanna know why this room was locked up?” Pacifica began, still averting his gaze as she coldly nodded up to the set of paintings sitting a few feet away from them. Paintings which depicted Northwests of the past taking part in deceptive, duplicitous, downright dastardly acts across history. “This is what I found in here. A painted record of every horrible thing my family’s ever done. Lying, cheating… and then there’s me. I lied to you just because I’m too scared to talk back to my stupid parents!” In a fit of apt rage, the heiress took off her expensive earrings, tossing them disdainfully towards another painting of her own parents before letting out a sigh of defeat. “You were right about me… I really am just another link in the world’s worst chain…”

Dipper took pause at this, unsure of really how to respond to the heiress’s palpable, genuine guilt. Immediately, he couldn’t help but regret his former harshness towards her, especially now that he knew she had only been following her parents’ rigid orders in tricking him. And yet, instead of offering an apology right away, he ended up going with a different tangent instead. “Well… you don’t have to be...”

“Huh?” Pacifica finally glanced over at him, confused.

“Just because you’re your parent’s daughter, doesn’t mean you have to be like them,” Dipper clarified, offering her a small, encouraging smile. “You don’t have to keep this terrible chain going; you can choose to break it, you can choose to be better than them!”

“Heh, you make it sound so easy…” Pacifica said with a bitter laugh. “And for someone like you, I guess it probably would be. You don’t have your parents standing over you almost every second of the day with some stupid bell, drilling it into your head that you have to be perfect, that you have to uphold the family reputation, that you have to be just like them otherwise you won’t ever be worth anything to anyone!”

By now, the heiress’ usual composure had completely crumbled as she let out a tight sob, with tears that she quickly tried to wipe away only for more to end up following it. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she felt doomed, doomed to repeat the treachery of her ancestors, doomed to keep this cycle of corruption going, doomed to be just another lying, cheating, heartless Northwest. It was a line of thinking that she had once been proud of, a legacy that she had willingly wanted to uphold. But now, it felt suffocating, agonizing even, as though it was pulling her down into a darkness she wanted no parts in, but would inevitably end up drowning in, no matter how hard she tried to resist it.

And yet… maybe she wouldn’t.

For as she felt herself slipping deeper into the darkness of this despair and awful repetition, an unexpected hand suddenly took hers, somehow steadying her and pulling her up out of that darkness by its mere contact alone. Pacifica drew in a small, tearful breath as she glanced up at Dipper, his expression sincere and sympathetic as he kept his firm, yet gentle grip on her hand all the while.

“Pacifica…” he began, his tone solemn yet steady. “You don’t actually believe any of that, do you?”

“I-I… I don’t know…” she shook her head truthfully, knowing that it was all she had ever been taught by her parents. Then again, it could have all just as easily been yet another lie, another fabrication to add on to the countless others her family was so infamous for. “I… I don’t… want to, I just… I guess… I just want to feel… free for a change…” Like you, she wanted to add, knowing that Dipper was perhaps one of the most unfettered people she had ever met. He could do what he wanted, say what he wanted, all without the fear or worry of anyone telling him that he couldn’t, that he had to conform to some strictly set standard that stood against everything he believed in. It was a bold, foreign concept to Pacifica, one that fascinated her to no end and made her wonder what it would be like if she was granted that much open, endless, liberating freedom herself. Freedom that she had only ever gotten close to as a result of being close to him.

“Well… then that’s up to you,” Dipper said, still smiling kindly to her. “Like I said, you don’t have to be what your parents say, especially if they’re trying to train you to be just as horrible as they are, no offense.”

“Believe me, none taken,” Pacifica remarked, unable to hold back a brief, sardonic laugh at this.

“But still,” Dipper continued, letting go of her hand, though he still kept his other one positioned on her shoulder, something that she couldn’t help but smile about. After all, it was probably among the most genuine physical affection she had gotten from anyone really, including her own parents. “You can way more than they want you to be. Heck, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve already proved that by just realizing that what your family’s doing is wrong. I’m sorry about what I said earlier, but… I do mean it when I say I think you can be someone better. It’s not too late.”

“It’s too late!” the ghost’s triumphant shout could be heard all the way from the ballroom, startling the pair out of their tender moment as they hurried out to see what was going on. The alarming sight before them elicited a horrified gasp from them both as the entire ballroom had been overtaken, either by unruly, encroaching plants or still meandering Gem mutants, all spread out around the multitude of now wooden, immovable party guests with no single survivor seeming to remain. “You’re all wood!” the ghost proclaimed with a victorious laugh from his spot at the top of the stairs overlooking the ballroom, which is vengeance had completely claimed.

For a moment, all Dipper and Pacifica could do was look over this horrific scene in apt terror as they tried to spot anyone still living and free amidst the apparent forest of wooden statues. But there seemed to be no one left, for Steven and Connie were nowhere to be found, and the Gems, Candy, Grenda, even Mabel had all fallen victim to the lumberjack’s petrifying curse. Which, of course, was something that Dipper refused to let stand as he swiftly drew his sword, determined to finally put this violent specter in his place once and for all.

“Dipper, wait!” Pacifica shouted, failing to hold him back as he rushed out brazenly, taking up a stance of opposition not too far away from the ghost itself, much to the heiress’ apt alarm.

“Alright, ghost,” Dipper began boldly, grabbing a discarded silver platter with the hopes of trapping the ghost inside of it. “Prepare to get-” He was abruptly cut off as the ghost blasted both the platter and his sword out of his hands, showing that the spirit had no patience to even trade barbs with the boy who had trapped him in the first place. “No, wait!” Dipper exclaimed in sudden fear as the ghost remorselessly hit him with his inescapable curse. The effect was immediate, working from the ground up as it all too quickly turned his flesh into hallow, unfeeling wood, much to his apt panic. “N-no! No, stop! Someone, help!” he cried desperately, crippled by a hauntingly familiar sensation of rapidly losing all his senses entirely as his chest became nothing more than frozen bark before it spread up his arms and finally to his face. “Help, please!” His final, agonized plea hung onto the air as an echo as he finally froze, completely turned to wood and stuff in an eternal pose of stricken terror as he reached for help that would likely never come.

All Pacifica could do as she witnessed all this was let out a sharp gasp of both shock and anguish, unexplainable tears welling up in her eyes as she watched Dipper succumb to the threat that her family was solely responsible for. One of the few people who had managed to inspire her, to encourage her to move beyond her family’s harsh standards, who showed her genuine warmth and kindness that hadn’t been bought but rather earned, was now nothing more than a wooden husk and she knew it was all thanks to her. Which was why she had to do something. She couldn’t just walk away and leave Dipper, and really every other innocent person in the mansion, to such a grisly fate. She had to stand up, to right the wrongs of her family’s past, to truly be someone better than any of her predecessors had been, including her own parents.

She had to open the gates.

And yet… she couldn’t. As much as she wanted to, she knew well what would happen if she even tried. Her parents would never forgive her, in all honesty, they’d probably punish her more than she could possibly imagine. They didn’t take disobedience kindly, especially when it came to massive matters like this. Seeing as how she couldn’t find them amidst the crowd of statufied guests, she knew that they’d find out about her blatant defiance somehow, they just would. And then, any shred of empirical freedom she thought she had would disappear completely; any hope she might have had to become a better person, to improve herself and rise above her family name, would vanish entirely. She’d be trapped, just like she always was, in that cycle of lies and greed and selfishness that had poisoned the Northwest name for decades.

And the possibility of that happening was something she desperately didn’t want to risk.

So instead, Pacifica let fear take over as she took a step back into the shadows, out of the ghost’s range, away from the disaster she could so easily solve with just the pull of a lever. However, she failed to see one of the few other survivors rushing along the edges of the hall, trying to take out the remaining Gem mutants while remaining out of the ghost’s sight, until they happened to haphazardly crash right into each other.

“Ugh, Pacifica!” Connie snapped, pulling away from the heiress with a cold scowl. “Get out of my way! I have to—wait a second,” she stopped short, lowering her sword somewhat as concern filled her expression. “W-where’s Dipper? Wasn’t he with you earlier?”

“H-he was…” Pacifica glanced down guiltily, trying her best to hold back her returning tears. “But… but he… t-the ghost… I wasn’t able to-”

Connie cut her off with a sharp, startled gasp as she glanced out into the ballroom, instantly spotting Dipper’s now wooden form near the center of the hall. “Dipper!” she exclaimed, aptly distraught as she turned back to Pacifica, clearly livid. “What happened?!”

“H-he just… ran out there! I wanted to stop him, but I-”

“Oh yeah, sure you did,” Connie deadpanned harshly. “Like I’m gonna stand here and believe that you actually even thought about sticking your neck out for someone else. Heck, I bet the only reason you’re so torn up about what happened to Dipper is because you lost your only ghost hunter, right?”

“Augh, you don’t know anything do you?!” Pacifica retorted just as fiercely, her gloved hands clenched in tight fists at her sides. “You think the only person I care about is myself, but you’re wrong! Believe me, I’d love to just run out there and open the gates so that ghost would set everyone free, but I can’t! Because if I did, then my parents would… t-they’d…”

“They’d… what?” Connie asked, her glare softening somewhat as she noticed just how visibly anxious Pacifica seemed to be.

“Forget it,” the heiress said dismissively, wrapping her arms around herself as she glanced out towards the ballroom sadly. “You wouldn’t understand…”

“…Somehow, I think I would…” Connie admitted with a hesitant sigh, looking to the hallway she knew her mother was still hiding in. “My mom is… pretty strict. She didn’t even know about my sword fighting training until tonight and when she found out about it, she refused to let me fight, even against all these Gem mutants running around. But… I knew a still had to fight, that I was one of the only ones with any hope of stopping all this, and so I am.”

“E-even though your mom said no?” Pacifica asked, rather amazed by such a concept as blatantly going against parental orders with no apparent regret.

“Even though my mom said no,” Connie confirmed with a nod, pausing for a moment as she looked to the rather conflicted heiress with newfound pity. Perhaps, despite what she had been led to believe, Pacifica wasn’t really spoiled or cruel from her own choosing; maybe that was just how her parents had raised her, had forced her to be. And as someone who knew all too well just how heavy a burden trying to live up to parental standards was, maybe, Connie realized, the two of them weren’t so different after all. “I think I realized that… sometimes my parents aren’t always right. And when they’re not, that’s when I have to just… figure things out for my own, you know? And maybe… maybe that’s something you need to try for yourself, Pacifica.”

The heiress said nothing in response to this, her brow furrowed as she kept her sights on Dipper afar in the distance more than anything else. Connie raised an eyebrow upon seeing this, surprising something of an incredulous smile as she realized what was going on here, though she said nothing about it at the moment. “I gotta go find Steven,” she said, repositioning her grip on Rose’s sword as she hurried off. “Try to make the right choice, ok?”

Pacifica took in a deep breath, steadying herself as she slowly nodded, even after Connie had left. “Ok,” she whispered, resolve to do this, determined to save them all, to save him.

Whether her parents liked it or not.

“A forest of death,” the ghost concluded grimly, still presiding in his spot above the ballroom. “A lesson learned, and now the Northwest Manor will BURN!” The specter erupted into vengeful laughter as flames rose up from him, igniting the large portrait of the Northwest family hanging from the nearby wall first, though it quickly began to spread, more than ready to burn everything, and everyone, in the mansion to ashes in minutes.

Or at least it would have.

“Hey, ugly! Over here!” Pacifica shouted as she emerged from hiding, figuring now was as good a time as any to put an end to all this. She stood before the ghost boldly, unfettered by the powerful, hateful spirit as she stepped towards the lever that would open the mansion’s outer gates. “You want me to let in the townsfolk? Cause I’ll do it! Just change everyone back!”

“You wish to prove yourself?” the ghost asked challengingly. “Then pull that lever and open the grand gate to the town! Fulfill your ancestors’ promise and right this wrong once and for all!”

Pacifica was prepared to do just that, her expression hardened as she began reaching for the nearby lever. However, her hand froze right before she could grab it as an underground hatch leading down to the panic room opened up a few feet away, her father, mother, and one of their countless butlers anxiously peeking out of it. “Pacifica Elise Northwest! Stop this instant!” Preston exclaimed in a harsh, incredibly disapproving whisper. “We can’t let the town see us like this! We have a reputation to uphold!”

“A reputation?” Pacifica looked to him, appalled. “Our entire mansion’s about to go up in flames and a bunch of innocent people right along with it and you’re worried about our reputation?!”

“Well, of course I am!” Preston scowled adamantly. “And you should be too, young lady! Our family is built off of power and position, we can’t have common nobodies off the street running rampant in our mansion! Now come into the panic room. There’s enough mini-sandwiches and oxygen to last you, me, and a butler a full week.” At this, he quickly dropped his voice down to a whisper so the nearby servant couldn’t hear him. “We’ll eat the butler.”

“You’re wrong!” the heiress snapped, her former fear of standing against her parents quickly fading as she realized just how many self-serving lies she had been fed her entire life. Lies that she refused to eagerly buy into any longer. “The only things our family was built off of are cheating and dishonesty! I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to learn that, but I have! And its about time everyone else did too!”

“You dare disobey us?” Preston scoffed in disbelief. “Where did this shamefully disrespectful attitude of yours come fro—oh wait, I know…” The billionaire’s tone turned disdainful as he shot a glance towards the center of the ballroom, where Dipper’s wooden remains stood. “It was that foolish Pines boy, wasn’t it? He was the one who inspired you to start thinking like a no-account vagrant instead of the elite young lady of status that you truly are! Well, worry not,” he said, pulling the bell that Pacifica had come to dread and loathe so much out of his suit pocket. “I know of the perfect to fix that…”

Pacifica flinched, pulling her hand away from the lever on instinct upon hearing the bell’s clarion ring, a ring that seemed to echo throughout her entire childhood and always carried one, singular order: behave. A ring that had groomed her into what her parents wanted her to be: submissive, unquestioning, accepting of all the atrocities the Northwests were responsible for in the past and were still committing even now. A ring that she hated, with every fiber of her being, but she knew better than to resist it.

Until now.

Because now, that ring wasn’t her master any longer. It couldn’t be. She remembered the advice both Dipper and Connie had given her, advice that mixed together inside her mind that she could be more, that she could do the right thing even when her own family never had, that she could change.

That she could be free.

And no matter what the cost might be, that freedom was something she was finally ready to take.

“Dingly, dingly!” Preston growled, ringing the bell harder as he noticed Pacifica was paying it no mind and reaching for the lever once more. “Is this bell broken?”

“Our family name is broken!” Pacifica proclaimed, slamming her foot down as she finally grabbed the lever. “And I’m gonna fix it!”

Putting every last ounce of reservation and fear behind her, the heiress pulled the lever down hard, at long last finally opening the gates up to the common townsfolk outside. The people of Gravity Falls gasped in amazement at this unexpected turn of events, but of course, none of them hesitated to rush forward, delighted to be allotted inside the legendary Northwest Fest for the very first time ever.

“Yes! Yes, its happening!” the ghost happily cried as the townsfolk excitedly ran up the hill to get to the mansion itself. “My heart, once as hard as oak, now grows soft, like more of a… birch or something.”

As a result of the ghost’s satisfaction, his curse upon the mansion quickly faded away, the taxidermized animals becoming still and unmoving as the wild plants disappeared back into the ground they had emerged from. At the same time, all of the petrified party guests seamlessly and painlessly were returned to normal, from the wealthy dignitaries, to the Gems, and to Dipper, who let out a sharp gasp as he returned to normal, rather startled by this shift as he happened to glance across the hall over at Pacifica. The heiress remained where she was by the lever, but even so, the huge smile of warm relief she sent him was undeniable, knowing that to see him alive and well again made all of her struggling against her parents more than worth it.

“Pacifica,” the ghost addressed her, briefly diverting her gaze away from Dipper right as he returned her smile. “You are not like other Northwests and for that, you should be proud. I feel… lumber justice…” And with these final words of contentment relayed, the specter finally disappeared from the mortal plane, leaving only his axe behind as it slammed into the ground, the only remaining physical sign of the devastation he had wrought.

Of course, almost as soon as the ghost had vanished, the multitude of townsfolk reached the manor, flooding in through the front doors in a flurry of chaos and excitement. They had no mind for manners whatsoever as they ran about, indulging on buffet tables, leaping into cider fountains, and laying their hands on whatever expensive knick-knacks they could find. Still, their arrival had added an undeniable and much-needed element of reckless fun and freedom to the party, one that absolutely appalled Preston and Priscilla as they stood by, helpless to stop what their daughter had so brazenly done.

“Good lord, the riffraff! Its everywhere!” the billionaire cried, aghast at the state of his once pristine party as he ran about, trying and completely failing to reclaim some sense of class and order.

At the same time, the Gems, upon recovering from their formerly petrified states, were quick to see the wild debauchery going on all around them, something that aptly confused them, given how they knew Northwest parties to usually be.

“What’s going on here?” Pearl asked, her spear dissipating as she watched Manly Dan toss a keg of cider across the hall.

“I dunno, but this is my kinda party!” Amethyst cheered, laughing as a few of the town’s teens rode an empty platter down the nearby stairs.

“Looks like everyone else has followed our lead,” Garnet remarked with a wry smirk, placing hands on both of her teammates’ shoulders. “You know what that means.”

“Woo! Time to bust it up!” the purple Gem rowdily whooped, rushing forward unrestrained.

“N-now Amethyst, let’s try not to bust things up too much!” Pearl warned as she began to run after her, though she quickly stopped with an incredulous scoff. “Wait, what am I saying? This is the Northwests’ mansion we’re talking about here! Let’s bust it up to our hearts’ content!”

“Now you got it,” Garnet nodded in amused approval, joining her teammates as they gladly leapt into the ongoing chaos and fun all around them.

Meanwhile, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were all in the midst of recovering from their own bouts as wooden statues, though none of them knew much about what had really occurred. Still, as soon as they had properly gathered their bearings, Grenda was quick to turn on the pair, sending them a disapproving scowl as she addressed them.

“Ahem,” she began somewhat coldly. “Don’t you two have something you’d like to say?”

“…Grenda, we are so sorry,” Candy relented remorsefully.

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have left you behind,” Mabel added just as empathetically.

“It’s ok,” Grenda conceded, her bitter manner quickly dropping upon noticing their sincerity. “Maybe I do need to work on my flirting. But for now, come on. Let’s go dip our heads in some cheese and chocolate. Friends?”

“Friends,” the other two girls happily agreed as they all joined together in a group hug. This moment of reconciliation soon came to an end however, for before they could make their way over to the fondue fountains, they were abruptly halted by a certain baron.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Marius called after them, approaching Grenda in particular with a fond, longing smile. “Grenda, was it? I must speak with you. There is something about you, I-I can’t get you out of my head! You’re so bold and confident! I know you are probably out of my league, but… might I give you mien phone number?”

“I don’t have a phone!” Grenda brightly exclaimed, elated by this offer. “Write it on my face!”

The baron proceeded to do so as Mabel and Candy watched on, neither of them having to pretend to be happy for their friend’s successful romantic catch. “Whoa-oh! Go Grenda!” Mabel exclaimed with a surprised grin.

“I guess we shouldn’t have sold her short,” Candy concluded. “I call bridesmaid!”

“What? I call co-bridesmaid!” Mabel countered before both of them shared a warm laugh. Despite their earlier scuffle, their friendship had been easily repaired, with all three of them knowing that no boy, no matter how cute or fancy, was worth damaging something so valuable to them all.

“Is that the last of them?” Connie asked Steven as he finished bubbling away what seemed to be the last of the Gem mutants. They had finished proofing and capturing them all around the same time the ghost had disappeared, which meant that now the party and its guests could truly be safe to enjoy the remainder of their evening.

“Yeah, I think so,” Steven nodded, offering her a small, congratulatory smile. Connie didn’t get much of a chance to return it, however, before her mother approached, her manner strangely anxious as she met her daughter’s somewhat unreadable gaze.

“C-Connie,” Priyanka began gently, looking between her daughter and the sword in her hand. “I… is this… really what you’ve been doing all summer? Training to fight these… things?”

“Yeah…” Connie nodded, glancing down guiltily. “Mom… I’m really sorry about lying to you. It started off as a tiny secret, and then it felt like I didn’t hide it, you wouldn’t let me see Steven or Dipper or Mabel ever again…”

“Is… is that how you feel?” Priyanka asked, her tone genuinely upset at the thought of unintentionally causing her daughter such worry and fear. “Are we too controlling?”

“…Maybe…” Connie admitted with a small shrug, deciding to be completely honest with her mother on this.

“I just… wanted to be a good mother,” the doctor said remorsefully, almost sadly even. “I-I just wanted to protect you.”

“But I can protect myself now!” Connie urged firmly. “You saw that I can! You just… need to start trusting that I can handle some things on my own.”

Priyanka sighed, a bittersweet smile crossing her face as she knelt down and placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You are growing up awfully fast, aren’t you?” she said, a hint of pride filling her tone. “Okay. We’ll pull back on the rules. And I’ll try to keep an open mind about this,” she nodded to the sword in Connie’s hand. “And that,” she looked towards the bubbled Gem Steven was sending off to the temple. “And… him…” She finished rather tightly, nodding to the somewhat confused young Gem himself.

“That’s… all I really want,” Connie said, finally smiling herself.

“I know, its just… it scares me that you can’t talk to me about all this!” Priyanka pressed with apt concern. “I need to know what’s happening in your life. I need to be able to step in when you’re in over your head. Would you just promise me that you’ll stop all the lying?”

“That’s a rule,” Connie nodded, resolved to meet her mother halfway in doing just that.

“I love you, honey,” Priyanka smiled as she pulled her daughter into a warm, protective embrace.

“I love you too, Mom,” Connie retorted just as contentedly, more than happy to let her mother intervene if the need ever arose.

Steven wore a soft smile himself as he stood by, watching this heartwarming display. However, his grin did fade somewhat as he happened to glance down at Rose’s sword in his arms, particularly at his mother’s iconic symbol on its scabbard. He couldn’t help but wonder, as he watched Connie and her mother share such a tender, genuine moment, if he would have ever known a similar relationship with his own mother if she was still around. But as it stood, this was a gap he’d never truly have filled, a kind of protective, motherly love he’d never fully get to know. Or at least he thought.

For the young Gem was soon drawn out of his solemn thoughts as a familiar hand landed on his shoulder. Steven glanced up to meet Garnet’s gentle grin, followed by Pearl’s and Amethyst as they filled in beside her.

“Y-you guys!” he exclaimed in apt relief to see them unharmed. “You’re ok!”

“Of course we are!” Amethyst quipped, playfully elbowing him. “What, you really think we’re gonna let some undead lumber loser beat us down? Please, you know us better than that!”

“Are you enjoying the party, Steven?” Pearl asked, flustered changing the subject though she was still smiling down at her young ward nonetheless.

Steven paused, looking down at his mother’s sword one last time before smiling back up at his guardians. “You know what? Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

With the ghost gone and the heiress’ parents preoccupied, Dipper and Pacifica had found it rather easy to reunite and debrief from their harrowing experiences, both of them more than happy to watch the unfurling freedom of the newly-opened party all around them. “Man, if your family hates this, then they’re idiots,” Dipper remarked with a small laugh as several townsfolk ran by noisily but happily. “This is great!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Pacifica huffed, crossing her arms. “Next year, I’m sure they’re just gonna lock everyone out again.”

Dipper paused, briefly noticing that the heiress still seemed rather remiss after everything had happened. Fortunately though, he quickly thought of a sure-fire way to change her sour tune. “Hey, guess what we’re standing on.”

Pacifica glanced down, her face lighting up with a vindictive grin as she noticed their muddy shoes were planted firmly on a repeat of her parents’ favorite white rug. From that point, neither of them were really able to hold their laughter in as they freely tarnished the carpet, spilling food and punch onto it without any care in the world, all in a sign of defiance to the billionaire’s rigid, self-righteous rules.

“Hey, so, uh…” Pacifica began somewhat awkwardly as their laughter began to die down. “I just wanted to say… um… thanks, I guess, for what you said back there. In a way, I guess it kinda inspired me to finally stop listening to my parents’ self-entitled garbage and start listening to myself for a change. And I gotta admit, it… feels kind of… nice.”

“If anyone’s thanking anyone around here, I should be thanking you,” Dipper said just as warmly. “If it wasn’t for you, then I’d still be a boring old hunk of wood right now.”

“Yeah, that totally would have sucked,” Pacifica remarked with something of a flirtatious grin. “I couldn’t imagine you, of all people, being so stiff and boarding.”

Dipper couldn’t really hold in a burst of heavy laughter at this, something that only served to fluster the heiress even more than she already was. “What, did you come up with that one yourself?”

“Hey, at least I tried. It’s not like puns are really my strong suit.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“Oh shut up,” Pacifica smirked, pushing him playfully as he continued laughing. “But seriously though, I should probably go and find someone to clean this mess up. I’ll be right back!”

Dipper waved her off with a fond smile that he was unable to chase away, even if he had wanted to. As catastrophic as this night had turned out to be, at the end of it all, it had all been worth it to form a true, genuine bond with Pacifica, who, as far as he was concerned, was so, so much kinder, braver, and better than he had ever thought her to be.

His contented musings on the heiress didn’t last too long, however, before a certain old hillbilly ran up, seemingly just as zany and excitable as ever. “Woo! Scoobity-doo!” McGucket exclaimed, hopping up and down in his usual wild way. “Hornswaggle m’goat knees!”

“Whoa, hey, McGucket!” Dipper greeted with a bright smile, happy to see the hillbilly out and about in the aftermath of recovering his memories. “How have you been? Are you—whoa!” he was succinctly cut off as McGucket suddenly pulled him aside, his kooky act falling to the wayside for a much more serious one as soon as they were out of everyone else’s earshot.

“Dipper! I’ve been lookin’ for ya!” the hillbilly began intently, his expression and tone both dire as he put his glasses on and pulled out the old laptop, which looked nowhere as bad off as it had been before. “I fixed the laptop and-”

“You fixed it?! Dipper interupted, his eyes wide with surprise at this news. He paused, however, forcing himself not to be too overwhelmed by it as he remembered exactly why he had strived so hard to unlock said laptop in the first place. “Y-you… you didn’t happen to find anything on there about how split Gem fusions up… did you?”

“Er, uh… no?” McGucket frowned, confused by such an odd question before he returned to the matter at hand. “B-but anyway, I’ve been doin’ calculations, and I think somethin’ terrible is comin’! The apocalypse! The end times!”

Dipper simply let out a disappointed sigh at this as he glanced to the laptop somewhat bitterly, knowing he had wasted and lost so much for something that wouldn’t have even been able to help Lapis in the first place. But given that his spirits were relatively high from the party, he didn’t particularly feel like lowering them at the moment to look into the hillbilly’s frantic warnings, which in and of themselves, might not really hold any weight at all. “You know what, McGucket? How about we talk about this stuff tomorrow?”

“But-” McGucket fretfully tried to protest, only for Dipper’s already waning attention to quickly be diverted.

“Dipper!” Pacifica called from the party proper, smiling brightly as she beckoned for him to join her.

“Be there in a second!” he called back to her before turning to the distraught hillbilly once more with a small smile and a shrug. “It’s a party. Let’s have some fun for once, huh?”

“N-no! Wait!” McGucket exclaimed, though his pleas were in vain as Dipper left, dangerously unaware of what he had just uncovered. The hillbilly quickly opened the laptop up, its screen blaring the words “Imminent threat” in bright, glaring red as a countdown steadily blinked upon it, showing that only less than 24 hours remained. “Oh, this is bad!” he shook his head nervously. “Something’s coming! Somethin’ big!”

The hillbilly continued to look over his worrisome findings, completely unaware of the tapestry behind him, one that seemed to almost foretell of the very danger he feared was soon to come: a burning landscape with suffering humans upon it, and a long triangular shape presiding over the chaos, its singular eye watching all.

“Hey,” Dipper greeted Pacifica blithely as he rejoined her near the makeshift ‘dance floor’ the townsfolk had set up at the center of the ballroom. “What’s up?”

“Uh… well…” the heiress blushed, anxiously averting his gaze. “I was just, um… Well… Oh, how do I put this…? I was thinking maybe… y-you and I could… you know…” Unable to spit it out, she instead nodded to the several pairs freely moving about the dance floor, biting her lip as she noted his initial confusion, followed by his dawning realization.

“What, you mean, dance?” he asked, looking back to her rather surprised.

“Y-Yeah, I mean, i-if you wanna…” she crossed her arms, feigning stoicism over the matter. “W-we don’t have to. I just thought it would be like, fun or something.”

“Oh, well, uh… I-I’m not really that much of a dancer,” he admitted, starting to become rather flustered himself in light of this offer.

“So? Neither are any of them,” she nodded back to the dance floor again, where the couples upon it were basically just spinning around in tandem without any rhyme or reason at all. All the same, he hesitated, his eyes wide and his cheeks just as red as hers as he met her awkward, apprehensive expression. “W-what? Are you embarrassed or something?”

“N-no!” he shook his head quickly. “Are you?”

“No!”

“W-well then, I guess we should…”

“Yeah…” she took in a deep breath, slowly taking the hand he shakily offered out to her, In truth, neither of them were exactly sure why there were so nervous, even as they emerged onto the open floor together. After all, they really had no reason to be; this was just going to be a loose, friendly, freeform dance. Nothing less, and nothing more.

And though it took a moment or two of mental preparation, they soon started to fall into this mindset themselves as they began to spin, hands intertwined as they rotated in wide, dizzying, almost chaotic circles. It didn’t take long for them to start laughing, their faces still somewhat red but this time it was a welcome warmth as they “danced” about, the ballroom around them and the multiple pairs of eyes curiously watching them soon forgotten just as much as their initial inhibitions were. As wild and unkempt as it was, there was no denying they were both having fun, enjoying each other’s company, something neither of them thought could never happen before this fateful night. Yet here they were, a highly-esteemed heiress with a tarnished family history and a middle-class boy only really known for his knowledge of the supernatural. An unusual pair, for sure, but that hardly mattered to either of them at that moment for as far as they were concerned, they were the same. Just two kids, spinning around an elegant ballroom, hands intertwined as they laughed together with freedom in their minds and happiness in their hearts.

Happiness that would someday become something that nothing, not the past, the present, or the future, would ever be able to destroy.

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