#SHAKES VISIONS AROUND LIKE A BOBBLEHEAD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deenoss · 1 year

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Dreamcatcher Chptr. 52

Meanwhile in the parking lot, Clark waited patiently by his sister's truck - it was found and towed. Out of his generosity, David paid off the warrant and bestowed the rights over to Clark. He had his earphones in his ears, blocking out any background noise while he bobbed his head up and down to Firewalk. He was anxious to get home and check the mailbox as he was yet to receive any letters from his girlfriend.

It wasn't until Clark noticed his friend walking towards the parking lot. He smiled to himself and patiently waited for her to approach him, only to find that someone was approaching her. A cross expression formed on Clark's face as he watched Nathan Prescott storm towards Max with grievous intent.

But Clark wasn't about to let that happen.

However, since he knew confronting Nathan in another fist-fight wasn't the best idea - due to not practicing enough lately - he thought of a better solution to escape the unstable jock jerk.

"... I know you like to take pictures, especially when you're hiding out in the bathrooms. You best tell me what you told the principal. Now."

"I told him the truth. A student had a gun."

"No, you told him I had a gun. That's why he dragged me into his office."

"And did what? Give you a stern lecture?"

"Nobody... nobody lectures me. Everybody tries though, they try..."

"You should talk to somebody, Nathan-"

"DO NOT ANALYSE ME! I pay people for that! Worry about yourself, Max Caulfield."

"Back off, Nathan!"

Aggressively, Nathan grabbed Max by the side of her neck and grabbed her right forearm and shook her slightly in order to provoke the intimidation and power he believed he held. After a few seconds, he let her go by pushing her away, causing her to lose her footing and trip over, landing on her butt.

"Nobody tells me what to do! Not my parents, not the principal, or that prick in the bathroom!"

"Stop that! Right now!"

The sound of a truck engine revving towards them drew Nathan's attention towards the oncoming vehicle. But just as he looked away from Max, the next thing he saw was a car door flying towards him.

"Oof!" Nathan grunted.

The impact of the door hitting him knocked Nathan off his feet. He flew onto his back, only just avoiding a serious head injury.

"Get in, Max! Come on! Shake a leg!" Clark ordered as he leaned across to open the passenger door.

Max didn't waste a second pulling herself up to her feet, scampering around to the passenger side and climbed in. As soon as the door was shut, Clark slammed his foot on the accelerator and swerved around Nathan Prescott and sped out of the parking lot.

An Elvis bobblehead was mounted on the dashboard, alongside a flask, some papers and pens and pencils. From the rear vision mirror was a cop badge chain, a feather and a skull. Besides that, the style of the inside of the truck was practically nothing contributed by Clark.

"You okay, Max? He didn't hurt you too much, did he?" Clark asked concerningly.

The brunette sighed and slouched in her seat.

"I'm alright. Thank you for coming to my rescue."

"Anytime."

"Man... Nathan Prescott is messed up. And dangerous. This day never ends..."

"How do you mean?" He asked curiously. Clark glanced over at Max every now and then when he could, when there was plenty of space between he and the oncoming traffic.

Max let out another exhausted exhale and fidgeted in her seat. She managed to make herself comfortable where she sat and stared at the road ahead. They both made conversation to pass the time while Clark drove them back to his place.

When they arrived outside his house, Clark pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. He and Max hopped out of the truck. She made her way towards the front door while Clark checked the mailbox. To his disappointment, there was a lack of mail inside.

"Come on in. Don't be shy," said Clark as he made his way over to the front door to unlock it.

Max observed the exterior of the house and complimented it positively.

"The house still looks... nice."

Clark chuckled softly. "You don't have to pretend, Max. Just admit it. The place still looks like crap, the same it did five years ago."

Under her breath, Max uttered, "At least you look good after five years."

"Hm? What was that, Max?"

"Oh. Umm, n-n-nothing."

Clark bobbed his head up and down and walked through the front door. Max followed suite and shadowed him upstairs to his room.

Memories of her life in Arcadia came flooding back as Max stared at every little thing on their way up to his room. Stepping foot into Clark's room brought back more memories. Especially when she distinguished the interior design of her friend's room. The only difference was that it didn't possess that masculine touch anymore. Max could tell somebody else had been in his room and tidied it up - with his permission. If it were Joyce, Max had a feeling Clark wouldn't have let it remain tidy for very long.

"Wow. It's been so long since I was last in here." Max commented, sounding a bit too amazed being in Clark's room again. "Have you been redecorating? Something feels different about your room."

"Well, yeah, obviously something's different. You just haven't been here in five years to see what changes it's been through. It's just had a bit of a feminine touch, that's all." Clark replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Max took little steps, lapping around the room before she settled by sitting on the end of Clark's bed.

"It suits well. I'd like to do something good for my school and Arcadia Bay. I can't even submit my photo to represent... I just don't want to be rejected."

Clark joined her and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

"That's the point of trying and failing until you succeed. Every great artist gets rejected before they get accepted. So you have to hand in your photo. Trust me, Max. Don't be afraid to fail without trying first."

The brunette tucked some hair behind her ear and smiled bashfully at him.

"Wish we could hang out all morning like we used to," she said disappointingly.

Clark leaned backwards so that now he was lying on his bed. Max copied him and did the same and stared at the ceiling where she noticed posters hung directly above them. By reaching over to his bedside table, Clark grabbed a remote and activated his stereo so he could break out the silence and replace it with music.

"Where did the time go? Once upon a time, we'd be drawing sketches and playing pirate..." Clark sighed relaxingly.

Max craned her head to the side and stared at Clark's side profile. The two were so comfortable that they enjoyed the silence leading up to the point a thought crossed Max's mind.

"Is it okay if I take a shower? I haven't had one in a few days." Max asked politely.

"Yeah. Sure. You can borrow some clothes."

She sat up and stood on her feet and walked over to his drawers and opened the top drawer, examining the clothes on display. Unsatisfied by what she saw, Max then slid to the side in front of the closet and opened it up. There wasn't much of a variety on display, other than the flannel shirt and torn dark grey jeans on a coat hanger.

"Sorry there isn't anything you might like. But these are the only clothes that come close to fitting you, I guess. Chloe was always the bigger - and taller - twin between us both."

"Not quite my style."

"You got a style? No offence, but... y-you might look good in that, but I think you should try something different for a change."

From hearing his comment, Max's cheeks turned red and her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

For somebody who was a bit nosy and socially shy, Max was oblivious to the fact that Clark already had someone whom he had his eyes on. But she didn't know, nor did she care. She wanted him all to herself.

Clark sat upright and admired his best friend as she pulled out the flannel and dark grey jeans and held it over the front of her body. The general appearance suited Clark as he encouraged her all the more to wear it for the day. She proceeded to walk out of the room to shower while Clark laid back down and closed his eyes to gain some rest.

Near a dozen minutes later, Max concluded her business in the bathroom and returned to Clark's room to collect the clothes he wanted her to wear. To give her some privacy, he removed himself from the room so she could change in peace. There was no initial satisfaction by what she wore, so Max took it upon herself to dig around Clark's drawers for a shirt she could like. Once she'd finished changing, she raised her voice - not at a large volume but just audible enough for her to be heard from the other side of the door.

"Oh hell yeah! You're rockin' it, Max! A couple tats, some piercings and we'll make a thrasher out of you yet." Clark cheered in approval of her new, rogue and stylish appearance.

"Ready for the mosh pit, shaka brah." Said Max, deepening her voice to sound natural and cool.

Clark paused for a moment and almost took back what he said.

"Would you like some dinner? Mum will be home soon, but I reckon you're starving, huh?" He offered thoughtfully.

"I could do with some-"

Outside of the room, a door slammed shut, followed by a gruff man's voice shouting from downstairs.

"Clark, are you up there?!" The voice boomed.

Clark immediately recognised the voice, whereas Max had a bit of trouble trying to figure out who it was as Clark ordered her to turn off the stereo. By doing as she was asked, Max scrambled over to pause the music so that they could hear the voice better.

"How many times have I told you to stop blasting that shit?!"

"Dude, just get lost! I'm not even doing anything wrong! Relax, man!"

"That's it. We need to talk. I'm coming up!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Max, you need to hide. This asshole will kill me if he finds you up here."

Both teenagers scrambled around the room. Clark rushed towards the door and placed the side of his head against the door so that he could hear better just how close his step-father was from reaching his room, while Max struggled to find a decent hiding spot. Clark jumped when he felt a small force hit the door, causing it to jolt, which in turn caused him to jump in surprise that his step-father was sorely tempted to force his way in.

"Clark?! Open this door this instant, soldier! That's an order!" David ordered authoritively.

"Just hang on, will you?!" Clark begged aggressively.

Max had just managed to find herself a place to hide - inside the closet. She concealed herself inside and watched with bated breath as things unfolded inside the Price household.

"What the hell are you doing in there?!"

"Uhh, umm... b-uhh, t-t-touching myself?! GO AWAY, MAN! You're hella annoying! Is privacy no longer sacred?!"

In disgust, David scowled as he banged his closed fist on the door three times. "I'm giving you exactly three seconds to open this door. One... two... three-"

Reluctantly, Clark was left with no other choice other than to open the door. David Madsen stormed into the room and interrogated Clark the second he walked in.

"What're you so paranoid for, man? I'm just doing... g-guy stuff." Clark said crossly before faltering to an embarrassed expression as he scratched the back of his head.

"Oh yeah? Then show me your laptop." Said David.

Clark scoffed. "Are you serious?! No fucking way, man!"

"I wasn't asking..."

"No, David."

"Why you... I'm giving you an order!"

"God... will you just quit treating my mother and I like we're your family platoon? This isn't some sort of war you're in right now."

"Oh yeah? Then why do you constantly defy me; ignore my orders, refuse to do as even your mother asks? Treat me with disrespect!?"

"Because you deserve it! You know what? You should just get out of our house! Go back to your crummy motel where you belong, you fuc-"

SLAP!

Clark recoiled from David's hand connecting with his cheek.

He'd struck him.

Guilt washed over David as he came to realise just what he'd done. He never wished to resort to violence as it would never assort issues any better. The hardened expression on David's face faltered to that of a constipated one. He knew better than to hit one of his one, even if there was some sort of validation to it.

Clark's hand touched the cheek he was struck on. The tingling sensation still lingered as he waited for it to subside, but he would remember what he'd done.

"Clark, I'm sorry," David apologised. "I care about your mother and... you just keep pushing me. Look. I understand what you're going through. I lost a friend during a tour. I'll never forget that day... What I want you to know is that if you ever want somebody to talk about it to, I'm here."

From the closet, Max watched anxiously as David walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Max emerged from the closet and approached Clark, who was still in shock over the argument. She comfortingly pulled him into a hug while he showed no reaction to it but let it happen.

He then proposed that they resort to a more suitable location for them to relax. If it wasn't going to be his room, then it would have to be one place where he found the most comfort.

The lighthouse.

#life is strange #max caulfield #david madsen #abuse #argument

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luxekook · 3 years

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when fire meets frost | kth

as part of the christmas with bangtan: secret santa collab

❅ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

❅ genre: second chance romance, exes to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

❅ summary: just like a bad holiday song, you gave taehyung your heart last christmas. only in this scenario, he broke it eight months later. now you’re both back at that same damn holiday party where you first met one year ago and you’re just praying for you and your heart to leave in one piece.

❅ word count: 5.8k

❅ warnings: 18+, cursing, suggestive comments, drinking, DIY mistletoe, light violence, random ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ references, drunk tae (TM), break-up flashbacks, weird humor, hella tension, hella groveling, making out, smut [oral (m to f)], the fluffiest of fluff (borderline cheese...actually...full-on cheese)

❅ banner by: the almighty and powerful maggie @kimtaehyunq - who also is the collab host!

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 8:00PM

Taehyung is staring at you. Again. Though you're facing slightly away from him, you know that if you give even the slightest glance over, your suspicions will all but be confirmed. The heated gaze you feel skimming over your body continues as you take a much needed sip of your mulled wine and pray that you get out of his line of vision soon with your dignity still intact.

Seokjin, your best friend and current partner in conversation, notices your predicament and scoffs, “You really should just put that boy out of his misery, (y/n). Scrooge himself would be down to have a foursome with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future if he was around all this pent-up sexual tension.”

Your red-painted lips curl in a surely unattractive manner that resembles something between a grimace and a grin. You’ve heard variations of this argument about a dozen times from just as many sources, but Seokjin’s might just be the most absurd.

“I don’t know how or why your brain went right to a ghost-fucking analogy, but I’ve long since given up trying to understand your thought processes.”

Seokjin’s chest puffs up at your words like they incite something he should feel proud of. You sigh and shake your head at him, feeling a mix of exasperation and endearment - a constant haze of comfort you feel around your best friend.

“I’m just saying,” Seokjin continues, completely undeterred by your attempts to divert the conversation onto him, “He’s hot. You’re hot. He’s still into you. You’re still into him. I don’t see the problem.”

“I never said–!” You cut yourself off. He’s baiting you. “You son of a nutcracker. You know full well what the problem is. I’ve told you more times than Yoongi has yelled at someone for getting too close to his precious sound system.

At your words, you both look over to your left where Yoongi is currently chewing out a sheepish Namjoon with a death-grip on his expensive ass speakers.

“And I’ve told you that your reasons are shaky at best, (y/n),” Seokjin sighs, placing his chin in his palm and leaning over to you. He continues with a conspiring whisper, “Just because you’re scared you’ll get hurt again doesn’t mean you should never put yourself back out there.”

“Oh yeah,” You scowl, “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never been dumped by the boy you love because he ‘wants to explore other options’. And then have to keep being around said-boy because you’re in the same friend group. And then fast forward a few months to when that same boy shows up drunk at your doorstep asking for you to take him back because you’re ‘the only one for him’. Spoiler alert: that’s fucking bullshit. And then–”

Seokjin slaps a palm over your mouth, effectively cutting you off mid-rant. “Babe, you have to stop rehashing this. Taehyung clearly is still in love with you. He looks at you like he wants to fucking eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, Tae hasn’t even hooked up with anyone since he asked for another chance.”

“That we know of,” You mumble darkly behind Seokjin’s palm - your words only a barely audible jumble of syllables.

“Are you accosting my date, Jin?” The voice of your co-worker and close friend Felix meets your ears as you shove Seokjin’s hand off of you. When you invited Felix to come to Jimin’s annual holiday party, you briefed him on the situation - like any good friend would. You needed him there as an extra buffer. While you love Seokjin, he definitely can get swept up into petty drama - namely baseless arguments with Jungkook.

As your closest work friend, Felix knows all about you and Taehyung, and therefore he agreed to be your “date” in exchange for your help in getting him a date with Alicia, the new accountant in your office. You’ve spent countless hours sitting next to each other as desk neighbors and coworkers. Felix is quiet, cute and respectful - not to mention his voice is to die for.

Felix’s hand settles on the middle of your back in completely friendly territory, but you can’t help but feel the eyes on you have ramped up in intensity. You wonder if Felix can feel his hand burning from the heat and almost think he does when Felix drops his hand a second later.

It’s one thing to make you uncomfortable. You’ve learned to stomach that. But it’s another thing to make your friends uncomfortable. And for that you turn and level a glare at that beautiful asshole, sitting at a nearby table with Jimin and still looking at you with those goddamn eyes.

Taehyung shamelessly stares back at you as Jimin prattles on about something in his ear before noticing Tae’s mind is elsewhere. Following his gaze to you, Jimin groans and shoves Taehyung’s shoulder before strutting away towards the kitchen. You watch as Jimin saunters by and roll your eyes when he winks at you when your eyes meet. That one has always been trouble.

When you turn back around, Taehyung is still staring at you. No, this time he’s staring at your body - namely, your ass. You ignore the burst of heat that runs through you and make a face somewhere between a scowl and a glare. He looks up at you without the least bit of remorse.

Your eyes narrow. Your ass isn’t even out! Your green ugly Christmas sweater adorned with real ornaments basically falls to your knees. But then again, Taehyung has always had a vivid imagination - and an even better memory. His mind is like a goddamn vault.

You tug your attention away from your ex and back to the current conversation. But your thoughts wander. You still feel that pull towards Taehyung - that same damn pull that’s been there since you first met him. And that scares the shit out of you.

Flashback: The First Meeting, Last Christmas

You’re perched on the arm of Namjoon’s black pleather sofa (“It doesn’t stain! Can you believe that?” “Namjoon, it’s ripped in seven places.”). Surveying the flurry of friends scattered throughout the cozy apartment, you only see a few people that you don’t know. But something feels different tonight, and you just can’t figure out why.

Did Namjoon rearrange his plants? Did Jimin part his hair differently? Did Hoseok change his outfit - again?

“A-yo, (y/n)!” Seokjin yells over to you from clear across the room. You’re always baffled at how clueless that boy is to social cues. “Come meet Taehyung!” Your friend continues to yell, practically pinwheeling his arms to beckon you over to his side of the room. You can vaguely make out an unknown figure standing with their back to you, facing Seokjin in conversation.

You sigh. Might as well get this over with before Seokjin decides to start pretending to lasso you over to his side of the room. Or worse - get his actual lasso that he has for some unknown reason. A natural performer that boy is. Getting to your feet, you cross the room. Your heartbeat thuds in your chest and you rub a hand over your heart absentmindedly.

What is wrong with you? Meeting new people always brings nerves, but you never usually feel this out of sorts. You step into Seokjin’s outstretched arm and into the embrace of your best friend. And then you look up at the newcomer.

Hooded dark eyes. Curly black hair. Perfect pink lips. Jawline chiseled by the gods.

Your breath catches in your throat. Words buzz in the air around you but you can't distinguish one from the next. You’re pretty sure Seokjin is making some sort of joke because his sides start to shake and the beautiful stranger looks exasperatedly amused. Yet, his eyes never stray from yours.

His lips part like his breath is caught in his throat.

“Taehyung-ie, don’t be rude! Say hi!” Seokjin shoves Taehyung, jolting you both out of your little staring contest.

“Hi,” Taehyung repeats. Your stomach flips at the depth of his voice. “I’m Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. You can call me Tae. Or V. Or just Taehyung.”

Your smile widens at his ramblings and the rising color of his cheeks. “Hi, Tae,” You can't help but grin up at the adorable, beautiful boy. He really looks angelic under the kitchen lights. His halo of curls frames his face in such a way that makes you want to curl your finger around one and tug.

Vaguely, you can tell that Seokjin is shooting rapid looks between you and Taehyung, looking like some sort of bobblehead in 100mph winds. Suddenly, a Grinch-like grin takes over his face. “Why don’t you crazy kids get some more wine? I need to talk to Yoongi...” Seokjin slips away.

In hindsight, you should have immediately been tipped off that Seokjin was up to no good. Seokjin seeking out Yoongi? Nothing good ever comes from that.

And you were right. Not twenty minutes later, you and Taehyung are both stuttering messes underneath a hastily tapped up branch of mistletoe - at least that’s what Seokjin’s calling it. You think it looks like a clump of grass with a grape thrown in there.

Just as you start to tell Taehyung that he doesn’t have to feel pressured by your lame friends, he cups your face in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Fucking magic.

There aren’t fireworks or sparks. There’s a whole blazing inferno between the two of you.

Your hands slide up his back, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. Taehyung lets out a small gasp as your fingers tug on his locks, and you slowly slide your tongue across his lower lip.

“Uh, okay… Hello? Hey, guys!”

Finally, Yoongi slams together two pans from the kitchen, jolting you both away from each other in fright.

“Break that shit up,” Yoongi shoots a glare at a grinning Seokjin. “I did not sign up for that level of PDA, Jin.”

“I can’t predict love, Yoongi-ah. I can only bring lovers together,” Jin sighs, clasping his hands over his heart dramatically. Yoongi pinches Seokjin in the side, immediately instigating a fight.

Taehyung reclaims your attention, shyly intertwining his pinky with yours. In the midst of all the chaos around you, he just looks at you like you are the only thing that matters.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 9:02PM

“I don’t know how you survive when he looks at you like that. I’m practically melting just being in proximity of the two of you.”

Your friend Ciana’s comment pulls your attention away from your demon of an ex as he strides by, leveling you with a calculated smolder.

It’s a look that says he’s going to fuck you up in the best way - the way that used to leave you weak in the knees and covered in hickies. Taehyung’s fuck me eyes are your kryptonite. He knows it. You know it. The whole party knows it. Hence, it makes sense how he’s shamelessly using them any fucking chance he can just to mess with you.

It’s practically a fulltime job pretending it doesn't affect you. And it's a job you are failing at miserably.

You sigh and take a big sip of your drink. “Oh, I'm not surviving,” You confess, “This is just a hologram image of me. I’m practically clear across the country by now.”

Ciana laughs, “Girl, I don't blame you, but I have to say… He looks like he would follow you anywhere.”

You scoff. There was a time where you would wholeheartedly agree. Since your first meeting, Tae made you feel like you were the center of his universe.

After talking all night at Seokjin’s party, you exchanged numbers and within a few days Tae asked you out.

Your first date was to an art gallery. The two of you spent hours there, studying art and exchanging soft murmured interpretations. You would often catch Taehyung staring at you instead of at the paintings decorating the walls, and it made you feel all warm and fuzzy.

The dates continued until Taehyung managed to gather up the courage to ask you to be exclusive - his words, not yours. You hadn’t believed that he could ever have doubted your answer. But in hindsight, you probably should have doubted him.

Things were great for a while. No - they were better than great. They were the best eight months of your fucking life. Until they weren’t.

“Why did y’all break up again?” Ciana asks, pulling your attention to her once more.

You let a bitter laugh escape. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

Flashback: The Break-Up, August

“I want to see other people.”

The words strike you like a serrated blade. The plate you’re washing falls into the sink with a clatter. Your heart stills in your chest.

“What?” For a second you believe that you must have misheard him. Only he crushes that hope into dust within seconds.

“I said I want to see other people.” Taehyung repeats, a bit louder.

“You mean like taking a break?” You refuse to turn around and face him. You refuse to believe that your relationship is crumbling down. Your mind tries to grasp at straws. “Or trying ethical non-monogamy?”

“No, (y/n),” Taehyung sighs, “I mean that I want to break up.”

“But why? I don’t understand.” The tears begin to sting your eyes as you blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the blindside that Taehyung just threw at you. “What did I do? How can I fix this?”

“You can’t, okay?” The exasperation in his voice is palpable. “I’m bored here. I feel tied down. We’re both so young... How can we know we’re right for each other when there’s so many other people out there?”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” You seethe, finally whirling to face him. Taehyung flinches when he sees your tearstained face but you persevere and continue, “I bore you? That’s sure not what it seemed like two days ago when you were fucking me against the wall of that club bathroom.”

“Things change,” Taehyung scowls, “I need to explore other options, (y/n), and I think you should, too.”

Your heart is breaking, a fissure splitting it right down the middle. “You want to explore other options,” You repeat, in a deadpan voice. “Do you already have someone in mind?”

The split second pause Taehyung takes is all you need to know the answer to that.

“Get out.”

“(Y/n), it wasn’t the only reason!” Taehyung scrambles to explain. “We haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Oh, you’re a ‘we’ already? Fuck you, Kim Taehyung.”

“No! That’s not what I meant!”

“Well, I hope you’re happy with them. I hope they don’t bore you or tie you down. I hope you’re right for each other. I hope youre fucking happy with yourself and your decision.”

“Can’t we still be friends?”

You don’t deem that question worthy enough of an answer and slam your front door in the face of the person who ten minutes ago had been the love of your life.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:21PM

The amount of love in the room is making your stomach turn. You watch as your coupled up friends exchange presents and kisses. You’re so happy for each and every one of them, don’t get you wrong. You just can’t help but feel increasingly alone with each passing minute.

Felix notices the dip in your mood and nudges you, “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” You snuggle deeper into his side. Thank god for Felix. “Thanks for coming with me to this shindig. It would have been hard to be alone this year.”

“No worries, babe. Besides, how else am I gonna get Alicia to go out with me?”

You laugh at Felix’s words. The boy was oblivious to the fact that Alicia had already approached you to ask if he was single. Sometimes you enjoy your diabolical mind. “Oh, she’ll definitely go out with you,” You reply, pinching his cheek, “Who could resist this face?”

“You did. Three years ago,” Felix whines, shoving your hand away from him playfully.

“Sadly you’re not my type, pretty boy,” You sigh. It truly was sad. Felix is the nicest human you know - besides Seokjin. The fact that you're not interested just reinforces the idea that you have terrible taste in men.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who you could possibly be referring to,” You sniff, turning away.

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe the guy that hasn’t stopped circling you like a fucking shark in water since we got here?”

“He has not,” You retort, rolling your eyes.

“A-ha! So you do know exactly who I’m referring to, you little liar!��

“Goddamnit,” You laugh. “I need another drink to put up with you. You want a refill?” You gesture towards his cup.

“Nah, I’m good,” Felix shakes his head. You nod and head over to the kitchen, thankfully seeing no sign of ‘Shark Boy’.

But you spoke too soon, because just as you’re reaching up for a new mug you feel him.

“Is that little boy out there your boyfriend? I didn’t think you were dating anyone,” A rough voice growls from entirely too close to your ear.

You turn your head and shoot your best side-eye at the asshole who’s heated stare is aimed straight down at you. You internally curse at the unfortunate fact that Kim Taehyung somehow still can manage to look gorgeous in a bright red sweater with a whole-ass Santa beard stitched to its collar. You have never hated him more given that you look like a hot mess of a Christmas tree that no one wants to climb.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business, Kim,” You retort, turning around again and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. You can feel his warmth surrounding you as he grabs the mug for you instead, his body pushed up against yours.

“Move,” You order, your voice shaking slightly. But instead of listening, Tae grabs your hips and turns you around, caging you in between his arms.

“See, you’re wrong, (y/n),” His eyes dart from your own to your lips, “Everything that concerns you is my business. It has since the moment I met you, and it hasn’t stopped since.”

The incredulous snort escapes you before you can attempt to rein it in, “Taehyung, you broke up with me! I’m pretty sure that means you consider me old news and - above all - none of your fucking business.”

“And I told you I made a mistake!” Taehyung leans closer, his jaw ticking.

“You were drunk!” You stab a finger into his admittedly toned chest that you can feel even through that abominable Santa beard, “And it took you two fucking months to say that, only to never bring it up again. So excuse me if I find your argument lacking.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung curses softly, running a hand through his mess of curls, “I miss that smart mouth.”

“Yeah?” Your response flies out too fast for your brain to check your words, “Well I miss being enough for you.”

Taehyung looks stricken. “Baby…” He reaches for you but you duck past him and beeline straight for Jimin’s bathroom. Locking yourself inside, you slide to the floor and contemplate your chances of sneaking out the tiny bathroom window just like you did that night some months ago.

Flashback: A Streetcar Named WTF, October

A harsh banging sound jolts you awake. “What the fuck,” You mumble, fumbling around blindly trying to find your phone amidst the blankets and pillows surrounding you.

Finally, your hand locates the small metal device and you switch your screen on. Your eyes immediately shut at the brightness and you muster up the will to peek at the time.

3:12AM.

Who the hell dares to pound on your door at this hour? What is this - A Streetcar Named Desire? Well, slap your ass and call you Blanche because this asshole is about to feel your wrath.

Stomping over to your door, you swing it open and say, “There’s no Stella here, Stanley. Fuck off.”

While you don’t find a drunk Marlon Brando on your doorstep, you do find a drunk Taehyung.

“Who the fuck’s Stanley?” Tae glares, trying to cross his arms but failing somehow.

“Good lord, Taehyung,” You groan, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside your apartment, “You smell like a whole goddamn brewery. How did you even end up here?”

“Walked,” He says proudly while smiling down at your hand on his arm like an idiot. “Who’s Stamplee? I mean, Stangfree.”

You pinch your nose with your free hand. This boy… Ignoring his idiocy completely, you question, “You walked?” You push him down onto your couch and head into your kitchen to grab him some water.

“Yup! All by myself! Are you proud of me? Sandflea could never!”

You jump. Somehow Tae still managed to sneak up behind you while drunk out of his mind.

“Kim Taehyung, sit your drunk ass down.” You jab a finger in the direction of the couch he just vacated.

“But you’re so far away when I sit all the way over there, baby,” He pouts, giving you puppy dog eyes. “And I’m not drunk!”

You don’t dignify his words with a response. Handing the glass of water to the problem currently sprawled out on your couch, you sigh. What are you going to do with him? He can’t stay here… But he’s in no shape to walk back to wherever the fuck he came from.

“Tell me, Kim, why did you think that walking to my apartment of all places was a good idea? I could have moved!” Disdain drips from every syllable, “Is anything going on in that brain of yours? If so, it’s clearly not making any sense.”

“I beg to differ,” Taehyung has the audacity to grin up at you as he continues, “My brain makes perfect sense, baby. You plus me equals three.” His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he swings his hands out, showering you with the glass of water you just handed him.

“Maybe I’ll call you a math tutor along with your Uber,” You mumble as you fight the urge to laugh at the mess of a boy staring up at you from your couch. Grabbing a kitchen towel, you dab the water off of you as best you can. Glancing back down at Tae, you notice his attention has fallen to your chest, where the water he practically threw at you has plastered your tanktop to your skin.

“Hey, eyes up here,” You slap his arm with the damp towel, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“One more minute,” He says, absentmindedly rubbing his arm.

His attention gives you butterflies for a split second before you lock that shit down. You aren’t a fool; you’re fully aware that Taehyung’s the farthest thing from available, but he’s still hot as hell with his muscular stature, his wicked brown eyes, and his full pink lips. And that deep voice… it has shamefully been the fuel of your fantasies for the past few weeks. But that is neither here nor there.

So while his undivided attention always did make you feel fucking incredible, now he’s just a drunk boy who’s acting like he’s never seen nipples before.

“I’m calling you an Uber, okay?” You finally say, grabbing your phone and pulling up the app.

“Can’t I stay here?” Taehyung pouts, “Or will Surley get mad?”

“His name is Stanley,” You automatically reply and then curse as Taehyung lurches to his feet.

“I knew it! Where is he? Where is my replacement? I challenge him to a duel!”

“A duel?” You can’t help but laugh, “On what grounds?”

“For your hand, of course!” Taehyung rapidly glances around your apartment before his eyes land on the broom tucked in the corner of your kitchen. “There’s my sword!”

Before he can take a step towards his ‘sword’, you grab his arm and push him back down onto your couch.

“Wow, you’re strong!” Tae stares up at you adoringly, “And so-o cute. Wanna date?”

“You’re drunk, Tae. Don’t say things like that.” God, he’s going to give you a complex. You had just started getting over him and now he does this? Why is life deadset on fucking you over?

“But I do wanna date you!” Taehyung insists, “Don’t you miss me? Miss us? I still love you. I never stopped.”

“Tae, please stop.”

“I made a mistake, baby, and I wanna fix it. Can you give me a chance? Please?” His brown eyes blink up at you slowly. His lids practically fight to stay open as his words slur together.

The boy is falling asleep. Sighing, you close the Uber app. Looks like you’re housing your ex for the evening.

“I wanna marry you,” He mumbles, “Bought the ring last week. If you can just love me again I’ll be the luckiest…” His words get more and more inaudible. Mumbles about Stanley and revenge and kisses and altars filter through as you place a blanket over his form.

“Goodnight, Tae.” You can’t resist brushing your fingers through his hair. Your heart stutters as he practically leans into your touch like a cat, smiling contentedly.

“We’ll see if you remember this in the morning,” You mutter, setting another glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table for him when he wakes up.

After making sure Taehyung’s on his side with a bucket for potential incidents, you head back to bed.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:23PM

“(y/n)... baby, please let me in.”

The underlying meaning of those six words is not lost on you. Could you let him in again? Taehyung once held your heart and then he basically smashed it on concrete and backed over it with his car - twice.

“Go away.” Your words sound weak even to your own ears.

“No, I need to talk to you… Please.” His voice breaks on the last word and you cave. Standing you unlock the door and back up. You could have a logical and reasonable discussion with Tae and get some closure, leaving all feelings out of it. Maybe...

“Two minutes,” You declare, “Nothing more.”

“But–”

You cut him off, “1:55…” You tap your foot and smile as Taehyung shoots you a look.

“Fine,” He rubs the back of his neck, peeking up at you under his lashes. “I got scared, okay?”

Your disbelief must show all over your face because he continues.

“Yeah, I was scared - fucking terrified of how much I feel for you. How in love with you I am. How can it be that easy to find your soulmate? It didn’t make any sense to me. And then Pia began to show an interest in me and I convinced myself it was a good idea to distance myself from you. To see other people. To try to make sense of my feelings.”

You hold up a hand. “So, you’re saying that you broke up with me because you were ‘too in love with me?’ What the fuck kind of selfish bullshit is that, Taehyung? You broke my fucking heart for someone you didn’t even like because you were scared I was your soulmate? Don’t you see how that just makes me feel like shit?”

Taehyung sinks to his knees. “(Y/n), baby, please. I am so sorry. I fucked up in the worst, most selfish way possible. It kills me that I broke your heart.”

“Ugh, get up, you drama king.” You pull him to his feet, continuing, “Why did you leave after that night? You said all those things when you were drunk and then just left.”

“Yeah, I kind of don’t remember what I said or how I even ended up at your place.” A blush takes over his face, “It’s so embarrassing you had to see me like that and I kind of just wanted to forget it happened. And I really hoped that you forgot it did, too. I didn’t expect you to just keep acting like you forgot my existence altogether.”

“What does that mean? I see you all the time, Tae! We’re in the same friend group for god’s sakes. We’re around each other all the time… Maybe even too much.” You mumble the last few words, but he catches them.

“Too much? You avoid me at all costs! You don’t smile at me anymore. You don’t even look at me most times! It kills me that all I get from you now is ice, when I know you have so much fire.”

His words confuse you. So he does want you back? Your friends weren’t exaggerating? A small burst of hope swells inside you, but the memory of the break-up outweighs it. “You don’t even know me though, Taehyung. Not anymore.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Taehyung leans closer to you, and you take a step back. Your back bumps up against the sink, your plastic ornaments adorning your sweater clinking awkwardly.

Tae brushes a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes begging you to listen, “I do know you. I know that you still take your coffee black with caramel. I know that you started doing yoga but are too proud to admit you hate it. I know that you came to my art show last month but left before I could talk to you alone. I know that you–”

“Stop,” Your voice trembles, “Please, I can’t. Taehyung, you hurt me so fucking much. Don’t you get that? I just started feeling whole again. So if I let you back in and you hurt me, I might shatter completely.”

His hands cup your face gently, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I won’t ever hurt you again, baby. Please give me one more chance. That’s all I need. I want to keep you forever, (y/n)... I bought you a ring, did I tell you that when I was drunk? I think I did. I still have it. It’s yours - just like my heart.”

“God, you’re still so fucking cheesy,” You can’t hold back your smile even though more tears are falling down your cheeks.

And then his lips are on yours.

Taehyung kisses you like you're the most precious thing in the universe. Like you might break in the palm of his hand if he’s not careful enough. And maybe you will. But for right now, you melt into him.

He tastes like home.

Taehyung’s touch is tentative at first. His hands slide into your hair, tugging you even closer. You feel like you might burst, feeling so many emotions. Love. Fear. Confusion. Hope. You hook your leg around him, wanting him pressed against you everywhere.

Taehyung groans and one of his hands drops down to grab your thigh, wrapping it more securely around his waist. “Jump, baby,” He mumbles into your lips, and you listen automatically.

He perches you on the edge of the sink, kisses you deeply, and then sinks back down to his knees.

“Tae–” You protest, as he runs his hands slowly up your calves.

“I haven’t tasted you in so long, baby,” His dark eyes burn into yours, “Please don’t let me go another minute without you on my tongue.”

Fuck. Well, you can’t argue with that. When Tae sees you open your legs a bit more, he grins up at you and places a quick kiss on the inside of your knee.

His touch becomes more frantic as he moves up, his mouth placing hot kisses higher and higher.

When he sees the lacy red panties you have on, he snaps, lunging forward and hitching your thigh over his shoulder. Pushing your underwear to the side, his hot mouth is on you, closing over your clit without warning. You gasp as he sucks your bud into his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue.

Your hand winds its way into his curls, pushing him harder against you. He moans into your pussy. “So fucking wet for me, baby. God, I love you.”

Taehyung places a soft kiss on your inner thigh before his tongue returns to lick at your pussy, up and down. His tongue sinks into you, making your hips buck against his face. His hand shoots up to steady you as his tongue continues to flick in and out of you.

The sight of the boy you never stopped loving tongue deep in your pussy almost pushes you over the edge already. “Ta-ae,” You moan, hand tugging at his hair, “Harder, baby, please.”

Your words have their desired effect as he replaces his tongue with two of his fingers and places his mouth back on your clit. You moan as his fingers curl inside you, brushing your walls.

The first few strokes of his fingers are slow. Too slow for your liking, “Taehyung, fuck me with your fingers.”

A rumble moves up his chest as he obeys, pushing another finger deep inside of you. “Fuck, baby,” He curses and begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy, “You feel even better than I remember, so goddamn wet.”

His mouth finally returns to your clit, his tongue flicking over it every so often. You’re hurtling towards your orgasm as his long fingers continue to pound into you and his mouth continues to lick at your pussy.

You feel the heat building up and you come with a gasp. Taehyung continues to fuck you with his fingers and his mouth, carrying you through your orgasm until you slump back against the mirror above the sink.

Taehyung grins up at you, licking up everything you gave him. Finally, you gently push him off you. Still licking his fingers clean, Taehyung’s eyes sparkle up at you, “Well? Wanna get married?”

“Oh my god,” You burst out laughing, hopping off the sink onto shaky legs. “Why don’t you start by wooing me? We’ll go from there.”

“Challenge accepted.”

You blink.

Taehyung smiles. His wild dark curls are sticking up in random places - courtesy of your hands. His eyes are full of their usual sinful promises, but this time they also hold excitement and a tiny spark of hope. “Prepare to be wooed, wifey.”

“Fuck off,” You laugh, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror before smoothing down your sweater dress.

Nodding at your semi-acceptable reflection, you swing the door open to reveal just about every person from the party collectively gathered just outside.

“I knew it!” Seokjin shrieks. “Where’s my mistletoe?”

“My poor bathroom!” Jimin cries, “Defiled! Desecrated!”

“Why am I friends with you all?” Yoongi asks no one in particular.

“Well,” Tae whispers in your ear, “At least we won’t have to tell them, right?”

You smile despite the embarrassing situation and nod. This Christmas might just be your best yet.

a/n: sorry that this is late and severely unedited LOL plz be kind, this is my first fic back and YA GIRL IS RUSTY

#bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btsnoonanet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #kpopuniverse #ksmutclub #kwritersworld #networkbangtan #kim taehyung #kth #taehyung x reader #tae x reader #kth x reader #bts fanfic #bts

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bubblyhoney · 3 years

Text

soundtrack

warnings: sailor language, suggestive themes/mentions of sex, drinking, nicotine use, being tipsy/intoxicated. no graphic or explicit nsfw content besides basically tonguing and giving hickeys and an ass grab.

tags: karl jacobs x fem!reader

words: 1898

A/N: i wrote this thinking that both people in this fic are of drinking age; i’m not, but i thought it would be a cool idea. i can assume many adult gatherings feature alcohol, so yeah. drinking isn’t integral to the plot of this fic. also it is pre-(or post)pandemic bc it’s just a general rule of thumb to not have parties right now.

“Don’t, kill, me,” Karl warbles, setting down his bottle with a sigh. Freaks plays loud and tinny on the TV, album cover bathing those occupying the couch in a grayish light. Those occupants being just you and Karl. The room is lit with purple string lights and that one thrifted lamp with frogs on the shade he’d sworn was the best purchase he’s ever made. You’re sprawled out on the other half of the sofa, ankles crossed and a can of vodka seltzer swaying in your hand. The song changes to 20 Min by Lil Uzi and your foot bounces to the beat.

“What time is it?” You sigh, placing the nearly-empty can onto the coffee table next to your apple berry-flavored pen. He flicks his wrist towards his face.

“2:46,” he delivers, and takes a swig of the Angry Orchard in his hand. His sixth, specifically. The rest of the group had left roughly ten minutes ago, leaving the two loneliest people to drink alone. You, thoroughly tipsy, decided it was better to spend the night on his spare than pay $50 for an Uber. He agreed, of course. Why wouldn’t he?

Lifting onto your elbows, you just stare at him. He lifts an ankle to cross over the other and your eyes drop. What is his fascination with Spongebob socks?

“We should play 20 questions.”

“What?” His head swivels like a bobblehead and a giggle barely escapes your lips.

“20 questions!” You say excitedly, heaving onto your knees to look at him earnestly. “You go first.”

“Um, okay.” The song fades into Paper Planes and he bobs his head to the beat. “What’s your favorite breed of dog?”

“Shiba inu. Are you a virgin?”

The fucking tone of your voice makes him dissolve into giggles, hand pressed to his chest. You just shrug, reaching for the pen in the table. “Fair question, I think,” you say defensively. His chest heaves, but he sits up.

“No—no, I’m not a virgin.” His cheeks are red, but he’s smiling like it was an easy answer. Your mind floods with images of his long hair in your face, long fingers—a sweaty chest. You shake your head. “Okay, my turn,” he continues, giving you a weird look. “would you rather kiss Chucky Cheese or Ronald McDonald?”

“Karl!” You whine. “That is not how 20 Questions works!” You grumpily pull from your pen, blowing the smoke out of the side of your mouth. Eughk. Apple berry sucks.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. The tell-tale guitar chords of The Adults Are Talking floods the room and his face brightens with a new question. “Have you ever been to a concert?”

“Yes, actually. The Jonas Brothers in 2009.” He wrinkles his nose, finishing his cider and dropping it onto the coffee table with a sharp noise. Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you dare badmouth my boys.”

“Wasn’t gonna!” He reaches for your pen and you give it to him with a slight pout on your lips that he glances at.

“Good. Where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” A grin climbs your lips.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His eyes widen and smoke curls out of his nostrils as he hands your pen back. You just shrug and pick up your discarded seltzer. “Gimme a sec to think.”

“So many places?” You tease, finishing the last drop of your drink and crushing it beneath your palm. He shrugs, mirroring you, and cracks open another cider. He seems to think, brows furrowing, as he pulls a swig from the dark bottle.

“Boat.”

“Boat,” you repeat.

“Yup.” He looks at you, gaze flickering to your lips imperceptibly fast. If you were sober you’d probably notice, but you’re not and you don’t.

“You’ve fucked on a boat?” No way. Karl Jacobs. On a boat. Having sex. What an image—

“Yeah, senior year was great for me.” More Than A Woman fills the space of the silence as you consider this. You blink, processing.

“Whose boat?” You're genuinely curious. Was it a yacht, pontoon, fishing boat? Row boat? The sudden scene of him getting his foot stuck in a fishing net while pantless clouds your vision.

“My girlfriend’s.” And that’s that on that because he’s moving on before you can open your mouth and continue the discussion of the logistics of this. “Stop investigating, perv. Now it’s my turn. Hmm— wait! Where is the weirdest place you have had sex?” A sneaky grin is on his lips and now you just want to kiss him, damn it.

“I-Uh. I think it was under the bleachers. I also had a great senior year,” you offer, scooting forward on your knees so that you’re only a foot from Karl. He looks impressed, actually.

“Who was it?”

Your eyebrow raises in question.

“Personal question or one of the 16 left, Karl?”

His cheeks heat and he looks once to the TV.

“Personal,” he mutters into the mouth of his bottle.

“It was Brian Hernandez,” you sigh, gazing off into the distance with a fond look in your eyes. You feel the end of the game of 20 questions as you see him chew on his bottom lip from your peripheral. “Dude was insatiable. Managed girls’ basketball and looked damn good doing it.”

“I managed girls’ soccer,” he says simply, uncrossing his legs. “My girlfriend was goalie.”

“How long did you guys date?” You fold your legs up underneath you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You feel the most sober now out of all tonight.

“Dunno.” He sips at his cider. “Couple weeks maybe?”

You smirk. “Karl Jacobs puts out in the first couple weeks?” That’s hot, you don’t say. He gives you a look. “18 year old Karl was a player,” you tease, leaning forward to poke at his chest.

Smacking your hand away, he sighs and lifts a hand to tousle his hair.

“Guess he was.” Clear eyes meet yours and you take a hit from the pen that lays discarded in your palm. He watches the smoke float from your mouth. The TV screen swipes to Deceptacon and the mood quickly shifts. “So.” He turns toward you with lifted eyebrows. “You were a total nerd in highschool, huh.”

Your jaw drops. “I was not!”

“Come on; yes, you were.” He makes a face and drains half the bottle of cider. “You probably were in SpellBowl and every teacher’s pet.”

“Nice try, bitch. You were a dumb jock. I’ve seen the pictures. The yearbook pictures.” You look pointedly at his hair.

“My hair was not that bad.”

“Yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he grumbles and pushes his hand through his long curls. “Just a little… short.” It’s your turn to make a face.

“A buzz cut nearly to your scalp is more than short.” He huffs at you and finishes the cider just as the song switches. “Anyways.” You don’t really have anything to say, actually. Too busy thinking about teenage Karl smacking tennis rackets around and fielding lost soccer balls for his girlfriend. She’s long gone, right?

“Are you wearing lingerie?” Karl asks suddenly and you look up. He stares pointedly at your chest and you move a hand to pat at your stomach.

“Oh,” you start, and flick the last three buttons open, fabric falling to reveal a baby blue lace corset. “Yeah.” He can’t seem to stop imagining what’s underneath it. Fuck. “Do you like it?” The tone in your voice is taunting and he has to look away.

He clears his throat and places the second glass bottle onto the coffee table.

“Yes.”

You rise onto your knees and pull your arms out of the button-up, letting it fall back on the couch.

“Do you want to touch it?” You're looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, he realizes, and you know exactly what you’re doing. You’re not asking if he wants to touch the corset; you’re asking if he wants to touch you.

“Can I?” He glances at you warily. You just nod, and it’s then that you’re shuffling forward. The material is soft on his fingertips when he brushes a hand across your torso. “Silk,” he mumbles, and stares, transfixed, at the loopy flower pattern crawling across your waist in shades of milky blue. You just hum and watch. He realizes suddenly when he traces a finger up on the ridge of the neckline that you’re not wearing anything underneath it. It makes him stop in his tracks, neck flushing. “Are-are you—,”

“Wearing a bra? No, I’m not.” You lay a hand on his shoulder, hoisting one leg over his thighs and settling down comfortable on his lap. He bristles then relaxes as you slide a hand up into his scalp. “Do you want me to show you?”

He glares at you, barely annoyed, and shifts so that his large hands rest in the curve of your waist. Poison starts in the speakers as his eyebrow raises.

“Do you normally wear corsets when we all hang out?” A lock of your hair moves past your cheek as he brushes it out of the way. His mouth tilts into a smirk. You seem to think about it, lips pursed, and grip both his shoulders in your hands.

“Only when I’ve got someone to impress.” A hand on your lower back presses insistently and you fall further into his lap.

“Who are you here to impress, Y/N?” He’s barely an inch from your mouth now, and can’t seem to keep his eyes on one part of your face. Cool breath fans onto your cheeks and they warm. God, he’s even cuter up close.

“You,” barely passes your lips before he’s taking the side of your neck into his hand and stretching to connect your lips with his own.

Cherry, you think. Cherry chapstick, that cheeky bastard. Taking your wrist in his hand, he loops it up and around his neck. You’re making a noise into his mouth, you realize, right as he’s sliding a hand down to the side of your thigh and gripping it between his long fingers. You shiver as he pulls away too soon, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth before sinking his teeth into your neck. The gasp that leaves your mouth is surprisingly loud and your cheeks flush further. He just hums, pleased, and stretches an arm to the opposite side of your waist to hug you closer. Warm lips move on the skin of your neck and his tongue darts out few and far between the kisses.

“Fuck,” he breathes when your hips jerk forward once.

“Sorry,” you whisper up at the ceiling, eyes falling shut. “reflex.”

He grins against your neck and moves to grip an ass cheek in his palm.

“Your reflex to me licking a hickey is to grind into my crotch?” he teases. You just have to nod, lips parted, as he soothes another bruise with his tongue.

“Karl.” He seems to either not hear you or ignore you for he’s removing himself from your neck and connecting your mouths once more. “Karl,” you stutter between kisses, and he squeezes at your ass.

“Yes?” His lips are bitten and puffy when he pulls away, a smug look on his beautiful face.

“Take off my corset.”

He looks between your face and the lingerie, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comment what you think !

#karl jacobs #karl jacobs one shot #karl jacobs drabble #karl jacobs fluff #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x fem!reader #karl jacobs fanfic #mcyt #mcyt x reader #bubblyhoneyfics

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poppy-metal · 3 years

Note

fwb with connie 👁👁👁👁

yes i see the vision

its hard to pinpoint how it starts, you're on a midnight ride with him to the 711 you guys always go to. cheap slushies in your hands, you with your cherry red and him with his blue raspberry, sitting in his car listening to the radio.

Idle conversation takes a turn when you stick your tongue out at him. "look, its all red".

Connie sticks his tongue out as well, "is mine blue yet?". giggling you nod, and connie being connie, waggles his brows suggestively, "wanna make purple?"

You roll your eyes, used to his innuendos by now, idly swirling your slush around with your straw. "Suprised you even know jackshit about mixing colors, con. You always hated art class"

"Hey, i have at least one braincell rocking around in here," he shakes his head to imitate a bobblehead, making you laugh. He sideeyes you then, "and how are things with mr. pretentious art guy, dare i ask"

You sigh heavily and lean back in your chair, staring out the windshield wistfully. "not great," you tell him honestly. and then you say, "he's horrible at giving shit. he's one of those, 'i get on my knees for no women' type of guy or whatever" you roll your eyes.

It comes easy, telling connie stuff like this. lord knows how many times he'd vented to you about his own sexual escapades, but recently you'd been going through a dry rut and you'd thought you'd found someone nice, someone with shared interests as you, only to find out he took it as a personal offense to go down on you. What a joke.

You turn to glance at connie, noticing his strange silence. He's looking at you curiously, head tilted as his lips play witht the chewed end of his straw. You fidget. "What?"

"He doesn't. Want. To eat you out?" He says slowly, stilted like he's trying to figure out how that sentence even makes sense. "Like. He looks at you and his first thought isn't 'god i want to suffocate myself in that kitty'?"

You scoff, feeling yourself grow hot at his words. "Well....no? But i mean, he says its more common then you think, you know? Men not wanting to go down on you"

Now its connie who's scoffing "Yeah that's a load of bullshit. Your new boytoys a pussy, sweetheart." He says this matter of factly, looking you up and down very appreciatively, "you consider me a good man, yeah?"

You roll your eyes, "setting aside all the dick jokes and chaotic energy, yeah, i think you're actually kinda cool"

"Baby im the standard" connie puts his slushie in the cupholder, reaching over to take yours too, pulling your full attention on him. "and i love eating pussy. more then breathing, i think. I've told you many times the perfect way to go is between a nice pair of thighs and that should be every mans agenda. period"

At his words, at the seriousness of his tone, you find yourself shifting around in your seat. All this talk about pussy eating reminding you you haven't actually had that kind of attention in awhile. You know hes right though.

Connie glances down just briefly, noticing how your thighs have started squeezing together. "How long since anyones given that pussycat some TLC?"

the term "pussycat" would have usually made you roll your eyes, but for some reason at the moment, it just makes your cunt throb. He's so crass. "Uh....like a year maybe?"

"Unacceptable" his tone leaves no room for argument. "You've got a sexy little body, girl, not to mention those legs? Yeah I'd happily die between them. might have even jerked it a few times just thinking about it"

eyes widening you look at him and bite your lip. "R-really?"

"Uh huh," the tension between you two is palpable now, and you don't know when but somehow you two have begun inching closer. Connies eyes dart to your lips before flicking back up to meet yours again, grinning. "Im down to make purple if you are?"

#ask #frens <3 #fuck now im thinking abt him #connie springer smut #connie springer x reader

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 4 years

Text

To Kiss or Kill

Hey, guys! Be sure to check out @kitkatd7‘s challenge!

Pairings: Bucky x Curvy!Reader

Dialogue Prompt: “Is it still considered murder if I give them/you a warning?” is in italics

Warnings: Bit of Reader being self conscious, but that’s it. It ends fluffy!!

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are fantastic Avengers. As long as they aren’t on the same team. Between the pranks, name-calling, and constant teasing coming from both sides - the team can’t handle them on the field. But what happens when a prank goes a little too far?

Word Count: 2556

Everyone was on edge. Tension was rising and it seemed all eyes were fixated on the guy sitting on the couch. Their target didn’t even seem to notice. Bucky’s smug grin was never wavering. Those bright blue eyes were watching the TV, staring opposite of the rest of his team.

“He’s too happy,” Scott told Sam. He didn’t like it. He didn’t trust it. No one did.

Because they were waiting.

Waiting to see what he did that would make James Buchanan Barnes so relaxed and so confident.

“You think I don’t know that? I have no fuckin’ clue what – “

“JAMES!”

Oh.

“BUCHANAN!”

Oh.

“BARNES!”

Uh oh.

Several heads whipped to the door, looking similar to bobbleheads that had just been flicked. The doors to the common area opened and a familiar…well, a familiar body ran inside. The hair on the other hand – that was something else. It was bright. It was neon. It was blue.

Wait.

Blue.

Bucky looked over his shoulder, snorting and bursting into a fit of laughter. Her hair was still damp from the shower she had taken, falling around her and looking closer to seaweed with this vibrant new color.

“She sees her hair is blue, yes?” Vision asked, looking at Wanda.

“I think so, Vis.”

“Lookin’ good, Y/N,” Scott called, trying to help soothe the situation.

Y/N’s shoulders tensed. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, attempting to take slow and calming breathes. Sam and Vision already knew it wasn’t working. Everything about her looked like a wild animal ready to pounce. And right now – there was still a chance that they wouldn’t be prey.

“Might I recommend that we scatter?”

No sooner had the words left Vision’s mouth than the rest of the team were bolting out of the room. It was just Y/N and Bucky. His eyes never left her, arms stretched across the back of the couch and face still wearing that arrogant smile. He was damn proud of his accomplishment.

“Yes, Smurfette?”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

She launched at him, diving over the couch. He spun around, metal arm wrapping around her and pinning her to the couch. Bucky laughed as he looked down at her. Y/N squirmed and wiggled underneath him, face flushed from embarrassment and anger. But she was wiggling, trying to find some leverage. And while that distracted Bucky very well, she found her angle. Her knee pressed against his crotch and he tensed. If it weren’t for the fact that she was threatening to cause more pain than he would have liked, he would have thought she looked cute.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Let me go.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Then let me go!”

It seemed to be an odd little match. Both were waiting for the other to yield, to admit defeat. But they were both a little too damn prideful.

“Truce?” Bucky’s warm breath fanned over her face, eyebrow raised and waiting for her answer.

“You want a truce? After what you did to my hair?”

He grinned. And if it weren’t for the fact that she was still fuming over it, she’d have to admit that he might just look a little cute. Just a little. She didn’t want to admit it out loud, but she liked him. She liked their friendship. Their constant battles.

But oh, she was going to kill him.

“I’ll let you up if you move your knee.”

Y/N hesitated. Did she really want that? Warmth practically radiated off of him. It was a contrast to her naturally colder body and she liked it. In all their teasing they had never been this close before. It was making her heart beat faster and any sense of anger was changing. She didn’t want it to. She needed to stay angry and plot her revenge. Which meant…

A truce would have to do for now.

“Fine. Fine – get off.”

Her knee dropped and he released her wrists. Bucky was very proud of himself. That glint in his eyes was so prominent and it was a rare sight. If it wasn’t at her expense, she might have even been proud of him. But nope. Because she now had that stupid nickname to add to his already growing list. Smurfette.

Rolling off the couch, she stood up and ran her hands through her hair. Wincing at the thought of having to wait to redye her hair, she started thinking of a new plan. “This is not a truce.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Bucky said, crossing his arms as he watched Y/N walk away. “Good luck!”

Her hand flew into the air, middle finger raised high and proud, directed straight at him. His laughter echoed in her ears as she stalked down the hall, the doors closing behind her. Schemes were already running through that chaotic brain of hers. It seemed she was so distracted, she missed Sam leaning against the wall by her door.

“So…how’d that go?”

She glared at him, a low growl slipping out of her throat as she asked, “Is it still considered murder if I give the person a warning?”

Sam laughed as she went inside her room, slamming the door behind her.

This was war.

And so it went on.

Y/N’s retaliation had been to cut off a chunk of Bucky’s hair. But it backfired. Bucky went to get his hair cut and returned looking just as handsome as ever. And just as sneaky.

He had replaced all of her coffee with decaf and the sight of her falling asleep in the middle of a meeting? Priceless.

Y/N’s retaliation was to take all his black shirts…and threw them in the washing machine with some bleach.

And back and forth. On and on for weeks and weeks. Every time one of their teammates thought something couldn’t be outdone, Y/N or Bucky found a way. It was escalating quickly. Too quickly.

Sam watched from the window as Bucky was fixing his bike. Y/N’s latest payback had been covering it in Hello Kitty stickers. Everywhere. So now he was having to peel them off one by one before they were permanently stuck. And Bucky’s bike was his baby. Everyone knew not to mess with it. Running a hand over his face, Sam shook his head. He knew very well that this wasn’t going to end well. It just wasn’t.

But he was also curious. What could Bucky possibly do to get back for this one?

-.-.-

It didn’t take long. And it wasn’t even what Bucky planned.

Y/N had been sparring with Natasha. Since coming to the compound, she had grown a lot. Especially as a fighter. To the untrained eye, her curvy figure would come across as something easy to take down. However, she wasn’t. She was good.

But Natasha had years on her. And she had far more advanced training.

That being said, Natasha knew what Y/N wanted a distracted. When she needed it. The two had talked about why Y/N had let this little prank-war go on for so long and it turned out, it wasn’t just because she enjoyed Bucky’s company and attention. It was proving to be the distraction she needed to get out of her depression.

Y/N landed on her back with a loud thud, grunting and squirming as Natasha pinned her down. She huffed, tapping Natasha’s thigh to get her to release.

“You’re going to get this move,” Natasha assured her, helping her stand. “It just takes time.”

Meanwhile, Bucky was also working out in the gym. He snorted when he heard that comment, catching Y/N’s and Natasha’s attention.

“What, Barnes?” Natasha asked, brow furrowing.

Bucky set the bar down, sitting up and leaving behind the bench presses he had been doing. “You’re showing her a move designed for someone half her size.” He came across harsh. Cold. But he didn’t mean it in such a way. “There’s no way she could do that. Ever.”

Still, neither woman knew he meant well.

Y/N felt her stomach twist in knots as Natasha scowled. “What the fuck, Barnes?”

“It’s true.” Bucky shrugged. “Training Y/N to do a move meant for someone your size could get her or her opponent killed. And it wouldn’t be intentional.”

Y/N was already stepping off the mat, picking up her jacket and bottle. Natasha watched her leave, the door to the gym slamming shut behind her. Turning to face Bucky, she asked, “Do you realize how much of a dick you just sounded like?”

Bucky was staring at the gym doors, brow furrowed. What did he say? Shaking his head, he looked at the redhead. “Nat, she has six inches on you and she’s thick as fuck. Her bone structure, the muscles she has – it’s all different from you. The moves you should be teaching her should be taking advantage of that.”

“Then say it like that! Don’t make it sound like she’s some lard ass incapable of handling herself!”

Bucky froze, staring at Natasha like she grew a second head. “What are you talking about?” Natasha just stared at him, waiting for that lightbulb to switch. Luckily, it didn’t take long. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky bolted up then and there, running across the room and out the door. Natasha watched him leave and chuckled, shaking her head. Walking over to the punching bag, she continued her workout. Maybe now that ridiculous prank war would come to an end.

Bucky stared at the door like it would swallow him whole. Honestly, a part of him wished it would. It would be so much easier than apologizing for coming across like an asshole. Pressing his forehead against the door, he kept pondering how he could ask her to forgive him. He remembered that broken look on her face. The way she looked so torn up because of what he said. He made her sound like a failure and that wasn’t what he meant. At all.

It was here, in front of a stupid door, that he realized why he enjoyed teasing Y/N. Why he enjoyed their pranks and the nicknames and the constant rivalry. He thought it was because he was being treated normal. Sure, that might have been some of it, but there were other reasons. Bigger, far more important reasons. So he needed to find a way to make this up to her. Gnawing at his lip, he started piecing together a plan. It wouldn’t take long.

It was just time to call an actual truce.

-.-.-

A couple hours later and Y/N was still curled up in bed. She had changed into a shirt twice her size and pj shorts that hugged her thighs. Her hair was probably a mess from her cuddling her body pillow and she had long since stopped paying attention to whatever movie was playing on her laptop. She didn’t like that Bucky’s comments had stung like they did, but she couldn’t help it. She was dwelling. She was human like that.

“Y/N?”

The muffled sound of Bucky’s voice made her tense. Why was he here? He got back at her for her last prank. He won. She didn’t want to come up with something. She didn’t have anything else left.

“Y/N, please open the door.”

“G’way, Buck,” she called, voice muffled against the pillow.

“No. I want to apologize.”

Y/N huffed, pausing whatever mindless movie was on. She grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bed and wrapped herself up in it, stumbling to the door. “Why can’t you just go,” she asked, opening the door. She frowned as her gaze landed on Bucky. Well, more like the contents in Bucky’s arms.

Two pizzas, a six pack, cookies, and a tub of ice cream.

“What a way to make me feel like shit, Barnes.” Y/N moved to close the door, but it was stopped by Bucky’s boot. She groaned, meeting his gaze. She didn’t care that he was seeing her blotchy, puffy face or her red eyes. “What,” she whined.

“I really am sorry. What I said earlier – I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

Y/N watched him, clutching the blanket tighter and raising an eyebrow. Where was this going?

“You didn’t?”

“No. Not at all. Y/N, I just meant that Natasha wasn’t teaching you the right moves. Your capable of other abilities that she isn’t. That’s just – “ He was fumbling. Screwing it up. He knew it, but it seemed he wasn’t able to get himself to shut up.

“Bucky.” Y/N offered a smile, letting him know it was okay to stop.

He sighed. “Can I – Can I come in?”

She opened the door wider, allowing him the room to step inside. He set the food down on the dresser and turned. It was the first time he’d been inside her room since he had dyed her hair. There were more photos. A lot of plants. It seemed everything in the room was meant to remind her of good things and to keep her calm. Good. Maybe that would help with this. Facing her once again, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I…I didn’t realize why I liked the whole prank war thing until today.”

She was silent, not sure where he was going with this.

“I – I like having your attention. I like frustrating you and seeing you get excited when you come up with something different. Any time you have a new idea, your eyes practically glow. And your smile…It always makes my day seeing that.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up and ducked her head. He crossed the room, tilting her head up and holding her gaze. “’M not done, Doll.”

“Oh…”

“You are curvy and thick and strong. It’s amazing. And you are the only person who could risk destroying my bike and I wouldn’t just kill you.” He sighed. “What I’m trying to say is – “

“I like you too, Bucky.”

Bucky froze at those words before the biggest smile slipped over his features. He leaned down, pulling her into a sweet kiss as his arms wrapped around her waist. She moved her hands around his neck, tugging him closer and kissing him back. It was sweet. Simple. Everything they needed in that small moment.

When they needed to breath again, he pressed his forehead against hers. Those endless baby blues watched her intently. “Want to cuddle and eat all the junk food I brought?”

Y/N laughed, fingers lightly dancing along his chest. “I would like that very much.”

He picked her up, hands under her thighs and wrapping her legs around his waist. He kept his metal hand on her, the other grabbing the pizza before dropping her on the bed. She squealed, laughing as she curled into the body pillow and he curled up behind her. He pressed play on the movie, elbow propping his head up as his free hand lightly danced along her arm. His eyes fixated on her though, hardly paying attention to what happened on screen. Her face was so soft, so at ease. And her bright blue hair looked alarmingly cute.

Chuckling, he took a couple strands and twirled them around his fingers. “You know,” he kissed along her shoulder. “I’m starting to like the blue.”

Y/N laughed, curling back into him and shivering under his light kisses. “Shut up, Bucky.”

—-

Tag:

@kitkatd7 (SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!)

#kits250challenge #bucky x y/n #bucky x plus size reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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midas-or-khaos · 4 years

Text

The Ones Above Us. Chapter 1

Date:- September 30th, 2008, 14 days after initial discovery.

Time:- 18:42 pm

Flicking a cheap Poundland lighter, sparks spat in the morbid matt of a pure black atmosphere out on location in the back arse of nowhere (somewhere far off Ireland’s version of the M6 he’d been told). Winter winds were of the worst kind: didn’t matter how far inland you made it, or how thick the walls on your house were, they traversed the land with albatross wings wide and undaunted by what they came into contact with, smacking into any surface with no regards to slowing down. They didn’t seem to have any regard for detective Arthur Fleming‘s Malboro either, a stiff left hand shaking at the switch, and the right vainly trying to create shelter for the cigarette.

“For FUCK sake.” Singed fingertips for his troubles.

“Serves you right. No smoking on the job detective, you know better.”

Head Forensic Pathologist Fatima Alvi. A 4’9 willowy thing with a short, plump bob, damn near bobblehead proportions and a tendency to get right under his fucking skin like the irritating shit she was. She’d succeeded young and now all that arrogance she hadn’t quite worked out her system from (what should be mandatory in his opinion) the hard labour of working up the social ladder had only boosted her tendency to tighten her favourite black brogues far too tight, straighten her back like a bloody ballerina and fix that rod she’d shoved up her arse however many years ago a little bit deeper.

“I’m ten yards from the sodding site and wrapped in a white, walkable body bag, I think we can both agree me being over here isn’t going to tamper with shit. And not to challenge ur dictatorship, luv, but you’ve got winged lashes big enough to take off under those goggles o’ yours. Now you go back under those useless gazebos, and I’ll happily freeze my arse off out here.” Turning back round to face the empty, Arthur cursed himself for getting a 4 buzz cut rather than a short back and sides a week ago.

Fatima despised this part of the job. Working with middle-aged, greying twats like this one that clearly hated their jobs, but seemed to have this vendetta against the mere mention of career change. Yes, she was aware as you age, getting a new job gets harder. Surprise though, so did being fresh out of uni. Life sends these little tests to fuck us all over, not just you mate. Must be the bitter taste of Thatcher’s rule that’s left him slow to change. Scarred from the days when not having a job meant not eating, full stop. Doesn’t give the trout-mouthed, once-upon-a-time aryan flag pole a reason to snap like Chihuahua.

“Why don’t you stop trying to get your next sad excuse for a hit from nicotine, and come over here and do your actual fucking job?”

“No respect.” Muttered Arthur to himself, giving up on his lost cause and unzipping the top half of his polymer suit to shove the cigarette into his oversized shirt pocket.

Finally the standing misery addressed the stout woman face to face, a shaking clinging to each syllable, “What the hell d’you need me for? It’s obvious this isn’t a normal murder case, IF we’re even call it a murder case. I mean for god sake, Fatima, the grave is over 50 feet long! Whatever we’re uncovering obviously isn’t a human, it’s a fucking dinosaur! Why am I here in the back-arse of all points nowhere, rather than a load of archaeologists?”

“Because what we’ve found so far isn’t making sense, and last time anyone checked, dinosaurs were fossilised. BONES, detective, not skin. This body is so fresh, there’s absolutely no decay at all! That’s impossible. Then there’s the skin, it hasn’t even been stained by acid or mud, like the skin is coated in some hydrophobic matter. None of this should be possible.” A sigh slipped the last of Fatima’s adrenaline-fuelled spitting out, she was tired. Tired of him, tired of working, tired of being in the cold. “Look, personally I think this is probably an elaborate hoax some twat on YouTube with a fringe or whatever has decided to plant in a well known historic location for views. The arseholes will probably be waiting for the news report on TV so they can have a laugh at our expense. None of this is natural, and frankly it’s starting to look ridiculous. However, so long as our shitty superiors believe this to be a murder case we stick to finding out how this thing died, understood?”

Scathing way of saying it, But a hoax was something Arthur was desperate to cling to. Of course, this was nothing but staged and faked beyond belief! None of this could be real. Give credit where credit’s due though, the bell-ends that did this were thorough. Tutting, Arthur knew he couldn’t argue his case anymore, and started to strut off on those stilts for legs back to the beams of spotlights, Fatima trotting along after him just to keep up.

“Glad to see you’re helping.”

“Just talk to me about what’s going on so we’ll be able to document this and go back to the hostel.” Spat Arthur in retaliation. He hated this job. These people. But most importantly, that thing.

Entering through the only available entrance, the two nearly ran into another detective. Useless idiot. Despite this temporary flimsy building being the size of a football field, there was barely enough space among the number of personnel of all ranks and professions, technology, storage facilities and dig sights to separate the wood from the leaves. To add to the misery, despite being as frosty inside as it was outside, the scent of dank earth and petrol from the excavation diggers still managed to permeate the trapped air. God it stunk.

Taking on a note of interest as she got into her element, Fatima called out as she moved out the way, “Right, so we are at the feet end, and up there at the other end of the canopy is our head. We’re going there first because that’s what the two witnesses found during their initial dig.”

Taking off briskly, the forensic pathologist seemed unfazed by the sheer size of the foot sticking out like a meteorite fallen to earth just a couple of meters from the entrance, not even gracing the thing a glance. Arthur had no such laissez-faire-attitude, frozen in tunnel vision. This is why he didn’t wanna come back in. The damn toes had the familiar, unique swirling pattern of calloused skin seen on humans, and blotches of brown that must’ve been freckles, as they lacked the blotchy, wet texture of mud. Veins passing like eels under ice became exposed near the epidermis, shining icy blue. On an intellectual level, the aged detective knew a foot his height in length couldn’t possibly exist in the real world. If they did, someone would’ve surely reported such a sighting.

On a primal level, instinct was sending adrenaline shooting to his heart, and his lungs could scarcely fill themselves in time to keep up with the demand of oxygenated blood. Those feet looked too alive. The raw power those hands must posses, accompanying such ginormous feet! All of it reminded him of his honeymoon with his wife on Safari, watching a pack of saltwater crocodiles descend in a snapping furry upon shared prey, crushing a zebra’s skull in its death roll, red and bloodied teeth and palate facing the animal’s terror-struck gaze whilst it still vainly screamed for its herd to come to its aid. The vocal cords snapped, eventually silencing under the sheer force of those jaws collectively ripping the head off n one piece. Two crocodiles sent the thing flying twelve feet in the air in pure territorial aggression, neither caring that they’d just murdered another being, before the Wiley victory went after the splattering mess to claim its prize. None of the herd even dared approach the brutality. Would these others do the same if he were captured? Would they leave him to the beast?

“Arthur, c’mon.”

Back to reality. “Sorry.”

Just focusing on Fatima’s back seemed to do the trick, heart rate levelling out below 100bpm. Don’t look round and it won’t be there. Arthur didn’t have it in himself to self scold for such a ridiculous reaction; he knew he should’ve stayed outside.

Still set on her headlong track, Fatima chose to not bother with looking back and risk painfully smacking into some poor soul, so delegated talking to the air in front of herself, hoping he heard her through the ruckus around them. “The head hasn’t decayed, following suit to rest of the currently exposed limbs, though there does appear to be damage. Face appears to be male, middle-aged 35 to 50’s. Noticeable marks being three precise third degree burns across the face resembling a striped pattern. No sign of healing or breakdown within the exposed areas either, which would suggest the burns were created after death.”

“Has anyone tested a sample of skin to see why there’s no breakdown?”

“We tried, but every single time someone has come in with a scalpel to remove a piece, once removed from the body the entire piece seems to crumble instantly to a fine blue dust and disappear.”

“What, Like Indiana Jones style? We found the crusader knight?”

“Please try and take this seriously Arthur, I wouldn’t mention our findings if they were false.” Tutted Fatima.

Arthur knew he was deflecting to shield himself. “I am. Can we at least try collecting the dust?”

“No use, I meant it when I said everything disappears.”

“So anything we test or observe must be on the body at all times or it’s essentially worthless?”

“Correct.”

Well that made everything just that little bit harder. JUST! They’d been reduced to the detective abilities of the bloody Edwardian period. No testing beyond what could be extracted from the soil (and judging by the lack of messy bodily fluids, the thing probably didn’t have any), and they had yet to uncover the rest of the body to see if there were any signs of obvious trauma that would account the reason behind the death. This was going to take forever. Every waking moment in this shithole was a second wasted. Whoever made this thing was one sick fuck.

“If I ever find the shitheads responsible for this prank, I’m gonna hand em a fucking life sentence. The law be damned.”

Just missing a collision with another photographer, the head finally came into full view. Even from this vantage point above ground, the thing didn’t seem small in any way. If he’d thought the foot was massive, the head was a new beast entirely upon its own pedestal. Surprisingly peaceful for a dead person, no expressions of pain or strain, just a suspiciously perfect sullen face (aside the burns of course). Knotted, greying-blond hair splayed out in dregs from the skull like old depictions of the sun’s rays, haloing the face and drawing you to the pair of closed lids. He wasn’t pretty by any standard, Arthur vainly self-noted. Weak chin jutting thin lips out from the round face, a high hairline accentuating the large forehead and a heavy brow ridge. If he weren’t the size of a four story building and significantly burnt, he’d have been extraordinary ordinary. Forgettable even. The detective knew he shouldn’t be saying that. It was a ‘victim’ after all.

“If we can’t remove any body parts, can we perhaps open the body up instead and take samples of anything inside the stomach, lungs, chest cavity etcetera?”

A grimace pulled at the woman’s lips, marring her usually stoic face, “Already done it, we had Liam go inside with a contamination dry suit whist you were outside. It’s the kind of stuff sewage divers wear at human waste plants.”

Arthur couldn’t help turning his own nose up at the prospect as well, shuffling unconsciously just a little further away. “And?”

“There were important pieces missing. A full, undisturbed respiratory system: lungs, trachea, the works. Oddly, absolutely no digestive or reproductive organs what so ever. Weirder yet, there were no signs of sabotage or surgical removal, it was like they were never there in the first place. What really caught my eye on the camera feed was that he had, what we think, are a series of air sacks integrated along the connection between the lungs and the diaphragm.”

“Meaning?”

Poor Fatima was looking at Arthur like she was trying to explain how to use the toilet to a three year old, a strong side eye from her place parallel to him

“MEANING this thing had an incredibly resourceful breathing mechanism.”

“So no basic necessary functions like the need to eat and reproduce, but a top quality breathing system. And you wonder why I’m not taking any of this seriously? Why couldn’t we just send a report saying it was a hoax and save time? It technically doesn't even come under the scientific detention of alive.”

“Well certainly not now it doesn’t.” Arthur gave his own stink eye back.

“... Look, why don’t we try and get the body transferred over to London? Our proper, large-scale testing equipment will be at our fingertips, and we’d be able to at least stick this problem on some stupid lab rats and be done with it, what d’you say?”

Fatima finally stopped half-hearting her disgust to focus on Arthur face to face. “Arthur, where d’you think that kind of space and discreetness would be possible in the middle of London city? This body is over fifty feet all, we wouldn’t even be able to keep it cool enough to stop potential decay-“

Arthur butted in, “- This thing has been out the ground for two weeks, Fatima, and hasn’t so much as lost a hair naturally. We don’t need to worry about decay. Yes, transferring the body would disturb the ‘crime scene’, but if we get this thing sent off as archeological dig remains, the disturbance won’t matter, and we’d be off the case. I don’t wanna be stuck with this shit anymore, do you?” Was he sounding too desperate?

She knew she shouldn’t mention it, not to herself and DEFINITELY not Arthur, but within her selfish consciousness, Fatima couldn’t agree with that. This may be a hoax to Arthur, but all these findings were starting to settle saplings in the garden of her imagination. These Findings weren’t Styrofoam cut outs painted with acrylic, nor were they polymer clay held together over a skeleton. whatever material this was, it was unlike anything she’d seen before. Maybe all this was a hoax, maybe all this was a waste of time.

But secretly, she wished it wasn’t.

“...I’ll see what I can do.”

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

Text

It’s The Avengers (02x12)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 2 Episode 11: Far From Home

Season Finale

Warnings: dirty thoughts, a little fluff, good parenting, monsters and men. I am sorry but I am not sorry.

Word Count: I really wanna just leave everything and go live with the monks in the mountains if they allow me to take my laptop with me so I can keep writing.

A/N: Nearly forgot to mention the wonderful @marvel-lous-things for her original creativity that inspired the sam-bucky dialogue. I’ll link the original post here. I also did add some Brooklyn Nine Nine scene in there because I WANT TO AND I CAN!! I MISS B99!

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Why do you have to be so hard?"

Peter, Javier('s camera), Wanda, Vision and you turned your heads towards a very heated Sam trying to walk out of the elevator with Bucky, their bulked up biceps fighting each other to get out of the elevator together, telling the other to go first, but going at it together, eventually looking at the other with a murderous stare. Finally, Sam rushed out before Bucky.

"It's not my fault if you cannot handle my weight," Bucky gruntled lowly, forcing you to exchange some very confused looks with Peter, Wanda and Vision. Vision was more curious than confused like the good young baby AI that he was.

"Handle your weight? Dude, do you know how hard it is to handle your ass when you keep shifting like that? Throwin' me off my rhythm."

What started as confusion now turned into the horror of knowing the unknown, forcing your eyes wide.

"Wha-" Peter tried to ask you in a whisper, but you were already covering his ears, making him look at you questioningly. "You know I'm eighteen, right?"

"I throw you off your rhythm?" Bucky jolted back slightly. "It's you who's always wiggling under me and throwing me off balance!"

"Of course I gotta wiggle, man!" Sam burst out, "you dig your fingers in me so hard! I can't just freeze there when you get rough!"

Now you were covering your ears while all Peter could whisper was, "no, you know what, cover my ears. I liked it better that way. Please. I beg you."

"I only do that because you push us too high, okay!" Bucky argued, compelling you to hide your head inside the couch. Peter just sat there frozen in shock, his eyeballs on the verge of coming out. "You clearly still have no idea how to ride because you're too used to doing it solo."

You whimpered. Peter managed to blink. Hard.

Vision was simply staring at the two of them.

Wanda went by normally shuffling the Uno cards.

"Fine, then I'll go back to solo," Sam raised his hands.

"What, no!" Bucky begged, "I like it! Please, next time I'll won't dig my fingers so hard."

"And no biting."

"It was one time! The first time! I was scared of the freaking high!"

"You bit my shoulder! I said no biting."

"Okay. Okay!"

"All right."

A shake of the hand wrapped around the other's arm sealed the deal before the party looked at the crowd sitting on the lounge floor.

"'Sup," Sam casually greeted the four of you. Bucky just simply waved.

Red . You and Peter were red from your ears to your neck.

You got up, your hands trying to find some sort of support to hold you through everything you were going inside you right now, before ultimately folding them together.

"I'm glad you guys reached a common ground," you pointed out with a forced smile that nearly made your eyes disappear, "but there's um...a bedroom for a reason. Please, think about it before...you know, you guys argue again."

Saying that, you left the lounge, whispering, "Now how the heck do I bleach my memory?"

"Wait, I'm coming with you," Peter announced, getting up and taking your hand to walk out.

"Where are you guys going?" Bucky asked.

"Dr Banner's lab," Peter stated rubbing his arms, "to find out how we can destroy brain cells?"

"But doesn't that affect other functions too?"

"It would be worth it."

Sam and Bucky exchanged a confused look before turning to the two lovers left behind.

Vision shifted his gaze between your figures disappearing behind the wall while Sam and Bucky, contemplated something before turning to Wanda. "I think they were terrified for some reason."

Wanda : Sam and Bucky were talking about their plans to fly. Well, Sam doing the flying while Bucky hangs on his back. Stark showed me the whole carrier thing he made for them. *nods* *sighs* Yeah, Y/N and Peter can't read thoughts now can they. *eyes go wide in some latent thought* That girl has such a graphic memory! She could already imagine everything within seconds. *scrunches nose* in 4K! *shudders*

The Lab

"Pass me that blue vial," Banner murmured near the glass, the camera taking his face shot from the other side of the glass- zooming out to focus on a thin glass-like structure being held by a pair of tongs right in the middle of that vacuumed glass cube.

Long white slender fingers pressed a glass vial filled with the blue liquid right to Bruce's nose, making the scientist jolt a little before looking at the bearer of the hands, sighing, and taking it in his gloved hands.

The lab goggles were adjusted again before the vial was placed in another set of tongs and introduced inside the controlled environment.

This time, behind the glass besides Bruce, Loki showed his face, looking at that thin glass strand with utmost curiosity.

"What forces are you conjuring this time, doctor?"

Bruce shushed him, concentrating on the solution.

"Alright," he got away from the cube to clear his throat, "Friday, take the exact amount right to the very last millimetre and pour the N.A.T. on the compound."

Loki was on the edge of his toes now.

Loki : It is only once in a fortnight that these excuses of humans do something partly entertaining. I wouldn't want to miss it when Banner has another mishap and morphs himself into a rabbit this time. *gazing in the distance fondly* Maybe a purple one. *smiles*

"In three, two..."

Loki was quickly shifting his gaze between the experiment and Bruce. "Oh for the sake of Valhalla! Just do it already!"

"One!"

Flashes and sparks flew the moment the liquid touched the compound, making the two cover their eyes till they were sure the blazes died.

"Experiment ninety-nine point nine-nine percent successful, Doctor Banner."

"What's that, a new floor-cleaner?" you commented, walking inside the lab with Peter.

Loki leaned in to watch the outcome of the experiment while Bruce removed his goggles and gloves, too struck by the final product to contemplate your poor jokes.

"That's..." Loki lost his words, following Bruce's hands as they carefully took out an almost translucent and seemingly delicate piece of a flower made of glass- its petals decorated with capillaries running through them, reflecting softly on their own wavelengths, dancing gracefully, twirling and shifting with the lights falling on them.

"A flower," Loki grumbled.

You and Peter, on the other hand, were gasping out loud- clearly mesmerised by the outcome.

"How did you do that Doctor Banner?!" you exclaimed, not able to contain your excitement.

"Just used the geometric structures of certain compounds to make a piece of art for me," Bruce cajoled, clearly both impressed and shocked with himself.

Loki snorted, catching your attention. "And here I was thinking you were finally making some use of that brain of yours Banner."

"Come on, Loki," you stressed, "this is practically art out of science. Appreciate it. And," you turned around to look at Bruce, wiggling your shoulders as you spoke, "I'm guessing it's for someone special."

Bruce blushed straightaway!

"Uhh..." he tried to hide behind his hands while adjusting his glasses, "It's her birthday. I-I-I asked her when's her birthday once and she told me she didn't remember her real one. Just that today is the date she thinks is her birthday. So, I thought I'd do something special for her."

"Ugh, kill me," Loki complained, stomping- very graciously, his shoulders moving with an angry swing under that dark green t-shirt he was wearing- to the other end of the lab.

You, on the other hand, squealed with utter delight, jumping where you stood. "This is fantastic, Bruce!"

"Thanks!" Bruce glowed, smiling ear to ear. "And do you know it's pretty sturdy. Almost indestructible. And at the same time really delicate."

Bruce : *twirling the flower in his hand with the most tender smile* Just like her. *smiles again* *pauses* *camera pans in his anxious face* Shit, don't tell her I said that.

The camera caught Loki still rolling his eyes at the entire conversation at the other end, bonking the little bobblehead of Hulk kept on Bruce's desk.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! I should bake her some of my molten chocolate cupcakes!"

This caught the God's attention.

"Yes," he declared out of nowhere, composing himself, "that would be a great gesture."

"Oh, but we're out of ingredients. I finished the last batch when Cassie came over," you pointed.

"Well, take one of the cars to the nearest grocery store," Bruce stated matter-of-factly.

Your lips turned into an 'o' before shaking your head. "I can't do that."

"Why not?" Bruce questioned, "I'm sure Tony won't mind."

"Won't mind what?"

The camera swerved to the lab's entrance to watch Tony saunter in.

"Taking one of your cars so she can get the ingredients to make cupcakes for Nat's birthday," Peter answered.

"For everyone," Loki added from his corner.

Tony looked at you and shrugged, "Sure. I don't mind. But I don't want even a single scratch on my cars. Otherwise, Friday can order some for you."

You stood there quiet while everyone looked for an answer.

"Yeah, I think Friday should handle that."

"Oh, come on, Tony!" Bruce huffed, "let her go if she wants to go. I'm sure nothing's gonna happen on the most desolate road in this part of the state."

"No, that's-" you tried to speak, only to be cut short by Tony.

"Okay. Not what I was going for but since you started it, the weirdest shit happens on desolate roads, Bruce!"

"Guys, listen-"

"She'll be in her car," Bruce stressed, "stopping at the grocery store, getting the stuff and coming back. Not to mention Friday'll be there looking out for her."

"Okay, doc-"

"I was talking about responsible driving and you just had to take it to another level!"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!"

Silence.

Neither of the science buddies tried to say something, shifting where they stood.

"Well, that solves everything," Loki's words echoed through the air of embarrassment.

The Driveway

"You really don't have to do this."

The camera captured your very concerned face before panning out to show Tony and Loki standing on your either side while Peter sat by the side with his sunglasses on, sipping on some orange soda through a crazy straw.

Peter : *glasses on as he finishes sipping through his crazy straw* *a good wind playing with his hair* Oh, I know how it's gonna go down. *turns his head to the sound of the engine getting louder* Better than a Formula One.

Thank you, Friday," Tony announced as a black SUV comes and stands in the driveway right next to you. He stepped towards it, clicking open the door and gesturing you to move, "In you go."

But you didn't budge. "Yeah, I don't think so." Shaking your head vigorously.

"Why not?" Tony asked point-blank.

"Uh..." you hesitated, taking the corners of your jacket in your fingers and wringing them, "I...I don't think I'm made for driving."

"Everyone is made for everything. What everyone lacks is practice."

Sounds of clapping broke just as Tony concluded, making everyone turn to watch Loki and Peter applauding his words.

"Not bad, Stark," Loki applauded over the soft wind flapping your hair everywhere.

"But-"

"We're just trying something new here, kid," Tony pointed out, shifting the door wider.

You looked at him and then at the car, your fingers nearly ripping the fabric of your jacket apart before a breath of 'ah, screw it’ left your lips and you climbed in."

Tony put on his glasses and moved to the other side, all the while looking at Peter, "there better not be any crumbs and sticky soda on my driveway."

Peter gave him a thumbs-up as continued munching happily on the chips.

The camera now shifted to the dashboard, catching a good angle of the car's inside from the front.

Tony sat in the passenger seat and shut his door the same time Loki sat in the back and shut his.

"Alright then, let's begi-" he began, before stopping short on catching Loki in the back- leaning forward to hear what all Tony had to say, "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know how to drive your modest transport, either," he simply stated.

Tony opened his mouth to say something snarky but you beat him to it.

"Oh, thank God! It sucks being the only adult in the room who does not know how to drive."

Tony looked at you for a moment before settling in his seat. "You can stay but I don't want to hear a peep out of you. Okay, you" he pointed at you with his eyes, "seatbelt."

You quickly let your hands go to your side to bring down the seatbelt and secure it down at the other end. "Now," Tony continued, "look down at the pedals. From your right- gas, brake, clutch. The Gas pedals move the car, the brake will slow it down and bring it to a stop and the clutch will help you shift gears when the speed changes. When the speed goes high on this meter, the gear goes high, When it goes low, we go low. Okay? Try moving the gear and see if it's comfortable. Yes, just like that. Good. See that button with the start/stop sign? Push it when you want to start the car. Yes, you can start it in neutral as well. Once you start the engine you put the gear in drive while pressing down on the clutch. Okay? Wanna try it?"

Your breaths were a little shallow by now. "You sure?" you nearly whimpered.

"Yes, I am. It's okay. I am sitting right here," Tony comforted you.

You looked down at the pedals while your hands gripped hard on the wheels. Taking in one deep breath, you pressed the button and felt the car vibrate a little but never heard the roar of the engine. "Is it broken? I don't think it started-"

"It has a quiet engine," Tony blurted out to stop you from hitting the button again and again.

Making an apologetic face, you wiggled in your seat, straightened your back, checked the mirrors for no reason at all and took another deep breath. "Okay, now I press the clutch and change the gear?"

Tony nodded.

All this time Loki rested his hand in his palm, slowly getting tired of the instructions.

Pressing the clutch, you shifted the gear in drive.

"Perfect," Tony praised you, "now let go of the clutch slowly as you lightly put your foot on the gas."

With excitement in your eyes, you nodded and let go of the pedal. And just as you did, the car jerked, throwing Loki ahead.

"I'm so sorry!" you shouted, in Tony and Loki's direction.

"And this is why you wear a seatbelt," Tony followed with a chuckle, looking at the grunting figure of Loki trying to sit back up.

The Driveway

"Yo," Sam greeted Peter as he came out with Bucky, "got kicked out of the house?"

Peter shook his head, slurping his soda, never shifting in his seat that he was clearly well-adjusted in. "Watching Mr Stark teach Y/N how to drive."

Both Sam and Bucky looked at the SUV in the distance jerking and moving before coming to a stop, starting, jerking and moving ahead, suddenly picking up speed, suddenly screeching to a halt before the whole cycle started again.

"Huh."

Peter pointed to his left without looking. "There are chairs in there."

Half an Hour Later

"What're you guys doing in the driveway?"

Peter, Sam and Bucky- all three of them flinched hard at Natasha's voice coming from right next to them.

Bucky : She is sneaky. I don't like sneaky.

*camera pans out to show Sam standing behind Bucky with a plushie, throwing it suddenly from Bucky's left*

Bucky : *immediately tilts to the other side while taking out a knife from nowhere to stab the plushie*

Sam : We talked about this! Assess the f****ng target before going 'stab'! *continues in his angry voice* Congratulations! You just killed a plushie!

"Watching Tony teach Y/N how to drive."

Behind Natasha came the huffing figure of Scott carrying bags on bags in both his hands. They looked at the amount he was carrying compared to the bulk in Natasha's hand.

"No wonder you always keep beating me in training!" Scott huffed and tried to breathe through his words. He dropped the bags and let his body go floomf over them. "You're sooo strong," he heaved, "make me like you, senpai ."

"Get off the bags," she stressed, "you'll break the nachos," before turning to the trio with a stern stare, "you fellas really don't have anything to do?"

"We're supporting Y/N," Peter answered, pointing at the car nearly missing the pavement and skidding while making a turn.

But Nat didn't buy it. "What's the bet for?" She finally asked, forcing the trio to look at each other.

"How much time it takes for Tony to lose his cool," Sam admitted, "I'm going for twenty more minutes. Bucky says Tony's already lost his cool. He's just sitting in there crying. Peter thinks he'll last another hour."

The car turned and came towards where all of them sat. Nat took one step back as the vehicle skidded to a halt right next to Peter, the bumper giving him a little bonk on his knees.

The camera shifted to inside the car with three horrified faces trying to find their breaths.

"I told you," you tried but no voice came out of your throat, "I...told...you."

"Okay," Tony breathed, gulping down the horror but still having his hand wrapped around the grab-handle as tightly as humanly possible, "okay. Um...Loki," he announced, "your...turn?"

"You bitch," you hissed, "you said you didn't know how to drive!"

The car swerved by the audience effortlessly as they hooted, whistled and cheered.

Loki veered the steering wheel with such professionalism that you cursed him again.

"I swear I didn't!" Loki chuckled with excitement, "this is just so easy and fun!"

"Eyes on the road, Greeny," Tony ordered, but his eyes too were lit and he clearly wasn't holding the handles now, "now show me how you go through those two bars and then back it up."

Loki did what Tony asked, swerving smoothly through the bars, breaking without throwing anyone in the window and, reversing just as smoothly through them.

"Woah!" Tony heard himself saying, "okay now show me that thing Lighting McQueen does in 'Cars'."

Loki scrunched his nose. "The movie we saw last night?"

"Yup!"

"Brace yourselves!"

And saying that, he hit the gas and showed the crowd how to turn right to go left, making Peter and Tony lose their minds in their rush, while Sam landed a 'hot damn!', Bucky and Scott had their jaws dropped. Natasha was the only one not really phased by it.

Natasha : *nonchalantly* He can drive. *does a little head tilt* Good for him.

The vehicle came to a halt near the entrance and you were the first one to get out.

"Hey, Y/N, you did good!" Sam and Nat tried to cheer you up.

"Yeah," was all you said before turning to walk back in.

"Y/N, kid," Tony called out for you, "come on let's give it another shot."

"No, Mr Stark. I think I'm done for the day."

"But we didn't even go about for even an hour. Let's work on your gear shifting without looking at them."

"I don't think that'll hel-"

"We won't know until we try. Come on let's take anoth-"

"I can't!" You nearly shouted, taking everyone by surprise. "I can't Mr Stark! Driving requires me to focus on everything at once and I made not for that! I get distracted so easily. I can't even drive safely on an empty road inside my own home what makes you think I could possibly handle an entire vehicle on a busy road?! And believe me when I say I've been told time and again to change this 'habit' of mine. Well, I can't." You shrugged forcefully. "I really can't. That's how I freakin' am. So, sorry you have to deal with a f****d up kid like me."

Ending that, you walked inside, leaving everyone mum- discreetly looking at Tony before walking back in. Everyone except Loki.

Tony looked at the God, giving him a once-over. "The hell you looking at me like that?"

Loki just crossed his arms across his chest, shaking his head, "She can't drive. She clearly doesn't have the confidence and would have to take a lot to create the natural focus required. Just wondering what you're going to do now."

Tony furrowed his brows at Loki. "What d'ya mean what I'll do? I'll find a way to help with whatever's required. It's not her fault she can't focus or is easily distracted. I'll find something to help her with that too."

Loki : *looking at an invisible void in the distance* huh. I cannot believe I'm saying this but Stark one hell of a father figure. *Pouring his lips* *scrunching his nose* Is that why all these wayward nuisance of beings choose to live with him? *Looks behind the camera* What? I don't see him as a father figure. All I see him is as a bother figure. Always bothering me any chance he gets.

*camera pans out to show Tony standing beside him leaning on the car*

Tony : Would you like me to take you horse-riding?

Loki :

Tony : *arches his brow and places his head on his fist, watching Loki tenderly*

Loki : *not making eye-contact* *softly* that would be great. Thank you

Tony : *pats him the back and leaves* Good job today.

Loki : *closes eyes* *shakes his head* *moans* Yeah, I already feel weird.

The Dorms

Tony lightly knocked your door before clicking open a bit and asking if he could come in.

The camera tried to follow him but Tony closed the door behind it, forcing it to go out to the balcony.

He sat down on the edge of your bed looking at the half-finished sketch of a woman.

"You made this?" He turned to ask your figure lying on your stomach with your head towards the footboard.

You nodded.

"Wow!" He whispered with enthusiasm before his eyes caught something in the corner by the window. "Is that a canvas? You've been painting. On a canvas!"

You shrugged. "It's not that hard. Anyways I'm not that good."

"Why do you think that?" He asked as softly as possible. "Have you seen what you create? This is beautiful!"

"This is half-finished."

"Well, it's better than not being created at all!"

You blinked, and a lone tear left your eye to directly vanish in the sheets under you.

"I'm scared," your broken voice declared in a whisper.

"Of what?"

"Of not being able to drive safely. I can hardly focus on what gear to shift while having to quickly judge what pedal to hit. How am I ever supposed to drive when all my senses aren't in the car with me?"

"Hey," he stressed softly, brushing your hair away, "we'll figure it out. And it was just the first day. You already learned which gears are what. And you were really nailing those brakes."

You both giggled.

"There's nothing you cannot do," Tony assured you, his eyes giving you a soft yet stern look, "now stop beating yourself up, get out of these stinky bedsheets and go make sure Peter and Bucky don't burn up my kitchen to figure out your cupcake recipe."

You chortled and Tony looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world right now.

"Wow," Loki's voice came from the opposite corner of the room where he stood with arms crossed ever so casually, "you two really are boring. And cringy."

Tony and you gasped and threw a pillow each at him.

"Get out!" You both said in unison.

The Lounge

"You are such a sore loser."

You tilted your head and arched your brows at Loki.

"It wasn't a competition, Loki."

He simply shrugged and popped a grape in his mouth. "Something a loser would say."

"Whatever, man," you muttered, shooing him away as you went towards a very confused Peter hanging down from the ceiling to find out what Bucky was trying to cook.

"Wait." You heard Loki say after you felt a soothing coolness grab your hand lightly, making you turn back to him.

"Hmm?"

"There's-" he looked around to see if anyone was listening- clearly ignoring the camera- before coming back to you, "a thing. I need to learn how to paint. I've heard you're a really good artist. And clearly, I'm not. So, would you help me?"

You : This guy *a smirk lies at the corner of your lips* has the weirdest ways of saying 'I'm sorry, Y/N. I wish I could make your day better'. *nods* *raises shoulders* *bites lips* usually he does.

"Hmm," you pretended to think, "I don't know. Let me just show off my artist skills around a little bit and then I'll start teaching you."

"Oh, you think I'm-I'm trying to make you feel better? Don't make false assumptions, woman!"

"Din meek fils issimtion wimin," you teased him with your scrunched nose, right before Tony walked through the two of you.

"Five-second rule," he announced as your hands parted for Tony to go ahead and he slipped something over Loki's wrist.

"What's this?" Loki looked at the green bracelet that clicked shut over his wrist and did not come undone no matter what he tried.

"Just something to stop you from jumping in rooms unannounced," Tony responded, waving at him as he went away with a happy gait.

"Y/N," Natasha called out from the kitchenette, "you better take over before these boys make something everyone's gonna regret. And no one eats it before midnight!"

“Stark, get me out of this!”

Outside The Library

You walked with the camera following you out of the library, running right into Loki.

"Hey, have you seen Mr Stark?"

"No," Loki shook his head, "I rarely look at things I find unappealing."

"I made something for Nat, but I want his opinion on it. Come on," you pressed, taking his hand and pushing him away from the library and towards the lab.

"Stark's opinion? I'm sure Gordon Ramsay would be a better choice than him."

"I'm surprised you know who that is."

"Of course, I know who that is. Everyone fears him. I respect that. And he seems to have a cult!"

You sighed and turned the corner. "He has followers, not a cult. Like fans."

"What's the difference?"

"W-" and you found yourself short of an explanation, glad you were already by the lab's doors.

"Let's just concentrate on you making friends first, okay," you said in your best sarcastic tone, swinging open the door to watch Tony in the middle of the lab, going for the very familiar Pandora's box. The thing similar to the one that had teleported you to another planet.

Everything happened at once in front of the camera.

"DAD, NO!"

The small bag you'd been carrying in your hand fell down on the ground as you ran towards Tony. A shriek left your lungs as you forced him away from the familiar light that came out of the box. Loki was already trying to shield Javier behind the camera while trying to get you away from the path. Tony was not aware of what was happening until he was touching the floor.

And the next second everything disappeared.

The cameras in the lab caught Tony on the ground trying to get up, looking for you.

"Y/N?" He shouted out for you.

"Loki!" He commanded, getting up- not so gracefully- on his feet.

"Javier!" He begged, only to see Bruce, Natasha and Peter rush in from the doors.

"They're gone, Mr Stark," Friday's voice echoed through the silence of the lab, as the man tried to count his breaths while the others rushed to help him.

Unknown Place

The camera was blurry. A few sounds came from a distance before the lens shook and was wiped off where it lay- in the desert. It focused on two figures lying just a few feet away.

Javier's figure came in front as he tried to shake up one of them. And just as he did, Loki stirred, grunted and got up with a little difficulty.

Javier tapped his shoulder to get his attention away from his strange surroundings to your unconscious figure lying next to him.

"Y/N," he called out for you tenderly, his eyes scanning for any wounds on your arms or face. "Y/N, wake up," he gently tapped your cheeks and arms. "Y/N," he mildly shook you in vain.

"Y/N STARK!!" he shouted, giving you a good shake, making you get up with a scream.

"What the hell, Loki?!!"

"Come on," he commanded more than requested, taking your arms and helping you stand up.

"W-where are we?"

Javier went out of the frame and the camera was lifted up from the ground to show the barren land you and Loki were looking out to. Shades of yellow went till the horizon with curled up black tree-like structures at various intervals.

"I don't know," Loki sighed, his eyes taking in everything.

You turned around, the camera catching you walk over the rough ground outside the frame. "It's certainly not Earth. I haven't been to this...place before. We must stay close. Javier, do not leave my sight."

"Uhh...Loki?"

"Of course, you too, Y/N."

"No, Loki," you continued, the camera catching your concerned gaze as your hand pointed at something, "look."

The camera turned to face down the little hill that you three stood on to capture a battalion of aliens standing in prime formation at attention. Scales of iridescent gold and brown marked the skin on their shoulders and limbs, claws for hands and feet and a wolf-like face covered in warrior helmets.

"Yeah, suddenly I've started appreciating that old planet-thing I was trapped on," you mentioned, your voice breaking with fear. "You can teleport us back, right?"

"Ye-"

Both you and the camera turned to look at Loki, who was looking down at the amulet on his wrist.

"Stark," he sighed.

"Shit," you cursed, "sorry."

A blowhorn sounded down the hills throughout the valley, making you jump close to Loki, catching the fabric of his Henley from the elbow with your fingers.

"Okay, I've seen The Lord of The Rings enough times to know this is not good!" You nearly shouted with fear.

And just as you uttered those words, the clanking of armour sounded close to you, coming up the hill.

Three of those alien warriors came up, their march quite in unison as the taller, bulkier one walked ahead of the two who seemed to be accompanying him.

The camera stepped farther away as the creatures stepped closer while you tried to be brave yet took a step back so as to let Loki shadow you partially.

The stomps of threatening footsteps stopped nearly seven feet away from you. The stench of something eerie filled the air.

The two aliens at the back stabbed the ground with their metallic staffs, creating a gust of wind along with an incoherent vibrating echo.

The leader stepped forward towards you three, his gait slow and measured, his eyes shining a concentrated mix of purple. You shifted on your feet. Loki didn't.

He stopped right in front of Loki, standing at least two feet taller than him.

"Loki," came a low-pitched growl from the jaw that opened to reveal more fangs inside, "ward of Odin. Son of Laufey. Saviour of Asgard-"

"You could save the titles. It'll take you an entire day to get over half of them," Loki declared without skipping a beat.

The creature paused before taking out his sword from its sheath, making you step back.

"Loki, master of the Nubrath!" The leader spoke again, this time while holding his sword in both his...claws and raising it to the God. "Your army is ready."

The blowhorn sounded again.

"We're all prepared to take over the earth under your rule."

~End of Season 2~

You’ll get season 3 if you curse me with the balance of work and home to get me as many hours to write as possible. Bonus if you get me my dream job. No, I won’t tell you, you have to figure it out on your own.

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omnifalls-10 · 4 years

Text

Omni Falls Chapter 1: 10 and Up

Gravity Falls, Oregon. This place seems normal to average tourists, but in all honesty, they wouldn't be wrong. The town itself is surrounded by pine trees, where the forest is home to various wildlife and other….inhabitants, there is a town square with multiple buildings used for business across the various areas and town hall near the town square. Average town, average people, and average day-to-day life, right? Aside from this, there’s one place where an individual will see when they come to this sleepy town: the Mystery Shack.

The Mastery Shack is simply a tourist trap. This shop is able to attract many visitors with its absurd legends and lore, yet somehow this business is able to make a large profit each time a group of gullible tourists would come by to get souvenirs and knick-knacks. The one that leads this business was “Mr. Mystery” himself, Stan Pines. He is a skilled con artist who is able to keep this shack running through lucrative means and has no shame in it, so long as he managed to make some cash. Honestly, he is rather content with this lifestyle for 30 years.

That is until his nephew and niece, Dipper and Mabel Pines arrived. The twins were bought by their parents believing they needed to be outside more and figured going to stay with their great uncle was a good idea.

The twins themselves see things differently in life: Mabel was a ball of sunshine and energy, Dipper was more critical thinking, Mabel was free-spirited while her twin brother was more self-conscious. Despite these polarities, their bond remains tightly-wound and has been ever since. The twins have different views of being in this town so far. For Mabel, she seems to have no problem with where she was; she took it in happiness and stride, whether it’s having splinters in her hands or a goat chomping on her sweater, she doesn’t let it bother. Dipper, on the other hand, felt on edge since he first got here. He couldn’t explain it in words but he just feels like the weirdness he felt for this town was like an itch. An itch that he can’t scratch. Despite this, Stan seemed to not care and was focused on his tourist trapping, to which he and Mabel work as an extra set of hands for his business.

As business is slow in the shop, one of the Pine Twins takes this as an opportunity to finally find a summer romance, as Mabel hides behind a row of Stan-bobbleheads. She peeks to see one boy reading her note aloud.

"Uh…..Do you like me? Yes? Definitely? Absolutely?", the boy reads, confused as he looks around to see who gave him the note.

"I rigged it!", Mabel whispers to herself, excited and proud her plan worked. She's on a roll. Dipper is wiping a jar as he looks at her congratulating herself.

"Mabel", Dipper states, finishing clean, "I get that you're in this "Boy Crazy" phase, but you're really overdoing it with the crazy part."

Mabel turns her head to her twin, incredulous to his claim. "What?", she scoffs, blowing a raspberry at her brother, "Come on, Dipper. This is our first summer away from home. It's my big chance to get an epic summer romance."

"I know”, Dipper replies, “But does this really mean you have to be attracted to every boy you see?”

Dipper isn’t really wrong about this. Since Mabel got her, she’s been constantly vying for the attention for every boy that came her into peripheral vision and most of them ended in either a.) the boys being more confused about what’s going on, b.) they would be uncomfortable by her presence, or c.) they would run away from her. Is she truly not self-aware about what she does that constantly, Dipper isn’t really sure. He really doesn’t understand why she’s doing this, it is the beginning of summer. She had time.

“Mock all you want, brother” Mabel pouts, not allowing her brother’s deter her from her goal “But I got a good feeling this summer. I wouldn’t be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through that door right now.” To her disgust and to her twin’s humor, the man of dreams turns out to be her grunkle, who is choking on his own burp.

“Hey, I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest.”, Stan demands, holding up Mystery Shack direction signs.

“Not it!”, the Pine twins reply quickly, expressing their reluctance to do something foolish.

“Uh, also not it.”, Soos, the Hispanic overweight handyman of the Mystery Shack, answers at the last minute. Stan stares at his employee with uninterested eyes. “I didn’t ask you, Soos”, he drones.

“I know’, Soos admits, as he pulls out a chocolate bar to eat. “And I’m okay with that.” Stan just facepalms in annoyance as no one is willing to take this task, so he turns to his other employee in hopes she would do it.

“Wendy!”, the boss calls out to his adolescent employee. “I need you to put signs in the forest for me!” Woefully, the young redhead is too invested in her magazine reading to do anything. “I mean, I would but” she grunts as she makes a pitiful attempt to reach, being too lazy to actually do it. “Too...far...to….reach...it”

“I’d fire all of you if I could.”, he grumbled, as nobody wanted to do this task. Well, it’s a good thing that you have family to help you out, right? The boss of the Mystery Shack to pick one of the Twins. “Okay, let’s make it……”, Stan starts to choose, swiping his finger between the Dipper and Mabel, “Eenie….meenie…..miney…..you.” His finger lands on Dipper, who is in disbelief at his grunkle’s choice.

“What? Grunkle Stan, whenever I’m in the woods, I feel like I’m being watched”, he explains, feeling unnerved doing this, much to his grunkle’s irritation.

“Ugh, this again”, Stan rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious.”, he insists, “Something is weird in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out ‘BEWARE’” He pulls up his sleeve to show his grunkle. Stan leans down and squints to read the marks.

“That says ‘BEWARB’’, Stan corrects his nephew, who scratches in either in embarrassment or because it itches a bit. He sighs and gets down on a knee, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Look, kid”, he explains to his nephew, “The whole "monsters in the forest" thing is just a local legend, drummed up by guys like me to sell merch to guys like that.” He points to a sweaty tourist, who was way too invested in a bobblehead in his hand. Having made his point across, he gives the signs to Dipper. “So quit being paranoid and put up the signs!”

__________________________________________________________________

Klunk-Klunk-Klunk!

Dipper couldn’t believe he’s doing this. Not only does his grunkle not believe what he was saying about the sensation that he got from being in this town, but he also forced him into putting up the signs up around the forest. Honestly, he just wants to get this done so he could head back because the forest is making him feel unnerved. He’s just finishing putting up another sign on a tree before grabs his minipack to put the remaining arrows and tools in before continuing to trek deeper in the eerie forest.

“Ugh, of all people, it had to be me going out to the scary parts of the forest”, he complains, as he looks across the various trees that sway with the wind, which doesn’t help in the slightest. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling, if anything, it started to slowly magnify. Honestly, what is up with this place? Why does it seem to be him who can feel this disturbance? Why was-

“Oof!”

He suddenly trips on something that scraped his knee as he lands face first. Dipper winces as he shifts onto his back as he looks at the scrape on his foot. “If I only had my first aid with me”, he complains to himself, forgetting the tool that might come in handy in case something like this happens. Just as he’s about to pull himself up, he notices a shining glare near his foot. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he starts digging with his hands to pull out the object and holds it up, with one hand on top, the other at the bottom.

“What is this?”, he asks himself, fascinated at the object he’s holding. Said object is silvery and smooth on the surface, it has the look of an oversized pearl if Dipper wants to make a comparison. It’s also very sturdy, due to him lightly knocking on the surface, and as far as he knows, there weren’t any lines anywhere it could be opened, same with having no buttons. Its size isn’t as big and as small to fit in both of his hands. “Hmm.”, he contemplates for a moment. Should he really be taking this with to the shack after this was done? He doesn’t know what this object is or what it could do, but at the same time, this can help figure what is up with this place. After a few minutes of hard thinking, he decides to carry the sphere under his armpit, continuing to do his work.

An hour passes, yet Dipper still had to put in a few more arrows. He hammers in an arrow in a tree, starting to feel exhausted from doing this. He stares at the sphere next to him, still in the same place he left before he looks at three more arrows. He started to get annoyed and remembers that he was still in the deeper parts of the forest. He looked up at the trees, which looked darker and more sinister. He grumbles before grabbing the sphere and the arrows, head to last trees. He puts down the sphere on the side of one of them, before heading to the first one, oblivious to the fact that he touched the sphere on the sides. The sphere starts to glow green on the points where his fingers touched it for a brief moment. It continues to do it until the sphere opens with a quiet hiss revealing something.

Dipper finished hammering the arrow in the tree. He walks over to the last tree, tired to the point that he wants to call it quits and head back. But he knows if he does that, Stan would chew him out. He sighs as he gets the hammer nail to put the arrow in place. “Ugh, Grunkle Stan. Nobody ever believes anything I say.”, he grumbles, clearly annoyed that his grunkle with everybody else not taking heed to his words and he hammered the arrow, hearing a clang in the process…..

…….

Wait.

“Huh?”, Dipper is stumped. He puts his ear near the tree trunk and taps his hammer again, hearing another clang. He wipes away some dust and finds a line that opens the trunk. It acts as a secret window, revealing a mechanical box with two control switches on the top. He tests one control switch but nothing happens. He does it again with the other one; he hears the ground shifting and Gompers the goat running away. “What the?”, he turns around to see a hole in the ground and in it was an old book. With the same curiosity he had for the sphere, he picks up the book and lays it on the ground, looking left and right for people to be around before opening it up. On the first page of the book, there is an eye-glass in it. He picks it up before putting it down and continues to flip through pages. Dipper goes to the next page to find some writing. “It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.”, Dipper reads aloud, from the page confused by this. “What is all this?”, he asks, confused by the content he’s finding and what they mean.

He keeps flipping through the pages seeing various creatures and phenomena. until he hits a particular page. He is intrigued by this page because of its content: On this page, is a picture of a being made entirely out of crystals, posing as if it is ready to battle something, with a blade of a right hand. But what catches his attention the most with this page is the name on top.

Petrosapian.

He stops at the next page, reading these words

TRUST NO ONE

“Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before he finds it. Remember: in Gravity Falls there is no one you can trust”, Dipper finishes reading, before closing the book and digesting its word. “No one you can trust.”

Hummmmmmmm-Hummmmmmm

“Hu-?” Dipper turns around at the noise, only to see something green and glowing charging at him. “AAAAHHHH!!!!!!” He puts his left arm up in defense before the object tackles him to the ground hard, dropping the book. He groans in pain before getting up, rubbing his head to ease the throbbing he felt and slowly blinks to bring his vision back.

He felt something on his left arm. More specifically, his wrist.

He looks down to see a watch. Once his memory came back, he starts screaming frantically, trying his hardest to pull this thing off, using sticks and rocks to remove it somehow. But it was all moot. After trying multiple times to get this thing off him, he does his best to calm himself down, breathing very slowly and sits down on the ground. He takes this moment to look at this….”watch” on his wrist. It is slim and sleek, with a green wristband, and the face of the dial is black and green hourglass. He brings the watch close to his face, inspecting it. It doesn’t look like a bomb or anything. Could it be a parasite or a virus? It is too early to say but he feels normal. No pain except the dull throbbing in his head and he didn’t feel sick at all. He starts pulling on the watch itself until it started to hurt him. So it confirms that whatever this thing is, it’s attached to him. Okay, that’s the easy part.

Now, what could this watch do?

Looking at the first time, he knows it can’t tell time. So what is it? He looks at the watch before getting the journal he found and looks through some pages. So far, there’s nothing in here that can explain to him what this thing is. He gets up, grabbing the journal and looks at the watch again, having no idea on what it can do. He looks at it slowly putting his finger to press the hourglass part of the watch. Maybe there was something he has to-

“HELLO!”

“AH!”, Dipper screamed almost dropping the journal and instantly hid his left arm behind his back, turning to look at his twin sister. “What’cha got there, some nerd things?”, Mabel inquires, curious as to what her brother has on him. This is making him nervous. How is he going to tell his sister about this?

“Uh, uh, it’s nothing!”, he nervously chuckles, hoping his half-attempted lie would steer him clear.

“Uh, uh it’s nothing!”, Mabel playfully imitating her brother, laughing at her brother’s fidgety response. “Come on, are you not gonna show me?”

“Uh..”, Dipper wants to make a retort but he can’t find one. Honestly, Mabel is the only one he can trust with something this big. Whenever there was something that was going on with, she was the first person he would go to, so why is he afraid to tell her something like this? He was pulled out from his thoughts as he turned around to see Gompers nibbling on the journal.

He turns to his sister, “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

__________________________________________________________________

As Mabel sits on the recliner with her brother explaining what he found in the journal, she keeps taking a few glances at Dipper’s new watch. She was curious as to where he got it because she really liked how cool it looked.

“It's amazing, Mabel!”, Dipper exclaims, finally proven right about the weirdness he felt in this town. “Grunkle Stan said I was being paranoid, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has this secret dark side.” He shows her various pages that he found. “And get this! After a certain point, the pages just stop, like the guy who was writing it... mysteriously disappeared.”

“Wow, that’s awesome”, she’s amazed by this, she really couldn’t believe there is something odd about this town. But now, she wants to know something else. “But where did you find the watch, bro? It looks nice.”

The air grows tense.

Dipper rubs his arm in nervousness, he really doesn’t know how to explain this to her: this obviously wasn’t a watch but he really doesn’t know what it is. And he really doesn’t wanna lie to her. He guesses he can figure it out later on. He inhales deeply before closing the journal looking at his sister.

“Mabel.”, he starts, already feeling uneasy as he holds up the ‘watch’. “When I was putting up the signs, I found this weird looking sphere. As I left next to put up the rest of the arrows, I was reading through the journal until this thing-”, He points to the ‘watch’. “-latched onto my wrist. I can guess that this was what was in the sphere the whole time.” Mabel takes in what he says and her eyes linger on the object latched to her brother’s wrist, curious as to what it is.

“Have you tried pulling it off?”, she asks.

“Yes”, he answers.

“Did you try pulling it off with a stick?”

“Yes.”

“Smash it with the rock?”

“Yes.”

“Did you try to-”

“Mabel, anything you’re about to say I tried”, he cuts off her questioning, “Whatever this thing is, it’s near indestructible. I smashed a hammer on it and it didn’t have a dent. That and, for whatever reason, it’s latched on deep in my skin. No matter what we do, this watch isn’t going to come off.” Mabel starts to understand what he’s saying, but she still looks at it. What could this thing do? She looks at her brother for a brief moment to see him looking deeply at this mysterious object, as it glows an ominous green…..

She tries to press it.

“Hey!”, Dipper is snapped out of his deep thought and quickly moves his left arm away from his sister. “Mabel, what are you doing?!” “Just wanted to see what it could do.”, she admits, looking at her brother’s astonished face.

“W-wha-? Mabel, we don’t know what this is!”, he protests, upset that his sister couldn’t understand the danger this watch can hold. “For all we know, this could be a bomb of sorts or a virus, or it could be a parasite, o-or-” He stops rambling and feels his sister holding his cheeks, with a pout etched on her face.

“Dipper, calm down.”, she tells her brother, “Breathe.” He does what she says, feeling his heart slow and his mind clear up. “Thanks, but this still doesn’t change what I said.”

“How do you know it’s a bomb? Or a virus?”, she questions, “Has it ticked? Do you feel different?”

“I….”, Dipper didn’t really have a response for that. As far as he knows, the watch didn’t do anything aside from glow when it latched onto him. His body feels normal and the object didn’t give off any signs that it was gonna blow up. His sister’s right.

Huh.

“I guess you’re right.”, he admits, staring at the watch, “But as of right now, let’s not touch it or do anything with it...just to be safe. And I really think we should keep this to ourselves. I don’t how Grinkle Stan would react to something like this.”

“Okay”, she agrees, respecting his decision, to which her brother thanks her. Suddenly, the doorbell rings, making Dipper jump. “Huh? Who’s that?”, he asks, perturbed to who’s ringing the doorbell.

“Well, time to spill the beans.’, she confesses as she pushes a literal can of beans. “Boop. Beans. This girl's got a date! Woot woot!” She falls back on the recliner, giggling at the fact that she finally might have a chance at a summer romance. Dipper just looks at her like she’s grown a second head. How was she able to get a date so quickly, let alone actually find the boy that would agree to go on one?

“Let me get this straight”, Dipper recollects, repeating himself just in case he missed something, “In the hour I was gone, you already found a boyfriend?” He’s stumped when it comes to finding a logical explanation for this. There’s no possible way she was able to get a boyfriend like this. Something is off.

“What can I say, Dipper?”, Mabel asks rhetorically, pulling her arms into the shirt to flail her sleeves, “I guess I'm just IRRESISTIBLLLLE!” The doorbell rings again, twice.

“Oh, coming!”, she runs to the door.

He sighs as his sister leaves, shaking his head at the idea of her getting a boyfriend in a day, an hour even. He sits on the recliner, reading the journal. He really is amazed by what he’s finding in the journal different monsters, various items, rare phenomena, heck, even aliens like the crystal man he found. But as he was enamored by the journal, he takes a moment to look at the watch on his wrist. Honestly, he wants to know more about it but right, he doesn’t wanna risk it. Maybe some other time, he’ll try to figure out what it can-

“What'cha reading there, slick?”

Dipper jumps before hiding the journal. “Oh, nothing”, he lies, trying to keep the journal hidden from his grunkle and immediately picks up a magazine. “I was just catching up on, uh….Gold Chains For Old Men Magazine?”

“That’s a good issue.” Stan guarantees, taking a sip from soda before looking at his nephew’s left wrist. “Where’d you get the watch?”

Dipper looks at the watch on his hand before looking at his grunkle. “Oh, uh, I found outside. I cleaned it off and polished it to make it look better than it did before.” That was a good enough lie, right?

Stan seems to buy it. “Hmm. Looks good.”

“Hey, family!” Dipper and Stan turn to look at Mabel and a stranger in a black hoodie.

“Say hello to my new boyfriend!”, she introduces her date as he turns around to be a brunette in a hoodie with a mysterious red liquid on his, giving a casual “S’up?”

“Hey….”, Dipper greets, already feeling suspicious about this boy.

“How’s it hanging?”, Stan salutes with a finger pistol.

“We met in the cemetery. He’s really deep.”, Mabel clarifies, as she starts to feel up his bicep, “Oh, got a little muscle there.” She’s getting flustered by how strong he must be. Dipper doesn’t like this guy.

“What’s your name?”, Dipper inquires, ready to know more about this guy.

“Uh…”, the stranger hesitates, “Normal….MAN!”

“He means Norman’, Mabels says dreamily, hugging his arm.

Dipper looks at the red liquid on his face. “Are you bleeding, Norman?”

Norman looks at the red substance before looking at Dipper defensively, “It’s jam.” Mabel gasped at this. “I love jam!”, she cries out, swishing her hand between her and her boyfriend. “Look. At. This.”

“So, you wanna hold hands...or whatever?”, Norman suggests, delighting Mabel to no end. “Oh, oh, my goodness”, she giggles, clearly excited at the prospect of holding hands as she runs outside. “Don’t wait up!” Norman finger pistols Dipper and Stan before smacking his head on the wall several and leaving out. Dipper didn’t like this at all. This guy comes out of nowhere and asks Mabel out on a date but he looked suspicious.

There’s something off about Norman and Dipper is gonna find out what.

__________________________________________________________________

He spent a large amount of time within the attic to find out what Norman is. So far, he’s got nothing at hand to give any inkling as what he truly is and what his motive maybe. He keeps flipping through pages until he finds something that may help him.

“Known for their pale skin and bad attitudes these creatures are often mistaken for... teenagers?! Beware Gravity Falls's nefarious...” Dipper reads aloud, only to pause in fear of the page before him, showing a hooded undead figure. This means that Norman is a….

“ZOMBIE!”

__________________________________________________________________

Stan pauses what he’s doing in the bathroom to look in the mirror. “Somebody say "crombie"? What is that, crombie?”, Stan asks himself, confused by what he’s saying. “That's not even a word. You're losing your mind.” He just finished washing his hands, afterwards.

__________________________________________________________________

Dipper has to calm down. He has to calm down or else, he’s going to panic. And he doesn’t want that, so he breathes slowly and turns to look out the window to see his sister, Mabel sitting on a log outside, swinging her legs…..and Norman limping towards her, his hands outstretched and ready to eat her. “Oh, no! Mabel, watch out!”, Dipper calls out to his sister, scared for her safety. Norman inches closer towards her and wrapped his hands behind her neck……

Only to put on a necklace of daisies. Mabel gasps, at the sweet gesture and is smiling at him.

Dipper sighs in relief before laying down on the windowsill, thinking. Was he wrong for assuming the worst out of Norman? As far as he knows, he hasn’t done anything to harm her. But at the same time, his behavior doesn’t seem to be normal at all. Dipper grumbles as he puts his hands on his. “Is my sister really dating a zombie, or am I just going nuts?”, he asks himself, not even sure if he had the answer.

“It's a dilemma, to be sure.”

Dipper jumps up from his spot to see Soos putting up a lightbulb. Seriously, how many people are gonna keep sneaking up on him like this? He's surprised he hasn't got a heart attack.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you talkin’ aloud to yourself in this empty room”, Soos clarifies, pulling out the screwdriver in his tool belt. “Soos, you’ve seen Mabel’s boyfriend, right?”, Dipper hesitates, trying to get a better answer from the handyman of the Mystery Shack. “He’s gotta be a zombie, right?”

“Hmm’, Soos thinks for a minute, twisting in the bulb. “How many brains didja see the guy eat?”

Dipper looks at Soos, before looking down embarrassed. “Zero.”

“Look, dude, I believe you.”, Soos reasons. Like Dipper, he has suspicion on what’s really going on in this town. “I’m always noticing weird stuff in this town. Like the mailman? I’m pretty sure he’s a werewolf, but you gotta have evidence. Otherwise, people will think you’re a major league cuckoo clock.” Dipper nods, understanding that he needs evidence in order to convince his sister that Norman isn’t what seems.

“As always, Soos, you’re right.”, Dipper acknowledges.

“My wisdom is both a blessing and curse.”, Soos replies, solemnly.

“SOOS! The portable toilets are clogged again!”

“I am needed elsewhere.”, Soos backs out from where he came. Dipper looks at the camera next to the journal. Looks like he’s got work to do.

__________________________________________________________________

Like Soos advised, Dipper takes as much evidence as he can between Mabel and Norman. He heads to his and Mabel’s room, replaying the recorded material he had as said sister is brushing her hair. So far, Norman always seemed to stumble, like his body lacks any motor control and his sense of balance, like when he’s walking or when he failed to catch the frisbee Mabel throws at him. And when they’re running in a grassy field, he seemed to have the behavior of pulling himself out of a grave like an undead being. He also has no respect for using doors properly so that’s a clue also.

“Mabel, we’ve got to talk about Norman”, Dipper insists, really wanting her to listen to the evidence he has.

“Isn’t he the best?”, she asks wistfully, “Check out this big smooch mark he gave me!” She turns face to show a giant red cheek mark, making Dipper scream in horror. She laughs at his response.

“Gullible. It was an accident I had with the leaf blower.”, Mabel clarifies, remembering how she was trying to do kissing practice with it but instead had the machine stuck to her face. “That was fun”

“Mabel, listen to me. I’m telling you there’s Norman isn’t what he seems.”, Dipper explains, showing the journal to emphasize his point, to which his sister gasps.

“You think he could be a vampire”, she asks, enjoying the idea that her boyfriend is a handsome vampire. “That would be awesome!

“Guess again, sister….SHA-BAM!”, Dipper exclaims, opening a page in his journal making Mabel scream. Dipper checks the journal to realize he was on the page of gnomes. “Oh, sorry, wrong page...Sha-bam!” He shows her the page of the undead, making his sister roll her eyes.

“Ugh, a zombie? That’s not funny, Dipper.”, Mabel doesn’t appreciate the revelation, thinking her brother is trolling her.

“I’m not joking, Mabel!”, Dipper persists, not allowing Mabel’s disbelief sway him in the slightest. “It all adds up: the bleeding, the limp. He never blinks! Have you noticed that?”

“Maybe he’s blinking when you’re blinking.”, Mabel suggests, not really getting why her brother is getting paranoid about this.

“Mabel, have you forgotten what the journal said about Gravity Falls?”, Dipper reminds her, “Trust no one….”

“Well, what about me, huh? Why can’t you trust me?”, she asks, putting on her star earrings, “Beep. Bop.”

“Mabel!”, Dipper grabs his sister, shaking her in the hopes that she'll come to her senses, “He’s going to eat your brain!” Okay, Mabel has had enough of her brother’s paranoia. She firmly removes her brother’s hands from her shoulders, pushing him away.

“Dipper, listen to me.”, her voice being firm when she addresses Dipper, refusing to let him voice his concerns, “Norman and I are going out on a date. And I’m going to be ADORABLE”-she points her firmly on her brother’s chest-“And he’s going to be DREAMY” She does it again as she continues walking up to as he keeps walking until he walks out the room. “And I’m not gonna let you ruin it with your crazy CONSPIRACIES!” She slams her, leaving Dipper speechless. He took a moment to look at it from Mabel’s perspective: This is her chance at getting a date and she may not be able get another. But does this mean he’s wrong about Norman? Is he right? What is he missing?

He just sighs in defeat. “What am I gonna do?”

__________________________________________________________________

Dipper keeps looking through the videos but not with the determination he had earlier, no. He had the expression of forlorn permeate on his face. Maybe he is looking too deep into this and just allowed his paranoia to cloud his judgement. Maybe Norman is just eccentric. Maybe he just wants to look for love like Mabel does. And he is getting in their way.

The clock dings 5;00 and the doorbell rings.

“Coming!” Dipper hears Mabel shouts, looking up from the camera to look at his sister running downstairs, fixing her sweater and making herself presentable before opening the door beau. He hears Norman saying how shiny her sweater is before he sees them leaving the house and head out to the forest.

Dipper watches the video he collected from spying Mabel and her date. “Soos was right. I don’t have any real evidence.”, Dipper laments, realizing his mistake. He watches as the video shows Mabel teaching Norman hopscotch, only to fall over. He unconsciously fast forwards to Mabel and Norman with Norman's arm around Mabel. “I guess I can be kind of paranoid sometimes and— Wait, WHAT?!” Dipper watches Norman's hand fall off, giving a glance around reattaching it. He rewinds the tape and watches it again, just to be sure he wasn’t being crazy, which only confirmed what he saw. Shocked right now, he screams and accidentally tips the chair backwards.

“I was right! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!”, Dipper freaks out, running outside to get his grunkle, “Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Stan!” He keeps trying to get his grunkle’s attention, but he’s too focused on showing tourists one of his attractions, so he looks around to see the mystery cart. He runs towards to see Wendy taking the key out of the ignition.

“Wendy! Wendy! Wendy! I need to borrow the golf cart so I can save my sister from a zombie!”, Dipper explains, hysterical at this point, to which she gives him the keys before heading off. “Try not to hit any pedestrians.” Dipper gets in the cart and starts the ignition. But before he can drive off, he sees Soos waiting for him.

Soos gives him a shovel. “This is for the zombies.” Dipper takes the shovel. “Thanks.” Just as he’s about to leave again, Soos gives him a bat. “And this is in case you find a pinata.”

“Uh...Thanks?”, Dipper takes the bat, weirded out before driving off.

“Better safe than sorry!” Dipper hears Soos yell out, but he hardly focuses on it as he only cares about saving his sister.

Who knows what could be happening to her right now?

__________________________________________________________________

As Mabel and Norman stand in the forest by themselves, he turns away from her nervously, like he was hiding a dark truth.

“Uh, Mabel”, Norman hesitates, holding his zipper, “Now that we’ve gotten to know each other, there’s…” he exhales “...there’s something I should tell you.” The passes by as the tensity rises in the area.

“Oh, Norman, you can tell me anything!”, Mabel says in mock concern. Please be a vampire, please be a vampire!, she thinks, excited by the prospect that her boyfriend might be what she always desired.

"All right, just... just don’t freak out, okay?", he insists, making sure she doesn't get appalled by what's going to happen. "Just... just keep an open mind, be cool! He unzips his coat and throws it off and what Mabel sees surprises her. Underneath, the coat…..

Are five gnomes standing on top of each other.

“Is this weird? Is this too weird?”, the top gnome asks, concerned, “Do you need to sit down?” Mabel just stands there with her mouth hung open, completely in shock that her date is something else entirely than what she expected.

“R-r-right, I’ll explain. So! We’re gnomes.”, the gnome higher up makes clear, “First off. Get that one outta the way.” His response doesn’t really help as Mabel still fails to process what is transpiring in front of her.

“I’m Jeff”, the top gnome introduces himself before introducing his other colleagues, “And here we have Carson, Steve, Jason and... I’m sorry, I always forget your name.”

“Shmebulock!”, the last gnome answers.

“ Yes!”, Jeff snaps his fingers before looking at the dumbfounded Mabel, “Anyways, long story short, us gnomes have been lookin' for a new queen! Right, guys?” To which, the other gnomes started to chant “Queen! Queen!”, really wanting to have her as their royal subject.

“So what do you say?”, Jeff asks her, before tapping his foot to cause the collective to make the body kneel and hold out an engagement ring. “Will you join us in holy matri-gnomey? Matri...matri-mo-ny! Blah! Can’t talk today!”

Mabel is honestly dumbfounded by what is happening right now. She honestly never expected that her date would end up like this and now, it ends up like this: her being in the middle of the forest with her boyfriend, who was not human, not a vampire…..but a bunch of gnomes asking about for her hand in marriage. She thinks it would be better to let them off easy.

“Look... I'm sorry, guys.”, Mabel apologised, feeling awkward in explaining how she feels about the situation, “You're really sweet, but, I'm a girl, and you're gnomes, and it's like, ‘what?’ Yikes…” Mabel holds her arm, just explaining makes her feel uncomfortable.

“We understand.”, Jeff accepts sadly, seemingly understanding that Mabel didn’t want this “We'll never forget you, Mabel.” The gnomes look melancholy, Mabel smiles appreciating their decision. Maybe they weren’t so bad-

“Because we're gonna kidnap you.”

“Huh?”, Mabel takes double before Jeff leaps at her, screeching to, which she screams in terror.

__________________________________________________________________

Dipper drives as fast as he can to get to his sister and so far, he couldn’t find her. Where could she be? Regardless of what happens, he still had to find her no matter what happens.

"Mabel, where are you?!", Dipper calls out. She's gotta be close, right?

"Help!", he hears his sister calling for help and heads to the sound of her voice, driving near a path that leads downwards. He stops the cart to grab the shovel and charges to the source of Mabel’s cries for help, leading him witnessing her being surrounded by gnomes as she punches some them away.

Wait…..she wasn’t getting attacked by a zombie but rather gnomes?

“What the heck is going on here?!”, Dipper demands to which a gnome passes by him hissing.

“Dipper! Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they’re total jerks!”, Mabel explains to him while trying to keep the gnomes away from here before a starts pulling on her hair. “Hair! Hair! Hair!”

“Gnomes? Huh, I was way off.”, Dipper feels awkward that he got the wrong creature at this moment. He takes the journal out of his vest and reads the relevant page. "Gnomes: little men of the Gravity Falls Forest. Weaknesses: unknown.". No weakness? That might be a problem. When Dipper lowers the book, he sees that the gnomes have managed to tie Mabel to the ground.

“Aw, come on!”, Mabel complains, not liking her situation at all. This makes Dipper walk towards Jeff with the shovel at hand.

“Hey! Let go of my sister!”, Dipper commanded, holding the shovel close

“Oh! Ha ha, hey there!”, Jeff greets, weakly. “Um, you know, this is all really just a big misunderstanding. You see, your sister's not in danger. She's just marrying all one thousand of us and becoming our gnome queen for all eternity!” He turns to the ensnared Mabel. “Isn't that right, honey?”

“You guys are buttfaces!”, Mabel protests, only for a gnome to cover her mouth.

“Give her back right now, or else!, Dipper threatens, pointing the shovel at Jeff.

“You think you can stop us, boy?”, the gnomes warns, narrowing his eyes. “You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the—ah!” Dipper scoops him up and tosses him aside before he uses the shovel to cut Mabel free, to which she kicked the gnomes away and runs with her brother to the cart before driving off.

Jeff gets up, looking miffed.

“You've messed with the wrong creatures, boy! Gnomes of the forest: ASSEMBLE!”

__________________________________________________________________

The cart drives as fast as it can across the forest. So far, it seems as if they managed to get away from the little men of the forest.

“Hurry, before they come after us!”, Mabel begs her brother to speed up, worried that the gnomes will come after them. Dipper, on the other hand, was unapprehensive about that notion.

“Mabel, I wouldn't worry about it. See their little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”, Dipper chuckles, finding the idea that the gnomes catching up to them impossible and hilarious.

He is wrong on both fronts.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump!

Dipper stops the cart and turns around to see a giant gnome, comprised of every gnome found in the forest. It roared in absolute fury.

“Dipper, step on it!”, Mabel commands her brother. Dipper wastes no time and steps on the gas pedal. The cart drives as fast as it can before the Gnome Giant smashes its fist on the ground, causing some gnomes to fall the formation only to get back in. The giant gives chase and follows them.

“Give us back our queen”, Jeff shouts from atop the Gnome Giant, controlling like a robot.

“It’s getting closer”, Mabel shouts, making Dipper wish the cart can go faster than it already can. The Gnome Giant starts to shoot out gnomes at the cart, to which they start biting at, along with attacking Dipper and Mabel. Mabel punches off a gnome hanging on the side while Dipper slams Schmebulock’s face on the wheel, making him fall out. Dipper sighs in relief, only for another gnome that jumps out of the cart to scratch him.

“I’ll save you, Dipper!”, Mabel declares, punching the gnome while also hitting her twin brother’s face until it falls out with his hat.

“Thanks, Mabel”, Dipper expresses his gratitude despite feeling dazed from the punches.

“Don’t mention it”, Mabel returns it, happy to help.

The Gnome Giant roars in indignation. To slow down the cart, it pulls out a giant tree and throws akin to a javelin at the runaway vehicle.

“Lookout!”, Mabel points to the tree that’s flying through the air before crashing, blocking their path. Dipper and Mabel scream as he swerves the the avoid crashing into the tree but only causes the cart to crash onto the ground near the Mystery Shack. Dipper and Mabel themselves out the totaled cart only to see the Gnome Giant towering over them.

“Stay back, man!”, Dipper warns, showing fear towards the hulking beast before grabbing a shovel and tosses it, only for the Gnome Giant to crush it, the scared Pine Twins hold each other close.

“Where’s Stan?”, Dipper asks

__________________________________________________________________

“Behold!”, Stan shows a swirly pattern on a stick to the tourists, “The world's most distracting object!”

“Oooh”

“Just try to look away, you can't!”, Stan chuckles as he pulls the string making it spin. Eventually, everyone, Stan included, becomes distracted by the object. “I can't even remember what I was talking about.”

__________________________________________________________________

“This has gone far enough kids. We’re done playing games.”, Jeff declares, controlling the Gnome Giant into getting closer to the Dipper and Mabel. The Giant gets close enough to snatch her into its giant hand. “Mabel, it’s time for you to come back with us. This’ll be much easier if you accept being our queen.”

“Ah! Dipper!”, Mabel cries out, trying to break free from it’s hand, only to fail to do so once it starts to leave.

“Mabel!”, Dipper exclaims as he tries to catch up to the “Let go of my sister!” The giant just keeps walking away, blatantly ignoring to his pleas of both Pine Twins. Dipper pulls out his journal to see if there’s something he missed on the gnomes, but finds nothing. He tries again, again, and again. Only to find nothing. His sister cries for help ever present in his ears. What can he do? There’s nothing he has on hand that can help him.

Except…..

Dipper looks at the mysterious watch and back at the Gnome Giant as it keeps walking away, having his sister in it’s hand as she kept trying to escape while also calling out to her brother. He looks back at the watch with a mix of nervousness and determination before pressing the hourglass symbol on it, making the watch spring up (much to his surprise) showing a hologram of something. Something he found in the journal earlier.

The crystal being. The Petrosapian,

Dipper hesitates before pressing the hourglass symbol down.

In a massive glow of green light, getting the Gnome Giant’s attention, Dipper’s entire anatomy starts to change. His body starts to harden as cyan crystals start to cover him entirely. He feels himself starting to get stronger. Stronger than he’s ever felt before and he started to become taller than he was previously. Dipper’s physiology is exponentially nonidentical: He’s 7 feet tall with his body, no longer skin and bones, entirely composed of cyan-colored diamond with a darkish blue jumpsuit-like uniform with a red-orange stripe down the center, black boots, two sharp crystal shards on his back with a sharp head and yellow eye And to top it off, there's an hourglass symbol on the center of his chest. And to top it off, there’s an hourglass symbol on the center of his chest.

Mabel is shocked to see what brother turned into. “D-Dipper?”

The Gnome Giant was stumped. “What the? He can turn into a walking chandelier?”, Jeff asks, confused as to what just happened. Unfortunately for him and the rest of the gnomes, this “walking chandelier” is not interested in answering questions.

Dipper’s yellow eyes go to his sister before glaring at the colossal conglomerate of gnomes. He speaks, despite being full of bass, with determination and anger, “I’m going to say this once: Give me back my sister. Or you’re gonna regret it.” Mabel is blown back by how tough her brother sounds.

The Gnome Giant, on the other hand, laughs. This walking chandelier is supposed to intimidate it? Jeff wipes a tear, laughing. “Yeah, right! There’s a thousand of us and only one of you. What are you gonna do? Reflect some light to make yourself shinier? Pull some of yourself off to trade for your sister?”

Dipper’s eyes narrow. “No.”, he simply answers, “I’m gonna do this.” He pushes his left arm out and shoots speeding crystals at the Gnome Giant, as it roars in pain. He runs forward, continuing to shoot at the colossal Gnome while turning his right hand into a blade and cuts the beast's left leg, breaking off some of the beast’s formation. The Gnome Giant struggles to keep itself together, while at the same time, blocking the crystals as Dipper keeps shooting at it. It tries to move away but sees that Dipper is now punching at its leg, causing some of the gnomes to fall out.

"Hey! Stop doing that!", Jeff yells out, trying to make sure Mabel stays in one hand while trying to crush this annoying gem with the other, who keeps rolling out the way and avoids getting stomped on, smashed with the other hand, and takes the shooting gnomes without even flinching.

I gotta find a way to get Mabel free, Dipper thinks as he continues to avoid all of the Giant Gnome's attacks while also continuing to attack the on the leg he damaged. There has to be a weak spot in the formation. If I can’t find one, I'll make one. With a boost in adrenaline, Dipper delivers a powerful hook to the left leg, causing the it to explode and by extension, the gnomes to fly off in different directions. The Gnome Giant falls on a knee, holding itself up with a hand that didn’t have Mabel in it. Dipper takes advantage of this and plants both hands on the ground, causing a giant diamond piller to uppercut the giant’s chin, causing the behemoth to fall to the ground letting Mabel go in the process.

“AH!”, Mabel screams as she keeps falling until she feels a pair of crystal hands catch her. She looks to see Dipper caught her by summoning a pillar underneath him. The pillar goes back into the ground and Dipper puts her down. “You ok?”, he asks her sister, wanting to make sure she’s alright.

“Yeah.”, Mabel nods, impressed by what her brother is and what he can do. “At least we know what that watch can do.”

Dipper looks at his diamond hands and toward the hourglass symbol on his chest. “Yeah, at least we know.” Before Dipper can ask himself what this means for him, a roar is heard, causing the crystalized Pine and his twin sister to see the Giant Gnome, fully reformed and charging at them, or specifically, the transformed Dipper. He grits his teeth before pushing both hands out, shooting out speeding crystals at the behemoth’s face, making it slow down and cover it. “Mabel, get back inside!”

“But what about you?!”, Mabel doesn’t want to leave her brother behind, even if he is a rock monster.

Dipper turns toward his sister, not relenting in his barrage. “I’ll be fine! Just get outta here before-URK!!” Dipper isn’t paying attention, until the Giant Gnome comes in and punt kicks Dipper into a couple of trees.

“Dipper!”, Mabel shouts, appalled that her brother got sent flying from that attack.

“You know, we were going to let off easy, kid”, Jeff explains, his aggravation reaching its peak. “But you have been a thorn in us gnomes’ side one too many times! It’s time for you to-Ah!” Jeff is interrupted as diamond shard whizzes past him, leaving a scratch on his face. This gives Dipper the opportunity to charge at the behemoth and smash his hands, which are now spiked balls, on the right leg.

But the opportunity never came. The Gnome Giant is prepared and grabs him before smashing him into the ground hard to leave a crater. He tries to break free, only to be punched into the ground and gets more stuck.

“Alright, that’s it! It’s time for this walking chandelier to be shattered!”, Jeff growls, controlling the conglomerate of gnomes into getting ready to punch Dipper into smithereens.

“Stop!” Giant Gnome stops what it’s doing to see Mabel standing in front of his transformed brother. She can’t take her brother getting beat up because of her mistake.

“Alright, Mabel! It’s time to make a choice: Either be our queen or watch your brother get crushed!”, Jeff makes her choose, having enough of these obstacles preventing him and his gnomes from having their queen. Mabel looks at the giant beast then her brother, who is struggling to get himself free, only for the hourglass symbol on his chest to beep, blinking red before he turns back to normal. She realizes what she needs to do.

“I’ll do it.”, Mabel hangs her head in defeat, she accepts her fate. Dipper looks at his sister in shock.

“Mabel, what are you doing?! Are you crazy?!”, Dipper exclaims in confusion and dismay. Why is she doing this? Mabel looks at her brother with a forlorn look on her face.

“Dipper. Trust me.”, she simply responds. Jeff takes a 180 and is ecstatic by her decision.

“Hot dog!”, Jeff cheers. “Help me down there, Jason!” He climbs down from his gnome brothers and approaches Mabel, holding out a diamond ring. “Eh? Eh?” Mabel smiles and holds her hand out, to which he puts the ring on it. “Bada-bing, bada-bam! Now let's get you back into the forest, honey!” He walks away with a pep in his step.

“You may now kiss the bride!”, she announces, making Jeff stop and turn around.

“Well, don't mind if I do.”, he says, before using mouth spray, smiling at his bride-to-be, who gave one of her and eyes fluttering. They lean in to kiss, only then for Mabel to take out a leaf blower and aim it at the gnome.

“Ah! Hey, hey, wait a minute!”, Jeff is shocked by this. He gets sucked up in the leaf blower “Whoa, whoa! Wh-what's goin' on?!” Jeff struggles but just gets more sucked into the leaf-blower halfway.

“That's for lying to me!”, Mabel yells, angry at the little man. She increases the sucking power. “THAT'S for breaking my heart!”

“Ow! My face!”, Jeff groans, painfully as he slowly gets sucked in further.

And THIS is for messing with my brother!”, Mabel declares aiming the leaf blower to the immobile Gnome Giant, before looking at Dipper. “Wanna do the honors?”

Dipper smiles at her. “On three!”

“One, two, three!”, they chant in unison as they blast Jeff towards the gnome monster, causing all the gnomes to fly out in multiple directions. After threatening them with the leaf blower, they all retreat within the forest. As they all left, Mabel looks at her brother remorsefully.

“Hey, Dipper? I, um...I'm sorry for ignoring your advice.”, Mabel apologizes, feeling sorry for not listening to her when she had the chance. ,“You really were just looking out for me.”

“Oh, don't be like that. You saved our butts back there.”, he encourages her.

“I guess I'm just sad that my first boyfriend turned out to be a bunch of gnomes.”, she says.

“Look on the bright side.”, Dipper proposes “Maybe the next one will be a vampire!”

“Oh, you're just saying that!”, Mabel smiles, valuing her brother’s gesture.

“Awkward sibling hug?”, Dipper asks, his arms out. Mabel smiles and accepts it. “Awkward sibling hug.”

“Pat-pat” “Pat-pat”

__________________________________________________________________

Stan is counting money when he sees the Pine Twins walk in, fatigue and untidiness .

“Sheesh. You guys got hit by a bus or something?”, he laughs at the kids, who scowl at him before walking away. Seeing them like this, he decides to give them something to cheer them up.

“Hey.”, Stan calls out to them, getting their attention, “Wouldn't you know it? Um, I accidentally overstocked some inventory, so, uh... how's about each of you take one item from the gift shop? On the house, y'know?”

“Really?”, Mabel asks, happy at getting something.

“What’s the catch”, Dipper questions, suspicious as he crosses his arms.

“The catch is do it before I changed my mind.”, Stan grumbles, really just wanting to do this simple gesture. Dipper and Mabel look across for different items on the shelves and grab what they wanted.

Picks up a cap with a pine tree on it and puts it on, looking in the mirror impressed. “”

“And I will have a…..”, Mabel says before grabbing something out the box. “Grappling Hook!”

Stan and Dipper look perplexed.

“Wouldn’t you want a doll or something”, Stan asks, not really why she wants the item picked. Mabel just shoots the grappling hook into the air, knocking down a shelf in the process. “Grappling Hook!”

“Fair enough”, Stan shrugs.

As Dipper sits in his bed reading the journal while his sister keeps jumping on hers, he starts to think about what happened earlier in the day. The journal said to not trust anyone but thanks to his sister, he would probably be dead despite turning into that crystal being. Speaking of the crystal being, he wonders what the watch can do and how it can do it? So far, he can assume the watch can do more than give him just one transformation but how many are there? Did the watch have aliens that can be found in the journal like the Petrosapian? These were another addition of questions he has for the town of Gravity Falls. Dipper takes a look at his sister using her grappling hook with glee to catch a stuffed animal. She really is the only one he can trust with the secrets they have.

And he has no problem with it.

“Hey, Mabel. Can you get the light.”, Dipper asks.

“On it!”, she replies, aiming and shooting the grappling hook on the lamp, breaking it. “It works!” The Pine Twins get a laugh before heading to sleep.

For these two, the mysteries and strangeness in this town were only beginning.

#omni falls #chapters #dipper #mabel #stan #soos #wendy

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hqwkeyes · 5 years

Text

Happy Birthday

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Word Count: 1,698

Warning(s): mentions of alcohol

Summary: Tony throws a birthday party for himself at the tower.

A/N: I am so sorry that this took so long. I meant to have it up on Tony’s actual birthday but I got very busy and then I was gone for a week. It’s not my favorite thing I’ve written, but I think it’s cute. I also didn’t proofread this because I’m incredibly tired right now. I hope you all enjoy it nevertheless!

It’s an annual tradition at this point. Every year on May 29th, Tony holds the biggest blowout at the tower in honor of... well, himself.

You hear someone call you by your last name and look up.

“I said ‘are you ready for my big birthday bash tonight?’” Tony asks. He holds back a giddy smile, but his eyes give away his excitement.

“Yeah, Stark. I’m ready to party. I have my dress picked out and everything,” It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know. You have enough time to pick out something to wear and get ready anyway. “I’ll be heading up to Wanda’s room in a few to get ready with her and Nat.”

“Great, see you tonight then! And don’t forget my gift.” You know his final comment is a joke even before he shoots you a wink, his grin blossoming on his lips. You nod with a small smile and spin on your heel before making your way to the elevator, deciding to make a pit stop at your room before heading to Wanda’s.

Tony always tells everyone not to bother with getting him gifts—he knows that he’s hard to shop for. Some people on the team still buy him things, like the travel mug that Natasha had custom made for him or the Iron Man bobblehead action figure that Rhodey gifted him last year. None of the other guests bring anything, aside from the occasional bottle of expensive liquor. What do you buy for a man who has everything, anyway?

The answer is that you don’t buy anything—you make it.

After an accident during a mission about a year or so ago, you had a lot of free time while recovering and decided to take up knitting. For your mother’s last birthday, you decided to test out the new technique you learned: hand knitting. You had been showing Steve the gift before shipping it to your mom when Tony came in. He was surprisingly interested in it, talking about how comfortable it looked and how he would steal it if it weren’t a gift. Granted, he was mildly hungover, but you appreciated his interest in it nevertheless. Which is why you decided to hand knit him a blanket of his own. You’ve learned another new technique or two since knitting your mother’s blanket, allowing you to add patterns into the mix. You would give it to him after the party if he wasn’t intoxicated by then.

You swiftly make your way down the hall and into your room to put the finishing touches on his gift, which is already set in a cute little box. All that is left to do is wrap the box in the ‘happy birthday’ wrapping paper you bought the other day and put the red-and-gold ribbon on it. You work quickly, snipping away at the paper in an even line, folding the edges against the box, and taping down the corners before wrapping the satin ribbon around the center and finishing it off with a neat bow on top. Tucking the present safely beneath your bed, you sigh contentedly before nearly sprinting to Wanda’s bedroom.

The girls are in there already with all of their outfits, makeup, and hair products set out on the bed. Wanda is sitting at her vanity, perfecting her eyeliner as Natasha tries on a dress in the bathroom.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to finish off Tony’s gift real quick on the way here,’ you explain, but Wanda just waves a hand toward the bed.

“Pick out an outfit while you tell me what you bought him.”

“I made him a blanket,” you say with a shrug as you brush your fingers over the silky material of a deep red dress, deciding to try it on.

“You made it?” Natasha asks as she emerges from the bathroom in a black dress that falls a few inches above her knees. You already know she’ll be wearing that dress tonight, even if she tries on eight other dresses beforehand. Black is definitely her color.

You take the red dress in your hands and make your way into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked so you can still make easy conversation without shouting.

“Yeah, I made it. You know how I picked up knitting after that injury a while back? Figured I’d put it to good use.” You say as you swiftly strip out of your clothes and slip the smooth material of the dress over your skin. One failed attempt at tugging the zipper up and you’re waltzing back into the bedroom for some assistance.

“That’s sweet of you. How long did it take?” Wanda asks as she zips up the dress for you, having finished with her makeup, which accents the velvet, green jumpsuit she had chosen before you arrived.

“I took a few hours out each day over the past two weeks to make it. It was actually a lot of fun to do.”

“I’m sure he’ll love it then,” says Nat as she hands you a pair of shoes to go with the dress before checking herself out in the mirror.

“I hope he does,” you say, catching your lower lip between your teeth—it’s a nervous habit of yours.

An hour or so later, Natasha has ultimately chosen the black dress and you stuck with the red one. Loose curls fall below her neck, and she applies a bold red lipstick to complete the look. Wanda’s hair is pin-straight, coming down to the middle of her back, and her nude lip gloss accents her outfit perfectly. You all look stunning—dressed to kill, although you hope you won’t have to fight anyone tonight.

The three of you make your way down to the party, which has only just started but is already teeming with music, guests, and booze. You are greeted by wealthy guests as you pass by, trying to find your fellow Avengers among the crowd. Finally, you spot Sam and Bucky standing near the bar in the back.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Sam says in the flirty tone he typically has with you.

“Hey, Wilson. You look great!”

“Why thank you.”

“You look great too, Buck—as always,” you comment as you hug the super soldier.

“Thanks. You look beautiful—you all do,” he says with a little laugh and a nod toward Natasha and Wanda, earning a chorus of thank you’s.

The five of you chat for a little while before Natasha snatches Steve away from his conversation with Thor, and Vision whisks Wanda off for a dance.

“So where’s the man of the hour?” you ask the remaining two.

“I actually have no idea. He already did his big entrance before you guys showed up, but I haven’t seen him since,” Bucky informs you, and you politely excuse yourself to go find him, grabbing a drink on your way.

After about twenty minutes of searching and scanning the party, while also making casual small talk with those who briefly stopped you, you decide to go up to the roof for a breath of fresh air. Much to your surprise, it is there that you find the man you’ve been looking for.

“Hey, Iron Man,” you joke as you come up from behind him. He startles slightly, stepping back from the railing. “What are you doing up here when there’s a whole party for you going on downstairs?”

“It was a bit much. I went a little overboard with it all,” he confesses.

“Tony Stark going overboard with something? Are you feeling okay?”

“I just needed a break. Maybe a small party with just the gang would’ve been a better idea.”

“Not much for the big parties anymore?”

“No, I still love a party. I just think that maybe now wasn’t the best time in my life for one.”

“That’s understandable,” you say with a nod, and then there’s a brief moment of silence.

You are suddenly reminded that you have a gift for him.

“Oh, stay right here! I’ll be back in two minutes, don’t move,” you tell him before dashing toward the stairs and heading for your room. You return quickly, box in hand, which makes him chuckle.

“I told you not to buy me anything,” he says, a small smile upon his lips.

“I didn’t buy it. Just open in,” you tell him as you hand the box over.

He carefully unties the bow and pulls the wrapping paper off gently—much to your surprise, as he usually just rips it apart—before opening the box to reveal the blanket you made for him. He takes the blanket from the box and unfolds it to find that the design in the center is his Iron Man helmet, and a gasp escapes his lips.

“You made this?” he asks, shock clear in his tone.

“Yes, Stark. Contrary to popular belief, I actually have some talent.”

“Hey, don’t be like that. It’s beautiful. I love it! And you are talented.” He wraps the blanket around his shoulders and pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” he mumbles against your hair.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask into his chest.

He ignores the question, although it was slightly rhetorical anyway. “You’re so good to me.”

You pull your head back from his chest to look up at him, smiling in his embrace. He’s grinning down at you, shaking his head a little bit as a light laugh escapes his lips. You’re about to ask what’s so funny when his head dips down to capture your lips in a kiss. You’re in shock for a moment, but compose yourself quickly. Soon enough, you find yourself lost in his kiss, and when he finally parts for air, he rests his forehead against your own.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers and wraps the blanket around both of you. “Thank you for this.”

You nod your head slightly before pecking his lips once more. “Happy birthday, Tony.”

The two of you stand there at the railing, wrapped up in his birthday blanket as you both stare at the city skyline, no plans to head back down to the party anytime soon.

#hqwkeyes #tony stark #tony stark x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #marvel fic #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #Tony Stark fanfiction #happy birthday tony stark #marvel drabble #marvel drabbles #tony stark drabble #drabble

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whynotcallitvanda · 6 years

Text

A Question of Identity

Title: A Question of Identity

For: @concretegrrl

Rating: G

Word Count: 4370

Warnings: None

Summary: While on the run after the events of Civil War, Wanda begins to feel like she’s losing herself. Luckily, she has a wonderful boyfriend who can try to help her feel better. Written for the prompt “I would love a fic that focuses on Vision learning more about Wanda’s Sokovian/Romani heritage, either from Wanda or on his own. Bonus points for fluff!”

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045862

Message for recipient: Hi, Kait! I loved the prompt, I thought it was so interesting and I really hope I did it justice. It was really fun to write, so thank you! I tried my best to do research, and based the food on Czech cuisine because in one of the movies Sokovia is shown to border the Czech Republic. I hope I get the fluff bonus points, and I hope you like it!

A Question of Identity

Vision tied off the end of Wanda’s braid and passed it over her shoulder to indicate that he was finished with it.

Wanda moved out of her spot between his legs and turned to face him on the bed, curling her feet under her. “Thanks, babe.” She pressed a kiss onto his lips, fingers worrying distractedly at the bleach-damaged ends of her hair.

“You are quite welcome.” Vision smiled at her, but Wanda wasn’t looking at him anymore. Instead she was gazing pensively at one of the hotel room’s four large mirrors. She’d seemed preoccupied ever since she asked him to braid her hair, and at first, he hadn’t been sure, but now he thought he might know what was bothering her.

“Is everything alright, Wanda?” Vision asked, cocking his head to the side and studying her further.

“Yeah, why?” Wanda didn’t turn her head, but she did make eye contact with him in the mirror.

“You continue to seem . . . dissatisfied with your hair,” Vision said carefully.

Wanda snorted, shoving the unnaturally orange braid over her shoulder where she couldn’t play with it. “Nat said I’ll get used to the color.”

“It’s been six months.”

Wanda finally faced him, wearing that small, slightly-annoyed smile that she got whenever he pointed out any of her logical fallacies. “But I wasn’t a redhead for all of that time.”

That was true enough. She cycled between various shades of blonde and red—never anything too dark, nothing too close to her natural brown. He thought they were all beautiful, of course, but Wanda only got more and more frustrated with each new look.

“I miss my hair.” Wanda sighed. She’d gone back to staring at the mirror. “Maybe it’s vain, I don’t know, but I always loved my hair.” She chuckled a little. “When I was a girl, I wanted it to be so long. As long as I could grow it. Long, and dark, and curly, like my mother’s. Hers was beautiful—curlier than mine, and I’m probably remembering it longer than it actually was, but I thought she had more hair than I’d ever seen in my life.”

Vision felt his chest constrict at the thought of just how much she was sharing with him. She’d shared so much over the course of their relationship, but he always selfishly wanted to know more. “And your father? Was his similar?”

Wanda shook her head, blinking, and part of Vision felt guilty for her tears, but another part of him recognized that this was just the way she remembered, with small details and glistening eyes.

“No,” she answered finally. “Well, sort of. His was dark—we all had dark hair—me, my parents, Pietro when he didn’t dye it, even my grandparents from the pictures I remember. But my father’s wasn’t curly like—” her voice broke, signaling to Vision that this was enough, the conversation had gone too far.

He reached out, drew her into his arms, and held her. She cried quietly into his chest. The tears for her parents were usually silent, like these, tamed by years of hiding them from her ever-present twin. The ones for Pietro were wild and forceful and found her in the middle of the night, so strong that she’d wake the next morning more physically exhausted than the night before.

Vision had seen many kinds of Wanda’s tears, and he hated—hated, something he’d once thought himself incapable of—he hated them more than almost anything.

Wanda sniffed and sat up, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. Vision recognized this as well. It was her ‘get ahold of yourself’ face. He kissed her cheek.

She stood, facing the mirror once more, hands crossed over her chest. “I understand why dyeing it is necessary. I can’t look like me because I can’t be me, especially since we’re already taking a risk meeting like we do.” Wanda took a deep breath, waving one hand in a sweeping gesture. “I just miss feeling like myself.”

Vision reached forward and gently grabbed the arm that wasn’t pressed against her stomach. He took her hand, still unused to the feeling of her bare, ringless fingers. “Is there anything I can do to help in that regard?”

Wanda smiled, leaning forward to kiss him. “You’re doing it, Vizh. Being with you is about the only thing that keeps me from completely losing myself.”

Still, as Vision embarked on the long journey back to the United States the next day, he wished there was something more he could do for her.

Vision sat stock still, the way that unnerved most people with its inhumanness. He could’ve gone through the motions of breathing, shifting in his seat, blinking, and glancing around, but he was alone, here in Wanda’s old room, so there wasn’t anyone else to consider.

He usually tried to stay away from Wanda’s bedroom, both because he wished to ensure his connection to her remained as inconspicuous as possible, and because something about it felt oddly invasive. He could still hear the echoes of “Knock, Vizh!” and though he knew he no longer had to worry about walking in on her naked, being alone somewhere so intrinsically tied to Wanda without her knowledge or consent didn’t appeal to his sense of propriety.

Today, however, that essence of Wanda was exactly what he was trying to capture. He’d given a lot of thought to her feelings of losing herself and had come to the conclusion that he had to do something about it.

It was honestly no wonder Wanda was feeling frustrated. On the run like she was, she couldn’t look like herself, she couldn’t sound like herself, she couldn’t dress like herself, she couldn’t be herself. One’s identity is tied to one’s appearance, as Vision himself learned when he set about developing his human disguise.

But this wasn’t about him. It was about Wanda.

The first step, naturally, was to figure out exactly what made Wanda feel like herself. After that, he could attempt to integrate those elements into her fugitive life in a way that wouldn’t put her in danger.

Vision closed his eyes and thought about Wanda. He thought about her smile, her laugh, the many different looks in her eyes. He visualized her fingers dancing through the air, the light of her own scarlet power glinting off her rings. The way she hummed when she was preoccupied, and the slight furrowing of her brow whenever Mr. Stark said something obnoxious.

The way she talked of her home, of the years before the bomb, of her mother teaching her to cook and her father teaching her to dance, of Pietro impish pranks and her grandmother's pet cat.

The flash of scarlet in her eyes when she mentions the Sokovian civil war, or the communists, or the Nazis. How civil unrest stole her grandfather from her long before it took her parents. Living on the streets, stealing to survive, barely feeling any shame for it, and the shame she feels now, years later. The sad fondness that overtakes her whenever Pietro's overprotectiveness would come up, and the fierce anger at any implication that Sokovia wasn't worth the effort, that rebuilding it was a waste, that maybe this would teach that backward nation a lesson.

Wanda loved her country, despite everything, and ultimately, she'd given up everything for it. The struggle to make Sokovia a better place had taken her parents, her home, then her freedom, her humanity, and if that wasn't enough, it took her brother, too.

And she still loved her country, and she still saw it as part of her identity, inseparable from herself.

Vision opened his eyes.

He knew what he needed to do.

Vision walked the streets of Novi Grad, clad in his human disguise, doing his best to blend in. He hadn’t seen Novi Grad before Ultron, so he had no firsthand knowledge of the city as Wanda had known it, however before this trip he did as much researching as he could. He wanted to be able to recognize the differences as Wanda would see them, if she was ever able to come back here.

A part of him felt bad for coming without her. She occasionally spoke about bringing him, to show him a place from her childhood, only to remember that it had probably been destroyed along with everything else. Unfortunately, however, if he wanted to get the information he needed, a trip to Novi Grad was the only way, short of asking Wanda herself, which would of course ruin the surprise.

Vision headed away from the city center. According to his research, the best place to glimpse true Sokovian culture was on the outskirts of the city where the damage had been lighter. After the Ultron crisis, nations from all over the world had banded together to rebuild Sokovia, and so far, things were looking up for its citizens. They even had a budding tourist economy based around the battle with Ultron.

That was all well and good, but Vision wasn’t sure Wanda would appreciate a Tony Stark bobblehead that was likely made in China.

After only twenty minutes of walking, he found himself in a much more residential area. There was a bakery to his right, flanked by a brewery on one side and a pharmacy on the other. People were out and about—not as many as he’d seen in other part of the city, but enough to imply that this was a well-traveled area.

He supposed there was nothing else for it except to attempt to strike up a conversation with someone. That was why he was here, after all, but he was suddenly rather nervous.

He scanned the people he saw, deciding eventually to approach one of the men, aware that a strange, foreign man walking up to a woman on the street usually indicated sinister motives. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten someone.

“Excuse me, sir?” he said in accented Sokovian. He was capable of speaking the language perfectly, but for the part he was playing, he needed to seem like an outsider.

The man looked up, distrust evident in his eyes. It appeared that there really weren’t many visitors in this part of town. “Yes?”

“I was wondering about Sokovian culture,” Vision said as smoothly as he could in his accented voice. “Do you know where I could get that information?”

The man’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that kind of query. “That’s a broad topic.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Vision conceded.

“Are you a professor or something?” the man asked, still carefully appraising him.

“No, nothing like that.” Vision shook his head, belatedly realizing that would have been an excellent cover story. “See, my girlfriend is from Novi Grad, she had to move after the incident, and—” he explained the predicament, and exactly what he was trying to accomplish.

“Oh.” The man paused. “Huh. Well, I’d check out the bakery. Katinka, the girl who works there, she can tell you a lot, and if she can’t, then her grandmother will be able to.” He looked Vision up and down a final time. “Just don’t interfere with business, and I’m sure they will help you.”

Vision looked in the direction the man indicated. “Thank you very much, sir. Have a nice day.”

“You too.” The man walked off, shaking his head.

Vision entered the bakery hesitantly. He didn’t want to detract from business, but generally avoided buying or eating food, as a rule. The bakery was currently empty, however, so he didn’t feel quite as bad about taking up the woman’s time.

She was behind the counter, busy wrapping up various pastries and breads. “Can I help you?” she asked, glancing up.

Vision briefly explained his goals once again. The woman put down her parcels of food.

“Wow. That’s so sweet.” She smiled. “I’d be happy to help! My name is Katinka.”

“Victor,” Vision said smoothly, using the alias he’d adopted for visiting Wanda.

“Nice to meet you, Victor.” Katinka leaned in conspiringly. “I’m really not supposed to do this—my grandmother would kill me if she found out—but I can give you our family recipes, if you want.”

Vision nodded so enthusiastically he began to feel dizzy. “That would be wonderful!”

“Okay, well, the first thing you do is—” Katinka stopped. “Oh, do you need to write this down?”

“I will remember,” Vision said confidently.

Katinka looked skeptical, but didn’t argue with him. “All right. The first thing you do is . . .”

Vision did remember Katinka’s instructions. He remembered them in the same vivid detail that he remembered everything else that had ever happened to him. That wouldn’t be of any help to him, however, if the dough continued to be uncooperative.

He should’ve practiced.

After leaving Katinka’s bakery full of confidence and gratitude, he’d managed to track down the other people she’d suggested, her grandmother and uncle. They were all very helpful, and Vision had thought that everything was going wonderfully. The cabbage soup was simmering, he’d successfully fried the topinky bread (though he was concerned about the large amount of garlic Katinka had told him to use), and the schnitzel was far easier than he’d expected after Katinka’s grandmother’s demonstration.

The trouble came, however, when he tried to make the buchty for dessert. The sweet dumpling, as Katinka had explained, was usually filled with a fruit confit, but he hadn’t even gotten started on that yet, because the dough was just not working!

The consistency was all wrong. Perhaps it needed some more flour? Vision turned, grabbing the bag of flour with one hand, but his other hand was covered in sticky bits of dough. He tried to gently shake it off, and when that didn’t work, scraped his fingers on the edge of the bowl. It only occurred to him later that if he’d simply phased his hand and let the dough fall off, he could’ve avoided what happened next.

In his frustration with the dough, he involuntarily squeezed the open bag of flour in his other hand, causing a puff of the white powder to envelop his face. This in turn, surprised him so much that the bag slipped from his fingers and hit the ground, spilling flour all over the floor. Vision stood frozen in the mess, filled with the overwhelming urge to laugh at his misfortune. Before he could decide on the appropriate response, however, he heard the sounds of the front door opening.

Wanda was home.

"Vizh?" Wanda opened the door to her small Edinburgh apartment, trying to push down her budding excitement. "Is that you?" She knew it was him, she could sense his mind from blocks away, but he wasn't supposed to be here for another week.

"Wanda?" Vision's voice came from around the corner, and the slight panic in his mind made her pause in the door. "You're back earlier than—” He appeared in front of her, phasing through part of the wall. He took a deep breath like he was steading himself and smiled at her. "Hello.”

"Hi." Wanda held back a giggle and threw her arms around his neck. "What are you doing here?" she murmured into the fabric of his sweater. She pulled back, her brain finally registering the rest of his attire. "And why are you wearing an apron? Are you cooking?"

"I—well," Vision rubbed the back of his neck. "I was trying to—"

"To cook for me?" Wanda interrupted excitedly, beaming.

Vision nodded, looking down. "Certain things didn't work the way I anticipated, plus you arrived early, so—"

"Can I help?" Wanda interrupted again. "Or not, if you would rather this be one of those things you do for me by yourself."

"Your aid would be much appreciated."

Wanda grinned, throwing her arms around him again. "You're the best, you know that?"

"You’ve yet to see the kitchen," Vision deflected.

"What did you do to the kitchen?" Wanda pushed past him into the other room, grabbing his hand and pulling him with her.

She froze in the door, staring, her mouth falling open.

There was flour all over the place, the floor, the cabinets, the counter, plus a glob of some kind of dough on the wall that Vision had phased through. She figured that the mess was one of the things that Vision hadn't anticipated, but she barely noticed any of it. She was too caught up in what assaulted the rest of her senses.

Vision shifted uncomfortably, misinterpreting her silence. He stepped forward to pick up the bag of flour. "I apologize for the mess. I was—"

"What’s that smell, Vizh?" Wanda's shoulders were tense, and she knew Vision could see it, and she knew she should reassure him that she wasn't upset, but the scent of those spices and the sight of those ingredients were bringing tears to her eyes and the last thing she wanted was for him to think he made her cry when he was such a sweetheart for attempting to do this in the first place.

Vision clearly didn't know what to do, eyes flicking from Wanda to the kitchen and back again. “Uh, well, I made topinky, cabbage soup, and schnitzel. I was attempting buchty, but as you can see, that didn’t go according to plan.”

Wanda whirled around to face him, throwing herself in his arms for the third time. "I love you," she breathed, unable to come up with any other coherent thought. “I love you so much.”

Vision stiffened, arms still around Wanda, but there was no hesitation in his words. "I love you, too, Wanda."

Wanda kissed him, staying in his arms for as long as she could before she had to pull away. "Why—I mean, what made you decide to—" she waved her hand helplessly at the counter.

Vision looked uncomfortable again. "You seemed like you could use a taste of home."

Wanda smiled, tears pricking her eyes again. "Thank you, Vizh."

“Of course.”

Wanda examined Vision’s first batch of dough. “I hate to say it, babe, but this seems unsalvageable.”

Vision nodded. “I figured as much.” He crouched down and began sweeping the spilled flour into piles with his hands.

“You know that I can get all of that?” Wanda snapped her fingers, letting out a spark of red. “If you’d like.”

“Be my guest.” Vision stood, giving her a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

She smiled, setting down the bowl. This would be harder than most things she manipulated, but if she could extract a cloud of gas from a building, she could clean up a little flour.

A sweep of her hands and few flicks of her fingers, and delicate wisps of red were plucking at the grains of flour, gathering them together into a dust-cloud in the middle of the room. When she was sure she had it all, she sent it flying into the trash can, closing the lid with a satisfying clang.

Wanda turned to Vision, grinning. “Nothing to it.”

“It would appear not.” Vision smiled back at her, and then hesitated like there was something else he wanted to say.

“Yes?” Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was going to wait to give these to you,” Vision reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small bag. Wanda recognized it instantly, and her eyes widened. “I thought that there wouldn’t be any harm in rescuing a few of your belongings from the compound. These seemed small enough to go unnoticed.”

Wanda stumbled forward and took the bag from him, fingers trembling as she undid the drawstring and let the contents tumble into her hand. It was her rings, all of them, the ones she’d been wearing when she’d been arrested and the ones she’d left in her room. She put them on immediately, and then laughed, pulling them off again.

“Is everything all right?” Vision asked nervously.

“Yes, don’t worry.” Wanda pressed a kiss onto his lips. “I just can’t cook with all the rings on.”

“Oh, right.” Vision looked embarrassed, and Wanda giggled. He gestured to the ingredients on the counter. “Shall we?”

“Absolutely.”

Cooking was much more enjoyable when Wanda was there to help. It frustrated Vision no end that he couldn't seem to master it, but Wanda's assurances that even many humans are terrible cooks did somewhat mollify him. The food turned out delicious, according to Wanda. He declined to have any so that Wanda would have plenty of leftovers for the rest of the week, but she did make him try a taste of each dish, and he had to admit that the palate was unlike anything he’d tried before.

Vision dried the last of the dishes as Wanda arranged the leftovers in the fridge, humming to herself. Vision figured this was as good a time as any to bring up the next item on his agenda.

"Wanda?"

"Hmm?" Her head was still in the tiny fridge, shoving things around.

"What song is that? You hum it often."

"Oh." Wanda straightened, letting the fridge door swing shut. "Uh, just something my dad used to listen to. An old Sokovian folk song. I don't really remember the words."

"Would you like to hear it?" Vision asked, producing a small CD player from where he’d stashed it in the cabinet.

"What?" Wanda cocked her head to the side. "There's no way that you—"

Vision pressed play.

The familiar melody filled the air. Vision was impressed at how well Wanda had been reproducing it after all these years.

She was silent while the song played, but she didn't try to stop the tears from falling this time.

Vision paused the CD before the next track could play, the anxious knot in his stomach now a familiar sensation.

"How did you do that?" Wanda breathed, "Where did you—"

"There was an old street performer in Novi Grad. He claimed to play nearly forgotten music, so I asked him about the song you always sing. It took some time, but he finally figured out which one I meant. He made a CD with that song, and others he thought you might know, and—" Vision reached into the cabinet again, fumbling slightly. Wanda twirled her fingers, and took the CD player from him with a few curls of scarlet, freeing his hands. "And he wrote down the sheet music, so you can learn to play them, if you want. I would have gotten you an instrument—I know you used to play guitar—but I wasn't sure what would be the most appropriate—"

"Vizh." Wanda said quietly, still balancing the CD player with her powers. "I'm so confused. Why did—How—When did you go to Novi Grad?”

The frustration in her voice and the tears still lingering on her face made Vision rapidly rethink his plan. Unfortunately, it was far too late to turn back now.

"Well, I guess—" He stumbled over the words. "Can we go sit down, and I'll explain?"

Wanda nodded, pulling the CD player towards her and cradling it to her chest as she followed him to the couch.

Vision waited until she was sitting comfortably with her feet curled under her, facing him. She was still clutching the CD player, but Vision took that as a good sign. He templed his fingers in his lap, staring down at them.

"I guess the simplest explanation is that I wanted you to know that you didn't have to completely give up your identity—whether that's your culture, or your personality, or anything else about you—just because you're a fugitive. You can still interact with all of these aspects that make you feel like yourself," Vision explained quietly. “So, I took a trip to Novi Grad to see if I could find something to help you feel better. I met a very nice woman who taught me to bake. Her grandmother taught me to cook, and her uncle was the street performer I mentioned.”

Wanda let out a breath. "Vizh, that's—I—" She broke off helplessly, holding out a hand towards his head. "Can I—?”

"Of course." Vision leaned closer, always welcoming a stronger connection with her, especially when she was articulating complicated emotions.

A few drops of red crossed the distance between her fingertips and his forehead, and then he was hit with a wave of warmth, and love, and gratitude, and just a hint of unworthiness, all jumbled together with confusion that anyone would go to all this trouble for her.

"It's not silly," Vision said immediately, picking up on the errant thought that she had been making a fuss over nothing. "There's nothing silly or inconsequential about your feelings, Wanda." He could tell she didn't quite believe him, or thought he didn't quite understand what she meant, so he persisted. "You think that your feelings of losing your identity were unfounded and ridiculous, and that's simply not the case."

Wanda shrugged, looking away. "I guess, but they certainly weren't worth all this."

"Of course they were," Vision insisted, grabbing her hands and bringing them to his lips. "Darling, you're the one who's always telling me that my feelings are valid, no matter what they are, and I want to show you that yours are as well."

Wanda was crying again. She pulled one of her hands back to swipe at her cheeks, and Vision reached out to cradle her face between his hands, wiping the tears away for her. "I apologize if this was too much. I don't think I've quite got the hang of what is an appropriate gesture. I just want you to know that—as you always tell me—whatever you're feeling is important to me. I want to do what I can to make you happy. Always."

Wanda bit her lip, nodding, and then pulled him close for a kiss. She didn't have the words to thank him, but she made sure that, through both her thoughts and her kisses, Vision knew exactly what he meant to her.

#sve2018 #scarletvisionexchange2018 #Scarlet Vision #fanfiction #my writing #Wanda Maximoff #Vision

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ndrv3winterexchange · 6 years

Text

all light in the heavens

for @soniagiris from @tenmiu ! I really hope that you enjoy this x-mas themed saimatsu!!

Endgame v3 spoilers below the cut & mild gore warning!

The other side of the bed is cold.

Saihara’s fingers stretch out under the down quilt, seeking out Kaede’s warmth, but they find only the soft sheets covering the mattress. He rolls over onto his back, eyes flickering open, to see hazy light streaming into the room, shining on the rose pink walls.

He can smell something emanating from the kitchen, soft and sharp all at once, like a splatter of fountain pen ink against fresh paper. Saihara props himself up on one elbow and rubs his eyes. The radiator in the corner of the bedroom is creaking and groaning.

He gets to his feet and floats into the kitchen, searching out the scent. Kaede is standing facing the stove, humming along to a song he recognizes the tune of.

“Good morning,” he says. His vision is still a little clouded from lack of sleep.

Kaede spins around, her hair smacking her mid back, “Shuuichi! I thought I was gonna have to wake you up, sleepyhead.”

Saihara smiles wearily, “Sorry. I think I was up for half the night.”

Her features soften, “Nightmare?”

“Maybe,” he admits, “I can’t remember it now… And I don’t really want to. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay!” Kaede promises, smiling at him with more intensity than the sun, “Don’t beat yourself up. Sit down, get some coffee! I’ll bring breakfast over in a minute.”

Saihara nods and sits down at the table. It’s right next to the window, and provides an ample view into the courtyard below, that is, when frost isn’t freezing the glass completely white.

He glances over his shoulder to examine their apartment, only to pause and cock his head. He can almost be certain that there had been a significant change since the previous night.

“K-Kaede?” Saihara asks, “Did you… decorate?”

Kaede giggles, “Oh, you noticed! Yeah, I really, really love Christmas, so I thought I’d put up some lights and a tree, even if today’s the Eve.”

Saihara says, “I’ve never celebrated Christmas before, but it all looks really nice. I’m sorry that I wasn’t awake to help you, though. It must have been a lot of work.”

She shrugs, “It wasn’t much trouble. And I got to see your reaction, so it was all worth it, really.”

Saihara closes his hand around the warm mug of coffee in front of him, “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“It’s the truth!” she exclaims, “I’m super excited to enjoy this holidays with you and our friends. And I can’t wait to see what gifts everyone got for each other!”

His mouth dries up. He hasn’t bought her a present yet.

Kaede glances over her shoulder at him, “Are you excited too, Shuuichi? You look stressed out.”

Saihara shakes himself, “Of course I am! I just… have to pick up some of the gifts that I ordered. I hope that you don’t mind me running out on you.”

Kaede beams, “That’s not a problem. Come back soon, okay? I always get lonely when you’re not around.”

“I do too,” he admits, “I’ll try to make it a quick trip. That way we can still do some nice things together when I get home.”

“Alrighty! Have fun!” Kaede chirps.

Saihara takes his finished plate of eggs over to the sink and places them down on the stainless steel, then turns to her and kisses her on the cheek, “Take care.”

She takes his hand for a moment, looking up at him with glassy eyes, “You too.”

Saihara squeezes her hand, then leaves their shared apartment, heading for the department store a few blocks down. The walk is only a couple minutes, but in the biting cold air, time seems to pass much slower.

Once he’s inside the big building, it’s easy to navigate where he wants. There’s very few other customers around - probably spending time with their loved ones in lieu of shopping - which is good for keeping his anxiety at bay.

There’s a music store on the third floor. Saihara enters it, flocking to the shelves of piano books. He had considered buying her the newest installment of a game series she liked - one about courtrooms and pointing and truth - but decided against it. They’ve both had enough trials for a lifetime.

Besides, he can’t remember the name for the life of him.

Saihara selects a few difficult looking piano books and heads for the register. Tenko is standing behind it in her old aikidoka outfit, pinwheel and all. She regards him with a slightly confused smile.

“Hi, Saihara-san,” she says, “Didn’t realize that you still lived around here.”

Saihara pushes the books towards her, “Has it been that long since I came by? I’m sorry.”

Tenko scans the items, “Don’t stress about it. Just… missed seeing you every once in awhile. It’s not very much fun, working a dead end job like this one. Gets really lonely.”

“I’ll make sure to visit you more often,” Saihara promises, taking the books. Tenko had apparently wrapped them for him already, saving him time trying to find an open gift-wrap station, “Thank you, Chabashira-san. I’ll see you soon.”

Tenko flicks the Monodam bobblehead that sits next to her register, “Sure. Bye now, Saihara-san. Have a good holiday.”

“You too,” Saihara says, exiting the music store and breaking into a run. He just manages to slip onto the last train in time, standing upright in the metal cylinder mere moments before the doors close.

The ride lasts for several hours, but they pass in a blip. Saihara gets off as soon as he’s close to their apartment, waving at the taxi driver who brought him all the way there.

The moon shines down on his head as he weaves through the darkness. Ahead is their residence, and he dashed across their still green lawn to the front door. It opens with ease.

Kaede is hovering by their slow cooker, stirring something with a ladle. She looks up when she sees him and beams.

“Good to see that you’re home! I was wondering what was taking you so long,” she says.

Saihara stamps the snow off of his boots and hangs up his coat, “Sorry. It was a longer walk back than I expected.”

Kaede says, “It’s no trouble. Sit down, I made mulled wine for us!”

Saihara shuffles over to the table. It’s right next to the door, thankfully. Kaede drifts over a moment later with two steaming mugs and hands one to him.

They make small conversation between sips of the wine. Kaede seems to be enjoying it, but it merely tastes hot to him. Perhaps that’s part of the appeal. He decides.

“– said that they can’t make it to our gathering,” Kaede says, playing with her hair. It hardly brushes her shoulders anymore.

Saihara blinks, “Hm? Why can’t they make it?”

Kaede giggles, “Silly, they want to spend their first holidays as fiancés together. Remember, we got their wedding invitation?”

She points to a piece of paper on the table that he hadn’t noticed before. He reaches out to read it, but the printing on it is so messy that he can’t decipher it. It must be the three - four? No, three - cups of wine he had already drank. Even Kaede was a little blurry.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Saihara says eventually, “I was looking forward to seeing them.”

Kaede nods, “It is, but the others are still coming by tomorrow morning.”

Saihara nods and takes another sip, “I’m glad to hear that.”

Kaede taps her fingers on the table to the beat of a song. Suddenly, she says, “Hey, let’s open the gifts we got for each other! I know it’s the night before, but I’d feel weird about giving it to you in front of everyone.”

Saihara blinks, “Oh, sure. Should we go sit by the tree, then?”

“Sure!” Kaede chirps, jumping to her feet. Saihara pulls his wrapped presents out of the plastic bag and follows after her, sitting in front of the soft pine. On her way, she must have turned on some music, because English Christmas carols are floating through the apartment.

He hands over his gift first. Kaede tears into the paper and then gasps, “It’s just what I wanted! Thank you so much, Shuuichi! I can play so many new songs for you.”

“I can’t wait,” Saihara says, meaning it.

Kaede beams, “Okay, okay, my turn! Uh, I put it down… here!” She passes him a white box. It’s tied up with a pink ribbon, and feels surprisingly light.

Saihara pulls open the lid, only to pause at the sight inside, “Kaede? It’s empty.”

“Oh!” she exclaims, “Aren’t I silly, I forgot to put it in! Well… I guess I’ll just give you my gift normally. Close your eyes, okay?”

Saihara complies.

Kaede says, “Hold out your hand.”

He does so, and she places something in his hand. It’s warm… and wet… and… pulsing? Saihara’s eyes flicker open to see that he’s holding a human heart in his palm.

Saihara’s gaze snaps up to meet Kaede’s. Her eyes hold the same vacant expression, completely devoid of any troubles. There’s a bloody hole in her chest.

“K-Kaede… what the hell?” Saihara croaks, staring at the organ.

Something in Kaede’s voice fluctuates, like a lilo losing air, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like my present to you, Shuuichi? I got it just for you…”

He isn’t sure if it’s his own heart or the one in his hand, but he feels a beat coursing through his entire body, choking him.

Kaede smiles, sickly sweet, and moves his other hand on top of the warm heart, “I think that you just need to give my gift a chance.”

Saihara whispers, “Why are you…”

Kaede moves his arms him to his face, “Why don’t you… have a taste?”

“No!” Saihara yells, moving his head backwards. He looks over his shoulder but there’s nowhere to hide.

Kaede moves his arms with more force, her smile gaining daggers. She thrusts her heart up to his face and Saihara struggles but she’s stronger than him, she always was.

The Flea Waltz screams into his ears as she forces the organ up, up, up until it brushes his lips-

Saihara awakens in a cold sweat.

He’s in his bedroom with the olive green wallpaper, right where he should be. No fancy bed, no seasonal decorations, just a very large futon, and the two people who live with him.

He traces the lining of his quilt with his finger, trying to latch onto the sensation. Already the dream, or perhaps the nightmare, is fading.

Beside him, Himiko stirs, “Nyeh? Saihara, what are you doing? It’s… it’s fuck o’clock in the morning.”

Saihara freezes, realizing that his breathing is loud enough that she must be able to hear it. He mumbles, “U-Um… I… Sorry.”

Himiko looks up at him with sympathetic eyes, “Oh, I see. Was it a good dream? Or a nightmare?”

Saihara moves his lips soundlessly before croaking, “I… don’t know.”

Himiko says, “I’ll make you some hot chocolate. You try and sort yourself out.”

She rolls off of the futon and walks out of their bedroom. Shortly after, there’s a series of clanking noises. Saihara pulls the quilt tighter around his shoulders.

On the far side of the futon, Maki wearily raises her head and grumbles, “Which one of you…”

“Y-Yumeno-san is in the kitchen,” Saihara breaths, trying to steady himself.

Maki squints at him, “What happened? You look like shit.”

Saihara hunches over. He can feel a heartbeat inside him, but whether it’s his own, or a remnant of the dream, he isn’t sure.

Maki raises an eyebrow, “What kind of dream was it? Her execution?”

He flinches on instinct, “N-No. I… I probably could have… handled that.”

Maki scoots closer, “You don’t have to tell us. But if it would make you feel better, we’re here to listen.”

“Harumaki?” Himiko pokes her head through the door, “I didn’t know you woke up too. Did you also…”

Maki shakes her head, “I heard the noise. What’s that you’ve got there?”

Himiko scurries in, “Hot chocolate. Figured it would help calm Saihara down. You doing any better?”

He shrugs, “Uh… Maybe. It doesn’t hurt as much?”

“That’s good,” Himiko says, setting down a tray of mugs on the floor. She crawls onto the futon and worms her way under the blanket, nestling right between the two of them.

Saihara takes one of the mugs - the one with the alpaca decal on it - and takes a sip. It’s hot, like the wine from the dream, but he can actually taste the flavours.

The other two take the remaining mugs, curling closer together so they can all share body heat.

After a moment, Saihara mumbles, “We were spending the holidays together. And she gave me a gift.”

“That sounds nice,” Himiko says softly, “What did she give you?”

“Her heart. Literally,” he adds, when she gives him a confused expression, “She… ripped it out of her chest… and she… she m-made me…”

Maki breaks in, “Don’t continue, if it’s going to fuck you up. I get the picture.”

Himiko says, “I’m so sorry. Are you gonna be okay?”

“I… I don’t know,” he whispers, sucking back more hot chocolate.

Maki says, “It’s fine if you aren’t. I know I’ll never be ‘okay.’ Trauma doesn’t just vanish with passing time, and what happened fucked with you… so you don’t have to try and fix yourself. Especially when you’re not broken.”

Saihara looks at her for a moment, “T-Thanks, Harukawa-san. That means a lot.”

Maki looks down at her mug, “Don’t mention it.”

They continue to drink until their mugs run empty. Once they’ve all finished, Himiko sets their mugs back on the tray.

“I’m… going to try and go back to sleep now,” Saihara says softly.

Himiko asks, “Will you be okay?”

He shrugs, “I’ll find out, I guess. Thank you, both of you.”

Saihara lies down before either of them can make a bigger protest.

His eyes flicker open to the apartment with rose pink walls and smooth floorboards. Saihara turns his head to see that Kaede is sitting on his left, looking at him almost expectantly.

“Sorry,” he says, taking her hand.

“No, I shouldn’t have scared you the way I did,” Kaede says. There’s a large bandage on her chest.

Saihara takes her hand. Quietly, he says, “I still love you. Is that a bad thing?”

Kaede shrugs, “I don’t think so. But I’m biased, of course. I still love you too.”

Saihara cups her cheek with his hand and leans in, kissing her with the intensity of a choir of furies. He feels her smile at him, before she kisses him back.

Saihara finds himself not wanting to wake up again, and the blood in his mouth only serves to make the moment sweeter.

#saimatsu #ndrv3 #shuuichi saihara #kaede akamatsu #tenko chabashira #submission

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nurturingflame · 7 years

Text

Week In Review - 65

Lots laid out on the table this week. Maybe that means moving forward there will be less room for misunderstandings. Pfft! HA! Yeah right! Next week we start the Haunted Warehouse Adventures!

To Prune & Grow 13-16

Splinter’s words tumbled in her ears, but it took a moment for them to reach her brain. Why is he telling me this?

The feel of his fingers on her hand was disconcerting. When he offered his palm to her, she considered refusing, and had to fight with herself not to. She didn’t really need any balm. In fact, the little prickles that indicated her healing power was working had already started, and would most likely have her hand good as new before they left. But he’d gotten the balm for her, come back, offered his hand out, after she’d called him nasty names. Well, not that nasty. I’m sure he’s been called worse. But then, she’d been called much worse than ‘impossible’, both behind her back and to her face. She she’d placed her palm in his.

The warm pressure of his ministrations sent tingles up her wrist that had nothing to do with the little golden ants that might be gathering there. He rubbed with the second pad of each finger, lifting the tips to keep the claws from scraping her. The pressure was consistent and seemed to rub in just the right places, so that her shoulders dropped and she sighed slightly.

Then he began speaking of his wife and daughter, while at the same time she wondered why someone rubbing her hand would feel so nice. Had it been that long since someone had touched her in a compassionate way? She couldn’t remember.

Even in a loving union...Perhaps she had misread the relationship between Splinter and Eliza. While the ferret had insisted that there was nothing romantic between the two of them, and both of their actions seemed to confirm that most of the time, there were times like this one, when Phoenix felt thrown off, like she couldn’t figure out what everyone’s role was in this great play they were all acting in.

Then, he’d stopped rubbing, and just as she was about to withdraw her hand, he’d pressed down with his thumb, indicating she was to keep it there. She thought he’d start with another round of balm, which smelled slightly minty, but felt soothingly cool on her hot skin.

She was silent for a while, as she tried to think of a reply, staring at their hands and realized she had no place from which to search for one. What was happening now was like when she died the first time, there was no background for it, nothing to draw experience from.

So she drew from the only other place she knew.

“I’m not trying to take your woman away from you, Splinter,” she said gently, leaving her hand where it was, though she finally raised her eyes to look in his face.

Ideally a ninja should be prepared for every possibility, a master doubly so, nothing should surprise him. Yet, surprised, was an understatement of the circumstance Splinter found himself in. Shocked still would be a more appropriate description.

He found himself unable to process what the Phoenix had said, even after playing it over several times in his head. His tongue felt thick when he began to thaw from his frozen state.

“She… I… I'm not… I mean she's not...” He sounded like a fool and the agitation he felt towards himself worked to snap him from his befuddled state. He withdrew his hands from her and cleared his throat, taking a moment to sort out what he wanted to say. Actually he didn't WANT to say anything but apparently clarification was in order.

“I believe you are under a false impression Phoenix.” Her eyes looked into his and he had to fight the urge to look away from their intensity. At a loss to express his own thoughts, he recalled the words that the ferret had said in the hall. “Elizabeth has made it very clear that she is not mine, or anybody else's for that matter.”

“You act like she's your woman.” the little healer challenged. “Like she belongs here.”

“She does belong here!” Splinter pushed away from the table, unable to remain still while his thoughts were in such turmoil. “They are our responsibility, but it is more than that. Elizabeth has brought a new kind of life to our home, a comforting atmosphere that we have not had before. And Gwynevere,” Splinter stilled, a smile softening his features. “she takes the space her mother has created and fills it with joy.”

He looked at the Phoenix, his mood sobering. “You say you don't intend to take them away, but you cannot know if tragedy will come for them while in your care. It is…” he swallowed, his throat feeling thick with emotion. “hard for me to think of losing them, to you or to fate.” he sighed, “But it seems that I have no more say in the matter.”

Splinter felt defeated and wrung out, unused to letting his emotions be seen like this. He was ashamed of his outburst and wanted to crawl away to the comfort of his darkened room and meditate. However, there was one more point to clarify.

“Phoenix, if you believe that I have taken any ‘liberties’ with Mrs. VonHertz or abused my position as her protector, then you are sorely mistaken.” He leveled her with a gaze full of remorse, trying not to let visions he had received from the Rat King overwhelm him. “I have no woman.”

The woman who still sat the table was silent for a long time, her big green eyes still looking at him intently. She had taken her hand, the one he’d been holding, and massaged it with her other one, the look on her face was something akin to chagrin. The anger he felt at himself slowly began to inch toward her, pity as the last thing he needed or wanted. But then her visage smoothed out, and she pushed her chair out from under her and stood up.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you had abused Eliza in any way, Splinter,” she said carefully. Her cheeks slowly began to turn pink, and she finally looked away from him. “And I would imagine it would be very difficult indeed to ‘abuse’ Mrs. VonHertz.” She chuckled, shaking her head.

She came around the table, and he thought for a moment she was going to approach him, but she didn’t. “Listen,” she took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

What deal was she going to try and make, he thought, because her body language certainly indicated that was the direction she was headed. But again, he was surprised, so that his breath was almost taken from.

“I know you don’t like me,” she said quickly. Before he could interject, she went on, “I don’t know if I’d like you very much if our positions were reversed. I, feel strongly about my people, and you obviously do too. But, you aren’t going to lose Eliza and Gwyn to me,” she assured, her pale brows drawing upward, her mouth soft. “The entire reason they’re leaving is to build them a larger space in your home, remember?”

First he was a controlling curmudgeon, and now he didn’t like her. Did he really act so unpleasant when she was around? Did he dislike her? You want her, the Rat King’s voice echoed in his head again, so that his throat constricted. No, it was his own thoughts, a memory, not The Rat King himself. Could one want someone and dislike them at the same time?

He didn’t dislike her, he decided, but a much more troubling thought settled in on him. She frightened him. Her very presence in his life unsettled all kinds of things--the comfortable relationship he’d developed with Elizabeth, Gwyn’s attentions. His boys’ world now stretched even farther than it did before her arrival, for she seemed to have connections with more mutants than they had thought existed. It had been a very long time since he had had an outburst like the one only a few minutes before, or since he had been so taken aback that he was at a loss for words. She upset his control.

And he did not like that.

“Yes,” he answered her question with a small nod, placing his hands behind his back.

“You’re welcome to come to The Haunted Warehouse whenever you want to,” she said, making her way to the kitchen entrance. “It isn’t really haunted.” She gave him a soft, conciliatory smile.

“Thank you,” he replied, not sure how else to respond.

She nodded, then turned to leave. Just as she reached the exit, she turned back, her smile much more mischievous. “And if you want a woman, Splinter, I can hook you up with one.” She looked him up and down appreciatively, so that he took a step back. “I can think of quite a few women who would jump at the chance to put their arms around a man like you.”

She laughed, a girlish giggle, like the kind she had given on the dance floor at the party, and then disappeared from the kitchen.

“Do I have to bring my keyboard?”

“Yes Gwynevere, you are not getting out of practice for two weeks.”

“Awww.” Gwyn whined without too much heat, she knew it was long shot, but brightened again. “Do I have bring my math?”

Her mother paused in her folding and looked at her with a raised eye ridge before letting out a deep sigh. “Okay, how about we make a deal.”

Gwyn nodded her head eagerly, she'd agree to almost anything if it meant a break from schoolwork.

“You don't have to do any worksheets,”

“Yes!!” Gwyn wiggled happily from her spot on the floor where she was packing her suitcase.

“But!” Her mom qualified, holding up a finger. “You have to do two projects. One book report and one art or craft project.”

Gwyn thought for a moment before agreeing. “That doesn't sound too bad. But why?”

The ferret smiled and went back to folding. “This is an opportunity to spend time with the Phoenix’s kids, and I'm sure that they could teach you different things than the boys have. I know that Medusa likes to read and Acros and Aries are both very talented. Besides, if you have an assignment to do together, they might not mind having a little kid on their tails for two weeks.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes and laughed. “Do you always have to have a plan? Medusa and the guys like me just fine.” Gwyn rocked her head like a bobblehead doll. “In case you've forgotten, I'm adorable.”

Her mom laughed and stood to finish zippering her suitcase closed, tucking in stray fabric as she went. “That may be, but they've only had you in small doses till now. It's always good to have a game plan for these types of things.”

“Pfft.” Gwyn thought her mom was being silly. “You try too hard. This is gonna be fun!”

“Maybe,” the ferret said tilting her head to the side and scrunching her muzzle. “We’ll see. Are you done?”

“Almost.” The girl turned back to her packing. “Do I still get to go to the play with April and Casey’s sister?” She'd been promised a night on Broadway for her birthday since going home and seeing her friends wasn't an option anymore.

“Yes, being away from the lair shouldn't interfere with that at all. Make sure you pack something nice, maybe that purple dress?”

Gwyn went back to the dresser and picked out a few more items. April had taken her clothes shopping a couple times, mostly because Gwyn was hitting a growth spurt and desperately needed some new undergarments. As a result she had more to choose from then she had come to New York with, but not much. “That should do it.” She said with satisfaction as she closed her luggage.

“Good. Now go find someone to help you load the Shellraiser while I finish up.” Her mother turned her around and gave her a pat out the door, suitcase in tow.

Gwyn took off without a backwards glance, but waved to the Phoenix as she passed her in the hall, not bothering to stop and chat. As she entered the main space she saw Splinter leaving the kitchen and flagged him down. “Ojisan!!” She called happily as she dragged her bag behind her.

“Gwynevere.” The rat smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, in fact he looked kind of sad. Gwyn had overheard the adults arguing earlier and knew he wasn't happy about them leaving. “Ready to go so soon I see.”

“Yeah,” Gwyn twisted her sneaker against the concrete, her excitement dulled. “Mamma says we're going to take the Shellraiser, easier than walking across town with our stuff.”

“A prudent decision.” He said evenly. “I shall inform my sons to be prepared to escort you.” The rat turned away but Gwyn called him back.

“Ojisan.” It was Japanese for ‘Uncle’ a term that they had agreed would be okay for the babies to call him, so Gwyn decided she would call him that too. He seemed to like it. “Are you going to miss us?”

Splinter dropped to one knee so that they were eye to eye and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Very much.” He said softly. “But you will only be gone for a short time, like a vacation. I will be here to welcome you when you return home.”

“Okay. It’s a deal.”

Splinter nodded. “A promise.”

Gwyn smiled and gave him a fierce hug and she swore that he hugged her back twice as hard as he normally did. She didn't think it was a good idea to remind him that the last vacation she and her mom had left for they still hadn't returned home from.

#nurturingflame #tmnt #TMNT 2012 #tmnt rp #roleplay #rp #au #OC #master splinter #Week In Review #illusion-na #lydjachan

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