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watsittoyah · 11 months

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Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, and adult content. Some mentions of multiple dimensions. Oral sex, rough sex, fang play, claws kink, size kink, breeding kink, some over stimulation, major begging (female) and web bondage (shibari?)

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate and spanishdict to help…)

Chapter 9- And the puzzles fall into place..

Miguel has been very tense lately, which was making you tense. You figured he was feeling tense due to the green goblin incident.

Your only clue was when you asked him about it, he had simply snapped his pen in half, causing ink to spill on his paperwork.

So you were planning a little day trip with Miguel to help him relax. It was set in motion for Saturday morning, but as of right now you were going to cook him a meal and help him unwind.

You were at his apartment door, with Tupperware of food. When he answered, he looked like he hadn’t slept. “Amor, what are you doing here?” He ushers you inside and you kiss him on his stubbled cheek.

“I am here to feed you. You’ve been coming in late and don’t think I don’t notice. I’ve been keeping tabs on Spider-Man. You had prevented a helicopter from crashing last night.”

At the mention of that he looked pissed. “Whoa, did I say something wrong?” He shakes his head as he takes the food from you and places it in his kitchen. “No, soy sólo…promise not to get upset?”

“All depends, Miguel. What am I not getting upset about?” He sighs and he rubs his eyes. “The Green Goblin showed up last night. They had baited me, which now thinking about it I should’ve known better. And I’m lucky no one got killed. Si hubiera sabido que era una trampa, no habría seguido a ese hijo de puta.”

“Miguel, baby. I know Spanish but please english.” You tell him as you see he is really riled up. He closes his eyes and nods. “Sorry, amor. So anyways the helicopter, it was holding someone important inside or so I thought. When I had finally stopped it from falling out of the sky, I had opened the doors expecting to see the person but no, it was a note and a fucking pumpkin. Esa maldita calabaza estúpida!”

He smacks the counter making you jump because with his claws he left huge scratch marks. “W…what was on the note?” You ask him. He gives a dark chuckle. “It said, next time I won’t leave just a trick. I’ll give you a treat. I had to grab the pumpkin and throw it into the Britannia river. It was only a bomb, no toxins this time but still. How could I be so stupid!”

You walk over to him and rub his back to soothe him. “You didn’t know, but you will for next time. Alright let’s talk, what do you know about this Green Goblin? Maybe talking about it will help you calm down some and we can bounce ideas off of each other.” He nods as he leans against his counter.

“So far, all I know is that this beast has a flare for blowing things up, and they are into Halloween a little too much for me.”

“Well in my perspective, I remember them gliding on something…they could be into tech? Maybe they have a large amount of money or stole the money. They have some knowledge in toxins. And they have a flare dramatics.”

“The thing that’s bothering me the most of about this green goblin is how do they know where to strike. They always seem to attack when I’m in the area.”

“Wouldn’t that be funny if you had a secret admirer?” You joke. Miguel doesn’t even crack a smile. “Yeesh touchy crowd. How about you make some notes on this big bad, and when you’re done let’s eat. I made curry chicken, with fluffy white rice and if you’re not full, I made some sweet potato pie.”

Miguel rubs his stomach. “I’ll make the notes later. Right now let’s eat I am starving.” You pat his stomach and smile. “Alright, now when you eat make sure you don’t pass out.”

After you two were done eating, you were enjoying each others company on the couch while watching a movie. “Baby?”

“Yes, princesa?” He look over at you and you sit up. “Can I steal a bit of your morning tomorrow?” You ask as you pull the blankets over the two of you. “Of course, pero porque mi amor?”

“Well, it’s more of a gift from me to you. I know your jobs both as a scientist and hero can be stressful, so I have a secret activity for us to do. It might not be fancy but it’s calming and you can let Spider-Man get a break. How does that sound?”

“Eso suena como el cielo.” Miguel says as he pulls you onto his lap.

You nuzzle up close to him and you give a nod. “Well you better be up and at it tomorrow morning. I want to get on the road with as little traffic as possible. Do you mind if I sleep here tonight? Erica and Denis are having a date night at the apartment.”

“No need to ask, you know I love it when you sleep over. How about we get to bed? I don’t know about you but I don’t want a crook in my neck.” As you two get ready for bed, you and Miguel were in the bathroom brushing your teeth while he was washing his face. You look over at Miguel’s bare torso and frown a little.

He has so many scars and bruises you can’t help but close the distance between you two and kiss the one on his shoulder. “Just a scratch, amor. I’ll heal.” He says with a sleepy grin. “That’s not the point, Miguel. All of these scars, no wonder you’re tired. You’re practically carrying Nueva York on your back.”

“I’d carry heaven and hell on my back if it meant to keep you safe, Tommie.” He places his hand on your cheek and he kisses your forehead. You sigh because you know once he gets this way there’s no talking him out of it. “Alright princesa, it is time for bed.” He scoops you up and leads you to the bedroom.

He places you in bed and you turn off his lamp on his nightstand. Soon after he crawls into bed next to you and pulls you in close. “Have I told you how much I am in love with you, Tommie Valentine?”

“Oh this must be serious, you’re using my first and last name.” You tease as you rub your hand against another one of his bruises. “I am serious, amor. You know sometimes I think about the future. I think about us married and happy. And sometimes…I think about not being Spider-Man.”

You look at his pretty hazel eyes in the dim moonlight and rub your thumbs against his cheeks. “Whether you’re Spider-Man or just Miguel O’Hara the scientist, I would still be proud and love you…and I’d marry you.”

A huge grin breaks out across Miguel’s face. “You’d marry me?” You nod thinking why would that even be a question? “Of course, you know sometimes if I’m just sitting there, I can picture this pretty red diamond wedding ring on my finger.” Miguel was quiet for a while and you notice he was just staring at your hand.

“Mi corazón en forma humana.” He whispers. “What does that mean again?” You ask him. “I’ll tell you some other time. Now let’s get to sleep, Spider-Man is getting a day off tomorrow.” You don’t argue. Instead you lay down and close your eyes, dreaming about a wedding that you swear you’ve seen before.

•••

“Amor, where are we-watch out for that ardilla!” You swerve avoiding the squirrel and you roll your eyes. “Miguel, you act as if I can’t drive. I am an excellent driver.”

“Dile eso a los animales.” He mutters. “Hey! I heard that!” You make a turn and Miguel does a praying motion with his hands. “Where are we going? I’m asking for the sake of the animals.” Miguel asks as you drive up to an empty parking lot.

“The animals will be fine, and we are here. Come on, help me get the cooler and the poles please.” You get out of the car and Miguel grabs the cooler while you make sure the fishing poles are secured.

“I didn’t take you as the fishing type, amor.” You shrug. “I fished a lot with my mom. She said she would get her best ideas out on the water. Now the spot she’d take me is in CT, and since we aren’t there, I figured this spot would be second best.”

You walk down to the water and place the fishing poles down. “I’ll go grab the chairs.” You offer. “No need, I’ll grab them.” Miguel webs his way back to the car and when he gets back you had your hands on your hips. “Què?” He asks as he lands. “It’s Spider-Man’s day off remember? So that means no web slinging.”

Miguel looks at you and shrugs. “Forgive me, I will behave.” He sets the chairs up for you and you straighten out your jeans as you place the bait on the hooks. You hand Miguel a pole as you get yours and you cast out your line.

When you sit down you inhale the cool air and sigh. “When I was…six. I had went on this fishing trip with my parents. I was scared because my mom said when she was little she would catch fish as big as a dog. For some reason in my head I thought those fish were going to eat me. Funny I know. But I had the best time. I even caught three fish that day.” You say looking over at Miguel.

He looked like he was thinking. “The one time I went fishing it was with my sperm-father, and my little brother. That was the only day I can say I had fun with my father. We had caught this trout that was twice the size as me and Gabriel. My father had told me that if there is one thing an O’Hara can do, it’s provide for their family. Funny how he taught us that and he was still un pedazo de mierda.”

“Alright let’s not think about the past, let’s focus on catching some fi-” Miguel’s line flicks and he reels in whatever he just caught. “Alright!” He cheers as he feels in a bass. “That’s good baby, you caught something great.” You say feeling a bit jealous, because you wanted to catch something.

“I’m going to let it go. It’s a mother, I can tell from the egg sack.” Miguel gently takes the fish off of the hook and puts it back in the water.

“I can’t wait to see what you catch, amor. I bet it’ll be huge.” Miguel says with encouragement. “Yeah, huge.” You reply as you sit forward hoping for a bite. Miguel flicks out his line again and several minutes later he gets another bite.

You side eye him as he gets excited. “Come on fishes, what’s a girl to do to get a bite? At least a little nibble?” You mutter to yourself. “Amor do you need any help?”

“No, I got it. I got this. It’s just fish, fish that I haven’t caught yet.” You mutter as you wait for a bite. “I can help you, you know.” You cut your eyes at him and he looks away. “O tal vez no.”

You get a tug on your line and you reel it in. “Come to mama. Come on baby, come on.” You get the fish out of the water and your smile immediately vanishes. On your hook was the smallest fish you ever did see. “Miguel O’Hara if you laugh don’t expect me to come over your place for a week.” You say taking the tiny fish off of your hook and tossing them back. “I wasn’t going to say anything, amor.”

“But? I know you want to say but.” You ask as you get cast your line out. “But maybe I can help you out? I don’t want you to be angry. This is suppose to be relaxing.”

“I got it, just let me get a hang of this…anyways speaking of things I can’t stand, remember when I went to Trenton with Mr Stark? Well we had made a stop for his meeting with Mr D’Angelo and tell me why Dana pops up there? I don’t know about you but the girl seems obsessed.” You look over at Miguel and his jaw was clenched. “What did she say to you?”

“She was being fake, talking about how she had too many drinks, so that’s why she acted the way she did. She even apologized but I’m still calling that bullshit. Oh! She had the nerve to invite us to some event dinner for next month. But I told her that we would be unavailable.”

“You know she’s going to do everything in her power to make sure we attend, right?” You shrug. “Baby, the ancestors could say accept the invitation, we are not going.”

“Be on the look out, Dana will use her resources to make it impossible to miss this event. I wonder why she wants us there.”

“I don’t know, but the thought of her being in the same room as you makes me want to vomit. Still can’t believe you dated that snake even if it was one date.”

“Amor, please don’t remind me.” Miguel groans as you feel a large tug. “Whoa! This is a big one I can feel it.” You try to reel in the fish, but it feels like it’s going to snap the pole.

“Oh no, come on…please don’t b-” And just like that your pole snaps. You just stare in silence and when Miguel makes an attempt to speak you raise a hand. “Don’t…just please don’t.” You take the last piece of your pole and just sit in your chair.

“Am-” You raise a hand to tell him not to speak and you just dig into the cooler and grab out a peanut butter sandwich.

Miguel stabs his pole into the dirt and he stands up. He crouches down behind you and lets his chin rest on your shoulder. “Miss Valentine, are you upset?” You take a hard bite out of your sandwich. “Nope, I’m relaxing.”

“Doesn’t look that way.” You huff, eating your sandwich and he stands up and he walks so he’s standing in front of you. “Ven a sentarte conmigo.” He says as he gently pulls you up. You pout but you follow him back to his chair.

“Miguel this chair has a weight limit. It won’t hold the both of us.” You point out as he pulls you onto his lap. “Nonsense, mi amor. We will be fine. Now look out onto the calm waters and tell me what you see.”

“Water, more water and that punk ass fish that broke my fishing pole.” You tell him. He laughs at your answer and wraps his arms around you. “Well I see, calm waters. A beautiful sky, and an amazing woman with a pout on her face.”

“But the fish broke my pole.” You whine to him. “I know baby girl. And I’ll buy you another one. But for now, let’s just enjoy this moment alone. We have no interruptions, no bosses calling, it’s just you…and me.” Miguel says as he places his hands on your thighs.

“Miguel, I know I didn’t pack three poles, so what is that?” You say as you feel his dick press against your ass. “Oh I think you know what that is. And if it was a pole, then I just got a lucky catch.” He says as he kisses the side of your neck.

You position yourself on his lap so that you can feel his reaction through your jeans and you slowly start to hump him. “Niña traviesa, you just don’t care if someone catches us like this do you?” He reaches under your shirt and he pinches your nipples.

“T…then I’ll be careful.” You moan out. Miguel chuckles against your neck and he coos you as you moan a bit louder. “That’s it, make yourself feel good. Show me how you want to come.” You stop for a second and you undo your pants.

“What are you doing, amor?” He asks as you turn and pull his pants down a bit to release his hardening dick. “I’m showing you how I want to come.” You face the water as you position yourself above him and he gets a hold of your hips. “Guide it in, mi corazón.” Miguel says as you rub your clit against the head of his dick.

You ease down and once he’s inside you still. “This is good, Tommie. If…if someone comes up, it’ll look like we’re just looking at the water, instead of just fucking each other in this chair.” Miguel starts moving his hips up and you lean forward getting balance on his knees.

You really start to get into it but you two hear a car in the distance. Miguel grabs you up and he webs the two of you into a tree top. He balances you against him and a tree.

“Seems like we’re going to have some company soon. But that shouldn’t stop us from having fun, cierto mi amor?” Miguel has you balanced on a thick tree branch and you feel him grind inside of you. “M…Miguel, I s…said no Spider-man powers.” You moan out as you feel the excitement of someone possibly catching you two up in the trees.

“Oh, chingados…mi amor. Why did you clench like that? Don’t tell me you’re turned on at the thought of someone catching us? Mmm, I bet you’re imagining it now. Someone just happening to look up and see your guts being rearranged.” Miguel grips your ass as he thrusts in slow and deep, causing you to grip the tree.

“Please don’t stop. Please keep going.” Miguel slaps your ass and leans in so he’s deeper. “Say it in Spanish, mami.” Miguel says as he grips the back of your shirt. “Por favor no te detengas, Miguel.” You moan out as you look back at him.

He grabs a hold of your chin and he kisses you deeply. “La buena niña, now throw it back for daddy. Show me that you know how to fuck me back.”

You grip the tree trunk and just as he asks you throw it back on him, causing him to bite his shirt and slap your ass. He grunts and you look forward seeing two men setting up their stuff on the other side of the lake.

Miguel yanks your hair back causing a yelping moan. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not sharing, and they can’t fucking watch. You’re all mine, Tommie. All fucking mine.” He starts pounding into you quickly and you moan out that you don’t know what he’s talking about with a smirk on your face.

“Parezco estúpida? I bet you’d love for them look up right now and watch you getting fucked. They’d probably want to join but that will never happen, do you hear me?” Miguel slides out of you and he turns you around so you’re looking at him only.

He grips your throat and you feel his claws slightly dig in. You smile at him and that makes his roughly slide into you. “You love smiling? You just love fucking smiling. Te daré algo por lo que sonreír.” He lets your throat go and he takes your wrists and pins them above your head.

With his webbing he makes your wrists stay in place and he pins your legs apart, also webbing them in place. Miguel pounds deeply into you and you let out loud groan but he places a hand over your mouth. “Not fucking smiling now, are we, amor? Fuck your little cunt feels so good and tight. I might have to just breed you while we’re up here. Is that what you want, princesa? Do you want to have my babies?” He moves his hand from your mouth so you can answer him.

“Yes baby, I d…do. I want your babies, I want to have your babies.” He covers your mouth again and he pounds into you, making you feel sex drunk. “That’s too bad, when you’re my good girl, I’ll give you my babies. But for now you only get this dick deep in this little pussy. I bet it tastes good, don’t you want a taste?” You nod as your eyes roll back.

Miguel slides out of you and he balances so he’s on his knees. He spreads your pussy lips wide and he flicks his tongue fast against your clit. You jerk from his movement and you want to fuck his face, but he has you webbed down to the tree.

He shakes his head fast as he slides two fingers inside of you and you start seeing stars as you squirt. He sucks your lips and clit all together causing you to squirm and jerk. “Baby, baby…” You beg as you pull at the webbing.

He looks up at you and his ruby red eyes seem glisten with happiness. “What’s the matter, Tommie? Is this too much for you? I thought you wanted a taste?” Miguel stands up towering over you and he brings his slick wet fingers to your lips. You open your mouth and suck his fingers, moaning.

“Look at that, such an obedient lover you are. Sucking daddy’s fingers dry. But don’t worry, I’ll get something else soaked.” Before you could think, Miguel was back inside of you pounding without mercy. Your head lolls back against the tree and you feel yourself about to come again.

“No te rindas ahora, princesa. I know you can take this dick, just like those other times.” He grips the tree getting deep as he thrusts. He puts his thumb against your swollen clit and you shake as you come once more.

Miguel growls as he come deep inside of you. He kisses you on your lips and where his claws had gripped. “I’m sorry, amor. You just know how to bring the beast out of me.” Miguel uses his claws to cut you out of the webbing and you manage to pull your pants back up as you sag against him.

“I got you, Tommie.” He says as he holds you up. You both see the two men starting to pack up and leave, which was a good thing because Miguel lands with you in his arms and he sets you down.

You sit down in your chair as you catch your breathe and Miguel takes his line out of the water. “I don’t know about you but, that helped me relax.” Miguel comments. You look at him and shake your head chuckling. “You are a mess.”

“No amor, I made the mess inside of you.” That comment caused the both of you to burst out laughing. “Alright, well now that we made a mess, let’s get back to these fish. I’m going to get a big one. Just watch.” You tell Miguel as you get his pole. He simply walks over and he help you out. “How about we catch some together?” You nod at that and for the rest of the morning you and Miguel relaxed as the fish kept biting on the hook.

••••

If there was one thing you knew about your work life, you knew that Mr Stark loved to make a good impression.

When he peeked into your office, you were reading over some emails and making sure Mr Stark wasn’t double booked. “Miss Valentine?” He asks as he knocks on your door frame.

“Yes Mr Stark sir?” You look away from the computer screen for a moment. “It has come to my attention that the D’Angelo family will be hosting a dinner at Le Rose next month.”

“Yes, I heard about that. I hope you and Mrs Stark have a great time there.” You say as you type a few words down. “We will and I have been told that Mr D’Angelo’s daughter had invited you as well.” Your fingers freeze over the keys. “Yes but I won’t be able to attend. I’m sure with the paper work and it’s getting close to being our busiest part of the season.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure you can come to the dinner. This is a perfect opportunity to show the other guests that this company has what it takes for social events. I will see you there.” He says smiling as he leaves your office.

You grind your teeth so hard it’s a shock they didn’t turn into dust. You dial Miguel immediately and he answers on the third ring. “Hola amor, give me a second I’m just checking on these incubated eggs.” He puts you on hold for a second and when he gets back on the phone you let him know what’s wrong.

“So Mr Stark basically is saying I have to go to that dinner next month all because he wants to look good in front of people. Well he is going to be disappointed when I round house that girl across her head.”

“Amor, amor. Cálmate.” You look at your phone. “I am calm, Miguel, I am just venting.” You tell him as you take out some fruit snacks from your desk. “I know. I just don’t want you to burst out of your office and curse your boss out. Eso no seria buena.”

“No it’s not. I…I really don’t want to go. I feel like she’s going to make me look bad in front of you, or try to flirt with you.” You open the fruit snacks and chew on a few. “That won’t happen. If anything I’ll just put her in her place. Simple como eso, amor.”

You tsk and shake your head. “I would say that’s a good idea, but I feel like she would somehow make things worse.” You hear Miguel talking to someone in the background so you wait for him to answer. “…Well, if we’re going then, we are going to make it a night to remember.” You felt happy with his comment. “Miguel, I honestly don’t deserve you. If you were here I’d give you the biggest kiss.”

“Amor, don’t tell me that. I get to go on my lunch break in five minutes and I will web sling all the way to you just to get a kiss.” You look at watch and smirk. “Well I just so happen to be going on my break in a few, so if you’re planning on dropping by, then I wouldn’t be oppose to you web slinging by and taking me away for lunch. Maybe you’d get more than a kiss.”

“Qué obtendría?” He asks. “Oh I can’t let my secret out of the bag just yet, but just know that it’ll be worth your time, and I’d be thrilled to my knees to see you.” You tell him in a seductive tone. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hangs up and you laugh at his abruptness.

You get your things in order and you decide to time him on if he really will be web slinging to you in ten minutes.

Then again, you wanted lunch with Miguel, not Spider-man today. Plus, the office was getting more and more people stopping by these days. You call Miguel but his phone goes to voicemail. “Baby, I know you’re probably almost here, but just come up to my office as Miguel. There’s a lot of clients coming in the office today and I don’t think I want any of them witnessing Spider-man crawling through my window at high noon.” You end the voicemail and check the times. He had six more minutes, which means you can go to the vending machine and grab something to drink.

As you leave your office you walk past Bruce and he stops you. “Oh Miss Valentine, remember how I told you about my wife? And the baby?”

“Yes, I remember. Is everything okay?” You ask with concern. “Oh everything is fine. But I wanted to invite you and your husband to the baby shower. It’s being held in two weeks. My wife she’s hopeful for a boy and if it makes my wife happy then who am I to argue.”

You notice that Bruce called Miguel your husband and you don’t correct him this time. “I’m sure he would love to come with me. Is there anything you need? Diapers? Bottles? Toiletries for your wife?”

“I’ll ask her and just get to you on it. I still can’t believe I’m going to be a father.” He smiles wide and you feel happy for him. “I know you don’t want to know the gender but what do you hope she has?” You ask as you put your money into the vending machine and press L7.

“Truthfully, I want a girl. I grew up with all boys and I think a girl would be nice in the family. When are you and your husband going to have kids?” You shrug. “I’m not sure, I want to talk to him about it one day though.”

“Talk to me about what, amor?” You look down the hall and you see your pretty hazel eyed beauty walking towards you. “Bruce and his wife are expecting. So they invited us to their baby shower.” You say grabbing your snack from the vending machine.

Miguel’s eyes light up. “Congratulations Bruce, I am happy for you. Please send us the details and we will be there. Amor? I brought you something but I need to show you in your office.” Miguel says as his eyes roam your body.

“Bruce I’m on lunch so if you can, make sure no one disturbs me.” He winks at you and you lead Miguel back to your office.

Once the door is closed and locked, you pull Miguel down and kiss him. You back step until your butt bumps against your desk, and Miguel lifts you up and places you on your desk as he moves in close between your legs. “Mmm, maybe I should, web sling here more often.” Miguel says as he slides your skirt up your thighs. “I’m glad you got my message. But you should web sling to me more ofte-get these pants off, baby.” Miguel manages to get his pants down and you shimmmy out of your panties. He gives you a couple of pecks on your neck and he stops, inhaling your scent.

“Hueles tan bien, amor. Now tell me about your day, I want to hear that pretty voice.” Miguel in one swift move picks you up and he flips you onto your stomach on your desk.

He palms your ass and you bite your lips into a smile as you feel his thick dick spread your cunt open. You palm your desk and feel him pounding into you quickly. “M…m…my day, baby slow down. My day was good, until…that news…I….I told you a-Miguel, baby jus…just like that.” You moan out trying to be a bit quiet.

Miguel leans down against you and he bites at your ear. “Mmmm, I thought you liked when I fucked you fast, amor. I thought you liked when I pounded this little..greedy…pussy. Fuck, squeeze me just like that. Wh…what else happened?”

He grabs your wrists behind your back and arches in a way that hits your g spot. You almost squirt from this move but you remain focused…or try.

“I…I’m still mad about the invitation. I…don’t want to talk about D..d…d…Dana but I hate her.” Miguel lets out a moan and kisses your shoulder. “Well that’s why I’m here, amor. To help you forget about her. Maybe I can fuck the memory of her out of you.” He arches your back and you let out a moaning gasp. “Esto está ayudando, mi amor?” You nod, not being able to answer.

“Bien, now let me…tell you about my day. We…amor if you get loud you won’t hear…about my day.” You bite down on your lip as he pounds harder inside of you. You were about to see stars if he kept this up.

“…we have a development…amor, I can’t focus when your grip around me like that. Ay dios mío fuck it.” He grips your desk now and he pounds into you, not caring if you make a noise. Your desk was shaking as you feel yourself trying to stay with your feet on your tippy toes.

“Let go for me amor. I want you to make a mess on this dick. Haz un gran desastre princesa.” You hear a knock at your door but you don’t care. “Coming…” You moan out as Miguel thrusts his come inside of you. He lays on you for a moment and you turn your head slightly and kiss him.

The knocking comes to the door once more and Miguel slides out of you as you fix your clothes. Miguel webs to the ceiling and you clear your throat before opening the door.

Behind the door you see Mr Stark. “Yes sir?” You ask with a fake smile. “I know you’re on your lunch, but I heard noises coming from your office. Is everything alright?” Mr Stark asks as he peeks behind you.

“It is but I seem to be suffering with some cramps.” You hold your stomach and Mr Stark makes a face and backs away. “Oh, well make sure you take care of that. I’ll be going now.” You shut the door and lock it back.

Miguel lands in front of you and when he goes to speak, you press your finger to his lips to stop him.

“My lunch break is for another forty minutes, and you said you would fuck the memories of that woman out of me. So don’t waste your time speaking…just fuck me…”

Previously, Next

#miguel o'hara #watsittoyah #along came a spider 2099 #along came a spider #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x tommie valentine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x black reader #tommie valentine #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman smut #spiderman 2099 x female reader #across the spiderverse #marvel #oscar issac smut #oscar issac hernandez estrada

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aclue-aclue · 1 year

Note

You gotta tell me about your other host ideas! I’m curious to know if they’re descendants of Manu or just other family members with the host family?

Sorry for the delay in responding. It took a while for me to get my thoughts into words.

Would other family members.

Since the auditions for the next host were blind castings, that means there are members of the Host family of all sizes, races, ethnicities, etc, and it's so interesting to think about. A super-powered family of benevolent manchilds scattered across the globe whose mere existence makes the world a better place.

I'll say that I owe everything to this post. It changed my life.

My Headcanon is that in the Hosts family there is a tradition of passing the torch on to various things, among these things is the yellow house, the contact with the viewer and more recently the task of taking care of Blue.

I believe this family works similar to how the Madrigal family of encanto works, they each have a special "gift" based on their interests and talents. Josh with an empathetic voice, Joe with craft manipulation, and Steve with his vision of other dimensions and other relatives would likely follow the same pattern

I still need to think a bit more about the teacher and the clown but these are the ideas I have for the Librarian, the reporter and the vet so far:

The librarian is your friendly neighborhood goth who may or may not be a witch. I'm a little torn between making them a host and making her a neighbor with a pet that goes to blue school.

Their clothes are Black + dark pink and the animal that represents them are bats 🩷🖤

They are similar to Steve in demeanor, a calm-voiced dork who is prone to daydreaming.

Their special power as a host is always knowing which object will be useful for a specific situation which is good when you're a librarian/bookseller, because you will always know which book is good for a person before they even know.

Like Josh their Handy-Dandy notebook also has a phone but for some reason it's round

Their favorite holiday is Halloween, for obvious reasons.

Their main focus as a host would be teaching the viewer how many things that seem scary aren't.

The reporter is a determined woman who can appear a little intimidating from a distance but is quite kind and goofy when you get up close.

Her main color would be orange and I'm still not sure what animal would represent her. 🧡

Her Handy-Dandy notebook is also half camera and somehow it has an internet connection.

Steve is partially why she wants to be a reporter sometimes they work together to solve mysteries (the real mystery is how they are still alive).

In addition to the camera, she also has a sound recorder, she doesn't like cell phones.

She's the type to be initially quiet, but the second you start a conversation she becomes a motor mouth. She is super excited about the things she likes.

The veterinarian is the archetype of the Disney princess, delicate and adventurous, she starts singing when she's excited, and she attracts animals when she sings.

Even if she doesn't say it, Shovel and Pail are her favorites because they have similar interests.

Her favorite color is cyan. And her stuffed animal is a lovebird. 🩵

Her special host power is controlling the speed of processes. She mainly uses it to make wounds heal faster.

She's already spent three hours on a gopher hunt, she doesn't like to talk about that day.

Think of Giselle from Enchanted as a Blue Clues host and you have her.

#blue clues #blue clues oc #veterinarian #librarian #reporter #thanks for the ask!!!#sorry if it seems messy I'm not used to writing for other people #my content tag

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( SWEET MAGNOLIAS. )

He was your unlikely muse; you were the weird girl in the park. Could you make it any more obvious?

pairing. myg x named f!reader. s2l.

genre + rating. college!au. fluff, angst, smut. explicit.

tags / warnings. light cussing, yoongi being rightfully weirded out, a whole lotta softness, sadness if you squint at the right times, body painting, and then, of course, the most tender, dumbest lovemaking (unprotected but don’t be silly like them!). there’s also a really bad callback to the titanic. i’m not sorry. lol.

wc. 8.2k

You try not to stare for too long, sweeping your gaze in wide circles so as to be as inconspicuous as possible. You try not to let your eyes linger, follow the contours of his cheeks - soft, pronounced when he smiles - or the shape of his mouth - delicate, petal pink. You try not to make it weird - but it’s decidedly, very weird.

You just can’t help yourself.

He’s always here around this time, laid out on a worn red blanket. Sometimes, he reads. Books like The Alchemist and the Stranger and once, Dante’s Inferno. Other times, he pops a pair of headphones on - oversized, intimidatingly large over his ears - and closes his eyes. Most rare of all, is when he’s not alone, joined at the hip by at least one other boy and on occasion, an entire group of six.

They’re all interesting in their own ways.

There’s one with shoulders the size of boulders, a mountain range situated beneath his shirts. He has a weird laugh that sounds like windshield wipers and your mother’s spring cleaning routine. He yells a lot and even across the lawn, you can sometimes make out his voice.

There’s the tallest one, with kind eyes and dimples so deep you question if there’s treasure buried in them. He reads a lot, too. You’ve seen him in the library more times than you can count, always dutifully tucked away in a back corner surrounded by scattered looseleaf. Despite the course load he seems to have taken on, you’ve never seen him lose his cool. You have seen him lose his phone, though, and pencils and textbooks and AirPods.

There’s Hoseok, whose name you only know because he held your hair once at a fall sorority party. You hadn’t been drinking but somehow, somehow, your roommate had convinced you to apple bob with her. He’d been gracious enough to help you out, fisting your hair in a gentle grip. It’s what spurred you to now always have an elastic on your wrist.

There’s the dancer. He’s slight and even in stillness, far more graceful than you’ll ever be. He’s got pillowy lips and hair that gleams like silk. You’ve sketched him too, once or twice, but never more. It just didn’t feel right - as if you’d never be able to translate that sort of beauty onto paper.

There’s the one from your Art 340 Drawing II class. You’ve wondered, on more than one occasion, how come he isn’t the model. He’s got perfect proportions - defined jaw, strong nose, cheekbones carved from marble. It’s almost off-putting seeing him in person; it feels far more fitting for him to be displayed in a museum, with a plaque that reads Perfection, Mixed Media.

There’s the youngest one, Jungkook. They call him maknae despite the fact that he dwarfs nearly all of them. Maybe it’s just the clothes he wears: boots that look like they’d break your neck and everything in slightly darker shades of black. You run into him at least four times a week - trading greetings at the campus coffee shop and at the library. You’re practically best pals by college standards.

And then, of course, there’s him. Your muse. The one you can’t help but stare at - even when you’re trying your hardest not to. The one who wears glasses though you’re almost certain he doesn’t need them. The one whose smile is more gums than teeth, who looks unassuming and yet often breaks out into the strangest, most inspired dance moves you’ve ever seen. The one who plays recreational basketball on Tuesday nights and who drinks more coffee than you think should be humanly possible.

Min Yoongi.

You sketch him like you’ll never see him again, dragging charcoal strokes across paper until your hand is muddied and the curve of his ear is looking worse for wear. You repeat lines over and over, turning the mop of his hair into ringlets and waves, weaving dimension through the india ink that spills over his eyes. You sometimes add his glasses; you’re quite fond of the look on him.

You paint him sometimes, too, imagining how he’d look with periwinkle blue hair, or maybe dressed in shades of maroon. You swath him in textured fabrics and lovely watercolours, turning him into a fantasy that’ll never see the light of day. Pretty little daydreams with him fixed at the centre.

You fill your pages with his figure, the way he smiles when Hoseok does something silly or how he joins in when Jungkook laughs. You study every bit and piece, learning him in every admiring way you can - despite the fact that you don’t really know him at all.

It’s a staggering lesson in futility but one you take almost daily, armed with pencil and paper and not a single ounce of common sense.

That is, until you’ve done the stupidest thing imaginable.

No, not getting caught. Not in the traditional sense, at least. He hasn’t realised you sit on your bench - yes, your bench, with the sticky metal arm rest and illegible initials scratched into the back - and watch him almost every day. You thank your lucky stars for that.

What you’ve done is much worse - punishable by death by embarrassment.

You have no fucking clue where your sketchbook is.

You could’ve sworn you had it in your bag when you’d returned to your room last night. You can’t imagine you would’ve left it anywhere in the open, orphaning it on a campus full of idiots. You were always so careful. You don’t just lose things.

“I think it’s gone, girl.” You’ve never wanted to yell at your roommate more - not even when you’d caught her and her boyfriend banging in your bed after you’d come home early on the long weekend or when she’d eaten all of your Cherry Garcia ice cream. The desire bubbles about in your chest, fizzing angrily like an agitated soda bottle.

“It’s here somewhere.” The words grit between your teeth, insistent as can be.

“You’ve been looking for like, twenty minutes.”

“It’s here.”

“I really don’t think it is…” Jisoo doesn’t quite deserve how you explode, rounding on her with hands flying and eyes wild. “You’re also going to be late for your class.”

Your words falter with the verbalisation of hers.

Lucky for her; unlucky for you.

The hands of the clock above your desk wave at you mockingly. You are, indeed, going to be late for your class.

“Shit! Shit!” Everything you’d torn out gets shoved back into your tote bag. Band-Aids, mints, too many wayward pencils and pens. You almost forget your phone, attention only drawn to it when Jisoo catches the strap of your backpack and yanks you back.

“Don’t forget,” she hums, far more kindly than your harebrained self deserves.

You forget all the reasons you’re upset with her. “Thanks, Ji.” You force a kiss on her cheek before you’re darting out of your room and sprinting across campus to Art 340.

“Nice of you to join us, Miru.” It’s your professor greeting you as you run in fifteen minutes late, weaving through other students to find your seat near the far wall. Laughter follows you, coiling around your ankles and over your shoulders as you settle into your seat, fully hidden behind the oversized easel.

You can’t help the scarlet that paints your cheeks, creeping high across your temples. You know no one cares - that Professor Kinsella is probably the most laidback professor you’ve had in your four semesters - but it can’t be stopped. You’re already flustered from temporarily misplacing your sketchbook that everything else just feels like shit icing on your garbage cake.

“Sorry!” It squeaks out - a mouse, eaten up wholly by cat-ate-the-canary laughter that sounds over your shoulder and not very quietly.

“Having a bad day?”

You’ve heard the voice a handful of times so it shouldn’t shock you the way it does, nearly knocking the graphite from your hand.

“What?”

Kim Taehyung’s on the edge of his chair, one long leg stretched toward you, the other balanced across his knee. You’re not sure how that’s meant to be comfortable but he makes it look effortless. Then again, looking like him, living probably was effortlessly. You can’t deny you’re a little envious.

“Your face is all red. You’re out of breath. Feels like a bad day to me.”

You try not to dwell on the fact that, apparently, you look like an absolute mess. “No, I’m good.” It sounds fake even to your ears, tinny and wrought with anxiety.

“You sure?” He’s not really paying attention to you as he speaks, tracing the contours of the model across his canvas. He begins where you’d never think to, framing the main masses with a languid twist of his wrist. Unlike you, he doesn’t get caught up in the detail; he sees the bigger picture for all it is, building from the outside in.

You’re watching him for longer than you realise, whipping back around once it dawns on you. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Who knows.” There’s a playfulness in his tone that sets you on edge. You’ve never heard it before, all rounded vowels and molasses laughter. You mean to work as you listen, waiting for some indication of whatever lies just beneath the surface.

It’s a mistake. Your stick of charcoal snaps in half when he continues, low and slow as if he’s dragging it out.

“—maybe you lost a sketchbook?”

“Did you say…” You can’t finish the sentence. You feel like you’re about to be sick.

The amount of mischief in his expression should be illegal. It’s dancing in his eyes, curling wide and unabashed over his lips. It’s practically radiating off of him.

“So, bad day?”

He waits for you to pack up, hands tucked into the endless pockets of his black slacks. At any other time, in any other universe, you’d be giddy. Girls on campus would kill for even a second of Taehyung’s attention.

(It’s true - you’d heard a group of them talking about it one time.)

Here and now, you want to sink six feet under.

“They’re really good, you know.” As if the compliment will dull the mortification that threatens to cleave you in half. “You’re really good at capturing his boredom. That’s not easy.”

“Thanks.” You should make conversation; it’s the polite thing to do.

After all, he was kind enough to find and return your sketchbook. Better him than someone else, right? Better him than Yoongi himself? That’s what you tell yourself, at least.

Yoongi doesn’t know and therefore, it’s okay. Semi okay. Distantly related to the idea of okay.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung speaks gently, with a hand that burns through the linen of your blouse. You know he means well but it sears white hot, eviscerating your nerve endings. “You have nothing to worry about. I didn’t tell him.”

You don’t answer him. There’s nothing to say - not really. You’re far too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge the effort he’s making. Maybe this was life’s way of telling you to back off - to find another person to paint.

Or maybe it’s brought you two together, says the silly, naive angel on your shoulder.

You’re ready to flick her off - launch her like some kind of poor Tinkerbell - when your name catches your attention. It’s announced so dramatically that you double take, making sure you haven’t completely run through a picnic or accidentally slammed into someone.

“This is Miru.”

Cognisance comes slow and unhurried, even as your stare swivels wildly in search of context clues.

Laid out before you, right under that familiar magnolia tree, is one blanket, three bodies, and enough takeout to last you an entire week.

“Ohf, phey!” With cheeks stuffed full, it’s hard to make out the two syllables. They crowd against each other, offered in a garbled mess that has you regarding Jungkook with a mixture of concern and confusion. He’s swallowing thickly before he rises far too quickly; you watch a forgotten piece of kimbap go flying, lost to the dirt and bugs. “Sorry. Hi.”

“Do you want to join us?” It’s the angelic one, fitted with cherubic cheeks and a rounded Cupid’s bow. “I’m Jimin, by the way.” He pats the empty space beside him, eyes waning into crescents with the force of his friendliness.

Taehyung had asked if you wanted to grab dinner but you’d never imagined he meant this.

You’ve never been subtle but you try your damnedest to peek at him from your periphery. Unfortunately for you, he’s already sat down, fully made himself comfortable beside the last member of the group.

The one who, for all intents and purposes, appears as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. If looks could kill, you think.

“Don’t worry about him,” Jimin says, so sweetly, with a small bento lid held towards you. It’s already stacked with goodies - a selection of banchan and homemade-looking meatballs sitting alongside a poorly-shaped mound of rice. “Sometimes, he gets like this.”

You want to believe it. Really, you do, but by the way Yoongi’s mouth curls in distaste, all signs point to it being a matter of you rather than a mood.

“Maybe if she respected peoples’ privacy, I wouldn’t have an issue.”

It’s a single sentence quietly spoken and yet it feels like an open-palm slap to the face. Heat radiates over every visible inch, starkly coloured in contrast to the white of your top. It burns as it licks over your cheeks and past your temples, tipping your ears.

“I’m so sorry.” It isn’t clear who you’re apologizing to, the words tumbling wet off your tongue like a waterfall.

You’re gone before anyone can ask.

“That was a dick move.” Jungkook is the first to break the silence, levelling his friend with a disapproving stare. He’s not used to this side of him - the one that can tear a person apart with just a few words. It’s not the Yoongi he knows. It’s not really Yoongi at all.

“Yeah, hyung.” It’s thinner, but just as reproachful. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Yoongi’s laugh is dismissive but he won’t meet anyone’s stare - a tell-tale sign that he’s just a little affected by their words - choosing instead to shovel bites of soondae into his mouth. “Mean what? Invading my privacy?”

“She’s an artist.” Taehyung doesn’t mean it as an excuse but by how Yoongi bristles, he’s certain the senior takes it as such. Before the argument can begin, he continues, all while wrapping a piece of samgyupsal in lettuce. “I doubt she meant any harm, so just cut her some slack.” Fringe is flicked away from his eyes, something sparkling in the pretty brown of his irises. “I’d actually be flattered, if I were you.”

“Then you be her model.”

You haven’t drawn in four days. Well, not really.

You’ve completed what you need for classes, filling your books with mandatory figures and notes on colour theory. You’ve diligently mapped out proportions and brought to life sunsets and sceneries. You’ve done everything you should be doing but nothing that you want to be.

It just doesn’t feel right. Not anymore.

“I hear he’s a really nice guy.” You can’t count how many times Jisoo has tried to cheer you up. From picking up your favourite ice cream (the one she tends to devour anyway) to ordering in fried chicken, she’s been the picture perfect roommate. It only makes you feel that much worse.

You were moping over something that was your fault. And she had to pick up the pieces! It seemed wildly unfair but when you’d told her to stop - insisted upon it with a wail into your pillow - she’d simply shook her head and wrapped you in her arms.

For all of your stupid, silly little rows, Kang Jisoo was the best roommate you’d had in your entire university career.

“Just go outside.” She’s perched on the edge of her bed, painting her toes a brilliant shade of neon green. She’d offered to do yours too, but you’ve more or less refused to leave the comfort of your burrito blanket for anything beyond classes or food. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I can try,” you mumble, words lost to the cotton of your sheets.

Try - and fail, it seemed. You’d already run into him twice. Twice! Even after you’d started taking absurdly long roundabout routes to your classes, the universe had conspired against you.

The first time he’d been walking out of the gym, shoulder to shoulder with another upperclassmen you didn’t recognize. You’d seen him coming from a mile away thanks to his obnoxiously bright Lakers jersey and you’d booked it back the way you’d come, nearly mowing down a couple making kissy faces at each other in front of the lecture hall.

The second time was yesterday afternoon. You’d thought he’d be in his usual spot - so close to your usual spot - that you’d gone to the coffee shop for a midday pick-me-up. Even embarrassed, you weren’t about to suffer a caffeine deficiency. You’d rounded the corner in the same instance he had and you’d sworn he’d seen you, recognition flickering across his face. Fortunately, there’d been a door directly to your right and you’d all but thrown yourself inside.

It was the first and hopefully last time you’d be in a men’s washroom.

“I thought you were tougher than this,” Jisoo hums, equal parts disapproval and kindness. She levels you with a stare - you can feel it burning into your fortress of blankets - and sighs. It’s a bit dramatic, you think.

“Tell me you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing!”

Then again, she’d probably never be stupid enough to lose something so important nor would she fixate so heavily on one person. Your point still stands.

“Seriously, girl.”

Her nail polish bottle bounces off your bed, tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump. You look up in time to see her staring at you imploringly, so wide-eyed and innocent you can’t help but be a little suspicious. “What?”

“I wanted to have Andy over.”

It all falls into place then. Her boyfriend’s in a frat and your (poor) dorm room is the only place they have any sort of privacy. It makes you want to gag but you can’t blame her. You’ve always had an unspoken agreement; you’d just tossed it out the window the past few days.

Guilt prompts you to extract yourself from your duvet, though you don’t stop the chorus of gross, gross, gross! as you begin gathering your things. You almost leave your sketchbook, only opting to tuck it under your arm at the last minute.

“Please, please, don’t use my bed this time.”

“We love you!” She sing-songs as you tug your sneakers on and slip into the hallway.

You’re at a different bench across campus when you hear the voice. It comes from behind you and to your left, accusatory and sharp. You nearly jump out of your own skin, toppling over your water bottle and plastic paint palette. Orange watercolour soaks into the material on your thigh. Dammit.

“Are you following me?”

Min Yoongi stands not three feet from you, arms folded over his chest.

Your heart stutters at the sight of him. It’s hard to speak when it feels like it’s leapt into your throat.

“What?” You hate how you sound - a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You have nothing to be ashamed of. At least, not right now. You’d come all the way here, as far from the magnolia tree and red blanket as you could.

“I said—” His words are glacial and biting. It’s suddenly winter, far chillier than spring should be. You wish you’d brought a sweater or maybe, that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You can’t be cold when you’re dead. “—are you following me?”

“Of course not!”

There’s nothing but disbelief in his expression. It paints itself in broad strokes, prominent in the shadows beneath his eyes and the curl of his mouth. He says nothing.

“Really. I’m not.” You’re insistent, apologetic. Every nerve ending is shot, going haywire beneath your skin and lighting you up in shades of red. The tips of your fingers are tingling. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You wonder if he’s baiting you now.

“For…” Words are cherry-picked and perfect, chosen with a shaking head and the utmost care. “I shouldn’t have drawn you without asking.”

“No shit,” he returns, completely deadpan. He’s really not making this any easier.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” you continue, a little hopeful and a lot bashful. “I just— I don’t get inspiration like this that often. So I couldn’t let it go.” You don’t need to add what you do, but you do so anyway, because you’ve never been great at making good choices. “Your face is really unique and when you’re happy, it’s just so expressive and your smile is—”

There’s a siren blaring in your ears. A red alert going off so loudly you almost miss the way he laughs.

It’s not the same one he offers to his best friends - far more reserved, exceedingly softer - but it’s there and it’s real and you don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment.

“You’re laughing.”

He stops immediately. Fair.

“I’m sorry.” Again. More. Draped in apology and optimism that peeks out between your teeth and shines in the dark of your stare. “Even though I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I did, and for that I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

It’s hard to read him, even after you’ve spent hours studying his face. There’s a distinct difference between seeing someone and knowing them, you realize. You might be able to map out every wrinkle of his eyes - replicate every dot and freckle - but you have no idea what it all means or how it comes together to create something more.

Silence fits between the two of you for what feels like a long time. It’s not uncomfortable, though, so you allow it to settle. You figure it’s better than his anger, in any case.

“You could’ve just asked me.”

You can’t wipe the disbelief from your face. “Would you have said yes?”

Yoongi shrugs, a small roll of his shoulders beneath the oversized sweater that dwarfs his frame. “Don’t know, but I would’ve appreciated it.”

Because that’s really what it came down to - the thought, not the action. He’s not entirely sure you understand that yet but he’s willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Blame his softening on the steady repetitions Taehyung and Jungkook have made the past few days. You were lucky to have them in your corner - even if that meant they’d been a thorn in his side.

“Then… can I sketch you?” You’re probably (read: definitely) pushing it. You can’t help it.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scoff at your audacity. He decides on the former, with a shake of his head that swings his bangs across his forehead and a small, private smile. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” You imagine he can’t hear you as he’s backing away and disappearing the way he came.

“See you tomorrow.”

True to his word, Yoongi lets you draw him the next time you see him (and the next time and the time after that).

It’s different - working off someone who knows they’re being studied. He holds himself a little more stiffly, a little more carefully. His laughter isn’t quite as loud, his smiles more forced. He apologises, even though he doesn’t need to.

Even his untrained eye can see how you struggle to bring life to a robot.

Over time, though, it comes - comfort.

Like the quietly burning coals that melt him down from the inside out, he begins to warm up to you. It comes slowly but it comes nonetheless, as steady as the sun. You appreciate his effort - his patience - more than you can ever say.

You know he gets it, though. He always does. It’s a Yoongi thing.

“You can relax.”

It’s just the two of you, swathed in sweat and waning light that casts shadows across his cheeks. The days are longer than they’ve ever been and the both of you tend to lose track of time, spending hours under that magnolia tree.

“I am relaxed,” he returns, sinking further onto his back, elbows hardly acting to prop him up. He’d been engrossed in a novel for the first half of the afternoon. Another book you’d never bothered to read outside of high school English class. You never really understood it - you much preferred to watch than read - but you loved when he’d recite the words to you, clear and bright and better than any melody.

“You’re trying to stay awake.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No. You’re just as good of a model when you’re sleeping.”

The smile is lazy, hazy like Sunday morning. It reveals his gums and ticks higher on the left side. It makes your heart skip a beat.

“Go ahead then,” he continues. The entirety of his body sags, drops onto the bag he likes to use as a makeshift pillow. You don’t imagine it’s all that comfortable but he never complains.

“If you’re tired, we can just head in, you know.”

You always offer. He never says yes.

A part of you thinks he likes the attention. It’s different from what he receives from anyone else - thoughtful and careful. You think he might like the quiet, too. The benefit of quality time without any of the effort.

So you push on, charcoal edge meeting paper once more. “Just another twenty minutes.”

“Why me?”

The enquiry comes one day, completely out of the blue. It skips your heart and breaks the pastel in your fingers, dust chalking them a lovely shade of lilac.

“What?” You’re not ready for how close Yoongi is - much closer than he ever is - and you shift back, away from the face you’ve spent months filling your sketchbooks with. “Why you what?”

He’s completely nonchalant as he moves even closer.

You can smell his cologne - a distinctly masculine fragrance that’s musk and cedar - and the coffee he’s been nursing for the last hour. It fills your senses, recentring all of your focus so intensely that you don’t immediately recognise he’s continued speaking.

“Why’d you choose to draw me? Why not someone else?” He seems genuinely curious, even though it feels dangerous - a dangling string that’s meant to unravel you.

The answer doesn’t come easily, despite the fact it’s something you’ve asked yourself.

Why him? Why Min Yoongi?

“I don’t know,” you answer, perhaps too honestly. “I saw you and it sort of… just clicked.” How it sounds doesn’t escape you - like something plucked out of a bad romance novel. “I didn’t expect it to be you. I thought I’d draw you once - okay, twice - and then I’d move onto another subject. But I just… couldn’t?”

“So, what you’re telling me is it was love at first sight?” It’s glaringly obvious he’s teasing you. He’s got that grin of his, sly and feline as it creeps across his mouth.

You don’t bristle, instead painted bright red like the sunset that streaks across the sky.

“I— I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say otherwise.”

It’s an uncomfortable line of questioning. You’re not used to it and certainly not from him. You hesitate to speak, turning words over and over on your tongue in an effort to make yourself clear.

You’re not weird. You don’t want this to be weird. But you can’t deny - it’s, decidedly, still very weird.

He tries again - a different tactic this time. One that surprises you, despite the unique friendship you’ve forged over the past few months. “What if I told you I was glad?”

“Glad?” It feels like an echo chamber. Repetition. As if you’re going in circles, chasing a tail that remains just out of reach. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What if I told you I’m happy we met?”

Your blink is owlish, fully caught off-guard. “I’d say the same thing. I’m happy we’re friends.”

Amusement rolls off him in waves, evidenced by the laugh that curls into the afternoon. He shimmies closer and closer until there’s barely three inches between you. His knee knocks against yours, bony and denim-clad. You try to ignore the way it burns through your own jeans, sparking heat all the way up to the tips of your ears and down into the soles of your feet.

“What if I told you I don’t want to be just friends anymore?”

It’s not a surprise, really. It’s something that’s been on your mind the past few weeks, sown by offhand comments and little gestures you haven’t been able to ignore. Jungkook had even practically shouted it at you just the other night.

“I’d say…” You trail off, lost somewhere among the constellations in his eyes.

“You’d say?” The words are parroted back at you, threaded together by gossamer thin hope.

“I’d say you’re welcome. For choosing you.” The confidence isn’t your own. It comes from him, crafted by the support he offers easily, hands out like keys. Keys to his heart, you realise belatedly, with a sudden bashfulness. Of course.

He can’t wipe the smile from his face. It eats up every inch, dominating even the playfulness that shines through, turning it the prettiest shade. It stands bright against his cheeks, staining the pale apples red. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You’re suddenly very determined - because you want to give this to him. Just as he’s given you everything you wanted, you want to do the same. In this little cut-out piece of paradise, there’s nothing quite as important.

The one word isn’t much but it feels like a turning point. “Yes.”

“You want me to say ‘yes’?”

He nods, just once. There’s so much certainty you can’t doubt him.

“Then yes—”

It doesn’t matter what you’ve just said yes to. It doesn’t even matter that it could be something awful or really, anything under the sun. All that matters is the feeling of his lips, soft and warm and dry on yours. It’s better than any painting you’ve ever seen, any song you’ve ever heard. It fills you wholly, stuttering your heart and bubbling giddiness in the pit of your stomach.

You probably sound a little silly, surprisingly breathless from such a little thing. “Wow.”

“Good things happen when you ask,” he states, solemnly. You’d take him more seriously if he weren’t so dopey, grinning at you like he never has before.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Luckily, you don’t mind. Not if it gets you another kiss.

You tell him as much and he happily obliges, stealing your breath and replacing it with sugar-coated stardust. You ponder whether you might be able to create with those same particles, turning them into colourful streaks to paint his cheeks. You’d like to find out.

You want a lot of things with Min Yoongi, you decide.

You don’t know how you ended up here.

Actually, that’s a lie. You do. All because of a dumb joke, uttered in passing by Taehyung and now ingrained so deeply in your psyche that you haven’t gone a single day without thinking about it.

“Get out of there,” he whispers right against your temple, lips following to soothe whatever’s got you preoccupied.

“Where?”

“Right there, idiot.” Fingers tap twice, a quick one-two against the side of your head.

You can’t help but grimace, a wrinkling of your nose that your boyfriend chuckles at, pressing kisses across the bridge and over your cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry - just come back to me.” To this moment, he means.

This strange little scene, with his fingers dressed in non-toxic paint and you stripped down to nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and thong.

Have him paint you like one of his French girls, Taehyung had said. It’ll be fun, he’d said.

You think it might be - if you weren’t bouncing with nerves, all five feet three inches of you fizzling with anticipation. Yoongi was only painting you. This was a bonding exercise. Something to bring you closer, to breach the gap between lovestruck artist and inspired musician. Nothing more.

“You’re beautiful, you know.” It’s not meant to be a reassurance but simply a passing comment, like looking at the sky or seeing it snow. So straightforward it makes you laugh, the sound bubbling about in your throat.

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“No, seriously.” He levels you with a look. You know the one - a touch stern but ultimately playful. “I wanted to make something beautiful but…” Digits wiggle, Atlantic blue sweeping over the tips and up his knuckles like the sea. “I can’t really improve on something that’s already perfect.”

Your cheeks light on fire, as brilliantly coloured as the red in his - your - palette.

He thinks it looks pretty against his hands. The same ones that cradle your cheek, so precisely you want to remind him you’re a canvas and not clay.

“You’re silly.”

“ You’re silly,” he returns, as if that’ll somehow win him this battle of wits.

The roll of your eyes is undeniable. “Good one.”

“You know, I’ve got a ton of paint, right? Not your best choice, making fun of me.” He punctuates each word with passes of his fingers. Colour appears wherever he travels, dragged over your skin with dreamy twists of his wrist. A line here, a circle there. Goosebumps follow in their wake despite the fact that his touch is like candle wax - soothing and deliberate.

You wonder, idly, whether he can feel you burning up beneath him.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs again, almost to himself as he dips his fingers into another dot of paint. Pink this time - in the same shade as the magnolias outside. He spreads the colour over your chest, right where your heart beats an erratic rhythm.

He takes his time in admiring his handiwork, swirling the two shades together until it’s the most flattering shade of purple.

You try - and fail - to ignore the way it stirs something behind your ribs. A need that flickers to life without any sort of warning and has you pressing your thighs together.

“Can I take this off?” It comes abruptly, with eyes that snap up to yours. There’s already a hand tucked beneath the small of your back, right under your shoulders. He already knows your answer - can see it in the blown out pupils that reflect his entire world back at him. He still wants to hear it.

You’re unable to find your voice. It’s gone, stolen by the way he ghosts his fingers up and down the sensitive notches of your spine. You could get lost in this feeling, if he let you. You almost do, only nodding when he moves no further, flat of his palm a solid weight right against the clasp of your bra.

You don’t mind that the band is coloured pink and blue when he tosses it aside. You don’t have it in you to focus on anything but how he studies you now. Openly admires you, like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

“What?” Mellifluous and adoring. Music to his ears.

“I think I’m getting distracted.”

“I think so, too.”

“Is that okay?” He speaks more to your boobs than you, single stained hand coming to rest across your ribs. The pad of his thumb swipes over a single bud, perked and already far too sensitive. He’d put his mouth on it, if not for the fact it’s now covered in paint.

Fortunately, there’s still so much of you - places he hasn’t explored but suddenly, desperately needs to.

From the column of your throat and all the way down to the valley of your breasts, he offers sweet kisses. Open-mouthed adoration that leaves you needy and breathless and writing. He catches your untouched nipple between his teeth, gently working it into the same state as its tinted twin.

You shift beneath him, unable to stop the bolt of electricity that rips through you like a thousand volts. It cracks your composure like lightning and sends your pulse racing like thunder. “Of course.”

He hums, content, and nearly falls, dropping his cheek fully against your chest. You’re so soft beneath him, velvet and pliant under his tongue.

“I think I love you.” It’s his voice but your words, spoken so faintly you almost miss it against the roaring in your ears.

“I think I love you, too.”

Yoongi stares up at you then, so full of wonder that you can’t help but look away. It’s an incredibly intimate moment - so much emotion carried in one simple look that you’re not quite sure how to process it. He’d been your inspiration and now you were his. The realisation is almost too much, filling you until you feel like you might float away.

His hands act as an anchor, keeping you here with him.

“You don’t have to say it back.” It’s careful, loaded with his heart and every key to open it.

“I know - I want to.”

He grins so breathlessly handsome that you can’t help but return it, rubied cheeks crystallised with delight. Those same paint-stained hands of his find their newly discovered favourite home of your chest and he sounds like sin when he speaks. “I want you.”

“You can have me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s ducking down and smothering every uncovered inch of you in sweetness. His mouth burns hot but he’s unbearably gentle, searing the shape of his mouth over your breasts and across your collarbone. He licks and sucks as he goes, soothing any ache left behind by the edge of his teeth.

You’re not quite sure where the bites end and the paint begins. It’s all so pretty you don’t mind either way.

But it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, you think, even as you whine airily, words stuttering out in a half-formed breath. “Please touch me.”

“Where?” He’s hardly given you room to answer, crowded so closely against you that you can feel his heartbeat all the way through to your own. He’s so warm - so solid - upon you that you almost want to tell him that here, just as he is, is perfect.

A momentary lapse in lust before rational judgment is clouded yet again.

Instead - and with more demand than you mean - you grind purposefully against him. A benefit to having him sitting how he is, knees hooked on either side of your hips. He can’t pretend like he doesn’t feel it, cock twitching beneath the constraints of his boxer-briefs.

Your eyes meet and he chuckles, nuzzling his head back into that spot between your neck and shoulder that has you whimpering. The sound alone drives him crazy.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Yoongi knows this like he knows the sky is blue or your smile is his favourite sight.

You’re teasing him when you catch his face, palms cradling the shape of his jaw. “Then it’ll be a good death.”

He doesn’t disagree - especially when he slips his clean hand along the length of your body. He tweaks your nipple on its descent, tickles the underside of your ribs, and then finds the band of your underwear, all in one fell swoop. A digit dips below the elastic, neatly clipped nail grazing the jut of your hip before shifting and dropping further.

You keen when the pad of his finger grazes your clit.

“Do that again.” He doesn’t need to tell you twice. When he repeats the motion, the sound spills off your tongue without restraint.

He slips further down, pressing his hand to gently part your folds. Digits glide easily, coated in slick that drips between your legs and sorely tests his patience. Yoongi’s not sure what he’d expected but this is so much better it’s making his head spin - and he hasn’t even felt you yet.

“You’re so wet, love.” Shame would swallow you whole if not for the way he speaks with reverence. “How badly do you want this?”

“Don’t tease,” you huff, rutting uselessly against the fingers that tease your centre, barely slipping in before resuming a lazy, leisurely path back up to the bundle of nerves that throbs at the contact. He’s hardly touched you and you’re already at a six, entire body alight with need that thrums heavy in your veins.

“Just tell me.”

“I want this. I need this.” You hope he believes you. You’re not sure what you’ll do if he doesn’t. “I need to feel you - please.”

His entire world is spinning, kicked on its axis by the way your tone pitches, demands and begs in the same lilting voice he so adores but has never quite heard like this. He loves it. “I need to stretch you out. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whine so prettily he almost cracks. It’s enough to have him choking on his own words, not that he’s saying anything. He’s too focused on how he sinks into you - a single digit but so tightly it feels like there’s no way he’ll survive his cock buried inside.

You’re a dream come true. He never wants to wake up.

“More. Please.” You’re so polite, he almost laughs. You’d really taken his words to heart - always asking for what you wanted now. He can’t deny how proud he is. It blossoms in his chest, juxtaposed greatly against the salaciousness that drives him to do exactly as you ask.

His index finger slips in alongside the other. You make that noise he loves, grinding your core against the flat of his palm as he curls his knuckles and seeks out that spot. He knows he’s struck gold when he taps it experimentally, pressure turning light but unrelenting when a choked cry ricochets off your tongue and onto his sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Right there?”

Your nod is enough of an answer.

He redoubles his efforts, fucking you with measured glides of his fingers and precise presses against your g-spot. In no time at all, you’re barely coherent, mumbling his name in a slew of breaths that has him grinning. You’re a sight to behold, moaning so obscenely you’d be ashamed you weren’t so preoccupied by the fact that every part of you feels as if it’s about to splinter.

“Miru— Princess—” Your clit aches and you nearly shriek when he applies pressure against it with the pad of his thumb, swiping your cum over it in slow circles. He wants you so badly - just as bad as you want him- but he’s torn halfway between watching you unravel by his hand and wanting that same euphoria when he’s buried home in your dripping pussy.

“Please, please, please.” There are tears in your eyes. You’re so close you can practically taste it, entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the coil from snapping. “Yoongi, please.”

He’s a fucking goner then, filling you with a third finger and grinding his palm against your clit as you come apart beneath him.

It starts in your toes, stealing feeling all the way up your calves and over your thighs. You’re only aware you’re trembling because it vibrates through Yoongi’s body, looped back to yours when he mouths across your shoulders, sucking memories into your heated, sweat-sweet skin. The stimulation is what keeps you from floating off on a cloud of bliss, the warmth in the pit of your stomach liquifying your bones.

“Are you tired?” Because you certainly look tired - too fucked out to properly meet his stare as he looms over you, both hands adjusted to rest comfortably over your hips.

You are, but it doesn't matter. You haven’t gotten what you wanted - not really - and you aren’t about to let it go without asking.

He’d taught you that.

You smile up at him, doe-eyed and alluring. A hand reaches for his, curls around the fingers still glossy with your slick, and squeezes. “I still need you.”

They’re words he’ll never tire of - also words that have him kicking out of his briefs and rolling your thong down your legs, all too eager. He’s painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and purple at the tip, but he fists himself in slow, measured pumps regardless. It’s a show for you, more than anything.

“ Please.” So pretty, so ready. He can’t resist.

Yoongi sinks against you, the head of his cock brushing through your folds as he slots himself into place with his paint-free hand. The other, still coloured garishly bright, brushes the curve of your lip, the delicate skin beneath your eye. It’s so tender you can’t help but blink, caught off-guard.

“I love you,” you say, though you’re sure he’s meant to, too. You can read it in his eyes - brilliant and bright like a beacon in the night.

He speaks with a roguish grin and a fluid press of his hips. “I know.”

You fit like two puzzle pieces, the stretch perfect as he sinks deeper, a low groan sounding from somewhere deep in his chest. You’re so tight around him but he glides in easily, coaxed to fill you by your wetness and the soft, whiny noises you make.

“Holy shit,” he manages once he’s buried as deep as he can go, head spinning with the way you clench around him, nearly stealing the words off his tongue. “Am I dreaming?”

Laughter is a salve - a catch-all remedy for anything that ails him. It pulls him to the here and now, drawing his attention from the overwhelming bliss that creeps up his spine and recentring it on you, beautiful and bashful beneath him.

“No, you’re not.” It’s a caricature of your voice but he doesn’t mind. He loves that he can bring you to this.

“Thank God.”

Except it’s not God you’re thanking when Yoongi begins to move against you, dragging his cock through your walls with such slow, measured strokes you think you might combust. It’s his name when he pulls almost fully out of you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, before snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt. It’s his name that rolls off your tongue like a mantra, hoping and praying and begging for more as he consumes you wholly, in no half measures.

It’s him - Min Yoongi, your muse, your love - that has you crying out, pleasure coursing through your veins as he adjusts and fills you at a completely new angle, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust of his hips.

“Yoongi - please.” You’re chanting the two words again, turning them into a song he’ll never get out of his head, when you spasm around him. His eyes nearly roll back into his head, the sensation turning his rhythm sloppy as he chases the same high. The hand that had previously been propping him up falls, thumb seeking out your clit as he charges toward the precipice.

“One more, love. Once more for me, okay? I want you to come with me.”

He asks so nicely you can’t deny him - even as the overstimulation takes over. You’re shaking so badly you’re not sure how he keeps you in place; it’s a tremor that won’t stop, traipsing over every limb until you’re sobbing.

“I love you,” he chokes out as he tumbles over the edge, falling headlong into climax with you in tow. It’s so strong it feels like it blinds you, spotting your vision with white as he fills you with his cum and continues to fuck you through it, milking every last moment just like you were his slowly softening cock.

You don’t have it in you to answer, far too exhausted by the last orgasm that has your limbs turned to jelly. Yoongi doesn’t mind though; he likes the just-fucked afterglow and how you sink into his arms when he slips out of you and onto his side.

He eyes the cum that spills onto your thighs, pearlescent and going to waste. He has half a mind to push it back where it belongs.

He only doesn’t because of the words you speak next, hardly above a whisper but loud enough that he groans, burying his face into your hair. “So, thanks, Taehyung?”

“Can you not?” It’s a playful response, with teeth bared against the sweat-slicked nape of your neck.

“Sorry.” A beat. He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep suddenly. “I meant thanks, Titanic.”

author note. this was a drabble prompt i got from the lovely @hecticwonderer and i kind of just... ran with it. oops.

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inhanf-archived · 4 years

Text

11. ovipositor

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Squares/Prompts used:

#kinktober2020: 11. ovipositor

Warnings: Smut adjacent

Pairing/s: Emily Prentiss x Reader x Spencer Reid

Authors Note: I've never used an ovipositor before but I did some research. I mean absolutely no judgement on anybody who used these toys or partakes in this fetish, the reactions of the characters in this story are based in humour as a coping mechanism. I don't think they would judge anyone for this either and I hope it doesn't read that way.The G'lorp is a real toy, it can be found here.

Word count: 1640 AO3

You could hear them laughing before the key even entered the door, a rare and welcome sound when your partners were returning from a case. Padding softly to the kitchen to put on the kettle you were pleased to see their smiling faces join you moments later. ‘Good result?’ You enquired, setting up three mugs. ‘Eh, entertaining, let’s say that instead.’ Emily half grimaced and embraced you from behind, burying her nose into the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent.

‘Entertaining isn’t a word I normally associate with the BAU, not unless it’s family dinner or karaoke night.’ You filled the mugs with hot water, letting Emily stay wrapped around you and turned your head to look at the unusually quiet Spencer Reid. He was grinning and adding milk and more sugar to his coffee but there was a definite blush in his complexion. It was only when Em released you to finish making her tea that you noticed the package on the breakfast bar. ‘Open it’ Spencer hadn’t even looked at you, now fixing himself a snack and Emily had busied herself with rooting for cereal.

To say you were skeptical would be an understatement but you trusted that it wasn’t a head in a box so you sat on one of the stools and prised the box open. Skepticism morphed into major confusion and you slowly turned the box three times trying to make sense of it’s contents. You could feel them both looking at you now but you took another moment to compose yourself, not wanting to laugh in their faces if this was something they’d been working up to.

‘See this is how she beats us at poker.’ Em said, grinning into her bowl of muesli. Spencer has a hesitantly optimistic smile on and was nodding sagely. You looked down at the box and up into each set of brown eyes in turn, waiting for them to give some kind of hint. Their grins had you thinking they’d done this for the lols but you could never be totally sure. Emily had a great many kinks hidden behind those big brown eyes, maybe this was one of them. You kept your poker face, allowing your lips to mimic the small grins on theirs and waited them out.

Em cracked first, snorting into a fit of laughter. ‘I’m sorry, there was this shop and you really had to be there to get the joke but we both wanted to see your face so.’ She shrugged and gestured to the box which you now reached into. Gripping it round the middle you placed the only flat side of it down onto the counter. It’s main shaft was bright pink, the flat base a dark blue and the little tentacles were purple. Emily was surprising a fresh fit of laughter and even Spencer was chuckling into his coffee. Your own grin was demolishing any remnant of your poker face and you crossed your arms and cocked your head to the side, taking in the strange silicone object.

It was massive, easily twelve inches long and as thick around as your wrist. It had a hole in the base and the top tapered to another wide slit. You had a million ideas about what they wanted to do with this thing but for all your open mindedness you had no clue how it was going to be pleasurable. ‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Em asked tentatively. ‘Oh Penelope would have many thoughts on this, she’d probably keep fluffy pens in it in the batcave.’ The three of you dissolved into giggles at that visual. Clutching her side Em leaned against the opposite counter top and waited for your eyes to meet hers. ‘Really, what do you think?’. You sighed and wiped away the tears from your cheeks. ‘Honestly?’ ‘Honestly.’ They replied in unison. ‘It looks like you searched Doctor Who on PornHub.’ You answered honestly and with a miraculously small number of chuckles. Spencer spat his last mouthful of coffee back into the mug and bent over the breakfast bar counter, his head in his hands and shaking with laughter. Em cocked her head and gave the thing another look nodding her agreement with you.

Tearing your eyes from it you looked back into the box and extracted what looked to be a reusable egg carton and a booklet which you opened with hesitant curiosity.

‘G'lorp: Bringing sex to a (w)hole new dimension.’

You scanned the booklet for a word, a phrase, anything you could find that might give you a clue about what G’lorp actually did. It was on the last page that you found images of other equally brightly coloured and unusually shaped silicone creations and the word ovipositor. It suddenly dawned on you and you picked up the egg box and flicked back to a FAQ page you’d dismissed earlier. Recipes for gelatine mould.

Your partners were both around the kitchen island now, Spencer looking at you with a grin and biting his bottom lip, Emily sat on the countertop, legs folded, her huge brown eyes watching you over her mug of tea. ‘I have a few questions.’ You state with more calmness than you truly possessed. They nodded in unison again. You opened your mouth to speak and closed it again, unsure of how you were going to ask them without you all dissolving into giggles again. Deciding to pick the G’lorp up, it was far less scary now it had a name, you looked at it instead of your waiting partners, tracing the different textures in the silicone with your fingers.

‘Who did, no what did, what did you want to do with it? Well who also I guess.’ They smiled but the giggles seemed to have faded for now. ‘At first we just wanted to see your reaction, it’s not something either of us ever knew about.’ Em spoke up, glancing to Spencer to make sure she was on the right track. He nodded and reached across to the box and took out a small ziplock baggie with several yellow balls in it the size of large chicken eggs. ‘We were laughing about it in the hotel room and decided to test it out.’ ‘To see if it’s named after the sound it makes. It kinda surprised us both how nice a feeling it was to squeeze them through it.’ Em finished and took a long drink of tea.

You were all looking at the ball eggs now and putting G’lorp back into the box you reached out to Spencer to see what they felt like. He extracted one and placed it in your outstretched palm. ‘It’s a little lubey, that’s how you get them into it.’ Reaching into the bag he pulled out what looked like a large golf tee and placed another ball egg on top of it. You’d taken G’lorp from the box again, and held it in one hand with the slippery egg rolling in your other. Taking the dildo from you Spence lined up the hole in the bottom with the tee’d up egg and with a small schloop noise it went in. He handed G’lorp back to you and you gave him back the egg, wanting to grip the massive toy with both hands now it had lube all over it.

You could feel the ball inside and with a little pressure you could move it back and forth inside the shaft. Grasping the toy below the ball you pushed it towards the tapered end and it flew out and across the kitchen to land in Emily’s empty cereal bowl. ‘There’s a messed up sport in there somewhere’ Emily said with a wry grin as she washed the milk off the slippery egg and handed it back to Spencer. ‘Ten points to Gryffindor’ you and your boyfriend echoed and the prior calm was lost again to laughter and theoretical discussions about hippogriff reproduction and the likelihood that G’lorp was a distant relative of the flobberworm.

The G’lorp and its egg ball children stayed in your closet for a while after that night. None of you had any great interest in trying it out but there wasn’t enough disinterest to throw it away either. You were seriously considering gifting it to Penelope for her pen collection after unearthing it while cleaning one Saturday when Spencer came into your room and stretched himself across your bed, taking it out to examine. ‘I think you’d like it Y/N’. You pulled your head out of a garment bag full of lingerie and looked up at him from the floor. Giving the silicone toy an affectionate look you made a spur of the moment decision. ‘Okay’ Spencer rolled onto his stomach in surprise. ‘Okay?’ You nodded and repeated yourself. ‘Guess I’ll go make some fresh eggs then’ Spence took the box and left your room. You could hear him quietly saying ok to himself all the way down to the kitchen.

The three of you stood at the foot of Emily’s bed. You’d laid out an old duvet, anything involving this much lube required protective coverings. Emily had been as surprised as Spencer to hear you’d given them the go ahead and now that you were all here, fresh eggs made and G’lorp freshly cleaned for the event none of you really knew what to do. You weren’t as giggly as you had been the night they brought it home, but you could only insist so many times that you had no desire to role play getting eaten out by Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean before you collapsed onto the bed laughing and thrust the toy at them. ‘Let’s just get on with this yeah?’ You rolled your eyes and laid back as they joined you.

#kinktober2020 #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader x spencer reid #ovipositor #smut #gill writes

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taeswurld · 3 years

Text

Ace VI [Shitshow]

pairing: bakugo x fem!reader

genre: humor, romance

TW: violence, cursing, angst, fluff

Summary:

Shifting into My Hero was a total mistake, all those tiktoks you watched on a daily about shifting somehow convinced your brain to take part. Now the question is how to wake up, and most importantly, DON’T GET ATTACHED TO STUPID DRAWINGS!

A/N:

HI! New chapter! Kinda late! Sorry! Let me know if you wanna be mentioned in the taglist! Here’s Shitshow!

{ACE MASTERLIST}

After that shitshow, you took a nap.

It’s not that you passed out, no no.

You definitely did not pass out in Bakugou’s arms. Nope.

You simply took a nap. A three hour nap. You just so happened to fall asleep while he was holding you. End of story.

To be fair, you had a really tiring day, and it was only 4 in the afternoon.

You woke up in an alternate dimension with no clue what was going on whatsoever, and then realized you had superpowers. In fact, a power so super, it was difficult to control.

Once you came to, you realized you weren't in Gym Gamma anymore, but instead in someone’s room.

Hmm. Smells like cinnamon.

As you looked around, you found Midoriya and Todoroki holding ice to their heads and Bakugou cleaning up the dried blood down his ears, grumbling about how this ‘always fucking happens’ and ‘why do I even fucking bother’. While you were lied down on a bed, Bakugou was looking at the hanging mirror and Midoriya and Todoroki were sitting on some beanbag chairs.

When you made a quick move to rub your eyes, Midoriya stood up and walked over to you.

“Y/N! You woke up! Are you feeling better?” Midoriya asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where’s Hiro? And where are we?” You asked as you moved to sit up.

“Whoa, slow down there, Y/N.” Todoroki moved to push you back down. “Hiro’s taking a nap under the bed. His tail’s hanging out.”

At the sound of his name, he crawled out from under the bed to check up on you. Moving your hand to pet his fur, he sat on Todoroki feet.

“I think your wolf is sick. He’s acting quite odd. Earlier he kept rubbing up against me.” Todoroki told you with a deadpan expression.

“No, Todo, I think he just wanted a few pets. And he’s a husky, not a wolf. I don’t think I have enough talent to train a wolf.” You quirked an eyebrow at his comment. Jesus how dense is this guy?

“Where are we anyways, it looks familiar but I can’t straight out recognize this room.” You ask, checking out the room.

There was a few posters hung up, a couple of model airplanes on a shelf, along with school books. A desk was at the corner of the wall, piled with papers, a laptop, and a couple comic books. There was a couple of shoes on the floor, and some clothes sprawled out. And it smelled strongly of men’s cologne, but it wasn't cheap or tacky, it was for sure expensive, like the type a celebrity would wear. And caramel. Your nose was filled to the brim with the smell of caramel.

“We’re in my room dumbass,” Bakugou says as he turns around, finally getting all the dried blood out. “After training, the four of us usually end up here for whatever goddamn reason. Even though I’ve said more than once that you fucktards aren't allowed here.” He said rolling his eyes complaining.

“Okay Mr. Attitude, I didn’t order an extra side of sarcasm with your stupid ass answer. But thanks for taking care of me, I guess.” You said giving him a small smile of appreciation. “I like your room by the way. It’s very, Bakugou of you.” You said as your smiled widened to a full grin.

“I’m sorry, just how the fuck did you use my name?” He said giving you a small, but semi playful glare.

“Moving on,” Midoriya said pressing his lips together, trying his best to prevent a smirk from showing up. “Y/N, your control is has gotten a little worse.”

“You’re control has gone batshit crazy.” Todorki butts in with a small smile.

“Well, I mean, I wouldn't put it that way,” he says giving him a slight glare.

Todorki’s smile grows wider, giving Midoriya a small shrug.

Turning back to you, Midoriya begins going on about how you had an amazing control for a quirk so powerful. “It was insane. You could be the angriest person in the room, angrier than even Kacchan-”

“Highly impossible, this man is a chihuahua incarnate.” You said, giving a small smirk, finally moving to sit up so you can semi-look them in the eye.

“Okay princess, you’re lucky you’re injured and I’m feeling nice, because if it were up to me, your attitude would've been given a check a long ass time ago.” He says turning to you to give a small scowl.

“Anyways,” Midoriya cuts in, giving both of you an annoyed look. “You’re emotions could be overflowing, but you always managed to keep your quirk in check. However, in the last couple of days, I’ve noticed you become slightly more agitated, up to the incident that happened last night, and then this morning, waking up to a pounding headache and in what you call an alternate dimension.” He says crouching down a little to be at head-level with you.

“Yeah, I don't really understand that.” Todorki says, furrowing his eyebrows. “You were completely fine yesterday, other than being a little bit quieter and more snappy than usual. How the hell did your conscience manage to switch you out to a different dimension where you believe this is all fake?” He turns giving you a confused look.

“Look, in all honesty, I don't know. All I know is that you guys were like, in this T.V. show I watched a lot, and then I woke up IN the T.V. show. Like literally yesterday I was attending my online classes, I scrolled through my phone a little and then I took a nap. Next thing I know, I wake up here, no memories of this place, or any of you. Shit, I know what memories you guys claim to have with me, but frankly those are all experiences I’ve read in like fan fictions” You say.

“What the shit is a fan fiction?” Bakugou asks, giving you a very much confused, yet judgmental stare.

“Not important,” you claim, blushing. These guys do not need to know that you’ve literally read about them fucking your brains out, especially Bakugou. God knows you’ll never hear the end of it.

“And everyone keeps talking about this incident that happened last night. But nobody has filled me in. You mind telling me what's going on?” You ask, giving each of them a questioning stare.

“Last night you went out to train your quirk.” Midoriya says.

“You’ve said you’ve been feeling off for days. When I tried to talk to you about it, your bitchass got all pissy and then stomped off.” Bakugou says looking away, a little pissed off at the way past-you pushed him away.

“When we went to go check on you, your were losing control of your power, your hands covered in this blinding light before it took over your entire body. Aizawa had to come out to stop you because you were screaming in pain really loud. Once he turned off your power, you had blood oozing out of your ears and you were passed out.” Todorki says, not giving much attention to you, as he was too busy giving out stiff pets to Hiro.

“We called out to Recovery Girl, but she said the only thing we could do is make sure you get a good nights sleep and hope you wake up better in the morning.” Midoriya says giving you a soft stare.

“Jesus christ that sounds like a shitshow.” You say, rubbing your temples in hoping to relieve some of your stress.

“You can bet your ass it was. You weren't even supposed to go to train today, but Tweedle Stupid and Tweedle Stupider,” Bakugou says giving Todoroki and Midoriya a harsh glare. “decided to test out your control again. Apparently the fact that you may not be okay didn’t cross their pea-sized minds.” He growls.

“Hey! You know just as much as I do how important it is for her to maintain her control. We’ve gotta see where she is. After all, she’s got one of the strongest quirks in the class.” Midoriya says defending his actions.

“Dude, she’s literally the only person who could keep up with our crazy training schedules. And,” Todorki says giving him a glare right back, “you forget that she was also a target at the training camp. Only difference is I managed to grab her out of the League’s hands. Her quirk is literally wanted everywhere. If she doesn’t get her shit together soon, she can end up in danger real quick.” He states.

Sheesh, what a fucking reality check.

Well, as ‘reality’ as this dimension gets.

taglist : lanaxians-2

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samsexualdeancurious · 3 years

Text

His Own Hands | Chapter Four

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1,218

Summary: Bucky is settling in well with the Avengers but he keeps having nightmares - flashes of repressed memories of a girl being tortured by his hands and then vanishing into a swirling black portal. He's not sure who she is until Fury introduces them to their newest potential team member, a girl Bucky recognizes on sight and Fury calls "Portal".

Warnings: Hurt!Reader, Lack of Communication, torture, trauma, PTSD

Written for Nanowrimo 2020

Betaed by Saxxxology and Amory

Cover art edited by me

---

The rest of the team is already in the larger training room, the one with crazy holograph tech installed to simulate potential threats. Everyone’s wearing their uniforms, with the exception of Y/N whose uniform hasn’t arrived, and Bucky spots the case for his arm sitting on a bench. He grimaces but pops the locks open and lifts it out of its foam bed. Tony steps in, tools in hand to make sure that everything gets connected right.

The process is quick, streamlined by practice, and it’s no time before Bucky feels the little zing - he’s never quite sure how to describe it but zing is pretty close - that means everything is online. He rolls his shoulder, flexes his fist, and watches as the plates shift before putting on his uniform jacket. When he looks up, his eyes meet Y/N’s. She’s watching intently, clearly interested in the process. He searches her eyes a second for something - anything - to indicate that she recognizes or remembers him, but she just smiles.

“That’s some pretty impressive tech,” she observes as the others begin to move away. “What’s the metal?”

“Vibranium,” Bucky answers, tearing his eyes away from her.

“From Wakanda?”

“We should get moving.”

He joins Nat at the edge of the room. She eyes him.

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to her.”

Bucky grits his teeth but doesn’t reply.

“Wanna tell me what’s up?”

“No.”

Nat rolls her eyes. Before she can say anything else, though, the room hums to life and the simulation begins.

Their first run actually goes fairly well, considering this is the first time anyone but Nat has ever worked with her. At first it’s just what Bucky was expecting - using portals to hop around the simulation and help wherever needed, occasionally taking Wanda with her because “Wanda’s had contact with an Infinity Stone but we don’t know how the rest of you will react”. React to what, Bucky has no clue, and there’s not much time to explain.

They’re in their second more difficult simulation when a whole new level of Y/N’s power is revealed. The team is getting their asses kicked and Bucky, along with Y/N, Nat, and Steve, have been cornered by their enemies - some kind of robot that’s frankly one of the creepiest things Bucky’s encountered, humanoid shaped with a flat metal face and glowing red eyes. The others are attempting to rescue them but not having much luck.

“Move,” Y/N says, shoving at Nat and Bucky where they’ve stepped in front of her.

Bucky glances back at her. “What-?”

That’s all he gets out before she shoves him out of the way. Her eyes glow purple and a huge portal opens behind her, bigger than any Bucky’s seen her make so far. Something comes out - something gigantic and dark, swinging a great horned head - and plows through the robots.

They scatter but the beast is fast, much faster than something that size has any right to be, and destroys a large amount in no time. The team is quick to dispatch the remaining few and then everyone turns to stare as the beast returns to the portal.

“What the hell is that?” Tony says, coming to land a few feet from Y/N.

The creature looms huge even through the portal, stooping low to peer through at them with glowing green eyes. Bucky studies the creature, taking in the great furry head that reminds him a bit of a bull’s. In fact, the creature probably most resembles, in Bucky’s opinion, a minotaur. A really big minotaur.

“This is Stuart,” Y/N explains, reaching through the portal to stroke the beast’s nose. “He and his kin are good friends. They’re more than happy to help if I ask them to.”

Stuart - what the hell kind of name is that for a minotaur? - snorts and moves away. As he goes, Bucky catches a glimpse of a world. A dark, shadowy place; he can’t make out many details but still definitely a real, physical place. A world he’s seen before, caught a glimpse of once upon a time.

“What the hell,” Clint breathes.

Y/N glances between the team and the still-open portal. “Oh,” she says with an embarrassed chuckle. “I guess we didn’t really explain the Dark Dimension, huh?”

The Dark Dimension, as Y/N calls it, turns out to be exactly what it sounds like - a parallel dimension of sorts, according to Dr. Strange. Apparently, he and Y/N have worked closely over the last year to help her further master and understand her abilities. Y/N explains to them that she travels through the dark dimension with her portals, using it as a stepping stone between locations. She can go anywhere she’s already been or seen pictures of.

Tony and Bruce are fascinated and immediately want to visit the Dark Dimension. Y/N is able to dissuade them, though, when she explains how dangerous it is. She has friends, yes, in the form of Stuart and a few others, but she’s never explored much beyond what she has to in order to travel through it or visit them. The Dark Dimension is full of unknowns.

The team wraps up their training session soon after and everyone begins heading for their respective bathrooms to shower - all except Y/N. Tony lingers long enough to help Bucky remove his arm and then he’s gone, too, leaving Bucky alone with her.

“Don’t like wearing it unless you have to, huh?” she asks, voice soft.

Bucky nods, sliding on the black sock-like cover he wears to protect the circuitry embedded in his shoulder and draping his uniform jacket over his arm. When he starts off toward his bedroom, Y/N follows.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to wear it all the time?”

“Probably.”

“Why don’t you?”

Because it reminds me of all the things I’ve done. The things I’ve done to you. “That’s not really your business.”

She shrinks back from his words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. Curiosity killed the cat, I guess.”

Bucky immediately feels bad for snapping at her. “You’re fine. I’m just tired and I really need a shower.”

“Oh, of course!” she brightens up again. “I’ll let you go shower. See you at dinner?”

Bucky nods stiffly and picks up the pace, leaving Y/N behind. Why does she have to be so sweet? He knows she’s not asking questions because she’s nosy, she’s genuinely curious and wants to get to know him. He just keeps pushing her away and, honestly? It’s not fair to her. But what else can he do?

Despite his coldness, Y/N still makes valiant efforts to befriend him. She does her best to include him wherever she can, inviting him to things like the weekly movie nights she implements. She sits next to him at dinner every night and Bucky forces himself to at least be polite. He knows Steve and Nat are concerned about his behavior but he can’t explain himself to them. He can’t explain himself to anyone except possibly Fury and there’s no way Bucky’s going to Fury with his personal problems. Nope, not happening.

So Bucky endures, remaining polite but still keeping Y/N at a distance for as long as he can.

---

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—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @imsuperawkward @emoryhemsworth @manawhaat

#his own hands #bucky x reader #my writing

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softjeon · 4 years

Text

In love with your dark side | Final

• Pairing: Beauty!Taehyung x Beast!Yoongi • Genre: Fluff, bit of Angst | Rating: Teen and Up | Beautyandthebeast!AU / Fairytale!AU • Words: 4,5k | AO3 | Gifset Trailer • Disclaimer: anxiety, mentioning of a curse

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Yoongi had tried not to think about what would happen if someone saw him but his mind had wandered through all of their possible reactions anyway: screaming, laughing, shock… he’s had so many horrible encounters in his mind and yet the boy in front of him didn’t react like in any of his thoughts.

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His gaze wandered around slowly, holding onto his folder tightly as he leaned over a glass vitrine to see a few pieces and information on the exhibition inside. He always loved the quiet of the museum and even here in midst of the entrance, he felt more home than he’d ever felt anywhere before. Taehyung couldn’t describe that feeling, but today it mixed with the anxiety of the reason why he was here. Instinctively he held on a little tighter to his folder, pressing it against his chest. A curious rustling came from behind him and Taehyung turned, when he saw an old lady peering out at him from behind the counter that he hadn’t seen before.

“Oh, my…,” Taehyung clasped a hand to his chest and the woman laughed. She was clearly a museum volunteer, working late to close out the gift shop. Or maybe she was just tidying up after a busy day.

“Hello, Miss…do you happen to know where Mr. Kang is?” Taehyung asked, looking down to his watch. His meeting with him had been about five minutes ago but the owner of the museum hadn’t been showing up. Ever since he had promised Yoongi to take him out, Taehyung had been almost manic to find a museum, big or small to accept his art and photography.

Until now, he had only cancellations. And this right now seemed awfully like one of them.

“Oh, he has been out a while ago. He made me cancel all other applications. Didn’t I call you?” The woman was asking, and Taehyung sighed deeply, smiling at her even though everything in him just wanted to scream. He had dressed up, sorted his stuff anew and even came up with a new tactic to finally wrap them around his fingers.

And there it was again: the secretary telling him that they already found someone else. Someone that suited them better.

Taehyung was out of ideas when he opened up his shop later that day, not wanting to tell Yoongi again that he hadn’t been able to make it. Maybe this was just an awful way of the universe telling him that he wasn’t it. Putting the folder onto his desk, Taehyung lit up the little sign that said ‘open’ and sat down with a pout on his lips.

A woman came in with so much force that the little bells above the door were ringing like they were caught in a storm. Everything about her seemed bright; her red costume, her lips, her eyes as if her whole form demanded attention.

“Kim Taehyung?” She asked without so much as a greeting, looking like she was in a hurry. She wore high heels that were so dangerously high that for a moment Taehyung was scared she might fall and hurt herself with how fast she was coming towards him, but she was so steady as if it were totally normal for her to run around on high heels. “Why aren’t you at the museum?”

“Why…am I what?” Taehyung was so out of depth as she looked at him as if she knew exactly who he was while he had absolutely no clue. He got around his desk and motioned to the back, where he usually took the pictures for job applications that were a regular business. “Do you need me to take pictures for you? I’m sorry…I didn’t get your name when you came in.” He gave her a friendly smile and reached out his hand as if he had simply misheard her question about the museum. Maybe he was going crazy already.

“We don’t have time for that now.” She waved a hand hectically as if she was scaring of some flies and then turned towards him with a frown. “The museum was waiting for you! You had an appointment there! Today!” She spoke overly clear as if she was trying to get Tae out of his daydreams. “They were expecting your pictures about three hours ago. An exhibition isn’t going to make itself! Now hurry up! Tell me which pictures you wanted to take, and we’ll get them out into the van. You can dress up later, nobody expects a suit for artists anyways nowadays, let the art speak for itself!”

“I was at the museum today, but my appointment got cancelled. Mr. Kang already found someone else, didn’t he told you?” He felt awful as if someone was rubbing his failures into his face one more time.

She walked past him while talking, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Your appointment didn’t get cancelled - the selection process had been cancelled. Because they saw your pictures before and decided to take them so no other applications were needed.”

“M-my pictures? It can’t be…wait, are you even talking about the national gallery?” He got pushed into the direction of his atelier and when he didn’t move, the woman just simply walked ahead and grabbed a few of folders and looked through them, then nodded and put them under her arm. “Move!” She ordered again and Taehyung absently minded walked ahead. Taehyung gave a few more folders to her, where he had safely put in his photography that was printed in all different kind of sizes, before unlocking the door to his atelier, revealing even more of the things he had never shown anyone. “I…I have a few paintings as well, they aren’t…good, but…maybe.” Taehyung was still not sure what this was about, but she looked rather pleased. “I have some photography on canvas as well there.” He pointed into one corner, hurrying over to get the stuff for her.

“Ah, yes, perfect!” The canvases were a lot big and heavier than his folders so for a moment Taehyung wondered how she would carry them with the folders still in her arms, but she walked past them, opened the door and whistled loudly. In came two men dressed all in black and if their faces hadn’t been that plainly visible they could have passed for burglars, right down to their black leather gloves. “Those ones, boys.” She ordered them and with a curt nod towards Tae they picked up his canvases. All of them.

Taehyung was just running back and forth with them until his whole room was emptied and no art piece was left inside his shop. He stood a little frozen in the atelier, not being able to believe anything that was happening when the woman grabbed him by his arm and took him along, mumbling something about how they should just take him with them in the van so he would be punctual. Only then when Taehyung stood at the museum again did he put the pieces together. His art would be hung in a museum. A real museum. With shaking hands, he took out his phone and called Yoongi’s office. He knew the other was still asleep, so he didn't mind it when the mailbox went on.

"You won't believe what just happened." He raked a hand through his hair as he tried to process how the men were bringing his art in. "It's starting in a few hours. It was last minute and I… I can't believe this, Yoongi. I wish you were here." He took a deep breath before he added quickly, "Let me take you out, please. I'll ask the owner if we can visit at night. The opening starts in a couple of hours." Taehyung felt out of breath from all the excitement, "I need to hurry, they are calling for me." With that he put his phone away again and hurried inside, following the women to where his paintings and photography would be hung when he froze completely. It wasn't just a single wall he would get, but a whole floor. Just for him. Taehyung could feel the tears burning behind his eyes as the thought of his dreams coming true hit him full force. "This is all mine?"

“No, of course it’s not yours, don’t be silly. It’s just leased. You can hang your pictures up and then you have to take them off in a few weeks.” Came the curt answer who didn’t leave room for someone who had just found out that his dream had come true. “Now, come on, we need to know your preferred placements of the pieces you brought. After you’ve decided on the sequence and general order you can go down into the cafeteria to get a coffee or a piece of cake while we do the lighting and talk about the advertisement and then you can come up again and look at the finished exhibition.” Taehyung looked still so dumbfounded that she placed her hand on his shoulder for a few seconds. “Don’t worry, we can exchange pictures or add more spots if something doesn’t feel right or needs more light. You’re the artist and we’ll make sure that everything is exactly how you envisioned it.”

“How...I envisioned it.” It was almost like he had gotten thrown into a different dimension, another world, maybe he had been falling asleep at his desk and was just dreaming? He quickly got whipped out of his thoughts again, when the woman pulled him along and Taehyung shook himself out of it. He needed to focus. He had definitely envisioned this moment a million times, so he rolled his shoulders back and began directing everyone, discussing positions with the curator as they walked through the still empty halls that were slowly filled with his art.

“Can we maybe let piano music play in the background...I’d always thought that it’s fun if there’s an instrument right in the middle of an exhibition for people to play but...I know it’s short term so?” Taehyung asked shyly, but what the other answered had him frozen in shock. “We can order a piano and put it right here if you want?” The other turned on his heel, noting something down on his clipboard before he was already calling someone and leaving Taehyung alone with his thoughts. Slowly, he strolled back around, watching how they were hanging his pictures up, listening to the clicking of the heels of the woman that was ordering people to go more left or right and it was making him smile. How the hell was this to be real. It could only be a dream.

In the cafeteria, Taehyung gotten himself some hot chocolate to relax. When he looked up from his empty cup, he could see people outside putting up the banners for the exhibition with loads of names he already knew, when it fell onto something familiar. “No, no...wait…,” Taehyung ran outside in his haste not caring about bringing his cup back to the counter and stood completely in awe, when the men had finished bringing up the new advertisement. And there was his name. His name. Right next to the one’s he admired so much himself.

It felt like hours that he stood outside in the cold, just watching his name wave with the wind before someone stepped beside him. “Here, I figured you might need this.” Jimin’s voice got him out of his thoughts and he hugged his friend tightly, taking the beret from him before putting it on. “Now you look like an artist.” Jimin smiled up at his best friend, who held up a bag with more clothes that he had brought him after Taehyung had whined about not wanting to be in his work clothes tonight, so they quickly hid in the bathroom to change.

“They just came in?” Jimin asked and Taehyung hummed in response. “Took all of my art. All of it, can you believe it? I have a whole floor! All of it...like four rooms, Jiminie!” His best friends arms hugged around his waist and Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh, “And I asked for a piano and they just said: no problem. I’m not sure if they made it though. It was all a bit last minute actually.” Taehyung felt a lot more relaxed with Jimin by his side and yet, when he stepped into the exhibition that was now filled with people waiting to be let into the new art exposition, reading upon him and his work in little folded up papers. Still, Taehyung couldn’t help but look around and search for someone.

He knew it was kind of stupid to hope that Yoongi would come. Maybe he had heard his mailbox message, but would wait for a midnight date, sometime when they can be alone, and Taehyung would make sure that it would happen. And still, it made his heart beat a little faster at the thought of Yoongi coming here. But there were too many people, too many eyes that could see him. Taehyung startled when the people all around him clapped enthusiastically and then went off to either get a glass of champagne or finally visit the art pieces. The young artist held Jimin by his wrist and showed him around, telling him all about his photography, making Jimin startle when he found a few pieces of himself on the wall. “Oh gosh, Taehyungie!” He blushed vividly, but Taehyung just chuckled.

“Excuse me, but...I couldn’t help but notice the similarity could it be that it’s you?” A man had stepped beside him, tall with blonde hair and Jimin gulped up at him. “Oh, it’s hideous. I’m so sorry. Taehyung should’ve used someone better...my posture looks awful in this one.” Taehyung couldn’t help but roll his eyes, when Jimin wasn’t even realizing that the man was obviously flirting with him, not caring about his posture but just about the aesthetics of the photography. He always loved photographing Jimin while he was dancing. It was like art in motion. He smiled, stepping away from the two, when something made his ears perk up. “I’ll buy the series.”

“Wh-what?” It came from both of them simultaneously as they blinked at the stranger, who was smiling at them so sweetly that it turned his eyes into half-moons. “I’d like to offer you a price. Let your manager call me, please and reserve those for me.” He handed Taehyung a card, before returning his attention to Jimin. “My Manager,” Taehyung mumbled, thinking about how he never even thought about having one. “Ah, you sold something. Amazing!” The woman in the red-heels took out some stickers, placing them below the art piece, spelling ‘reserved’ right underneath it’s description. She patted his shoulders in encouragement, before leaving Taehyung as fast as she came.

It didn’t happen to be the last picture he sold, because Taehyung found those little stickers under a few of his photography already and he was eager to see who those people were. Apparently the lady in red was really good at selling. So, Taehyung kept to his part: shaking hands, discussing the art, meeting new people and collecting more cards of important and potential customers. He had long lost Jimin, who was busy talking to the tall stranger, or flirting as he could tell by their giggles.

Standing in midst of all those people, Taehyung felt unsure for a moment. It was too much happening at once, people patting his back, congratulating him, telling him how amazing he was, when all his life people only rejected his art. What did change? Did they really like it? He looked down at the cards in his hand and then back up, trying to take a deep breath. He didn’t want to let his insecurities destroy this magical moment. Closing his eyes, Taehyung took a few more deep breaths, when he could hear a soft tune playing and it immediately brought a smile onto his lips. In midst of it all, Taehyung hadn’t realized that they really fulfill his wish of music playing in the background. He hadn’t noticed it before. When he opened his eyes, Taehyung searched for where it came from, but when he saw the boxes in the corner of the room, he quickly realized that they were silent, and the music was coming from a different place. His heart was starting to race, and his breath hitched.

…

Being up during the day felt strange, but he had to if he wanted to be at Taehyung’s exhibition opening. He could only imagine how stunned and happy the younger must be when he came to the museum, trying to get the spot and then they would tell him that they already hired him. Except that apparently there was a misunderstanding and when the museum called that Taehyung hadn’t showed up he couldn’t believe it.

Turned out he was right, because Taehyung had been there but apparently no one had told him that he was hired just that no one could apply because the spot was already taken. He would have very much liked to jell at someone but as they were doing him a favor by taking Taehyung he just ended the call politely and then send his quickest manager over. She would handle everything so that the exhibition could still open in time. By the time the pictures were hanging properly he had already received a circular email advertising the new exhibition, had heard a note on the radios art program and had been sent a picture of the banners that had been hung up at and close to the museum. Yoongi was more than pleased. Only when he got a call about Taehyung wanting a piano did he start to panic a little. Taehyung really went all out there - but he had promised him the exhibition of his dreams and he would definitely keep his promise. So, a little while later he had organized a white piano with a pattern of colorful paint splashes and was sitting in the van where it was transported. His heart was beating into overdrive even though technically he had the safest cover: He wore a suit, white gloves and a white mask and no one would try to talk to him when he was playing the piano. It would be like serving drinks or food; no one would take notice of him; he would just fade into the background of the exhibition.

Only that one person did notice.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung’s heart stopped, when he noticed the familiar back right away, the way his fingers were gliding over the keys so smoothly as if he was simply dancing – just with his fingertips. He knew the melody inside out, had heard it a million times before and watched Yoongi play while he had leaned onto him at night. His heart was beating fast, when he walked further into the room, people all around him but Taehyung didn’t care about it anymore. His eyes were focused on Yoongi and him alone. He came. Solely for him to support him, to be with him on this important night, despite the people around.

“You’re here,” Taehyung whispered and sat down next to Yoongi, who kept playing until the tune slowly faded out. When he turned to him, his almost blackish eyes looking up at him, Taehyung found himself smiling. Even brighter than before. “Why are you here? There’s people… I thought you didn’t want to…”

“I didn’t think anyone would notice me when I’m in charge of the music and not a visitor. But of course, you noticed me. You’re more perceptive than you should be.” The mask covered his smile, but his eyes and the tone of his voice gave it away anyways. “Are you happy about your exhibition? I told you that you would make it. Also, it seems I’ll have to hurry to get a picture or else everything will be reserved before I have a chance to look at them all.”

Taehyung nodded softly, not wanting to cry tears of joy again, so he bit his lip. “I’m even happier now that you’re here.” He took Yoongi’s hand in his, wanting to intertwine their hands when he noticed the gloves. “I’d like to show you everything, just like I promised you. Do you trust me?” Taehyung held onto his hand softly, soothing over the fabric.

“Could we... maybe wait till the other visitors are gone? I talked to the custodian of the museum on the phone and we have green light to stay a little longer if we want. If I get up you won’t have piano music.” While what he said was true he was simply scared. If Taehyung went to show him around people would start talking about a visitor in a mask. As piano player he was safe but as Min Yoongi he was utterly vulnerable right now.

Taehyung reached out, soothing over Yoongi’s arm softly. “I love you, Yoongi, the way you are, and no one can tell me how to see you. I know you are afraid, but I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His heart jumped at his own confession, but it was true. He had fallen in love for his stubborn boss somewhere along the way. He took Yoongi’s hand in his and slowly removed one glove, keeping his hand in his so no one else could see, hiding his smaller hands between his own. “It will be okay. I won’t let it slip.”

His breath was taken away by the younger’s word. He had given up on hope and that Taehyung, the person he liked most told him he loved him so easily was making his heart ache in a good way. Maybe he did have a chance at happiness and love after all. Nonetheless his first instinct was to withdraw his hand because he was still scared - but then he kept it where it was. He trusted Taehyung fully. And if it would make the other happy to hold his hand then he would swallow down the fear and be there for him instead.

Because for the first time in a long, long while someone else was more important to him than himself.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked shyly, noticing how nervous Yoongi was. “You’ll be okay. I promise.” He leaned in, placing a kiss on his cheek softly. He kept there, hovering over Yoongi’s lips (or where they would be hidden behind the mask) as he spoke. “Just squeeze my hand if it gets too much.” Taehyung got up and pulled Yoongi up with him, when the other had given his consent to move. He kept his hand close in his as he moved along, wanting to show Yoongi his favorite art first. No one turned their heads towards them, all of them too immersed in either socializing or discussing the art itself. Barely any of them even knew Taehyung was the artist.

It was easier walking with Tae than walking alone and he found himself so concentrated on Taehyung and his art that for a few moments he forgot why he was scared. The younger’s eyes lit up as he talked about the day he took the picture they were standing in front of; a beautiful landscape filled with flowery meadows and a beautiful cloudy sky. Listening to Taehyung took him to that place where Tae had hidden from the rain that day as he had been on his way to visit his grandma and the rain had surprised him. And just when he had thought that the rain would never stopped the sky had opened and let the sun through and he had taken the picture that now hung on the wall. Yoongi smiled fondly at Taehyung, thinking that the boy was more beautiful than every piece of art could ever be and with a sudden clarity he realized that he was just in love with Taehyung as it was the other way round.

“What are you thinking about?” Taehyung’s question shook him out of his thoughts, and he met the younger’s gaze. “Do you like it? It’s pretty basic, I guess. A simple shot of the sun but…it was a beautiful symbolism, right? There’s so much more than the simple visitor can see.” He bit his lip shyly, fumbling around with Yoongi’s hand, not wanting to ramble on. He had bored many with his deep conversations before.

“Yes, it is beautiful. You’re amazing, Tae. Though what I was actually thinking about was that I love you too. And that if you’re okay with it I’d like to kiss you.” He could just put the mask a little up so no one could see but his love for Tae right now was greater than his caution.

Taehyung gulped, eyes wide when Yoongi confessed and asked him something that he really wanted to do for so long. “Y-yes, of course, I…I want you to.” He didn’t know what to do, holding onto Yoongi’s hand so tightly as he was feeling more nervous than he had before the exhibition had been opened. He could feel his cheeks blushing and feeling hot.

Carefully Yoongi tipped the mask upwards until his mouth was free and then leaned in to gently cover Taehyung’s lips with his own. It was a delicate kiss, careful and fragile as if he wasn’t sure that this wasn’t a dream and if he wasn’t cautious it would shatter into a million pieces. But Taehyung’s lips were warm and steady, and his mouth tasted so sweet that Yoongi couldn’t help it, he moved closer, his hand wandering to the boy’s waist as he held him against his own body, kissing him again, more daringly so.

The mask slipped off.

“Yoongi!” Taehyung gasped against his lips, when he had opened his eyes just for a second but what he saw made him stop and stare.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Y-you’re…” He blinked, still holding close onto Yoongi as he watched how the veins started to fade out, the black ink seemingly unraveling until they wasn’t seen anymore and instead it was only his brown eyes staring back at Taehyung. He was gleaming and Taehyung cupped his cheeks to look at him thoroughly, before hastily taking his hand in his and watching how the black streaks were simply fading away. In his haste to see if this was real, he took the Yoongi’s other hand, pulled off the glove. “W-what…what is happening?”

Tae’s shock hit him right in the heart and he quickly tried to cover his face with his hands - but to his surprise his palms weren’t black anymore. He slowly let them sink in a daze, turning them over and over to check if they were really just skin. “Tae, do you... do you see this?” Suddenly the other’s expression made sense and he hurriedly turned towards the next picture that was securely sealed behind glass. In his reflection a normal face stared back. His face. He touched his cheek, patting it lightly to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. But the reflection mimicked him, and he didn’t wake up. A tear spilled over, sudden and hot, running down his cheek when he realized that this was true.

The curse had been broken. And he had Tae to thank for that.

The younger had seen him; broke right through his defenses with his love and kind heartedness to the very core of him. He loved him despite what he looked like, breaking the curse when Yoongi had realized he loved someone too, more than himself and trusted Taehyung with his life. He didn’t mind if others would see him because he wasn’t alone anymore. As long as he was with Taehyung, he was safe.

And with him he felt beautiful, no matter how he looked like on the outside.

Taehyung had seen all his flaws and decided to love him, because he let his heart chose him, not his head. Even if it still made no sense to the younger, Yoongi couldn’t help but pull a stunned Taehyung in and kiss him until they both felt breathless.

He could explain everything later.

Because they had all the time in the world together.

A/N: And here our lovely little beauty and the beast au is finished. We hope you enjoyed this little fic of ours and are excited to our (for now) last fairytale au which will be next: Alice in Wonderland! Thank you for reading and all your lovely comments!

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#taegi #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #taehyung #yoongi #bts #bangtan #bts fanfic #beauty and the beast au #taegi au #7mywriting #mine

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 3 years

Text

Earth 5620 - Chapter 1

Summary: When fractures start appearing across the world, S.W.O.R.D. and S.H.I.E.L.D. work together to create a team of...specialists. It’ll take them coming together to stop two dimensions from colliding.

Word Count: 2604 words

Warnings: Um, none that I can think of?

Marvel Kiddos

A/N: I haven’t written anything on here in a WHILE. So I hope you like it. :)

January 15th. Seattle. Washington

Covert. That was what they were supposed to be in this moment. Calm, cool, collected. Gathering information because this was a clusterfuck. They were waiting for higher-ups. That was their orders. Still, when she got the call, this wasn’t what she had expected.

A split between dimensions.

Cracked – but who swung the hammer? Who manipulated the reality?

Boots scuffed against concrete as she reached for it. The best way to learn was to discover. That was what she always believed and now seemed just as good a time as any to practice that idea.

“Director Carter.”

Sharon sighed. Her hand dropped to her side as she turned to see who S.W.O.R.D. had sent to help. “It’s not exactly comforting when they send in their best, Captain Rambeau.”

Monica smirked. She loved being sent in. Desk work did her no good and she figured the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was the same way. “What is it?” She gestured to the crack. No, Fracture. Definitely a Fracture. It was too big. Too noticeable to be anything else.

“Was hoping you could tell me. This area is more your specialty, don’t you think?”

Her smirk grew into a smile as Sharon gave her a knowing look. It was true. S.H.I.E.L.D. specialized in super soldiers, arrogant billionaires, and things like vibranium. Mutants too, but that was because of Sharon’s aunt. There was a special interest there for them.

S.W.O.R.D. handled the weird and freaky. Things that had no real explanation. Infinity Stones…Alternate Realitiess? Or Aliens? Powers that were more than genetics and Masters of the Mystic Arts? That was Monica’s area.

There was a mutual respect between the two. One neither woman would ever dare to overstep even if their specialties chose to intertwine.

She turned her attention back to the Fracture, circling it. However, as she reached its side, the crack vanished. “It’s two dimensional.” She glanced at Sharon who mirrored her movements.

Sure enough. It was like looking through a window.

“I’ll get my men to do some readings.” Monica was already heading back to the vehicles, knowing her men were waiting on an update. “Let’s see if there’s anything on the other side.”

Surprisingly quiet, Sharon couldn’t take her eyes off the anomaly. As interesting as “another side” sounded, she had to wonder –

Was this the only occurrence?

March 19th New Orleans. Louisiana

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

Monica’s gaze shifted from the Fracture to her newest guests. “Director Carter.” She didn’t move from her spot on the ground. The reactor in her hand was still struggling to get a reading. The last thing she needed was to mess that up. “This is only the second, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’m worried about the lack of information.”

Monica sighed. Passing off the reactor to a S.W.O.R.D. operative, she rose to her feet and walked around the Fracture. It was at least twenty feet long – more than twice the size of the one in Seattle. And she wasn’t the only one to notice. She joined Sharon’s side and only just noticed the worry on Sharon’s face. It was etched so deep in her features, as strong and unwavering as diamond. Monica understood her fear. Truly.

Things had grown considerably calmer since Thanos was destroyed. This sparked problems and no one had a clue how big they were. The questions were surpassing their answers and it was enough to make both women feel ill.

“Let my specialists work, okay? If a third pops up, we’ll talk about a POA. But right now, it could be a coincidence. We got a lot of them in this line of work.” With a gentle nudge and a friendly smile, Monica reminded her, “You know that.”

“The last time we believed something was a coincidence, we had to learn the hard way that Hydra and Weapon X were one and the same.”

Monica winced. “Okay. Bad choice of words.” Looking back, she knew they should worry. At least a little. But she didn’t want to react yet. Sharon was always ready for a fight. And while Monica was too, there had been a fair amount of peace that she wasn’t ready to let go of.

Not yet.

May 7th. Boston. Massachusetts

Darcy couldn’t take her eyes off of it. It looked as if glass was breaking. In the middle of the air. It sounded ridiculous, she knew that, but it was an accurate description. This was something she would expect from an Asgardian visit. Instead – it was hovering in the middle of the Boston Public Garden. Appearing out of nowhere.

She’d guess it was at least a mile long and half a mile wide. It was huge.

“That looks weird.”

“You could say that again.” Darcy kept up her trek across the ridiculously huge park. She looked ahead and found the guy that had spoken. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone that had run away or the officers that were attempting to evacuate the park. He was completely wrapped up in the same thing she had been staring at. She joined his side. “Doctor Darcy Lewis – astrophysicist.”

He hadn’t realized she had spoken to him until she cleared her throat. Pulled from his thoughts, he glanced down at her and nodded. “Will.”

“You’re not scared of it?” Darcy raised a brow. Did he have a death wish?

Will chuckled. He propped his glasses on top of his head and gave her his full attention. His eyes – a splattering of rainbows and crystals – were almost impossible to look at. “I’m really good with weird.”

Behind them, just entering the park, Monica and Sharon slowed their run. It seemed their realization was mutual. This wasn’t just a couple cracks, or Fractures as Monica called them, this was something big. Very big.

Unable to tear her eyes away, Monica asked Sharon, “So you remember that POA I mentioned?”

She nodded. “I got a couple ideas. A few phone calls we can make.”

May 12th. Afghanistan. South Asia

He should be lifting spirits right now, being a leader.That was all that was on his mind. Hope was key – especially with the men and women. Their chance to go home had been prolonged for another five months. Five months with no contact for his soldiers. No way of reaching their families.

It was so much to ask of them. And instead of trying to give them hope, he was here. Why? He spared a glance across the room, recognizing the other guy. He was lower rank, but a specialist. His name – Benjamin couldn’t bring himself to remember it.

“You’re Master Sergeant Rogers, right?”

Benjamin couldn’t hide his surprise. There was no way. But as surprised as he was, he was also impressed. “Yeah. And you shouldn’t be talking.”

The specialist chuckled, shoulders shaking. “Our parents fought together.”

“How did you know? No one else – “

“Everyone knows. We just don’t say it.”

Benjamin huffed, nostrils flaring. He looked away only for a moment before remembering, “You’re Clint’s and Nat’s kid. Jensen, right?” He nodded and Ben shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry. About her – your mom, I mean.”

Jensen scoffed. “Look, we don’t have to get into that. I was just pointing out that we’re Superkids. That’s probably why we’re here.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Jensen, who had no interest in acknowledging the tension, simply stayed put. But Ben found himself counting the seconds, the minutes.

It took ten of them. Ten minutes of uncomfortable tension before the door finally opened.

The two stood, backs tense and hands poised, ready to salute whoever walked through those doors.

They hadn’t expected to see James Woo, FBI agent and overall awkward individual. He nodded, offering a curt smile as he said, “Hi.”

Ben and Jensen shared a look, hands already mid salute when Jimmy shook his hands.

“Don’t do that. Seriously. I’m here with a friend and we…Well, we need your help.”

Furrowed brows and confusion hung in the air. It seemed a million questions silently morphed over their features before they saw Jimmy’s friend enter behind him.

Ben smiled, recognizing her from many a training session. “Captain Rambeau.”

“Master Sergeant Rogers.” She smiled. “It’s been a while.”

“Just a decade or so.”

The two shared a laugh, easing a bit of the tension in the room. And while that was great for them, it left one person still in the dark. Jensen shifted from one foot to the other, raising a hand as if he had to be called on. “Look, reunions are great and all, but can I bring up the elephant in the room? Why’re you here?” He pointed to himself and Ben. “And why’re we?”

Monica huffed. “About that…”

Queens. New York

Flying through the air, an excited laugh tumbled from her lips. She landed on the fire escape with ease and released the webbing. Sparing one quick glance, fingers curled around her window and she crawled inside.

It fell shut behind her. With a sharp exhale, the mask was tugged off and her massive curls freed. Lena checked her appearance for a quick moment. Flipping her hair and nudging it with her fingers, she was satisfied enough. Next came removing the Spidersuit, replacing it with comfy, pink joggers and keeping the sports bra.

She was home. Extra effort didn’t have to be made in her attire.

“Lena!”

She squeaked, jumping a foot in the air when she heard her father’s voice. Normally, it was Lena’s mom shouting for her to do the dishes or some other boring chore. Her dad didn’t yell. He didn’t like yelling. Grabbing her phone, she was quick to leave her room only to find herself particularly confused when she saw her dad wasn’t alone.

Well, at least the yelling made sense now.

“Dad?”

Peter looked up. That goofy smile of his, the one she had known all of her life, was staring right back at her. But it was different. Proud? Maybe that was the word? Not surprising. He was always proud of her. “Hey, how was school?”

“It was good.” Her eyes drifted back to the blonde. She was edgy in a weird sort of way. While Lena had grown up hearing how rough and tough her mom was, this woman was different. She redefined the meaning of the word. “Who’s this?”

“This is Sharon Carter. She’s the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Hey, Miss Parker.” Sharon offered a smile. It was enough to melt the edges away. She softened, but Lena didn’t buy it. It was too much. As if Sharon was trying to relate to her.

“Yeah, cool. What’s this about? I have homework.”

Peter leaned against the counter. “Since when do you care about homework?”

Lena pouted. Okay, that was fair. But she found herself taking a quick step back when Sharon walked around the dining table. It was weird. She should trust her. Her dad did. But their histories in the Superworld were different. And this wasn’t a face she recognized.

“Is this you?”

Lena’s gaze shifted from Sharon’s face to the clip on her phone. It was her in her Spidersuit, swinging in and out of those random cracks that had appeared in the MoMa in Queens and the Brooklyn Museum. According to the news, a couple more had popped up in New Jersey and California. She shrugged. “Um…yeah. No one had closed them off yet.”

Sharon’s face morphed into that of amusement. She zoomed out on the clip, showing the warnings and Agents that were securing the area or had just finished.

A blush tinted Lena’s cheeks as she looked from parent to agent and back again. “Am I in trouble?”

Sharon shook her head as Peter grinned from ear to ear. “Far from it actually. If it’s okay with you, I’d really appreciate your help.”

May 20th. S.W.O.R.D. Headquarters

Terrance’s fingers impatiently drummed on the steering wheel. He really didn’t like this idea. He didn’t trust it. “Look I know Dad wanted us to help out Sharon ‘cause she’s family, but we don’t know anything about these guys.”

“Sure we do.” Sasha’s small smile didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t like it either. She definitely didn’t trust it. “We’ve known Sharon since Dad and Papa adopted us. And neither of them would send us anywhere they didn’t think was safe.”

Terrance parked the car, getting out as Sasha followed suit. “I’m just saying, there are a lot of other big-name heroes they could be calling. This isn’t our territory.”

“And I couldn’t agree more, but I did my research. S.W.O.R.D. helped take down Weapon X and Hydra. They played a big part in bringing our parents back. We can do this.” She looked at Terrance. “But I’m not going in if you aren’t.”

He looked at the massive building, having to crane his neck. It was huge. Gaudy. Too much for people who were supposed to be blending in to do good. “They just want our abilities, Sash.”

“Maybe. But what if they need us?”

His distaste shifted to a plain, old grimace that he had given his sister one too many times. “I hate when you do that.”

She laughed. “And I love it.”

The two stepped inside the building. It was too bright. Too clean. Neither of them liked it, but they had grown used to this being “normal” for these types of organizations. You must look good to do your job. At least that was what these groups shoved down their throats.

“Maggie!” Sasha immediately brightened at the sight of her old friend making her way towards them.

“Hey, guys.” Smile unwavering, Maggie tackled the two in a hug. It made Sasha soften, but Terrance was still tense. Some things never change. “Guessing it was Uncle Bucky that talked you into this?”

“More Dad actually,” Terrance told her.

Though surprised, Maggie appreciated that Sam had managed to do this. “Well, I’m just glad to see two familiar faces,” she admitted. “C’mon. I was just heading towards Monica’s office.”

The screaming could be heard far before they actually reached the door. Terrance grimaced, already looking at Sasha as if she owed him for getting him here. Who could have caused such a huge fight when they weren’t even there yet?

And hearing so many voices, he had to wonder – how many people had they asked for help?

“Um, I think we’re in here.” Maggie grabbed the door. With a sharp tug, she held it open for them and gave them a peak of the chaos inside.

Overlapping voices, overwhelmingly loud. A girl in a green Spidersuit hung from the ceiling with no intension of coming down. A blonde guy, super tall and screaming “Captain America” vibes was currently holding back a smaller, brunet.

That was the guy doing most of the shouting. And it wasn’t to everyone. No. It was to one guy. He was arrogant, smirking because he clearly held the power. He wasn’t shouting. He didn’t feel the need to. Instead, he shrugged and waved to the newest additions in the room.

One guy currently being shielded by two familiar faces. Monica and Sharon. They were desperately trying to calm down the screaming guy.

And then there was the last one – standing by the door. He looked over his shoulder, nodding to Terrance, Sasha, and Maggie. “Glad you could join us.”

Terrance shook his head, his elbow hitting Sasha’s rib. She hissed, rubbing her side as she muttered, “Ow.”

He gave her the look. That look that every sibling gave when they truly meant what they said next. “You owe me.”

Tag list is open? If you want? Lol

#marvel #mcu #mcu au #marvel kiddos #sharon carter #monica rambeau

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browniesarethebest · 4 years

Note

Hello! I LOVE your Reverse Batfamily AU, and i was wondering if you could write something where Dami shows openly his love and care for his little siblings in little things like helping them with homework, giving them a compliment or an advice, things like that

Edit: Sorry for the super ugly line breaks but for whatever reason html and markdown are not working for me on here so I had to improvise.

This takes place over a few weeks.

If someone were to ask what Damian Wayne was like, many would answer with aloof. Angry. Snooty. Uncaring. Damian Wayne was a man who believed everyone to be inferior. He had a sharp tongue and didn’t think twice about verbally destroying someone.

But that was Damian Wayne to outsiders. To anyone in Damian Wayne’s family, he was anything but (at least most of the time), no matter what he said.

Stephanie flopped down face first onto the couch, groaning. Damian, who had been reading in the adjacent armchair, ignored her. After a few seconds of silence, Stephanie let out another groan-–this one more exaggerated.

Damian sighed and set down his book. He wasn’t going to get any reading done anytime soon. “Is something bothering you, Brown?”

Stephanie flipped over, letting her head hang off the side of the couch as she glanced over at Damian. “Boys are stupid. I’ve said it a million times, and I’m only proven more right each time I say it.”

Damian quirked an eyebrow. “What did Henry do this time?”

Stephanie let out another exaggerated groan and slid further off the couch. “What didn’t he do? First, he ditched me at Vanessa’s party and when I finally found him, I found him making out with Lacey! Lacey, Damian!”

“Is she that harlot you’re always complaining about?”

“Yes!” Stephanie exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “She wouldn’t know a brain cell if it was the size of Gotham and it tap-danced on her face!”

“Ah.” Damian glanced over at his book and let out another sigh. No, he definitely wasn’t going to be finishing it any time soon. “Would you like me to scare her?”

Stephanie sat up, eyes shining. “Oh, would you? Could you do it where I could record it? Can you make her pee herself?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I suppose. You can’t tell Father, of course.”

“Pfft. You kidding me? Sibling honor, dude.” Stephanie held out her fist.

Damian eyed the fist before hesitantly bumping it with his own. “Right…Sibling honor.”

“Sweet! We’ll have to plan something more embarrassing for Henry…”

Damian resisted the urge to groan.

“Uggggh!”

Damian had been walking by Jason’s room when he heard the boy’s frustrated groan. He paused for a moment, which gave Jason just enough time to lean back in his chair and catch sight of the man before Damian could sneak away. “Damian!”

Damian sighed and approached Jason, who was sitting at his desk, a textbook open in front of him. “Yes, Jason?”

“This is too hard.” Jason gestured to the textbook. “Why do we even need to know about circumference or area or any of that stuff? I’m not plannin’ on bein’ an engineer!”

“Father uses it when he is solving a case.”

“What? No way.” Jason narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Prove it.”

“Let’s say the mayor is killed, and the only clue is a small hole in his head. Father needs to know the exact size of the hole in order to figure out the murder weapon used, which can be calculated using the math you are currently working on.” Jason still didn’t look convinced, so Damian continued. “You like riding in the Batmobile, correct?”

“Yeah,” Jason answered. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Father needs to know the dimensions of the parts needed in order to build and repair the car. Using the wrong parts could result in the Batmobile becoming unusable—or blowing up, depending on the part.”

“Really?” Jason asked, eyes wide.

“Really,” Damian deadpanned.

Jason huffed. “Fine. I guess it’s important then.” He sat his elbows on the desk and propped his head up in his hands. “Doesn’t make it any easier.” Jason suddenly brightened, lifting his head from his hands. “I bet I can get Tim to help!”

Damian’s lips immediately drew down into a scowl. “Were you not just asking me for help?”

“Yeah,” Damian had to resist the urge to wipe the grin off the boy’s face. “but Tim’s better at math and science. No offense.”

Damian took full offense.

“Then, I will leave you to find Drake.” Damian turned and walked out of the room.

“Hi, Dami!”

Damian, who had gone to the living room to watch the news, found Richard and Cassandra sitting around the coffee table playing some card game.

“Hello, Richard. Cassandra.” He nodded to both—with Cassandra nodding back—and sat down on the couch. He grabbed the remote to turn on the TV when he was interrupted by Richard.

“Do you wanna play with us?” the boy asked, smiling. “We’re playing Old Maid!”

Damian paused. “What is Old Maid?”

Dick gasped. “Now you hafta play!” Damian resisted the urge to groan. “It’s really easy! There’s no way to cheat either—at least I think there’s no way.

Damian set the remote down and joined Richard and Cassandra at the coffee table, crossing his legs. Dick took the cards that Cass had been holding and the cards she had laid on the table and shuffled them and his own cards into the deck. As he shuffled, he explained the rules.

“So everyone is gonna get a third of the deck and make as many pairs as possible. Once those are all placed on the table, we all take turns drawing a card from the person next to us. The goal is to get rid of all the cards in your hand. The only one you can’t make a pair with is the queen of spades. Whoever is stuck at the end with the queen of spades loses.”

This sounded like an incredibly simple and boring game to Damian. He would have liked nothing better than to leave the room, but that would make Richard cry, and as much as he hated to admit it, Damian did not like it when Richard cried.

They played 5 rounds before Damian couldn’t take anymore. He won three of them.

“Wow, you’re really good at this, Dami!” Dick exclaimed, beaming up at the man. Damian preened internally, the superiority he had felt as a child having never truly gone away.

Cass didn’t look as impressed. “Luck.”

Damian resisted the urge to scowl. “Perhaps.” For the most part, it was, but Damian was able to read whenever Richard got and lost the ‘old maid,’ so he pretty much always knew where it was. It was, however, difficult to get rid of the card whenever he had it, which was where luck came in.

Damian stood and explained that he had had enough of the game. Lucky for him, Richard didn’t seem upset by his leaving.

“Thanks for playing with us! It’s much more fun with more people.”

“You are welcome,” Damian replied. This was why Richard was his favorite. The boy was always happy to see Damian and only ever had good things to say about him. He was definitely the least annoying of his siblings.

Most of the time, anyway.

Damian, surprisingly, was not the first one at the table for breakfast. Tim was sat in his usual seat, typing away at his laptop. The artificial light made the heavy bags under his eyes stand out more than they usually did. The teen reached for his mug of coffee but found it empty. Before he could stand to refill it, Damian spoke.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

Tim’s eyes narrowed and slid over to Damian. “What’s it to you? S’not like you care.”

Damian quirked an eyebrow—he seemed to do that a lot around his family. “Normally, I wouldn’t, but you’ll give yourself a heart attack if you worsen your already terrible habits.”

Tim rolled his eyes and stood, clenching the handle of his mug tight. “Oh fuck off, Wayne.”

“Pennyworth would not like your language.”

Tim whirled around at Damian’s words, his eyes blazing in anger. “Since when do you give any sort of fuck about what’s going on with me? I’m not Dick or Jason or one of the girls. I’m Drake, the first replacement. Inferior in every way to the perfect Damian Wayne.” Tim clenched his mug even tighter, his fingers turning white with the pressure. “From day one, I’ve known you haven’t given one shit about what I think or do.” Tim turned back around and headed for the kitchen. “Honestly, I would think you’d be happy if I had a heart attack. Tim took one step into the kitchen and froze as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Dr—Timothy,” Damian said hesitantly. “The first few years you were here were not…my best impression. I’ll admit, I loathed you. I didn’t understand why Father took you in when he already had me. And when he let you join his crusade? I was livid.” The fingers on Tim’s shoulder dug in, but Tim knew it wasn’t to hurt him. He still wasn’t looking at Damian when the man continued, “I did feel replaced. I wanted you to go away, and then…you did.”

Tim swallowed. He didn’t like to remember that time, being tortured by Joker (He still had faint scars at his temples from the madman’s “shock therapy.”). He had been so close to breaking when Bruce and Damian and Steph (who had been dressing up as Batgirl but hadn’t quite moved into the Manor yet) had burst in. The absolute relief he had felt when he was in Steph’s arms had sent him into hysterics.

Tim had never really gotten over it.

“When faced with the reality of losing you and what it would do to Father, I regretted my actions.” Damian drew his hand back and let it rest at his side as he turned his head away, not wanting to look at Timothy. “There are times when I still feel anger, and I know the damage I have done is irreparable, but I am trying to be better.”

“I…” Tim was speechless. He didn’t think he had ever heard Damian speak so much that wasn’t condescending or angry.

“If you died, everyone would be devastated.” Damian cleared his throat awkwardly. “There wouldn’t be anyone for Richard and Jason to take their energy out on.”

Tim felt a giggle slip out before he could stop it. He was way too tired. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

Damian glanced over at Tim. “Perhaps.”

Tim laughed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you make one.”

Damian turned and scowled, but Tim could see the man was fighting a smile. “You all have been bad influences.”

Tim’s continued to laugh until it was cut off by a yawn.

“So now that you know I do not ‘hate your guts’ as Jason would say, will you go to bed?”

“I…okay.” Tim set his mug down on the counter. “I am pretty tired.” He bit his lip and glanced behind him toward where his laptop would be in the dining room. “Though I really shouldn’t leave the drug smuggling case until I’ve figured it out.”

Damian grabbed Tim’s shoulder again and pushed him out of the kitchen. “I will take a look and see if I can solve it myself. Go to bed. You would not want Alfred to see you in this state, would you?”

Tim chuckled but let Damian lead him toward the stairs. “No. No, I would not.”

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vibratingbones · 4 years

Text

Theorie about Aaravos’s prison

!!! WARNING : English is not my native language, I’m deeply sorry for all the mistakes I’ve missed after re-reading miself !!!

Do you think Aaravos could be imprisoned in another dimension ?

Hear me out !

So, we know that Aaravos is powerful, intelligent and, considering his long life, I’m going to assume he is an erudit. (Keep this in mind)

But he, himself, claims that he doesn’t know where he is. And tha’ts pretty weird since he has maps at his disposal.

At the very least, he should be able to say if he is on the human’s side or the elf’s side of the continent with the fauna and the flora aroud his location (are they magic species : Y/N ?) and erases 50% of the posibilities.

Assuming Xadia is similar to Earth with differents climates, weathers, landscapes, animals and vegetals species, rivers, constellations,... By combining all those datas, his own knowledges and the informations on his books, he SHOULD be able to say “I am in this area precisely !”.

But he doesn’t.

And it’s troubling him a lot. How he, the almighty Aaravos, could be unnable to locate his own position ?

Look at his face

He genuinely confuses.

Knowing who he is, this is a huge clue about the complexity of his prison.

Irritating reader : There is no way he could gather all those infos. He is in JAIL : He can’t just walk outside to determinate where he is, someone would have stopped him immediately !

But we already know he is alone :

Meaning : There is no jailer on his side to monitor him ! He is completely free of his movements !

I REPEAT : THERE IS NO GUARD TO WATCH OVER HIM !!!!

First : I found this really alarming

and two : It implies that the ones who had imprisoned him have found a place which could contains this threat without needing the presence of a third party.

... SERIOUSLY ?! This is not your average human mage, but the Archmage Aaravos who had mastered all the forms of magic. You must have a GREAT confidence on you’re jail to let him without any supervision.

Irritating reader : So you are saying he can leave this building and walk under the moon freely ? Like, he is on a random place isolated from the rest of the world by a magic field like Wonder Woman ?

No, I’m saying that he can’t leave his “apartment” to gather clues because there is noting outside of his “appartment”.

Irritating reader : ... You are serious ? There is a beautiful window in his office which let enter the warm sunlight and we can see a structure through it. Il also has its reflection on the floor !

Indeed, you are right.

Only, this is NOT a real window.

I invite you to rewatch the scene where Aaravos discovers Viren is watching him and to focus on that “window”, because this is a really odd one.

Notice the light sources in the image above : the window, the fire and a candelabra (which doesn’t seems really useful next to the supposed window.)

Candles on

Candles off

When he is about to leave the room, he turns off the candelabra, and the office turns way too darker compared to the size of the chandelier and the light it is supposed to provide. But most of all, the window itself provides suddenly less light.

And when he stifles the fire of the chimney...

The room turns com-ple-te-ly dark.

The light of the outside is gone with the light of the room. I think we can all agree : this is not a natural behavior for light.

If he was actually in Xadia, it would implies that he just turns off the sun to see through the mirror, and there would have been huuuuge consequences.

Therefore, the “windows light” is directly controlled by the light within the room, A.K.A. when HE is in the room.

The window is not a real one, the light and the environnement we see through it aren’t more real : it’s an illusion of an outside world when he is standing in the room, and it disapear when he left (more precisely when he turns off all the light). Nothing beyound the walls of the building really exist.

Why ? Because his entire prison is a made up dimension, created by his opponents.

Irritating reader : Whoooohooow... Calm down. A made-up dimension ? Soon you’re gonna say he knows how to travel through time. Let’s say he isn’t really “in” Xadia, why would he be in another dimension than in his cube like other fans have already talk about ?

I remember this theorie (wich is a suuuper cool one !), but I would like you to consider my idea and to make your mind.

This is his key. He created it, and I’m almost sure it is “bound” to him intimately, it’s almost a representation of his magic. If he was actually trapped in it, I am sure he will “feel” it.

But first thing first, how could I claim there is "another dimension” in TDP’s lore ?

Season 2 Episode 1 :

Excuuuuuuuse me Lujanne ? Could you please elaborate more, my dear ?

Unfortunately, the writers cut short the discussion, but they still let this drowned under other details.

Aaravos, that I consider to be a savant in magic, certainly knows about it and he would have recognize the place if it was his prison.

Now, I don’t really see how opening a magic portal could be a Moonshadow thing exclusively, and the official site of TDP confirmed the six primal sources have their own Nexus. Maybe each one of the Nexus can do it ?

So : What if every Nexus have been used, combined with the dragon’s power, to create a sustainable area for a living being in the “shimmering world” ? (a “world beyond life and death” doesn’t sound like a very good place to move out for the next centuries...)

An area that should not exist, building in the greatest secrecy, to host someone for a long period of time, with some windows who brought the illusion of an external world to preserve the mental health of the prisonner (because his already dangerous enough with all his sanity).

THE END !!!!

Pfiouuuuuu, it was a long one. Thank you for reading to the end, I hope I didn’t forget anything.

I am sorry again for all the mistakes.

I would love to discuss it with you !! :)

#tdp #tdp aaravos #aaravos #the dragon prince #moon nexus #theories #just speculating #big mess #surely false #tdp cartoon #netflix #netflix show #too tired to think

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dem-obscure-imagines · 5 years

Text

The Time-Traveler’s Daughter

Prince Zuko x Reader Summary: You are where history and prophecy collide, the daughter of a time traveler and a witch, and this has done nothing but cause problems...But maybe getting stuck in another dimension isn’t the worst thing to happen to you. Note: I will probably use this reader again. I don’t know, I just really like this concept. Warnings: None? I’m a hoe for Zuko as usual lmao. (I went way overboard. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think this is the longest one-shot I’ve ever written for this blog) Word Count: 6k

Being the child of a dimension-hopping time traveler and a witch who knew better had given you quite possibly the strangest childhood you could have ever asked for. Your father’s friends from all over history and the universe were always popping in for a visit, and your mother’s ancestry granted you an education at a magical boarding school.

It was the summer just after your graduation, and so each of your parents had decided to give you a gift. Your mother’s gift was her own coming of age necklace, a powerful amulet that had been passed down from woman to woman, all the way down her side of the family. Your father, as always, had invented something of his own for you, a watch.

This was no ordinary watch, however. The large steel device allowed the wearer to time travel or travel through dimensions as they pleased. It harnessed the same technology his metal glove did. Your mother was a bit on the fence about this gift, but your father insisted that it was time for you to explore and have your own adventures. After all, if he hadn’t gone out to explore the universe, he would have never met your mother.

So, she relented and let you try it out. That was, perhaps, why you were blacked out in a dimension that wasn’t your own. Your head hurt something fierce, and by the time you started to open your eyes, there were two familiar strangers hovering over you. The first was older, his friendly features obscured by a white beard. The second was around your age, shaggy dark brown hair partially hiding his fierce amber eyes. A scar stretched across the right side of his face.

“Oh my God…” You groaned, struggling to sit up.

“I’ll get you some tea. Please be careful.” The first stranger, someone you recognized as Iroh from your years of watching Avatar as a child, told you. “You’ve been asleep for a long while.”

“You’re...Iroh and Zuko…” You mumbled, looking at each of them for a moment. Zuko’s eyes widened and he looked to his uncle for some clue about what to do. Depending on when in their timeline you’d found them, that might have not been the best thing to say. “I’m...I’m not from around here. I don’t know how I got HERE of all places…”

“I thought you were dressed a little strange.” Iroh noted, chuckling to himself. He didn’t seem bothered about your comment, nor the fact that you knew who they were while they were pretending to be simple refugees as opposed to powerful fire-benders. “I’ve never seen clothes like those before.”

In most dimensions, your gray hoodie, black t-shirt, and ripped jeans would have been more than normal. Of course you found yourself in the one where they weren’t. And then there was the matter of your watch, which upon further inspection was broken, sparking and jolting when you rushed to take it off. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Zuko jolted at your sudden outburst.

“It’s broken! Oh my God, my mom’s gonna kill me! I...” You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself. “I can’t get home without it. It’s broken, so I’m...stuck here.”

“What do you mean you’re stuck here? It’s just a bracelet. I’m sure if you explained to your mom--”

“You don’t understand, Zuko. That watch is...the reason I’m here. It’s like a portal. And without it, I can’t get home.” You looked to Iroh. “I, uh...wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t from around here…”

“You’re from another world, then…” Iroh thought about it for a long moment, passing a warm cup of tea to you. “That is quite the pickle. Well, you’re more than welcome to stay with us until you find a way home. Zuko, find our guest something...suitable to wear. Wouldn’t want to draw attention.”

“Thank you.” You were still floored that this was your reality. Your whole childhood, you’d looked up to Iroh. His wisdom and kindness were values you’d appreciated forever. And Zuko...well, it wouldn’t be too far off to say he’d been one of your first crushes, despite the fact that he was animated. Of course, now he was in the flesh in front of you, and it was...different. You couldn’t deny the fact that the prince was handsome.

Zuko left to go to the market and get you something that wouldn’t make you stand out in Ba Sing Se. Meanwhile, Iroh asked about where you’d come from.

“My father is like me. A dimension-hopper. He made my watch as a graduation present. Where I’m from, you and Zuko...you’re fictional.”

“Fictional, you say? Very interesting…” He took a sip from his tea. “So how did you come to know about us, then, if we’re fictional in your universe?”

“Well, you two are characters in one of my favorite cartoons growing up.” You thought for a second. This world you’d found yourself in was very technologically behind the one you’d come from. “Cartoons are like...drawings that move. And they have sound. It’s...hard to explain, I’m sorry.”

“Cartoons sound incredible! It must be such an interesting world, where you’re from.”

“It is, yeah. Where I’m from, the only people with powers are witches like my mom. Like...me. I always thought benders were so cool. The idea that you can just control the elements is so cool.”

“You have magic?!” The old man’s features lit up. “Would it be out of the question to see some?”

“Of course not, um…” You thought for a moment before letting go of your tea cup and letting it float in front of you. When you did it, the amulet around your neck glowed. “I can’t do much. My staff is back home, but without it, I can do some little things. If I had it, I could just...fix my watch. Without it, though, I guess I’ll just have to figure it out.”

“Zuko could probably take you to the market tomorrow to look for parts. Someone around here must have something that could help.”

“What about me?” Zuko entered the house, closing the door behind him. He had a bundle of clothes tucked under his arm. He handed it to you. “I wasn’t sure what size you are, but I think those should fit.”

“Thank you.”

“We were just discussing the matter of (Y/N)’s broken watch.” Iroh explained, motioning to the device that was still sparking every few seconds. “She needs some parts to fix it. I wondered if maybe you could take her to the market tomorrow to get some spare parts for it.”

“Sure.” He shrugged, sitting between you and his uncle. Your heart lurched, and so, you stood up to go to the spare room and change into these new garments. Zuko had found you some naturally colored undergarments with a green dress that went over top. You used some clips to pull your hair back and folded your clothes from home before returning to where Zuko and Iroh were sitting.

The way they both stopped talking and looked up at you when you returned made it obvious what they had been talking about. Well, that, and Zuko’s interested statement, “You’re a witch, too?”

“I’m a lot of things.” You laughed, tucking your folded clothes into the corner of the room with your backpack. “Did Iroh tell you the other thing?”

“That we don’t exist? Yeah, he did.” Zuko looked uncertain as he said it.

“It’s not that you don’t exist.” You walked back to the table and sat down next to him. “My dad explained it to me when I was young like this: there are a lot of dimensions in our universe, and sometimes they leak into each other. Sure, you don’t exist in MY world, but you do exist here. If we’re being technical, most of my dad’s friends technically don’t exist where I’m from, my mother included.”

“Really?”

“Hell, I technically went to school in a whole dimension that isn’t supposed to exist.”

“Well, I guess that makes me feel a little better.” He laughed and shook his head, smiling softly. “It must be weird to...meet the villain from your favorite childhood thing.”

“You’re not the villain.” You told him with an amused chuckle.

He looked genuinely surprised. “I’m...I’m not?”

“Not even close.”

Iroh smiled to himself, going to the other room to get some sleep while you talked with his nephew.

“So...If I’m not the villain, then who is?”

“Your dad.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” He nodded. “So I’m, what, I’m some minor villain then?”

“In season one you were. Kind of. Although that’s arguable, even.” You shook your head, taking in his face in the quiet. There were crickets chirping outside. “I mean, sure, you’ve done some questionable things, but...honestly, you have one of the best redemption arcs in history.”

“Redemption arc?” He laughed. “Me? Really? Me?”

“Really. You’re a fan favorite.”

“People like me?”

“People more than ‘like’ you.” Your cheeks flushed, thinking about it. That you were sitting on the floor next to the love of your seven-year-old life.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Goodnight, Zuko.” You got up and walked to the bedroom, settling into the bedroll Iroh had set up for you.

“Night…” He watched you go, a surprised smirk settling onto his handsome features. Maybe he’d have to investigate that some more…

***

The next morning, Zuko decided to make breakfast for you and Iroh, which judging from the slight burning smell coming from the pan, you learned was not a usual thing.

“I’m really sorry. I tried.”

“Thank you, Zuko.” You laughed, eating it anyway. It wasn’t great, but it was edible, and that was really all that mattered. “It’s actually pretty alright.”

“Thanks. Just, uh, trying to get that redemption arc on a roll.”

“What’s this about a redemption arc?” Iroh asked, amused, as he drank his tea.

“Nothing, Uncle. After breakfast, I’m taking (Y/N) to the marketplace.”

And so, he did. The prince of the Fire Nation led you through the rows of stalls, and you diligently searched for any merchant that might have a little box full of gears and metal bits. Zuko watched you as you went, an unsure expression on his face. How was it that this stranger had wandered into his life and changed so much? Good, changes, sure, but changes no less.

Your face lit up as you approached the stall of an inventor. Among his wares, there was a box filled with itty bitty gears and pieces, exactly what you were looking for.

“Sir, how much for the...box of gears?” Zuko asked, his hand on your shoulder, essentially claiming you in front of the locals.

“Oh, those? Couldn’t find a use for them, I’m afraid. My eyesight went years ago, so I don’t have the patience to deal with such small parts. If they make the girl happy, then take them. They’ll do you more good than they ever have me.”

“Thank you so much, sir. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” The kind old man handed you the box and winked at Zuko. “She’s a keeper, that one. You’ve got yourself an inventor on your hands, boy. Be careful not to lose her.”

“Believe me, sir, I will.” He smiled and the two of you turned, faces flushed, as you walked back home. “Thank you. For playing along.” He said once the market was far enough away.

“Gotta blend in somehow.” You nodded. Of course. Of course that was what had happened. The two of you were just blending in. The love of your childhood life had certainly not just claimed you as his sweetheart in front of an entire market full of people.

When you got back to the house, Iroh was reading, his cup steaming with a fresh cup of tea. You moved your watch to the table and set the box of gears down. In your backpack, you had a pair of tweezers and some goggles, so you put them on and set to work, carefully pulling out the broken pieces and searching the box for suitable replacements.

Zuko watched as you worked, amazed that someone could know how to manipulate such tiny pieces. “How did you...learn how to do that?”

“Many years of practice. My dad is kind of the best inventor ever. He taught me everything I know.”

“Mmm…” Zuko nodded. He wondered what it was like to have a loving relationship with your father. After all, he’d never really gotten that. His mother had been one of the kindest people he knew, but once she’d exited his life, he was left with Ozai, and...well, the rest was history.

“Speaking of parents...there’s a moon in this dimension, right?” You asked. “That’s a dumb question, of course there’s a moon here.”

“There is. Why?” Iroh asked.

“Well, I have to contact my mom. You know, tell her I’m alright. She was worried about this whole dimension hopping thing.”

“Ah, I see.” Iroh nodded. “Well, I’m sure we can help you if you need it.”

“Thank you. Seriously, thank you both. You’ve done so much for me.”

“Well, showing you some basic kindness is the least we can do. I can’t imagine what would have happened to you if someone else had found you.” Iroh lamented on it, humming to himself.

“Me either.”

You tinkered away for a few more minutes before finally finishing. “I think I did it.” You sat up straighter, wrapping the watch around your wrist and looking it over.

“You’re done?” Zuko asked, watching as you stood and started to gather your things. “That was...quick.” You pretended not to notice the disappointment on his face.

“Yeah, I don’t think it was as broken as I thought it was. Well...here goes. Thank you for everything. I’ll come visit if I can.”

“You’re welcome here any time.” Iroh promised.

You let your eyes linger on each of them for a second longer before adjusting the settings and pressing the button on the watch. For a few moments, it whirred the way it was supposed to. And then...everything went wrong. The metal started to get hot. Really hot. The device groaned, pieces grinding against each other. You ripped it off of your wrist and threw it out the window, just in time too, because only a moment later, you heard a loud BOOM and then a cry of “MY CABBAGES!”

“Maybe my...calculations were off.”

“Maybe.” Zuko nodded, looking out the window and then back at you. There was some little piece in him that couldn’t help but be glad you weren’t leaving just yet…

***

When dark fell, Zuko took you beyond the city walls. It was a clear night. The stars reflected off of the little pond, and inside the crystal waters was the image of the crescent moon. You walked over and knelt beside it, reaching out to skim your fingertips along the surface, letting the waters ripple out from you.

When the image cleared again, your reflection was replaced with your mother’s. She looked at you with concern.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine, mom. I just thought I’d check in, let you know where I landed. I’m in the Avatar universe. My watch broke on impact.”

“BROKE?!”

You winced at her outburst of panic. “It’s fine, though. Dad said I’d have to learn how to fix it, so why not now?”

She wasn’t listening to you, though. “That’s it, I’m sending your father to pick you up right now—”

“Mom, you don’t even have to. Seriously, it’s fine. Don’t send Dad. I need to figure this out on my own.”

She looked at you, tilting her head in that way that she did when she was deciding to be angry or proud of you. Eventually, she caved. “Fine. I’m not sending your father. But…you call me if you can’t figure it out and I’ll send him in a heartbeat. You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

You looked to Zuko, smiling softly when he looked at you with those sharp golden eyes. “Believe me, Mom. I’m not alone.”

You talked with her for a few more minutes before finally dismissing her aura and standing up again. Zuko stood up beside you, looking down at you, waiting for one of you to break the silence somehow.

“You’re taller than I expected you to be.” You told him.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s weird that…you know, you knew who I was before. Maybe not weird, just…you know.”

“No, it’s definitely weird. I used to watch your cartoon every single day before school. They used to play reruns in the mornings while I was eating breakfast. My parents had to basically drag me away so I could actually catch the bus.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.” You nodded, and the two of you began the long walk back to the safety of the city walls. But not before running into a bit of trouble first.

“What have we got here? The fire prince and his little damsel in distress? I wonder how much we could get for the two of you…” A group of bandits had formed around the two of you. You looked up at Zuko, his eyes blown wide with panic before melting into the confidence he so often had. Flames tickled his palms before igniting in his hands.

You didn’t have any weapons, no watch, no swords of any kind. You were lucky, though, that the two of you were standing back to back beneath the branches of a great tree. You reached a hand up and the tree seemed to kneel under your control, one of the limbs dipping down, down, down until the wood was gripped tight in your hand. The end of the thin branch snapped off, leaves flying off as the new staff formed, twisting and bending to your will.

“What kind of bending is THAT?” One of the bandits’ very panicked voice asked.

“Oh, I’m not a bender.” You replied, fingers tightening around your staff while the tree stood itself upright again. “But you’re going to wish I was.”

And then the battle broke out. Zuko’s flames blazed any of the bandits that dared to get close to him, punching fireballs at anyone who got too close to you. Meanwhile, you were using your staff, which was nowhere near as powerful as the one you had at home, to send the bandits back with waves of sheer power. Needless to say, they hadn’t ever seen anything quite like the two of you.

A few minutes later, all that was left was a scorched field, a panting fire bender, a tired witch, and a trail of bandits making a run for the woods.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?!” Zuko turned to you excitedly.

You rested your staff against the ground and looked up at him. “My mom.”

“Figures.” He chuckled. “You’re good. And you’ll have to be if you’re going to stay with us until we get your bracelet fixed. Uncle Iroh and I…”

“I know. You’re in a bit of trouble. Maybe you need someone like me looking out for you, huh?”

“Yeah, just maybe…”

***

It didn’t take long for you to fall into a rhythm. In the mornings, Iroh would make tea while you helped teach Zuko how to cook breakfast. After that, Zuko ran the store they were using as a front with his uncle and you helped tidy up a bit. It was only at night that you tinkered with your watch some more. Well, that, or Zuko would take you out to the field to practice fighting. After all, you had a staff to break in.

Fight practice led you to be caught in some precarious positions. Only a few nights ago, you’d wound up pinned beneath him, his breath warm across your cheeks, his shaggy bangs hanging in your face. Something in you lurched, your heart doing a backflip. Never had you imagined, despite your unusual childhood, that you’d ever end up there, your wrists pinned down by rough, warm hands, breaths shallow, lips aching for his. But neither of you acted on it.

Your magic was getting stronger by the day as you became less dependent on your primary staff and learned how to use this new one. Every time you cast a spell, Zuko noticed, the amulet around your neck would glow, as would your eyes. You would meditate on sunny afternoons, and when you did, your form would hover a few feet above the ground. It was mesmerizing to watch, and he often did, only caught by you a few times, causing him to leave the room red-faced, babbling some excuse about going to find his uncle.

Zuko wasn’t sure what it was about you, but he trusted you. He supposed he had to, since you were living in their house after all. Given that he and his uncle were wanted fugitives, trust was a thing they had to be careful with. Yet, the longer you stayed, the less he wanted you to leave…and the less YOU wanted to leave.

In all of your days there, you had yet to see Aang or Katara of Sokka or any other members of the main cast. Just Zuko and Iroh. Not that you were complaining. The fire prince and his uncle were more than fine with you and they had been nothing if not welcoming.

It had been a few weeks since you’d woken up in this place. You were sitting by the window, looking out at the starry sky. Zuko walked in so quietly you didn’t hear him and he sat down beside you, watching the way your features flickered in the light of the lantern.

“Would it be awful…if I said I didn’t want you to leave?” Zuko asked quietly, his voice soft and his expression softer.

“I’d love to stay, Zuko, but…you have a destiny. One that doesn’t involve me, I’m afraid.”

“Mmm.” He nodded. “Right. You know everything that happens, then.”

“Just about.”

“And this…your visit?”

“Not part of the plan.”

“But a pleasant addition.” He amended, reaching out to rest his hand on top of yours. He was so warm, endlessly warm, a result of the flames raging inside him. How someone so broken could be so soft, you weren’t sure, but he was. You were certain you’d never met anyone with a kinder soul. “I could just…go with you.”

“They wouldn’t win the war without you.” You whispered, shaking your head. You looked away from him and instead locked your eyes on the sky. “They need you, Zuko. Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph…they all need you.”

“Please don’t leave me.” He pleaded. “Please…”

“Zuko, what am I supposed to do? If I stay here, I’m putting you in danger. I’m putting your whole WORLD in danger! You’re so important to this place. So, so important…”

“So are you!”

“No I’m not!”

“You’re important to me!” Zuko shouted. It was the first time you’d heard him raise his voice the whole time you’d been there. Sure, he’d had little spats with his uncle here and there, but never like this. There were flames flickering in the golden irises you’d come to love. His expression softened when he saw how tense you were. He reached out with a gentle hand and stroked your cheek. “You’re important to me…”

“I can’t be. I’m not supposed to be. I’m not even supposed to exist…”

“But you do. You’re here and so am I. Why can’t you just—”

“You’re supposed to end up with Mai.” You interrupted. He went quiet for a moment. You could have cut the tension with a knife. “She’s your endgame. Not me. You’re going to end up with her and forget all about me.”

“I don’t want Mai anymore.”

“What do you mean you don’t—”

“I want YOU.” Zuko leaned closer. “I don’t want Mai. I want you. Don’t you feel the same?”

“It’s not about my feelings, Zuko, it’s about your future.” You fought the tears that were welling in your eyes, blurring his face.

He was quiet for a long time, thinking. “You can leave this place. You can go home. But once we win the war, I’m going to come find you. I don’t care what it takes.”

***

You could only stall on your watch for so long without letting it be noticeable, but you knew the longer you stayed, the more it would hurt when you finally left. So, after a few tests and the aid of your growing magic, you decided you were finally ready to go back.

“You know you’re welcome here any time. We could use a witch around the house.” Iroh told you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I know I’ll see you again. I’ll be sure to come visit sometime.”

“You better. I’ll miss you if you don’t.”

Zuko stood there quietly for a moment, waiting for his moment with you. Once Iroh had said goodbye, he left the two of you alone, and it was silent for a little while. Then, Zuko took a step closer, hesitating before reaching out to take your hand. Zuko let out a long sigh.

“You…don’t have to leave, you know. You could stay a little longer.”

“If I stay any longer, it’s just going to hurt both of us more.”

“Yeah…” He was quiet, tilting your chin up so you were looking at him, into those fierce golden eyes one last time. Zuko let his eyes drift shut as he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours for the first and last time. Then, he murmured softly. “I’m going to find you after the war. I don’t know how or where, but I will. I promise.”

“I hope you do.” You whispered back, tears welling in your eyes as you kissed him one more time. And then another. And then one last kiss for the road, and then before you knew it, you were activating your watch. There was a flash of light and then you were standing in your backyard, knees trembling until you fell to the ground, finally letting your tears flow as you realized that he was gone. You’d never see Zuko again.

***

It was quiet in the house without you. Dark. Empty. Zuko missed you. He missed your glowing eyes, your fierce energy, the sight of you floating in the sunlight streaming through the window. This place was so different now. He thought he’d be ready for it, but he wasn’t. He never could have been.

“You miss her.” Iroh noted, watering one of his plants. Zuko only nodded. “So do I.”

It was then that there was a bright flash of light. The same kind that had happened when you’d left him. Zuko sat upright, preparing himself for whatever or whoever was standing there, but to his disappointment, it wasn’t you. However, the stranger standing there did resemble you a bit.

“Are you Zuko?” The man asked, looking over the fire prince. Scar, check. Shaggy dark hair, check. Forlorn look in his fiery eyes, check. This had to be the outcast prince you were so heartbroken over.

“Y-yes, sir. Who are you?”

“I’m (Y/N)’s dad.” He offered the teenager his hand, and he shook it, unsure. “She doesn’t know I’m here, before you ask, and no, I’m not here to take you to her.”

“Oh.” Zuko deflated slightly, listening for what else the dimension-hopper had to say.

“I came to give you this.” He pressed a small metal token into Zuko’s palm. “After the war, use this, and it will take you to her. You’ll know what to do.”

“But how do I—” Before Zuko could finish his question, the inventor was gone as fast as he’d come, leaving him standing there wide-eyed, gripping the disc tightly in his hand. He couldn’t lose this. It was his only chance.

***

For the summer solstice, as you had every year since you were young, you helped your mother prepare the back yard, put up tables, string up streamers, tape balloons into place. You helped her cook food and make punch and make sure everything was just right for when all of her witch friends came over to celebrate.

You were wearing your nicest summer gown. It was yellow, knee-length, and the fabric was covered in butterflies, a crown of enchanted flowers sitting in the curls of your hair. Everything was perfect. Well, everything except for one thing. You’d gotten home from the Avatar dimension about a month ago, and still, you were stuck in a post-Zuko gloom. You didn’t think it was possible to miss someone so much.

You weren’t sure why it was, exactly, that the fire prince had captured your heart. You hadn’t stayed with Zuko and his uncle for all that long. You had only kissed the one time before you left. And yet, you couldn’t help running through all of the memories: that day in the market, your first fight side by side, practicing combat with him in the field outside the city once the sun had gone down, and it was just you, the prince, and the stars. You thought of every meal you shared, every stolen glance, every flicker in the golden amber of his eyes.

There had been a time, once, when Zuko had gotten a cut on his face. Some squabble with some man in the market had resulted in the prince being on the receiving end of a knife. He’d come to you, a little blood dripping from the wound, claiming it to be nothing. The cut had been just above the top of his scar, something you knew he was sensitive about.

“Can I?” You’d asked gently, and he’d nodded, leading your hands up to the spot. Your fingers brushed against his reddened skin as you used your magic to heal him, reducing the bleeding gash to nothing more than a faint white scar.

That was the first time the two of you had been that physically close before, face to face, his lips only a step away. The next was the sparring match near the woods that had led to him pinning you down in the grass. Your heart raced, remembering how it felt to have him. And God, it still hurt.

Liking Zuko had been so much simpler when you were seven and he was a cartoon.

“It gets easier.” Your mother whispered, embracing you from behind. She kissed your cheek tenderly before letting go of you. “I know it hurts now, but it will get easier. You have a universe of possibilities at your fingertips. There’s no need to get tangled up in one boy.”

And you knew she was right. What you were, both halves of what you were, gave you quite the variety of opportunities. But it still hurt.

One flick of her wrist sent the gate at the front of the yard flying open, and minutes later, your mother’s witchiest friends started filing in, mingling with each other under the sun’s bright light. Your father was bouncing around, too, chit-chatting. Some of his friends from other dimensions had shown up, as had some of your school friends, who were dying to hear about your experiences dimension-hopping.

“So uh, have you ever…you remember that cartoon Avatar?”

“The one with the blue people?” One of your friends, Jacob, asked.

You laughed and shook your head as your friend Amber corrected him. “Avatar with the blue people wasn’t a cartoon. She means the one with the four elements and the little bald kid with the arrow on his forehead.”

“Yeah, that one.”

“What about it?” Jay asked, watching your expression. Usually when one of you brought up a childhood show, it was met with waves of nostalgia, not…whatever look you had on your face. “Oh my God, is that where you went?”

“It’s kind of a long story, but yeah.”

“Oh my God, is Sokka as handsome as I remember him being?” Amber gasped.

“Wait, wait, wait, you had a crush on SOKKA? Not Mr. Fine-Ass Firebending Prince of my Heart?” Jade held her heart like she’d just been shot. “Zuko is so hot. No pun intended.”

“And that look has to be for something…” Jacob studied your face when the topic had changed.

“No way, you met Zuko?” Amber’s expression softened.

“I…yeah, you could say that.” Before anyone could ask anything else, you grabbed Jade’s hand and dashed over to the dancefloor, pushing all of the thoughts out of your head and instead giving into the beat of the music. Time didn’t exist anymore, which was evident by just how fast the sun seemed to set, igniting the sky with orange.

Eventually, you wandered to the edge of the dancefloor, where Amber and Jade were. You could tell they were curious, and you couldn’t hide from the questions forever, so in the reds and pinks of the setting sun and the flickering lights of the candles on the tables, you decided to surrender to their inquiries.

“So…what exactly happened between you? You don’t have to answer—”

“I kissed him.”

“You AAAAAAH! Oh my God! Tell us everything!!!” Amber squealed.

“You kissed Zuko.” Jade stated, dumbstruck. “You Kissed him. With your lips.”

“Yeah.” You giggled, shrugging. “I kissed a prince.”

“You kissed a prince.”

“So…are you going to bippity boppity boo yourself back to him?”

“I can’t.” You shook your head. “When I got to him, he and his uncle were still pretending to be refugees. The war hadn’t ended yet, and by the time it does, he’ll probably be in love with Mai. I’m…I’m never going to see him again…”

“Now, why would you say that?”

Your eyes widened, and you traced Jade and Amber’s gazes to a spot behind you. Your racing heart had prevented you from noticing the bright flash of light.

“Holy shit…” Jade murmured, covering her mouth. You were almost too afraid to look.

“Zuko…” You whispered, voice catching in your throat. You felt a large, warm hand on your shoulder. As much as you wanted to turn around to look at him, you couldn’t move. You were paralyzed, frozen by the fear that if you looked, he wouldn’t be there.

Footsteps trailed through the grass, walking around you until he was standing in front of you, as real as you remembered him. His hair was a bit longer now, shaggier, almost hiding his gorgeous amber eyes from you. But his smile was still there, as rare and precious as his smiles tended to be.

His voice was soft and gentle, as gentle as the large hand that rose to stroke your cheek. “We won the war, princess. I told you I’d come find you.”

Instead of replying, you launched yourself into his arms, causing him to let out a soft ‘oof’, his strong arms fastening tight around you. “H-how are you here? H-how did y-you--?”

“Aww, don’t cry,” he cooed, stroking your hair as he teased, “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I missed you s-so much…” You cried, shaking as he held you like you were the only thing in all of the worlds that mattered. “I t-think I love you, Zuko.”

“I know you do.” He chuckled. “I love you, too. Took us long enough to say it, huh?”

You pulled your face out of the crook of his neck and stroked his cheek, turning his face towards yours. He smiled softly before leaning closer and closing the distance between you. The crowd of people in your backyard cheered when they saw you and the prince of the Fire Nation locked into an embrace.

“Oh my god, she’s dating Zuko.” Jade whispered to Amber. After only seeing the prince in cartoon form, it was strange to see him here, living and breathing, and as real as you were.

“She’s done what every cartoon-loving little girl has ever wanted to.” Amber agreed.

“I can’t believe you’re here…” You whispered, brushing the bangs out of his face. His hair was a bit longer than when you’d last seen him. You wondered how much time had passed since you left.

“But that’s a good thing, right?”

“A really, really good thing.” You nodded, stroking his cheek as you studied his features, his arms still tight around your waist.

“Good. Because I don’t plan on leaving you any time soon.”

You pecked his lips. “Good.”

Tagged: @rikersgirl22

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #atla #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla imagine

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courtneyyharper · 4 years

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10 Christmas Gifts ‘for her’ if you’re completely clueless

Since it's apparently time to start thinking about that time of year I thought I'd jump on and attempt to give you some help in an attempt to spark some ideas. Whether you're using this list for ideas for your other half, your mum or sister, or even if you are that person that likes something on this list why don't you send it over as a wee hint... the irony of this is that I've banned my boyfriend from looking at this list as there's a few spoilers on here for his gifts! (Hope he enjoys a wee eyeshadow palette😬).

So let’s start...

1. AIRPODS

I'm sure this will be a big gift this year and a perfect gift if you know they'll be getting a new phone or laptop! Perfect for a music lover or just the person that always needs to have the next big thing! I'd recommend planning to get a pair of these bad boys from Amazon or Currys during the Black Friday sale.

2. STUDIO LIGHT

A gift my mum got me unexpectedly a few years back and I haven't looked back. Not just for the MUA or photography student in your life but even just for every day make up application and I know my friends always use mine for checking their outfits or taking selfies before a night out! I've shown in the product photo how you can get a full sized one or a desk sized one easily on Amazon, your choice. Along this line would also be a Hollywood mirror, the big vanity mirrors with the bright lights installed but they can be hard to source as they're so popular and you need to make sure they're the bright studio lights. Top tip would just be to check the dimensions so you know what you're getting.

3. POLAROID CAMERA

I wanna say this is a cult favourite. I don't know many girls who don't have one of these now but if your gift recipient is one of them then it'd be a great gift! They're a great idea for Christmas, birthdays and anniversaries because it means you can capture the memories and of course ironically take a photo of the polaroid with your phone and post it to Instagram!! They come in a variety of colours and you can purchase accessories and refillable polaroid packs for other special occasions after, making it the gift that keeps on giving.

4. VINYL PLAYERS

Another gift that keeps on giving. If they're a real music lover and always have Spotify going in their room, and with the lack of concerts this year, this would be a very thoughtful gift. You can get these lads pretty cheap on Amazon or fork out for the pricey ones from UO. The only downside is that the actual Vinyl records themselves is where this gifts will cost you the most, but at least you'll always have an idea for next years present.

5. FOREVER ROSES

Now these guys can be quite boujee and I remember them being really popular a few years ago. If you type 'forever roses' into google or, probably better yet, Instagram you'll get a lot of companies selling gift sets of these specially preserved roses that can last for years. An incredibly romantic and surprising gift, this one can cost you big bucks but if you shop around enough you can get single roses for around £20 or major bunches for a few hundred but it's sure to win you major brownie points.

6. LUSH

This is the standard gift and perfect for a Christmas Eve bath. If you couldn't come up with this present on your own then please pay close attention to this blog because oh buddy you will need it! There are so many gift boxes to choose from at Lush and the great thing is you can't go wrong with any of them. Not to worry if you don't have a bath too because I also have you covered with these Lush sprays which are sooo good that you won't need to work out what their favourite perfume is for the third year in a row. (Also a great brand to support for its morals which is a bonus!!)

7. BLANKETS

Not only perfect for those cosy Winter and lockdown nights but also a great home decor item that is so popular on Instagram! These massive knit blankets can get incredibly pricey online, ranging from 20ish quid for a tiny one to a few hundred for the massive ones, so if you're willing to pay that then go ahead but top tip is to have a look in Home Bargains because they had these guys in all year for £25 and even Primark Home had a few in recently but I'd get ahead of the game for this one before they sell out...

8. JEWELLERY

Now I'm not a massive jewellery fan myself but some girls just go ga-ga for a princess ring. If you're wondering if your girlfriend/sister/daughter is one of them you can identify these people by their less-than-subtle 'just gonna post this here xx' social media posts sharing the Pandora sales. I know most boys get scared to choose jewellery in case the person 'doesn't like it' blah blah but chances are unless they've told you somethng they specifically want or you've been missing some massive hints (ie. ring photos 'accidentally' sent to you) then they'll appreciate literally anything you choose. It's the idea you've went and chosen something specifically for them more than the item itself that matters. If you like it, they'll like it more. The big site is Pandora and many sites like it will have 'Christmas Gift Guide' sections to make it super easy for you. Top tip: you could do a wee price low-high if this is just an add-on gift and although it's horrible to say they will most likely look it up and check how much you spent on it... sorry about that!

9. EYESHADOW PALETTE

Now this is one you will most likely skip over because it feels like delving into a massive jungle with no map and no water and actually no shoes and no clue whatsoever of where to start. That's what boys feel like trying to buy girls make up and I really can't blame you. In fact, if you haven't been told exactly what to buy then who could blame you but if you're really looking to impress and go the extra mile and know they like make up then I'm going to attempt to help you as best I can and try and keep it really simple! So, first of all you'll need to somehow have a look at their collection when they're getting ready or be super stealthy and just double check they don't have the palette you're going to get them.

This is important. Right, so question one is do they watch YouTubers do make up? Because if they do then simply find out who they watch and check if that influencer has a palette or collab with a makeup brand because then your job is done for you!! If they've told you all about the James Charles/Tatti/Jefree Starr drama that encapsulated YouTube in the past then find out who's side they support because all three of those guys have palettes! James Charles x Morphe Artistry palette, Tatti has her own brand, or if they came out supporting Jeffree Starr and Shane Dawson in the whole fiasco then the Jeffree Starr 'Conspiracy palette' is for you. To each their own. These two main palettes I've featured on the left below for you to have a look at.

The top right palette is the new HUDA Beauty Naughty Nude palette and it's the one I'd go for if you're really unsure still! It's a new release so doubtful they have it and there's no crazy colours so can be used by everyone. It would be my top recommendation for make up this Christmas.

The three below that are all YouTuber/Influencer collabs with makeup brands that have been pretty popular this year. From the left: BPerfect x Stacey Marie Carnival III Love Tahiti Palette is one to get if you know they love doing colourful and adventurous looks, middle: Carli Bybel Palette x Anastasia Beverly Hills and far right: BPerfect x Jah Makeup Artist Clientele Palette are both perfect for more simple looks or if they don't go wild with colour and are both from big brands so will be very much appreciated!

God, this really could have been its own post where I explained it a bit better but alas...

10. HAIR CURLERS/WAVER

Maybe they're not as into makeup and prefer hair, or maybe they just love both? Then a Beauty Works hair styler would be a boujee gift for them. So, for this you can do the standard version of the products (gold) or you can do the newer versions in the collab with Molly Mae (pink). It's up to you. These products are pricey but great quality. First is the hair curler (Professional styler) which is great if both you and they love their hair curly, and you can't go wrong with Molly Mae's signature bouncy curls. The second option is a new trend in hair his year, The Waver, which creates the mermaid waves that I've pictured Molly Mae wearing below (and yes boys they’re different than curls) and a great gift if they already have the curler. Top tip: is to get these lads while ASOS have 20% off because you're grabbing yourself a bargain or if you're really on a budget many brands do these products without the hefty price tag.

BONUS: GIFT ADVENT CALENDER

This year there is a major boom in the idea of gift advent calendars, so behind every door is a small gift instead of chocolate. Now what would be super adorable is to buy advent boxes online and fill them yourself with personalised gifts but luckily many brands have brought out their own versions! The best one I have saw so far this year is this PrettyLittleThing beauty calendar but it has been sold out for some time now! ASOS etc. are doing their own versions and there have even been adorable versions in the likes of HomeBargains and B&Ms where you can get candle or even alcohol versions.

Well, I hope this helped even a little bit! If you're really on the ball you'll have noticed I haven't included anything like the staple Primark pyjamas or everything seems catered towards girlfriends or 'for her' but not to worry I've many more versions planned, including 'for him', 'on a budget', and 'how to dress up your present'!

Happy (very early) Christmas!🎁🎄

#giftguide #gifts for men #gifts for her #christmas gift #Christmas #presents

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