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staybabblingbaby · 2 months

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Felix Tinder AU (First Date Part) A1 D1

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You match with what you think is a Stray Kids fan account on Tinder. You get along great with the account's owner, and think it's probably your most successful match to-date. Little do you know who's actually behind the screen...

Word Count: 1,543

Notes: I've avoided posting this one for so long because I've ended up doing something completely different, and it's probably going to end up as a hybrid SMAU for the actual thing. Plus, I didn't know Felix was religious when I wrote this and now it feels kind of disrespectful... Still! That's the purpose of the Archive! To see the writing in all of it's stages! So it's going up. There is no sequential part rn, but there is another attempt I will be posting soon that's VERY different.

Warnings: Talking about Religion and Parasocial relationships at one point.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist | Next Part (Coming soon!)

As you pull to a stop in front of the fanciest hotel you’ve ever seen in your life, you can’t help but wonder how you’d gotten here. Feeling small and dirty in your beat up little car, you pull out your phone. Tinder’s fire-y little logo taunts you as you pull up the chat you need.

Ah, yes. Tinder. The root of all your problems, honestly. Not actually, but it feels like it right this second.

It had all started a few weeks ago. You were going through one of your lonely phases, where you started trying to join hobbyist groups and downloaded every dating app in existence in desperate attempts to at least make a friend. You’d do this just about every year or so, despite the fact that you were never able to make close or long lasting relationships through it, platonic or otherwise.

You’d always end up too busy with work or burn out your social battery way too early into a friendship to be passing up the opportunity to hang out. Not to mention quickly getting overwhelmed with the dating apps and retreating from them post-haste. It was a vicious cycle of loneliness and social exhaustion that you hadn’t figured out how to escape yet.

Tinder happened to be one of the dating apps you’d downloaded. Though you always had ‘NO HOOKUPS’ in all caps at the start of your profile, Tinder had always had great results for you in terms of matches. You’d met several long and short-term friends through the app, though no romantic prospects as of yet. Probably not ever, given Tinder’s nature, but you’d remain hopeful, if doubtful.

It had been during your initial binge-swiping that you’d noticed a funny profile. With just a cute Bbokari picture and a few video game memes in their gallery, the fully filled out profile and simple name, ‘Felix’, had felt intriguing. It had seemed just a bit backwards for what you recall Tinder being all about, regardless of how complicated the profiles got.

‘Travelling the US for a couple months, let’s cross paths!’ read the first line of the profile. You’d weighed the pros and cons of potential long distance and immediately decided that you didn’t care. Your profile was set for friends, anyways, and you‘d long had more internet friends than irl ones.

You’d swiped without anymore thought and lo’ and behold you’d matched immediately. Still riding the surge of social energy that came with deciding you’re desperate enough for dating apps, you’d decided to open with a little joke.

‘So, is this a SKZ fan account on Tinder or something? bc i could b into that lol’

You probably should have expected the immediate reply, seeing as you’d made your account all of 30 minutes prior and he’d swiped on you first, judging by the immediate match. Of course he was online. It’d still caught you off guard though.

‘Something like that lol. You a STAY?’

‘something like that :p’ ‘enough of one 2 have a bunch of their songs on my playlist, but that’s all i’ll say on that’

‘aw c’mon, who’s your bias?’

‘nuh uh, i’ve said enough. k-pop babble requires level 3 friendship’

‘lol alright, i’ll ask how your days been then’ ‘How’s your day going?’

The rest was, as they say, history. The two of you had really hit it off and kept chatting even as you quickly grow overwhelmed and stop your swiping crusades. You tell him about your forays into building a social life and, when that doesn’t pan out, about your latest crochet projects. He, in turn, tells you that he and his friends are traveling all over the US for work over the next couple of months and provides you with silly hotel room anecdotes.

If you never thought more deeply about the coincidence of a guy named Felix having a Bbokari picture on his Tinder profile, well, there were millions of STAYs worldwide. It only made sense that there was at least one Felix bias named Felix out there.

It’s only a few days later that you feel solid enough in your budding friendship to ask a burning question.

‘Not to switch topics (i’m sure my crochet rants r riveting), but can i ask a question?’

‘(They absolutely are) sure!’ ‘I retain my right to silence tho ;P’

‘lol fair ennough’

‘I was just wondering y you don’t have any pics on here?’ ‘I’m p convinved ur not a serial killer by now’

‘I could be, you never know!’ ‘stranger danger’

[pause represented either by text or in fake text tbd]

‘i’m just shy’ ‘I like to talk before anything else’

‘That’s fair’ ‘I’m good at talking lol’ ‘you may have noticed im a bit of a yapper’

‘lol’ ‘yeah, i like it :D’

You had to pretend very hard not to be flustered after that conversation. And also try very hard not to examine why that simple acknowledgement sent your heart fluttering.

You’d quickly switched the subject back to ranting about how black yarn was the devil and despairing about your lack of ability to count. You may be minorly allergic to serious conversations, but Felix hadn’t seemed to mind.

Another week goes by, Felix keeps you updated on his cross-country adventure and you whine about how much you envy his job for letting him travel. He laughs you off and retorts with how exhausting it gets. He seems to be genuinely enjoying the hell out of whatever it is he’s doing though, so you don’t take him too seriously.

As time goes on your conversations get deeper. It’s towards the end of a conversation about religion, belief systems, and community that something shifts between you, ever so slightly.

‘ok but like’ ‘and hear me out here’ ‘religion is a parasocial relationship with a being of dubious existence’

‘lol what?’

‘No but fr!’ ‘ok so, like’ ‘listen it’s like k-pop idols, right?’

‘right?’

‘LISTEN, ok, so you know how, like, idols are basically manufactured to build a parasocial relationship with fans?’ ‘to the point some fans are actually insane about it?’

‘I’m well aware, yes’

‘Well religion is the same thing, i mean, think about it!’ ‘I have not met a devout Christian who wasn’t a lil insane abt their relationship with God’ ‘some are rlly nice abt it, but they literally say “our holy father who art in heaven” and call themselves his children’ ‘THAT is a parasocial relationship!’ ‘It’s the same w idols, right?’ ‘except the relationship is dating or friends or whatever image theyre curating’

‘right’

‘and think about it this way ok’ ‘the reason parasocial relationships are treated with cuation despite our predisposition to them as humans in the digital age is because they get dangerous when people delude themselves into thinking its real’ ‘It’s the same thing with religion except theyre encouraged 2 believe its all real in an attempt to instill them with certain morals’ ‘That’s how you get religous extremests’

‘I hadn’t thought of it that way’

‘and don’t get me wrong! I eat that shit up. I’m on bubble and all sorts. it’s just a facinating parallel between religon and fan spaces and the communities they create.’ ‘some fandoms are more organized than some churches i’ve seen’

‘i think this is the first time you’ve mentioned k-pop since we started talking’ ‘so you’re on bubble, huh? interesting’

‘Noooo my babbling has betrayed me!’ ‘I always knew it would T^T’

‘lol i still wanna know who your bias is’

‘you’ll die wondering’

‘well, then, what are your thoughts about meeting an idol?’

‘what is this, an interview?’

‘maybe’

‘lol ok’

‘i mean, in the vein of all fans, i’d be thrilled? ig?’

‘ig?’

‘Well, i’m kinda scared lol’ ‘idols intimidate me’

‘aw why are you scared?! i’m sure they’re lovely’

‘lol they’d have to b xD’ ‘idk man they just scare me! If i saw an idol in the wild i’d flee, no hesitation’ ‘poof, gone’

‘lolol imagine that poor idol saw you book it the other direction’

‘they’d survive lol’ ‘but nah, yeah, i’d be thrilled to meet an idol but i’d pass out i think’

‘well don’t do that’

‘listen, strangers scare me enough, attractive strangers that i admire very much? terrifying’

‘fair enough ig’ ‘so you wouldn’t talk to an idol if given the chance?’

‘y r u so interested? this is a weird line of question’

‘i’m just curious!’

‘i mean, depends on the context? a fan sign or something i’d probably b fine, if a nervous wreck, but like’ ‘in public?’ ‘I’d prolly keep my distance’ ‘like’ ‘Idols deserve their privacy too, yknow?’ ‘nerves aside, leaving them tf alone would just be the polite thing’ ‘idols are people too, yknow? I try not to forget that, regardless of how godly their music’

‘I agree’ ‘I think they’d appriciate that’

‘right? and, like, if i ever met an idol i’d have to confront the reality that they themselves are real, yknow?’ ‘it wouldn’t make me less of a fan but i’d def feel weird about several fan activities’

‘lol like what?’

‘wouldn’t you like to know weather boy?’

After that conversation, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but something had shifted in your friendship.

#skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #w.i.p fic #skz fanfic #skz fic #w.i.p #baby writes #Felix Tinder AU

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streetkid-named-desire · 2 days

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uwu @luvwich tagged me for a writer interview (?!) so let's get to the navel gazing

i tag @wanderingaldecaldo and @medtech-mara

When did you start writing?

Since I was like 8. I'm not joking. When we were selling the condo after I'd moved out my mom and I pruned the "kid art" boxes together because she kept nearly everything creative we ever did. There was this assignment where we had to write our own version of the tortoise and the hare in second or third grade and it was honestly pretty witty. Like, it was still very much in the voice I still write with today.

Then in middle school I wrote vampire rescue stories (girl is mid-assault or nearly assaulted and near death, vampire rescues and has to tun her to save her life, she wakes up in a castle) but it was way more gory. I never finished one. As I got older I dabbled here and there but again, rarely finished something. I've written a variety of short fiction and you can read some of my stuff here.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Nooo. Even with movies I generally stick to horror and sci-fi which is also what I enjoy writing. Although, I do enjoy like literary fiction? Satire? Idk I really love Chuck Palahniuk and Doug Coupland.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't think I've ever been compared to anyone, no. I know my style is influenced by Weird Al, John Scieszka, Chuck Palahniuk, Stephen King, Neal Stephenson, William Gibson. Probably some others but I can't think of their names.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

GOD either my phone in bed or at my desk. My desk is messy and there is a cat bed on it so the cats can be close to me without being fucking pests and walking over my keyboard. I bought a new desk in like June of last year when I first moved into me new place and I...still have not put it together.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Watching horror movies. Also just starting to write. I have to remember to trust and just write, just start writing.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I will say I was SO shooketh when I picked up A Streetkid Named Desire again, especially for how much of myself, my past, my experiences, my history I put into Bea and VG. Otherwise, recurring themes are cynical optimism, push and pull love, autism, kinda antiheroes, body horror, and complex characters. Not to toot my own horn on that last one.

What is your reason for writing?

I have to. I have to get this story out of my head. I play in my imagination. It's actually the only way I can really daydream, that's why I call it my imagination playground.

Mostly because it's part of who I am. I write. I'm a writer. That's all there is to it.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I have...so few comments. The best ones are about my characters and emotions. But any comment is motivating. Mostly because I'm just putting all this out there and it would be so nice for other people to read and share in this experience because it's not just a story it's kind of baring my soul.

I want someone to see me through my writing.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Eeeehhhhhsgghasgbdf I don't wanna think about being perceived. I think just a good author.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Snappy dialogue and character dynamics.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I feel very neutral until I re-read it on AO3 and go "damn, I really cooked." I kinda get excited when I am re-reading for the first time and it's actually good.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Completely and purely for myself. My story and characters are very close to me and I feel just compelled to tell it. I mostly let the characters decide as I write. I write for myself because it's fun and I like seeing the story in my imagination in my head. I want other people to enjoy my writing too but unfortunately I am not likely going to cater to readers lol

This is why I likely will only ever be self-published if I do publish an original story because I could not fathom or tolerate an editor wanting to cut certain things or make it more marketable or something. My writing is all a part of me and part of my soul and not staying true to that, not writing what I want or how I want is crushing.

#emotional support imagination playground

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freddie-77-ao3 · 6 months

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Connor Stoll (aka my son)

AWW YEA CONNOR STOLL MY BABY

Off to a great start here.

So, Connor Stoll, cabin 11 (claimed), sole counselor as of TOA.

Now, to start us off, identity headcanons:

Connor's non-binary (they/them), AFAB.

so when Connor was four, they got to camp (unrelated but Travis was 6), and although they had. no clue about their identity-- still was cis girl presenting, their hair was short because it's travis and connor. they're always doing some crazy shit. so, just as they got to camp, someone misheard connor or something, and just assumed their name was connor. No, their deadname isn't anything close to connor.

but as travis was about to correct them, connor was like, no, no, trav, i like this. i'm a boy?

and neither of them know what transgenderism is at this point but they just go, okay guess connor's a boy, whatever

anyway, they sorta start questioning that just battle of the labyrinth

and then after the battle they came out to everyone

also, connor is asexual. very sex-repulsed when they were younger, is now willing to make a dirty joke or two when it suits them. romantic orientation wise? doesn't know, doesn't care. if you ask them, they'll start thinking, and then get distracted by something completely different.

Random facts:

Connor isn't dyslexic. They joke it's because Travis got double the dyslexia. In actuality, Hermes kids are the least likely to be dyslexic because Hermes being a travel god means that his kids tend to be pretty good at picking up languages, including written english.

In the same vein, Connor knows A LOT of languages. Obviously english and ancient greek, Connor also learnt Latin (before HoO), French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, Swahili, and was brought up knowing basic gaelic terms.

Because yeah, Connor's scottish. more getting into their pre-camp story in a sec.

Connor's main friend group is Drew Tanaka and Malcolm Pace, because they're all around the same age. Connor and Drew knew each other for years before Malcolm, getting to know each other at four/five from camp, and Malcolm came when they were ten.

(Connor also has feelings for Malcolm)

Connor's also pretty close with Will, Cecil, and Lou Ellen because again, they're all year-rounders, and came to camp pre-Luke's betrayal.

Connor's birthday is April fool's day.

Connor has one of the only complete records of the titan war. they wrote it all down while it was happening-- complete notes of counselor's meetings, missions, attack plans-- lists of traitors and known allies, and, of course, lists of the dead.

Connor loves to read-- fantasy, specifically, and adventure.

They're always cold. It's not medical or anything, they're just. always cold.

Also, even though pretty much everything in Hermes cabin is communal, connor somehow manages to own even less than everyone else? they love stealing clothes from family and friends (yeah,,, clarisse isn't as fond of that one)

Connor (and Malcolm) have found complete tunnel systems and rooms around camp halfblood. Closer to the surface than the labyrinth, you can frequently find Connor there.

Pre-Camp

okay, so as i've mentioned before, Connor's scottish.

well, they lived in scotland from birth to age four (at which a point they moved to camp). I think they lived around Edinburgh, because mama stoll enjoys robbing the posh idiots in her free time, but originally the family is from the highlands.

so, the Stoll mother,,, Robin Stoll. (Robbing, because,,, yeah) I just think they're a punny family. It isn't intentional, it just is. (yeah i know i'm not as funny as I think i am).

Anyway, Robin, contrary to what you might think, had never stolen anything when she first attracted hermes. she was just a killer postwoman. she was kind to the kids on her route, who all loved her, and always had smiles and treats for the dogs, etc. Hermes was porch pirating something when they first met, and she chased him off.

of course, after attracting hermes the first time she started porch pirating, and leaving travis at home with her mother in the hopes of another glimpse of him. this eventually attracted hermes again, resulting in connor.

following that, porch pirating wasn't working to attract hermes anymore so she decided to leave the kids at home, and start robbing banks. this never did attract hermes, but the two children at home did-- travis and connor started playing with a computer one day, attracting monsters to their doorstep. although both lived, robin's mother died in the attack, and robin, forced to return home, resented the kids for her mother's death.

for a final heist, she planned to steal the queen of england's crown jewel. hermes appeared beforehand, begging her to stop--

she asked if he'd stay if she didn't.

he said no.

she never asked if he'd stay if she did.

that answer would have been no too.

so robin went off, and hermes took the kids to camp.

robin wouldn't be seen again, by hermes or her children.

#pjo hoo toa #pjo #pjo series #riordanverse #pjo fandom #connor stoll #ask game

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oppipopi · 2 years

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Tragedy in AvA 5

I've been in fd sticks for almost 2 years now and how tired I am of seeing a Lord in the role of a villainous villain from time to time for the reason "Well, his name is the Dark Lord, so he's evil and does evil things" You don't think that I'm trying to justify him somehow, no. He's an asshole and it's true. But I just want to say that perhaps the personality of Lord is much deeper and more complex than it may seem at first glance.

In short, post-reflections on the personality of Lord, his conflict with Chosen, as well as their relationship. I don't pretend to any canonicity, it's just my thoughts. Let's go!

To begin with, the stick names have no effect on the personality and character of the characters. This is proved by Vic, who in the first minute of his life swore at the creator and almost "defeated" Alan, as well as Chose, who from the first second of his appearance decided to choose the path of ultra violence and blow everything to hell. I think no one will argue that these are slightly different associations that come to mind when we hear the words Victim and Chosen One. Thus, we conclude that the name of the stick affects only the abilities of the bearer, but not the personality.

let's move on

I often see such an interpretation of the personality of Lord, where he is arrogant, aggressive and does not disdain to assert himself by bullying those who are weaker. (I'll make a reservation right away. This interpretation takes place and I do not forbid anyone to think so, but now about something else)

I don't think Lord has the desire to assert himself at the expense of the weak. He does not have the same bitterness towards the world and unremitted rage that Chosen has (four years in prison is no joke to you, and he was kind of mad from the very beginning, so yes …), which he releases at large. I think Lord has more fear of being rejected and abandoned again (as he was abandoned by Alan during the battle with Chosen), so he arranges the whole debauch more out of the thought that "This is what Chosen likes. This is what unites us"

Have you ever thought about what a really big influence Chosen could have on the Lord, and that most likely Lord in AvA5 is what he is to a greater extent because he got involved with the "bad company" in the person of Chosen?

Just to remind you that they were friends for seven years. SEVEN YEARS, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!!!?? And for at least five years, Chosen was satisfied with his way of thinking in the spirit of "arrange destruction, order sucks" and "there are bastards everywhere, cattle all around, give them heat, arrange a pogrom!"

I'm leading all this to the fact that it was Chosen who dragged Lord into all this. He showed him this world and how to behave in it. He held out his hand to him and offered to destroy Alan's computer to smithereens!

It's hard not to be grateful when someone who is capable of killing you, and was going to do it, suddenly decides to save your life and even offer cooperation. I don't know if Lord agreed out of fear, or for some other reason, but I think at this moment Lord mentally exalted Chosen over himself, put him in priority I mean, Lord is the only character who has been assigned a mission (and not just any, but the destruction of Chosen! I think this also played a role in his attitude to destruction and murder). What is it like to be born and immediately receive an order from above? Do not have your own opinion about the situation, but still faithfully execute orders… Despite the fact that eventually Lord stopped following the decree, I think he is still subconsciously waiting for orders. Only now from Chosen. And when he gets it (it doesn't matter if Chose says it directly, or if Lord himself thinks out what he might like), he does it. I am leading to the fact that Lord has completely lost his moral compass. He has no understanding of what is good and what is bad. On top of everything else, He is also follower! He has his own opinion, but no one has taught him how to use it. He only chooses a leader for himself and takes his words and views at face value. Of course, over time, from an authoritative figure, Chosen becomes a best friend in the eyes of Lord. But he still puts him above himself. He puts Chosen's ideals above his own. (although, I don't think that Lord had any ideals before meeting Chosen)

But Chosen's ideals have changed over time, and he forgot to tell Lord about it… Or is it a little different here?

As I wrote above, Chosen himself changed the personality of Lord, and therefore, we can say that Lord in AvA5 is in many ways similar in character, and even in habits to Chosen from AvA3.

By the way, have you ever noticed how much the Chosen from AvA2-3 and the Chosen from AvA5 actually differ in vibe? In AvA5, Chosen seems to me much more restrained, collected, quiet and thoughtful. And also immensely tired. We know that Chosen has rethought his views, but what prompted him to do it? Previously, he did not care about the screams of others, their fear. What has changed? I think that through destruction, intimidation, violence, Chosen released his endless anger and hatred, which seems to have been with him from the very beginning (maybe all the empty-heads created by Alan have their own conditional collective mind? And that's why Chosen got Vic's experience on some mental level? He doesn't know the situation, he doesn't have Vic's memories. Only a feeling of fear, rage and a desire to escape.) But at some point it just stopped producing results. One day he just froze in the middle of the burning streets and realized that he felt absolutely nothing but emptiness devouring from within. Then Chosen probably wondered for the first time, is this really what he wants? He wanted to be free, but is it freedom? Then Chosen begins to change and withdraw more and more into himself, trying to figure out what he wants. And he understands. He understands that he no longer wants to live like this, that he no longer wants to have anything to do with the person he was before, understands that he wants to be better. He wants to contemplate and create, not destroy. That this is the only way to become truly free.

Chosen becomes disgusted with the person he was in 2011. He hates him. He's disappointed in him.

And he sees this man in Lord too clearly.

The same habits. The same facial expressions. The same mindset.

Lord reminded him too much of the one he hated so much, the one he wanted to forget forever. Renounce. Expunge from life.

Maybe that's why he put off this conversation for so long? Maybe that's why he got so angry when Lord (usually docile) did not listen to him and went against him?

Speaking of Lord. Let's look at the situation from his side. You and your best and only friend have been keeping the entire Internet at bay for several years in a row, living soul to soul and just having fun. But at some point your friend suddenly changes. He no longer laughs with you, does not rejoice at the new trashed site. Does not look in your direction. Your friend no longer likes everything that once united you. All that he himself showed you. It's unclear. It's scary. And you're trying to fix it. To take revenge on the common offender. Increase the scale of destruction (maybe then Chosen will have fun again? Maybe he just needs more entertainment??) But he tell you no again. Without explaining anything. You're angry. Get angry because you don't understand. Get angry because you're scared. And you keep doing the only thing you know best, in the hope that it will fix something…

The main tragedy in AvA 5, as for me, is that Chosen created an enemy for himself. He had won Lord over to his side. Chosen himself raised the Dark Lord as we see him in AvA5 And then he changed. But he couldn't change Lord again, because he couldn't cope with his own hatred.

It's really very sad.

And, by the way, I'm not trying to put all the blame on Chosen. He has come a difficult way. He made himself and it's really cool. In AvA 5, he is in fact only at the beginning of his path of becoming the person he would like to be. So it's not surprising that things didn't go so smoothly. I believe that eventually Chosen will be able to accept his mistakes and take responsibility for them. Then his life will really begin to change for the better

#alan becker #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #ava dark lord #ava the chosen one #чорды #вот это я полотно накатала мда тэш #опять сто часов думать об этих двоих ну емае #ава5 делает моему мозгу такой приятный брбрбр вы бы знали

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the-badger-mole · 2 years

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Hallmarks of the Season: Part 4

The next morning, Katara was up early again, to her chagrin. Fortunately it wasn't a school day, so she was the only one awake in her family of early risers. She checked her phone for any missed messages, then she decided to work off some of her excess energy with a morning run.

Katara headed for the downtown area, intending to reward herself at the end of her run with a cup of coffee and a pastry. The two miles between her family's home and the middle of town was sparsely populated this early in the morning, and a light snow was beginning to fall, muting even the sound of her feet on the pavement. It was like running in a dream. The coffee shop had just opened, and Katara had her pick of fresh baked goods. She chose a crispy guo kui for herself, and some fruit tarts for the rest of her family, and a tall cup of spiced dark tea to sip on her leisurely walk home. Once her breakfast was done, she pulled out her phone to check for messages. There was one from Sokka informing her that Sesi had a dentist appointment that day, and another from her father asking if she felt like going out to dinner that night. Katara sighed, and put her phone away.

She spotted Aang first, this time. He was wrestling with the key to one of the shop fronts, and he nearly dropped the ring when he heard Katara call his name.

"Hey, Katara!" he greeted her brightly. "Wow, I'm amazed! You're never up this early."

"Jetlag," Katara shrugged and rolled her eyes. "By the time I'm over it, it'll be time to go home."

"It's so weird hearing you call someplace home and not mean here," Aang chuckled and shook his head. Finally, he was able to get the key to turn and he held the door open for Katara to come in.

"So this is the shop?" Katara looked around and tried not to react. The shop was dingy, even before Aang turned on the lights. The slight odor of wet animal permeated the air, and it was smaller than Katara would have guessed.

"Pretty great, isn't it?" Aang held his arms out and grinned. "It needs a new coat of paint, but this is just where I start. Once it takes off, I'll be able to get a bigger place, too. Eventually, I want to take over the old Highwater barn. To give the animals space to run and stuff. Maybe even turn it into short term pet boarding." Katara cast a look around the shop again, and this time her smile wasn't forced.

"I'm really happy for you," she told him. "It sounds like a wonderful plan." Aang's cheeks flushed slightly and preened.

"You don't think I'm a failure for not making it through vet school?" he asked. "I'll probably never get rich off of this."

"You probably wouldn't have gotten rich off being a vet," Katara joked. "But that doesn't matter. You've found something that makes you happy, and I think that's worth all the wealth in the world."

"Really?" Aang's smile widened. "That's not what I was expecting to hear from you."

"Oh?" Katara's face turned inward in confusion. "Why not?"

"Well..." It seemed like Aang was trying to find a delicate way to say what was on his mind. He rocked on his feet nervously and gestured at Katara. "You know...I've...we've all kept up with you, you know. The small town girl who made good in the big city. You're marrying some rich guy-"

"None of that means I'd put money ahead of my happiness," Katara was unaccountably annoyed. "And how do you know how much money Zuko has?"

"I don't mean to be rude," Aang waved his hands, backpedaling quickly. "I was curious when I found out you were engaged. I didn't get a chance to ask you about it yesterday, so I peeked at your social media. Zuko Kaji is...well...I don't think his wealth is any secret." Katara rolled her eyes.

"Yes, fine, he does have money," she admitted. "But that's not why I love him."

"I didn't mean to imply that," Aang swore. "I just...when I saw you at the store yesterday...It's just, you seem so different now. I haven't seen you in almost ten years, and now it's like you're a completely different person." Katara tapped her finger against her cup thoughtfully.

"I am a different person," she said. "Aang, you can't base what you know about me on who I was when I was in high school. I'm not that person anymore. None of us is exactly who we were ten years ago. That's what happens. I'm living a different life than I saw for myself back then, but it's a good life, and I'm happy."

"Good!" Aang turned and started fiddling with the cash register. "I'm glad to hear it. It's nice to know that fabulous wealth doesn't hinder happiness." Katara eyed him for a moment, but then laughed weakly.

"It's not as bad as the movies make it look," she said. She glanced at her screen for any text notifications.

"Hey, Katara?" Aang cleared his throat nervously.

"Yeah?" she looked up expectantly.

"You're in marketing, right?"

"I am," Katara answered slowly. Aang lifted his arms and gestured around the shop.

"Obviously, I'm going to need some more customers if I'm ever going to make it to the Highwater barn, but I'm kind of lost on the whole marketing thing. Do you think I could pick your brain? I mean if you have time."

"Sure, Aang. I actually have some time today. I can swing back around this afternoon and we can talk strategy. Yeah?"

"That'd be awesome!"

Katara gathered her bag of treats and her now ice cold tea and headed for home. Hakoda was on his way out to work, but he gratefully accepted a custard tart on his way out the door. Sesi couldn't have any sweets before her appointment, and Sokka refrained out of solidarity, but he made Katara promise not to eat his while he was gone.

"As if I was the one with that problem," Katara scoffed. "Bottomless pit." Kanna was visiting a sick friend, so that left Katara on her own for the better part of the day. After she showered, changed and checked her messages, Katara headed back out for Aang's shop.

It was busier than it had been that morning, but only just. Aang was at the large tub sink rigorously scrubbing down something large, fluffy and white with a towel. He glanced over his shoulder to see who'd come in, and his face lit up when he saw her. Katara felt heat rise to her cheeks unexpectedly.

"Who is that?" she asked, motioning towards Aang's client.

"Indrani," he told her. "This is Mr. Saki's best friend. Or so he says. She's a friendly ol' furball." Indrani turned and licked Aang's cheek.

"She certainly likes you," Katara giggled. "She's pretty. Even without her blowout."

"Second prettiest she in the place," Aang shot Katara rakish grin, and there was another rush of heat to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and took a seat in the waiting area.

"I'll be over here when you're ready." Aang and Indrani moved over to the drying station, and the sound of the pet dryer made conversation impossible, so Katara took her phone out to occupy herself. She'd muted her work emails, and now had to resist the urge to open them to see how things were going at the company. There was nothing she could do to make the money from the investors clear faster, anyway. She opened her personal email instead. There was nothing in her inbox but some coupons for the makeup brand she wore and an announcement for a sale at a store she hadn't shopped at in years. She navigated back to the home screen and hovered over the text message icon for a moment before opening her video app and putting in her earbuds.

She was halfway through an hourlong video on the history of Ba Sing Se's surprisingly shady cabbage trade when she was brought back to the present by a tap on her shoulder. Aang stood over her, waving and grinning as if he'd been calling her for a while. Katara glanced around and realized that Indrani was no longer there. She had been taken to a kennel in the back of the shop, Katara would learn later.

"I didn't realize I had it up so high," Katara said as she put away her headphones and phone.

"No worries." Aang switched the sign on the door to closed and motioned for Katara to follow him. "Step into my office."

Aang's office was a supply closet with a desk. there was no window and it was cramped, but Katara was impressed that the shop had anything resembling office space at all. There was a pile of boxes in front of the desk, so both chairs had to be put on the same side of the desk. Aang let Katara take her seat first and settled in beside her.

"So..." Katara took a notepad and pen from her purse, and leaned against the wall behind her. "Why don't we start with the basics? How often are you posting on social media?"

"Um..." Aang blinked in surprise. "Social media? I haven't really been on any of my accounts in a while."

"Okay, and what about you socials for the shop?" Katara pressed.

"I...don't have any?" Aang replied sheepishly. Katara wrote that down on her notepad.

"Social media presence is really important," she explained. "Especially with a business like yours. It's a really effective way to keep in touch with existing customers and connect with new ones. And you have an immediate hook. Everyone loves pictures of cute pets."

"That's so much work, though!" Aang complained. "The whole reason I stopped using social media was because of all the time it took up."

"You don't have to spend a ton of time," Katara told him. "Most sites will let you preschedule your post. I'd recommend setting them up a week in advance. It shouldn't take you more than a couple of hours a week. It's also a really good way to announce sales and specials and stuff like that."

"If you think it'll work..." Aang seemed uncertain.

"Trust me!" Katara said. "You'll want to ask all your customers to like and follow the page. And every so often- like say, once a month to start- you'll want to announce a special. Just to keep them engaged." At the word engaged, Aang's eyes drifted to the ring on Katara's finger. It glittered beautifully, even in the florescent light of the office. Katara was too busy scribbling down monthly special ideas to notice Aang's scrutiny.

"Are you running any holiday specials?" Katara asked, startling Aang from his thoughts.

"Er...no," he said. Katara's lips drew down in a quick frown.

"Tell you what," she said. "I'm going to work on a few things for you. A couple of flyers, a loyalty card, and a couple of post for your social media. And I'll make a plan for your next quarter. What do you think?" Aang scrambled for a response.

"Wow, that sounds like so much," he said. "Do you think you'll be able to do that all before you go?"

"It won't take me more than a few hours," Katara said. "Small business campaigns are really easy, but if you stick with the plan, it's going to bring in so much business you'll have to move to the barn!"

"That would be amazing, Katara! I don't know what I'd do without you. I've been open for three months and I still only have three regular clients. It's been...scary."

"The first year of business is always the scariest," Katara reached out and squeezed Aang's hand. "You're going to be fine." Aang looked at her hand on his. The ring, with it's giant stone glittered and twinkled at him. He placed his other hand on top of Katara's and squeezed it.

"How did you get so good at this?" he asked.

"It's what I do," Katara said. "I'm the head of the marketing team at Zuko's company." That caught Aang's attention.

"You're marrying your boss?" He made a poorly concealed face at that. Katara's cheeks went pink and she shrugged.

"He's not actually my boss," she said. "I mean, I don't answer to him directly. We didn't even realize we work at the same place until our second date." Katara chuckled at the memory.

"How did that happen?" Aang asked. "You didn't know the CEO of your company? Isn't it like...number one on the list of interview advice to look up the CEO of the company?"

"Nah," Katara shrugged. "You want to know enough about the company to be able to talk about why you want to work there, but no one actually cares if you know who works in the C-Suite. I met Zuko at a coffee shop about month into working at the company, and he asked me out. We promised not to talk about work on our first date, and we weren't supposed to talk about it on our second date either, but then we both got an alert from work about an ad campaign falling through because the company we were partnering with didn't like the layout. We ended up both having to go in at the same time. It was like finding out each other's alter-egos.

Katara laughed as she recounted the look of shock on Zuko's face. He was worried that HR would have a problem with them dating, but since Katara was both high enough in the company and far enough removed, it hadn't been an issue, though they still kept it secret for another year.

"You really like him, huh?" Aang asked.

"Very much," Katara sighed. She idly flipped her phone over and checked for notifications.

"Are you expecting a call or something?" Aang asked.

"Sort of," Katara turned her phone back over and pushed it slightly away. "I sent Zuko a message yesterday, and I haven't heard back."

"Oh?" Aang leaned forward, his brow drawing down in concern. "Is that unusual for him?"

"Kind of," Katara said. "He's in the middle of work crisis. He can be very single minded when he's working. He usually takes the time to text, though." Aang regarded her quietly for a moment. He put his hand over hers again, tracing lazy circles around her ring.

"You know...they say that engagement is the time when couples are supposed to be attached at the hip," he observed.

"Yeah, this whole investor fiasco is really cutting into our gross engaged couple time," Katara snorted. "But I knew going in that running this company was going to take a lot of his time. It's a fairly new company. You know how much work it takes to get a business off the ground."

"That's true," Aang conceded. "Still, if I had someone like you, I'd drop everything for a text." Katara blushed and slowly withdrew her hand from Aang's.

"It's not that simple," she said. "Especially with what's happening now. He has a lot more people than just me to take care of. I'm proud of him and how much he cares. I just...I miss him."

"Good thing he's coming soon, then," Aang sat back in his chair, arms folded and eyes directed away from Katara. She paused before she answered.

"Yeah..." she said, tucking her phone into her purse. "Good thing." Then she stood up and gathered her things. "I should get going. If I get home fast enough, I can knock out one of these flyers before dinner."

Aang stood up and walked Katara back to the front of the shop. He caught her hand before she left the shop. Katara looked from their hands back up to Aang's soulful grey eyes.

"You deserve to be cared for the most," he said. Katara nodded dumbly and hurried out of the shop into the chilly winter air. It was sharp after being in the heated office for so long. Katara felt like she was waking suddenly.

As Katara turned down the block to her father's house, her phone buzzed. Zuko's name flashed across the screen, alerting her that he had finally, finally answered her text.

I'm sorry I took so long to get back to you.

I know I said I'd be there in four days, but something's come up with the investors. I have to change my plans. I'll talk to you soon.

Love you and miss you

Katara took several deep breaths. She wouldn't cry. She had acknowledged this possibility privately before. It wasn't Zuko's fault. And despite what impression this was leaving on her family and friends, she knew that Zuko did truly care and would be there if he could. She just wished that it was in his power to put her ahead of his company more often.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

#atla #holiday feel goods #zutara #hallmarks of the season

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call-me-copycat · 2 years

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Snowflake ❄️ for the ask game! If you have ocs, would love to hear about them!! Your writing is incredible, so I have no doubt they'd be good.

*This is the game they're referring to, for those that don't know)

❄️ Snowflake: talk about a unique trait or aspect of your favorite OC. Have they been living rent-free in your brain? It’s time to talk about them!

Ah, thank you so much! It's so nice to hear that, it really makes my day! (⸝⸝ ´艸`⸝⸝)

I've never really had anyone ask about my OC's before, so this'll be really fun!

Although, I don't have many that I created from scratch (but if you count the characters that I had to make for stories and fics then that number certainly goes up).

I'll do my best in explaining it, but I just wanted to give a heads up that I've been struggling with worldbuilding for some of them, so some things might sound a little off (๑////๑)

Also, I started making characters when I was about 6, but none of them stayed except for 1. And so I've been only tweaking and developing that one until recently, where I've made a whole batch of new characters just at the end of last year, so I apologize if some are a bit empty, or if I come back and completely change out something about a character.

Finally, if anyone has any ideas or recommendations, or if anyone wants me to include a character of theirs as a side character in any of my stories (things like cashier, side villains, background people of public places, I always love making the people in the back), then feel free to let me know!

人生の擬人化 (じんせいのぎじんーが) Jinsei no gijin ga (Short; Jinsei, Jinjin)

Ah, my very first character! I made her when I was 6, and she's the only one that lasted throughout the years. Her original name was "Audrey", only because as a child I didn't have any references to go by other than the names of the people around me (and unfortunately there were never any other Japanese kids where I lived).

She's been through a massive amount of changes throughout the years. She originally started off very plain since I wasn't very creative, with blond hair and blue eyes, and I never knew what to have her wear, so I'd always have her wear white "spy" gear, despite her not being a spy.

She changed as I grew up, and she played many different roles, being a hero, a cook, a random magical being, a secret hero, all the way to where she is now.

When I was around 12 or 13, I completely took everything I knew and started from scratch. I made her the current version I know today: short white hair, light blue eyes, and lots of training and well developed muscles. I'm not good at imagining the clothing. Her personality, oddly enough, has stayed pretty much the same throughout the years.

She's one of the characters that I'm struggling to worldbuild for, so please take the following explanation with a grain of salt.

She's a being of white energy, since she controls all life and how life itself works. She (like everyone else in this specific world) has a core of pure energy that was formed from raw magic energy, either naturally occurring or through the use of powerful spells or rituals. I'm still developing the world (might have to start from scratch again), but this is pretty much the only thing that won't change. If anyone has suggestions, I'd really love to hear them!

She's very egocentric, like... Imagine a character where Eda from Owl House, and Mitsuki and Mirko from My Hero Academia were all combined. Do you sort of understand? I'm not good at explaining personalities, I'm used to writing them, so I can write a small story with her if you'd like. Sorry about that.

But basically, she's very brash and tough, but she can be pretty levelheaded when needed. She has a good heart, but sometimes her loud personality gets in the way of things (a joke I have is she drives Moe crazy since they're basically tied together).

As much as I love all my characters, I have to admit she's my upmost favorite! (Well, equal to Moe, that is, but I'll mention him next).

Here's a doodle I tried making of her (it's still in the works, it's just a bit off and this drawing is also pretty old, so I need to update it)

死神 (しにがみ) Shinigami (Moe)

This is Death! I love him so much, he was the second character I ever made and kept (only 6 years after Jinsei). He's technically called Shinigami, but since I started calling him Moe before that, I decided to call him Moe instead (like a nickname? I can't describe it).

He's the polar opposite of Jinsei (also part of the world in struggling to world build). He has a core of pure dark energy, and even though Dark Magic is starting to be used with safety precautions in this world, it's an anomaly that a core can be made out of it without turning into one of the "Corrupted" (basically, if a being with a core of magic energy messes up something with dark magic, or gets infected by another Corrupted, their core gets taken over like a virus and they turn into mindless bloodthirsty beasts of pure darkness). That's why he has to stay undercover, because there are hunters and people called the "Magic Enforcers" who hate Dark Magic and want to put an end to it.

He's much taller than Jinsei, but he's much more lean than she is. He has a quiet, thoughtful personality, and is normally very stoic. He never shows much emotion, and does what he's told, no matter how cruel (though he's been shown to have a slight soft spot).

He does have his moments where Jinsei annoys him too much, and she sometimes is able to get a snark or sarcastic remark pointed at her (and they're always unintentionally very funny).

I tried drawing him, but I messed it up, so I hope this explanation will do. He has black hair (I'm struggling between having it be a pony tail like the ancient Chinese style, or just have it short), and normally wears a cloak around his body like Tokoyami. He's very observant even when he doesn't seem like it, so he's matched with Jinsei when it comes to strength.

He's tied to her in power and in name (like Yin and Yang), but he does like to be by himself when he can.

He originally was supposed to be a background character, but like a week after making him I decided to make him paired with Jinsei when I thought of the black and white theme.

If anyone has any suggestions or questions for him (no matter how odd, simple, complex or whatever), please don't hesitate!

Either way, I love my Moe and Jinsei!

賭博師. 親. (裏) - とばくししたしむ (うら) - Dobakushi Shitashimu (Ura)

Ura's character is rather new to be made, but she was one of the 3 big ones (other two are Jinsei and Moe). That just means she was made and lasted through the other characters that didn't.

Her power is the ability to manipulate cards and probability, so she's like a gambling-themed character. She's good friends with Jinsei, and she has a similar personality, although she isn't as loud or brash. She's just quite confident and brave with taking risks, but when she needs or wants to, she can be rather sly and sneaky like a cat.

Ura hasn't really had much time for development, but I do look forward to coming up with the ideas (suggestions welcome).

*Fun fact: I got her character idea from a quick dream*

Here's a drawing I made of her awhile back (it's old, so it's not the best).

Any others past this point have been recently made and don't have a world of their own, meaning they were specifically made for my stories and fics.

Naomi Akematsu

- 6 years old

- Elementary Student, but likes to help out at her family's restaurant (made friends with the landscape gardener)

- Quirk: Emotion Crafting: Character can craft something and if they're in a large emotional state then they can transfer said emotion to items or food

- Example: Say she's feeling extremely euphoric and she makes cookies. Anyone who eats those cookies will feel just as she did when she made them.

- She has strawberry curly, pink hair like this:

- She's very upbeat and joyful, and she's always making friends. The only issue is she can be quite dense at times, and she's also known for being pretty gullible as well. She's naturally good hearted though.

- Somehow became best friends with Ume

Ume Nekoya

- Also 6 years old and in elementary school

- She's always very quiet and observant, and normally she doesn't really care for people (so that's how it's an anomaly that Naomi somehow became best friends with her)

- Ume's father is the head villain of a secret society that is working to weed out privileged or fake heroes. The funny thing is even though he's known for being dangerous and deadly when he's working, he's actually a very kind father when it comes to caring for her (her mother died at the hands of an ignorant hero)

- Quirk:

Weakness Detection: The ability to sense the weak point of people and/or objects. It can be a physical weakness, or emotional one, or a spiritual one, or a mental one, literally any weakness to a person or object.

- She always wears things like little dresses and cloaks, but has a mysterious habit as to why she never wants to wear white.

- Here's a doodle of her hair:

Sora Tsuneyoshi

- Nonbinary, around their early twenties

- They were really close to their father when he passed away due to a sudden aneurism

- This caused their hypochondriac tendencies, and it sort of strengths due to the fact that they're also a nurse/Medic

- Because of their paranoia, they carry around a large bag filled with all sorts of medical supplies and first aid equipment

- Quirk:

Disease manipulation: The ability to control disease inside or outside of a person/animal. Can control movement, spread, division, and others. The only downside is they need to have a complete full knowledge of the disease and how far it is in someone in order to be able to control it.

- Here's a drawing that will give you the appearance:

Megumi Shizuka

- A cashier, around 18-20 ish

- Has a very laid back personality, a little lazy at times (aren't we all)

- Has black hair that's always thrown into a messy bun

- She always works the night shifts, every single time. When it's daytime she's normally sleeping

- Always wears pajamas or comfortable clothing (I'm beginning to think she doesn't have any normal clothes)

- Is very sarcastic, loves using dark humor every now and then (very similar to Shinso)

- Quirk:

Decay: The ability to control the speed of rot. She just normally uses it to slow down the expiration of foods that are about to go bad. It's powerful, but she never wanted to be a hero or anything like that. Kind of thinks like an anti-hero, when in reality she just finds the constant battles annoying.

- I might draw her in the future

- My trans friend online asked me to make her trans, so I obliged. Megumi is a trans woman.

Shinju Yofu

- Was always the smart kid in class when he was younger

- Despite his Quirk, he's nearly half blind, and almost always refuses to wear his glasses out of stubbornness (he doesn't like the way they look or feel). I think he's just mad because the vision test was the only test he's failed in his life

- Due to his stubbornness and refusal to wear the glasses, he's always squinting and not recognizing anything or anyone. Plus he bumps into stuff as well

- He and his mother moved to Japan from China when he was young, and so he grew up without any friends since no one understood Chinese

- He is training to be a night watch guard, since he was always curious about urban legends of different villains and villain organizations.

- Quirk:

Remote Viewing: The power to track people or objects from afar. It would've been stronger if he had perfect vision, but he can only recognize people by their basic shape and colors, he just can't go into detail with it

- I also don't have any drawings of him, so please bear with me on my explanations. Since he's from China, he of course would look very Chinese. In fact, he looks so plain must people glaze right over him, giving him an advantage when he wants to blend into the crowd.

- He's one of the newest ones, but he has potential. If you have anything you think I should add, feel free to tell me!

Yume Kishii

- Highschool student, about 16

- She's very quiet and timid, but sometimes has moments where her intense expressions freak people out a bit

- Despite her shy nature, she actually always dreamed of being a children's book author

- She has long black hair that she normally hides her face behind, and she sometimes wears the most ridiculous outfits outside of school hours since she doesn't care about fashion

- She's actually very observant and uses things she sees during school and in public in her stories. She also doesn't call anyone by their name, but instead by a nickname that matches something about them (Example: "Street Racer", "Fast Eater", "Eraser Thief", "Bunny Bag", etc).

- Quirk:

Perspective: Character can put an audience or reader into a trance-like state where they can 'become' the character they're reading

Takashi Azuki

- About 6 years old physically (but not really, his quirk is kind of complicated)

- His mother is a technician, and his other mom was an agent that helped a popular hero's meetings and public image (for this reason she was killed by a villain sympathizer)

- He Judges other people too quickly and if always cautious and careful because of his mother's overprotection

- He's rather pessimistic, he doesn't mean to be. Because of his quirk, he was almost sent to live at a quirk institution that cared for people with dangerous, disabling, or live changing quirks (he ended up not taking the offer)

- His Quirk:

Decelerated Aging: He ages at a rate 3 times slower than others. Right now, he looks 6, but is actually 18. (To remember his age, I like to look at my fingers. You know how they have 3 sections? Well put 1 finger up, and he's in the body of a 1 year old, count the sections -1,2,3- he's that age mentally. Another example would be putting up 5 fingers -13,14,15- sections total, that'd mean when he's 13,14, and 15 mentally, he'd be in the body of a 5 year old) [Side note: please don't be weird about him]

Akimasa Dobayashi

- 9 years old, somehow best friends with Azuki

- He's quite understanding of Azuki's living situation, and he's very kind and open you everyone he meets

- He's very rough and rowdy, always wanting to play (and always ending up with a new wound or infection, or sprain, illness,etc)

- He's very enthusiastic and always looking for new adventures. He likes to use his quirk on Azuki when he asks, as it always relieves him a little

- Sorry if he's rather plain, I haven't had much time to develop his character

- Quirk:

Age Manipulation (others): The ability to (temporarily) change the age of someone or several people around them.

The Twins: Akira and Akiro Fushimi

° Akira:

- Loves to talk about what she's accomplished and always needs the approval of others (but not for selfish reasons, she just likes making others happy)

- 12 years old, and is twins with Akiro. With Akiro around, their good luck and bad luck powers cancel each other out.

- She's always praised and a little popular because of her 'fortune' gift.

- Always stands up for and protects her brother from any unreasonable hate/bullying. She won't hesitate to cut off a friendship for this reason.

- Is obsessed with the latest in pop culture

- Quirk:

Fortune: The ability to make unlikely good events more likely (i.e. good luck)

° Akiro:

- Keeps to himself for the most part, mainly to avoid any bullying or extra hatred

- 12 years old, and is twins with Akira. Without Akira around, small disasters strike him and those around him. Got 'unlucky' with his power, as no one wants to be around him without Akira around. A bit envious of his sister.

- Will do anything for friends or family, but is suspicious of new people at first

- Probability Manipulation (Bad Luck): The ability to make unlikely bad events more likely. It's automatic and not at all under his control. He's also been offered the chance to live at a quirk institution. Declined due to his sister begging him to stay because she'd miss him too much

° Both:

- Are considered the "Twins of Fortune or Flames"

- Have a bit of a reputation around the school and neighboring area

- They always have to be around each other to cancel out their quirks, and they both wear this little matching necklaces that is a single good luck coin you'd normally see lucky cats holding in their paw

Anything past this point is very new or very roughly made, so it might not make so much sense. It's all very airy and fluid. Sorry about that. Suggestions and ideas highly welcomed.

Vigilante Groups I made!

"The Pack" - a group of individuals with animal-based quirks who work together as a team. They are fiercely loyal to one another and use their enhanced physical abilities and senses to take down villains.

"The Medics" - a group of trained medical professionals with healing quirks who provide medical aid to those in need. They also work to expose corrupt hospitals and medical facilities.

"The Outcasts" - a group of vigilantes who have been rejected by society for various reasons. They band together to fight against the system that has failed them.

"The Reapers" - a group of former villains who have turned their lives around and now use their experience and knowledge to take down other villains. They're a controversial group, as some people don't believe that former villains can truly change, but they're dedicated to proving their worth.

"The Watchdogs" - a group of people who have lost loved ones to villain attacks and have decided to take matters into their own hands. They patrol the streets and keep an eye out for any suspicious activity, and they're not afraid to use force if necessary.

"The Jackals" - a very punk-themed goth group that focuses on fighting villains and for freedom of expression. They're normally dressed in very flashy, spiky goth/emo attire with eye catching makeup or accessories. They are a group that's strength is in numbers, as there's hundreds (possibly thousands if you include sympathizers) across the nation. They're also a controversial group since some people don't agree with the aggressive ways they go about things.

○*:;;;:*○*:;;;:*○*:;;;:*○*:;;;:*○*:;;;:*○*:;;;:*○*:;;;:*

Aya Suzuki:

A middle-aged woman with a tough exterior and a no-nonsense attitude, Aya is the owner of a successful bar in the city's nightlife district. Her quirk is "Alcohol Empowerment", which enhances her strength and durability the more she drinks. Aya has short black hair and a scar above her left eyebrow, and she usually wears leather jackets and jeans. Despite her gruff demeanor, she cares deeply for her regular customers and has a soft spot for troubled youth.

Haru Takechi:

Colorblind, nice kind personality. Very polite and laid back. He's one of UA's many landscapers. His quirk: Thermal vision. He's friends with some of the students that see him working. Appearance: Always wearing gardening outfits. Short beige-white hair. Has crosshairs for pupils due to his quirk. Secretly has one wear pierced from when he was a rebellious teen. Age: around 30

Mei Nakamura:

A shy and introverted high school student who is secretly a talented graffiti artist. Her quirk is "Ink Manipulation", which allows her to control the ink in pens and paint markers to create intricate designs and patterns. Mei has long black hair that she keeps in a braid or two, and her eyes are a deep blue color. She often wears baggy clothing and a hoodie to blend in with the crowd, but becomes more confident and expressive when she's creating art. Her dream is to one day have a gallery show featuring her work.

Ah, that's all I can write for right now, I'm exhausted! It was very fun though, but I'm sorry if some of that didn't make sense! I haven't updated any of my characters in a long while, as I've been too busy coming up with writing ideas so I can finish the requests I've received ദി ᷇ᵕ ᷆ )♡

Seriously though, if anyone has any suggestions at all, no matter what it is, I'd love to hear it!

Or, if you like my writing and want a character of yours to have a part in a story, I'd be more than willing! Just pop it in with a request, and I'll do my best! ٩( ᐖ )و

If you have any questions about my characters or writing, I'd be glad to answer them! If you want to talk about your own characters, I'd be glad to listen or help give advice!

*Sorry for the rant. I didn't intend to write so much, I just got a bit carried away. Also I'm going to be honest, I was half asleep writing this, so please bear no mind to any errors, thank you very much*

#original character #original art #character art #my characters #my oc art #ocs #オリジナルキャラクター #オリキャラ #オリジナル #キャラクター #キャラクターデザイン #my art

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charaismaticdreemurr · 2 years

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✨|| • My account introduction • ||✨

Wowie hello!! I've been scrolling for a moment, thought I'd introduce. I am Chara Dreemurr, a fictive that has been around for a little over a year. This account is entirely mine and the host will not be allowed to mess with it.

As my account age suggests I am extremely new to Tumblr! I am not aware how anything works - and mainly are on here for other fictives like me. This account will be here for conversating with other fictives, posting my art or pictures of me, and ranting about things. Please if you're involved in Undertale or Deltarune feel free to message me! I'd love to chat to whoever!!

This is a process I've decided apon to help with my situation of which I'm still not used to. If I make a mistake just let me know!♥️

||• !! Actual info !!•||

• I am 14 years old, my birthday is the 15th of December so I will be 15 very soon! Just because I'm younger understand that I am not stupid, if you make a suggestive joke around me I will understand what you mean. Filthy Sinner..

• I am Asexual and Aromantic. Please refrain from making suggestive jokes and do not by any means make sexual comments or remarks twords me. I am literally a child.

• I am alone in this system of mine but I don't mind all too much. The headspace looks like the flowerbed, the barrier still shining through the hole at the top. I spend most of my time laying in the flowers and listening to music ^^.

• I am a female and go by She / Her pronouns, however I don't mind They/ Them. If you have a problem with my pronouns DNI, I do not have to go by your "Theorys" or "Head cannons" on my gender.

• I play VrChat a lot and the only other systems I know are from there- however sometimes they get a bit overwhelming and I don't commonly see people from my source, usually just AU's.

• I have a lot of confusing feelings twords my old friends and family.. Frisk's and Sanses give me most of the confusing emotions but I still like them, just please understand that all the pain caused wasn't of my own doing. As long as we all understand that I'm okay ^^.

• My account may mention Su!cide and the G3n0c!de. I like to talk about my feelings now sense I never really did for so long.

||• Memories •||

• I don't remember much from before the fall. I'd blame that on trama if I'm honest, but in reality it probably has something to do with not being real in the first place. ;v;

I remember living in a small village quite a bit away from the mountain. I was an only child with my mom and dad being the only ones in the house, I do not remember their names nor do I remember my old last name.

I was outcasted among my peers and beat up a lot in my younger years, eventually I started fighting back, causing my parents to become irritated with me as I almost always returned home with random injuries that I was never honest about. My father was the worst of the two, I believe him and mom were having relationship issues so he was always out drinking and didn't come home until very late. I spent a lot of time in my room drawing and sleeping.. sometimes sneaking out and going on walks to clear my head. My parents were very religious and dragged me along to sermons, even though I didn't really understand it.. My mental issues got to be a bit much for my parents and they resorted to many different punishments to try to change my behavior which only made things worse. To make a very very long story short, eventually everything became too much and I climbed the mountain. I had been completely sure that it was going to be the end. I was quite roughed up when Asriel found me but surprisingly, alive. I didn't say much for quite a while and even refused to eat for a bit.. but the Dreemurrs were so fucking patient. I will never get over the amount of kindness they showed me.. I would've done anything for them.

I've been though all the " routes " more than once, I stopped keeping track a long time ago. My Frisk kept repeating the "neutral" and sometimes didn't even progress at all. I had a lot of moments with them where we just sat and enjoyed the scenery.. I have brief memories of the waterfalls and flowers being hang out spots.. They always tried to get me to talk about the things I had been through but I was too stubborn to really talk- However after the first "True Pacifist" they had a lot of questions.. A lot of what they wanted to know wasn't revealed to them until the g3n0c!de. I quickly realized through that whole experience, that my emotional issues were worse than I had thought.. At some points I had become so emotionally numb that I just spilled- I try not to think about it too much.

|| • Closer • ||

I'll probably update this if information changes or if I remember more stuff.. I really wish I had talked to people about my feelings before but hey, guess I'll make up for it now^^'.

#chara fictive #my art #introduction

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imchoosingnottoexist · 2 years

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Authors notes: My apologies for the quality of this one, I finished it late. The next episode will be a return to expected quality

Statement of Syed Felice, regarding a patient in the hospital room opposite his.

The Sims Epilogues returns to London Central Hospital. A familiar face performs an experiment, while a hospital patient becomes unfortunate enough to stumble across it.

I've been sick for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was a child I've been in and out of hospitals for several illnesses I'd rather not disclose to you. My parents didn't know how to help, and the doctors could only keep me as comfortable as my body would let them.

My most recent hospital trip was to London Central, I took a bad fall and that exposed a few other problems that had to be looked at for a week or so. I just got out of a wheelchair and we're all hoping I don't have to go back in too soon. All-in-all it's very unpleasant.

I don't get many visitors. Everyone's grown kinda used to it. I mean, yeah, they're concerned, but I just tell them go about their lives. If I'm dying they'll be the first to know. Of course I joke, but sometimes I think that could be an actual problem.

London Central is an odd place. I don't think it's terrible, in fact it's one of the nicer facilities I've gone to. But it has this vibe about it. The bushes outside are a bit too dead to still have green on them. The equipment here seems colder, and sharper. I guess these are weird things to notice, but it all makes me kind of uneasy.

It's just me in my room, and the familiar hospital smell. As many times as I've been in and out I never get used to the smell. It's so sharp, preparing you for the pain you'll have to go through. Disinfecting and cleaning and fixing until you're totally different. Hopefully you'll be better after the ordeal. But not always, rarely, are you fixed.

I'm projecting. I know I am. I suppose after everything I should be used to it by now. But I'm not. I'm not.

Things started getting weird when I had just been admitted, I spent that entire day just looking around my room, I couldn't muster the energy to do anything else. Not even pick up the phone and scroll. There was a room across from mine, it was completely unlabeled, the numbers on the wall had been removed and there was still a mark on the wall where they had been placed.

Whenever a draft came through the hall I would get the slightest whiff of iron, like traces of blood left in a butchered steak. At the time I wasn't really in a state to think that was odd, but looking back on it I see it was a sign of what was happening.

It was 2:30 A.M when I heard the nurse across the hall. It was Nurse Pendleton, her scrubs were wrinkled and her name tag shined in the moonlight, she had been the only person to enter that room as long as I'd been there. She carried a messenger bag covered in old brown stains. I heard her footsteps echo down the hall before she opened the door and shut it behind her. About halfway into her 30 minute long visit to the room I started to smell iron again.

When Mrs. Pendleton left the smell of iron had turned more to the smell of blood. More… fleshy… than it had been previously. Her bag was empty and now slightly tinged with red stains around the opening. Her sleeves were rolled up and she looked to be writing something on her wrist in sharpie marker. Throughout this entire situation I had been acting like I was asleep, but when she left the room I felt the strangest sensation of being watched. That she knew I was awake, even though she never looked at me.

I will admit, the hospital gave me a lot of pain medication. More than I think was necessary. But I know what I saw. The day after Nurse Pendleton went into the numberless room I was permitted to leave my room and start taking short walks. I can only sit in one place for so long, y'know.

The wing opposite mine had another numberless room, this one had caution tape over it. I think it might have been under construction, except there was no equipment that would indicate. I didn't want to look any closer, and I feel better thinking that it was simply under maintenance.

The nurse assisting me in walking kept me from going near either of the numberless rooms. She never told me not to go near, it was always a slight nudge, or change in direction. I didn't ask, mostly because I didn't want to go near them either. I saw Nurse Pendleton on my walk, she was typing away on a computer with what I assume was patient records. When I passed by she gave me an odd look, like I was an experiment and she was a scientist, looking eagerly for results.

That night I was woken much earlier. 11:25, maybe. The medication made me sleep sooner than I would have otherwise. There was a clanging of metal in the numberless room. Like a bedpan, or railing being torn apart, then the pieces smashed together. The clanging concluded with the sound of a pipe backing up. It was similar to the clogging of a toilet but at the time I thought it was more like… swallowing. A loud gulp that was just barely audible through the door.

Nurse Pendleton didn't come that night. No one arrived to stop the gurgling that came from the other side of the door. The fleshy wretch continued until 1 A.M, when I fell asleep.

I sensed a tention in the air the next day. The nurses seemed more on edge, especially in my corner of the hall. In fact everyone was behaving strangely. Nurse Pendleton entered the room during the day, she was holding a box this time, it was bigger than the purse and not stained

The box was slightly wet however, the bottom was beginning to darken with a liquid I couldn't identify.

After 20 minutes she left the room without the box , and she didn't write on her wrist. I assume she hadn't because it was during the day and someone might have seen her.

I could see the black marks of her marker ink tattoos under her sleeve though. Only if I looked hard enough. They didn't look like letters, or even sketches. They looked like the frantic scribblings of a madwoman, I think I saw the one closest to her vein move slowly in place.

The nurse looking after me took me to my room. My pain had gone down a lot but I was still having difficulty moving. I tried to shift while laying in bed but my arms just wouldn't work right. I couldn't hold my phone because I kept shaking or locking up. That night I smelled iron again. Nurse Pendleton, who's oddness I had now become accustomed to, had brought a duffel bag to the numberless room.

I heard the sound of something being thrown against the door. It hit with a wet thud and slid down before settling on the ground. I didn't hear much else, or at least no noise came through the door. When Nurse Pendleton left she didn't have the duffel bag with her. Her eyes were wide and she didn't blink, instead she wrote frantically on her arm. I couldn't make out the notes, they were unintelligible and moved whenever I tried to look at them, then she briskly walked away.

I couldn't bring myself to leave bed the next day, my body just wouldn't work how I wanted. When I tried to get up my legs would go numb, when I tried to grab the side of my bed my hand would lock up. So I sat until nightfall, occasionally turning to stave off pain.

In the middle of the night I was awoken to the strangest feeling. I didn't know what time it was, I was too overwhelmed to check the clock. I felt the most enthralling feeling of intrigue. Like the call of a siren that I had to answer

It was coming from the numberless room.

I tried to get up and my body didn't struggle like it had before. Without any difficulty I climbed out of bed and walked to the door. Nurse Pendleton hadn't been there, her visit would have woken me, so it seemed like I was free to enter as I pleased. I stood in front of the door, the smell of iron was the strongest it had been. Filling my senses with the scent of blood, fresh from muscle.

I took the handle of the door and jostled it open. My body still strained to perform the task, but my arm still shifted and stretched the same. Entering the door the waft of bloody stench hit me like a train. The rotten copper smell assaulted my nostrils and made the bile in my stomach creep up my throat.

At first I thought the room was covered in some odd pink wallpaper. The coating on the walls flexed, bulged, bubbled, and in some places stretched so thin I could see the white wall underneath. But this was no wallpaper. It looked like skin. The skin grew out from the corner, and at this point was draped over at least half the room.

From the floor flesh and bone grew like some foul garden. Sprouting tumors that throbbed or bones on the verge of cracking. I screamed at the center of the cancer growing from the corner of the room and… it screamed back. It opened it's mouth, no, mouths and let out a guttural scream.

The noise was deep and wet, like whatever it was screaming from was clogged thick with mucus. The shout dislodged what I can only assume was food from some of the mouths. Chunks of meat, bone, and even shards of stainless steel shrapnel all slick with saliva were regurgitated right in my direction.

The thing reached out an appendage to me from one of the growths on the walls. I don't think it was an arm. If it was an arm it was a crooked arm. Stretched and distorted beyond anything that could be considered functional, it was especially not human. The arm reached out to me and grabbed me by the wrist. I tried to fight it off and it ended up just scratching me before I could find my way out.

I ran out of the room in terror. When I exited into the hall I fell on the ground, my body had returned to not working again. Someone stood at the end of the hall, staring at me. She watched me run and fall helpless. There was Nurse Pendleton. She walked into my room and came out with my wheelchair, hoisting me into it's cloth seat. She rolled me to bed, and gently laid me in it. She didn't blink the entire time, and she stayed completely silent.

I didn't sleep all night. I tried desperately to clean the spit off myself, but nothing worked, I just wriggled in bed. The next morning Nurse Pendleton came to my room. She stood by my bed, and began to speak. She offered me 500 pounds to stay quiet about what happened, and told me that what was in that room would be dead by the next morning. I just nodded along, half asleep.

That night Nurse Pendleton went into the room and she didn't come out until that morning. She left without making a fuss, just nodding when it was done. Eventually my stay came to an end. I feel in tip-top shape now, better than before, actually.

Pendleton kept her end of the deal, she wired me 500 pounds after I left. I haven't mentioned whatever was in that room to anyone since. Except you. Don't let her know what I told you, please. I don't know what she could do to me.

#fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #mag200 #magpod #martin blackwood #jonmartin #peter lukas

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

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cherrycheridarling · 3 years

Text

"that was painfully sexist" | t.h.

marvel cast x actress!reader

warnings: sexism and swearing

summary: at a panel for the new avenger's film, the questions differ drastically between the female and male actors on stage.

wc: 1.4k

"Okay, a microphone is coming your way, sir."

"Hi! I'm Leonard with Pop Times Blog. My question is for Y/N." your eyes found the bearded man who stood amongst the crowd of reporters.

You nodded, signalling for him to continue, "Playing Silk or Cindy Moon must've came with a lot of challenges. One of them being the costume you are in for most of the film. Can you speak about that and how it fit?" he paused at your skeptical expression, "Like, we all know the suit is skin tight, so did you eat anything special or workout a lot and are you able to wear anything underneath it? Or do you wear a thong and no bra?"

You let out an unenthusiastic chuckle at his question. Beside you, you could hear your cast mates scoffing under their breath. It was common for the women of the MCU to get asked such questions and it saddened you that people normalized such a thing.

Leaning forward, you clasped your hands together and smiled before Robert reached behind Tom Holland and tapped your shoulder, "Would you like me to say something?"

You shook your head, but gave him a grateful grin before returning to the 'man' that asked you such a question, while maintaining eye contact you spoke, "Well, I think the most difficult part about wearing the Silk costume is taking it off after a long day because of how sweaty I get after shooting," you began to fan yourself dramatically, "It all just clings to my body like a second skin and since I am completely nude underneath, it just adds to the problem." sarcasm dripped from your lips as your cast mates snickered at your words.

You quietly laughed to yourself, "I'm only kidding. That question seemed like such a joke that I presumed you expected a joking answer." you cleared your throat, "In all seriousness, it's an honour wearing the suit and I did visit the gym and do some physical fitness regularly to prepare for the role, as did all my cast mates. As for what I wore underneath," you grinned cheekily, having too much fun messing with the reporter, "A Spider-Man onesie was my go-to."

The whole room let out laughs at your words as Tom grabbed your hand and gave you a small squeeze, feeling sorry that you had to answer such absurd questions.

"I hope everyone doesn't sexualize Cindy Moon. She's only a teenager in the film, so keep it in your pants people. That shit is illegal." Anthony pointed an accusing finger at the crowd.

"Thank you for your thoughtful question, Leonard!" Scarlett spoke up, "I hope you got the answer you were looking for."

"Okay, next person."

You sat back in your seat and fiddled with Tom's fingers as the questions were asked towards your cast mates.

"You handled that impressively well, love." Tom whispered in your ear.

You gave him a smile and a shrug before your name got called again, "My question is for Y/N and Tom Holland." a lady with curly blonde hair stood up, "Since Silk and Spider-Man's abilities are very similar, did you two bond over that during shooting or did it cause some rivalry between your characters due to the similarities?"

You felt a wave of relief at the question, thankful that it wasn't another sexist one. Tom looked at you before answering.

"Yeah, yeah. We bonded a lot over that fact and I don't think it caused any rivalry between us. I hope not." he chuckled before you leaned towards the mic.

"No, no. No rivalry. Just a lot of banter about whose character is stronger and who swings around better. It's a lot of fun having someone on set whose stunts are basically the same as yours. And Tom and I have both agreed that Silk is faster and better than Spider-Man." you said that last part quickly drawing laughs and a gasp from Tom.

He looked at you incredulously, "Not true! Spider-Man's suit is so much cooler than Silk's." he huffed like a child.

You smirked, "Who makes their webbing in a high school chemistry class and who has organic silk coming out of her fingertips that she also used to create her own suit?"

Your friends laughed at the banter beside you before Sebastian started to speak, "I have to agree with Y/N on this one. Silk also has that cool ass eidetic memory."

Chris Evans agreed, "And her Silk Sense is a thousand times stronger than Spider-Man's Spidey Sense."

"Isn't she able to know who an attacker is before she even sees them?" Hemsworth asked to which everyone nodded.

"Sorry, Spidey. Silk's just a top tier hero." Robert patted his shoulder as Tom sulked.

The questions began again as the laughter died down. You leaned over to Tom's ear, "Still love the actor who plays Spider-Man even if his character is inferior to mine." he shook his head with a smile at your words.

Questions ranged from the generic ones of the funniest moments on set to who's most likely to become a villain. Your nerves died down as no incompetent person asked another sexist question. Until one did.

"I have a question for Y/N." she was short with jet black hair, "Being around all these attractive men must be a challenge for you as a young female adult. It couldn't have been easy to control yourself around them. Have you had any sexual relationships with any of them or thought about engaging in any?"

Your jaw hung open at her words and before you could muster up a retort, Tom let his anger get the best of him. Was it his anger, his jealousy or his protectiveness? A mix of all three.

"That was painfully sexist." he spoke into the microphone. "I don't see how any of that is relevant to the film. Y/N is an outstanding actress and it's outrageous that you decide to focus on who she fucks rather than her talent."

"What in the actual fuck did she just ask?" Sebastian added, making you laugh.

Chris Evans spoke up next, "Indeed. I thought this was a promotion for the movie not a real life dating app."

Benedict chuckled, "I fail to see how Y/N's private life holds any relevancy to this panel or the film itself."

"It's twenty-nineteen, people! Leave your sexist ass shit at home!" Anthony exclaimed drawing claps from the cast.

Elizabeth shook her head, "I've had my fair share of inappropriate questions, but nothing as horrid as that."

"First y'all ask about her underwear, now you ask about her sex life? Jesus Christ." Scarlett pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Seriously, she's like a daughter to me. That was incredibly disrespectful." Robert added with a disappointed head shake.

Similar comments were added by the rest of the cast as you felt an overwhelming amount of love wash over you. You were so unimaginably grateful for the people next to you.

"You don't have to answer that." Paul Bettany reminded you.

You shook your head and cleared your throat, "Thank you, guys." you looked to your cast mates, "But I'll answer. No, I have not. This cast is my second family and I've grown greatly as a person with them. I'm immensely thankful for the opportunity to call them my friends. And I agree, these men sitting up here with me are undoubtedly attractive, but they are also a great pain in the ass at times," everyone laughed at your choice of words, "And have I thought about having sex with any of them? Nope. Just Scar, Zoe and Liz." you finished with a wink as the room clapped for you.

You couldn't help but to feel a slight bit of sympathy for the woman. Her question was, without a doubt, uncalled for and unbelievably sexist, but the comments from the cast must've made this her most embarassing moment.

"I'm sure you meant no harm with your question. But a little heads up for next time; most actors prefer to talk about their career and their films rather than who they are laying in bed with. But thank you for coming out. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day." you gave her a genuine smile as she cowered back into her seat.

Robert once again reached over and gave your shoulder a squeeze, proud of how you handled the situation.

Tom interlaced your fingers with his and rubbed small circles on your knuckles.

You really were at home with these people and you couldn't have asked for a better family.

#marvel cast x reader #marvel cast x actress!reader #marvel #marvel fan fiction #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #sebastian stan #chris evans #robert downey jr #anthony mackie #chris hemsworth #paul bettany #benedict cumberbatch #scarlett johansson #elizabeth olsen

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luvlyrv · 3 years

Text

Uncover | Seulgi x F!Reader

Genre/warnings: fluff, angst, homophobia (religious)

Summary: You quickly learn that while it was easy to be dishonest with yourself, it was nearly impossible to lie to Seulgi.

Word Count: 4.7k A/N: This has been something wracking up in my brain since June. It's kind of embarrassing that it's taken this long but it's a lovechild of my emotions. Enjoy, and I hope you feel things.

Date: 9/21/21

You can't imagine a day without her, because she's always been there. Right from the day you could remember. You bet that she could be your last memory too.

Your first memory has you sitting in the living room playing with your toys as you anxiously eye the other child in the room. Some strangers had rung your doorbell and your mom and dad had welcomed them into the house. Now they were in the kitchen, their voices blending into each other in the background.

The small girl in front of you decided to take the liberty of picking up your toys and playing with them. She ran around playing in the imaginary world in her head. You think that she's having fun and that you want to have fun too, but you can't seem to move from your position. As you slowly try to build up the courage to talk to her she approaches you.

She had been glancing at you from the corner of her eyes too. She watched your shy self idly playing all alone. She found it hard to approach you, scared of you pushing her away or being mean, but she thought maybe it was worth it. You could be a friend.

"Hi!" The strange girl is right in front of you with one of your stuffed toys in hand. "Do you want to play with me? I'm Seulgi!"

"I'm Y/N…"

For the rest of the hour the two of you chased each other in a shared adventure. Enraptured in your own little wonderland until your parents had to pull you apart.

Soon it became a ritual for those strangers, who you later learned to be Mr. and Mrs. Kang, to visit your house. Along them was always their daughter Seulgi, who wouldn't hesitate to pull you into a large hug right before starting a new adventure with you.

You slightly trail behind your best friend. You smile at yourself from the sight of Seulgi happily skipping, somehow filled with even more vigor than she usually has. She's always been filled with much more energy than you, amazed by even the smallest of things. You suppose something truly spectacular must be happening today for her to feel so extra. She turns her head over to look at you, flashing you her perfect smile with her perfect cheeks. The ones you always want to squish when you remind her of how cute she is.

She continues to bounce but slows down to be by your side. One of the favorite parts of your day, and hopefully hers too, would be the peaceful walk the two of you would always share before and after school. It always reminded you of how close you are. How you can always rely on her to listen and to brighten up your day.

She bites her lip while still smiling. She must be thinking about something.

"What's got you so excited today?" You ask her with a giggle.

"Guess!" She pesters leaning into you. A familiar feeling emerges in your chest from the contact.

"You know I'm really bad at guessing…"

"Well why can't you try?"

"All I know is that it has to be something really special, right?" You decide to lean back and push her a little as a tease.

"It is! Mom and dad bought me my favorite ice cream that we can share later today!"

You laugh at her as she continues giving her dumb smile. Seulgi moves in front of you with her eyebrows raised, waiting to hear your opinion about the news.

"Is that it?" You ask still laughing. She pouts a little.

"What do you mean 'is that it'? It's my favorite! And I get to share it with you!" With that you pull Seulgi in for a side hug.

"I'm kidding, I'm excited too."

You enjoy listening to whatever nonsense Seulgi thinks about and decides to spill to you as you guys continue walking. You feel a bit disheartened at the sight of the school building, but looking at Seulgi again is enough to make the disappointment go away.

As much as you wish it did, your schedule wasn't entirely with your best friend. Instead you had to split up as you entered the school grounds to your different classes. Fortunately you shared at least some classes with her, and most importantly lunch. So when you sit down at your desk with nobody talking to you, you don't feel too lonely. The anticipation of being reunited with Seulgi was enough for you.

As usual Seulgi finds your figure sitting down at a lunch table and immediately rushes towards you. She taps your shoulder as she sits down, hurriedly opening up her lunch box, her beastly appetite striking again.

"Oooh." She oogles as the both of you breathe in the sudden aroma of homemade food. You peer over to look at the contents of her lunch box. You swore that you can see the steam coming off of her rice.

"Open up!" Seulgi playfully demands of you. You oblige as she not so carefully throws a grape your way. It would've been lost if you didn't move your head to make up for the completely inaccurate trajectory.

"How are you still bad at this?" You ask her after chewing.

"Maybe I just like to see you work for your food." You laugh at her response as you carefully pick up a spring roll from your box and place it in hers.

"Mom fried it this morning so you better enjoy."

You enjoy the long-time tradition of sharing food and eating in relative silence. That time was short lived though as a small group of girls joined your table. You didn't mind them much, you'd even consider them casual friends. At the same time though, they were bothering you.

You found it strange that despite finally being with Seulgi you felt so lonely. So lost.

Seulgi's popular, you know that. A lot of people try to befriend her and fight for her attention. Being the social butterfly she is she never hesitated to say hello back and return the friendliness. By proxy you met a lot of nice people, a lot of not so nice people, and more. They never really stuck by for you though. They stayed for Seulgi.

You wish you understood why you were so bothered by those that stayed. Why you were always feeling jealous recently. You wonder if it's natural to feel so intensely sick when you watch your best friend's attention be pulled away by several different girls at a time, or laugh at a guys joke. Well, maybe you do know why.

You quietly sigh and push the thought away, instead trying to join in the chatter and laugh with everyone at the table. Just as you were about to calm down and ease into the group a sudden large group of guys and girls approach. One boy in particular seems to be leading the pack. You purse your lips as you silently watch them come over. Seulgi absent-mindedly continues talking, completely unaware of what was about to occur.

You tighten your hands into a ball as a feeling bubbles inside you. You can't place what it is. Is it fear? Anger? Jealously? It's probably both.

The boy also tightens his hands as they grip onto his shirt. You watch him bite his lip and see how a red color crawls up his neck and reaches the tips of his ears. You hold in a breath as he finally arrives at the table and Seulgi looks up at him.

"S-Seulgi." He barely manages to say her name aloud.

"Huh?" She looks at him cluelessly but gives him her full attention anyways.

"I like you! A lot! So if you can, please go out with me!" The boy's words spill out, as if his mouth was a floodgate holding them back. He reaches behinds him and quickly bends over to give Seulgi a piece of red paper, shaped like a heart. He probably wrote about his feelings extensively on it.

Your eyes had been focused on the love-stricken boy. It's hard for you to move your eyes towards Seulgi. You realize now what you're feeling. You fear what you'll see when you look over at Seulgi to see her reaction.

You notice that she's red too, the color slowly blossoming across her cheeks.

Why does this hurt you?

"Erm, ah, thank you." She says out of politeness and bows back. She gives him a smile and that seems to excite him. "I'll think about your confession."

He eagerly nods his head and leaves the table, happy with the results of his actions. The crowd around him seem to think that was a good ending and started whispering and congratulating him. You look back at your table and the girls are murmuring too.

"He's cute, you should definitely go for him!"

"I heard he treated his last girlfriend nicely. They're still on good terms."

"I've never seen you date before. Isn't now your time to explore?"

Seulgi just takes it all in and nods along with what they say. Your head hangs low as you pick at your food. You don't dare look up. You're scared of seeing Seulgi's face again. You're scared that tears will start falling.

It was like the weight of the world had fallen on your chest.

When the bell dismisses you from lunch you quickly go to your next class. You don't say goodbye to Seulgi or any of the other girls. You feel the light graze of Seulgi's fingertips as she tries to stop you, but you're too fast.

The rest of the school day is you trying to focus on studying, and when your last class finishes you're not sure what you'll do. Everybody leaves the classroom before you as you take some time for yourself. Breathing in and out, you mentally prepare yourself to face Seulgi, as if she was some type of monster.

As you exit the building and get near the gates you see a swarm of people with Seulgi in the center. They're probably there to ask about how she feels about the confession that happened. You sigh and almost contemplate leaving without her, but her eyes quickly find yours. Seulgi politely but abruptly says her goodbyes and runs towards you.

As Seulgi's figure grows nearer there's a feeling of satisfaction. It was like you had won some petty fight, and that feeling was able to erase the fear and nerves you had earlier. A smile grows on your face she reaches your side, your bodies automatically matching your steps. You enjoy the warmth when she locks her arm with yours. Not knowing what to say, you let silence fill the space in between the two of you until Seulgi decided to break it.

"So, do you wanna stay at my place for a bit so we can eat that ice cream?"

Seulgi's keys jingle as she unlocks her front door. You follow in after her, putting your shoes away as she dashes towards her refrigerator to retrieve the ice cream from the freezer. You walk up towards her as she hands one to you. Naturally, both of you make your way outside into her backyard.

Her backyard is quaint, housing a nice garden that her mother often tends and one large tree. The two of you rest under it, appreciating the winding arms of the apple tree that has always given you and Seulgi refuge. You enjoy the taste of the ice cream, perhaps the shade was enhancing its flavor. Either way you understood why its Seulgi's favorite. The refreshing taste and Seulgi's presence puts a smile on your face. You feel yourself opening up again as you guys joke and talk about your day in between bites and licks. By the time you finish eating your ice cream she had managed to convince you that she needed your extra help in math. As always you agreed to tutor her.

She argues that you should stay underneath the tree as she gets up to throw away the trash. You watch as she goes back inside the house, coming out again with a shiny apple in hand that was picked only a couple days ago. You laugh a little as you ask,

"Still hungry?"

"Enough for a little snack."

She sits by you and takes a rest on your lap. You brush her hair away as you look into her eyes. You can tell she's thinking about something.

"What's wrong?" You ask her.

"Well, I was just wondering, why were you upset earlier?" She says in a serious tone.

"Huh?"

"You didn't even say goodbye at lunch, and don't pretend I didn't notice you almost leaving without me." There's a hint of hurt in her voice. You feel bad for not keeping your emotions in check better, that you threw a fit over something so small.

"Well," Your voice trails off as your mind struggles to think of a response, "what does that boy mean to you?" You decide to ask.

"Oh so now you want to know about that too?" There's only a slight annoyance in her voice as she gives you an eyeroll.

"I'm your best friend, of course I'm curious." Seulgi huffs at your response. She can't blame you for wondering so she takes a moment to think before answering honestly.

"I mean, I guess they weren't wrong. He's kinda cute, and I know it took a lot for him to say that to me. I admire him for it." She said it in a casual manner, as if it wasn't a big deal. Yet for you it meant everything. And it hurt.

You can't control the frown that found its way on your face.

"Hey…" Seulgi quickly gets up from your lap. She has a confused expression as her eyes scans yours. "Hey, what's wrong?" Her voice is soft as she puts a hand on your shoulder.

Your chest is about to explode.

"Do you like him or something?" She continues to grip onto your shoulder with a confused face. She thinks she was the one who did something wrong. That she's stealing someone away from you, but that was so different from the truth.

"No, Seulgi, I-" You pause to think about what you're going to say. Something was about to come out instinctively, and you don't know whether or not that was the best decision.

"You what?"

She presses you for an answer but you're still thinking. You're thinking about you know you can't handle her possibly being close to someone else. To share all of her laughs with that boy. To smile at him and spend time with him. To do all the things that exists between you and her. Living would feel wrong if you were no longer the one she ran to and spilled her secrets to.

Who are you if not Seulgi's biggest and only confidant? The only one who could soothe her in her darkest moments? The one who understands every feeling and thought just by the way she blinks?

You're intimately familiar with the feeling in your chest now. You think that you know what it is too, but that doesn't make you hate it any less. If you could, you'd sacrifice every fiber of your being to forget that feeling and throw it away. To pretend it doesn't exist. But your wishes don't make it go away.

You can be dishonest with yourself, but it's impossible to lie to Seulgi. Not when she looks at you like that.

"I like you."

The words are barely a whisper but she hears. Seulgi's hand falls off your shoulder and you want to cry again. You said the wrong thing. She was going to think you're disgusting. She would never go on a walk with you again. You'll never smell her perfume again. You'll never hear her laughter again. She'd never touch you again. Never speak to you again.

Her mouth is open slack. Your eyes water and you breathe in, readying yourself to apologize profusely. To rescind the blasphemous words that slipped out of your foul mouth.

"I'm so sorry. Just ignore it. I take it back. I think I'm sick or something, you know, delirious. Just ignore it please. Please." Tears begins to fall down your face as Seulgi seemingly snaps back to reality. She reaches towards you, taking your face in her hands as her thumbs swipe away the tears.

"Oh my god, no, don't cry." She begs you to stop, but you can't.

"I-I'm, I'm sorry." The tears continue to make their way down your face. A horrible sickness wells in your stomach and suddenly it feels below freezing as you shake uncontrollably.

"No, don't be." She hugs you tight and whispers in your ear. "I like you too. So stop crying. For me, please." She strokes your back as you cry, hoping that the touch could settle you down.

It takes a while for you to register what she says, but as soon as you do your body seizes up. You think that maybe your everything, your soul, has shattered into a million pieces from Seulgi's words. How in the world could it be true? It couldn't be, not in this universe, not in this timeline.

Yet it was.

When Seulgi hears your sniffling stop and your body letting go of its tension she separates her body from yours. Her eyes are all you can see, and all you can see in them is pain.

"I'm sorry for making you worried." You felt guilty that she had to see you cry. The outburst at school wasn't great either.

"Don't worry about it" She reassures you by taking a hand in hers, stroking it with her delicate fingers to show you her affection. For several moments you allow yourself to breathe. Seulgi also took the time to process everything, and the two of you stared at each other with the new understanding of your feelings. Time seems to pass so slowly when you observe each other with care.

"Seulgi…" You mumble when what felt like years passed. She understood what you meant when she saw the way you looked at her lips.

In that moment you couldn't care anymore. Neither could Seulgi, it seemed, as you pressed your lips on hers and she pressed back. Greedily, the two of you dived in for a taste. Your lips on hers, her tongue in your mouth, it was something you needed. It was a flavor you could relish forever, perhaps this is what sin tasted like. Yes, this is what they'd call it. A sin.

It feels like everything has changed, but at the same time it hasn't. You still spend every second possible with Seulgi. You spend your time doing the same things. Yet everything feels so different, it feels brand new. Magically, it feels better than before. Is this the power that Seulgi has over you?

Nobody knows, nobody needs to know. After all, you're still Seulgi's bestfriend. Is there really anything different? Maybe just the tighter hugs, the kisses, and the alluring smiles, but that's all. Life is easy this way.

After bidding Seulgi goodbye in front of her house you go home to eat dinner with your family. You come home and greet your parents with a smile as you rush to join them at the dinner table. They share that smile as they take note of your enthusiasm recently. As you eat quietly for a while your mom finally asks you what's been going on to make you shine so much.

"Well..." You debate on what to say. It's been over a month since you confessed to Seulgi but you were still feeling high. You've been holding it for so long you wished you could tell someone. Why not them? You want them to be happy with you too. "I've been dating Seulgi."

"Hm?" Your mom asks you somewhat aggressively for clarification. The sudden stillness in the air alarms you. You look up from your food to see your mom staring as your dad stops eating.

"I-I told her I liked her and she liked me back." You say hoping to clear whatever confusion was occuring. Yet the look on your parents didn't fade.

"What happened?" You father's question sounds more like a statement as he sternly places his utensils down.

"What do you mean what happened? I just told you."

"What happened to make you like this?" His cold voices breaks a little as you notice his eyes tearing up. Was he seriously upset about this?

"You're joking, right?" Your mom joins in with an angry tone.

"Of course I'm not. Mom, she makes me really happy." You struggle to keep yourself composed under the scrutiny of both of your parents.

"Y/N. You are not happy. You're messing with the devil right now and he's fucking up your mind."

"Have you not been doing your prayers?"

You can barely fight for yourself at the dinner table. Your parents argue with and over you, about the causes and the whys. About the signs and what happens next. You cry as you watch your decision unfold into your nightmare.

You knew deep down inside this would happen, but you hoped and prayed that it wasn't true. Perhaps Seulgi made you too happy, too brave. Everything else felt like it was going right so you convinced yourself this would too. You've flown too close to the sun and it backfired. You should've never said anything.

As you try to block out the fight unraveling in front of you you could only scream one thing while crying. "Wouldn't God want to love me? Wouldn't He want you to love me too?"

The scrape of the wooden chair echos as your mom shoots up straight. "I will not house some heathen under my roof. Get out until you realize what you've done to this family."

It's raining. The relentless torrent of water against your body traps in the coldness from the night, leaving you shivering as your feet move on their own. They move to the only other place that feels like home. The only other person that feels like home.

Soon enough you find yourself in front of a familiar door, incessantly knocking. Muffled footsteps come from the other side of the door as you hear locks being undone until the door finally opens. Instantly there's a look of worry on Mr. Kang's face as he takes in the scene in front of him. He quickly ushers you in and shuts the door.

"Who is it?" A voice rings from upstairs.

"It's Y/N!" Mr. Kang yells back, and soon enough you hear a flurry of footsteps coming downstairs. Seulgi, in her tired glory, appears. She rushes towards you as her father went off to find you some towels to dry off with.

"Oh my god, what happened? Why are you here? Are you okay?" Seulgi's honey eyes are glistening with worry. She doesn't seem to care too much about the fact that you're soaked as she embraces you in a hug. Her body soothes you, its warmth penetrating the cold, wet clothes that clung to your body. You let her ground you back to reality before speaking.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now." You barely manage to get the words out. Your throat feels tight, constricted. Throughout the entire time the tears haven't stopped running down your face as it mixed with the rain water. Seulgi rubs your back as her father comes back. Both of them begin patting you dry.

It feels a bit pathetic as you have two people fretting over you so much, but you're too tired to move. Maybe not even tired, but rather stuck in your own thoughts.

"Go get her something to change into. Are you gonna stay the night?" Her dad asks after making Seulgi go back upstairs to find clothes. You just nod in response and follow her.

When you enter Seulgi's room you find her hastily going through her drawers, finding something comfortable for you to wear. After digging through her clothes she hands you some sweatpants and an oversized shirt, much like her own outfit she was sporting. Your hands are in front of you and holding onto the clothing, yet you still can't seem to move much. Instead your lips tremble as you look at the floor. Seulgi sighs as she nears you, unfolding the clothes and looking at your trembling hands.

"Don't make me dress you." She half-teases. When she realizes you can't will yourself to move a grim line stretches across her face. She wonders what has gotten you so riled up to act this way.

Carefully, she removes your clothes and throws them into the laundry pile. Her fingers innocently skim your body as she puts on the clothes for you, with you doing the minimal movements required to help her. Over the years she's already been more than familiar with your body, and the same for you with her touch. Although you can't vocalize it you silently appreciate the care and intimacy she demonstrates.

Soon enough she finishes though and pulls you towards her bed. Sitting you down she places herself behind you after grabbing a dry towel. She begins to dry your hair while letting you stay silent. Another thing you appreciated about her. She let you take your time.

"Seulgi..." Your voice croaks out as if you've aged several decades.

"Yes?" She stops drying off your hair, instead placing the towel down as she wraps her arms behind you and leans forward.

"They know." She doesn't say anything but her body is still for a minute. Afterwards she finishes drying off your hair, at least one of you can stay calm in this situation. That's what you need. "They told me to come back when I come to my senses."

"It's okay. Everything will be okay. We'll figure something out." You let her guide you down on her bed. Your crying had stopped a while back, but the shock coursing through your body didn't. As Seulgi pulled up the sheets and began to hold you you turned around and looked at her. You looked into the eyes that told you everything. Right now they told you that all Seulgi had on her mind was you.

So you think that you should only think of Seulgi too, because you can always forget about the consequences when you're with her. With a kiss on your forehead she tells you to sleep. She gets impossibly closer to you, holding you tight. Holding you as if you are her treasure.

The familiar trees and houses enter your view as you drive down your childhood neighborhood. Your fingers tap on the steering wheel as you listen to the song Seulgi played in the car. Out of the corner of your eye you see her smile at the thought of visiting her parents. It's enough to make you happy as well.

As you near her parent's house you pass by your own. It's been years since you've been inside, years since you even saw it. You're okay with it though, but your mind still wonders how your parents are doing. You wonder if the house is lonelier now, if they ever think about the sparse letters and phone calls you have exchanged and how they always were fights. Do they know you and Seulgi are coming to visit? Will they want to see you?

Whatever the answer is it doesn't matter. The only family you have to worry about is the girl right next to you and her parents. You feel thankful that she's your first love and hopeful that she's your last. Despite how many times your lives have separated you two, how you both dated other people and had your own quarrels, you guys came back to each other in the end. She changed you during your formative years and supported you as the two of you have grown up.

No one else can make you uncover these sides and feelings like she does.

#seulgi x reader #rv seulgi #kang seulgi #red velvet x reader #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #gg imagines #gg scenarios

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supernovafics · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇

pairing: dylan o’brien x best friend fem!reader

summary: in which dylan has been your best friend for as long as you could remember. your busy lives and schedules may have pushed both of your lives in vastly different directions as you’d gotten older, but somehow you two would always be led back to your hometown, and each other, during the holidays. however, one moment causes all of that to change.

warnings: angst (what else is new), some fluffiness, mentions of past trauma (the maze runner incident), existential crises, explicit language

word count: 3.6k words

author’s note: idk why i decided to write something christmas related in the summer but it happened lmao (also i feel like it’s slightly important to mention that this takes place in 2016)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The rocks being thrown at your window were not what woke you up. Instead, you had been lying awake for hours; getting little to no sleep was something that you had become used to at this point.

However, on this specific night— or morning, depending on how one looked at it— you were glad that your sleep had been restless once again because it made it easy for you to get out of bed and walk to your window when the rocks began hitting it.

There was really no need for you to push open the curtains and check who was doing the throwing because, of course, it was Dylan. Ever since he moved onto your street in Hermosa Beach in middle school and the two of you easily became friends, he was the only person that would ever wake you up in the middle of the night with the soft pings of rocks, especially on this specific day at this specific time.

You waved at him and gestured that you would be down in a moment. You slipped on a random pair of sweatpants along with a hoodie and then placed the Christmas gift that you bought for him in the pocket. The item was small enough to fit in the not too big pocket of your hoodie; however, it did awkwardly protrude a bit.

All of this was a sort of unspoken tradition that the pair of you had developed over the many years you’d known each other. Meeting at five in the morning on Christmas day, walking to the beach that was only a few blocks away from your respective childhood homes, and exchanging Christmas gifts with each other as you both watched the sunrise. It started when you were in ninth grade, and you hadn't missed a year since, not even when the ending of high school pushed your lives in vastly different directions, especially since Dylan graduated a year before you and was almost immediately thrust into his acting career.

But, it didn't matter that Dylan's career took off, and you eventually decided to go to college in Santa Barbara, because, no matter what, you both would always come back for the holidays.

When you opened your front door and saw Dylan lingering by the sidewalk no more than ten feet away, you were quick to go toward him and pull him in for a tight embrace. It actually hadn't been too long since you’d last seen him, maybe only five or six months, but for some reason, it still felt as if the last time he was in front of you was last December.

"Hey," Dylan breathed out in a short greeting, his arms wounding around your waist.

“Hey to you too," You responded, a small smile gracing your features when you both pulled away, and you looked up at him. "How have you been?"

It was quiet for a few moments as you waited for him to answer the question, but eventually, you were met with no verbal response, and instead, Dylan simply shrugged. The short action made your heart constrict in the most painful way, and it was then that you noticed the light remnants of a scar peeking out from behind his dark hair that covered the majority of his forehead. You were quick to peel your eyes away from the scar and instead cast them down at your Converse-covered feet, but that didn't stop the memories from quickly coming back.

The Maze Runner accident had happened back in March, but to you, and you knew to Dylan as well, it felt as if it was just yesterday, especially considering the fact that he was still dealing with the unavoidable repercussions from it.

"Wanna walk?" You asked, finally looking up at him once again.

Dylan nodded. "Yeah."

A silence that could only be deemed as comfortable lingered between them as the two of you took the five-minute walk to the beach and sat down side by side on one of the random empty benches.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Dylan said as he handed a present over to you. The present was messily wrapped, something that was not at all uncommon when receiving gifts from Dylan, and the sight of it made you smile.

Before you unwrapped the gift, you pulled out the one you had for him and handed it over. "Merry Christmas, Dyl."

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A simultaneous shocked and happy yelp emitted from your lips when you held up a Harry Potter t-shirt. But, it wasn't just any Harry Potter t-shirt; it was one with a version of the Goblet of Fire movie poster on it, which was your all-time favorite movie in the series.

"Holy shit."

"It's the original merch that was sold when the movie came out," Dylan told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the green bow placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at Dylan and then back down at the shirt as you processed his words. "Wow, double holy shit. I would put it on if it wasn't freezing right now."

Dylan laughed a bit. "Very understandable."

“Why haven't you opened yours yet? I'm dying to see what you think of it," You said. You were now holding the t-shirt to your chest, genuinely feeling like a little kid on Christmas morning again.

Dylan finally began unwrapping your gift to him, and when all of the paper was peeled off, there was a square box. "Aw, a plain white box. Thank you so much. This is what I've always wanted."

You rolled your eyes and playfully bumped him with your shoulder. "Ha ha. Please save all of these bad jokes for your stand-up act; I can't wait to boo you off the stage along with everyone else."

"So, what I'm hearing is you don't think that becoming a comedian is going to be the next best career move for me?" Dylan asked. He attempted to make the question sound as serious as possible, but there was a joking undertone to his words.

You bit back your laughter. "Please just open the box already so I don't have to hurt your feelings by truthfully answering that question."

"Okay, we'll circle back to that topic later," Dylan smiled and then finally opened the white box to reveal a slightly faded baseball. When he picked it up, he ran his thumb over the black signature written on it. "Now it's my turn to say holy shit."

You could feel yourself smiling at his awestruck reaction, and you wondered if that was what you looked like when you saw the Harry Potter shirt. The baseball was signed by one of the players of the New York Mets that had been Dylan's favorite player when he was younger, and he'd even caught a ball hit by him when he went to a game before he moved to California.

"I've had this idea for years, but I could never find a baseball signed by him," You began explaining, the excitement clear in your voice. "But, last month, someone named Paul Todd posted this on eBay and I immediately bought it. God bless that old man. It's completely authentic and everything."

Dylan was quiet for a few moments as he simply looked at the baseball in his hands, a small joyful smile on his face, and it made you happy to see him so genuinely elated with the present.

"This just made my gift look like shit," He finally said, a light laugh falling from his lips.

"I have always been the superior gift giver. I think that's my hidden talent," You responded with a playful smirk.

Dylan placed the baseball back in its box and then looked at you. "Next year you will receive the best gift ever from me. It will completely top everything that you have ever given me."

"You're saying that as if I should feel upset about receiving a trip to Italy as a Christmas gift."

"A trip to Italy?"

"In my strong opinion, that would be the best gift ever," You said with a smile and then looked down at the t-shirt, which was now in your lap. "But, anyway, I don't think this gift is shit. I'm in love with this shirt already."

Dylan let out a joking, overexaggerated sigh in relief. "Phew, okay, since you think this gift is great, that means I don't have to do the trip to Italy next year."

"What? Did I say I like this t-shirt? I hate it! Harry Potter actually su— Fuck, I can't say this with a straight face," You laughed, and Dylan was quick to join in with you.

The joking statements leading up to the laughter hadn't even been the funniest things ever, but it didn't matter because this was probably the hardest you had laughed in a while, and you were both glad and unsurprised that it was with one of your favorite people in the entire world.

You missed joking around and laughing with him. You missed simply being with him.

Eventually, the laughter died off, but there was still a smile planted firmly on your face. You looked ahead at the darkness in front of you and the ocean that looked completely black; it was still kind of early, so the sun hadn't begun to rise just yet. Your back pressed against the wooden bench, and you let out a small sigh, your head finding Dylan's shoulder as you leaned against him.

"How have you been?" You asked him, your words coming out both soft and slightly quiet, and before the mood became too serious with your question that was nothing but serious, you attempted to lighten it. "And please no shrugs as a response this time. I don't wanna get a headache due to my head bouncing off your shoulder."

Dylan let out a breath of a laugh at your final statements but refrained from answering the question for a few moments.

After what felt like forever, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I honestly don't know. My mind has felt so fucked lately, thinking about everything. I swear I've been feeling every feeling known to man these past months."

"What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

"I'm really happy with you. This is probably the only normal and familiar thing I've experienced in a while. But, of course, there's still that confused feeling in the back of my mind revolving around everything else." He paused for a brief moment before continuing, his next words came out quieter. "I don't even know if I want to go back to acting."

You lifted your head off his shoulder and looked at him as you pulled his hand into yours and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze.

"No matter what you decide. I'll be right there to support you," You told him and then added a "bro" at the end of her sentence along with a small smile. Whenever things became too deep in a conversation you two were having, one of you would always throw a "bro" or "dude" in there to bring some playfulness to the mood.

The corners of Dylan's perked up a bit. "So, you'll support me when I decide to become a comedian?"

You were unable to stifle your light laughter. "Yes, fine, fuck it. I'll be the loudest one laughing at all of your shows."

Dylan squeezed your hand back because he knew exactly how reluctantly true your words were. "Don't worry, I promise not to put you through that."

"Thank you."

"So, how have you been?"

"No."

"Oh, come on," Dylan said as he playfully poked your side. "I'm not gonna be the only one exposing my feelings."

You sighed and then hesitantly nodded. "Okay, okay."

The truth was you had been far from good lately. Your life was moving, but for some reason, you felt like you weren’t moving with it.

You felt stuck.

Stuck in a confusing mindset where you had absolutely no idea what you wanted to do with your life. You thought that identity crises usually happened in high school, but apparently, yours had come five years late. But, you knew that this delayed identity crisis had been your own doing because you had convinced herself that you would figure everything out once you were in college; and you were both lucky and smart enough to receive a full ride to UCSB.

And although you were finishing up your Master's degree in Creative Writing and had a TA job at the university with the department, which was the reason behind why you could even pay for the Master's program, something in your "should be great" life simply did not feel right.

However, you felt absolutely terrified to say any of that out loud because admitting it would only finally make that statement a wholehearted truth, instead of just a spiraling thought in your mind. And even though Dylan was your best friend and you knew you could tell him anything and not receive any sort of judgment, it still felt hard to let the words leave your lips.

You thought about the way to perfectly word everything, but nothing felt right. You pulled your hand away from Dylan's and covered your face as you let out an exasperated breath. "I can't figure how to say it all."

Dylan placed an arm around you and then mimicked the same question you had asked him not too long ago. "What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

You would have both laughed and smiled at the fact that he was using your exact words if the current circumstances were different.

"Scared," You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what the fuck I wanna do anymore, and actually, I don't think I really ever did. I only went to college because of the scholarship, and I convinced myself that I would figure my life out when I got there. And for a while, things felt right because I found creative writing and genuinely enjoyed it, but something doesn't feel right anymore. And I actually do like school. Because it's stable, and I am doing things, even if it's taking a dumbass test. But, it's about to be over soon, and I have no idea what I'm gonna do."

Your words were coming out like vomit, and nothing could stop it because finally, everything you had been feeling for so long was out of your head and put into the open.

"And don't get me wrong, I do love to write, but I don't know, I just can't see myself doing it for the rest of my life," You admitted and then let your next words come out quietly. "Honestly, I can't see myself doing anything. I'm so unhappy here."

You did not say it aloud, but you didn't think you were ever fully content there. Aside from Dylan and your parents, you never truly liked California. You had grown up there all your life, and although there were millions of people that adored the state, you felt the exact way someone from a state like Wyoming probably felt.

Dylan did not verbally respond to your long confession at first; instead, he simply pulled your confused and stressed self in for a hug, and you let out the simultaneous sigh and breath that you had been metaphorically holding in for years at this point.

"Maybe you should take a break," Dylan finally said; his arms were still around you, an action that made you feel completely comforted. "Right after high school, you went straight to college, and I don't think you've ever really taken a break to really think about what you actually want. Like, maybe, it's becoming a zookeeper."

Your laugh was slightly muffled by the fact that your face was pressed into the warmth of Dylan's chest. "Zookeeper?"

"I don't know," He laughed too. "You said you would support me in whatever the fuck I decide to do, and I'll do the exact same for you."

Somehow a smile found its way on your face. "A zookeeper and a comedian. What a fucking dream team."

Another laugh fell from Dylan's lips. "The best fucking dream team."

"But, honestly, I wish I could've known sooner that this is how you've been feeling. I would've been telling you to slow down so long ago, but you seemed content with everything," Dylan told you and gave you another light squeeze. "Please take a break and don't stress yourself out over the future when your next semester is over. Just relax for the first time. You can even come stay with me in LA for a little bit if that's where you wanna take your break. I'll be here for you, Y/N. Always."

Something about his words hit you hard. The wholehearted honesty and sincerity behind his statement shouldn't have surprised you, but it did. And the worry he had for you resembled the same concern you had for him when the accident happened. You two were best friends, so it should not have been a shock that you would worry about each other, but still, in that moment and for you, it was shocking because it felt like so much more than just that.

"Me too," You whispered, finally responding to his previous statement.

The long embrace came to an end with you being the one to pull away; however, you did not pull away far enough for you both to become completely detached from one another. Dylan's arms were still around your waist, and yours were still around the nape of his neck, and your faces were dangerously close. Your hand somehow took on a mind of its own as it reached around and cupped Dylan's cheek. The miniscule confusion and tickle of panic that began to prick at the back of your mind because of the action were not enough to make you pull away.

The slight way that Dylan leaned into your soft touch was the catalyst for you to take the leap and lean in the tiniest bit to close the small distance between the two of you, your lips almost too easily finding his. The inward sigh of contentment you emitted when Dylan almost immediately kissed you back made you realize that kissing him was the one thing currently happening in your life that actually felt right.

Later, when thinking back to that specific moment, you would wonder if that "rightness" had always been there between you both.

However, that right feeling, which was both comfortable and familiar, was quickly replaced with dread and angst, at least on your part. Your mind was beginning to fully catch up with your actions, and it immediately told you that the current action was both bad and stupid, and there were many, many reasons that proved that.

Maybe there were moments where a younger, and even present-day, you did want more to happen between you and Dylan, but you would always push that thought away because you knew that your and Dylan's friendship was so much more valuable.

And then it was the fact that your lives were nothing alike. Even though you were immensely confused about where your life was going, you could say for certain that it wasn't going in the same direction as Dylan's; an acting career that he genuinely loved and enjoyed too much to truly give up. Something deep down told you that, and you could feel the truthfulness behind the thought. The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect.

You abruptly pulled away, not just from the kiss but from Dylan's body entirely, moving to the edge of the bench you were on. Your hands covered your face in nothing but pure embarrassment and regret, and you wished that you could take back the last minute and a half of your life. And you also absolutely hated that you couldn't help but notice how much colder your body felt now that it was away from Dylan's.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. Fuck. That kiss— it was a mistake. I'm really sorry." Your words came out rushed and fumbled, and it probably did not make much sense, but you just hoped that there was at least a little bit of coherency with them.

As much as you wanted to look at Dylan, you refused to do so because you knew that you would only see the regret you were feeling written clear across his face.

"Hey, it's okay, Y/N. Everything's fine. Don't worry," You heard him say but could hear the uncertainty in his voice as if he really didn't know if everything truly was fine. And you knew that it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect, and you had just completely ruined that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts <3

((((already potentially thinking about doing a part 2 to this….. but idk…))))

#dylan o’brien #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien x y/n #dylan o'brien x fem!reader #dylan o'brien gifs

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limenysnocket · 3 years

Text

Salsa Lessons

Summary: Let's take a break... to go on vacation. Since Taika is a snowflake and can't handle the cold, take a trip down south to Puerto Rico!

Pairing: Taika Waititi x Reader

Warnings: SMUT-- oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, dom Taika, a little bit of degradation, swearing, alcohol, (slight) public sex. 18+ ;)

A/N: One last baecation before I disappear again, and I know this'll be good. I KNOW THIS IS LATE. Like... late LATE. Forgive me.

@honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl @whatwememeintheshadows @mrtommyshelby @dandywaititi

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"MY FACE IS ON FIRE!" Taika was panting and fanning his burning cheeks. The moms running the stand you both went to were cackling at him.

It had been a day since you both landed in Puerto Rico, and after sleeping off the jet lag and trying some of the fine dining, the first thing to do was explore the city, San Juan, from start to finish. Coincidentally, you both walked right into the outdoor market area, where fresh produce was being bought and sold everywhere. That's when Taika, the jackass, got ballsy and decided to try a pepper from one of the stands. He had been warned.

Oh well... guess you can see how that went.

To make up for the commotion caused, you bought a pineapple and a papaya from the same stand, as well as a couple of exquisitely bottled cokes. Taika was consoled, given a bit of coconut milk, and sent right back down the boardwalk. That was the first and last time he tried a freebie from a pepper stand. He was complaining about how his tongue felt (you would have thought that might make him get a little quieter and talk less), and he didn't stop until half of his bottled soda was gone. He sort of forgot about the pain after that and started looking for souvenirs.

You began your walk with him at eight in the morning, sharp. It was near noon by the time you were finished, and Taika had two big bags of fruits and veggies, exotic jewelry, tour maps, and trinkets. You were starving, and, more than once, tried to steal a kiwi from his bags but he would always manage to catch you and slap your hand away.

"They're for later!" He'd say that or make up a different excuse each time.

Taika wasn't neglectful of your hunger, in the end. He took you to a nearby restaurant after doing some searching on his phone and dropping the bags off back at the hotel room.

The restaurant was quaint, but vibrant at the same time. There were colors, dancers, and live music played on a little wooden stage just meters away. Ordering was fine, but it took some time for Taika.

"I've never seen so many things with pineapple in it! And it's not pizza, so it's bound to be good!" He seemed so excited for the food. It made you happy, but you eventually had to pick for him since the waiter was getting tired of actually having to wait.

"I have something special planned for tonight!" Taika exclaimed, the alcoholic drink of his choice being waved around in his hand. You were already reaching for the napkins, afraid he was going to spill something.

So now he tells you...

"Should I be concerned?" your first question came out with ease.

"Honey, if it's anything with me, you should always be concerned," he was smug, but the look on your face told him he needed to fix his wording. "BUT! Uhm... No, no you shouldn't be concerned about where I'm taking you. It's going to be a blast, I promise!"

"Better not be lying, Taik," you warned, and he just started to grin. That made you nervous, but you put the feeling on hold when the food came out.

Two bowls of Asopao de Pollo were placed in front of you and Taika, and they were devoured briefly in the span of thirty minutes. Extra time was added because Taika decided to add hot sauce to his. 'It's to add a kick,' he said. Yeah, whatever.

The rest of the afternoon was spent snacking, and checking out the more historical side of Puerto Rico. Abandoned forts, old canons, battle fields, you name it. It was truly a blast, even when Taika became cocky around one of the forts you visited.

It was at the Sitio Histórico de San Juan when things got... touchy. You were with a group of people, and you and Taika decided to linger around the back so if something interesting was spotted, you wouldn't have to move immediately. Little did you know, Taika was devising a, "ditch the tour guide and go make out somewhere," kind of plan.

Much to your demise, and to your pleasure, the plan worked. The tour guide hardly noticed the two of you disappear down an unknown corridor and push yourselves deep into a dark corner.

The smell was wet, ancient, and dank. Taika had you pressed up against one of the concrete walls while his hands worked their magic, lifting up the hem of your shirt and immediately grasping for your bra. You let him squeeze and grip through the fabric of it and press his body so close to yours, the waistband of his shorts was rubbing a red line across the skin of your stomach.

Your legs trembled while you completely forgot about the tour itself and your fingers started to run through his curly hair. Taika's thigh was moving to be between both of yours and he started to slowly rub the top of his against your clothed cunt. Slowly. Achingly slow.

Whimpers of his name and the sound of your tongue mixing echoed along the dank walls, and whimpers turned to moans, and moans turned into garbled sentences when his hand sunk into your underwear and sought out your clit. You tried to warn him, this was a bad idea. You could be noticed missing from the group and people could come looking for you. There could be papz right around the corner, needing a good look for a filthy headline. He didn't stop, though. He started rubbing faster, playing with you like you were some toy.

You knew he wouldn't give you anything but his fingers. Yet. Taika waited and waited, getting you closer on just clit stimulation, but just as you reached your brink, he started to pull his hand away. Dazed and confused, you looked up, your chest shaking from all the heavy breathing you had been doing. Your hands were grasping at his shirt, damn near begging to have just the tiniest bit more, but the look on his face said it all. Even through the darkness of the corridor.

"What the fuck, dude? I was so close!" You hissed at him. All he did was click his tongue and say:

"That's for later too."

The rest of the tour was dreadful to you. It was long, and hot, and dank while you found your way back to the group. Taika was nonchalantly following just a ways behind you while you consistently traveled in circles or down a corridor and through the next. As if he knew you were getting yourself lost, he eventually stepped in, and lead you back towards the entrance of the fort, where your tour group had huddled together for the last destination and for the tour guide to say goodbye. Oh well, at least you got to take in some historical views.

After one more cramped trolley ride back to the hotel later, you were utterly exhausted, but you knew your night wasn't over yet. Taika still had something planned, and it must have been on the spot this morning too. If he had planned it any further back, he would have blabbed it all out to you by now. You laid on your bed while you could, right on your stomach with your face buried into the pillow, trying to let your heavy eyes fall closed for a second, but the moment you did, you felt a large hand smack you right on the ass.

You flipped over, mad as a hornet when you looked up at Taika. You hadn't heard him come out of the bathroom.

He had dressed himself up in all black. Black button up, tucked into his black pants and pressed firm with a black belt. He looked like one of those pit musicians you'd see when you go to really good musicals with live orchestras.

"Dirty Dancing cosplay, ooor?" you nipped at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Ha ha, you're funny," the sarcasm dripped from him. He then threw a piece of (also black) clothing on. "Put that on."

The reluctance was real, but you followed his orders anyway, grumbling and griping your way through. Turns out it was a dress. A short one, at that, only going down to be just half way down your thighs, but it was comfortable enough. Luckily you had a pair of flats with a slight heel in your bag to pair with it. You had no idea where you were going with him, but you were not about to walk there in heels.

Taika was giving you "the eyes" as you walked out of the bathroom, admittedly messing with the hem of your dress to try and bring it down lower. As a result, came more cleavage that you would have liked, but oh well. At least Taika enjoyed the view.

He took the grocery bags in his hands and in the crook of his arms, and like that, it was time to go.

"We'll be late if we don't rush!" he hurried you. You knew that was just a big fat lie, and he was excited to get to wherever you were going, but you played along for as long as you could.

Taika made you go down the boardwalk again, through flourishes of people while the bags in his arms still jostled from side to side. Eventually, you stopped, just outside of a well lit building, and he took you inside.

He stepped up to a desk, signed something, and set all of the groceries down on the desk. While he did those things, you had a look around. To your left, deeper into the building and with dimmer lighting, there were tables and chairs set up. Almost all of the tables were meant for two, or for four. Before you could investigate further, Taika was back to leading you around, through a few more doors, which opened up to a big ballroom.

A few more people were waiting there, dressed almost in the same fashion as you or even a bit more flamboyantly, and obviously coupled up. Taika wrapped his arm around your waist and made you jolt.

"Care to dance?" he mused quietly and you gulped. You've got to be fucking kidding.

"You're joking," you murmured, but he wasn't, because he took you right over to the group of other couples and started conversing with them while you started to freak out quietly.

Honestly, you had never been the greatest dancer on earth. Sure, you could cut a rug from time to time, but that was in the privacy of your own home or at Taika's place if he happened to pick out a really good song worth dancing to. You knew Taika loved to see you dance, he loved to dance with you most of all, but you both never got into anything fancy.

Now was the time.

Soon, your instructors announced themselves, and the room fell mute while they introduced themselves in their very heavy Spanish accents. You stuck to Taika's side most of the time, even as the mood was set and stone. You would be learning to salsa dance. But what did this have to do with the food? You'd find out later.

To put it simply, things got... touchy. Of course, the one and only Waititi was the one touching you, wrapping his big, strong hands around your hips and making them sway back and forth, but it was personal at some point. His hips were pushed against yours most of the time, and that awakened a more primal sense.

Once the dance had been established, the lavish music and the glow of sweat and cologne heightened your senses, and the lights began to dim or flash with lavish pinks, purples, reds, yellows, and greens. You got lost in the feeling as Taika set his hands on your hips again, his warm palms making your legs ache to feel his skin touch yours. Your back was against his chest while the footwork got complicated. Focused, yet mystical.

All the couples around you, doing the same moves as you, turned to blurry blobs, and your breathing got heavier as the pace of the music piece got faster and faster. Taika's breath drew across your ear, and made you shudder. It nearly knocked you out of focus, because you bumped your hips backwards, and pushed your ass against his hips. Like a chain reaction, you felt his hands squeeze your hips a little more than he was supposed to. So, you bumped your hips back against his again, and suddenly you were whipped around by his hands, and pulled flat against his chest.

The bodies around you still writhed and moved with beauty and grace, then there was you and Taika... in the very middle of the dancefloor while a small hard on pressed against the side of your thigh. He was looking down at you, and through the darkness, just like in the corridor, you could see his expression. It was a look of want. Need.

Before anything could be done, however, the lights flashed back on, and the song had finished. Only you and Taika were out of position. The instructors paid no mind. They just clapped, as well as everyone else. Taika removed his hands from you, but made sure you were close enough to hide the little bump in his pants. You hoped there was nothing other than this, because now you really wanted to get back to the hotel room.

The couples started filing out of the room, back to where the tables and chairs were, and Taika kept you in front of him the entire time, pressed almost a little too closely to him.

"Mr. Waititi," a waitress called to him from the kitchen as you met the front desk again. "Your food has been prepared."

Taika looked at the waitress, then to you. He was debating something. You knew what, but you'd let him figure this out for himself. He was the one with the more visible problem.

"Awesome," Taika sighed, then looked down at you. "Join me for a bite real fast?" He said it through almost gritted teeth. Reluctantly... you agreed.

If it was worth it, that's for you to decide. This place had taken the groceries you bought, fruits and veggies, and made a beautiful dinner with mango kiwi sangria. With the time the lessons had taken, the chefs in the kitchen had made the perfect meal. They had even thrown in a few extra elements like chorizo and perfectly cooked rice dishes. As much as you loved the food, you couldn't forget about the need between your legs. And it was obvious Taika couldnt simply forget about his.

You would watch him squirm in his seat while he sipped on his drink, or you would find him staring at you a little more than usual, and little more intensely with each second. His eyes would gloss over, and his breathing would slow, but he'd snap out of it, only when you said something to him, or a server came out of nowhere to check on both of your meals.

Even if the dinner wasn't as romantic (although more sexually charged than you expected), you still had a fantastic time. As soon as Taika finished his dish, he paid the check and was quick to dash out the door with you at his side. Sure, you managed to have enough time to pack up what was left of your food for later, but that hardly deterred Taika's speed and agility.

The walk back to the hotel room went by faster than you thought. The crowds had started to dwindle, and lights began to dim, because all of the shops and side markets had finally closed down after a long day of work. There was just enough darkness to cover the fact that Taika had his hands all over you. All the way to your room.

The moment you touch the door handle, the frenzy began.

He closed the door with his foot, and with both hands, he grabbed your hips and slammed you against the nearest wall he could find. His lips breathed over yours, whispering dirty praises and hot needs, and his hands reached down to pull up your dress to bunch it around your waist. His hand reached between your thighs, and cupped your wet panties, just over your folds. He started to stroke it, while his lips teased over yours, never kissing you, but needing you.

His strong fingers prodded through the fabric, seeking and searching like he had done with you in the corridor of the filthy base. Filthy actions in filthy places.

You moaned for him, but he seemed busy. He continued to bunch up your dress until your stomach was exposed to him. His parched lips drug themselves down your collarbone, again, avoiding your lips, while your hand shot up into his curly hair.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered, opening his dirty mouth just to use his teeth on you. He bit down on your skin, making a hiss seethe from you through your clenched jaw. "You're so fucking beautiful... making my dick so fucking hard."

You watched him kneel, the position making his pants crumple up, but the bulge in his black pants remained as prominent as ever. His nose brushed over your stomach, and you could feel his tongue prop out softly and hover over the hem of your underwear, just as well as his teeth hooking into them. Your thighs spread on their own, and he started to pull your underwear downwards.

He could see the glisten on your clit and the need drip down your thighs. His tongue poked out again, and you felt it slide across your inner thigh. It crept higher and higher,

He placed sloppy kisses along the soft flesh. The kind of kiss that you could hear. The smack and the pop from the wetness and eagerness to taste more of you and take more of you in. He needed that, and he only got more of it as he neared your core.

"Such a wet fuckin pussy, baby," he groaned and placed his tongue along the lips of your folds. His tongue drug itself along the slit, and dipped in to be right on your aching clit. He swiped his tongue back down, pushing it along your hole. Your legs began to tremble, and he began to dig in like the meal you had gotten at the restaurant only whet his appetite.

He took you seriously this time. The rough pads of his finger nimbly drifting along your hips, tracing every mark, every bump, and every hair, because he wanted to memorize this feeling. He also wanted you to remember these exact moments, when he ate your pussy out on the exotic islands of Puerto Rico.

You gripped his hair so tight, but that only pushed him further into your cunt. His nose swiped along, to add flavor to the sensation. His face, most certainly, would be dripping with you by the end of the night.

How long this went on for? You didn't know. You also didn't know it his goal was to disturb your neighbors, because you got pretty fucking for him at some point. He didn't stop until he was satisfied, and you didn't bother keeping track of how many times you had cum on his tongue. You knew he loved the taste. He loved your taste.

Eventually, you both made it back to the bed for once, after one or two earth shattering orgasms. Thighs shaking, breaths colliding, and tongues twisting. His lips touched yours and your mouth was immediately drenched in your own taste, mixed with his.

He got you out of your dress. You stripped him of his clothes. Skin met skin, and it was an instantaneous bon fire of pure, raw sex.

His hand met your throat and he pushed you against the bed while he sat between your legs, unconsciously rubbing his dick through your folds. His lips were on yours again, and he gave your throat a gentle squeeze from time to time.

"Fuck, Taik, just put it in me," you breathed desperately, and the air grew thick. Your eyes never met his. You just watched the way his hips rolled into you, and took the time to feel his scratchy hair rub against your belly each time. You were addicted.

"You're so soft..." His large hands trailed down your stomach, "I'd rather just play with you and see what would happen if I teased you some more." His snickering and plotting drew a whine from you. It sounded so pitiful, he knew you were on the edge already.

"Aw, pretty girl?" He clicked his tongue in a fake sympathetic way, "You don't like to play games, do you? That's such a shame... I thought fuck dolls loved to be played with."

"Taika," you whined again, and you started to wriggle beneath him.

Taika didn't usually mind it when you wiggled about, but something about tonight, it really pissed him off a small bit.

"You want it?" He hissed. "Fucking fine."

You nearly screamed so loud, the hotel walls would have shook, but he shoved himself in, with hardly any warning, and slapped a hand over your mouth.

"You're such a loudmouth... just shut up and take it," he muttered by your ear, and his hips wasted no time making a fool out of you. While one of his hands stayed over your mouth, the other was planted by your head, almost threateningly, and he gripped the bedsheets. If you had just turned your head a little bit, you would have seen the veins popping on his wrist.

Taika pressed his thumb right on the high of your cheekbone, keeping your mouth clamped shut harder as he lost himself in you. Fuck it, you were gone too. High as a kite as he pummeled you and fucked you up something awful.

He was making your sore already, with the intense clap of his hips that never seemed to slow. He was persistent. He was determined.

You let yourself cum for him way too many times that night, and he knew it. He would watch your eyes roll back, and the way your body would weakly tense each time, like you were recieving an electric shock to the brain. And he kept going. He kept going for a long time.

You just let him use you as the night went on, and the look of satisfaction grew more intensely each time you spilled over. It went on and on and on... until he suddenly just couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh my God," he panted, finally letting you speak out and be more vocal, but he had knocked all the breath from your lungs, so there was nothing you could say. "You're so fucking tight... so fuckin pretty, holy shit."

Taika's head rocked back and his eyes watched the ceiling. Shit. He was starting to give out. Shit, shit, shit.

He hunched back over, his thrusts becoming uneven with the ache of anxiousness and lust. It was a blissful, awful, horrible mix. Taika fucking loved it.

A grunt, a groan, and a brand new hickey to get him through it. He finally gave in, burying his face in the same shoulder he marked you on, kissing, lapping and nipping at your skin, as he came, and filled you up.

His body shook and quivered like an earthquake, and soon he felt much heavier on you. Exhaustion kicked in, and you felt like falling asleep right then and there.

You managed a hand to rub up and down his back, comfortingly, and he would let out the occasional groan in response.

"Do you have any more surprises I should be aware of?" you asked, voice hoarse and very very quiet.

"I might," Taika asked after a long pause of silence. "But those are for later..."

#fineanddandy1kchallenge #fineanddandy #taika waititi #fanfiction #taika waititi x reader #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi/you #taika waititi x you

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