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delimeful · 3 years

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(dont) take this the wrong way (6)

warnings: misunderstandings, trauma responses, illness

Patton and Roman went in circles for a moment on who should carry Logan, eventually settling on Patton, since Roman was the quicker between the two of them and they were alarmingly unsure of what the small mer was planning— or how negatively that plan would affect the little guy.

Roman couldn’t help but be a little jealous anyways at the sight of the human pressing his tiny face against the palm of Patton’s hand, still mostly unconscious despite the jostling. It was unfairly adorable, and he never got to hang out with humans that weren’t terrified or fled at the sight of him.

Logan had started off scared too, sure, but after they’d cleared that little misunderstanding up, the human had shooed him away with an itty bitty stern look.

He’d listened, of course, he certainly owed these two that much, but internally he was gleeful at how bold Logan was when hanging out with them. Maybe he’d even come back and they’d learn more of his language and he could needle the nerd into telling him more about surface life—!

But of course, that required that he get better first.

It seemed obvious now, with the feverflush to his skin and the subtle tremor even as he slept, but the signs were so tiny on him, they might not have noticed for ages yet. He was inordinately grateful that the little mer had brought it to their attention, even if it also meant learning just how lowly the little guy thought of them.

When they returned from the air room, the tiny mer hadn’t twitched from his spot, though he looked as though he wanted to vibrate right out of his skin.

Agonizingly, he only seemed to get more stressed at the sight of Patton’s cupped hands, gaze darting between them for a moment before he flitted forwards and pressed an earfin to the makeshift airseal, staying in place only long enough to catch the sound of Logan’s little raspy breaths.

Roman opened his mouth, arms sliding up to gesture, and the tiny mer shot all the way back across the room like quicksilver. He had a moment to realize that with that speed, they’d never have ‘caught’ him in the first place if he hadn’t been trapped by that net, and then he felt immensely guilty for clearly spooking the little guy.

“How about you lead the way?” he asked, trying to distract their flighty little friend before he started tearing hair out. “The exit is one cave down, we’ll follow to wherever you think is the best place.”

He was shaking his head before Roman even finished. “No, I’ll follow, you— whoever stole him, you have to take him back to that beach. You remember... right?”

Roman turned to glance at Patton, who nodded firmly. “I’ll get us started then, kiddo.”

He cradled his cupped hands to his chest and swam deeper, easily twisting through the exit tunnel into the open ocean. Roman nodded at the little mer and followed, hoping that the little guy wouldn’t just vanish.

Only a moment later, he flitted out after them, and Roman caught the desperate longing that crossed his expression for a moment at the sight of wide open terrain. It vanished after a single glance at Patton’s cargo, replaced by a grim scowl.

If it weren’t for the human, Roman had the feeling that the mer would have turned and vanished, too quick and small for them to ever see again.

Instead, he hovered carefully out of lunging reach as they traveled, watching their every move with narrowed eyes. Every unconscious twitch of Patton’s hands seemed to make him flinch in response, as though he was expecting something horrible would happen to the human at any moment.

Normally, Roman would have been quite offended about this implied slight against Patton’s character, since his friend was just about the gentlest guy he knew. With circumstances what they were, however, he remained silent. He knew that this wasn’t really a reflection on Patton, but rather someone else entirely, a phantom presence that was still haunting the small mer.

Roman let out a breath of relief when they finally resurfaced, a human beach visible nearby. Patton unfolded his hands as soon as they were above water, and they both peered nervously down at the human.

“He doesn’t look like he’s gotten any worse,” Patton murmured, angling his hands so their small tagalong could see as well. “This is fairly close to the beach I found him at!”

“It seems the early hour has served us well,” Roman added, making sure not to gesture as he usually would. “There doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Should we set him on the beach?”

The tiny mer jolted when he realized that they were both looking to him, flitting back and forth in nervous motions. “Uh, yeah— Yes. But be careful. And make sure you put him high enough that the tide can’t drag him back.” He continued in an undertone, “With his luck, it’ll be ages before another human appears.”

“I’ll do it!” Patton announced, already pushing forwards to shallower waters. “Roman’s likely to beach himself if he goes too far inland, and that’s shore to make things difficult!”

Roman groaned, flicking his fingertips at the siren. “That was one time! One-time incidents don’t qualify for pun-based bullying!”

Patton’s muffled laughter got quieter as he shifted to lay vertically, scooting forwards until his chest was scraping the sand and his arm could extend to set Logan gently against the beach incline. Logan’s head lolled to the side, but he seemed unlikely to go anywhere, and was in plain sight of anyone passing by.

Roman glanced down at the tiny mer, who was staring over the waves at the human, finally looking a little less stiff and stressed.

Patton wiggled back until he could tread water upright again, sharing a little cheer with Roman at a successful quest. Their guest’s tension returned immediately, that little shadowed gaze snapping back onto them.

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance, uncertain of how to proceed, but before anyone could speak, they heard a small, hacking cough.

Logan was awake, just a little too late for him or Patton to say goodbye. He probably wouldn’t have understood, but it would have been nice anyhow. Roman watched as he rolled to something resembling upright, his limbs trembling weakly. He was looking back and forth, not just noticing the new decor, but searching.

Roman glanced down to the small mer, who had set his shoulders and continued looking firmly away from the beach. He sunk a little lower in the water, trying to make eye contact. “Would you like to go and say goodbye before he leaves? Or, tell him what’s going on, perhaps?”

He shook his head once, sharply, and Roman felt a little pang of sympathy at the way his ear fins kept angling back at every noise the human made.

Logan was calling out now, the same word repeated at increasing levels of urgency. “Virgil?”

The mer still refused to glance back. “I’m not breaking the deal. You upheld your half, and you’re going to keep upholding it, and I’ll uphold mine. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’d drifted closer to Roman as he spoke, but it didn’t feel like any sort of progress. He’d tucked all those extra flares and frills away, smoothing himself down as though he was calm— or resigned.

Roman glanced up at the beach, where Logan still called. As he listened, that little voice cracked midword, desperation slowly turning to despair. He moved to cup his hand underneath the little mer, his heartstrings pulling at the way he let out a slow, shaky breath and closed his eyes, even as Roman lifted him up from the ocean entirely.

Patton opened his mouth as if to speak, but Roman met his eyes and shook his head, promising with his gaze alone that he knew what he was doing. His friend glanced down at the little guy worriedly, but held his tongue.

With one strong push, Roman slid up to the beach’s edge, grimacing slightly as the water became shallower and shallower. His arms were longer than Patton’s, though, and so he had little trouble reaching over and depositing his handful of seawater & tiny mermaid directly next to Logan.

“Virgil!” the human said, relieved, and he reached out to latch onto the mer, confirming Roman’s name suspicions.

‘Virgil’ had yelped like a baby seal upon being upended onto the beach, and he was now blinking between Roman and Logan with an air of extreme bewilderment.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, now in a very different tone. He wore a tiny, furious expression as he launched into what sounded like a somewhat-feverish lecture. He also reached over and pulled the mer into a hug, confirming Roman’s ‘he had no idea Virgil was going to pull this’ suspicions.

Roman was so right about so many things today. Everyone should listen to him all the time!

He wriggled back a little, intending to give them some privacy to talk, and made absolutely no progress. Uh oh. He glanced down at the others.

“I am just a little bit, slightly, somewhat, completely beached again,” he told them, his face growing hot. “I hope you two appreciate that I did this even though Patton is absolutely never going to let me live this down.”

“Need me to reel you back in, kiddo?” Patton called, right on cue. Roman sighed, planting his face in the crook of his elbow for a moment.

“Just a moment,” he called, and then met Virgil’s wide eyes from over Logan’s shoulder. “It seems like there’s still much for you both to discuss, my undersized acquaintances. We shouldn’t stay so close to land for long, but I imagine you’ll feel better if you keep him company until someone comes for him, right?”

Logan’s brief spark of energy seemed to be flagging, but every time Virgil attempted to disengage from the hug, he clung on tighter. After a brief moment of hesitation, Virgil conceded to the clinginess and simply nodded at Roman, still half-braced for something awful.

Roman gave him his most reassuring smile. “Then that’s what you’ll do. You know where to find me or Patton, if you need us!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, hands fisting in the back of Logan’s shirt. “You’ll let me-- you’ll leave us alone? Just like that?”

Roman nodded, lips twisted in sympathy. “Just like that.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, fins flattened against the sides of his head-- and then he took a deep breath, loosened his grip just slightly, and nodded back.

#dtttww #dont take this the wrong way #my writing #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #sanders sides #g/t #mermaid au #might edit this one later its a little short

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

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#HarringroveApril Day 12: Soda

***

Billie planned to up and ditch Hawkins at the exact moment she threw her cap in the air on graduation night. She had her bag already packed and ready to go, just waiting in the back seat of the Camaro in the school parking lot with enough clothes to last the multi-day drive from Indiana to the Pacific, and all of the cash she’d been saving since she was only fifteen years old because this had been her plan from there very start. Graduate, leave, never come back.

But there were two things she hadn’t considered. One, her original plan didn’t take into account the relocation across the country, which would require almost half of her funds. And two, the pretty brunette that sat beside her through the whole ceremony. The girl who wore sneakers every day and stumbled in her out-of-practice high heels as she walked across the stage to receive her diploma, the girl who nudged Billie’s knee with hers and giggled alongside her at Nancy’s salutatorian speech, the girl who looked at her for the first time since she’d wound up in the shithole with those big brown Bambi eyes and there wasn’t a tinge of hatred in them, just those big and bright eyes looking at her almost fondly and it was enough to make Billie melt on the spot and instead of driving toward to interstate like her plan entailed, she turned left down Cherry Lane and slept another fearful night in that bed because those eyes were like a teather.

She put in her application at the pool the next day. Might as well get a paycheck while hopelessly pining after the girl who made it clear the day that she met you that she wanted nothing to do with you.

But, despite all of that, Billie was definitely hoping that despite the rich girl having a pool of her own, maybe she’d come around for a dip at least once so she could see her in that itty bitty two-piece she had fantasies about.

Billie’s favorite part about Hawkins Community Pool had nothing to do with the water at all, Billie’s favorite part was the little tucked away vending machine behind the locker rooms that nobody seemed to know about. The one that still had leftover classic Coca-Cola from before the switchover to New Coke. That’s where Billie first saw Stevie adorning her little blue bikini that was more than her wildest dreams could have pictured, and that wasn’t even the half of it. Her hair was wet and sticking to her shoulder and there were little water droplets peppered all over her body alongside her moles, perfectly glistening in the sun making her look like she was sparkling.

And then she bent over to grab herself the bottle of Coke out of the machine and Billie had to refrain from staring at her ass as the bathing suit rode up and gave its little show to the world.

Billie awkwardly walked to the vending machine and pretended like her heart didn’t just stop for a second.

“Billie? I didn’t know you were still in town.” Stevie gave her a once over at the red one-piece suit with the Lifeguard logo on the front. “You work here?”

“Uh, yeah. My shift is just about to start.” Billie said, fiddling with the strap on her suit. “Figured I could use the extra cash.”

“So you’re still planning on going huh?”

She didn’t want to just say yes, not with the way Stevie was looking at her all hopeful for something else. “Only if nothing stops me.” she finally said.

Stevie gave her a half smile before patting her on the shoulder. “Well good luck out there.”

And before Billie could ask her what she meant by that, she was already around the corner and out of sight.

But Stevie came back just two days later. Same suit, different color, a bright red that matched her own lifeguard getup. And Billie had an aerial view from her lifeguard tower of Stevie laid out on a beach chair as she sipped from her bottle of cherry cola, and Billie got to watch her comfortably from behind her aviators and nobody had to know where her eyes were fixed, right on the image that looked like it was pulled straight out of Coca-Cola commercial.

They had talked again at the vending machine earlier, but it was still the same dry conversation as the first time. Billie stole a couple of looks for herself and then they talked about work or rumors about former classmates. And then like last time, Stevie walked away, and the cycle continues.

And it did become a cycle.

Every day Billie would go over to the soda machine before her shift would start and Stevie would always be right there, already reaching for her new bottle, preparing for their minimalist conversation and following it all up by Billie ogling her through the guise of her sunglasses while Stevie attempted to tan on that pale skin of hers.

This continued halfway into the summer to late July where the heat was cranked up as high as it could go and suddenly the pool started getting more and more crowded, and Stevie had burned one too many times in an attempt to get that sun kissed glow that her visits to the pool became less and less frequent.

But still, Billie would keep going to that vending machine every day and even wait around for several minutes hoping that maybe she was just running late.

But she never was.

And Billie was left to drink her bottle of Coke alone, and think about how if there even was a chance, she’d completely missed it.

Mid August hit and she had come back, wearing that same blue swimsuit she had on that first day at the pool and Billie had already put her two weeks in.

Billie was known for her confidence. The way she strode through the halls of the high school like she owned the place on her very first day. The way she turned down the entire football team saying she could do better, she appeared to ooze confidence. But talking to pretty girls, especially when trying to flirt, not one of her strong suits.

So she rushed over to the vending machine and put her plan into action before Stevie made it from the parking lot to the back of the building, where she would hopefully still go, and hopefully notice the note taped to the number pad.

Billie did like she said on the post-it. She waited by the pool until after closing when the sun was setting and the sizzling temperatures of the mid-day had settled to a comfortable eighty-five. She tried not to look at the clock, but she couldn’t help herself but stare as the seconds ticked away and nine-o’clock grew closer and closer and the familiar hum of the Beemer wasn’t heard over the sounds of crickets and crows flying overhead.

She was ready to leave as nine o’clock had finally hit, already pulling her feet from the water and throwing her zip up back on. She was just going to finish out her two weeks and high tail it out of there. Forget Hawkins. And try to forget Stevie.

But it’s hard to forget a person when they’re standing right in front of you.

Billie had turned around the second Steve had walked in, still in her bikini with a cardigan over it holding two bottles of coke from the vending machine.

Their vending machine.

“These were the last ones.” She said, handing one of the bottles over to Billie.

“Well that’s depressing.”

Stevie laughed. “Yeah, and fitting I guess.” Billie sighed and took a seat back down on the pool's edge and took a drink from the Coke bottle, and as much as she enjoyed the flavor of classic, she could really go for a beer right about now. Steve followed and sat right beside her, their knees touching, just like graduation night. “So you’re really leaving?”

“I put in my two weeks.” Billie drew circles in the water with her finger, watching it ripple instead of looking at her. “I take it you got my note?”

“Yeah.”

“So...?”

Stevie took her own swig from her bottle, pretending and hoping for the alcoholic placebo.

“You told me you’d go as long as nothing stopped you.”

“Are you gonna stop me?”

Stevie took Billie by the chin and made her look her in the eye. And once again she was caught in those deep brown eyes like they held the whole world. “If you’ll let me.”

Billie didn’t waste a second before closing the distance between them. Lips contacting with a soft but lust-filled force. She tasted just as sweet as Billie thought she would.

She tastes just like classic Coca-Cola.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #mandi writes tresh #ficlet #fem!harringrove #harringroveapril #harringrove april

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opbackgrounds · 4 years

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Hi there Sarc' ;) I am sorry if the question has already been asked but I thought it could be interesting to have your opinion about this. While I love most of the female characters in OP and think that most of them are well developed and can be truly good role models for girls I still feel that Oda sometimes has a sexist view on female characters (the jokes about the naked bath scenes for example or Kororo being considered ugly make me really uncomfortable). What do you think about it?

Ah, I wondered when I would get this question.

When people talk about sexism in One Piece they typically are referring to two different things: How women are drawn, and how they’re treated within the narrative. While there’s some overlap here, there’s enough distinction that I want to address them as two separate points in two separate posts, because I guess I had Opinions, and by god there should be a limit to how much text one tumblr post can be expected to hold. Consider this an introduction.

Buckle up, kiddos. This is gonna be a long one.

Nami Face Syndrome Isn’t the Problem...

An important thing to remember with Oda’s art and storytelling style is that almost everything is hyper exaggerated for effect. You don’t go into One Piece looking for realism. You don’t go into One Piece expecting the characters to act like normal people. Everything--from the art to the humor to the battles--is stretched and pulled to its absolute limit in hopes of garnering a particular reaction. When a character is sad they cry big bubbly tears with dribbles of snot coming from their nose. When they laugh their mouths take up half their face.

And when a girl is hot, her tiddies are two great big watermelons stuck to the center of her chest.

What is often dubbed “Nami Face Syndrome” within the fandom is somewhat misleading. After all, why was Wanda, who is a literal dog that walks on two legs, decried as yet another Nami clone at her introduction? I would postulate it’s less to do with her face and more to do with the fact that from the neck down they are virtually identical, something that’s made more obvious because Wanda is literally wearing Nami’s clothes

What makes this frustrating for a lot of people, myself included, is that it’s not that Oda is incapable of drawing more diverse body types, but that he often chooses not to. Take for example the Kuja tribe

or the Charlotte family daughters (thanks to Arthur at Library of Ohara for the resource). It’s pretty clear Oda has the chops to make his women as weird as the men, and he often does! For important characters, even. And yes, as the Kokoro example given above sometimes the gonkness is brought attention to, but for others like Lola and Chiffon it’s...not.

(more on mermaids later)

But Sarcasticles, one might protest, even Oda’s “ugly” characters have ginormous boobs! Where is my itty bitty titty committee representation >:(

To which I can only shrug. For Oda, boobs on a woman are like abs on men. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense, they’re gonna have ‘em

Seriously, Oda. What the fuck.

...So What Is?

I have a theory that’s impossible to prove, and that the problem isn’t so much Oda’s character design so much as the ratio of his male to female characters in general. It’s not that every female character is a Nami clone, but Oda has a template he uses for attractive female characters ages 16-25, the same way he uses Robin as a template for attractive women ages 26-35, which is how you get cases of mistaken identity like Viola for Robin or scenes during Reverie where one could be forgiven for thinking Nami’s supposed to be an identical triplet

Oda does this for his men, too. It’s not as obvious because 1) Even men with similar facial features can have a wider variety body types due to Oda having a sliding scale of buffness he’s willing to attach to a pretty face and 2) There are more men.

There are a lot more men.

In groups where the male to female ratio is more or less equal (Baroque Works, Big Mom’s kids) you get a wide variety of designs. But there’s only one female Supernova. There’s one female Warlord. CP9 only has one female agent. Only one of the Revolutionary Commanders is a woman. There are very few female background characters in crowd shots, especially among marines. Big Mom might be the only female Emperor, but she’s not young, In fact, when drawing her at age 28, Oda defaults to a much more generic “pretty girl” face before giving her much more striking, memorable features in her 40s

If you look at Oda’s male characters, the ones that are supposed to be hot are often given the same square jawline and the thin-bladed nose that at one point in time was reserved for Robin. Both Coby and Sabo had very distinctive noses before their glowups, while Ace must have had a laser treatment done on his eyebrows sometime between Alabasta and Marineford.

But the biggest difference on the men has got to be muscle mass. The overgrown noodles of early One Piece are lost to the annals of time. Shanks alone must have gained 30 pounds of pure muscle from the time Luffy got his first bounty to his appearance at Marineford.

Now, I will acknowledge that there is a difference between the increasing sexualization of female characters and the male power fantasy of giving Zoro bara tiddies post-timeskip. While I do think there are certain male characters specifically designed to be the Hot Dude, what I’m trying to emphasize here is that Oda works with templates for both men and women, and both of those templates have been exaggerated over time. Bigger boobs for women, more muscles for men. And when you’re only slotting for one girl in any given group, and that one girl has to be The Hot One then you’re going to have a lot of ladies that end up looking the same.

My love for Otohime on this blog is well known, and I want to use her as an example of what Oda can do when he works beyond this template, because it’s really freaking good

Otohime is neither conventionally attractive nor gonk. She’s dressed in very conservative, traditional clothing and has a narrow waist and small chest.

There are no sharp edges on Otohime. Not her eyebrows, not her jaw, and most of the time not even her hands, emphasizing her gentle nature. You don’t see it as well in this panel, but Otohime’s head is often drawn wider than her shoulders, emphasizing her frailty. Oda gives her a longer neck to compensate, and the overall effect is a very soft, willowy figure.

Her headpiece looks like a sunburst. The audience never sees her fins, so Oda gives her a scale patterned kimono-dress-thingy (my knowledge of Japanese clothing is, uh, not good) as a visual reminder that she’s not human. The sash that circles around her head harkens back to Japanese mythology as a symbol of divinity, similar to a halo in Western culture. And fun fact: Otohime is named after a god, just like Neptune, while her goals and ideals are pure enough to be heaven-sent.

I’m not an artist, but this is a really damn good character design. A lot of Oda’s older female characters are. Dandan, Tsuru, O-Tsuru, Shakky, Kureha, Big Mom, and Nyon are all instantly recognizable and have strong designs, even if a few of them fall into the hourglass figure that Oda often defaults to. It’s just...there aren’t that many of them.

So the question becomes why aren’t there more women, and I think the answer is because, ultimately, One Piece is a series geared at boys. While I wish there were a few more important ladies, I can understand why there aren’t.

Note, that doesn’t mean I think it’s right or that Oda is obligated to include more women. It’s just one of the facts of the shonen manga industry at this point in time.

A more important question, I think, is why does every younger woman have to be attractive? And why do the attractive ladies have to wear outfits that are blatant fanservice? This is something I don’t have an answer for. Oda has said on more than one occasion that he writes One Piece with his twelve year old self in mind. It could be that it’s a calculated move to appeal to his audience, in which case it’s certainly worked because said Hot Ladies are constantly used in marketing and merchandising. It’s the Hot Ladies that top the popularity charts (although, to be fair, who’s there for competition?). In the most recent chapter a new Hot Lady was introduced, and the fandom went batshit crazy for her.

Even the fans who are very vocal about how Oda sucks at drawing women. It’s interesting how that works out sometimes.

Or maybe I’m giving Oda too much credit, and he’s just horny. Not having direct access to Oda’s mind, I don’t have an answer. If I had to guess I’d say it’s a little of Column A, a little of Column B, because that’s usually how life is.

But in a vacuum big tiddies are just a design choice. An exaggerated aesthetic, in a series full of exaggerated aesthetics. It’s when that design choice is paired with in-story comments, actions, and decisions where things really start to get heated. But that’s a whole other ball of wax, and there should be a limit to how much one tumblr post can be expected to hold. I promise I’ll get to the meat of your question next time.

Thank you so much for your patience. I really do think it’s important to start here before diving into everything else, if only because it helps keep my thoughts organized. I hope you’ve found this helpful, and if not, I hope to do better next time.

#long post #dear lord what a long post #Character Design #one piece #I don't know why tumblr fucked up with the formatting of my answer #but I apologize in advance #sexism #sarc talks

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lemonadetyler · 5 years

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peter takes your virginity

pairing: peter parker x reader

type: smut // headcanon

a/n: wanna join my marvel tag list? just send me an ask :)

- so you’ve been dating peter for a hot minute & you know damn well its time for y’all to fuck

- not just timing wise, but you’ve wanted to for a while now

- peter obviously wants to too, but the lil baby won’t say so bc he doesn’t wanna make u uncomfortable in case u don’t want to.

- when you climb on his lap during make out sessions (which there are so many of), peter gets so hard & when you notice or gesture to it he gets SO embarrassed

- one time you very lightly started grinding on him & he couldn’t stop apologizing for getting a boner

- “it was an accident i swear!!”

- “peter, i would be upset if u didn’t get one.”

- like my mans is really so innocent

- so it’s gonna be a challenge.

- but sis gotta plan: peter comes over everyday after school to do homework & hang out. but today you’re gonna ‘forget’ he’s coming & fall asleep in your bed with some sexy underwear on

- girls gotta do what a girls gotta do

- you get home & practically rip your clothes off trying to get ready in time

- “wish peter was the one ripping my clothes off.” 🐸☕️

- so you put the bra & panties on & god damn do u look hot

- titties? popping. booty? thriving

- & you’re positioned in literally the most sexual position possible, like these itty bitty transparent panties are showing it ALL to whomever might walk through your door ;))

- & then it happens; peter walks in your room like usual

- “hey, y/n, do you think- woah!” peter exclaims

- you’re still fake asleep like the lil sneak bitch u are lmao

- you can feel peter’s eyes on u & know he’s staring hard

- u know that’s not all that’s hard in the room ;))

- he very gently begins to cover u up

- like a true gentlemen in peter parker fashion

- u fake wake up, “oh, peter!”

- “oh, uh, hey y-y/n.”

- “sorry i was so tired i just completely passed out after school.”

- “do u, uh, usually wear that to school?” peter asks, nervous as hell, SHOOTING HIS SHOT.

- “maybe you could find out?” you say with a lil smile.

- OH GIRL YES U REALLY DID JUST

- “i don’t know- i don’t wanna do something you’re uncomfortable with.” peter confesses to you.

- “uncomfortable?” you question. “peter i’ve been trying to get in your pants for months. you’re my boyfriend, i want this.”

- “you do??” he asks sounding surprised. & yes, he did sound very excited

- “peter, please.” you beg him, need in your voice.

- peter has never taken his shirt & jeans off faster

- he’s holding himself up on top of you while y’all making out

- he’s slowly beginning to make his way towards your jaw & down your neck. you are a moaning mess. peter is grinding just a lil & honestly, homeboy got moves.

- so you’re getting really wet so you’re starting to buck your hips up to meet his.

- “okay babygirl, i’m coming.” he tells you as he moves his mouth down to your pussy.

- ALSO

- BABYGIRL

- THAT NICKNAME

- FUCK ME IN THE ASS WITH A PLASTIC SPORK THAT IS HOT

- but peter isn’t stopping there, he’s picking you up and carrying you off the bed. you’re being slammed against the wall & peter is holding you against it while beginning to leave a trail of kisses down your thigh

- your panties are still on & are so thin & they are absolutely soaked

- peter is sucking on your clit & kissing your pussy lips through the thin fabric & you just physically cant

- “oh my god peter where did u learn to that?” you cry in between moans

- “let me make u feel good, babygirl”

- alright that’s fine we can do that

- peter finally slides your panties to the side & he just goes for it, diving his tongue inside of you. you’re not gonna last long. homeboy knows how to work that tongue

- “peter i’m gonna come.”

- “come on my face, baby.”

- YOUR INNOCENT LIL PETER BEAN SAID WHAT

- as previously stated, you did not last long. not after fuckin mr. clean himself dropped that dirty talk on u

- so peter let’s you down & you look at the bulge in his pants & it is large.

- “your turn.” you tell peter.

- “i don’t have a condom.” peter confesses.

- “i do.” you tell peter.

- “of course you do.” peter says sarcastically.

- you hand the condom to peter & he slips it over his length

- you’re lying on the bed again

- “are you sure about this? we don’t have to?” peter tells you.

- he’s so caring & always wanting to make sure you’re comfortable

- “i want this peter.” you remind him.

- he slides into you so gently & you expected some pain but honestly shit slaps

- “peter you can move.” you tell him.

- he begins to rock back forth, just barely pulling the tip out before sliding back in

- he’s constantly asking you if you’re okay

- you’re constantly telling him that it feels amazing

- “am i doing okay?” peter asks worriedly

- “you’re doing great.” you tell him.

- but soon the pleasure is getting too much to handle again

- “faster peter.”

- “are you sure?”

- “peter. i want you to fuck me.”

- & so he was off to races

- slamming into you; hard, fast, deep. dick game so strong stg

- “fuck right there.” you moan

- “you’re so tight.” peter tells you.

- “peter i’m gonna come again.”

- “not until you’re screaming my name.”

- BITCH WAS HE RIGHT

- he starts rubbing circles on your clit

- making you feel sum type of way

- you are SCREAMING his name

- your orgasm is ripping through you

- “mmm, fuck, y/n” peter moans & bites his lip as he reaches his climax.

- soon peter is collapsing besides you, your naked bodies breathing heavily together after both of your first times.

- “so how was it?” peter asks you

- “same time tomorrow?” you reply

- “i’ll be there.” peter agrees.

tag list:

@smilexcaptainx

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yangssunglasses · 4 years

Note

All right, not into femslash as you know, but for the sake of seeing you fulfill such a random prompt (because you numbered Naruto girls, didn’t you?): 8, 12 and ‘Give up’

Thanks for the prompt! I also used FemslashFeb2020 prompt: denim.

Pairing: Sakura/Anko (or as I’m calling it, Ankura :)

Rating: T

Length: 2k+

Available on FFN / AO3

Full Circle

The sexy and beautiful Mitarashi Anko was great at many things, usually having something to do with maiming and torture. She knew how to get under the skin of her targets, slip under their guard and into their minds, then strip them bare of all their secrets. Alternatively, she threatened them with her snakes, that usually did the trick. Whatever worked best, she would do it, she was flexible like this when the situation called for it. No wonder she bragged that she could touch her heels when she did a back bend.

What Anko didn’t know was what to do with an itty-bitty pink-haired genin standing in her way with a determined look on her little face.

“What do you want, kid?” Anko asked bluntly, fingering her new senbon pack as she fought off the trained reflex to turn anyone that even slightly inconvenienced her into a pincushion.

“Anko-san, right? You probably don’t remember me, but I was in the chunin exams when you were a proctor. I’m Haruno Sakura. Tsunade-sama’s apprentice,” the girl introduced herself.

Actually, Anko remembered her, it was hard not to. She was one of Kakashi’s cute ducklings and a teammate of that moody Uchiha kid that had gotten a little love bite with a cursed seal as a bonus and then had run off to that bastard for more power. Ugh.

Anko crossed her arms. “Whatever, I have shit to do, so cut to the chase, kid. I don’t have all day.”

A fire lit up in the girl’s clear green eyes. Anko had a bad feeling. She knew that look and it only meant something fucking annoying was coming her way. (Boss Nara would simply call it troublesome, but she wasn’t a boring old man playing shogi for fun.)

“Teach me,” the kid implored. “Teach me how to beat Orochimaru.”

Anko lost it. She doubled over, howling with laughter.

“You? You want to fight Orochimaru? And beat him?” She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. “Man, do they make genin stupider these days or what?”

The girl looked like she ate a lemon. “I’m serious! Please teach me. I heard you were his apprentice. You must know something about his strengths and weaknesses.”

Anko straightened up again, her momentary amusement gone with the mention of her past relationship with that bastard. That was where she drew a line at tomfoolery. The girl wanted serious, she’d get serious.

“Kid, Orochimaru is a freak of nature. And a real genius of ninjutsu. Whatever I know of him is a decade out of date. Go home.”

“Anko-san, please, he has Sasuke-kun! I need you to teach me so I can rescue him!” the girl still insisted, like she didn’t understand a word of what Anko had said to her.

The jounin scowled, getting mad. This was becoming ridiculous.

“Kid, what rescue are you talking about?! From what I hear that Uchiha brat defected. He joined the bastard out of his own free will. Traitors don’t get rescued, they get eliminated like they fucking deserve.”

“E-Eliminated? No… but we promised to save him… that can’t be true…” Blood drained from the girl’s face and she turned ghostly pale as she stared up in disbelief at her. Anko would have felt bad for the poor, delusional genin if she had any feelings to spare, but her deficiency of caring was permanent and incurable, so she just shrugged it off. That’s just what happened when you were smacked in the face with a brutal reality check.

“Let me give you a little advice,” Anko leaned in towards the shocked girl. “Give up, kid,” she told her straight to the face. “There’s nothing I can teach you about Orochimaru, besides don’t you have Tsunade for that? She was his teammate, wasn’t she? Just let her teach you how to crush mountains with your pinky or flatten the forest like a pancake. Then we can go together traitor-hunting if you’re still interested,” Anko suggested with a feral grin.

Sakura shuddered, but didn’t back down. The fierce light returned to her eyes. “No! I won’t give up on Sasuke-kun so easily!”

“Bad choice, really,” Anko replied, shaking her head, then sidestepped around the genin. “Well, you just study hard with Tsunade, kid, and I’ll ring you up when I figure out how to beat Orochimaru. See ya!”

She shunshined away from the aggravating little pink blob, then changed direction and made a beeline to her favourite dango shop. She was in a desperate need of a pick me up. Anko couldn’t believe she discussed going after Orochimaru with an unfledged genin, Tsunade’s apprentice or not! Hell no! Better forget this had ever happened.

Thankfully, the girl took some of Anko’s advice and left her alone, concentrating solely on the apprenticeship with Tsunade. Anko didn’t cross paths with the pink menace again for many years, but Konoha wasn’t that big. Bumping into each other was bound to happen someday.

The Fourth War was but a memory by then and the lasting peace among the nations basically put her out of the job. Orochimaru was contained by the village and no amount of begging and cajoling could get Anko close enough to finally shank the bastard (she swore it was all Kakashi’s fault. Damn that smug one-eyed masked party pooper.)

Her best friend, Kurenai, popped out a baby and was so busy with diaper-changing and all that motherly shizz that she had no time to hang out with Anko anymore. Maybe that was for the best, she’d be a bad influence on the tyke.

Everything was boring and peaceful, there were no new prisoners to interrogate and Anko was too keyed up to devise another brilliant plan to achieve her revenge on the snake. Instead, she restlessly prowled the streets of Konoha, looking for something, anything she could do. She was munching on dango, the sweet flavor filling her mouth and calming her mood like a horse tranquilizer, when she saw someone interesting.

Some babe in a red tunic was browsing through skirts at the clothing stall. She was putting some of them against her hips in order to decide which to buy without actually trying them on.

“Get the denim one, it will look good on your butt,” Anko’s foul tongue activated, giving unsolicited advice before she thought it through.

The woman jolted and whirled around. Surprised clear green eyes landed on Anko, mesmerizing her. She cursed herself internally for not recognizing that pink hair sooner. But how could she be blamed, the last time she checked, it belonged to some headache-inducing, scrawny genin. Not this… sex on legs.

“You’re not a kid,” Anko stated dumbly.

Sakura cocked her hip and put a hand on it. “You thought you were saying that to a kid?” she asked in disbelief.

Anko winced. Right, that butt comment made her sound all kinds of bad. “No, hell no. I just thought it was some hot chick, not you,” she backtracked, belatedly realizing she again put a foot in her mouth. She couldn’t help it though, Sakura really wasn’t that kid anymore, she was a grown up bombshell of a woman and Anko still couldn’t get over that.

Sakura’s brow scrunched up as she regarded her with narrowed eyes, fists clenching and releasing with indecision. “I can’t figure out whether you just called me ugly or hot,” she said slowly. “If it was the former, I would deck you.”

Anko’s eyes gleamed eagerly. “Then if it was hot, would you come with me for some drinks? Uh, I mean, coffee?” she proposed, since it was still too early for sake. “We could catch up.”

Sakura pinned her with a hard look, then shrugged. “Only if you’re paying,” she stipulated and Anko nodded.

“You know, I meant it about that denim skirt, take it. It will really look good on you,” she added.

Sakura hummed thoughtfully and examined the piece of clothing in question again. Then she folded it and took it to the seller.

Two minutes later, Sakura joined Anko and they walked side by side to a nearby café. They placed their orders and settled on the opposite sides in a booth. Sakura put her shopping bag on the seat next to her, then looked at Anko inquisitively.

“You wanted to catch up?” she reminded.

Anko startled, realizing that she was caught staring. “Right! Sooo… how’s it going?” she asked with a chuckle to mask her awkwardness.

Sakura shrugged. “Not bad. We have peace.”

“Yeah… that’s the worst. I’m so bored most of the time. There’s no work for me!”

Anko’s outburst of frustration made the other kunoichi blink. “I didn’t think about it before, but it makes sense… So you’re free most of the time?” she asked.

“Pretty much…” Anko confirmed with a morose sigh.

“Then what do you do? Any hobbies?”

“Not really…” Anko replied, frowning. Their coffees arrived and Sakura poured sugar in hers, then took a dainty sip. Anko didn’t touch hers, she wasn’t really that thirsty. Instead, she discreetly took in Sakura, when a brilliant thought occurred to her. “Say, you were Kakashi’s student and he’s been a real bother to me recently…” she said.

Sakura looked at her in surprise. “Kakashi-sensei? What did he do?”

Anko scowled darkly into her coffee before raising her eyes to the other woman. “He’s protecting that lowlife Orochimaru from justice. Killing the bastard would be a community service at this point and he won’t let me,” she gritted out.

“Oh,” Sakura muttered in understanding. “I’m sorry.”

And that was it. Anko knew that she wouldn’t get any help. It was a long shot anyway. In the silence, they both contemplated the absolute unfairness of it all.

“For the record, I was against letting him go, but all the villages decided to take his offer and let him live,” Sakura informed her with an anxious look.

“I know. The slippery bastard got away again,” Anko said and sighed in defeat, closing her eyes.

A warm touch on her hand made her open them in surprise. Sakura gave her a light, reassuring squeeze.

“That doesn’t mean the battle is over. Old habits die hard, you know. The moment he puts one toe out of line…”

“… I will be waiting,” Anko finished with a bloodthirsty grin. “And take his head off.”

Sakura smiled back. “Exactly. Don’t give up.”

She took back her hand and Anko found herself already wishing the touch lasted a little longer. She leaned back in her seat, more relaxed, and tried the coffee. Too strong, she thought with a grimace and set it down.

“Well, at least everything worked out for you. You got back your teammate. I didn’t think it would be possible,” she remarked lightly.

Sakura tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes, that was like a miracle. I’m glad Sasuke-kun is okay now,” she said modestly.

Anko pierced her with a hawk-like stare. “So, anything going on between you two?” she asked candidly.

Sakura jolted, a few drops of her coffee spilling on the table. “What, me and Sasuke-kun? No. It’s not like that… He’s a very dear friend of mine now, but that’s all,” she explained as she wiped the stains with a bunch of paper napkins.

Anko internally cheered, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone else in the way. Better double check if she actually needed to get her assassination kit from storage. “Oh, so you’re ‘too busy for romance’ kind of gal?” she teased.

Sakura frowned. “Kind of… I’ve really got a lot of work,” she admitted despondently. “What about you, Anko-san? Any success in love?”

“Nope! I am completely single!” Anko announced with a broad smile. “But I’m always up for a bit of fun with a right person,” she added, giving her a suggestive wink. She noted with pleasure a subtle pinkening on Sakura’s cheeks.

“I-I see,” Sakura mumbled and reached for her coffee. Anko let her have a moment of peace to compose herself before changing the topic to something less personal. Fashion. Clothes were good.

They chatted for a while, then Sakura checked her watch and put down her empty cup on the table. “Sorry, I need to get going,” she said regretfully.

Anko nodded in understanding. “Duty calls, right?”

“Right. It was great to talk to you, Anko-san.” Sakura bit her lip, thinking something over, then she fished a pen out of her purse and wrote an address on a napkin. “Here.”

Anko picked it up in a daze. She couldn’t quite believe her luck. Did she just get invited to Sakura’s place? After all that lame flirting and constantly putting her foot in it? “Aww, are you going to miss me so much that you already want me to visit?” she joked.

Sakura gave her a slow, careful once over, then smirked. “Maybe.”

This time it was Anko’s turn to flush at the unexpected flirtation. She was blindsided!

“Actually, I’m starting a children’s mental health clinic. I could use your help there,” Sakura offered in all seriousness.

Anko gaped at her. “You would allow me around kids?”

“Don’t worry, they don’t bite. Most of the time,” Sakura answered blithely. “You said you were bored at work. These kids are war orphans. I think with your own experiences your advice would be really useful in the clinic.” She checked her watch again and hissed. “Shizune will kill me!” Sakura grabbed her shopping bag and stood up. “Please, just think about it, Anko-san. That’s all I ask. See you!” she threw the last words over her shoulder as she left the café in a hurry.

Anko watched her go, then looked at the address pensively. After a moment, she crumbled the napkin into a ball and threw it across the room straight into the trash bin. Score! Ha!

At leisure, Anko stretched, paid the bill, and ambled out of the café, hands in pockets of her trench coat. She walked the streets of Konoha until she stopped in front of a new building. She looked at the freshly painted, cheerful yellow walls and read the gleaming sign.

Children’s Mental Health Clinic in Konoha.

Kids. Anko mentally sighed. She wasn’t so sure she’d be any good at dealing with them, but she supposed Sakura wouldn’t let her traumatize the munchkins even more. Just having the opportunity to see her every day was worth giving this a try.

Well, at least Ibiki wouldn’t lose any more hair because of her. Anko trembled with quiet snickers at her own joke and turned back. She had some paperwork to fill and a superior to shock into a cardiac arrest.

#femslashfeb2020 #sakura haruno #anko mitarashi #ankura #my fanfiction

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criscura · 5 years

Photo

Here we are. This is it.

I don’t like talking that much about...y’know, stuff like this before, but I think it’s worth it for this guy. After three years, almost 500,000 words, and stacks and stacks and stacks of paper, we’re at the end of Tumbling Down.

I’ve learned an incredible amount writing it. I’ve grown as a person and a writer. So much of me and my loved ones and everyone I talk to has gone into making this, and I can’t really explain how much it’s done for me.

Thank you so, so, so, so, SO MUCH to all the artists, writers, fans, and readers that stuck with me. Thank you so much.

.........Okay that’s all ////// I get flustered with stuff like that....

A shout-out to @oil-tears and this incredible prompt, which started this entire fucking thing and got me writing again. And a shout-out to the whole fandom, too.

If you do not listen to “Book of Love” as you’re reading this, or at LEAST right after you finish it, I will be very sad because I’ve lost count of how many times I bust out ugly crying thinking about this fic and that song.

Here’s the last chapter, and the whole thing on AO3. ((You might want to read the first chapter too. Just...a suggestion))

....Thank you so much guys <3<3<3<3<3<3

Pillow Talk

Takeout, again. It was killing Saitama to order out this much, but there weren’t any stores running good sales and all they had left in the fridge were odds and ends. They probably should’ve gone out to get fresh stuff, but…man, Saitama had been starving and that would’ve taken a couple hours.

“Sensei, Good BuyZ is running a ‘Summer Savings’ sale on Friday.”

“Oh yeah?” They must have posted the promo today, Saitama hadn’t seen it before. He fiddled with his bowl of noodles, thinking through the week. Today was Wednesday, so…if they used up the leftovers tomorrow, they’d be covered until Friday… “Sounds good! We’ll check it out.”

Genos nodded and went back to studying a notebook laid out next to his curry chicken. He’d drawn a little diagram of the two of them in there. The dumb faces he put on his sketches always made Saitama laugh—he got oval eyes and a circle for a mouth (if he was lucky), and all Genos scratched in for himself were two angry black boxes. The way he kept on stopping before he wrote, though, made Saitama wonder if he wasn’t looking through his recordings…

Ah, well. He could ask what videos he was using later. For now he poked his cyborg’s arm. “Aren’t you hungry?” He had an event with HAATO today and then immediately called up Kuseno when he got home. He must’ve been running on empty by this point. “I know how you get when you’re busy. C’mon, dig in.”

Genos pouted back at Saitama, the same way he always did when his sensei called him out. “I will be fine, Sensei. My reserves are more than enough to sustain me for long after my primary power runs out, but that isn’t a risk because I have plenty to last me for several more hours—”

Saitama raised an eyebrow, and his husband pouted harder.

“…But I suppose I should eat something, just in case.”

“Mm,” he answered, “Don’t want to fall asleep for movie night, right? Besides, you gotta take care of yourself, kid.”

“I do…although Sensei already takes quite good care of me.”

God was he corny. Saitama shook his head and looked back to his notebook, wondering what he was plotting out in there. He started sketching when he was on the phone with Kuseno, so… “Is that what were you talking about earlier? With the doc, I mean. Is it for new parts?”

A tiny hiss came from Genos’ shoulders as he nodded, biting into a hunk of chicken. He dabbed away some of the sauce with a napkin and scribbled in another note.

Saitama tried to imagine what kind of upgrade it could be. He didn’t see anything different the last time he was in the lab…but then again, it was hard to tell one pile of wires, gears, and chips apart from another pile of wires, gears, and chips. It must’ve had to do with the list of pros and cons Genos was writing, and the arrows pointing at his face, his neck, his palms, his feet… What did any of those have in common? They were all pretty different…except… “Is it for your skin? Is Kuseno working on a new kind?”

The boy glanced up and bit his lip. Sensei liked hearing about his upgrades, and normally Genos was more than happy to explain it to him, but…discussing this one, when they hadn’t even begun the process yet… “Y-yes, Sensei. It would be, ah…slip-on covers, ideally, a bit like gloves and stockings, that would make my armor safer for more…more vulnerable bodies…”

Saitama straightened up right away. “O-oh? Really?”

The low din of fans kicked in, filling the room with a familiar hum. He hadn’t thought about it before, but…guess it was pretty easy for things to get pinched at Genos’ shoulder and elbow, huh? Especially if he was…holding them there… Saitama swallowed back the butterflies that image gave him and touched Genos’ hand. “Do you need help? Thinking it over, I mean. …If I can.”

Genos sat quiet for a moment. His vents sure did get louder though. “Saitama-sensei,” he trailed, “If…you could tell me which you think would be best, of these…”

Saitama craned his neck to see the whole page. “Uh… Which would be softest?”

There was a creak as Genos pushed away from the edge and skootched over to Saitama’s side of the table, notebook in tow. He plopped himself cross-legged next to his hero and opened it in front of him. “More, Sensei, which would be most comfortable for an—an i-infant. Should we end up…um… Do you think the warmth of my skin is most important, or the padding from my palms and feet…”

“Okay,” Saitama breathed, taking it in his hands. Genos was so fucking cute when he got nervous (not that Saitama didn’t get why). He cooled his head enough to scan the diagrams and immediately realized how bad he was at visualizing things. “Can I, uh…” He lifted his arm, waiting for Genos to look over at him.

The boy nodded and Saitama slid his hand across his cheek, smiling when Genos leaned into it. He was such a dork… Saitama was too though, ‘cause it still gave him flutters when Genos did stuff like that. They were married for frick’s sake, he needed to get his act together.

He moved his hand without thinking and tried to compare what the rest of Genos’ body felt like. It’s not like all his other squishy parts weren’t soft too, they were just soft in a different way. The skin on his face was velvety, and firm, and warm… Not quite as warm as the rest of him, but enough to feel nice…

Saitama glanced up at his disciple’s eyes and saw the telltale flicker of numbers in his iris. He gave a soft laugh. “Are you recording me…?”

“Perhaps, Sensei,” he admitted. “…My husband is very handsome when he’s focused.”

The man shook his head and ignored the ticking counter, trying not to get self-conscious. He wrapped a hand around Genos’ and compared it to his face. The fleshy skin was softer, that wasn’t a question, but his palms were like tiny pillows… He ran his fingers down Genos’ cheek and chin and nose, weighing, deciding. He might’ve been getting a little distracted too, if he was being honest. The kid’s skin was really soft, and his eyelashes were so long, and he could land a permanent gig at any modeling agency he interviewed at because he was so damned jaw-dropping…

Saitama snapped to and felt along Genos’ hand, going from wrist to fingertip and back down to the knuckle. He couldn’t help but linger over the itty-bitty words over his ring finger though. Genos didn’t say anything, the same way he didn’t say anything as Saitama pressed his thumb over his lips. He must’ve had the nicest lips in the whole world, what with them being all plush like that. No one could come close. Saitama’d kissed them more than a billion times by now and he’d never get over how pouty and smooth and—

He jumped, caught off-guard by those same lips pressed up against his own. Only then did he notice how far he’d leaned in, and the sly little smirk painted across his disciple’s face. Had Genos just been watching him come close…?

…Saitama’s cheeks blazed, and he didn’t know why. It’s not like he wasn’t used to Genos being a total brat when it came to stuff like that. He knew every one of Saitama’s buttons and he played them like a PS2 controller. But nevermind! Forget all that, Saitama had to focus, he needed to figure out what would be best for a b…baby…and stop thinking about Genos’ perfect skin and his pillowy lips and his pretty, gold hair…

Saitama hung his head. “They’re all really good,” he said, mumbling over the buzz of Genos’ core. “I think Kuseno could make something out of any of it.”

“He could, I do not doubt that, but…I’m unsure which to suggest first. They all have their benefits and drawbacks.”

“…What about,” Saitama drawled, desperate to offer something worthwhile, “Some padding?” Genos sat there, tipping his head, waiting for him to continue. God did Saitama wish he was smarter. “Y’know…cushioning, or fluff, so…their head has something nice to lay on.” He took a slow breath. “I’m sure he could blend them fine. I mean, your throat and tongue and all that is just fixed up skin, isn’t it? So it would work.”

Genos batted his eyelashes in a way that meant danger. “I hadn’t thought of it that way…though I suppose Sensei would know far better than me how both of those feel.”

Saitama muttered a bashful “brat” and they sat, daring the other to go on, knowing they were both feeling that same giddiness, that same heat…

“Genos,” Saitama mumbled, fiddling with the edge of his chestplate.

It took a second for Genos to respond. “We will look at it with fresher minds in the morning, Sensei,” was all he said. Then he stood up, walked out onto the balcony, and closed the door behind him so the warm air didn’t rush in as he fished their bedding off the drying line.

Saitama watched him through the glass, fixed on his silhouette moving against the dark sky. Saitama probably should’ve been laying out their futon right now, but…he couldn’t. There was something hypnotic about seeing Genos there, and he couldn’t pull away.

He tried to figure out what it was. It had to do with the shimmer of the moonlight, and how gently his fingers moved, and the way his armor caught the stars… It was like he was casting a spell out there, almost.

…Geeze, all the kid was doing was unpinning laundry and Saitama felt like he was watching Cinderella transform into a princess. It was ridiculous. It happened every time he ogled Genos for too long and it was ridiculous. He could be folding clothes, typing emails, paying a cashier…it didn’t matter. The feeling hit Saitama all the time and he could never explain himself when he was caught staring.

…Just like when Genos came back inside. Saitama didn’t have a chance to whip his face away before Genos made eye contact, and he knew immediately. All he did was smile back at him though, and look at the blankets on his arm, and pat out their wrinkles.

“Sensei, do you want me to save the leftovers?”

Sensei fumbled with his drawstrings, hiding the red in his cheeks.

“I can use them to make a stir-fry tomorrow.”

“Uh… Sure, Genos. Go ahead.”

Trailing smugness and a gentle buzz, Genos laid the sheets down and gathered up all the dishes. Saitama moved to help but he was waved off. In no time flat their lunches were made and packed away, perfect little bentos appearing on the counter like…well, like magic.

Saitama kept on watching as he washed the dishes. He must’ve been a little bit magic, to do all the things he did. To be as amazing as he was. Saitama thought so, at least.

Genos glanced up at the picture of them hanging in the kitchen and picked up the “I do” mug. He started humming to himself as he rinsed it.

…Yeah. That was undeniably, positively it. Magic. That was all it could be. There were all sorts of magic, after all—hypnotizing someone, making things disappear…true love’s first kiss…

Genos peeked at his husband and back to the sink, scrubbing motions slowing.

There were a lot of magical things out there.

“Sensei,” blondie called, “Do you want to begin loading Chobits while I dry the dishes?”

...And now that he thought about it, “happily ever after” was pretty magical too.

“Yeah… Yeah, sure Genos. Sounds good.”

He reached over and pulled the DVD off the tower. A stack of papers came tumbling down after it, one of them a packet from the HA about their adoption program. Bang had given it to them a week ago, saying they might be interested, but they never figured out how he knew. It’s not like they talked about it with anyone other than Kuseno…

Saitama put down the DVD for a second and flipped to the page where he left off reading. It was tough for him to concentrate with how hard his heart was thumping inside his chest.

#one punch man #one punch #opm #genos #saitama #genosai #saigenos #precious robot baby #egg on legs #egg on all fours #fic #fan fiction #opm fic #tumbling down #oil-tears #i don't believe it #wow #fuck

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fireinclined · 6 years

Text

mutant apocalypse headcanons

paola winding up with raph and donnie

ok so i’m gonna do a slight au of my verse for cassandra where paola ends up with donnie and raph instead of ending up with cassandra.

paola likes to pretend she’s salty that robo-donnie’s so much taller than she is, but she’s really not. more than anything, she feels bad for donnie for being trapped in a robot body.

and paola does minimal repairs to herself- any spare parts are saved for donnie. this means paola’s arms are prone to falling off, and she might glitch in the middle of her sentences. raph knows that she’s not using any new parts, but paola has sworn him to secrecy. i can imagine donnie’s figured it out, but just…doesn’t say anything.

loss of cassandra’s ship

cassandra’s ship is incredibly dear to her and was her home for over two decades, was the birthplace of her best friend, and connects her to her lost planet more than anything else. With losing her ship, even if she’s able to repurpose the pieces of it, is a devastating blow to a woman who has lost her husband, her sons, her other adopted children, and her best friend. and, with the loss of her ship, is now essentially stranded on earth.

turtle mutants

despite maximus having killed off most turtle mutants, cassandra was able to save three, and keeps them hidden from the rest of the world for fear that word would get back to maximus. their names are cosimo, jean, and paolo, and cassandra loves them very much.

how cassandra is able to care for the mutants she takes in

it took cassandra over six months to completely repurpose her ship into the mobile fortress. and when i say mobile fortress..i do mean mobile fortress. her ship was designed to comfortably fit crews of 50+ grown capellans, so the mobile fortress is h u g e.

now, the only town near paola’s cabin is an itty bitty town, and it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to say they all either died or became feral mutants. cassandra essentially looted the entire town and stocked up her fortress. she usually scavenged the shit out of wherever she goes- and that works, but she’s well aware that it’s not sustainable.

she starts a garden in the mobile fortress, and has the kids help her take care of it. i was wondering about what they’d do for meat considering most if not all animals were mutated and i’m going with : not everyone became sentient. some just got huge and that’s it.

it’s not like cassandra said “fuck you” to all the adults- she did take in confused and disorientated adults ( i mean everyone was confused and disoriented but You Know What I Mean). so long as they helped, they were welcome. but cassandra’s main priority is these kids.

ANYWAY. MY POINT BEING: at first, cassandra had the mutants that knew how to hunt, either from human life or from being a predator animal, hunt for meat for the rest of the group. and cassandra also has these adults help take care of the kids- the LAST thing cassandra wants is kids having to raise other kids. she wants to give them some semblance of a childhood.

in summary!

cassandra stocked up on food early on and continues to scavenge wherever possible

she started a rather large garden in the fortress

she has the adults that can hunt do so to get meat for the group

yeah basically it’s like a tribe of a mishmash of mutants

mutant kids growing up and cassandra’s role as ‘goddess’

as the kids grow up, they are given the option to leave, of course, but few want to, mostly because..you know, it’s the apocalypse. so over the years, the children that have grown up have built their own vehicles and basically created this…fleet that goes everywhere with the mobile fortress.

as for what they do when attacked…well, the fortress certainly isn’t defenseless, and neither are the, uh, mini-fortresses that travel with it. in fact, most people know to just fuck off and not bother cassandra’s tribe…which is in part also due to the myth and mystery surrounding her.

cassandra reveals to very, very few people that she’s an alien, and…doesn’t discourage people thinking she’s some sort of mother goddess.

the main belief is that cassandra was created as a result of the m-bomb, and ascended to become a fire wielding, clairvoyant mother goddess. only a select few are privy to cassandra’s actual life story.

some tribes do worship cassandra, which…is extremely uncomfortable for her. she can’t stand it. but it’s far safer and better for her children if she plays this part out. she ESPECIALLY plays up the goddess aspect in an au where there’s a fragment of atlas left inside her, since she will live for centuries and whatnot.

one unfortunate side effect is that parents will sometimes leave their children in the desert at night if they can’t take care of them, completely believing that the goddess will come take them into her care.

not long after this started, cassandra visited the tribes doing this and said that they could only do this on certain dates- that, powerful as she was, she could not be everywhere at once. now, on those dates, cassandra and a small number of her inner circle go out with her to find these children.

short list of the mutants cassandra’s taken in

patches, a mutated kitten and a former pet. the first mutant cassandra takes in. patches is mutated to be roughly 8 years old and grows up to be cassandra’s right hand woman.

peaches, a parakeet who joins her on the way out of new york city. she’s roughly 15 after mutation and wears an aviator’s cap she found

cosimo, paolo, and jean, a trio of turtle mutants who were left in the desert for cassandra to take into her care, because the tribe knew maximus was coming. cassandra does admittedly favor these three, and names them after renaissance artists.

paolo is partially named after paola though.

jean is also partially named after joan of arc (jeanne d’arc)

cassandra picked cosimo because it looks like cosmos

patches

patches, an orange tabby kitten, didn’t know what to do when her human family was mutated. but she did remember the parents of her owner, a little boy named francis, talking about what francis should do in an emergency. so, patches searched for days for a human adult when she finally stumbled on a tall, blonde haired woman who was frantically searching through the rubble.

patches stopped the human, and asked her, if she would, please come help her family. they were all strange looking now, and wouldn’t move no matter what she did. the human looked distraught- and for a moment, patches was certain that she was going to say no. but the human came with her anyway, all the way back to their tiny apartment.

when the woman, who eventually revealed that her name was cassandra, saw patches’s family, she immediately looked sad. patches didn’t understand it at first- didn’t understand what “dead” meant, didn’t understand why her family wouldn’t wake up.

cassandra was so patient with her, even when patches began to understand and started sobbing into her shirt. when patches had calmed down, cassandra offered to take care of patches from now on, if she wanted. the kitten had nowhere else to go, knew no one else…of course she said yes.

over days, then months, then years, patches grew to be a strong, competent young woman, who never forget her first human family, but swore to protect her mishmashed mutant one.

the night of the goddess’ children

the night where tribes will leave the children for cassandra to take into her care is formally called the night of the goddess’ children.

cassandra, having been abandoned and given the -ndra suffix on capella herself, wants these children to feel loved and accepted from the moment they board the mobile fortress. that’s why they have something akin to a birthday party awaiting the new children when they come back. no one outside cassandra’s tribe knows about it, so it’s a surprise party, and it’s always a lot of fun

the m bomb

cassandra honest to god thought that the m-bomb was gonna be no big deal. they’d been through so much, so many world ending threats and come out on top almost every time. she was blinded by her confidence in her boys, and when the bomb did drop? it was like the ground gave way underneath her. for a long time, she wondered when she was going to wake up from this nightmare. when splinter was going to shake her awake and reveal everything - splinter’s death, the m-bomb, her boys going missing- it was all a bad dream. a possible future, yes, but one she could work around.

sometimes she’ll still get that feeling of it all being a dream.

hellion

hellion only adopts like 7 kids but she has an army of like 70 extremely dangerous mutants who tried to kill her and joined her after she beat the shit out of them. they protect the wasteland as best they can, frequently going up against maximus kong’s underlings. her army loves how nuts she is, doing shit like taking on huge armies all at once and by herself, challenging maximus kong in front of his rig, with no escape plan, and in general throwing herself into ultra dangerous situations.

#🌠 the mother goddess of the wastes. ( verse : mutant apocalypse. )#🌠 and the universe said everything you need is within you. ( headcanons : all. )#🌠 and the universe said i love you because you are love. ( headcanons : cassandra. )

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marbresauvage · 7 years

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Un, Deux, Trois // 🐻

tl;dr: okay, so here’s the sitch. we wanted to get enjolras drunk, and have snuggles between our three boys. thing is, they were like ‘yo we gotta confeSS OUR EMOTIONS’ and went 'ok no we’re not getting drunk we just gon snuggle’ so. uh. oops precursor to poly?

setting: 4th of april, aka the day when bahorel and grantaire got Cosy™ in the pub (as noted in the gossip mag apparently?), after they came back to the apartment

with: enjolras, grantaire ( @la-vie-dure ), and bahorel ( @ofscarletopinions )

content warnings: alcohol

Grantaire fought with the key. Bahorel and him had left the pub, both slightly drunk, so getting the key into the lock was hard. Once he opened the door, he just stumbled in. "We have returned home, mon amour."

Bahorel leaned heavily on the door frame, he felt that everything he did was heavy. Why was he so big, honestly, if he fell on the others he was half worried he'd crush them. The door was nice and sturdy though, he felt less concerned. "I feel left out already. Mon amour! Love, a many splendor thing! Love lifts us up where we belong! All we need is love!"

Enjolras was still working, letting out a 'hm' noise as the cats stirred when the door opened, not noticing himself that his humans had returned. Indeed, he hadn't even known that Bahorel had come back, and the fellow had been returned for long enough that he really should have known, considering how, y'know, he lived with him. This was what happened when work. Utter Absorption™.

Grantaire flushed slightly at Bahorel's words and he tried to punch him against his arm but his strength was not really there so he just... did not. "Do not feel left out, there is room enough for you, too." He said as he patted his chest above where his heart was. Stumbling into the living room, he glanced at Enjolras. "You should take a break and bestow your lovely presence upon us."

Bahorel grinned at Grantaire and let himself bump into him as he walked, a chin tucked against his shoulder and a sloppy kiss brushed over what he could reach before he was quite literally invading Enjolras' personal space, sliding to half drape over the arm of the couch and half sprawl on the floor, limbs thrown to rest on Enjolras. "I've returned! I bring gifts! Gifts of good company and good drink. Join us, mon ami!" He slid slightly off the couch, his head now resting on Enjolras' shoulder against the end of his curls

Enjolras could smell alcohol, but frankly, that was nothing new and the smell didn't really bother him too much. So, when there was a presence on his shoulder and limbs across his person, he naturally assumed it was Grantaire and continued to work until he reached an appropriate stopping point, whereupon he finally closed the laptop and looked up. And stopped short, in surprise. "You're not Grantaire." He squinted, pulling back a little to consider the other, looking up at Grantaire, then back down at who he now realised to be Bahorel. "Oh. You're back."

Grantaire laughed at Enjolras' confusion. "Mon ami," he started, glancing at Bahorel before letting himself flop down next to Enjolras and letting his own head drop onto his other shoulder. "It seems as if we were both wrong. Enjolras has not simply forgotten to mention your return, he has not even realized it. Now that is a new level on the Enjolras-meter that I had not thought of yet." Reaching with his hand across of Enjolras, he patted whichever part he could reach of Bahorel, "But fret not, mon ami, I have noticed your return. Very much so."

Bahorel proceeded to pout nonetheless and pressed a tight lipped kiss to the small circle of skin behind Enjolras ear, one long arm reached around to fall on Grantaire. "Enjolras has no time for his roommate!" It's spoken very grandly, and also, very drunkenly, "--only work! Mon ami, I have missed you, your eagle eye concentration, for all that it leads to this. Worry not though, what pain you might have inflicted has been soothed by R, may your wine be plentiful and your laugh jolly."

Enjolras cocked his head, considering the two revolutionaries draped across him, and settled back, aware that this was his fate. They were both drunk. This was fine. "...I have missed you too?" He turned his head to kiss Grantaire's forehead, then turned to kiss Bahorel's also, his hands still upon his laptop due to having just been using it. "What's happening?"

Grantaire turned his head to press a kiss onto Enjolras' neck before grinning at him. "Drinking is happening. Join us. Take a break. Celebrate! For our lost ami has returned to us!"

Bahorel laughed at the other two, his head thrown back to press against Enjolras even as he moved to stand, he shook, barely and grinned down at the other two, suddenly, even more aware of his own height. "I have wine, I'll get the glasses and pour, put your work away, I doubt you'll get back to it tonight." With that he dropped a lingering kiss to both of their foreheads and moved to the kitchen.

Enjolras blinked, still somewhat confused, and obediently put his laptop beneath the coffee table, alongside the various notepads and work stuff before he sat back against Grantaire, taking his hand in his own due primarily to that being his natural state of being. "What day is it?"

Grantaire linked his fingers with Enjolras' and just fondly shook his head. "Wednesday. It has been a while since I saw your handsome face, you need to learn to not let yourself be completely absorbed with your work. I miss seeing you and having your attention."

Bahorel returned triumphant with drinks and kisses pressed to the top of their heads, blond and brunette, before he passed off the glasses. "Cherry wine, mon amis, I hear it's something of a delicacy." He pressed himself to Enjolras side, a leg kicked out to lay over Grantaire's own. "Together again."

Enjolras was sandwiched between the two, but found little in this circumstance to complain about. "I cannot say I know what is happening, but alright."

Grantaire took the glass with his free hand and tried to sit up slightly, all the while balancing the glass and not letting go of Enjolras' hand. "I am looking forward to trying this delicacy," he said as he raised his glass to not only look at the wine but also clink glasses with the other two. "Just join in. Drink to us being reunited."

Bahorel tapped his glass against Grantaires and grinned at Enjolras, loose limbed and warm, both from drink and the company of good friends. "Drink. Be merry. We have eachother and all is well, think, for tonight, on nothing but joy. What's happening mon ami, is friendship." He took a drink from his glass.

Enjolras sniffed at the wine, a little...not nervous or anything, just...nervous. What? He wasn't a drinker. "I'm not sure we have the same definitions of friendship. But, if that is what it is to you, very well. I suppose..." He took a little sip. Itty bitty. Teeny weenie. It was a very smol sip. It tasted weird. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Grantaire took a drink of his own glass, letting the liquid settle on his tongue before swallowing it. "This was a very good choice," he commented, deciding to merely hide his amusement about the 'friendship' commentary. "I like the full-fruit flavor of it." He turned to look at Enjolras. "This should not be considered a sip of the wine. Try more."

Bahorel laughed, "perhaps not friendship then, what's happening now is, camaraderie. Caring. Call it what you will, but we all know the feelings we have." He licked his lips and let the taste linger on his tongue, "drink Mon Ami, in time it will taste less like vinegar and more like the cherries we know it to be."

Enjolras exhaled, furrowing his brow as he smelled the wine again. "Life would be so much simpler if people just said what they thought and felt." Still, he did as bade, and tried a little more, this time actually lifting the glass to take an actual sip instead of just dipping his tongue into it. And yet, he made a face. Alcohol was weird.

Grantaire nodded and took another sip. "Being upfront would have saved us a few headaches, wouldn't it?" He commented before leaning over and nudging his nose against Enjolras' cheek. "You'll get used to the taste, just as Bahorel said."

Bahorel looked at Enjolras first, then leaned over to see R fully before he sat back, the tight line of his shoulders relaxing as he took another swallow of the wine. "I desire both of you romantically to be honest with you, as I mean, why not? Times have changed, the taboo is no longer a concern of mine." It was said casually, though he didn't quite look at either of them

Enjolras stopped. Then he placed his glass upon the coffee table, pressed a reassuring kiss to the back of Grantaire's hand, turned towards Bahorel, placed his newly-free hand upon the side of the bearded man's neck, and pressed a firm kiss to his lips as he squeezed Grantaire's hand.

Grantaire returned the squeeze of the hand and watched as Enjolras kissed Bahorel. It felt as if a weight that he had not been aware of was lifted off his shoulders. Setting his own glass down, he leaned over and let his hand run through Bahorel's hair. "It seems like Enjolras is not opposed and neither am I."

Bahorel lay his hand on Enjolras face and tilted his chin, deepening the kiss, letting the other taste the wine on his tongue. Still, he pressed forward, laid his hand on Grantaire's arm before withdrawing, "there is a circle here we must not let break. It's only fair to keep it even." He pressed a kiss to Grantaire's arm and smiled at the both. "No one opposes then?"

Enjolras was very pleased, yes. The wine tasted marginally better in the mouth of someone else. "Nobody opposes. We should still discuss this, however." A pause. "When you both have become sober. You're both drunk."

Grantaire shook his head. "Certainly not opposing." Glancing at Enjolras, he kissed him on the cheek before leaning over him to press a short kiss on Bahorel's lips. "I may be drunk but my mind is still functioning normally."

Bahorel hummed into the kiss before pulling back, "I'm very drunk. However, I've wanted this sober for weeks upon weeks, that has not changed in the last few hours." He pressed as close to the both of them as he comfortably could. "I have missed you both dearly."

Enjolras leaned upon Bahorel and pulled Grantaire close to his chest. "You're both still drunk. You may think this is a good idea now, but that does not mean you'll feel the same way when you sober up."

Grantaire easily leaned into Enjolras and shrugged. "I do not think that the feeling is going to change. For me, it also has been building up for a while. But if it makes you feel more at ease, we will speak about this tomorrow. After all, the feelings will not have changed, so we should not worry."

Bahorel smiled into the blond of Enjolras hair and reached past to lay a hand on Grantaire, "we shall speak of it tomorrow over breakfast, speaking for myself I'll say it's been too long a thing I've lived with for it to suddenly fade now that I might have it. It took a while but this, here, this is a proper homecoming."

Enjolras let out a little hum as he leaned into both of them. Yes. This was good. "Thank you, I appreciate this. Tomorrow, when sobriety is a thing. For now, however, I must ask...how long have you been back? Did you know about this? How did I not notice?"

Grantaire shook his head in amusement. "I found out about this when he decided to text me. I had not known before." While he spoke, he had leaned forward to try and reach his glass again.

Bahorel snorted, and shook his head, his eyes rolled and he took another swallow of his wine. "I've been back a week oh grand leader, a week in which I thought you'd told R I was back. Did you expect your dishes washed themselves?"

Enjolras blinked. A week? "...There are dishes?"

Grantaire laughed and took another sip of his wine. After all, they said they would be sober tomorrow . "You are unbelievable." He said with fondness.

Bahorel leaned forward to kiss his hair, voice almost unbearably fond, "were. There were dishes. And food to go on them. And drinks to go with them." He leaned to address Grantaire, "you see what I live with?"

Enjolras was kissed and pressed his thumb lightly against the back of Grantaire's hand, tracing absent patterns. "A lot has been happening. Dishes and food and drinks are secondary." Still, he held his humans closer, pleased at the proximity.

Grantaire chuckled. "At least he has someone to remind him to eat and stay hydrated," he said fondly. "I could think of worse people to share an apartment with." He let his own thumb trace along Enjolras' skin. "I do thank you for taking care of the dishes though. Eventually, I would have come by and done them but I have to admit, I, myself, have been a bit soaked into painting and drawing these days."

Bahorel he mock lamented to himself, head tilted toward the heavens, "why this? I care for two plants hiding as people, they must be watered and fed and given sunlight, one must be given a steady diet of alcohol the other must be reminded to drink at all."

Enjolras yawned a little, and wrapped himself around both of them. "You have become our responsible adult, petit croissant."

Grantaire smirked. "You still have the choice to get out of this. Think about it. If you agree to this, you will have to be the responsible one out of us." Which to be fair. Even if he would decide against it, he'd still have to deal with being the responsible one between them. "It will be a lot of work."

Bahorel rolled his eyes in the most obnoxious way possible, eyelids fluttering. "I am the responsible one regardless, I am also the oldest, I must look after mon petites. There is nothing to rethink."

Enjolras stretched, content in his wrappings of human. Good. "You are both good. I am very glad to have you both in my life."

Grantaire hummed. "Good. Same." Another sip of wine. Curling closer to the warmth. "This is good," he repeated.

Bahorel closed his eyes, "It's good to be back."

Enjolras nodded against his humans. "I can't say I'm too fond of the wine, though. It tasted like pickled cherries."

Grantaire growled lightly at that. "Heathen," he mumbled before drinking more of the wine. "I guess it means there is going to be more of it for the rest of us then."

Bahorel laughed, "don't let him lie to you. That's precisely what it is, old picked cherry juice."

Enjolras made a face. "Pickled cherry juice that has been left to go sour."

Grantaire huffed as he downed the rest of his glass. "More for me then." A small, traitorous smile curled his lips up before he set his now empty glass back down. "With that, you have just revoked your right to any more wine in my company, mon croissant."

Bahorel laughed, "a pity! Alas! What a shame, oh no, how will I ever live with the horror?...I prefer rum mon petit. Enjolras will find what he prefers one day. Leave him to his water for now."

Enjolras was unabashed at the reaction of Grantaire, not particularly minding how he was no longer allowed wine in his company (actually more pleased at the thought than anything else). "I knew there was a reason I liked you." He smushed his face between the two.

Grantaire dramatically gasped at the reactions. He turned to his, sadly, empty wine glass and spoke, "Do not fret, mon amour. They just do not understand our love but yet, I will keep loving you. If no one but us understands our love, then so be it."

Bahorel groaned, long and loud, head tilted back against the arm rest, eyes closed, "you were meant for the stage, clearly, such drama is befitting only of the theatre. You forget mon petit, I delivered your love to your arms, do I get no thanks?" He turned to Enjolras and smiled, "leave him to his glass, we have eachother."

Enjolras raised his head, frowning as he looked between the two. "I thought we had already discussed this."

Grantaire stayed in his made up personality and sighed just as dramatically. "This is it? You are not even going to fight for me? Oh, how I feel betrayed. My heart can not take it." He stopped himself, turning back to face Bahorel. "It is my arms that you love? What about the rest of me?" Okay. Okay. He needed to stop. He couldn't take the confusion on Enjolras' face. "I am joking. Mainly." He clarified as he brushed his lips against the blonde's cheek.

Bahorel rolled his eyes once again, something he'd do quite often he was sure, and smiled at them, something he was equally sure would happen just as often if not more so, "the man kids only we're around to see it, watch us come home to him holding a bottle of wine to his chest fast asleep."

Enjolras put his head back down, tracing circles on the back of Grantaire's hand. "Hm...thank you. Bahorel, would you believe Grantaire will not allow me to punch bigots?"

Grantaire chuckled and rolled his eyes. "It would not be for the first time," he shrugged, remembering the times that he had awoken with a bottle of wine in his arms. Turning to Enjolras, he raised his eyebrow. "Are you still complaining about this?"

Bahorel turned to look at R, shocked, "why would you stop him? Bigots deserve all that come to them by the way of a man's fist. Surely, if Enjolras were angry enough to strike the person than they must have done some heinous deed. Let him bruise his knuckles on the face of another, it only hurts the two. Are you not an artist? The rendering of such a moment must be a glorious thing, such an opportunty should not be passed up." He turned to Enjolras then, a smile on his face, "There will be other chances mon petit, and there will be times when I am there in his stead, not only will I allow you to but I shall endeaver to help you as best I can."

Enjolras pressed a kiss to Grantaire's cheek before putting his face on Bahorel. "Thank you. Bigots deserve to be punched. It's important and somebody has to do it."

Grantaire rolled his eyes and turned to his empty glass. "The one time I try to be responsible, it comes and bites me back." A heavy sigh escaped him. "I'm too drunk for this discussion. I'm not going to bail either of you out of jail if you punch the wrong person."

Bahorel passed his quarter full glass to Grantaire. "It's good then, that I have money in the coffee table for just such an occasion, laws have certainly changed. Enjolras is correct. It's a noble calling to punch bigots."

Enjolras yawned again, and wrapped himself around the others. "I would gladly go to jail with both of you. Situation willing, of course."

Grantaire smiled fondly at Enjolras. "I'd also go to jail with you two given the right circumstances." With a sigh, he let himself sink into the warmth. "I'm not going to have that discussion. Not now." And this is why he like wine. Wine was uncomplicated. Wine was just there. Wine was warm. Warm like these two. And warm was good.

Bahorel settled against them, the warmth lulling him into a state of relaxation, "I would make the same such assurances but I'm almost certain it'd be my fault we're in jail."

Enjolras was mumbling now, against the two. "What discussion?"

Grantaire shook his head. "Don't you worry. You should sleep."

Bahorel grumbled "we all should, the hangover will come swift tomrrow."

#laviedure; 8 #laviedure #ofscarletopinions #ofscarletopinions; 3 #alcohol //

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